The Immortal King Rao by Vauhini Vara

Author:Vauhini Vara [Vara, Vauhini]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fourth Estate India
Published: 2022-05-03T00:00:00+00:00

17

Magic was right. One night, I returned to Edison to find a note from Elemen taped to the door. It wasn’t addressed to anyone in particular, yet I was sure she had intended it for me alone. “Orientation in the atrium for new Exes, 8 p.m. tonight,” it said. She had signed the letter “E” underneath, in a loopy, almost childish, cursive.

I found Elemen sitting crossed-legged on the floor; a couple dozen people had arranged themselves on the ground facing her. I moved to the front and sat a few feet from her. “Thanks for the note,” I said, trying to act casual, and she smiled—a relief.

Then she addressed all of us. “Hi,” she said. “Good to see you all.” She told us to look around and get to know one another’s faces. We had all arrived around the same time, within the past month or so. The reason she had gathered us here was to tell us a bit about life in the Blanklands, and on Bainbridge, in particular.

Those who had lived here for many years had a long-standing tradition of holding these orientations. It had taken time to figure out what people needed to hear, she said, but after a while they had realized that the most important part had nothing to do with the Blanklands at all. It had to do with the place they had all left to get here. So that’s what we were going to talk about first.

She exuded calm confidence. Strange that the loud, passionate girl who had stood bellowing on that Honda Civic on that decades-ago night of the Coconut riots was the same human being as this assured woman, regal in her affect. Under Shareholder Government, she said, the world’s citizens were, on average, richer, healthier, and better educated than ever. The creation of this system of government had given everyone the same shot at life, determined only by their God-given grit and sweat. “Right?” Elemen said, her tone ironic. She paused, as if waiting for an answer. When no one spoke, her tone darkened: “But, wait. If it was all so great, why in the world did you leave?”

We were silent. “I see your expressions,” she said. “You’re thinking, She thinks I left out of conviction. She thinks I left to help make the world a better place. She doesn’t realize this about me, but I left because I couldn’t make it. My Social Capital was in the toilet.”

A couple of people tittered in nervous acknowledgment, but most avoided eye contact. When she turned her intense gaze on me, I willed myself to meet it, and she did the tiniest of double-takes, as if startled, before continuing. “Listen, there’s shame in it. I know that. It’s been the prevailing narrative about Exes almost since the beginning: We were forced to leave because we failed at being Shareholders. Given the same opportunities as everyone else, we couldn’t make it. We’re pitiful. But one night, you’re in bed, and the thought of Exing enters your mind.

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