by Ramona Finn
“What’s he talking about?” Ona’s eyes had gone round. “What does he mean, more of you now than ever before?”
“How should I know?” I shrugged off Ona’s question, but inside, I’d gone cold. The mine would be ready soon. They’d need bodies to work it and guard it from the Outside—a new class of Decemite, more disposable than ever. How many would last a year, let alone five or ten?
“But we’re gathered today to honor three of your number—three heroes, three trailblazers—who’ve laid the foundation for a brighter future for us all.” Prium gestured at the screen, and the picture split in two. I saw my own face, and Ona’s, peeping out at the crowd. Lock stood on the other side, jaw hanging open. He snapped to attention when his picture appeared, staring straight into the camera. Laughter rose all around us, and his cheeks went bright red.
“Why don’t you join me, you three?” Prium held out his hands, as though to welcome us, and someone nudged me from behind. A wave of applause greeted me as I stumbled into the light. Ona trailed after me, hand limp in mine. Her eyes darted to the screen, and she hunched up her shoulders.
“Do I always look like that? All weird and bumpy?” She touched her cheek and frowned.
“Of course not. Don’t—”
“Welcome.” Prium reached for my hand. His nails were gold and tipped with diamonds today. I didn’t want to touch him, but he was parked on the steps, blocking my way. I endured the cold brush of skin as he “helped” me up.
“Myla and Ona Hyde,” he said, speaking over our heads to address the crowd. “And you all know Lock Powell, veteran of more than a thousand missions. The gretha harvested by Mr. Powell alone could keep the Dome over our heads for nearly a decade.” Prium basked in the applause that followed, leaning back slightly, eyes narrowed with pleasure. Lock lowered his head like he wanted to hide.
“Since the dawn of time, earth and sky have thrived in harmony—the sun warming the earth and the earth yielding life.” Prium’s monologue took on a hypnotic cadence. He swayed as he spoke, and the crowd swayed with him, back and forth, unblinking. “Our Echelon exists on the same principle, two halves of a whole, dependent on each other. The Dirt is our soil, the earth that sustains us. Sky is our sun, our guiding light, the greatest minds in Echelon working tirelessly toward a bright tomorrow.”
I bit my lip to hold back a scowl. I couldn’t show my disgust at his falseness, his hypocrisy. Not here, where everyone was watching. But I couldn’t force a smile. Not for this pompous fraud, spouting fine words and saying nothing at all. I glanced at Ona, hoping that she’d seen through him too, but she was glowing, practically vibrating where she stood. Lock was staring at his boots.
“Today, we honor three children who exemplify the best of Dirt and Sky—three children who, through their sacrifice, have ushered in a new age of prosperity for us all. Three children—”
I stood there, stone-faced, drowning in applause. I couldn’t breathe. Prium was clapping with the audience, slow, dry slaps popping through his mic. Movement caught my eye, and I saw Mom and Dad scurrying onstage, and Lock’s entire family, down to his tiniest cousin. They gathered around us, and I understood this was it.
“Come visit when you can,” said Mom. She hugged me first, then Ona, crushing us to her chest. Over her shoulder, I spied Lock’s mom, shell-brittle, clinging to his shirt. Then Dad had my hands, and he was pulling me toward him. For one frenzied moment, I thought he meant to drag me offstage, run with me and keep running, set me free somehow. Instead he hugged me, hot breath on my neck.
“You listen to your mother. We’re keeping your beds, your seats at our table. We’ll expect you for dinner at least once a week.”
I pulled back and saw Dad’s eyes were wet. He still had my hands, clutched tight to his chest.
“We’ll come,” I said, but his expression stayed desolate. He didn’t expect to see us ever again. I could see it in his eyes, in those tears that never fell.
“Be happy.” He dropped my hands, at last, and the elevator yawned open. I didn’t want to get on, but the time for second thoughts had passed. A pair of guards materialized, one at each of my elbows, and I didn’t doubt they’d drag me, if need be. I opted to go with dignity, joining Ona and Lock. Prium got on with us, and the gate rattled shut behind him. He pressed his palm to a reader and a metal pane slid back, revealing a keyhole beneath. He took a key from his pocket and turned it, and the elevator began to move. I watched the crowd dwindle below me, and the market square, all the scenes of my childhood sinking out of reach.
“This is it,” said Ona. Her knuckles brushed mine. “Our reward. Our new life.”
One of our guards made a strangled sound. Ona didn’t seem to notice. Prium stepped forward as we reached our destination. A faint green light passed over him, and I heard a beep. The gate slid open, then a steel portcullis beyond. We passed through a decontamination chamber, into a long, featureless corridor. It reminded me of the tunnel leading Outside. The gate was shut at the far end, a line of bright light slicing in along the bottom.
“Well,” said Prium, “here we are.” He waved the guards back and set out toward the light. His heels clicked on the concrete, marking a slow, measured beat. He stopped abruptly, halfway down, as though he’d forgotten something important. “Before I turn you three loose, there is one more bandage to rip off. I find it’s best to do this quickly, so we can put it behind us and move on.” He turned to face us, hands clasped behind his back. Lock froze in place, eyes wide with alarm.
“Sky is a safe haven,” said Prium. “Our citizens enjoy a life free of violence, free of fear, free of disease. Certain Dirt-borne ailments—what you call the Undercrud, in particular—don’t exist above ground. And the reason they don’t is that—”
“No.” Lock clapped his hand to his mouth, shook his head from side to side. Prium showed him a sad smile.
“It seems you’ve guessed. Travel between Dirt and Sky is permitted only as necessary, and for you, it won’t be needed.”
Ona made a squawking sound. I’d have laughed, but my heart was in pieces, shattered at my feet.
“That can’t be true.” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “What about our supervisors? The watch? The doctors? They’re all Lofties, and—”
“And they live in the quarantine districts, and you’ll live in the Center.”
“So, why can’t we live in the quarantine district, too? Why can’t we—”
Prium held up his hands, and Ona fell silent. Lock hadn’t said a word since his initial outburst. He stood like a statue, hand pressed to his mouth.
“Once upon a time, that would have been the norm,” said Prium. “Our first Decemites had that choice, but it wasn’t to their benefit. They never found their footing. They hung between our two worlds, outsiders in both, never happy in either.” He stepped forward, arms extended. “It seems cruel, I know, cutting you off from all you’ve known. But it isn’t forever. If, after two years, you find you still miss your homes, you’re free to move to a quarantine district.”
“Two years.” Ona’s words came out hollow, and she swayed on her feet. “They’ll hate us by then. They’ll think we forgot them.”
“They won’t think that, I assure you.” Prium laid his hand on his heart. “Family forgives, and yours will too.”
“Mom won’t hold on that long.” Lock’s words came out muffled, stifled between his fingers. He looked like he might throw up.
“Come,” said Prium. “You’ve all had a shock, but it’s a beautiful day. Your families are celebrating in the Stars—celebrating your new beginnings. They’d want you to enjoy this, to soak it all in. Live every moment for all of them.”
I thought Lock might punch him, then. His shoulders went tense, and he growled deep in his throat. He wiped his face instead and sucked in a deep breath. Ona was pinching herself, like she thought she might be dreaming.
“Welcome to Sky,” said Prium, and the gate rattled up on its tracks. He strode into the glare and
we followed, leaving everything behind.
Chapter Nine
My sunblindness cleared slowly, like mist burning away. The towers emerged first, silver up close, greenery cascading from every balcony. A web of light rails wended between them, so ethereal I took them for washing lines till I saw a train zip past. It seemed to hover above the tracks, like a dragonfly over a pond. I saw a great wall of granite ten storeys tall, with a waterfall rushing down it. A river flowed through the city from its base, white rapids glinting in the sun. I heard a strange sound and glanced to my right, and I saw a huge cage, filled with—
“Birds!” I darted toward them with arms outstretched. Prium pulled me back, nails scoring my arm.
“Careful,” he said. “You’ll want to stay off the tracks.”
I looked down and saw where the platform dropped off. One of the birds screamed at me and flapped its messy wings. It was black and gray all over, except its shoulders, which were red. It looked angry, I thought, the way it stamped its feet.
“Why are they in cages?”
“We clip all their wings,” came a new voice, light and feminine. I turned to find a girl about my age draped in some fabric that fluttered as she moved. “They can’t see the Dome,” she said. “They fly straight through, and—” She clutched at her throat, miming suffocation. “I’m Eliminah, your Decemite liaison. You’ll call me Elli, though. All my friends do.”
I frowned reflexively. I wasn’t sure I wanted Elli-whoever for a friend. I certainly didn’t want her just deciding we were friends, pushing into our lives out of nowhere.
Ona bowed, a little stiffly. “I’m Ona,” she said. “My sister’s Myla, and that’s Lock.”
“A pleasure,” said Lock, but he was staring straight past her, at the waterfall. He looked gray in the sunlight, charcoal hair and ashen eyes, skin pallid from his time in the pit. He blinked as a train rushed into the station, cutting off his line of sight.
“That’s us,” said Elli, and she ushered us on board, all but Prium, who’d retreated to the tunnel. Ona ran straight for the far window and pressed her hands to the glass.
“Look how high we are!” She beckoned me over, her shock apparently forgotten. “You can see the whole city. Oh!—what’s that?”
I peered where she was pointing and spotted a funny round building, striped red and gold, and peaked at the top. Strange creatures cavorted around it, tethered to poles. I’d seen something like it once on an old postcard.
“It’s a mill,” I said. “Those animals turn the wheel, and it grinds grain for bread.”
Elli laughed, and I hated her for it. “It’s a carousel,” she said. “They’re not real horses, see? They’re just wooden ones on sticks. It’s mostly for kids, but you can ride it if you want.”
“I’ll pass,” said Lock. He gripped the seat in front of him. “Is it far, where we’re headed?”
“Not at all.” Elli pointed past the waterfall, where a green hill nestled in a river bend. “Five minutes, tops. If you get dizzy, keep breathing. You’ll be fine.”
Lock didn’t look convinced, but his chest rose and fell as he followed her directions. I remembered he got motion sick and moved to distract him.
“Did you see all that water?” I pointed below, where the rapids stilled to blue. “I bet they do have huge tubs up here. Or you could swim in the river.”
Lock managed a chuckle. “And you got your birds and your greenery. I never thought it’d be so bright. So full of stuff. Looking in from outside, it’s all hazy. You can’t see—”
“I’ve come bearing gifts.” Elli plopped down in front of us and thrust a box into my hands. She passed Lock one as well, and one to Ona. “These are your phones,” she said. “You’re lucky; this model’s brand new. Most folks don’t have them yet, but look…” She fished hers from her purse—a sleek, translucent oblong, wafer-thin. She slapped it against her wrist, and it curled around her like a bracelet.
“So it’s jewelry?” Ona scrabbled at her box. It was wrapped in clear, crackly film, slippery to the touch. “I can’t get this open.”
“You’ll want to do that at home.” Elli glanced at her own phone, which had begun to chirp. “Go through the instructions, read up on all the features. And, no, it’s not just jewelry. It’s like a radio, but smaller, and you can play games on it, read books—”
“On this?” Lock turned his box over in his hands. “I can do all that on this?”
“All that and more.” Elli got to her feet as our train swung round a curve. I gasped in spite of myself. I didn’t want to enjoy this, but I felt my pulse racing, excitement coiling in my guts. The hillside was wild up close and scattered with flowers I couldn’t name, white ones and blue ones, tall pink and purple ones that bristled like spears. Elegant white houses marched up the slope, boasting huge windows that winked cerulean under the sky. Pebbled paths wound between them, converging on a wide central stroll.
“So many colors.” Ona’s voice had gone dreamy. “I want a dress just like that.”
“You can have one,” said Elli. “Just snap a pic on your phone and upload it to your tailor. Remind me later and I’ll show you.”
I pulled a face, not bothering to hide it. I understood maybe half of what Elli was saying, but it wasn’t the strangeness of her words that had my back up. It was her relentless good cheer, her endless generosity. Her red lips didn’t move without pushing out some fresh promise, each more unfathomable than the last. Of course you can wear the hillside. Ride the carousel. Name a dream, I’ll make it true.
“And here we are.” The doors slid open and Elli flitted outside. Ona hurried after her, clutching the box with her new phone to her chest. I stood where I was, gaping blankly. A strange smell had come in with the outside air, something rich and living. It wasn’t unpleasant or overly strong, but it stirred something in me, like a memory buried deep. I inhaled and exhaled, sniffed furiously.
“Myla? Over here.” Elli snapped her fingers. I saw Lock had squeezed past me, made his way off the train. I followed in a daze.
“What’s that smell?”
“What smell?” Elli wrinkled her nose. “I don’t smell anything.”
I stared, uncomprehending. “You don’t smell that? Like... dirt, only sweet, and something green?”
“Oh. That’d be lupins, I guess, and fresh-cut grass. Don’t worry. They can’t hurt you.” She turned and headed up the path, Ona in tow. Lock nudged me and rolled his eyes.
“It is a weird smell,” he said. “I don’t know whether to sneeze or drop down and roll in it.”
I barked laughter, so loud Elli jumped. Lock grinned back at me, and I felt a little better. We marched up a rustic stone staircase to a house that seemed all windows, glass stacked five floors high. I spotted a roof garden up top and a birdcage in the atrium. Elli lifted her phone, and the door slid open.
“Your phones’ll do the same, once you’ve got them set up. But if you ever run out of batteries, there’s a key under the mat.” She strode past the birdcage toward the stairs. Her dress trailed behind her, and I noticed it was two dresses, one flimsy and translucent and a heavier one underneath, printed with flowers and feathers. I wondered if she’d uploaded that to her tailor, maybe plucked a few birds to get the details just right. “Ground floor’s your party room, your swimming pool, your shared space for the building. Your personal residence is on five. You’ll find your own kitchen, your own rec room, a bedroom for each of you. I’ve left you each a few outfits, styles I thought you’d like, but I’ll take you shopping in a day or two, once you’ve settled in.”
“What about the other floors?” I squinted up the stairwell, trying to see.
“All separate residences,” said Elli. “We try to group friends together, so you three get your own floor.”
“Who else is here?” Lock’s expression turned eager. “Anyone I’d know?”
Elli’s smile widened. “I think so. The house is a bit on the empty side at the moment, what with us not having man
y Ascensions lately and older residents moving out, but Jack’s here, and Sonia. Come on. We’ll say hello.”
We found the two Decemites on the third floor balcony, stretched out on deckchairs and playing with their phones. Jack jumped up when he saw us and caught Lock in a crushing embrace.
“I knew you’d make it.” He thumped Lock on the back and hugged him again. “I kept saying, just wait. It’ll be Lock, it’ll be Samson, and we’ll get this party started. Tell him, Sonia. Did I call it, or what?”
Sonia flapped her hand at us, not looking up from her phone.
“Don’t mind her,” said Jack. “There’s this new game, Tangerine Rampage. She’s obsessed.” He spotted me and Ona, and his brow knit in puzzlement. “Who are these two? No Samson?”
“I’m Ona.” She jerked her thumb at me. “She’s Myla. My sister.”
“Two Decemites from the same family? How’d that happen?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but Jack was full of questions.
“How haven’t we met? Shouldn’t I have trained you two?” He turned to Ona, eyes round with surprise. “Not to be rude or anything, but you look thirteen.”
“I’m fifteen,” said Ona. “I got early Ascension. I found how they mine rigur, so—”
“Early Ascension?” Jack looked bewildered, then almost offended. Then the clouds cleared, and he clapped Ona on the shoulder. “Well, whatever. You earned it, right? It’ll be fun, just the five of us. I’ll teach you air hockey. We’ll have ourselves a tournament.”
Sonia made a tutting sound. She got up and slunk past us, then disappeared into her room without a word. Lock’s brows went up.
“Did we say something wrong?”
“Nah. That’s just Sonia. Though, lately—”
“I hate to interrupt your reunion, but we’re about to be late.” Elli hustled us back the way we’d come, arms out to her sides to keep us in line. “The two of you have an appointment,” she said, waggling a finger at Lock and Ona. “A quick update for your nanobots, then you’re free to explore. Go ahead and wash up, slip into some fresh clothes, and I’ll be back in an hour. Myla—if you have a moment?”
