In the Zone: Pitin’s Problem

by Blatant Appeal

Chapter  1 

How could such simple rules be misunderstood?

Frustration surged through him, driving Pitin to stride faster through the trees and brush to release some of his pent up emotions.  Leaves swirled, branches whipped as he passed.  Oblivious to his surroundings, he worked to control the violence surging up from deep within him.  But a wave of burning anger boiled through him, forcing him to act.  He picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could.

Pain seared white-hot through his shoulder—paralyzing his lungs.

 “Sysssss,” sucking air in between clenched jaws, he stood motionless, breathing shallow, waiting for the sharp ripples of pain to dull.  Had he dislocated his shoulder?

No, not quite, he decided, after the waves of fire receded just enough to try a tentative shoulder movement.  He stood still against the pain, staring fixedly at the scuff mark on the tree trunk where the rock had hit.  His fists clenched.  His angry thoughts circled back like angry crows to pick at the source of his present predicament.

A small whisper of sound came from the underbrush behind him.

She had followed him!

Before thought, he lost control.

In unrestrained fury he shouted one of the longest, loudest, most reverberating string of words containing all of the wild frustration he held.  Blinding rage surged through his body in hot fiery streaks almost putting him beyond thought.  Sparkles danced before his eyes as he ran out of breath.  A spike of pain hit his temples, almost obliterating the tiny thread of reason that still existed, holding him motionless.  He knew leaders weren’t supposed to harm the ones they led.  But maybe, one exception?

Breathing hard, he focused furiously on the puny scuff mark he’d made on the tree—determined to contain himself completely before he turned around.  He knew she was behind him…keeping him in sight.  How did a reasonable man such as himself get into a situation like this?  As his thoughts spiked back to the past, he felt a heated ache blooming up the back of his neck and head to match the pounding in his temples.  

He roared again…

Chapter  2

As Pitin walked by a mirror, a flicker in it caught his attention, drawing him to turn and look at his image, stare into his own empty eyes.  His face hadn’t changed since the last time he had searched it.  Something was still missing.  He couldn’t find it.  Hell, he couldn’t even figure out what it is.

Stepping closer, he searched his image anew.  At thirty-two, his years were starting to carve themselves into his face.  What did others see?  Could others perceive that something in him was lacking?  He’d watched other people while they went about their daily lives.  They seemed happy, sad, whatever…but at least they were alive...

Reaching out, he pressed his fingertip to the smooth cool surface of the mirror.  His image finger didn’t quite touch his own.  That was what he had become, an image, not a person.  Not touching life—separate from it.

Taking his finger away, he saw he’d left a perfect print behind.  He swiped the tell-tale print with his fist.  A smudge.  That was no better.  Was it in his future to become not even a print, but a smudge?  Depressing.  It was merely another of the answerless questions which had begun plaguing him lately.

He turned and walked out not caring that the door slammed behind him.  He would go do something that made him feel real.  Heavy exercise.  At least tonight, when he tried to sleep, if his muscles ached enough, he would feel as if he was present mind and body…for a while.

 Pitin’s father winced at the familiar sound of the side door slamming in the distance.  Probably Pitin.  He reminded himself that as present leader and father of the next leader of the Kingman family, it was part of his job to see to the level of contentedness and security of the family.  That included the heir to his job—his first born son.  Even if that son was a mature man of thirty-two.  He had to do something about Pitin.

Laying down his writer, he rubbed his face, trying to ease tense muscles.  Looking across the room, he gazed into a heavy old mirror.  The mirror was a part of one of his earliest memories of his grandfather’s office.  When it had become his father’s mirror, his father had explained why he kept the mirror facing his desk.  “Because a man can judge how proud he is of his actions and motives by how well he faces his own image every day.”  He had been facing his grandfather’s mirror himself for years.  Looking at it, sometimes he felt the weight of the generations that had gone before him and his responsibility to those still to come.  Soon he would be passing it on to another leader in the line of generations.

Whimsically, a thought floated through his head; the mirror wasn’t usually too bad as a companion either since it never said a word.  Making a face at himself in the mirror, he decided that today wasn’t a very good day.  He had been delaying a major decision, hoping that circumstances would unfold which would make the choice easy.  Jubilee would have told him he was old enough to know better.  Wives were like that.

He sighed.  It was time.

He reached for the communicator, tapped in and checked Pitin’s schedule, placing an early priority appointment on his son’s private communicator informing him that he wanted to see him first thing in the morning.

There.  It was done.

Walking out of his private room to find Jubilee, he speculated on which direction the largest waves of consequences would go from the tiny rock of fate he had just flung.

Pitin felt the vibration of a priority message in the door handle of his room as soon as his palm touched it.  What now?  Everything had been fine when he left his office earlier.  He had worked himself to near exhaustion since then.  This was not the time to be making decisions.  He savagely punched the ‘play message’ button on his communicator.

Odd.  His father hadn’t set a priority meeting with him in…several months.  Not since that…well it didn’t matter.  He couldn’t think of anything that could have gone sour in the few hours he’d been away today.  Whatever the meeting was about wasn’t an emergency or a few details would have been in the message.  Fine.  He could ignore it until morning and get some sleep.

It was still dark outside when Pitin’s father knocked crisply once, entering his son’s work domain. 

Pitin put down the sales figures he was looking over.  His father had on his stone-face expression.  Not a good sign.  Damn!  Now what?

Looking at his oldest son, the present leader of the Kingman family decided that perhaps it would be better to stay standing for this discussion.  This wasn’t a father/son talk.  It wasn’t a business discussion of equals.  This was an ultimatum.  But…maybe it would be better if it were delivered on neutral ground.

“Let’s go get something to drink.  This conversation might take a while.”

They walked in silence down the half-lit hallway.  The hush of the extra-early morning remained unbroken except by some distant sounds of activity.  The visitation room they entered was his favorite.  Comfortable tables and lounging chairs furnished the room which was used as a place to greet guests or customers.

He pushed refreshment type and number icons in the com-panel, communicating their needs to the kitchen.  An acknowledgement beep answered along with the time of expected delivery.  A quick stroke and the order was complete.  No more excuses for delay he thought, turning and pointing his son to a set of matching chairs.

Pitin felt his heart darken at the implied gravity of the situation.  His thoughts jumped from subject to subject as he tried and discarded most of the easy speculation on what subject his father had in mind to discuss.  This entire meeting, so far, was out of character and out of place.

His inner voice stilled, then asked the big question, had his time run out?

“Pitin, this conversation is between you, in your position as my oldest son and heir to the holdings of the Kingman family—including the homeplace, businesses, and keeper of their personal happiness, and me, as your father and leader of the same.” His tone formal, he started to ask the questions he must ask.

“Did it go that badly, love?” Jubilee reached up and tried to smooth the deepening frown marks from her husband’s face with her finger.  Though it had been years since she had been able to erase them completely away, he was still a handsome man.  His face echoed his character the way the amount of silver in his hair revealed his age.

His frown returned.  “Yes and no.”  Before she could interrupt, he covered her lips with gentle fingers.  Sorting his way forward through his memories and impressions of the meeting he’d had with his eldest son that morning, he took a few moments to put into words what he wanted to say.

“At first Pitin gave me that look he has whenever he doesn’t want to let anyone know what he’s thinking.”

“Ever since Tory came back from the Zone, we have all felt as though he is somewhere else in his thoughts.  Do you think she had anything to do with it?” Jubilee said, wearing a frown of her own.

“I doubt it, or rather, not directly.  When I asked him what his future plans were, he knew I meant the Zone.  He can’t take his place as head of the entire family without the experience it takes of having started a household of his own.”  With a quirk of his eyebrow, he teased to lighten the moment, “There is no substitution for that kind of experience.”

Everyone knew the history of the Proving Zone.  It was an area which had been set aside centuries ago when the burgeoning number and nature of people were determined to be a curse both to the planet and mankind.

Indiscriminate childbearing, coupled with the very human desire to save and nurture everyone, had taken its genetic toll.  No longer did only the strongest and fittest survive. When a weakening in the human gene pool had been scientifically confirmed, studies were implemented to find solutions to both problems.

The result was a social agreement all the world's peoples could understand and embrace.  It was decided that all who wished to procreate must pass a test.  The test would not be devised by humans, but by the planet.  One of the largest dead zones was given over for the location.  No electronic, magnetic, or other scientifically advanced instrument worked in a dead zone.

            After ratification of the pact by the World Congress on Over-Population, implants rendering citizens sterile were surgically placed in all persons at eight years of age.  Only a successful trek through the dead zone, now officially renamed the Proving Zone, could get the implant removed.

At first, there were a few who attempted implant removal without authorization.  Attemptees earned immediate death sentences.  The codes allowing safe removal were held under the strictest security.  Any healer caught using the codes in an unauthorized manner was sentenced to having their genitals permanently damaged.  Compliance was assured as common sense prevailed.

At one time explorers had combed the Zone.  None could find enough quantity of anything of value to make exploitation of the natural mineral, vegetative, or animal resources worth the risks.  Even the climate proved unstable.  The Zone ranged from tropical forests to desert valleys.  With both flood and fire as common hazards, only the foolhardy or the suicidal went there.  But that was before the World Congress Pact on Population Quantity and Quality.  Now couples regularly left the two terminals, separated from each other by three hundred miles, one for females, another for males, to start the one-thousand-mile trek to Randar. 

            The rendezvous point, Randar, was a small but fearless town catering to the necessities of the Zone.  Survivors, upon arrival, must have their identities confirmed.  Medical aid would be administered and family notified if requested.  All the necessary amenities for documenting and rendering safe medical removal of the implants were available.

Survivors chose their own schedule and left when ready to rejoin civilization and start their families.  Anyone could be married or help raise children, but only those who had proven themselves by surviving the Zone could create children.

            Families soon realized that the surest way to continue their line was unrelenting attention to health.  Mental and physical fitness training were stressed, along with an obvious need to scrutinize other families for positive genetic material in possible mates.

Eventually, the trend toward small families split by miles and separate interests began to reverse.  They evolved into large families, with extended family living and working together in small, almost feudal, holdings.  The pact worked well, keeping the human population healthy and at a manageable number to guarantee survival of the species.

Jubilee poked her husband’s ribs to encourage him to get back to the subject at hand.

“When he told me he didn’t have a candidate in mind, he was staring out of the window…almost as if he were somewhere else.”

“Is there something else he wants to do with his life?  Something he has kept from us,” she asked, trying to read the expression on her husband’s concerned face.

“No.  I asked.  He said, ‘No.’”

The silence lengthened.  Their own trek through the Zone had been almost thirty-five years earlier….

Being the parents of seven children, life never seemed to stand still.  Having lately married off the youngest, Tory, it was apparent to everyone time wasn’t going to wait forever.  Something had to be done about seeing to the secure leadership of future generations, and soon.

            The eldest Kingman son had the first right of refusal on heading the family.  All children were raised alike until their interests became known.  Then, as they either chose the Zone or didn’t, they became established in their own lives—whether at the family homeplace or elsewhere.  The ruling head of the family financially assisted every male child who chose the Zone for the first ten years while they established their family.  The business of continuing the next generation was of the utmost importance.  Female children were assisted by either their chosen career or their new family, unless other arrangements were made.  Over the centuries alternate arrangements had seldom been needed, Jubilee thought smugly.

She would have to put some thought into Pitin’s situation before irretrievable steps were taken by either her husband or her son.  Men were often impossible to turn from a determined course of action once they made a decision.  She had learned over the years to get input into the process before the ultimate decision deadline if she wanted to affect the outcome.  The hardest part was to determine when the deadline was.  Men were tricky that way.

Until a few years ago, Pitin had seemed the perfect one to assume the responsibilities of the extended family.  He had taken to the clan’s varied business interests like a bird to the air.  Or so it had seemed.  What had happened?  Worse, how had it happened that she, his mother, didn’t know anything about that life altering event?  That would change.

It didn’t.

Skillful questioning of everyone she could think of who was remotely acquainted with Pitin revealed exactly—aught, zero, zilch, plengo, nothing.  She even went as far back as his university records to see if at sometime he had been under the influence of some mystical group of spiritual misfits.

Nothing.

She reviewed his medical records from infancy forward, looking for some abnormality, anything to explain this…this whatever.  Maybe the worst of it was that she couldn’t name what seemed wrong.  But, that wouldn’t keep her from attempting to fix it.

Closing her notes and taking the last sip of her tepid drink, she stared into space while her mind reached a conclusion about her findings.  “So,” she thought aloud, “if Pitin’s problem isn’t medical or mental, it has to be situational.  That I can work with.”  She got up and left the room with a determined stride.  She would have a plan or her name wasn’t Jubilee Esatia Kingman.

~                      ~                      ~

No one knew Tica existed.  If she were ever discovered, she would cease to be.

~                      ~                      ~

            Pitin slammed to the floor.  Getting up, he stifled a groan deciding he’d better determine which was more important today, a good work-out or thorough work-over by his father.

Rolling quickly to his feet, he attacked his opponent before  his thoughts wandered again—why was it only during bouts like this that he really felt connected—like he belonged in his own skin?

Pitin picked himself up off of the floor again, cursing.

Blam!

            Jubilee watched her husband rush in and try to throw Pitin again.  This time her husband hit the mat.  Although they had been at this for over an hour, she had only been watching for half of that time.  She wondered if Pitin had accepted the requirements.  Not wanting to wait another minute to find out, she called a break.  She would talk to her husband while he showered.

            “Well?  What did he decide?”  Jubilee handed her husband a small towel to wipe his face.

            “He didn’t.”  Glancing at her as they walked down the corridor to their private quarters, he thought about his options—driving her crazy with curiosity by making her wait or have her shower with him and get his back scrubbed while he told her.  He opted for the shower.

            “What do you mean, ‘he didn’t’?  He had to choose one way or the other.”  Jubilee questioned, following him towards the bathing room.  She was almost distracted from her question when he turned and brought her shirt over her head.  “Hst…what…?” her muffled voice started before her head was released.  She knew from the smirk on his face what he required.

            “Now, tell me what you meant about Pitin,” she demanded, swirling the soap around over her husband’s back.

            This wasn’t going to be easy to explain, but he had delayed long enough.  “The choices I gave him were clear:  Go through the Zone with a candidate or step down as heir.”

            He heard and felt the frustration in her voice as she demanded, “Well, how did he not choose?  Make some sense.”  The spot on his back she was scrubbing began to get a little tender with the vigor of her strokes.  He turned to face her.

            “Pitin wanted to give me a few days to think over what—”

            “Think? Think what?”

            The water cascaded gently over them as he recounted the entire meeting for her, reliving it himself, as he described Pitin’s profound disclosure.

His son had stared sightlessly towards a picture on the wall, while he spoke.

“Father, I haven’t found anyone.  While at the university, I didn’t think that much about it.  I was naive enough to believe all of the stories.’’  Pitin’s tone had then become mockingly intense.  “That when the time is right for both parties, destiny will step in and take a hand.  That an all-consuming, heart slamming, can’t-live-without-this-one type of joining would occur.  It didn’t.  At first, during university, I spent no time looking, just enjoying.  You know what life is like there.  I was full of confidence that at any moment something would happen with no effort on my part.”

Pitin had begun to pace the room, intent on his words.  “Then later, I took a more active roll.  I put some serious thought into the kind of woman that I wanted.  I didn’t have an idea by that time of how she should look, but I knew what kind of person I had liked so far.”  He had smirked ruefully.  “I had liked them all.  Different things in different ones.”  Still pacing, he went on, “I spent time with as many different women as I could.  Real time.  Talking time.  Not bed time…all right, some bed time.” 

At that, Pitin had looked at him with one of his old mischievous looks.  It disheartened him to realize how long it had been since he had seen that look on his son’s face.

Then Pitin had stopped pacing and began staring again.  His voice had been infinitely sad when he continued.  “When Jessa came back from the Zone with the wrong man—or rather, she had entered with the wrong one, it was obvious that she came back with the right one.  I knew at that moment that fate hadn’t stepped in for me.  Later, after Sample, had taken her destiny into her hands…”  He saw his son squeeze his hands into fists.

Pitin had then looked him straight in the eyes and said, “There is no one for me.  I have looked.  I have quit searching.  I know myself well enough to know that someone from inside the Zone wouldn’t be for me.  There isn’t any place else left to look.  Our family has always prided itself on the quality of its relationships, even those who didn’t choose the Zone.  I don’t seem to be capable of deep feelings.” 

Pitin had looked away and then spoke again, “I want you to take a few days and decide if you still want to give me the choice.  I like running the businesses.  I can do it.  What I can’t do is find an acceptable candidate and at thirty-two I don’t think I’m going to.  If you think it necessary, I will go through the Zone—but alone.”

Telling Jubilee about the way that Pitin had explained it was almost as bad as being there the first time.  He had hoped that he had overlooked something positive.  He hadn’t.

            Wrapping her soapy sympathetic arms more tightly around her husband’s middle, Jubilee let her wet head plop against his chest.  This information made sense out of all that she had discovered so far.  She nodded in satisfaction when the answer popped full-blown into her head.  Family helped its own.

            Feeling the sudden alert stillness of his wife, he knew something was being planned.  Years of living with her had taught him a lot, though occasionally she could still surprise him.  She did with her next words.

            “We’ll find him one.”

            Quite sure he hadn’t heard properly, he asked her, “Find what?”

            “A candidate.”  Jubilee said matter-of-factly.

            “What?”  He wanted to shout but knew better.

            “We’ll find him one.”  She reiterated in a too reasonable voice ending with a determined nod of her head.

            He had learned long ago to be cautious when she used that tone.  Clearing his throat, he mildly asked, “What exactly do you have in mind?”

            She broke away to grab the rinsing unit.  She squirted it around vigorously, her idea expanding and gathering momentum as she spoke.  “We’ll…no, you, will take him on a round of visits.  These visits will strengthen old economic ties, be a chance to see if there are any new products or techniques that will be of benefit to the family, and,” she nodded, “look over eligible co-candidates without their  knowledge.”  She flashed him a persuasive glance and pointed the scrubber at him, the rinsing unit running forgotten in one hand.

“But, most importantly, you will be watching Pitin’s responses to the women of these families.  I’m afraid you won’t be able to visit only ones having unattached daughters,”  She bit her lip.  “That would be too obvious.  We will have to let Pitin know what the plan is.  Unlike our families,” her eyes gleaming in determination and mischief, she went on to explain, “other families rely on time-tested methods of getting mates.  Some buy them, others sell them.”

At his expression, she held up a finger to stop his words that she knew would carry an objection.  With an eyebrow arched, she said, “and others select them by using as much logic as possible, still others use proximity.”  Seeing the puzzlement in his eyes, she relented.  “Throwing two normal, healthy adults of the opposite sex together for months and letting nature take its course!”

Jubilee flicked a finger to him to turn around and completed squirting the rinse water.  “We are going to use the last two methods together.  We will select the families and use the logic.  Pitin will make the final selection.  Then, both of you will approach the young woman’s family and make the arrangements.”

She made a final turn, shut off the water, and stood still with hands on hips, grinning in triumph, and looking like the woman he had fallen in love with so many years ago.  He wouldn’t disappoint her—yet.  It really wouldn’t make his decision any harder if he spent some time giving her idea a chance.  Her plan might surprise him and actually work.

Though one of his more difficult responsibilities was to attempt to ensure happiness for each family member—if it were possible—he would keep to himself his reservations on whether his son was fit to lead.  Time would truly tell.  Standing tall, wrapping a towel around her, he told her he would try.  What was there to lose?

Pitin didn’t think the plan would work.  The whole idea irritated him.  However, his parents held it as a requirement, so he had no choice unless he wished to step down as heir now.  He consoled himself with the reminder that since expanding trade was always supposed to be a solid idea, then the time spent wouldn’t be a total loss.

In some of his blacker moods, he had pondered the point of expanded trade.  Why?  Goods were goods.  Money was money.  Clothes were clothes.  What was the point of going farther for different foods, monies, and clothes?  Activity, just for the sake of activity?  That was why people were created?

Chapter  3

~                      ~                      ~

Tica bounded down a small rocky ravine.  Her feet courting disaster from her haste, she skipped fleetly from rock to ledge to rock.  Heat waves bounced.  She was headed for a misty fern and vine-enfolded grotto.  Inside it she would have time, time to lounge and laugh.

~                      ~                      ~

This manuscript is finished.

Please let others know what you think of this story:  ergon@pld.com