by Rebecca Rode
Her wristband began to vibrate. It was nearly time for dinner.
Just consider it. Bianca’s last words to her seemed like centuries ago. Dear Bianca. What did she think had happened to Ember? Was her friend caring for Dai in her absence, or was Mimi keeping her so busy she didn’t even know Ember was gone? Had anyone thought to care for Dai, or did they rejoice at the thought of ridding themselves of the outsider at last?
You will not die, she told him inwardly. Not yet, not now. I will find a way to get back to you, and we’ll move on together like you wanted.
“I’ll walk you to the cafeteria,” Stefan said, then hesitated. “Look, there’s one last thing you should know. I’m going to give you a little more space once testing starts. I feel responsible for you being here, but, well, there are a lot of politics with this group. Everyone wants to graduate, so they’ll do whatever it takes to beat out the others.” He glanced at the screen, then down at the floor. “I come from a high family. That means the testers watch me more closely than most. If they think I’m helping you, it’ll come back to hurt us both.”
She absorbed his words. He hadn’t mentioned Eris’s name, but he wasn’t fooling Ember as to his plea for space—he had a girlfriend, friends, and a plan. He didn’t want Ember to get in the way.
It shouldn’t bother her. She didn’t care who he dated, because she’d be gone soon.
The vision was wrong. She would choose who she loved, and this man wasn’t it.
“Then may the stars give you everything you desire.” She turned and strode down the hallway, leaving him standing in the theater alone.
10
The cafeteria was one of the biggest rooms she’d ever seen in her life and was filled with ridiculously long tables. Stefan entered just after her, waved good-bye, and went to join his friends again. Ember filled her tray with the safest-looking food she could find. It smelled like some kind of mashed vegetable. She skipped over the meat and grabbed a water packet, then looked for an empty table.
A figure pulled up from a run at the doorway, breathing hard. Mar. The girl hesitated, then carefully tiptoed inside as if the doorway was some kind of dangerous, invisible border. When she saw Ember, her eyes narrowed.
Stars. She’d forgotten entirely about Mar.
Mar retrieved her tray, made her way to Ember, and slapped the metal tray down on the table. “Well?”
“Well what?”
“What happened to you? One second you were behind me, and then you disappeared. I thought you were lost in the city. I searched for another hour and a half.”
Ember flinched. “Sorry. The pharmacist asked me to do a reading on her husband.”
“That’s it? What kind of excuse is that?”
“He was dying.”
“We’re all dying eventually. That’s no excuse to blow off your friends.” She plopped herself down on the bench across from Ember, scowling.
It was exactly what Bianca would have said. She was liking this girl more all the time. “You’re right, it was very rude of me. I apologize.”
“Well, next time tell me what’s going on. I was really looking forward to that VR game.” She frowned at the yellow mush on Ember’s tray. “No meat, huh? I didn’t take you for a vegetarian.”
“I couldn’t tell what it was.”
She grimaced. “I know what you mean. But trust me, sometimes it’s better not to know.”
“It’s not that.”
Mar cocked her head. “Ah. It’s a gypsy thing?”
“Roma, and yes. We don’t eat meat that’s . . .” She wasn’t sure how to describe it. “Unclean.”
Mar took a bite and chewed it thoughtfully. “I can respect that. What Earth animals are unclean?”
“Cats. Dogs, sometimes. Any animal that, you know, licks themselves.”
“Well, I can guarantee none of this meat is a domesticated pet. We don’t have any of those here. Most likely lamb, pennitt, or beef-flavored synthetic material. Sometimes they serve real chicken here, though. I hear the station has a good-sized poultry wing.”
“Chickens are okay.” She swallowed at the thought of her hens, probably starving as well. Or being eaten by her neighbors in her absence.
Mar shrugged and stabbed at her “synthetic material.” “I know the Empire doesn’t like differences, but I do. I think it’s fascinating how people live. And my people have their own quirks.” She looked up as if realizing Ember hadn’t touched her food. “Do you need a fork?”
Ember shook her head. She’d grown too comfortable here with the gadje, and her upbringing was feeling more strange the longer she stayed. She’d obeyed the Empire’s strict rules so far. She’d abandoned her beloved skirt and put on the horrid, overexposing trousers. But this was one thing she couldn’t compromise on. Eating with utensils other gadje had used, placing them in her mouth, inside her body? She couldn’t go that far.
She gave her tray a shake. The vegetable blob jiggled. She tilted it sideways, but the mass didn’t slide at all. With a sigh, she scooped a bit into her hand and brought to her mouth.
Ugh. Too sweet. She forced the bite down and made a face.
As she ate, she recognized several of the languages being whispered around her, including Carbona and the more familiar Naravit’z, both languages her father had taught her. Although whenever a soldier walked by, they switched to Common. Most wore mint-green uniforms. Station workers, probably.
But something seemed strange about all this, something Ember couldn’t put her finger on. It took her several minutes of watching the crowd before she realized what it was.
No children.
Her community was filled with them. They played and danced in the streets, shouting and screaming. Even the adults were loud. Each couple had several children, some as many as ten or twelve. Ember’s only-child status was unusual, but her mother had had a medical condition that had prevented other births. The absence here felt like a gaping hole. Were there really no children on this station anywhere? What did parents do with their offspring, send them away or leave them behind?
Maybe some of these people didn’t have children at all. Perhaps they were unmarried, alone. Like her. Maybe that was why they were here.
Everything about this place was unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Gone were the chickens underfoot, the lines filled with drying laundry, the smoke. Roma traveling about in their long skirts and braids. Her neighbors’ nods as they walked by, however untrusting they were of Ember. Mothers calling for their children. Ember swallowed back the emotion closing her throat and swore she would find a way off this station once and for all.
“Look at your gypsy girl, Stefan,” Eris called out from the other table, where the two sat side by side. “I told you they eat like dogs.”
Stefan eyed Ember’s fingers in confusion, but he recovered quickly. “And some people eat with sticks. Most of the people on my home planet drink their food from a bowl.”
“And then there’s ocean girl over there,” Eris continued, completely ignoring Stefan’s comment, “who can’t handle walking into a room.” She stood and wrapped her arms around herself. “Oh no,” she said a mocking voice, “I have to pass through a doorway. Whatever shall I do?” She pretended to stick her toe over an invisible line, slowly and with agonizing care.
The others at their table laughed, except for Stefan, whose eyes blazed with disapproval. Mar simply poked at her food, but her cheeks had gone a deep crimson.
“Neither one will last long here,” Eris said as she seated herself again. “I just don’t understand why we had to travel so far out of our way just to investigate a tip that turned out to be a filthy gypsy girl. And a door-fearing Olvenack? Please. We haven’t had an Olvenack flicker for a reason. Sometimes I wonder who makes these decisions.” She snickered and tossed her hair.
“Eris,” Stefan said in a warning tone.
Ember gripped the fabric where her skirt should be. Commander Kane had been investigating a tip? But who had told him? Dai was th
e only one who knew about her gift, and he would never have spread that around. She hadn’t even known she was a flicker herself until the shuttle.
“Earth is highly overrated,” Eris continued. “I can see why humans left it behind. All that remains are the leftovers—the lazy, filthy trash nobody else wants. I don’t get why they’re even part of the Empire.”
“Eris,” Stefan snapped. “That’s enough.”
Ember felt anger hit her square in the stomach. She’d heard all these things before, but she wasn’t in the mood today. She turned to face Eris and shot her a smoldering look. “Your great-grandparents gave us an entire planet so they could go live on a floating chunk of metal, Eris. Now we charge them to come back and visit the beach that used to be theirs. So who are the smart ones?”
“Your beach isn’t that great,” she snapped back, although her cheeks were pink now. “The water is too murky.”
“Funny, you seemed perfectly fine with it the other day. I bet you didn’t go in the water once. Do you even know how to swim?”
Eris’s blush was a furious red now. She placed a dainty forkful of food into her mouth and tossed her hair if she hadn’t heard. Stefan quickly changed the subject.
Ember turned back to her food, feeling her anger drain away. She didn’t care what Eris said or did. Or Stefan either, for that matter. She finished off her meal and cleaned her hands on a napkin. Mar didn’t say a word. She simply continued to pick at her food.
“Don’t let Eris get to you,” Ember finally said. “I’ve seen worse.”
Mar sighed. “But she’s right. There’s a reason my people don’t pass testing, let alone training. They see us differently.” She looked up. “On my planet, we don’t have doors. They’re dangerous.”
“How’s that?”
“Our air is different. It reacts strangely to carbon dioxide, sometimes in poisonous ways. If a room is closed off with a person inside for too long, that person will die. And if you step inside right after the door opens—” She shuddered. “Hence, no doors. We don’t even use walls, really. Just screens. Our homes are as open to the outdoors as you can get. I know it looks funny to everyone else, but I’ve just learned to be careful when I’m crossing rooms.”
Ember was nodding. It made complete sense.
“Plus, I think the officers don’t like us much,” Mar whispered. “The last two Olvenacks, a twin sister and brother, sent word back to their family last year that they’d failed testing and would be sent home. But they never made it. It’s like they just disappeared.”
Stars. A tightness clutched at Ember’s gut. “Is that what happens to those who fail?”
“Seems to be. The Empire makes it sound like they’re too ashamed to return, but I’ve never heard of a failed flicker coming home. Ever.” Her eyes bored into Ember’s. “I’m terrified I’ll end up just like them.”
“Maybe they were having too much fun traveling and built new lives elsewhere,” Ember offered, suddenly feeling a bit dizzy. She was determined to fail testing. Did that mean they’d make her disappear too? A week ago she would have doubted the theory, but having been kidnapped from her own home, she fully believed it was possible.
She’d just have to fail and make sure they sent her home. There was too much at stake.
Mar was still picking at her food.
Ember brushed the thoughts away and forced some cheerfulness into her voice. “If being a flicker is what you want, I’m sure you’ll accomplish it. Shall we go find our quarters?”
“Absolutely.” Mar stood and marched out with Ember, briefly pausing at the transition from cafeteria to corridor. As Ember gave the cafeteria one last look, she noticed Stefan watching her.
Ember’s room wasn’t too difficult to find. Mar’s quarters were just across the corridor and three doors down. The girl gave her a friendly wave and went inside. By the smile on her face, Ember suspected she’d already put Eris’s mocking behind her. Or maybe she was great at pretending.
The door to Ember’s quarters whooshed open as she approached. Probably responsive to her wristband. She stepped inside, curious to see what Talon’s gushing had been about.
The room was smaller than her bedroom at home, but the ceiling stood taller. A bed sat against the left wall and a desk in the other corner. Her mind registered the furniture with a single glance. All Empire-made, a hard plastic. An open door next to the desk revealed an automatic bucket—er, bathroom—much like the one on the shuttle and a tiny shower. But what really caught her attention was the window on the far wall.
She found herself walking toward it, mesmerized, as the door closed behind her. Instead of the dull-gray atmosphere she’d seen before, a glorious array of stars littered a black sky. Two satellites orbited in the distance like bright, moving stars.
Ember had seen the night sky many times on Earth, but she’d never seen it from space. Even the tiny window on the shuttle hadn’t prepared her for this. She’d never felt so small, so utterly and completely alone.
When a tiny beep sounded from the desk, she tore herself away from the window and made her way over. A red light flashed on the desk’s black surface. She tapped it, and an automated voice said, “Good evening, gypsy. What sounds would you like to play tonight as you sleep?”
Gypsy? Did they even care what her name was? Pushing away her irritation, she scanned the options. Instrumental music. Hard music. Beach waves. Crickets and forest.
She tapped the one that said “Rural” and was immediately comforted by the soft sound of clucking chickens. There were cows in the background instead of goats, but it was close enough.
A nice room, Ember admitted to herself. It had to be some kind of manipulation, a sample of the lavish lifestyle that awaited them if they succeeded in moving on to training. She threw herself onto the bed. For a military bed, it was surprisingly soft. Too soft. Her own mattress was made of straw and bits of cloth. All the gadje-made mattresses from before the exodus had rotted long ago.
She searched the room for cameras and found none. Eventually Ember yawned, feeling the day’s events quickly catching up to her. Maybe she’d make it an early night.
“Lights,” she said. The lights immediately clicked off. At least that kind of tech made sense.
A dull light radiated from the thousands of stars out her window. One of them, so far from here, was her home.
Tomorrow she would prove she didn’t belong here. That meant failing whatever test they had planned in the morning. The Empire would send her home then. She’d make sure of it.
Ember removed her jacket and pulled a blanket over herself, letting exhaustion overcome her at last.
11
Flicker testing, phase one,” an automated voice said. “Deck 14, room B72. You are due to arrive in ten minutes.” A pause, then it started over again. “Flicker testing, phase one . . .”
“Stop it,” Ember groaned at the voice. There had to be a speaker in the wall somewhere next to her head for it to be this loud.
“Request denied. Deck 14, room B72. You are due to arrive—”
“Shut up.”
“Request denied. Flicker testing, phase one.” The voice was even louder now. She could make out the clucking of chickens and a sheep bleating. Had those sounds been going all night?
With a sigh, Ember swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood on the cold floor. “There. Happy now?”
“Please confirm acknowledgment. Flicker testing, phase one—”
“Message confirmed!”
A pause. “Understood. Have a good day, gypsy.”
She swore. “It’s Ember.”
“Distinction noted.” The room went silent, including the sheep and cow noises.
Ember had never understood the desire to replace a human being with artificial intelligence. Didn’t that make a person irrelevant? Some looked down upon Ember and her profession, but it made her who she was. It made her valuable in some small way. She couldn’t imagine designing a machine just to do readings
on customers. Even if the robot somehow succeeded, what would she do in the meantime?
She turned to the window, expecting to see early morning sunlight. Instead she saw a solid wall of black with a few bright stars sprinkled in. On Earth, the sun had greeted her with its warmth in the morning. She’d basked in its comforting heat as the day went on. Even during summer months, it was the sun that kept their crop buildings running and their tourists coming. Waking to darkness left a pang of loneliness in her soul. Yet another thing her robot alarm clock couldn’t understand.
“Time?” she asked the computer.
“0751, Gypsy Ember.”
“Don’t call me—” she began, then stopped. Nine minutes until phase-one flicker testing. The other flickers would be on their way there now, frantically trying to be on time. But that wasn’t Ember. She was Roma, and she didn’t belong here. Maybe it was time to drive that point home.
It was time for a little test of her own.
She slid her jacket on, wishing she had another outfit—anything besides this awful pair of trousers—and ran a hand through her hair. No time for brushing. Her stomach grumbled. Last night’s dinner hadn’t lasted her long. She’d have to figure out what some of these foods were. It wasn’t like she could survive on vegetable mush forever.
She stepped out of her room to chaos. They’d put all the flickers together, it seemed, and she wasn’t the only one running late. Several others in black jackets sprinted past her to the right, muttering curses under their breath. A bleary-eyed girl stumbled down the corridor, holding tightly to the rail along the wall. Eris. The girl threw her a pain-filled glance, then winced at the light and squeezed her eyes shut with a groan.
Late night at the rec deck, princess? Ember smirked, then remembered Eris had probably been with Stefan. Was Stefan this out of it too? No, he was too smart for that. He was probably there already, prepared to represent his family like a good son.
Ember took her time following them. The last one disappeared behind a corner, but still Ember took slow, lingering steps. She couldn’t wait to see Commander Kane’s face when she failed the program before it had even begun.
