My shoulders slumped. “I don’t know. I just… I want to talk to her. I want to know what’s going on. But…” I trailed off, uncertain of what to say.
“Let me guess,” Isaak said. “The geroi want you to keep playing flashcards with me?”
I sighed. “I do not know what that means. But yes. I am supposed to keep an eye on you.”
He looked back and forth between Ceilos and me. “Then let me come with you,” he said. “I mean… if you guys can build the time postern, then that means I can go home, right?”
Ceilos tapped his lower lip thoughtfully. “It couldn’t hurt, Nadin. He already knows too much of what’s going on. If this gets us answers…” He didn’t say any more, but I could see in his eyes that he was thinking of Tibros. If I could prove myself to the geroi—if the time postern really was the answer—then maybe our partnership…
I lowered my head. “All right,” I said. “You can help us—for now.”
Isaak grinned and thrust his right hand toward me. I stared at him, baffled.
“Oh, right,” he said. “It goes like this.” Then he took my hand, clasped it in his own, moved it up and down. I started at his touch.
“What was that?” I asked, my face flushed.
“A handshake,” said Isaak. “It means we’re in this together now. We’re a team.”
“What are you going to tell the geroi if they find out we left the hospital?” Isaak asked as we stepped into the elevator.
“I will tell them the truth,” I said. “That I was showing you around the city in the hopes that the audio-visual stimulation would help the System decode your brain waves faster.”
“And you’ll just omit the part that I don’t really need the System to communicate?” he asked with a grin.
I squared my shoulders. “A partial truth is not a lie.”
He laughed. “I like the way you think.”
The elevator hummed as it began to propel us toward the surface.
“So what’s Ceilos doing, again?”
This was the part I was most reluctant about sharing with a stranger, even one who claimed to be on our team. I’d never had a “team”—besides Ceilos and Gitrin, that is, and look at where trusting Gitrin had gotten me. But Isaak understood far too much, even when we tried to be subtle. He read people almost as well as the System itself. There was no point in concealing things from him.
“Ceilos modified your earpiece to allow you to go offline. It’s a protocol he invented and installed on the System… surreptitiously. It makes it so the System can’t track you. Then he plants a decoy elsewhere in the citidome, so that if anyone looks at the System’s tracker, they’ll think we’re somewhere else. They won’t be alerted to our absence. Ceilos and I are monitored a bit more closely than the other citizens, for obvious reasons.” A stubborn strand of coarse hair slipped across my forehead. I sighed and tucked it back behind my ear. “I was offline last night when I found you outside the dome.”
“I thought that was you,” said Isaak. “When I woke up”—he laughed—“I thought you were an old woman.”
I frowned. “Why would you think that?”
“Well, because of your hair.”
“What is wrong with my hair? Everyone in Hope Renewed has hair this color. It was selected as our regional trait after the Progression. It represents sea foam. Our capital used to be on the coast.” I still thought I heard the waves against the shoreline, sometimes, even though I hadn’t seen the sea since I was a child.
“Ceilos doesn’t have white hair,” Isaak said.
“Ceilos is from Bright Horizon. They selected a wheat color because that region was an agricultural hub… before.” My voice hitched on a knot in my throat. I swallowed it down.
“So, what, everyone on Iamos is, like… genetically modified?”
I tugged my earlobe. “It was a necessity for survival. The increased solar radiation from the atmospheric changes can be deadly, so we need all the protection we can get. Besides,” I said, “the Progression really taught us that all of us on Iamos are a family. We didn’t need differences of appearance to tear us apart.”
Isaak looked like he wanted to say something, but he hesitated.
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me that I’m wrong,” I sniffed. “Let me guess: that’s not how it is on Mars?”
He looked down at his feet. “It’s not. But Mars isn’t Iamos. Not really. Anyway, so if things are so great here thanks to the Progression, what’s up with this Liberator guy?”
“The so-called Liberator is an anarchist. He doesn’t care about the welfare of Iamos. He just wants to see the world burn.”
“Sounds like Henry,” Isaak muttered. I cocked an eyebrow, but he didn’t elaborate.
The elevator slowed and shuddered to a stop. A moment later, the doors slid open. We were on the ground floor of the capitol building now, a massive stepped pyramid made of stone and glass that rose from the caverns, stretching nearly to the top of the blue dome. This was the riskiest part of the venture—we were in the geroi’s territory. I could only hope that Antos and Melusin were upstairs in their enclosed offices. If they happened to see us here, I’d never be able to lie my way out of it.
“Put your hood up before we go outside,” I said. I had given Isaak a plivos’ cloak, made of heavy burlap, before we left the hospital. “I get enough attention when I visit the upper levels. If anyone sees you, word will surely get back to the geroi.”
“I’ll stick out like a sore thumb, huh?”
The loose strand of hair fell forward again. I tucked it back. “I suppose so.”
We passed through the arched doorway of the capitol building, and Isaak drew in his breath when I opened the outer gate. The citidome spread out before us, an enormous metropolis of red-clay buildings and cloth-draped stalls, throngs of plivoi milling between them. The air was thick with the smell of fried food and gurza dung.
“Wow,” Isaak said at last. “This is incredible. It’s like… Ancient Rome meets Krypton, or something.”
I wondered how long Isaak was going to continue using bizarre idioms like that before he realized they meant nothing to me. I pulled up the hood of my own cloak and led him into the city.
“How many people live here?” he asked as we passed through the marketplace.
“Slightly less than one million.”
“Wow,” he repeated. “That’s even bigger than Tierra Nueva. Well, if you factor in the metro area… but all of them live inside this dome?”
“Yes. The plivoi live here in the upper levels. The esotoi live between, in the uppermost caverns which open out onto the surface. And the patroi live in the deepest level, far below the surface.” Where the risk of radiation exposure was at its lowest. I omitted that part, though.
“That’s incredible. How many domes are there on Iamos?” Isaak asked.
I swallowed. “Just six.”
“Six? And they’re all this size?”
“Yes. There are also two smaller citidomes on Hamos, the third planet. But that is all that remains of our population.”
“I’m sorry,” Isaak said. He stopped short. “Wait a minute—you say Venus is the third planet?”
“Hamos,” I corrected him. I gestured skyward. The thick blue glass obscured it, but you could still see it there in the sky, shining like a second sun. “Why do you ask?”
Isaak looked up at the planet thoughtfully. “No reason,” he finally said. “Everything is just so different. I wonder how far back in time I traveled.”
“I would have to look at the posternkey’s data coordinates more carefully to know that. Actually,” I admitted, “that might be too advanced even for me. We need Gitrin.”
“Well, here’s hoping we find her, then,” Isaak said.
The noise of the marketplace was deafening. People jostled against one another, voices shouted to be heard above the cacophony. I tried to push forward quickly, but Isaak hung back, stopping in front of almost every stall to see what was ins
ide.
“What kind of meat is that?” he asked, staring at a tray of smoky-hot kebabs with ravenous eyes.
“Kela,” I said.
“Is that some kind of bird?”
I sighed pointedly. “I don’t know what you mean by ‘bird.’ A kela is a kela. Would you like to try it?”
He stared at the tray a few moments longer, as if debating whether his hunger was strong enough to risk trying a foreign meat. Finally he moved his head up and down, something I had figured out was his equivalent of saying yes. I fought the urge to smirk and ordered two skewers of kebabs from the merchant.
Beyond the marketplace were the insulae of the plivoi. Gitrin lived in one of these mudbrick structures—on a lower level, because of her status as tutor to a patroin. This area of the city always made me uncomfortable, though I wouldn’t confess that to Isaak. Even with Enforcers on every corner, I never knew how people might react if they knew the daughter of the geroi was among them. Hope Renewed had been a relatively peaceful city until the Liberator got his foothold here. He made them forget that the way we lived now—the citidomes, the castes—was simply out of necessity. The geroi cared only for the good of Iamos, but sometimes that meant making hard decisions. It was their job—my job—to do what was best for the people, even if the people couldn’t see it.
At the intersection of two major vi’i was a large public square. A massive fountain stood in its center, and throngs of plivoi milled around it, filling amphorae with water to bring back to their homes.
Isaak, holding his nearly-empty skewer with sticky fingers, glanced around the plaza then back to me. He swallowed and asked, “Now what?”
“Now we wait for Ceilos. He said he’d meet us here when he was done planting the decoy earpiece.” I tossed my skewer into a wastebin and leaned against the fountain’s concrete base. Across the plaza, a group of young women and men, not much older than myself, were playing ball on a haphazardly-constructed court. Their raucous laughter echoed off the sides of the buildings. Isaak craned his neck to watch them. I sighed, looking down at my feet. You’d never catch a patroin playing ball in the street.
A group of children, too young for apprenticeships, passed by us in two orderly lines, flanked by Caretakers. The child at the end of the left-hand line stopped to pull a rock from her shoe. When it was free, she glanced up at me and flashed me a gap-toothed grin. Involuntarily, I smiled back, until one of the Caretakers took notice and cuffed the girl’s ear. The girl dutifully hurried back to her place in line as I stared after them.
“That game’s like ulama,” Isaak said.
I blinked, dragged from my thoughts by his voice. “I’m sorry?”
“A ballgame they play in parts of Mexico. It’s based on the game they used to play in ancient times.”
“I do not know what Mexico is,” I said, “but we have played this game for a long time. It’s one of the few things that carried over after the Progression.”
Isaak laughed. “You should teach me. I bet you’re Hope Renewed’s star player, right?”
My face grew hot under his scrutiny. “Well, I don’t know how to play. The plivoi play it. Some of the esotoi, too. But the patroi do not have much time for frivolities.”
“All work and no play makes Nadin a dull girl,” Isaak said.
I avoided his gaze, standing up to look across the plaza. “Where is Ceilos? He should be here by now.”
Two of the ballplayers, a man and a woman, broke away from the group, jogging over to the fountain. Their faces were red and shone with sweat. They stopped a short distance from us, scooping their hands into the water to drink.
“We have time for one more round before we get back to work,” the woman said, splashing water on her face. “Unless you want to surrender now.”
The man wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m just getting started, Corin. You know my stamina is unmatched.”
The woman scoffed. “I don’t know if I’d call three minutes ‘stamina’.” She laughed at his wounded expression, splashing water in his direction. “I’m just joking, yacunos.”
The man said something I couldn’t hear and pulled the woman close. She giggled and draped herself around him, her hands snaking up under the tight fabric of his shirt. I grimaced and pulled the hood of my cloak further over my face.
“What’s your problem?” Isaak asked.
“These plivoi are like animals,” I whispered.
“What’s wrong with them?” He stared pointedly. I jabbed my elbow into his side.
“Stop looking at them! We’re trying to be inconspicuous!” When he ignored me, I sighed and added in a low voice, “They practically mate on the streets.”
The other ballplayers called to the pair at the fountain. The two broke apart, grinning and running to join them. Isaak watched them go. “They were just being affectionate,” he said.
“You mean that didn't”—I paused, struggling to find the right word—“bother you?”
“No. Honestly, it’s the first time since I've been here that I've seen anyone act human.”
I glared at him. “How is that what makes someone human?”
“I dunno.” He shifted, looking down at his shoes. “Being happy. Being in love. No one in the underground seems to love each other.”
His words stung. “We all love each other,” I corrected him. “We live for each other. It’s the way of Iamos.”
“Yeah, but, I mean... it’s different with your partner,” Isaak said. “Isn’t it? I mean, don’t you and Ceilos...?”
He trailed off uncomfortably. I felt something twist inside me, an unfamiliar niggle of worry. “No. We are patroi, Isaak.” I looked back at the plivoi, laughing as they tossed the leather ball around the makeshift court. My stomach still taut, I said, “So... This is how you would behave?”
He didn't look at me. “Not with just anyone,” he finally said, his voice barely audible. “But with the right person...”
“Nadin.”
I started, looking over my shoulder. Ceilos stood beside us. I hadn’t even noticed him approach.
“It’s ready,” he said.
I pulled my cloak closer about myself. “Good. Let’s get moving.”
Isaak took one last bite of his kebab and tossed the skewer into the wastebin, glancing at the ball players before moving to follow us. Something about his expression made my stomach twist into uneasy knots.
I wanted nothing more than to forget that this conversation ever took place. But for some reason, it felt burned indelibly into my brain.
◦ • ◦
The air inside the insula was cool, but it tasted stale. The strong, pungent scent of dried herbs hung heavy in the stagnant air. The interior walls of the dim corridor were made of glass, but unlike those of the hospital building, they were frosted, allowing light to filter through without sacrificing privacy.
It was so quiet after the cacophony of the marketplace, it made my ears ring. The only signs of life were the artificial lights that shone through the walls of the apartments and the occasional movement of a shadowy silhouette on the other side of the glass.
Gitrin’s apartment was dark. I knocked on the sliding door, but there was no answer.
“Looks like no one’s home,” Isaak said.
I swallowed, unsure of what to do next. “Where could she be?”
Ceilos pushed past me, shoving the door open.
“What are you doing?” I hissed.
“We’re never going to learn the truth if we just hover outside waiting for permission,” he said. Isaak grinned and followed him inside.
I glanced over my shoulder. One of the silhouettes behind the glass wall moved slightly. I knew, rationally, that they couldn’t see me, but I felt jittery nonetheless. I shook it off and hurried into Gitrin’s apartment.
And stopped short just inside the door.
Gitrin’s apartment was a shambles. Furniture was upended, her antique woven-grass chairs torn to shreds. Ceilos knelt beside a s
mall bronze chest lying on its side. Gitrin’s clothing spilled out of it, strewn in a crumpled mess across the room.
“What happened here?” Isaak asked.
“I don’t know.” I could barely manage the words. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this. “Gitrin?” I called. There was no reply.
On the far wall, the smooth reddish-brown clay was etched with writing. I moved closer to get a better look. It was the old-fashioned hieratic that had been in use before the Progression. I struggled to remember the strange syllables from my studies. Haltingly, I read, “N’elytherios tou shenos.”
“In the name of freedom,” Ceilos repeated.
“What does that mean?” said Isaak.
“I’m almost afraid to find out,” Ceilos said, turning to look around the rest of the apartment.
Isaak trailed after him into the bedroom. “Do you think it’s that Liberator guy?”
I stared at the etched writing once more, running my hand over the carvings. Isaak had suggested that before, but I hadn’t believed him. What could they possibly want with Gitrin?
“System protocol initiated. Subject Nadin recognized. Begin transmission.”
“Nadin,” Gitrin’s voice said in my ear.
I nearly screamed. I whirled around to look behind me, but there was no one else with me. No sounds apart from Isaak and Ceilos’ muffled voices in the other room. I turned back to the writing, running my fingers across the word elytherios again. At my touch, the voice was back in my ear. “Nadin, you must listen to me. There isn’t much time.”
My pulse throbbed in my temples. I knew it was Gitrin. And just like when I’d held the posternkey, only I could hear it.
“If you are receiving this message, I am no longer in Hope Renewed, and there is a very good chance that the city is in danger. I know you have come here with questions, but I’m afraid you will not find the answers here. You will have to search. Seek, and you will find. Begin where we began—the answer is in plain sight, if you know where to look. The three sisters will guide the way. Touch the highest peak, and you will find me in the place where freedom lies.”
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