Ungloved

By Kevina Clear

My cubicle door opens.

I hope it’s Nira, my favorite Facilitator. Instead two authorities burst in.

White suits. Masks. Blue gloves.

“What’s happening?” I ask.

“You’re being removed,” the authority on my left growls. They grab my arms, squeezing until it hurts, and haul me out.

“What? No!” I scream. “Nira!”

“Trilby!”

It’s Nira. She’s coming for me.

“Trilby!” she yells.

I turn and see her coming around the corner.

“Nira!” I pull a hand  free and reach for her. “Don’t let them take me!”

“I won’t.” She grabs my hand.

The authorities jerk me away, leaving her holding an empty glove.

I wake up, heart pounding.

Nira

I pull off my left glove. Cold air hits my clammy hand.

If I could just go for one day without gloves.

Sighing, I yank a fresh glove out of the box and slide my fingers inside, snapping the wrist. I tug off the right. Even an hour would be nice.

My medical alert device buzzes. I tap my wrist to activate its holographic map. One of the cubicles is glowing yellow. Not an emergency, but it should be checked on soon. I tap the

map for info.

A big number 14 pops up.

Trilby.

I race to cubicle 14.

The authorities instruct us not to become emotionally attached to our charges, but I can’t help it with her. Maybe it’s all the hours I’ve spent studying her heart abnormalities, or maybe it’s her bright, inquisitive nature, or maybe it’s just the fact that she’s… mine.

She’s my daughter.

In a way, I’m lucky. Most females in Eschaterre don’t even know where their eggs end up, but I was assigned to raise mine.

It’ll be so hard to let her go when she turns thirteen.

I reach the cubicle and gasp as I pull open its heavy steel door. The handle feels cold and hard on my bare skin.

Trilby

Calm down, I tell myself. It was just a dream. You’re not being removed.

But I can’t calm down.

My heart feels like it’s beating out of my chest. I breathe in short, shallow bursts. My bed trembles. I realize it’s me.

The door opens.

I stare, half expecting authorities coming to take me away.

But Nira steps inside. Her eyes widen above her white mask as she looks me over. She runs her wrist device over my medichip.

Her hand—it’s so pale.

She’s not wearing a glove.

My breaths come faster and faster. I can’t control the shaking.

“Did you have a frightening dream?” she asks.

I nod, unable to speak.

If the authorities see her now, she’ll be removed. Everyone in Eschaterre is required to wear gloves at all times. We can’t give the virus a second chance at wiping out the human race.

Except, Nira is.

Why?

She scans me again. The lines in her face grow deeper.

My heart rate must be in the danger zone.

I close my eyes and try to take deeper breaths. It doesn’t work.

I feel Nira’s fingertips, soft and light, run across my forehead and hair. My eyes open and meet hers. We are both frozen.

Slowly, without taking her gaze from mine, she pulls her hand away, caressing my cheek. She passes her wrist over my medichip once more.

“Your numbers are better,” she says.

I can feel it. I hadn’t noticed, but my heart rate has slowed. I can breathe steadily now.

She stands and turns.

I want to say something, anything.

Nira walks out the door.

Nira

Safely in my cubicle, I lean against the door and slide to the floor.

What just happened?

I touched her.

I touched another human being.

The authorities can’t know. They would remove me.

Why did I do it?

Why?

It felt right. When I touched her, I felt… What?

How to describe such glorious—

Joy.

I felt joy.

Trilby

I have the nightmare again. Only this time, Nira is the one being taken away, and I can’t do anything to stop it.

I wake up, but there’s no relief. This time, the dream could be real. It could come true.

Tha-thump, tha-thump. My heart is like a runaway treadmill. I can’t keep up with it.

Nira

My medical alert device buzzes.

I know—even before I check—it’s Trilby.

I open the map. Cubicle 14 glows red.

No.

I run to her cubicle and throw open the door. She’s sitting on her bed, hyperventilating.

“They’ll… take… you… away,” she gasps.

Is that what she’s afraid of?

“No one’s taking me away,” I say firmly.

But they could. And they would.

“What… if… they—”

This isn’t good. I need to calm her.

I could sedate her, or maybe… No. But it did work before.

“Nira,” she wheezes.

I pull off my gloves. “Shh, it’s okay.” I push her hair away from her face. The contact sends a tingle up my arm. “I’m not going anywhere.”

I comb her hair with my hand. The strands run between my fingers, fine and soft. Her breathing slows. I sigh with relief.

Trilby looks up at me. Slowly and deliberately, she removes her gloves. She holds out her hand.

I take it in mine.

Joy. I feel it again.

In this moment, I know this is how we were made to be.

Trilby and I stand, hand in hand, gloveless.

We step forward, and I open the door.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kevina  Clear is drawn to books like a magnet to a refrigerator. She’s started writing several novels, finished a handful of short stories, and written some poetry (her favorite form is the limerick). A self-proclaimed nerd, she loves reading historical fiction, classics, and fantasy, and watching The Lord of The Rings and Doctor Who. She lives in Michigan on a mini-farm, where she enjoys working in the garden, sometimes while writing.

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