“Please elaborate. Which parts have proven to be a challenge?”
“I can’t get the image of Suki’s last night out of my head,” I answer, watching them carefully as I wonder what information they have on her and Callum—and what I might be able to glean. “It hurts to be in my room without her, or to think about what might have been if I’d only forced her to go to the medic. And then what happened to Callum, I just don’t believe—”
I break off before I say too much. Dot leans over the touch-screen desk and makes a series of rapid tapping motions, as if taking notes. I watch, mesmerized by the sight of the robot’s humanlike hands, consisting of three fingers and a thumb.
“Naomi.” Cyb’s voice jolts me back to attention. “What don’t you believe?”
“I—I don’t believe he’s dead. I mean, I know it’s true, but I just can’t believe it happened,” I improvise, trying not to think about how my vitals must be spiking on the monitors right now. Dot makes more of her tapping motions over the desk, and my heart sinks. I must be making some kind of impression.
“What are the other difficulties you’ve faced here?”
Trying to prove the secret behind this RRB we’re getting injected with, I say silently. Trying to uncover what Dr. Takumi is hiding from us about the mission, before it’s too late. But of course I can’t say any of that. Instead, I tell the robots a different truth.
“Being away from my family. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. There are other finalists here who are eager to get away from Earth, and I understand. But I . . .” I take a deep breath, looking Cyb straight in his artificial eyes. Be honest. Maybe this will help them trust me. “I’m not one of them. I need to be with my family, especially my little brother, Sam.”
Cyb nods. “Thank you for sharing. Now, tell us the positive aspects. Are there areas here at ISTC where you feel yourself thriving?”
“Yes,” I admit. “If I separate myself from the feelings about leaving my family, and if I can manage to get past what happened to Suki and Callum, then this place is in many ways a fantasyland for someone like me, with all the groundbreaking science around every corner. Starting with you two, actually. But . . .”
“But what?” Cyb presses.
But it’s a fantasyland with a dark side.
“But I have a hard time letting go,” I say instead. “Although there are times when I have, like in the Vomit Comet or the virtual reality sims.”
“And with Leonardo Danieli.”
My head snaps up. Did . . . did Cyb really just say that?
“Excuse me?”
“We’ve detected a connection between you and finalist Leonardo Danieli,” Cyb says smoothly. “Wouldn’t you say that’s been one of the positives of your time here?”
My throat turns dry. Even with Cyb’s emotionless tone, I can hear the subtext in his seemingly innocuous words. We’re watching. We see more than you know.
“Leo and I are just friends,” I stammer, when I find my voice. “But yeah, he’s—he’s awesome. My closest friend here.”
I clear my throat nervously as Dot and Cyb turn to each other and nod.
“All right. We have a few general questions for you now. You may not understand why these are the questions being asked, but that’s not important. What matters is answering promptly with the first thought that comes to mind.” Cyb swipes the left-hand corner of the desk, and I can see the reflection of text lighting up the glass.
“Do you believe that everything in the world is relative?”
“Yes,” I answer. That’s an easy one. “I do.”
“Do you trust reason above feelings?” Cyb peers closely at me.
“Um . . .” I falter, unsure which answer is the truth. I am a scientist, therefore I should be ruled by reason. But it’s my gut, even more than my reasoning, that’s been telling me something shifty is afoot with the Europa Mission.
“If I can add a third choice, I would say I trust my educated intuition most of all,” I finally answer.
Cyb doesn’t object and moves on to the next question.
“Do images, words, or ideas often come to your mind unbidden?” the robot asks.
I shake my head. That’s a weird one.
“Do you have suspicious ideas about the world around you?”
I freeze. Is Cyb asking because the AI somehow knows what I’ve been thinking about the mission? Or are all the finalists being asked the same question?
“I don’t think so,” I lie, forcing myself to meet the robot’s eyes. “I would say I’m no more suspicious than your average person.”
“Lastly, if you were forced to fight in self-defense, what would your preferred method be? Would you use your own body, your environment, or weapons?”
Another weird question. I rack my brain, thinking aloud.
“Well, I’m not much of a fighter. Technology is my weapon of choice.” The flash drive waiting in my dorm room comes to mind, and my face turns hot. “Um, I’ll go with environment.”
“We’re nearly done now.” Cyb double-taps the desk and then turns back to me. “I just need you to take a look at some images here.”
I join Cyb and Dot behind the desk, watching in amazement as the glass turns cloudy, colors swirling together in front of me, until they form the shape of a bat extending its wings.
“Please memorize the image,” Cyb instructs, before the colors scramble together again and then fade into the clear glass. “Tell us what you think it looked like.”
“It’s the Rorschach test,” I say, remembering the disappearing inkblots from my Intro to Psychology class. The way I interpret the images will tell Dot and Cyb whether or not I have any psychological disorders. If I knew how to manipulate the test, this could be my way home—but I can’t go anywhere until I prove my theories about the RRB and Europa. I’m in too deep.
“I see a bat with its mouth wide open and its wings outstretched,” I reply, going with the honest answer.
After giving my interpretation of two more inkblot pictures, it’s finally time to go. But while I’m relieved to be done with the test and out from under the robots’ watchful eyes, a part of me is reluctant to leave this room—the place the answers lie.
My words to Leo last night replay themselves in my mind. If there are biosignatures to be found, they have to still be stored within Dot and Cyb. I gaze up at them now, my eyes fixating on the metal plates covering their torsos—the place where the AIOS software resides. The place where I’d break in and retrieve their secrets, if only I could.
After all, based on what he said about Leo . . . it seems Cyb is already collecting secrets of mine.
We can hear the wind from the cafeteria that night, its gusts rattling the windows all through dinner. A crack of thunder echoes in the room, and as I look at the tense faces surrounding me, I know I’m not the only one worrying about what this means. We’ve been so sheltered here at ISTC, with all the barriers and fortifications keeping the tide at bay, that it’s been easy—at least for me—to pretend that we’re safe from the raging storms as long as we’re here. But this is the first time the sounds of outside have infiltrated our walls . . . and it makes me wonder what’s coming.
“I can’t stand the thought of having to go back out there,” Katerina says, eyeing the window. “It’s crazy to know we’re just three days away from the first elimination.”
“Don’t worry. I bet you’ll get chosen, right along with me,” the ever-confident Beckett assures her, giving Katerina a flirtatious smile. Gross. He glances at Lark. “Don’t you think so?”
“You know I can’t say a word on that topic,” Lark reminds him, before taking a bite of chicken tikka masala from tonight’s menu. “Besides, I honestly don’t know. I mean, I have my opinions, but Dr. Takumi and the general haven’t told me which way they’re leaning.”
“Well, have you given them your input on who you think the Final Six should be?” Beckett asks, watching her carefully. I try to catch Leo’s eye to mak
e a face, but he is preoccupied, staring at Beckett with a slight frown. Come to think of it, he’s been acting weird since the bungee-jumping day.
Lark laughs, waving Beckett off. “Again, no comment. Dr. Takumi has made it very clear that I’m not to discuss this with you. However, I can confidently say that any one of you would be a true asset to the mission.”
“I’m so nervous.” Asher buries his head in his hands. “What’s even the point of trying to eat?”
“Does this mean none of you feel any . . . different about the mission, after what happened to Suki and Callum?” I ask. Lark shoots me a warning glance, but I’m genuinely curious. Aren’t they at least a little less gung-ho now?
“I feel awful for them, of course I do. But I trust Dr. Takumi when he says the rest of us should be safe,” Katerina replies. “And if you knew what I’d be going back to . . .” She shudders. “Besides, how could you not want to be one of the six humans in the world to live out an adventure greater than anything in history?”
“Sounds like that doesn’t interest her,” Beckett says, jerking his thumb in my direction, before turning to Lark. “Maybe she should just go home now, if her heart’s not in it. I’m more than happy to carry the American flag on my own.”
“Um, I’m right here,” I snap at him. Just because he happens to be correct that I’m not ready to take a one-way trip off our planet doesn’t mean I’ll sit back and let him try to undermine me.
“That’s not how this works, Beckett,” Lark says, arching an eyebrow at him. “Having the right set of skills and characteristics matters more to the mission leaders than who’s the most eager.”
While he grumbles into his plate, I turn back to Katerina.
“Could you go somewhere other than Russia? I mean, if you didn’t get chosen.”
“I don’t even want to think about what I’d do,” she says flatly. But to my surprise, Lark backs me up again.
“Actually, it’s smart to think about and prepare for either scenario,” she says. “The reality is, not everyone gets to go to Europa. And I’m sure there are some things from your normal lives that you’d be glad to return to. Right?”
“I don’t know where I’d go,” Leo speaks up, shaking his head. “But it won’t be Rome. There are too—too many ghosts for me there. I would have to start over somewhere new.”
“I can’t go back to Israel either,” Asher says, staring at the table. “Our entire land is under the Mediterranean now. Before the draft, I’d just moved in with my aunt and uncle to their two-room flat in Surrey. I know I’m lucky to have a roof over my head, but . . . I never thought I would have to become a yerida.” He glances back up at us. “That’s what we call those who emigrate from Israel. I would have stayed forever, on the same street where I grew up, if I could have.”
“You realize how much of yourself is wrapped up in where you’re from once it’s taken away,” Leo says.
The two of them share a knowing glance, and I suddenly feel out of my depth. I don’t have a right to be a part of this conversation, not when I have my parents and little brother waiting for me at home—when I have an actual home, period. It’s strange to think that my intact family marks me as different, unrelatable, in my teammates’ eyes. And as I gaze across the table at Leo and Asher, a wave of helplessness washes over me. There’s nothing I can do to change their situations . . . nothing.
“You can try to keep a part of it with you, though,” Katerina says. “After Moscow went under, I found I missed the nights most of all—the way the monuments looked all lit up, the energy in the capital city before everything sank. So I started painting it all from memory, and even though I’m not the best artist, it really helps. It’s sort of like reliving your past on the canvas.”
“That’s a beautiful idea,” Lark says. She turns to Beckett. “What about you?”
“What about me?” he asks, gruffly.
“You’d go back to DC, right? Is there anything you miss about home, or would look forward to seeing again?”
A funny look crosses his face, and then he nods. “Yeah, the White House doesn’t suck. My uncle lets us live there, since it has all the best flood barriers and weather protections. But I don’t think I’m going back.” He lifts his chin. “I was always meant for something bigger.”
“I guess in three days we’ll know,” Asher says, taking a deep breath.
I glance back at Leo, wondering how much time we have left. How much longer will his friendship be in my life?
In three days, we’ll know.
Fifteen
LEO
I WAKE TO THE SOUND OF A SICKENING CRACK—THE SOUND A tree might make if it snapped its neck. I struggle to sit up, but my bed is shaking, the ground rumbling and sliding beneath it.
“Earthquake!” Asher shouts. “Cover your head!”
I duck under the sheets, shoving my pillow over my head as the walls convulse around us. I brace myself for the shards of shattered glass to come flying, for the furniture to smash to the ground, just like the day the waves crashed through the windows of Rome. But then I remember—there are no windows in this room. Our furniture is bolted to the floor. NASA prepared for everything.
Just as I’m convincing myself that it’s merely an earthquake, that it won’t be like Rome all over again, a clap of thunder breaks through the noise—followed by a growing roar. It sounds like a freight train is speeding straight toward us. That can only mean one thing.
“Tsunami,” I try to yell, but my voice is garbled and barely makes a sound. “Tsunami!”
The water lashes at the walls, the floor rocking from the earthquake’s aftershocks. I hear Asher begin to pray in Hebrew, his voice rising in panic, and I squeeze my eyes shut, seeing my mother’s face. Her skin was blue when I finally found her in the water, a sight that caused me to throw up for days. But now I am joining her. I thought I had more time left—time to tell Naomi how I feel, to be one of the first humans to set foot on Europa—but I can feel the hand of Earth, reaching down to take me.
And then the door flies open. I pull the covers from my eyes and see the outline of a body swaying in the doorway.
“Get dressed as fast as you can and meet me at the foot of the stairs!” Lark’s voice shouts. “Don’t forget shoes and flashlights.”
She disappears to the next door, and I struggle out of bed, feeling my way to the dresser in the darkness. We throw on clothes, and then bolt out of the room and into the dorm corridor. The floor beneath us seems to have solidified, but the wind howls like a threat, warning us that the danger hasn’t passed. The high-pitched wail of an alarm follows us through the halls as we reach the crowd of disheveled finalists and staff at the foot of the stairs. Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov stand before us, their expressions strained as they scan our faces in the glow of flashlights, taking a head count. And then Dr. Takumi leads us forward to the wall opposite the stairs.
“What’s happening?” someone cries in my ear, and I shake my head, watching as Takumi presses a button on his watch—and a camouflaged door swings open within the wall.
It looks like some kind of emergency tunnel, with sandbags lining the space and a water dispenser and row of canned food in the corner. As Dr. Takumi herds us all inside, a hand finds my arm in the dark. I know without looking that it’s Naomi.
We make our way deeper into the passage, and I hear the general’s voice over my shoulder.
“Dot and Cyb! What about—”
“They’re fine,” Dr. Takumi interrupts. “Safe in their charging pods.”
“And the power?”
“It should be back on once we’re out of here,” he answers.
That’s when Naomi’s hand slips out of my grasp. I turn and whisper her name, but she’s already gone, her sweater flapping behind her as she disappears out of the tunnel. And the tunnel door starts sliding to a close.
My heart is in my throat, my palms sweating as I make the split-second decision. Do I stay in the safety of the emergency tunnel
or follow her? The obvious choice is to stay put—the combination of earthquake aftershocks and a nearby tsunami are a lethal pair—but the thought of anything happening to Naomi springs me into action.
I back away from the crowd, flattening my body as I approach the tunnel opening. When I’m somewhat confident no one is looking, I jump out of the tunnel—making it a second before the door closes.
I watch as the bunker seals shut, leaving me exposed to the elements. And then I run to the stairs, stumbling down the last few steps as the angry earth shudders with aftershocks. Once I reach the fourth floor, I find the shattered windowpanes I was expecting, and I weave around the thick broken shards until I spot a lithe figure up ahead.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell as I catch up to her.
Naomi spins around and shines her flashlight on me. But then she keeps moving. “This is my shot,” she pants. “The robots are alone. I’ll never get a chance like this again.”
“Are you out of your mind? How could you risk your life for this—this experiment?” I sputter.
“If I get the proof I suspect, I’ll be saving lives—six of them,” she shoots back. “Don’t worry about me, please. Just go back to the others.”
I shake my head in frustration. “I’m not leaving you now.”
I follow as she races to the robotics lab, barely able to hear myself think through the rumble of thunder and the shrieking wind outside. We reach the blue-painted door, and I’m just about to remind Naomi that we can’t get in without a pass—until she turns the handle and it swings open.
“How did that happen?”
“It’s an electronic lock,” she explains, pulling me inside with her. “When the power went out, the locks were disabled. Same with the cameras.”
“So then aren’t the robots shut down, too? In which case, what are we doing here?”
“The AIs run on solar power, since they were built specifically for the spacecraft,” Naomi says. “So the blackout doesn’t affect them—it only affects their surroundings.”
The Final Six Page 16
