by S.A. Bodeen
Kiva’s forehead wrinkled. “And that means what?”
“While our minds were active, our bodies were in artificial hibernation. It cuts the food and water required, less waste.”
“Were we always in the chambers?” Kiva asked.
Seth shook his head.
They sat there a moment, the only sound the hushed hum of the Tomb.
Kiva bit her lower lip. “It definitely seems easier to believe I’m in space when I’m actually looking at it.” She sighed. “Tell me everything.”
Seth shot her a glance. “You sure?”
“No.” A corner of her mouth turned up.
He scratched his head. “Well, basically all the adults we know were raised on Earth, lived there until they had to leave.”
Kiva sat down and leaned back against the glass. “What happened?”
“An asteroid was passing by Earth. Not near enough to do any damage, but it was part of a magnetic dust cloud, which hid a meteorite, Holocene, that hit the surface.”
Kiva hugged her knees. “And then what?”
“Impact winter. Prolonged cold weather that was going to result in mass extinction.”
“Wait.” Kiva set her chin on her knees. “Everyone just left?”
“Not exactly.” Seth stared out the window a moment. “For years before, the US government had been planning an evacuation—”
“To space?”
Seth nodded. “Geologists had been predicting the eruption of the super volcano under Yellowstone for a long time—” He noticed the glazed look in her eyes. “There are a lot of vid-docs you can watch.” He started to get up.
“I’ll watch them later.”
Seth stopped.
“Please. Tell me the rest.”
Seth settled back on his hands. “The US kept strategic preserves of oil in four underground salt domes.”
“Like mines?”
“Exactly. Immense, secure spaces. The government decided they needed an exit strategy in case the super volcano did erupt, so they quietly hired a private space exploration company, Space Venture, to build the airships, one in each of the domes.”
“People went into space on their own?” she asked.
“Well, rich ones did. Liam Trask was the billionaire that started Space Venture. And since the ships were ready when the meteorite hit, well, they were the first to leave.”
Kiva glanced down at her wrist and the raised initials on the cuff. SV. One mystery solved. “They made these clothes.”
“Space Venture outfitted everything on these ships. They had some pretty advanced stuff for the time that hadn’t gone on the open market. Scientists had only speculated about high-tech airships, but Liam Trask actually built them.” His tone had turned reverential.
“Is Trask your hero or something?”
“No.” Seth wrinkled his nose. “These ships are impressive though. Everything on here can be accessed via voice command.”
Kiva asked, “Can be?”
“I prefer manual.” He smiled. “Hermione kind of freaks me out sometimes.”
She agreed, even though she’d only heard the voice briefly. “Like she’s trying to be human—”
“But isn’t,” he finished.
Their eyes met for a moment.
Kiva turned her attention back to outside. “They fit everyone in the United States on four ships?”
Seth didn’t reply.
She glanced at him. “Did they?”
“Not even close.” He rubbed his chin. “It was a lot of government officials and military. Scientists. The passengers of one ship, the Tambora, were chosen totally by Trask; that was in his contract. Krakatoa was mainly a mix of military and scientific experts. My dad was a general, my mom an engineer.”
Kiva asked, “What was my mom?”
Seth hesitated a moment. “There were also some lucky ones.”
“What does that mean?”
“The manifests for the four ships were decided long before the ships were ever ready. Higher-ups in the government and military. Scientists. Engineers. People capable of building a new civilization in space.”
“Sounds to me like average citizens weren’t invited,” said Kiva.
Seth shook his head. “But when Holocene hit Earth, a lot of planning went out the window. Some of the people on the manifest were on board the ships, but many others had no chance of making it in time. And there were people not meant to be on board who … happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
Kiva let that sink in. “But how did my mom get on?”
“I don’t know. I only know she wasn’t on the original manifest.”
Her mother was only on the ship through random circumstances. Or serendipity. Were it not for chance, Kiva wouldn’t even be alive. She didn’t let herself dwell on that, there was more to know. “Where did the ships go when they left Earth?”
“The plan was to orbit Earth indefinitely, then eventually set course for a joint venture space station, Home Base, that several of the global powers had been building with the US.” He paused. “Think of it like … a sky city.”
Kiva tilted her head, trying to recall. “We learned about space stations in school, didn’t we?”
Seth smiled. “You built that model with all the—”
“Cats. I got marked down for that.”
“Duh. There could never be cats in space.”
Kiva ran her hands through her hair. “Everything they told us would happen in the future … already existed?”
“Yeah. My mom developed the virtual reality program and they hooked all of us up when we were kids, after we entered torpor.”
“How do I know this isn’t part of that? How do you?” Kiva frowned and her words sped up. “We could still be in torpor and this could be another lie—”
Seth touched her knee. “Kiva, it isn’t. You must know, somehow, that it isn’t.”
Kiva gazed back out at the stars. She didn’t want Seth to be right. Thinking of her situation as not real was tempting. But her gut told her that this, no matter how hard to absorb, was real.
Seth took his hand away and sat there, as if waiting for her next question.
She had a million. “Why did they go through all the motions of school if it was stuff we didn’t need to know?”
“But it was what we needed to know. They thought if all this technology was in our heads, then when we finally reached Home Base and were unsealed from torpor, the transition to the real world would be easy.”
Kiva rolled her eyes. “They may want to work on that.”
Seth smiled.
Kiva thought of something. “So why aren’t we at the space station?”
“Home Base was supposed to be completed about ten years after the exodus from Earth. Other countries had ships as well. I don’t know how many were able to evacuate after Holocene, or how many others are up here. But about six years in, they received word that it wouldn’t be ready for at least another decade.”
“Why not?”
Seth shrugged. “But that’s when the leaders on Krakatoa decided to utilize the torpor chambers in order to save resources.”
“Like food?”
Seth nodded.
Kiva said, “Makes sense. That was when we were little?”
“Yeah. On our ship, about forty adults remained awake to tend everyone in the sleep chambers.”
Kiva did a quick head count in her mind of all the citizens of Alexandria. With all the children and adults, maybe sixty in all. If all the adults were in on the ruse … “Why did they need so many people to care for, like, twenty people in torpor?”
Seth chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. “There are over five hundred people in torpor on Krakatoa.”
Kiva’s mouth dropped open. Five hundred? “I’ve only known, like, forty people my whole life.” She mused. “And it was all a dream.”
“My mom worked hard to make it seem as real as possible.”
Kiva’s hand went f
or her wrist and found nothing. Once again, she’d forgotten that the bracelet was gone.
No, not simply gone.
If what Seth said was true, then the bracelet had never existed.
Kiva tried to reconcile the idea that her entire life had been a false existence, created by someone else. But she thought about the small things, minuscule details: the tiny legs of that scarab beetle, scrabbling in the air by the banks of the river. Her red bracelet, torn in half, lying in the rubble.
Her broken nail.
She spread out her fingers, all nails the same practical length, then eyed the pristine white walls, and behind her the sky full of stars.
Was she truly supposed to believe that this, something every child could picture in their heads, replicate easily with chalk on paper, was more authentic than Alexandria?
Seth leaned forward. “I swear.” He placed a hand on hers. “This, right here? This is real.”
A ripple ran up her arm.
Had she ever felt a thing as tangible as his touch?
He moved his hand away.
Kiva wanted to grab it back.
Maybe to prove she was still there, alive, and that this moment, the here and now with him, was the tiny ray of truth in an eclipse of lies.
Maybe she liked the way his touch felt.
Or maybe she was simply feeling sensory overload with the feelings and smells after years in torpor, and she craved more.
Seth sighed. “Anyway, it was a way for them to be with their kids, have a sort of life for part of the day.”
“Everyone in torpor got to be in virtual reality?”
“If they wanted, but most stayed in solid torpor. Requires less. Plus, the years go by faster when you’re in hibernation, which was appealing to most who didn’t have a family on board. Or who had left their family behind.”
“Why would someone leave their family?”
Seth said, “Holocene gave no advanced warning. People working on the ships didn’t have time to get their families.”
“Wait, so they left without them?”
Seth nodded.
“That is so sad.” Kiva set a cheek on the cool glass. “Why did your mom choose ancient Egypt?”
“Everyone missed Earth. A lot. Living it every day in virtual reality would’ve been hard, knowing they couldn’t ever have it back and that their own children would never experience that life. She considered it easier, and less depressing, to choose another time, another place. The ship’s database had all the information and my mom created the program so we felt like we were actually in ancient Alexandria.”
“But we never were,” said Kiva.
“Our bodies never left the torpor chambers.”
Kiva made a fist several times. “That’s why my muscles feel so weird, so stiff.”
“You’ve been out of the chamber for less than twenty-four hours.”
Kiva noticed that he moved far easier than she did. “You seem to be doing pretty well.”
Seth hesitated. “Other than brief visits, I’ve been out longer.”
Kiva’s jaw tightened. “How much longer?”
Seth didn’t answer.
“You said you found out when your mom died. That was three years ago.”
Seth looked down.
“Seth?”
He said nothing.
“How long have you been out of the torpor chamber?”
Seth stared outside.
“Tell me how long you’ve been awake.”
He didn’t answer.
To Kiva, it appeared as though he would remain silent. She wanted to know exactly how long he’d been living an actual life while she was stuck in some glass coffin like Snow White. She opened her mouth to prod him some more, but he cleared his throat.
Finally, he spoke. “When my mom died”—his eyes shifted down and he took a breath—“my dad realized that eventually they would have to tell us the truth. Me.” His eyes flicked to her for a second. “You. The twins. Ada. We were the oldest of the generation born on the ship. We would need to know how to run it, tend the torpor chambers if something happened to the adults. So, he took me out of torpor and told me everything.”
“When was this?” Kiva kept her eyes on him.
Seth avoided her eyes. “The day after my mom’s funeral.”
“That’s why you didn’t come back to school.” Kiva sat up straight. “That’s why we hardly ever saw you again.”
“I went into virtual reality enough so you would all still keep believing it was real.”
Kiva’s face got hot. “You mean so we could keep living a lie.” Her voice quavered. “They let you out and told you the truth. What about the rest of us?”
“It wasn’t like that.” As if attempting to show he cared, he held out a hand toward her.
Kiva leaned back, out of his reach. “You just left us there, in hibernation?”
“It was complicated. None of it was up to me. I couldn’t—”
Her heartbeat raced. “You let us lie there like corpses? Thinking Alexandria was real and it wasn’t?”
“You don’t actually lie down; the torpor chambers are upright—”
“I don’t care! It’s the same thing.”
Seth’s eyes narrowed. “What, like it wasn’t easy to figure out if you thought about it?” He snapped up his index finger. “We spoke English. American English.” Middle finger joined the first. “Our teacher fed us virtual macaroni and cheese for lunch every day because she was too lazy to go on the computers and come up with an Egyptian food.” Ring finger. “We had toothpaste and toothbrushes and deodorant and shampoo.” Pinkie. “We studied Einstein’s theories and he wasn’t born until the nineteenth century!” He jabbed his thumb in the air. “Your mom read you bedtime stories. Pretty sure The Wizard of Oz wasn’t around in ancient Egypt.”
Kiva bit her lip.
Was he right?
How could she have known that she shouldn’t have been aware of Snow White?
Seth pointed at her. “What’s your favorite equation?”
“That’s easy. Maxwell’s. Although it’s technically a set of equations.” She clapped a hand over her mouth.
“Get it?” said Seth. “If Alexandria were real, you wouldn’t even know what that was.”
There were so many things that she couldn’t have known if they were truly in Alexandria.
But there was no way for her to know which was which.
She thought Seth was being unfair to blame her for not knowing the difference.
He asked, “Should I go on?”
Kiva slapped his hand away. “It was real and we all believed it!” She pointed at him. “Even you.”
“Once I knew the truth, it was so obvious.”
“The truth was only obvious because you had the luxury of being out of torpor. You were able to compare the two.”
“So many modern things didn’t belong there. And we talked like Americans, not Alexandrians!” Seth shook his head. “I still don’t know how you and the others didn’t figure it out.”
Kiva’s hand turned to fists. “How would I figure it out?” She was losing her breath. “It was the only world I ever knew. There was no other reality for me. How was I supposed to know what was or wasn’t genuine?” She paused. “I believed that you were really dead.” She left out the part about her grief; he didn’t deserve to know how much she cared. “I even believed I was being sacrificed because of you.”
“If it makes you feel any better, you were. That earthquake wasn’t an earthquake. It was a debris field and it caused real damage to the Krakatoa.”
Kiva frowned. “But they told us all that you died in the earthquake.”
“They have to send me to another ship to get the part they need to fix the damage. And I didn’t ever want to go back to Alexandria anyway, so they told everyone I died, had the funeral the next day—”
“What?” Kiva swallowed. “My mom told me over two months have passed.”
Seth shook his head
. “We hit the debris field day before yesterday. My so-called funeral was yesterday.”
“I knew it.” Kiva slumped. “Why did they make us all think it was seventy days?”
“To make the kids’ belief in Alexandria even more solid.”
Kiva had no words. Her gut clenched at the deception. And the lies that came straight from her mother.
“Anyway, they wouldn’t let me go alone.” Seth slammed his open hand onto the glass. “That’s why we are both here.”
Kiva watched him a moment. “You picked me to go along?”
“Ha. Right. You would have been my last choice.”
Kiva bit her bottom lip. She was angry: angry at her mom for keeping her in the dark, angry at Seth for not caring that she knew nothing all that time. And those three years of frustration and hurt bubbled to the surface. “You were my best friend.”
Seth got to his feet. “This is stupid. You can watch the vid-docs for answers. Just stay out of my way.”
Kiva blurted, “You didn’t once think to say, in all that time, ‘Oh, maybe Kiva should know the truth too?’”
His shoulders tensed.
She hated her whiny tone, but there was no turning back, so she took a breath and reined it in. “You could have said that I needed to know how to run the ship too. That’s something a best friend would do.”
Seth simply stood there.
There was one thing only he could answer. “When did it happen, Seth?”
His forehead creased. “When did what happen?”
Her eyes locked on his. “When did you start hating me?”
Seth frowned, then opened his mouth as if to speak. Perhaps he wanted to defend himself, blame his coldness on his grief.
Maybe he was about to say that she was wrong, that he didn’t hate her.
Or maybe he wasn’t.
She didn’t give him a chance. Kiva forced out a laugh. “This is fine, it really is.”
Seth narrowed his eyes, as if debating whether to believe her or not.
“I’m good with it. You want to know what the best thing is about knowing that all that Egypt stuff was a complete and utter lie?” She got to her knees, then all the way up, barely a step away from him. She clenched her left fist tightly at her side.
