The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy

by Carol Beth Anderson

  So she did. Within moments, she was sandwiched between the lift door and Trett, her hands tangled in his hair, all attempts at controlling her breathing and heart rate forgotten.

  Since they’d started planning their trip, they’d had to focus night and day on packing, quitting school, and getting their cover story straight. They’d been acting like partners in a business sense, not a romantic one.

  That wasn’t really a new phenomenon. Back home, Ellin and Trett had shared plenty of quick, sweet kisses, but she’d always had a hard time releasing her inhibitions around him. It was one of the drawbacks to being a driven person, she supposed. Her intense focus on the future made it impossible to live in the present. She didn’t like it, but she didn’t know how to change it.

  Tonight, though, she’d careened off her well-worn path, the one where she met goals by following rules. She was standing in a dim building she’d accessed illegally in the middle of the night. The absurdity of the situation drove home the sudden uncertainty of her life.

  So for the first time in months, Ellin let go of her need to know what would happen next. She let herself go in Trett’s arms, drinking him up, convinced there was nothing better than the feel of his mouth on hers. Every part of her skin felt charged with electricity, assuring her that, even without school, she had everything to live for.

  The crazy thing was, Trett was right. Surely making out in the lobby of the Press Office in the middle of the night was forbidden. And that filled her with a befuddling, feverish wildness.

  Then an entirely unwanted thought invaded Ellin’s mind. She pulled her mouth off Trett’s. His lips moved to her neck.

  “Trett?”

  “What is it?” he murmured.

  “Do you think Rona saw this in her prophecy too?”

  Trett lifted his head and laughed, the warm sound echoing in the empty space. “Probably.” His fingertip traced the hollow of her neck, then the folds of her ear. “Does it matter?”

  “I guess not.” But thoughts of Rona had reminded Ellin why they were here. At this crucial moment, making out with Trett seemed both silly and selfish. She reached up and enfolded his hand in hers, pulling it off her ear. With a quick, deep breath, she tried to tame the heat still racing through her. “That kiss was . . . well, I spent all day writing, but I can’t come up with words to describe it.” She laughed softly, then sobered, holding his gaze. “Trett, right now, we can’t afford to do anything but keep our heads down and figure out a way to fight Merak.”

  Trett gave her a tentative smile. “We were keeping our heads down. So to speak.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You know what I mean.”

  Trett stepped away from her. He shoved his hands in his pockets and pressed his lips together. The muscles in his jaw tightened.

  She stood up straighter. “Wait, are you pissed because I stopped kissing you?”

  Trett’s eyes widened, and he pulled his hands from his pockets, holding them up defensively. “No, Ellin—no, don’t ever think that. I told you from the beginning, the second you say stop, I’ll stop. You told me the same.”

  “What is it, then?”

  He shrugged. “It’s fine. Maybe you’re right. But listen, Ellin, I can hardly wrap my mind around the end of the world. I don’t want to think about it all the time.”

  “Do we really have a choice?”

  Trett sighed and looked off to the side. Then he turned back to her, but didn’t meet her eyes. “I guess we should go up.”

  Ellin watched his muscles turn rigid as he shuttered his emotions. Her chest ached in response. She wanted to assure him this wasn’t personal; she was just trying to be rational and responsible. Now wasn’t the time for a heart-to-heart talk, though. They had to get out of this place before they got caught. She pushed the button to open the lift.

  Once inside, she pushed “3” and entered her code. Nervous again, she fumbled, getting the last number wrong. Her second try was successful, and the lift rose.

  It opened onto one large room. It was the size of the Writing Department, but there were only eight workstations. Ellin led Trett out of the lift and into the room. Most of the ceiling was dark, but dim lighting in all four corners gave the room a ghostly glow.

  They sat at a workstation. Just like Ellin’s deskscreen on the floor below, the one in front of her was labeled with the department name and device number: Screening Department 4. “Apparently we’re in the Screening Department, whatever that is,” she said, waving her hand over the screen to wake it up. Another security code prompt popped up. She tried the code Rona had given her. It worked.

  The screen looked mostly like the one she’d used earlier that day, but an unfamiliar icon sat in the center. It read TBS. Ellin clicked it. A neat table filled the screen.

  “To Be Screened,” she read, her voice a whisper. Underneath the heading was a list of news stories. Many of the titles included the word “Merak.” In the second and third columns were publisher names and dates. The earliest date was Cygni 20th. Ellin glanced at the current date in the corner of the screen, confirming that it was the 18th of Cygni.

  “Why are all the dates in the future?” Trett asked.

  “I have no idea.” Ellin clicked on one, and it opened. It was a short article on Merak Technologies’ recent flexscreen software update. She opened another article that detailed a new charity venture, then a third that described a recent stockholder meeting.

  “These are all normal articles, just like the ones we read when we were preparing to come here,” Ellin said.

  “Still, those dates . . .” Trett’s voice trailed off.

  Ellin closed the TBS list and examined the screen. All the icons appeared innocuous. She clicked the one for messages. Ems popped up on the left side of the screen, IDMs on the right. She pulled up the first IDM.

  Trett read the subject line aloud. “Tomorrow’s article on Merak.” He continued with the short message. “Perfect. We appreciate your help on this. My best to your family. -Ev.”

  Ellin navigated to the oldest message in the thread. It was from the same man who’d sent the most recent one. She read it silently.

  Hi, Sheller,

  * * *

  Hope you and your family are well. I reviewed the most recent story Kellum plans to release on Merak’s ventures into solar power.

  * * *

  Mostly it looks great, but it discloses a little more of our proposed timeline than Mr. Merak is comfortable with. It’s too early to know if it’s reasonable, and we wouldn’t want to raise shareholder expectations only to disappoint them in the future.

  * * *

  I trust you can help us with this. My thanks in advance.

  * * *

  Let’s talk soon,

  Evling Rainer

  Ellin read the entire IDM again, out loud this time. “I think this is Evling Rainer’s workstation,” she said.

  Trett nodded. “And this guy Sheller works for Kellum International.” Kellum was one of the largest newsorgs.

  Ellin scrolled down and scanned the rest of the message thread. In it, Sheller agreed to adjust the news story according to Merak’s preferences. Ellin looked at Trett, who was reading the screen, shaking his head.

  Many other messages were similar, with Evling Rainer requesting changes, large and small, to news stories from a large variety of newsorgs and even from the very writing department where Ellin worked. Sometimes he even requested that a story be cancelled altogether. The message recipients always agreed.

  Over half the IDMs were positive. Rainer thanked his contacts for stories that were well-written and, in so many words, gave them permission to publish. In one of these, the newsorg representative’s response caught Ellin’s eye. It read,

  No problem, my friend. Enjoying the new boat. We drink to you every time we sail!

  They looked farther back in the messages, seeking similar words of gratitude, and had no problem finding them. One woman appreciated the fine wine that had shown up on her doorstep
. Another loved her cottage on the sea. A well-known newsorg editor thanked Rainer outright for the monetary gift that had just posted in his account.

  “You’re seeing the same thing I am, right?” Trett asked.

  Ellin nodded. “Merak Technologies is controlling the press.”

  13

  MONDAY, QUARI 29, 6293

  -40 DAYS

  Why am I here?

  Trett stood in line in the dining hall, surrounded by busy interns, waiting to order from the varied dinner menu. Two weeks in, this was one of many routines he’d settled into. I guess I’m just biding my time until the end of the world.

  Merak was still in Therro, so Trett’s position in the man’s office seemed pointless. He’d never expected to personally bring Merak down, anyway. Trett’s main goal on this quest was to support Ellin—and it was impossible to do that when she was constantly busy in the Press Office.

  “Hey.”

  Trett turned toward the voice. Ellin was behind him, grinning.

  “Hi! You’re not staying late in the Press Office?”

  “Not tonight. Let’s grab our food and go to my room. I’ll em Rona and tell her to meet us too.”

  Before long, all three of them were entering Ellin’s room. She closed the door, dropped her food on her desk, and greeted them with a wide smile. “Jovan, my boss, called me into his office today. He loves what I’ve been writing, and he wants me to work on an important article.” She grinned, bouncing on the balls of her feet.

  “An article on what?” Rona asked. “Spit it out.”

  Ellin shot her a brief glare, but then her smile returned. “It’s an in-depth feature on the most recent scientific findings in Therro.”

  Trett’s mouth broadened into a smile. “That’s great!”

  “A feature on Therro,” Rona said. “That’s a step in the right direction.”

  Ellin nodded. “I’ve started looking through all the information they sent me, and it’s overwhelming. Way more than we’ve been reading in the media.” She pulled her flex off her arm and sat at her desk. “I’ve gotta get some more work done tonight.”

  FRIDAY, CYON 1, 6293

  -36 DAYS

  “Ellin?”

  Ellin looked up. From across the dinner table, Trett was staring at her, one eyebrow raised.

  Jovan had forced her to leave at 5:30 since it was Friday night. She’d used her flex throughout dinner, trying to reach a good stopping point on her research. “How long have you been trying to get my attention?” she asked with a strained smile.

  “I said your name three times.”

  Ellin set her flex down and rubbed both her eyes. “I’m so sorry, Trett. I’ve been reading the same paragraph over and over. My brain is mush after all the research this week, and I’m not even close to ready to write my article.” She reached out, and he put his hand in hers. “I don’t want to ignore you, you know. It’s just”—she shook her head helplessly—“every day counts. Every minute counts.”

  His expression softened. “I know, but you said it yourself, your brain is mush. Come outside with me. Rona’s already there. I have a surprise for you.”

  They put their dishes in the cleaning chute and exited, then walked around to the back of the building. Rona was waiting there next to two hovs, one single and one double.

  Ellin gave Trett a questioning look.

  “The Lanterns are streaming a live show tonight at the Threed theater in the city,” he said. “I got tickets and asked Rona to rent the hovs.”

  Ellin and Trett didn’t always have the same taste in music, but The Lanterns were the one band they both loved. They’d never had a chance to see them live, but they caught streaming shows as often as they could.

  “That sounds amazing,” Ellin said. And it did. Nothing would be better than letting music wash over her while she danced or cuddled with Trett in a quiet corner. The problem was, every time she looked at her flex, she saw the countdown. They had thirty-six days left. Free time was a luxury they couldn’t afford. She pressed her lips together and hesitantly met Trett’s gaze. “I can’t,” she said quietly.

  Trett turned to look toward the border of Merak’s complex. The tall, metal fence was visible in the distance. “You know,” he said, “you’re allowed to leave this place. Give your mind some time to recharge.”

  A helpless sigh left her mouth. “I wish I could. Really, I do, Trett; you have no idea.”

  “Ellin.” Impatience was thick in Rona’s voice. “You’re not trying to graduate number one in your class anymore. Take a night off.”

  Ellin was short on sleep and had skipped more meals than she cared to count that week. If there was ever a time she could have used some empathy from her sister, this was it. “One night off, great idea,” she snapped. “Can you call whoever’s scheduling the apocalypse and ask them to postpone it a day or two for me?”

  Rona’s expression turned intense. “Is what you’re researching that important?”

  “I think it might be.”

  “Then we’ll stay here and help you.”

  In the silence that followed, Trett released a long breath. “I have a better idea. Rona, you haven’t had any visions in the last week or so. Could it be you’re too adapted to your new routine?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Why don’t you go to the show just to shake up your schedule? Maybe it’ll lead to a vision or two. I’ll stay here and help Ellin.”

  Rona arched an eyebrow. “Will you really get any research done?”

  Trett chuckled. “Ellin’s focus is immutable.”

  Ellin shrugged, giving him a regretful smile.

  “Are you still listening?” Ellin waved her hand in front of Trett’s face. They were sitting next to each other on her bed.

  He blinked. “Yes, I just—I didn’t realize we were enrolling in a crash course in university-level chemistry.”

  She set aside her flex, which she’d been reading aloud from. “Do you see why my research is taking so long? All this information was written by experts who can’t write in a way normal people understand. It’s infuriating!”

  Trett raised his eyebrows. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?” She laughed.

  Trett leaned over and ran his thumb across her smiling lips. “Maybe it wouldn’t be obvious to anyone else, but I know you. Now take me through the last minute or two of what you were telling me.”

  She flashed him a grateful smile and picked up her flex. “Actually, I came across a video I think will help us both understand it better.” She found the video and tapped the screen to play it.

  “In the past,” the video’s baritone narrator began, “radiation therapy nearly always came with unfortunate side effects.” Photos faded in and out: blistered skin, a woman holding her stomach, and a man who was clearly exhausted.

  “He looks like me,” Trett said, and they both laughed.

  “A century ago, researchers discovered how to eliminate these side effects,” the narrator continued. “We entered the modern era of beneficial radiation.” He described how this radiation was used not only to fight cancer, but also to destroy illness-causing microbes and to heal cuts and burns.

  When the video was over, Trett and Ellin went back to their research, sharing interesting findings with each other. By midnight, they had a better grasp on the science behind beneficial radiation. Neither of them could keep their eyes open, so Trett left for his room, and Ellin fell into bed.

  The next morning, she knocked on his door before the sun rose.

  He opened the door and rubbed his eyes. “Really, Ellin?”

  She smiled brightly, entered the room, and turned on his wallscreen. “Today,” she said, “we get to analyze data from the Cellerin Project.”

  He went back to his bed and lay down. “Yippee.”

  SUNDAY, CYON 3, 6293

  -34 DAYS

  “This coffee sucks,” Rona said.

  Ellin glanced at her sis
ter. “That’s because it’s mine from yesterday.”

  Rona frowned into the cup. “Oh.”

  I should be laughing at that, Ellin thought. After researching all weekend, with limited sleep and short bathroom and meal breaks, none of them were in the mood for humor.

  Over the last two days, the immense responsibility to stop Rona’s prophecy had filled Ellin with an anxiety so dense, she felt she’d physically burst. She’d taken a couple of walks with Trett, but the warm, desert air hadn’t helped a bit. Desperately, she searched for information that would convince the world of the dangers of the Cellerin Project.

  It was Sunday night, and they were in Rona’s room, which still smelled like the sandwiches they’d picked up from the dining hall for dinner. They’d all become snippy with each other, even good-natured Trett.

  Ellin scanned the screen of her flex, then examined it more closely. Her eyes widened. “Guys—I’ve got something.” Trett and Rona sat up straight as Ellin sent the pictures from her flex to the wallscreen.

  “What are we looking at?” Trett asked.

  Ellin gestured to the screen. “These graphs represent particles emitted by three different radioactive isotopes. See this first one? It’s the same radiation they probably used last time one of us went to a clinic to get a cut or burn healed. Next, we’ve got radiation from whatever’s inside that cave at the Cellerin site. The last one is from an isotope a scientist generated sixty years ago.”

  She stared at Trett and Rona, awaiting a response.

  “The second one—that’s from the Cellerin Project?” Rona asked.

  “Yes.”

  “It kind of looks like the third one.”

  “Exactly; they’re very similar!” Ellin felt a tingle of excitement rejuvenating her sluggish body. “Let me show you something else.” She pulled up an obituary of a friendly-looking man.