EDEN

Two Years Before Implementation

April 2085

Elianila was awoken by the voice of her four-year-old daughter who had jumped onto her bed.

"Mama!"

"Yes, dear?" she said wearily, her eyes still closed.

"Mama, wake up."

She forced her eyes open, and turned onto her back. She was met by the grinning face of her daughter.

She smiled back, then glanced at the wristwatch she'd been too tired to remove the night before. It read: 6:15 a.m.

"Why is my daughter awake early in the morning on a Saturday?" she teased.

"Missed you, Mama," Zara said in a small voice, sitting on her stomach.

"Oh...my dear," she said, taking her daughter's hands in hers and squeezing them gently. "Really?"

She nodded.

Elianila pulled her gently to her side, and wrapped her arms around her. Zara smelled like baby shampoo and the lavender lotion her mother, Regina, used after bath time.

"I missed you," Zara said, burrowing into Elianila's chest. "You were gone for a hundred days."

"Not quite a hundred," Elianila said, smoothing down Zara's hair. "Maybe two days."

"That's still a lot." Zara pulled back to look at her mother. "Why do you go away so much?"

How do you explain saving the world to a four-year-old?

"Mama has important work. I'm helping build something that will keep people safe."

"Like a superhero?"

"Something like that."

"Can I see your cape?"

"Superheroes don't always wear capes. Sometimes they just work really hard."

"Play with me?" Zara asked.

She glanced at the clock. 6:22 a.m. She needed to be at The Nexus by eight for Ashford's meeting. That left ninety-eight minutes to shower, get dressed, maybe eat something, and make the forty-five minute drive through morning traffic.

But Zara was looking at her with the innocent-hopeful eyes of a child.

"Ten minutes," Elianila said. "Then Mama has to get ready for work."

"Okay!" Zara scrambled off the bed and ran to the corner of her room where her toy box was. She returned with an armful of stuffed animals and dolls, dumping them on the bed with the unselfconscious enthusiasm of toddler-hood.

For ten minutes, Elianila immersed herself in the childhood game. She made the elephant talk in a silly voice. She helped Zara's favourite doll have tea with a teddy bear. She listened to a rambling story about daycare that involved a major social crisis over a stolen blue crayon.

She watched her daughter's face, lit up with imagination and joy, and tried not to think how many moments like this she'd missed.

"Okay," she said, glancing at the clock again. 6:35 a.m. "Mama needs to shower now."

"Five more minutes?"

"I already gave you ten."

Zara's face fell into an expression Elianila had come to dread - the one that said I knew this wouldn't last long.

"How about this," Elianila said quickly. "You go downstairs and tell Grandma what you want for breakfast. I'll be down in twenty minutes and we can eat together before I leave. Deal?"

"Deal!" Zara gathered her toys and scampered toward the door, then turned back. "Mama? I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart. More than anything."

She sat on the edge of the bed, head in her hands, feeling the weight of five and a half years pressing down on her shoulders. The kind of exhaustion sleep couldn't fix. A weariness that had seeped into her soul.

She was thirty-eight years old, tall and strong-shouldered, with deep brown skin and her father's sharp cheekbones. But staring at her reflection in the dresser mirror, she just looked tired. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, and gray threads wove through her natural curls, which she usually kept pulled back in a tight bun.

More than anything, she'd told Zara. Was that true? If she loved Zara more than anything, why was she always choosing to be somewhere else?

She stood abruptly, pushing away the thought.

The bathroom was still humid from her mother's earlier shower. She turned the water hot, hoping to steam away the exhaustion and the lingering guilt.

She descended the stairs dressed in a tailored navy pants, white blouse, blazer draped over her arm, and wearing low heels; her hair pulled back into a neat bun.

She could hear Zara's voice from the kitchen, chattering away.

"-and then Tyler said he needed the blue crayon. Because he was making the ocean. But I was making the sky. And the sky needs blue too. So Miss Jennifer said we had to share. But..."

Elianila entered the kitchen to find Zara at the table in her booster seat, methodically arranging Cheerios on her place-mat in some pattern only she understood. A bowl of the cereal sat to her right, a cup of milk to her left, and scattered O's covered most of the table's surface.

"Morning again, my dear."

"Mama! Look!" Zara pointed to her Cheerio arrangement. "It's a flower!"

Elianila studied the somewhat abstract design. "It's beautiful."

"Grandma says I can have banana after I finish my cereal."

"That sounds like a good plan."

She moved to the coffee maker and poured a cup.

The kitchen was small but tidy, morning sunlight slanting through the window over the sink. Photos covered the refrigerator, mostly of Zara at various ages, a few of hers and her mother.

Her mother appeared at the doorway. She took in Elianila's appearance with one sweeping glance - the professional clothes, the coffee cup, the car keys on the counter. "Home for a whole night," Regina said, in a neutral voice. "Should I mark the calendar?"

"Morning to you too, Mama."

Regina moved to the refrigerator, pulled out a banana, and began slicing it for Zara.

"At what time did you get in?"

"Around three."

"And you're leaving again already."

It wasn't a question.

"I have an emergency meeting at eight. Ashford wants to discuss final deployment timeline."

"Mm-hmm." Regina set the banana slices in front of Zara, who immediately began mashing them with her fingers. "And when will you be home?"

"I'm not sure. Late, probably. We're six months behind schedule and..."

"You're always six months behind schedule," Regina interrupted. "Five years now. Five-and-a-half years of 'just a little longer' and 'almost done' and 'six more months.'"

Elianila set down her cup. "This time is different..."

"Is it?" Regina looked at her questioningly. "Because I remember you saying the same thing when Zara was born. That you'd slow down after she came. That you'd be more present." She gestured at the little girl absorbed in her banana massacre. "That child is four-years old, and she treats seeing her mother like a prize."

"That's not fair..." she complained.

"Isn't it?" Regina pulled out the chair across from Elianila and sat, fixing her daughter with a look that had never failed in thirty-five years. "I'm proud of what you've accomplished. But that baby needs her mother more than the world needs your computer system."

"It's not just a computer system..."

"I know what it is. You've explained it a hundred times. It's important. It's going to save lives. It's going to change everything." Regina leaned forward. "But, who's going to save your relationship with your daughter while you're busy saving the world?"

Silence fell over the kitchen, broken only by Zara's humming and the sound of banana being thoroughly demolished.

Elianila wanted to argue. Wanted to explain this was more than career ambition. That civilization itself was collapsing. That if EDEN failed millions would die. Instead, she said quietly, "Four more months. Final deployment is August. After that, it's done. I can..."

"Four more months?" Regina's eyebrows rose. "And then what? Another project? Another crisis? Another reason why work comes first?"

"That's not...I don't..." she stopped, frustration building." What do you want me to do, Mama? Quit? Walk away when we're this close? Tell them to find someone else when the whole world is depending on this?"

"I want you to remember what actually matters." Regina stood, and moved to the sink.

Elianila drained her coffee cup, and gathered her things. "I need to go. Traffic will be bad."

"Running away from the conversation won't change the truth of it."

"I'm not running away..."

"Mama?" Zara's small voice cut through the tension. "Will you be home for dinner?"

Elianila crouched beside her daughter's chair, meeting those trusting brown eyes. "I'm going to try really hard, okay? But if I can't make it, Grandma will make you something good, and I'll see you before bedtime."

"Promise?"

"I promise I'll try my best," she said carefully.

Zara nodded, seemingly satisfied, and went back to her banana destruction.

She stood, kissed her forehead, and headed for the door.

"Elianila," her mother called after her.

She turned.

Regina stood in the kitchen doorway, looking older and more tired than Elianila wanted to acknowledge.

"Just remember," her mother said softly. "The world got along for thousands of years without your computer system. But that baby only gets one childhood. And she only gets one mother."

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and left.

Behind her, she heard Zara's cheerful voice: "Grandma, can we go to the park today?"

"Of course, darling. Of course we can," her grandmother responded.