by Lu, Marie
She says it with a question hanging at the end. I don’t answer right away, either. I nod out toward the city. “More or less,” I reply.
Except it isn’t really the same. Eden’s chip installed something else onto the system, a few alterations to what it had once been. June knows it too, and when I meet her gaze again, she doesn’t seem surprised.
“I hear there’s a protest planned in the Undercity tomorrow,” she says.
In the old Level system, a protest would have been too hard for Undercity citizens, those with lowly, single-digit Levels, to participate. The penalty for going against the government is having your Levels halved, and your future Leveling severely punished.
But with Eden’s new chip and our alterations, that won’t be the case any longer. Across Ross City, people will gradually find out that they won’t be penalized for protesting. Or marching. They won’t be punished for doing what Pressa had been doing for her father—trying to transfer her own points to help him reach a Level where he could buy the medications he needed. There are a dozen differences we’d secretly implemented onto the Level system.
Whether or not the city will let it all stay in place, though, is another question. I’m going to have to explain it all before the AIS.
“When are you going to let them know what you did?” June says after a while.
“They want to see us this afternoon, as soon as Eden and I are out of this hospital.” I clear my throat.
She nods. “If you need me to vouch for anything…”
I smile at her, then reach over to touch her hand. “I know,” I reply.
Her hand lingers, holding gently on to mine. “We can’t save the world,” she says softly.
“But we still try anyway,” I say. “One day at a time.”
Her hand squeezes tighter. I wonder if we’d ever had this kind of ease around each other, where we could show our love for one another without a dark cloud perpetually hanging over our heads. It’s a strange new feeling, this freedom.
“Eden’s internship at Batalla starts soon,” I say. “I’ll be headed your way.”
She smiles. “Are you ready?”
I don’t think so. Maybe I never will be. Still, my heartbeat quickens at the thought of being back in the same country with her, and I look away, suddenly nervous. “I’ve never belonged here,” I say instead. “Maybe the Republic has always been my home. It’s about time, yeah? It just took Eden giving me the nudge to do it.”
A glint of disappointment f lits across June’s expression, and I can only hope I know why.
I keep my hand around hers and pull her toward me. Then I kiss her, our lips barely touching, as tenderly as I can.
“My home is where you are,” I murmur.
Her expression softens, and she leans against me, her body warm. It feels, as always, right.
“Come home soon, then,” she whispers back.
* * *
When the AIS sends for us, they call for us both. Eden and me. We find ourselves standing in the center of a circle on the top floor of the AIS headquarters, surrounded by an arc of politicians and agency directors.
It’s not just the AIS we’re answering to. It’s the President and his council as well. The whole thing looks like a goddy trial.
Beside me, Eden is calm, his face steady and chin up. I look for signs of his usual anxieties—his hands wringing, his jaw tight, his back stiff. But he’s not doing any of that today.
President Ikari frowns at our calm state. He leans forward on his elevated dais and weaves his fingers together. His eyes fix on me. “Four days ago, the man known as Dominic Hann corrupted the Level system and led a riot that left Ross City on fire and in ruins. As I understand from what Director Min has told me, you and your brother acted on your own discretion to stop what he was doing. Is this all correct?”
Eden nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir,” I echo him.
President Ikari frowns. “I’ve been informed, however, that instead of restoring the Level system to what it once was, you’ve altered other parts of the system to suit yourself. Have you done this, Mr. Daniel Altan Wing?”
“It was me, sir,” Eden speaks up first. “I implemented the new system when I deleted Dominic Hann’s hack.”
Everyone shifts in their chairs. A chorus of murmurs fills the chamber. I glance quickly to where Director Min is sitting. She nods quietly at us to continue. Whether or not she’ll stand up for us, I’m still not sure, but I return an imperceptible nod to her and look back at the President.
President Ikari sighs. “And why would you do such a thing?” he says.
Eden hesitates. In the silence, I take over.
“Because sometimes, sir, the only way to make your government listen is to force them to,” I say.
There’s another round of whispers and gasps. I’m reminded of the Republic’s Senate, of when June had once been so unhappy trying to maneuver through their ranks. It’s a special kind of hell, speaking frankly in a system that doesn’t reward honesty at all.
“With all due respect, President Ikari,” I go on, “I know what it’s like to live in a place where people have no choices. What happens in a world like that, when you’re unable to speak out against something you think is wrong?”
Ikari frowns at me. “Are you trying to compare Antarctica to the Republic of America, Mr. Wing?”
I hold my hands up. “I know how different the two are. But the Republic was founded on a system of fear. People allowed the first Elector to come to power because they were afraid of everything and everyone else. They turned in on themselves, closed their borders, and gave up their freedoms in exchange for security. And then, one day, we woke up realizing that we’d handed over so much that we’d given ourselves up too. I know what that feels like all too well. It’s part of the reason why we left the Republic to come here in the first place.”
I’m not sure if my words are sinking in with the council, but hearing what the Republic did wrong seems to make them sit up straighter. As if they know that their country is better. The President studies me for a moment, then nods at Eden. “You’re the top student of Ross City. Why don’t you tell us your thinking behind all this, and whether or not you align with your brother?”
I think of the way Eden always left early for university in the mornings—with that tense look on his face, bracing himself for another difficult day. But he doesn’t hesitate now. He just looks the President square in the eye and answers.
“Antarctica was founded on the principle of innovation. Wasn’t it?” He looks around at the council, and to my satisfaction, they look happy with his words. Eden knows how to play this game, too. “I learned it when I came here for school. You teach it to all your citizens. This country was built on the idea of progress and experimentation. All of this—the Levels, the biodome—came from young people who created big, bold, new things that took the world by storm. So many came here in the hopes that this would be where they could find the freedom to be who they wanted to be. They flocked to this unknown, barren land because they were excited by what it could become. They were dazzled by the brilliant and the frightening, the technology that was changing things day by day here. That’s how Antarctica became what it is today. It’s still so young, barely a country, and yet it holds so much power.”
He shakes his head and points out at the windows, where the glass separates us from the sky beyond. “This isn’t the Antarctica of the past anymore. Ross City no longer rewards the very principles it was founded on. It’s a place where people are forced to conform to what this council thinks is right or wrong. They can’t speak up about their frustrations and hardships. The Level system was supposed to be a system that encouraged good behavior and success. Now it’s just a system that holds half of the city’s population back. There’s no hope for people in the Undercity. How can there be?”
“So you took it upon yourself to change what you thought was wrong.” The President narrows his eyes at my brother.
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Eden takes a deep breath. “So I made some adjustments,” he says with a slight shrug. In that gesture, I recognize a glimmer of myself. “Isn’t that how all change happens? Someone just has to do it first?”
The head of the police unit snorts at his words and looks at the President. “The boy put in a stop to Levels deducted for rioting against the government. There’s already a march scheduled for dawn tomorrow. They halted points associated with health care and welfare. They’ve altered points deducted for crimes.”
“For crimes of what?” Eden interrupts. “Not having a home? Taking away their Levels if they can’t afford something? Let people protest without punishment. Let them have a chance to help their families. Let people struggling in the lowest floors of the city know that you still care about them, too.”
The President’s stare on Eden is ice-cold. “What you’ve done is the height of arrogance, boy.”
“Maybe.” He steps forward this time. “But it’s because I care. Because, sometimes, being patriotic means calling out the problems rotting away your country. I’m not saying we don’t want to work with you. But we represent millions of voices you’re not hearing right now. If you want to preserve the spirit of what made Antarctica a world leader to begin with, you should take a look at your blind spots.”
Murmurs rumble among the council members. I look over to Eden. He’s pale, and frightened, but he stands his ground with his fists clenched at his sides, and all I can think about is the memory that comes to me now—the moment he had volunteered himself, without hesitation, to help the Republic find a cure for the plague. I think of the determined light in his eyes, the resolve he’d had to save a country that had taken everything from him. I think of his plans now for the Republic, his architectural suggestions for what to do with the old Trial stadiums and the old military halls.
No matter the demons that haunt him, he has still remained a light. And I find myself feeling prouder of him in this moment than I ever have. When he glances at me, searching for approval, I give him a nod and a smile.
“You will stay in Ross City,” the President finally says. The murmurs around him die down. “Until we have decided the appropriate course of punishment for you both for your actions. The Level system will be reset to its original state.”
I never expected the city to approve of what we’d done. Neither had Eden. But even now, as the President speaks, I see some uncomfortable shifting around the room. There isn’t unanimous agreement on this.
President Ikari sighs, then continues. “Meanwhile, I will also convene a special council to discuss possible solutions to some of what you have brought up. You’ll be notified if your services are needed again.”
It’s not much. Change never happens quickly, anyway. But something in his tone lifts a burden off my chest, and I exchange a look with my brother. He had done this. However things go in the future here, he was the one who planted the seed.
I half expect Eden to hesitate when he speaks again. But he doesn’t. His voice is clear, and his shoulders are straight. He bows his head slightly at the President, as if this is something he’s used to doing every day.
“Of course, sir,” he says.
EDEN
Our final sentence comes a week later.
Two counts each of insubordination—one for heading back to Ross City without notifying anyone, and the second for installing changes onto the original Level system. Our own Levels are halved. Daniel is released from the AIS.
Prison time, however, is pardoned by the President himself. He has permitted us to return to the Republic on schedule, in time for my internship with Batalla Hall. Returning to Antarctica at any time will require his personal consent.
It all works out in the end. I think our time in Antarctica has come to a close.
* * *
A month later, on our last day in Ross City, I head back to the Undercity. My system is tracking my every movement now—Daniel knows exactly where I’m going, as does the entire government. But I’d gotten permission for today. Today is when I’m seeing Pressa, who has been released from the hospital for her shoulder injury.
Things already look different by the time I arrive in the Undercity. The street’s still grungy, of course, the tightly packed stands still billowing smoke from their grills, the half-working neon signs still hanging over the crammed storefronts. There are still zero-level folks huddled against the walls, trying to sleep in the midst of all the bustle.
But I also see a newly appointed task force at work. President Ikari had kept his word, at least—people with blue armbands are surveying Undercity civilians, interviewing them and listening to their grievances. Here and there, I see scattered groups of people gathered to hear someone giving a speech, or pockets of protesters waving signs in the air. The Levels hovering over their heads aren’t being deducted for their protesting.
The shop that Pressa’s father owned is still being repaired. One of their neighbors is nailing a new windowpane in, while two others are hoisting a new neon sign over the store. I pause to smile at the sight.
Pressa is standing outside the shop and calling directions up at the two working on the sign. Her left arm’s still in a cast, but she seems like she’s moving around pretty easily with it as she directs them.
When she sees me, she pauses to pat me on the shoulder. “Glad you came by today,” she says.
“Glad to see you smiling,” I reply, and she grins that familiar little grin of hers, leaning subtly against my shoulder as she does. It sends a warm current through my chest.
“I brought you something,” I tell her, then reach into my backpack and take out a frame encasing a delicate arrangement of dried flowers. It’s the first time I’ve ever given her something like this, and I blush as I hold it up for her. “I thought it might look nice in your father’s shop, you know, herbs and everything.”
Pressa holds the frame before her with a look of wonder. Her eyes shine with moisture. “Oh, Eden,” she breathes, tapping a finger gently against the glass. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
I beam, feeling my heart lift at her words. Then I reach into my pocket and take out a fresh flower, a small yellow bud that I hadn’t pressed into the frame. “And one for you,” I add, tucking it neatly behind her ear.
She looks up at me with a smile that brightens everything around us. She seems happier than the last time I saw her—and even though the death of her father still haunts her eyes, there’s also a sense of purpose there, that she can still find him if she preserves her father’s store here. I smile at her, taking in her beauty, and feel the sharp stab of leaving her behind.
I clear my throat and try not to think about it. “How’s Marren doing, managing the store?” I ask her.
“Good,” she says, squinting inside the shop’s windows, where her father’s assistant is now leaning over the counter and measuring out several spoonfuls of herbs for a customer. “You should’ve seen him the first few days. He was running around like a headless chicken. But I think he’s settled into a groove.”
We look on as Marren searches the shelves in vain, scratching his head as he tries to figure out where he has stocked all the new medicine the shop now carries. I can’t help laughing a little.
“Good groove,” I say.
Pressa smiles. “He’s always had it.”
Daniel, in his final AIS act, spoke up for Mr. Yu’s shop. Director Min legalized it after the city ran an inspection, giving it a permit to sell the higher-quality medications that had previously only been available to the Sky Floors. Without the fear of arrest hanging over everyone’s head, and with the new medicines, people have been flocking here from all over the Undercity. The shop’s bigger than it used to be, too, thanks to the compensation package that the city gave them for their reconstruction.
It doesn’t fix everything wrong with the system down here, of course—there are still too many others who can’t afford the luxury of healthcare. But at least the memory of her father will b
e preserved here.
Now Pressa looks at me. “You got a haircut,” she replies, running a hand playfully through my newly trimmed locks. “All set to make an impression in the Republic, aren’t you?”
She’s trying her best to cover up the strain in her voice, but I can hear it. It mirrors my own reluctance to leave. I run a hand absently through my curls and try to smile at her. “We’ll see about an impression,” I reply. “They’re starting me as early as next week.”
She shuffles her feet and glances down at the framed f lowers, then back to me. “Are you nervous?”
“After what we went through? Nah, I’m feeling pretty calm.” I hesitate. “I’m going to miss you, though.”
She winces at my words, and it’s all I can do to not wrap my arms around her right now and pull her into a kiss. “You have to leave so soon?”
I nod.
We both fall into an awkward silence. “Thank you,” Pressa finally says. “For putting in a good word for my father’s shop and making sure the community stays intact.”
“What are you going to do here?” I ask her. “Now that you’ve got Marren running the store?”
She shrugs, looking uncertainly around at the Undercity’s streets. “I don’t know. I’ll figure something out,” she answers with a shrug. There is something lost in her gaze. “They said I can apply to the university, even with my Level. They might give me a scholarship. But…”
“But?” I ask.
She looks at me, and then down. “I don’t know.” And in her gaze, I see that same restlessness I’ve always felt, the feeling of not fitting in, the same need to do something bigger, to find myself in this strange world. The same thing that drew us together as friends from the beginning. “I’m ready to leave the Undercity,” she finally says. “I just don’t know where to go next.”
“Come with me,” I say.
The words spill out of my mouth without warning. Pressa looks at me in surprise.
