“Not only are you freakishly white with weird hair,” Eldest adds, “you’re also abnormally young. ”
“I’m seventeen!”
“Yes,” the doctor says slowly, as if even my age disgusts him. “But, see, we regulate mating. ” He’s attempting to speak with a calm, kind voice, but he keeps looking nervously at Eldest.
“Mating?” I say, incredulous. They have rules about sex?
“We have to prevent incest. ”
“Oh, ew!”
Eldest ignores me. “And control is more easily maintained with set generations. The younger generation, which applies to most of the people in this Ward, are in their twenties and on the cusp of their Season. Doc’s generation—the older generation—are in their early forties. ”
My brain whirls. “You’re telling me that there are two generations on the ship, and everyone is either twenty or forty?”
The old man nods. “There’s some variation; some children are born a little late or early, some families have multiple children. We’re still recouping our population loss from when a great Plague hit several gens ago. ”
“A plague?”
“A devastating one,” the doctor jumps in. “It killed over three-quarters of the ship’s population, and we still haven’t recouped our losses. ”
I think back to my last year on Earth. Daddy took me to the observatory in Utah to celebrate the completion of Project Ark Ship. They had built the ship primarily in space, using a series of several hundred shuttle launches to take materials and people to the build site in orbit around Earth. It was the largest space project ever attempted by any nation.
But it just looked like a bright round blob in the telescope to me.
“About twenty-five years ago, the International Space Station took over a decade to complete and was around three-hundred-feet long. Now we have a ship that took less than four years to complete and is larger than the entire island of Iwo Jima,” Daddy had said, pride ringing in his voice.
I didn’t like associating a ship I would be on for three centuries with an island known for a bloody battle in a bloody war.
Now, staring up at these two men who have lived their whole lives on this ship, who have in their history a plague that nearly decimated it—now the comparison seems apt.
“But as we were saying,” the doctor continues, “most of the people on board are either in their early twenties or early forties. ”
I look up at the old man. “You’re not in your early forties,” I say. The statement comes out much more obnoxious than I’d meant it to. The old man’s eyes bore into me with a look of either speculation or revulsion—I’m not sure which.
“I am fifty-six. ” I hold back a snort; the old man looks way older than fifty-six. “I am the Eldest of the ship—the oldest person, and the one with the right to rule. Before each generation, an Elder is born to be tha
t generation’s leader. ”
“There’s no one on the ship older than fifty-six?” I ask.
“A few grays still exist, all sixty or so, but they won’t last much longer. ”
“Why not?”
“Old people die. It’s what they do. ”
This doesn’t seem right to me. I mean, yeah, sixty is way old. . . but it’s not like people reach a certain age and just die. Lots of people are older than sixty. My great-grandma was ninety-four before she died.
“What about that boy?”
“What boy?” Eldest asks.
“She’s talking about Elder. ”
Eldest grunts.
“Amy,” the doctor says, “Elder was born between the generations. He is sixteen years old. When the Season starts and the young generation begin to mate, the children born from that will be the generation that Elder rules after Eldest passes to the stars. The boy you met is the next Eldest. ”