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Description
"I remember the day you were born."

The woman's words were soft, wistful; anchored with a heavier melancholy as she craned her neck from the pillow towards her daughter. The tiny snaps of her bones as she shifted kept Analeesi grounded in the fact that she was not dreaming. Each tiny pip! made her flinch, but she kept her eyes steady on her mother's gaunt face.

"They'd talked for years about reaching this place," her mother's dark pupils, wide against the reddened rest of her eyes, scanned the gray-toned room. There were sparse decorations; a steel table, the cold metal chair Analeesi was sitting in, a crystalline sink. She watched her mother's gaze fall, staring out the window. The sunlight was suddenly overcast by a lavender cloud. "Your father and I didn't think it would be possible."

The quick tapping of footsteps made Analeesi turn in her seat to stare back toward a man dressed head to toe in blue scrubs. His face was half-covered in a matching blue veil, brown eyes staring at her with a mixed look of exhaustion and sympathy.

"Ms. Phipps," his voice encouraged her to meet him at the doorway of their room.

"Hold on," Analeesi whispered to her mother as she stood up. No reply, just a blank stare out the window.

Reaching close proximity to the man, Analeesi gave him a small, grim smile. "Yes?" Her voice quiet.

"I apologize for the intrusion, but there's been an error in the sustainment detector," The man whispered nervously.

The girl's gaze shifted between him and her mother, "And?"

She could see his frown from beneath the veil, "You have about five minutes left, Ms. Phipps."

Analeesi blinked and her face slackened, trying to process what he'd said. The man's eyes lingered on her as he watched her eyes drop to the floor. "I am very sorry, Ms. Phipps," he offered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I will return shortly."

In a step, he was out the door; footsteps retreating quickly. Analeesi slowly shut the door and sat back beside her mother. Still focused on the window, her mother was so still, she looked as if time had frozen around her. The virus had eaten away at her muscles to such an extent, that it seemed the sterile white bed was attempting to devour her. Her frail body was swaddled in ivory sheets; only brittle razor thin arms raised above the comforter and folded delicately in her lap. Anyone else would find it hard to recognize the woman in front of Analeesi; the bouncy chocolate hair flattened against her head, the beautiful fullness of her face sunken, the way her fingers were now sinewy. But Analeesi knew those eyes, almost black and determined; alluring and inviting.

"Mom," the word caused the woman to slowly tilt her head back towards her daughter. Analeesi gave her mother the warmest smile she could muster, "You were saying?" She forced each syllable.

For a moment, the woman's face seemed expressionless, forgetting where they were. Another second passed and her eyes lit up, "Ah, yes," she smiled serenely, "Do you remember when we arrived here?"

It was a question Analeesi's mother asked often, "No," she shook her head, "I was, what? Three?"

Her mother's smile faded a touch, her brow barely furrowing, "I know I ask you so much," she sighed, "I just can't imagine you not remembering that journey. It was so...surreal." Her smile returned on the last word, her eyes briefly losing focus. The handheld monitor on the steel table near the door made a small beep! and a red, glowing dot began to pulse on the screen.

Analeesi's voice grew desperate, "Mother," she locked eyes with the woman in bed, "look at me. I want you to know that I love you."

There was a pause, and her mother's brows furrowed more, but her face broke into a gentle smile, "Of course I know," her velvety voice sounded almost appalled, "I love you as well." A beat, "We both do."

The monitor began to beep again, this time rapidly, the red dot pulsing faster. Analeesi wanted to reach out and grab her mother's hands; more than anything she'd ever felt, she wanted to connect with her, to feel her skin just one more time. The clouds shifted and sunlight poured through the room once more; the nearly invisible glaze of the containment field surrounding her mother's body glistened.

"Ana," those dark eyes, they focused on her daughter's now, "You're going to be fine." Eyes steady, her skeletal chest swelling underneath the white linens, "Don't--" but her voice dropped, breathing stopped, and her eyes slowly lost focus and drifted ever so slightly downward. The beeping of the monitor silenced and the red dot was reduced to a brilliant glow on the monitor.

Analeesi, who had been holding her breath the last minute, let out a long exhale, her head slumping into her hands. She'd felt them slightly dampen as she wiped her eyes and face. She could have sworn she'd sat there for hours, but when she rose from her seat and walked toward the monitor, it read in bold, black letters 10:06 DAY. It'd only been six minutes since her mother had died.

The nurse had returned to the doorway, his eyes skipping quickly from her mother's bed back to Analeesi. "May I enter?"

His tone was courteous, but as she nodded and he stepped into the room, it quickly shifted, "Your mother's servitude contract indicates that cremation was the preference of burial. As the executor and surviving relative, you have the option of purchasing her urn or a transferable headstone to your estate." His voice was rehearsed and weary; a voice that had repeated these words a hundred times over.

She'd known these words were coming, but her eyes still shamefully fell from his face to the steel table below, her voice softly responding, "I am not able to purchase either of those."

The man nodded, unfazed, "If that is the case, you will still be provided with a detailed summary of your mother's burial records and the location of crematory deposit in your identification folder." The man picked the monitor up from the table and slid his gloved hand across the screen. "I will notify the front desk of your arrival shortly, and from there you will be able to pick up your employment update information." His eyes rose from the screen to meet hers, "I am deeply sorry for your loss. If you would be so kind, there will be a survey about your care-given experience provided to your account. Please feel free to fill it out within the next thirty full-days. My name is Hagan Atwater."

Unable to lift her gaze, she could only nod her head curtly as she heard him leave the room.

She felt a tugging in her stomach, an anxious nerve twitching across the back of her neck. As much as she wanted, her mind was screaming for her to not look back at her mother as she left the hospital ward. Look back, a tiny voice warned, and you won't see your mother there. She trusted her instinct; the rich, melting gaze was all the virus had spared. Without that, she was unrecognizable.

The hospital was both an immensely tall and wide structure; from the outside it looked like several skyscrapers laid upon their sides and stacked on top each other. The corridor was extremely narrow, lined with rooms on either side. Out of privacy, the doors had no windows, so you could not see inside. Only the nurses, clad in all blue and veiled, knew from communication chips in their ears who was in what room and when they were required to enter. Oddly enough, the halls were usually empty. On both ends of the floor was a blocked off room for the nurses and staff to stay inside and also relay information back and forth to one another, along with a large elevator with room enough to carry a dozen people and two or three stretchers easily. Analeesi appeared tiny amidst the vast elevator as she entered the shaft and reached toward a plastic button engraved with a blue "L."

The loss of a loved one or family member on Terras had become a readily streamlined process. "L" led to the Lobby of the hospital, where a long slate-colored marble counter stretched from nearly one side of the floor to the other. Behind the counter sat several employment and financial coordinators, mostly women in their mid-forties with their hair wrapped up in large updos, wearing plain sky blue or gray scrubs.

There were several people already leaned up against the marble countertop, talking with a coordinator. Analeesi squeezed into a spot between a bearded man, his head wrapped in dark green cloth, and a mid-thirties woman with sagging earlobes and coarse, curly black hair.

"Salutations," The coordinator in front of Analeesi bore a tight, professional grin, her thick brown hair in an obnoxiously large bun perched on top of her head. "Name, please."

"Analeesi Phipps," she replied, her hands resting on the counter's cool surface. "Date of Birth: October 26th, 2040."

The coordinator's smile faded slightly, but still held its form, "Ah, so we've been through this process before." From below the counter, Analeesi could see the woman tapping on a screen that was built into the side of the counter. "Name of parents and status records?"

"Father, Almar Phipps," the girl recited, "deceased June 14th, 2055. Mother, Capreesi Sandras-Phipps," she took a quick breath, "deceased May 24th, 2060."

"Ah, I see," the woman's eyes traveled from the screen to Analeesi, "My condolences." Seeing no response from Analeesi, she tapped the screen again and swiveled her chair backwards. A tiny black box shot out a series of papers, which the woman caught in her hand and whirled back to lay on top of the counter. Analeesi moved her hands from the cold surface as the papers were slapped in front of her.

"This first paper is a copy of the burial and crematory deposit records that are available in your identification folder," the coordinator tapped the paper and then shuffled it behind the next, "The second is a copy of the employment promotion form you filled out when your mother was first admitted. The red stamp at the top indicates that your application was approved by the board of the Terras Country Club #468." Sure enough, a red stamp the shape of an elaborate rose bloom was etched across the upper right corner of the white sheet, "The third paper is a handout of your new work schedule and salary information. Typical grief management guidelines allow you 24 hours of mourning before returning to your state of employment. Finally, the last paper is any additional financial charges addressed due to your employment changes and account updates." The woman's large blue eyes peered from the papers to Analeesi's face. "If you have any questions, please contact the service address at the bottom of the last paper."

Numb from the overload of information, Analeesi barely remembered she was supposed to respond. "Thank you," She mumbled, taking the papers in her hands and placing them into a small yellow folder handed to her by the coordinator.

"You are most welcome. Condolences to you and your family. Please feel free to fill out a survey available in your account within the next thirty full-days concerning my performance with you this morning. My name is Helena Montague."

Analeesi took a step back with her papers pressed close to her chest, and immediately another individual took her place at the counter.

She turned toward the main lobby exit; the lavender clouds had opened up outside and the front of the hospital, decorated with floor-to-ceiling length wide windows, was flooded with sunlight. The light bounced off of the metal beams arching around the hospital doors; the white light flashed into Analeesi's eyes. Stumbling forward, blinded, she heard the sound of a door opening toward her and raised a hand to grab the door before it hit her in the face.

Despite the door never touching her hand, there was a quick thud and a man's voice exclaimed, "Ah--Ow!" Analeesi blinked and her eyesight adjusted to see a man standing on the other side of the door, grasping his nose with his free hand. The other was filled with yellow folders.

She immediately grabbed the door's large square handle and opened it wide, letting the man stumble in past her, "I am so sorry!" She apologized.

The man lowered his hand and straightened his posture. He appeared in his late thirties; broad shouldered with tanned skin and a square-cut jaw. His black hair was cut short, but wavy; thin strips of gray close to his temples. He was dressed not in blue scrubs, but a black shirt and pants.

He gave her a confused look for a moment, contemplating what to say. Then, seeming suddenly self-aware, his face broke into a smile that claimed most of his face, "No, no! It was my fault! I wasn't watching in front of me," His dark eyes scanned her face as he spoke, "No worries."

"Okay, good," Analeesi replied, giving him a ghost of a smile in return, her body turning as she spoke. Another tug at her stomach and she awkwardly added, "Have a good day."

The man appeared taken aback by her words. He tilted his head slightly, as if making sure he heard correctly, but after a moment's pause, he stammered, "You too," as the doors closed to separate them again.

The sunlight was not nearly as blinding, but relentlessly etched across every inch of free skin the moment she stepped outside. What was that? And who says 'Have a good day' leaving a hospital where their parent just died? the voice in her head questioned. Without a decent answer to give, Analeesi tucked the folder under her arm and took off down the sidewalk toward Country Club #468.

Description
"I remember the day you were born."

The woman's words were soft, wistful; anchored with a heavier melancholy as she craned her neck from the pillow towards her daughter. The tiny snaps of her bones as she shifted kept Analeesi grounded in the fact that she was not dreaming. Each tiny pip! made her flinch, but she kept her eyes steady on her mother's gaunt face.

"They'd talked for years about reaching this place," her mother's dark pupils, wide against the reddened rest of her eyes, scanned the gray-toned room. There were sparse decorations; a steel table, the cold metal chair Analeesi was sitting in, a crystalline sink. She watched her mother's gaze fall, staring out the window. The sunlight was suddenly overcast by a lavender cloud. "Your father and I didn't think it would be possible."

The quick tapping of footsteps made Analeesi turn in her seat to stare back toward a man dressed head to toe in blue scrubs. His face was half-covered in a matching blue veil, brown eyes staring at her with a mixed look of exhaustion and sympathy.

"Ms. Phipps," his voice encouraged her to meet him at the doorway of their room.

"Hold on," Analeesi whispered to her mother as she stood up. No reply, just a blank stare out the window.

Reaching close proximity to the man, Analeesi gave him a small, grim smile. "Yes?" Her voice quiet.

"I apologize for the intrusion, but there's been an error in the sustainment detector," The man whispered nervously.

The girl's gaze shifted between him and her mother, "And?"

She could see his frown from beneath the veil, "You have about five minutes left, Ms. Phipps."

Analeesi blinked and her face slackened, trying to process what he'd said. The man's eyes lingered on her as he watched her eyes drop to the floor. "I am very sorry, Ms. Phipps," he offered, his voice barely more than a breath. "I will return shortly."

In a step, he was out the door; footsteps retreating quickly. Analeesi slowly shut the door and sat back beside her mother. Still focused on the window, her mother was so still, she looked as if time had frozen around her. The virus had eaten away at her muscles to such an extent, that it seemed the sterile white bed was attempting to devour her. Her frail body was swaddled in ivory sheets; only brittle razor thin arms raised above the comforter and folded delicately in her lap. Anyone else would find it hard to recognize the woman in front of Analeesi; the bouncy chocolate hair flattened against her head, the beautiful fullness of her face sunken, the way her fingers were now sinewy. But Analeesi knew those eyes, almost black and determined; alluring and inviting.

"Mom," the word caused the woman to slowly tilt her head back towards her daughter. Analeesi gave her mother the warmest smile she could muster, "You were saying?" She forced each syllable.

For a moment, the woman's face seemed expressionless, forgetting where they were. Another second passed and her eyes lit up, "Ah, yes," she smiled serenely, "Do you remember when we arrived here?"

It was a question Analeesi's mother asked often, "No," she shook her head, "I was, what? Three?"

Her mother's smile faded a touch, her brow barely furrowing, "I know I ask you so much," she sighed, "I just can't imagine you not remembering that journey. It was so...surreal." Her smile returned on the last word, her eyes briefly losing focus. The handheld monitor on the steel table near the door made a small beep! and a red, glowing dot began to pulse on the screen.

Analeesi's voice grew desperate, "Mother," she locked eyes with the woman in bed, "look at me. I want you to know that I love you."

There was a pause, and her mother's brows furrowed more, but her face broke into a gentle smile, "Of course I know," her velvety voice sounded almost appalled, "I love you as well." A beat, "We both do."

The monitor began to beep again, this time rapidly, the red dot pulsing faster. Analeesi wanted to reach out and grab her mother's hands; more than anything she'd ever felt, she wanted to connect with her, to feel her skin just one more time. The clouds shifted and sunlight poured through the room once more; the nearly invisible glaze of the containment field surrounding her mother's body glistened.

"Ana," those dark eyes, they focused on her daughter's now, "You're going to be fine." Eyes steady, her skeletal chest swelling underneath the white linens, "Don't--" but her voice dropped, breathing stopped, and her eyes slowly lost focus and drifted ever so slightly downward. The beeping of the monitor silenced and the red dot was reduced to a brilliant glow on the monitor.

Analeesi, who had been holding her breath the last minute, let out a long exhale, her head slumping into her hands. She'd felt them slightly dampen as she wiped her eyes and face. She could have sworn she'd sat there for hours, but when she rose from her seat and walked toward the monitor, it read in bold, black letters 10:06 DAY. It'd only been six minutes since her mother had died.

The nurse had returned to the doorway, his eyes skipping quickly from her mother's bed back to Analeesi. "May I enter?"

His tone was courteous, but as she nodded and he stepped into the room, it quickly shifted, "Your mother's servitude contract indicates that cremation was the preference of burial. As the executor and surviving relative, you have the option of purchasing her urn or a transferable headstone to your estate." His voice was rehearsed and weary; a voice that had repeated these words a hundred times over.

She'd known these words were coming, but her eyes still shamefully fell from his face to the steel table below, her voice softly responding, "I am not able to purchase either of those."

The man nodded, unfazed, "If that is the case, you will still be provided with a detailed summary of your mother's burial records and the location of crematory deposit in your identification folder." The man picked the monitor up from the table and slid his gloved hand across the screen. "I will notify the front desk of your arrival shortly, and from there you will be able to pick up your employment update information." His eyes rose from the screen to meet hers, "I am deeply sorry for your loss. If you would be so kind, there will be a survey about your care-given experience provided to your account. Please feel free to fill it out within the next thirty full-days. My name is Hagan Atwater."

Unable to lift her gaze, she could only nod her head curtly as she heard him leave the room.

She felt a tugging in her stomach, an anxious nerve twitching across the back of her neck. As much as she wanted, her mind was screaming for her to not look back at her mother as she left the hospital ward. Look back, a tiny voice warned, and you won't see your mother there. She trusted her instinct; the rich, melting gaze was all the virus had spared. Without that, she was unrecognizable.

The hospital was both an immensely tall and wide structure; from the outside it looked like several skyscrapers laid upon their sides and stacked on top each other. The corridor was extremely narrow, lined with rooms on either side. Out of privacy, the doors had no windows, so you could not see inside. Only the nurses, clad in all blue and veiled, knew from communication chips in their ears who was in what room and when they were required to enter. Oddly enough, the halls were usually empty. On both ends of the floor was a blocked off room for the nurses and staff to stay inside and also relay information back and forth to one another, along with a large elevator with room enough to carry a dozen people and two or three stretchers easily. Analeesi appeared tiny amidst the vast elevator as she entered the shaft and reached toward a plastic button engraved with a blue "L."

The loss of a loved one or family member on Terras had become a readily streamlined process. "L" led to the Lobby of the hospital, where a long slate-colored marble counter stretched from nearly one side of the floor to the other. Behind the counter sat several employment and financial coordinators, mostly women in their mid-forties with their hair wrapped up in large updos, wearing plain sky blue or gray scrubs.

There were several people already leaned up against the marble countertop, talking with a coordinator. Analeesi squeezed into a spot between a bearded man, his head wrapped in dark green cloth, and a mid-thirties woman with sagging earlobes and coarse, curly black hair.

"Salutations," The coordinator in front of Analeesi bore a tight, professional grin, her thick brown hair in an obnoxiously large bun perched on top of her head. "Name, please."

"Analeesi Phipps," she replied, her hands resting on the counter's cool surface. "Date of Birth: October 26th, 2040."

The coordinator's smile faded slightly, but still held its form, "Ah, so we've been through this process before." From below the counter, Analeesi could see the woman tapping on a screen that was built into the side of the counter. "Name of parents and status records?"

"Father, Almar Phipps," the girl recited, "deceased June 14th, 2055. Mother, Capreesi Sandras-Phipps," she took a quick breath, "deceased May 24th, 2060."

"Ah, I see," the woman's eyes traveled from the screen to Analeesi, "My condolences." Seeing no response from Analeesi, she tapped the screen again and swiveled her chair backwards. A tiny black box shot out a series of papers, which the woman caught in her hand and whirled back to lay on top of the counter. Analeesi moved her hands from the cold surface as the papers were slapped in front of her.

"This first paper is a copy of the burial and crematory deposit records that are available in your identification folder," the coordinator tapped the paper and then shuffled it behind the next, "The second is a copy of the employment promotion form you filled out when your mother was first admitted. The red stamp at the top indicates that your application was approved by the board of the Terras Country Club #468." Sure enough, a red stamp the shape of an elaborate rose bloom was etched across the upper right corner of the white sheet, "The third paper is a handout of your new work schedule and salary information. Typical grief management guidelines allow you 24 hours of mourning before returning to your state of employment. Finally, the last paper is any additional financial charges addressed due to your employment changes and account updates." The woman's large blue eyes peered from the papers to Analeesi's face. "If you have any questions, please contact the service address at the bottom of the last paper."

Numb from the overload of information, Analeesi barely remembered she was supposed to respond. "Thank you," She mumbled, taking the papers in her hands and placing them into a small yellow folder handed to her by the coordinator.

"You are most welcome. Condolences to you and your family. Please feel free to fill out a survey available in your account within the next thirty full-days concerning my performance with you this morning. My name is Helena Montague."

Analeesi took a step back with her papers pressed close to her chest, and immediately another individual took her place at the counter.

She turned toward the main lobby exit; the lavender clouds had opened up outside and the front of the hospital, decorated with floor-to-ceiling length wide windows, was flooded with sunlight. The light bounced off of the metal beams arching around the hospital doors; the white light flashed into Analeesi's eyes. Stumbling forward, blinded, she heard the sound of a door opening toward her and raised a hand to grab the door before it hit her in the face.

Despite the door never touching her hand, there was a quick thud and a man's voice exclaimed, "Ah--Ow!" Analeesi blinked and her eyesight adjusted to see a man standing on the other side of the door, grasping his nose with his free hand. The other was filled with yellow folders.

She immediately grabbed the door's large square handle and opened it wide, letting the man stumble in past her, "I am so sorry!" She apologized.

The man lowered his hand and straightened his posture. He appeared in his late thirties; broad shouldered with tanned skin and a square-cut jaw. His black hair was cut short, but wavy; thin strips of gray close to his temples. He was dressed not in blue scrubs, but a black shirt and pants.

He gave her a confused look for a moment, contemplating what to say. Then, seeming suddenly self-aware, his face broke into a smile that claimed most of his face, "No, no! It was my fault! I wasn't watching in front of me," His dark eyes scanned her face as he spoke, "No worries."

"Okay, good," Analeesi replied, giving him a ghost of a smile in return, her body turning as she spoke. Another tug at her stomach and she awkwardly added, "Have a good day."

The man appeared taken aback by her words. He tilted his head slightly, as if making sure he heard correctly, but after a moment's pause, he stammered, "You too," as the doors closed to separate them again.

The sunlight was not nearly as blinding, but relentlessly etched across every inch of free skin the moment she stepped outside. What was that? And who says 'Have a good day' leaving a hospital where their parent just died? the voice in her head questioned. Without a decent answer to give, Analeesi tucked the folder under her arm and took off down the sidewalk toward Country Club #468.