But the biggest change in Tierra Nueva came with the founding of AresTec almost ten annums ago. It was the first corporation ever to be based on Mars instead of on Earth. Their corporate offices are here in Tierra Nueva, and everything they do—from design to business to manufacturing their electronics—is done here.
I was only eight when it happened, so I didn’t really understand what was going on, but I remember that no one in town could shut up about it. It was this huge opportunity for people on Mars, and here in Tierra Nueva at that. And I definitely noticed that things in town changed after AresTec opened its doors. It wasn’t just that they’d built Sparta Island and the huge AresTec campus—the whole face of downtown changed. The older, kind of rundown areas in the business district got bulldozed, replaced with high-rises and tourist traps, coffee shops and kitschy boutiques. Then the mansions started appearing, dotting the cliffs on the northwest side of town. The Academy had opened not long after. In what seemed like a really short amount of time, Tierra Nueva got really, really big.
Actually, all of Mars was getting really, really big.
With so many people from so many different backgrounds coming and working and living together, GSAF had a lot of work to do to keep the new world in order. And that was the “use” that the Academy had seen for me. I was being groomed for a translating job with GSAF, the details of which I still didn’t really know. But I guess the idea of a native Martian who could speak eight languages—and that wasn’t even counting the dead ones, like Olmec and Mayan, that Abuelo had taught me—had been very appealing to the scholarship board at the Academy. So I’d been offered a full ride, with my linguistics emphasis already laid out for me as an incoming freshman.
My parents had been ridiculously pleased by this. I suppose they’d been a little bit worried about my future beforehand. My mom’s a GSAF bioengineer—basically a hacker for plants, splicing them together like a jigsaw puzzle in a laboratory in the hopes that she can take a plant that had evolved for life on Earth and change it into one that can survive on a totally different planet. She loves her job, but it’s not exactly known for its spectacular pay grade. My dad, on the other hand, had worked in a factory. They’d met here on Mars, and if my abuela’s lengthy rantings about how they “always knew he was no good” are to be believed, it wasn’t exactly a match made in heaven.
Either way, between the two of them we were comfortable enough, but I knew they were worried about my future. Dad was always telling me I was living my life wrong, rolling his eyes at me for being myself. Saying my identity was the product of an overly-active imagination, and if I didn’t knock it off, I’d be sorry when I got older. The Academy scholarship had been like a dream come true—a guarantee that I would be successful, that maybe I could “make it” as an adult after all. My future was laid out for me.
I hadn’t been quite as thrilled as they were, although I didn’t say anything about it. Sure, I liked learning languages, but… the Academy’s plan, it wasn’t what I wanted to do with my life, you know what I mean? Working in some windowless cubicle in the GSAF building seemed like a complete soul-drain. I’d never told anyone, but what I really wanted, more than anything, was to be like Abuelo. To be an archaeologist. Working outside, digging in the dirt, uncovering hidden treasure. I wanted to hold the ancient past in my hand and uncover its secrets. I’d even hoped to maybe dig at the same site in Veracruz, even though I’d known there wasn’t much time left before they’d have to shut it down for safety reasons.
But things hadn’t been going well between my parents. And when I got the scholarship, that changed for a little while. Dad was proud of me for the first time since I started middle school. So I went along with it, happily believing that everything was going to be better. If it meant Mom and Dad would stop fighting, anything would be worth it.
The fighting hadn’t stopped for long.
“So, do you like the Academy? And your program?” Erick broke the silence again. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts, it took me a minute to come up with a response.
“Yeah, I guess. I mean, school is school, right? And I’ll get a good job out of it, at least.”
Erick signaled to merge onto the bridge fording Santos Creek. On the north side of the river, downtown bustled with its typical fervor. The neighborhoods across the bridge seemed dead in comparison, rows of tiny duplexes with minuscule yards and peeling siding. “Naturally,” Erick said, keeping his eyes fixed on the road. “That’s important. People would say it’s wise of you to have such a mature idea about your future at your age.” His voice sounded odd, and I glanced sideways at him. “I’ve heard a lot of good things about the Academy, the way it structures its emphases like a college major. Career preparation at the high school level, rather than post-secondary. It gives kids an extra edge, which we always need in this economy. Of course, I would argue that seventeen is kind of a young age to have your whole life written in stone. You never know what direction your interests are going to lead you in.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been hearing that all week—AresTec, GSAF, you name it. Guys in cravats and ties telling me to follow my dreams. Kind of a moot point, though, isn’t it? It’s not like I can change my scholarship.”
“That’s true. Well, it’s all academic, regardless. I guess what I mean is… I hope you’ll go into this survey with an open mind, Isaak. I know Andy was looking to give the three of you a punishment, but that’s not really my style. I honestly don’t see any harm in pursuing your natural-born curiosity. The whole reason we’re out there in the first place is to learn. We want to know the whole story behind Mars’ geologic history. I’m as eager to learn about the processes that created that arch as you are.”
Somehow I doubted that, unless he’d somehow come across my dad’s coin, too.
Gravel crunched beneath the tires as the truck turned onto my street. “Like I said earlier, geology and archaeology have a lot in common. So I’m hoping we can turn this whole situation into something fun. I know it’s been a rough couple years for you.”
I bristled. I was getting tired of hearing iterations of that sentence.
“But I have to say,” Erick went on, “I think I understand why you jumped into that trench. You’re a bright kid. You’re curious. I know what that’s like, especially when you’re maybe in an environment that’s not challenging you in the ways your mind craves.” When I stared at him, dumbfounded, he chuckled. “You know, you kind of remind me of me when I was your age.”
I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. The anger building in my chest was too intense. It choked the words right out of me. Who the hell did this guy think he was? To think he knew me, after just meeting me a couple of times? To think he had a right to that, just because he wanted in my mom’s pants? And to say I was like him. I could tell right then and there that he and I were nothing alike.
He was wrong. He had no clue why I had jumped in that trench.
I kicked the passenger door open before he’d even finished pulling into the driveway. “See you on Saturday,” he called as I stomped past the garage up to the front door and jammed my thumb onto the keypad. I could still feel his eyes on my back as I slammed the door behind me.
It was four o’clock. Mom and Celeste wouldn’t be home for a couple more hours, at least. It was time to dig out that box.
I searched high and low for that damned thing. My first thought was that it would be in Mom’s lab, the converted garden shed in our backyard where she worked on her smaller projects. But I checked every drawer and cupboard, every nook and cranny, and found nothing. It wasn’t in the garage, either, or in the kitchen. I looked through her dresser drawers, the back corner of her closet, everything.
It occurred to me, as I slumped back on my heels after feeling around under her shoe rack, that she might have thrown the box away when she took all of Dad’s clothes to the recycling center. The thought made me sick to my stomach.
I closed my eyes, trying to remember what the coin had looked lik
e. I was sure the arch engraved on its face looked just like the one out at Erick’s dig site, but my memory was fuzzy. There had been other things in the box that had held my attention more, things that were more definitely Dad’s, like his spare e-cig atomizer and his great-uncle’s wristwatch. And his wedding band.
That’s what I’d been looking at when Mom caught me. I still remember the way her face hardened when she saw that ring there, in a box of junk he must have buried in the garden before he took off. I still don’t know why he’d left that stuff there. I guess maybe I’d hoped he was planning to come back for it. But when Mom saw that ring, I think she knew once and for all that he wasn’t coming back.
Mom had taken the box and told me she wanted me to forget about it. Fat chance of that.
I sighed and opened my eyes. It must be long gone by now, buried in some landfill where I’d never find it. I was just starting to get back to my feet when my eye caught on the hatch to the crawlspace on the ceiling of the closet. We’d never stored anything up there, since it was loaded with insulation and Mom was worried Celeste or I would get sick. But I shoved the hatch open now and, stretching up on my tiptoes, reached inside.
I felt around for a few seconds, encountering nothing but dust and bits of fiberglass. But then my fingers struck something hard and metal.
I pulled the object out. It was the box.
It looked like some kind of vintage lunch box you’d see in flix, with the remnants of a painted cartoon character on its lid. I didn’t know how old it was, but I knew he’d brought it from Earth. The hinges were rusty, which made opening the lid difficult, but I finally managed to pry it open. There was all the junk I remembered, all the weirdly personal objects that seemed strange to leave behind. Little knick-knacks and trinkets, and a handful of memory cards and flash drives.
And amongst all of Dad’s Dad things, shoved up in the corner, was the coin.
You could tell right away that it was ancient. It was made out of some kind of metal, but it was all corroded and discolored, kind of a greenish hue now. Its reverse was engraved with nine circles, each differently sized. The front face of the coin, meanwhile, had three marks along the upper rim, but they were too worn for me to make out. They didn’t quite look like writing; more like pictures, or maybe symbols of some kind.
And beneath these markings was an engraving of an arch. It looked bigger than the one that I’d seen at the dig site—that one was only waist high, and the one depicted on the coin showed a figure standing beneath it, as if passing through a doorway—but the pattern of the flat-topped stones was identical, sort of an upside-down-V-shaped archway.
I hadn’t thought much about the coin at the time Henry and I found the box. We’d come across it, buried in the garden, while we were supposed to be yanking up spider weeds to get the ground ready for Mom to plant the new experimental seeds she’d developed to grow during the long Martian autumn. It had been clear when we’d got the lid open that it was Dad’s stuff, but there was so much else in the box that I hadn’t dwelled on the coin too much. I guess I’d figured he had probably gotten it from one of his friends at the factory. You’d never believe the kind of weird junk they’d brought with them from Earth.
Maybe arches like this were common. Erick had said it was a natural formation—maybe there were some like it on Earth, too. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. But something felt really weird about this whole thing.
I hadn’t heard the garage door go up, but the slam of the kitchen door was unmistakable. My little sister Celeste’s voice echoed noisily down the hall. She was chattering at Mom about something they’d done at her after-school program.
Crap. I slid my palmtop out of my pocket to look at the time. It was already after six. Quickly, I yanked the crawlspace hatch closed and rushed out of my mom’s room.
The idea had been to sneak the box into my own room, but as I turned the corner, there was Mom standing in my doorway.
“Oh, Isaak, there you are,” she said.
“Hey, Mom. How was your day?” My heart was pounding so loud that I was sure she’d be able to hear it, but she didn’t seem to notice anything amiss.
“Just the usual. You know, boring lab stuff.” She grinned and nudged me. “But how about you? What’s this I hear about you volunteering at Erick’s geological survey? That was unexpected!”
“Oh, yeah, well, you know.” My fingers clenched around the box behind my back. I hoped it didn’t look too obvious. “It was… fresher than I thought it would be.”
“But that’s wonderful! To see you taking an interest and engaging in something…” I thought for panicked a minute that she was going to hug me, and how exactly would I be able to conceal the box then? But she got this far-off look on her face and sort of turned, looking off into nowhere. “Ay, niño, I was really worried about you for a while there. Well, I suppose it’s only natural, such big changes at such a young age—everyone needs time to cope…”
I tried to take advantage of her reverie to creep backward into my bedroom. I’d forgotten, of course, about Celeste. I hadn’t even noticed her standing in her own doorway, watching Mom fawn over me with her ever-sticky fingers in her mouth, until I heard her say, “Zak, what’s in the box?”
Dammitdammitdammitdammit
Mom’s eyes flicked over to me and her smile faded. “Isaak, what are you hiding there?”
“Nothing.”
“Isaak.”
Her face left no room for argument. I sighed and reluctantly produced the lunch box.
She frowned momentarily, as if trying to remember where she knew the thing from. Then realization dawned. “Isaak, where did you get that?”
I hate when adults do crap like that. “Where did you get that?” You torquing know where I got it from, you’re the one who put it there. What you really want to know is, “What were you doing in my closet? Besides invading my privacy and defying my orders, that is.”
I sighed. Might as well come clean. “It’s just, I saw something at Erick’s dig site that reminded me of something I saw with Dad’s stuff—”
As soon as the word “Dad” came out of my mouth, Mom blew her stack. “That’s what all this is about?” I wouldn’t say she shouted, but she wasn’t exactly quiet. “Here I was thinking you were just expressing an interest—”
“Well, technically I am. I’m interested in knowing why, exactly, Dad had something in this box that looks like something from Erick’s dig site.”
“Like what, a piece of equipment? He probably stole it.”
“Not equipment! It was… like… a thing they dug up. There was a picture of it. Sort of. In here.” It sounded completely insane, once I said it aloud. What was I expecting, aliens?
“Isaak,” Mom groaned, “you know that’s not possible.”
“No kidding! But that doesn’t change the fact that—”
“I hid this box for a reason, Isaak. I saw the way that you were looking at it the last time you found it. Your father is gone. He hasn’t even contacted you or Celeste once since he went back to Earth. The last thing I want is for you to spend your time chasing the shadow of a man who doesn’t want anything to do with you.”
Her words stung like a slap in the face. I knew they were true, but to hear them spoken aloud hurt in a way I wouldn’t have expected.
“I’m not chasing anyone’s shadow, Mom,” I argued. “But I just… don’t you think it was weird, how he just… disappeared like that? I mean, leaving is one thing, but to take off with no warning, not even bringing any of his stuff with him?”
“No, Isaak. I don’t think it was weird. It happens every day. It’s a coward’s move.” Mom’s voice went from livid with anger to just hollow, almost dead. Maybe she wasn’t as over it as I’d thought she was. “We all knew your father was on his way out. It was just a question of when.”
My shoulders slumped. “Okay, but… why’d he bury the box? Why not take this stuff with him?”
“That, I don’t know. But there’s
no point obsessing over it. Sometimes you need to know when to just let things go. Let this go, Isaak.”
So I let the box go.
She took it but didn’t go back in her bedroom with it. She would have to hide it somewhere new, now, to keep it away from me. Maybe this time she’d throw it away after all.
It didn’t matter. I wouldn’t look for it again. The coin was in my pocket.
◦ • ◦
Neither of us brought it up again, but an awkward silence hovered over us throughout dinner. I looked down at my plate the whole time and poked sullenly at my calabacitas, stirring the small squash and tomatoes together with the beans and rice until they formed a wholly unappetizing brown lump. Celeste chattered excitedly about what she’d done at school today, and how this friend and that friend weren’t speaking to each other again, and on and on and on, while Mom’s eyes bored into the top of my head. Eventually I dumped my half-eaten plate in the sink and wandered back into my room.
I had no homework, what with Career Week and everything, and for the first time in my life, I actually found myself wishing that I did. Then I’d have something to think about other than the fact that I’d alienated my two best friends, torqued off my mother, and gotten myself roped into Saturday school for the rest of the annum.
I put on my Speculus headset and browsed the internet for a while, looking for… I don’t know. Something to show that I wasn’t crazy. But I couldn’t find any information about that coin of Dad’s.
Next I tried searching for the arch. This is how I learned that corbeled vaults, as they are apparently called, are a dime a dozen. Practically every civilization on Earth had built something that looked like that. There was even a similar-looking one in Veracruz, where Abuelo’s old summer site had been. I couldn’t find any natural examples that looked like the same—most natural arches were worn out of solid rock, not stacked in a pattern like that—but I was starting to think that Erick was right. It was just a coincidence, the coin came from somewhere on Earth, and now I was stuck spending my weekends with my mom’s new loser boyfriend digging up rocks.
Fourth World Page 3
