“Is it comparable to when there is a funeral pyre?” Hanley asked.
“No,” Michael responded quickly, shaking head. “The nanotech panels are equipped to absorb and convert a large amount of carbon dioxide, as you know. I’ve never seen numbers like this before.”
Hanley studied the incoming data, his eyes twitching back and forth as he read. “The oxygen sensors haven’t kicked in?”
“We can initiate the emergency O2 with your permission.”
“Let’s wait.”
Michael’s eyes widened as his skin turned a sickly shade of green. “But, sir, they’ll suffocate.”
“No. Jeff or The Aether would contact me if there was a problem. Or, someone would go to Messenger Pigeon. Are you sure the numbers are correct? Have the Guardian Angels verified this isn’t the work of a hacker? Are all other software systems intact and reading properly?”
“A hacker?” Michael’s eyes rounded again.
“Until I am notified by someone within New Eden that something has happened, we will do nothing.” Hanley looked to Della. “Let’s go have dinner. Coal, care to join us?”
Coal lifted the hem of his shirt to wipe away the sweat gathering on his forehead. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his body. Hanley, on the other hand, appeared as if this was as worrisome as choosing between two favorite desserts. The very thought of all those he loved suffocating sent Coal into a wild panic.
“Oh, wow.” Michael paled again and Della’s mouth parted in a delicate look of astonishment. “The numbers flipped. Now the CO2 looks healthy and the O2 is increasing.”
Hanley placed his hands inside his pants pockets. “Coal, has Fillion contacted Mack lately?”
“No, sir.”
“But he has before?”
“Yes, sir.”
“When was the last time you saw Mack?”
“This morning.”
“And what were you doing?”
Coal paused a moment. “Hanging out, sir.”
Hanley nodded his head and looked toward Della. “Let’s go eat.” As he walked out of the door, he said to Michael, “Tell the Guardian Angels they’ve been hacked and to contact the security team.”
“Will do,” the scientist replied, picking up his Cranium and practically flying out of the room.
“Coal, are you coming?” Dr. Nichols asked from the doorway.
“Go ahead. I shall join you shortly. I need to visit the restroom first.” She smiled, the look more sorrowful than anything, and then exited the room.
A few minutes later, Coal fell onto his bed and stared at the ceiling. He needed to alert Mack and wished to tell Lynden the good news—minus the abhorrent confession by her father. However, Coal knew he would raise suspicion should he dawdle too long. He would call Lynden later. For now, it was imperative Mack knew he was suspected of breaching the biodome’s control system at Fillion’s behest.
Blindly reaching over to his nightstand, Coal felt for his Cranium. Once his fingers curled around the device, he strapped it to his ear and called Mack.
“Hey, you’re in or out?”
“Out,” Coal answered. “I am pressed for time so please forgive my abruptness.”
“Bit dump.”
“Did you perchance hack into the control system for the biodome?”
“Uh, no. Why?”
Coal scanned his room, then explained the situation to Mack. “So, you have not spoken to Fillion?”
“Shit. No. You haven’t heard?”
“Heard what exactly?”
“God, they really take honoring someone’s delusional wishes seriously in New Eden. Holy shit. I had hoped they came to their senses and called for medical attention.”
“Whatever are you implying?”
“Fillion was poisoned last night. The lucky bastard pulled through, thanks to your sister and some other folks. Joannah. Tim.”
“Timna.”
“Whatever.”
“How did you hear of this?”
“Ember called me at four-something in the morning after you and Rainbow left.”
“I see.” Coal grit his teeth together. “So, the faulty data is not the work of you or your team?”
“Big. Emphatic. No. But I’ll start investigating. Flipping numbers like that is a good indicator of a rush job. Hack doesn’t know what he’s doing. I’ll isolate the idiot, don’t worry.”
“Thank you.” Coal closed his eyes. “I need to go. Please tell Lyn I will call her tonight. I am not going in the dome, but there are conditions.”
“Nice. Will do. This means I’ll get to see your girly ass again, Farm Boy?”
“You are lucky I cannot punch you right now.”
Mack laughed. “Later, mate.”
They disconnected their line and Coal’s mind buzzed with the news of Fillion’s poisoning. However, he would remain quiet. If Fillion wished for his parents to know, they would by now.
At this moment, Coal would give anything to remain in solitude and forgo dinner with Hanley and Dr. Nichols. His body was on fire with a multitude of emotions. If a robot were nearby, it would probably ask Coal if he experienced dizziness or felt lightheaded as his blood pressure was most definitely elevated. Irritated, he rolled onto his side with a grim smile and studied the black box that housed Ignis. Coal needed to start moving.
Tucking the Cranium into his pocket, he rose from the bed and traipsed toward the door and continued toward the dining hall. The smell of food assaulted his senses and sharp pains exploded from his unsettled stomach once more. Nevertheless, he lowered into a chair opposite Hanley and Dr. Nichols and offered a companionable smile.
***
And as it turned out, oxygen was not the only problem. Biosphere 2 also suffered from wildly fluctuating CO2 levels. Most of the vertebrate species and all of the pollinating insects died, while cockroaches and ants started to take over the place. The ocean eventually became too acidic and the internal temperature became impossible to control.
And just to make matters worse, the team started to experience health and psychological issues. The four men and four women left Biosphere 2 depressed and malnourished after nearly two years of isolation. Interpersonal relationships had regressed over the course of the two years, creating what the biospherians called a “dysfunctional family.”
— George Dvorsky, “Why We Should Reboot the Biosphere Projects,” io9 / Gawker, August 29, 2012 *
***
The community rose from their kneeling positions and the skittish, fidgety energy rippled through the gathering as before. Willow fastened her sight to a latticed window on the opposite end of the Great Hall. A lace veil covered her face per tradition, a ceremonial prop she was for once grateful to possess. Mortification permeated every ounce of her being and her head grew faint as she oscillated between holding her breath and breathing quickly to satisfy her pounding pulse.
Leaf gently grasped her hand and lifted it as he drew breath in order to speak loudly. Any words he was about to share dissolved, however, when the large hewn doors opened. Timothy strolled into the Great Hall, dipping his head in greeting and offering an apologetic salute to those who gathered upon the stage. Where had he been? His family was here. Willow was almost tempted to peer over her shoulder, where The Elements sat, and see Skylar’s reaction. Instead, she remained rigid, shoulders straight and back, and her head held high.
Leaf’s hold upon Willow’s hand tightened and then he spoke, his voice deep, carrying easily across the room. “It is with great honor that I present Her Highness, Princess Willow Oak Watson, Daughter of Earth, to the assembly as a woman within the community who is bestowed every lawful right and privilege within our Township.”
Willow’s eyes shifted to her little sister, who stood under the protective arm of Brianna at the front of the stage. Laurel’s eyes shone bright with romantic fancies, her lips and cheeks pinked with girlish notions her young mind was no doubt indulging in readily. Corona tapped on Laurel�
�s shoulder and they both stifled giggles behind hands.
In gentle motions, Leaf turned toward Willow and lifted the veil. Her legs buckled slightly, but she refused to faint. Leaf’s eyes met hers briefly before averting them, and a muscle in his jaw tightened.
This was not a wedding ceremony, she kept reminding herself. It was simply symbolic. Young men also stood before the community upon their sixteenth birthday. They knelt and swore oaths to protect and provide. To Willow, however, the women’s ceremony seemed so shallow—becoming objects to worship, mere ornaments to dangle upon the boughs of the community’s core values. She tired of feeling judged, measured, and constricted, as if the success of their colony solely resided in a young woman’s reputation, with marriage the only salvation against scandal.
Swathes of wool swished in a metered rhythm as Brother Markus came forward. Two of his fingers cut through the air in signum crucis as he said, “In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.” The community murmured an “amen” in reply.
Willow studied the wooden stage, turning the slats into knotty branches. If only she could spend her birthday in the sprawling limbs of her beloved tree instead of being trussed up and paraded before the community. At this moment, she was grateful Fillion was still in bed at their apartment and not witness to her shame. “Dear Lord in Heaven,” she muttered with irritation under her breath, catching Brother Markus’ attention.
The old monk bowed his head as his hands extended a wooden crucifix. “Daughter of Earth, today you stand before all as New Eden’s bride and represent the holy sacrament of matrimony.” Willow issued a glare her brother’s direction beneath lowered lashes. Brother Markus, oblivious to their exchange, continued, “Family is the well of strength of our colony. For marriage strengthens community bonds and is an essential rite of passage our Township reveres and eulogizes. Therefore, this day we hold a feast in your honor, Your Highness, celebrating the union of all the lives who comprise our community.”
Extending his arms, Brother Markus faced the gathering, who placed hands upon hearts and intoned the familiar benediction in unison: “May your future home be blessed with the riches of love, happiness, and the laughter of many children. Amen.”
Now, Willow was ready to die, but not before giving her brother a piece of her mind for forcing her to go through with this nonsensical ceremony. Furious winds whipped inside of her and would need release before too long. Leaf had been in a reactive mood all day, however. She tired of being the target of his troubles. She had been biting her tongue, a rather difficult feat for her. Leaf simply refused to see reason, declaring that trust was a commodity that no longer existed within the biodome.
Following Mass, Leaf gave an account of Fillion’s hardship to those present. From the stories Willow heard by women who visited her apartment throughout the day, the Township was horrified. And, as Leaf had feared, many had panicked, and neighbor turned on neighbor. For hours, she was told, people argued and cast blame. Even physical altercations had occurred. All the while, Leaf stood upon the stage and moderated the discussion until villagers and Nobility alike agreed that they should rally for justice rather than cater to dissension—the real enemy.
Sullen and broody, her brother seemed on the edge of fracturing. Perhaps it was the long night and lack of sleep, the constant flux of pressure and expectations. If not for these reasons, she would have pushed back with force against his patronizing responses already. The winds of change continued to storm, it seemed. This time, her brother hosted the gale-force winds—and everyone within the dome wilted beneath his challenging glare.
Willow exhaled slowly as she grew lightheaded once more. Nevertheless, she continued an elegant bearing before the gathering. Brother Markus lifted a weathered hand and drew a heart upon Willow’s forehead, the symbol of life and death in New Eden. Ceremony complete, she ignored her brother’s proffered arm and strode toward the stairs, itching to sit down and drink a goblet of wine.
“Please, Your Majesty,” Timothy’s voice rang out from the crowd and she stilled. “I wish to draw attention to a situation I encountered yesterday, concerning your sister.”
Leaf squinted his eyes and shifted on his feet, the muscle in his jaw twitching with more regularity. “Let us speak privately, then.”
“As a father of two daughters, I fear I would be doing the community a disservice by not addressing Willow Oak’s reputation publicly.”
Willow gasped and stared at Timothy, unable to form words or even a sound. He questioned her reputation? During her birthday ceremony?
“My sister’s reputation is none of your concern, nor that of anyone in this room,” Leaf replied, his tone low, threatening.
“If only that were true, Your Majesty. As Nobility, she more than most must uphold the traditions and values of our community, would you not agree?”
“You shall refrain from making further comment, Timothy Kane.”
The former Wind Element eyed Leaf with a faint smirk. “You may bend traditions to suit yourself and your family. But by doing so, you mock those who do not possess such power to exact privileges at will.”
“I mock no one,” Leaf said in furious exasperation. “Nor am I responsible for the traditions you as well as other first generation residents created.”
“Yesterday eve, she and the Son of Eden kissed. Are they pledged?”
Leaf’s eyes winced as gasps and whispers circulated. “Once more, neither she nor I owe you or anyone else an explanation.”
Shame thawed the fear gripping Willow’s senses, and she clenched and unclenched her fists. Renewed and charged, she faced Timothy and opened her mouth to reply, but Timothy cut her off.
“Please, look in the eye those of the second generation who have married because of similar situations and tell them why your sister deserves clemency and special considerations?”
Leaf remained quiet and Willow’s heart sank. Slowly, he faced her with a sorrowful expression and fear paralyzed her once more. Would he require her to marry as the final lesson on behaving as a lady should? Tears gathered in her eyes and she tensed her face, refusing to give Timothy the satisfaction. The Great Hall was deathly silent, and Leaf continued to regard her, the confusion evident in his eyes.
“It does not matter if Willow and Fillion are pledged,” Skylar said by her side, and Leaf’s face relaxed with relief. “Neither have broken The Code, nor any physical laws of the United States or the state of California. Some traditions are not healthy—as evidenced by publicly shaming a young woman on her sixteenth birthday.”
“Traditions exist for a reason, son,” Timothy countered in a lighter tone. “They keep order and peace within our community, knowledge that true leaders, such as yourself, understand.”
The room murmured once more, but Skylar remained unmoved. “Father, I do not think—”
“Power is an illusion!” Willow spat.
“Indeed.” Timothy smiled in a way to appear kind yet amused. “Yes, your family is well-versed in ruling behind an illusory curtain of power.”
“My brother is honorable and revealed himself before the community to dissolve such illusions and ideology, and people punish him for it. Yet he does not poison people’s good opinion nor spin tales to fan the flames of rumors and dissension.” Timothy offered a faint nod and his smile grew and, in such a way, Willow knew he understood her deeper message. “You have no power over me or my life!” The injustice burned hot and she gripped the veil on her head and tore it off, throwing the ceremonial prop to the ground. “And neither do traditions that foster order and peace through fear and condemnation!”
Willow lifted her chin and marched off the stage. The gathering parted as she passed through, many bowing their heads in deference, some staring wide-eyed, and some pulling their children back as if her rebellion was contagious. A few weeks prior, Fillion declared that he was not afraid of New Eden’s mob mentality and, at this moment, she realized that neither was she. This was her birthday. The willow oak becko
ned for her to sit in its branches, and so she would. The community could celebrate without her.
With a dainty grunt, she yanked open the doors with every intention of flinging her long hair over her shoulder and storming away. Instead, she recoiled and blinked when smoke stung her eyes. Through the haze she saw the source and terror’s chill oozed into her veins. Her chest expanded as she gulped in a large breath and shouted, “Fire!”
Flames licked up the side of The Forge and black smoke formed dark clouds beneath the dome ceiling. Shrieks and exclamations swelled behind Willow and her vision began to fade around the edges.
“Quick!” Connor boomed somewhere behind her. “Fetch any bucket or container you can find and form an assembly line from the well.”
“Open the East and South Cave doors!” Skylar yelled.
People rushed around her and into the meadow, knocking into her. She braced herself as best she could, unable to move as villagers stampeded out of the Great Hall. Leaf pushed through, gripped her shoulders, and pressed her against one of the doors, shielding her body with his. They remained in this position until the threat of being trampled had passed.
“Are you well?” Leaf asked, easing away.
“This is my fault,” she whimpered, heaving with the effort to hold in the urge to sob. “Coal left because of me, and now his family suffers and so does New Eden.”
“Do not be absurd,” her brother snapped. Willow turned her head to the side and clenched her jaw. “This has nothing to do with you and everything to do with Hanley.”
Her eyes rounded and the blood rushed from her head. “Do you believe Fillion is safe?”
“I ... I cannot say.”
“He is alone, is he not?”
“Yes, I do believe so.”
“Then hurry and restrain Timothy before he can do more damage.”
“We do not know—”
“He is a snake and should be taken captive and formally addressed! Go and retain him now before he slithers away!” Willow nudged her brother in the shoulder, and he staggered back a step, but did not turn to leave. “This is not a time for diplomacy. You cannot reason with such a man.”
Elements (The Biodome Chronicles series Book 2) Page 58
