What Tomorrow May Bring

by Tony Bertauski

  From the atrium, Brad leads us through a series of turns until we arrive at a familiar hallway where Blake and I took our field trip to the Garden City model.

  “Kira, I thought it was time I introduced you to the whole of Thera. You need to understand the importance of the Second Chance Institute, how far-reaching our program is, and why you are so vital to it,” Brad tells me. He’s going to let us see all the cities? Cool! I watch as he signals four different people to use a combination of passkeys and codes on floor panels. The moment deserves to be celebrated with my best friend, but Ethan’s still shunning me and my heart aches for him.

  The walls on either side of us lift and give way to a sight more spectacular than the glass mosaics in the atrium. In every direction there are full-scale city models—every one completely different from the other. One city has spindly skyscrapers. Another appears to be completely underground. A third has been built entirely of white and blue marble and a fourth of jeweled glass. One city looks like it has thousands of “pods” made of shells and cement. A very mysterious city is surrounded by mirrored walls.

  “It would take weeks to explore every city,” Brad states. “Tonight, we’ll just take the moving sidewalk from one end to the other, so you can get an idea of the diverse nature of the Theran landscape.” He motions us to step onto the walkway, which we do.

  “Why is every city so different?” I ask, watching the models while we converse. I don’t want to miss anything, even though I’m having trouble absorbing it all while my mind is on Ethan’s revelation. I keep shifting my attention from the cities to Ethan. He still refuses to look at me.

  “Excellent question. Each city has a unique personality—from landscape to people, to government, to architecture. We track best practices from each city,” he says.

  “How so?” I ask. “That sounds complicated.”

  “We have quarterly meetings with all the City Heads here at Headquarters. In fact, the next one is next Monnight and Tuesnight. The first night, we will discuss and record good practices from each area, and the second night, we will meet with top government officials from Earth to share our findings.”

  “How do Earth’s officials use the information?” I ask in a very professional manner as if I’m representing a non-existent Theran newspaper.

  “We give them ideas for new legislation and effective methods to manage diverse groups of people with obvious goals of reducing crime, increasing productivity, and increasing personal accountability for citizens,” he replies.

  “So the folks back on Earth can expect to be Cleaved or face Exile?”

  “No, but perhaps there should be accountability for premarital relations to try to ratchet up morality. And an adaptation of the Circle of Compliance could be useful, so citizens know whether they’re in good standing or not—especially if they know the better they act, the more influence they’ll have on society’s rules. But those are minor thoughts in the grand scheme of things. We get hundreds of ideas from other cities. We create systems that work for Theran citizens, but obviously, change must happen in degrees back on Earth.”

  “From my interviews with your Recruiters, I can tell that some of the city governments would be considered pretty extremist back on Earth. Are the Theran citizens in those cities happy and well cared for?” His theory only works if the quality of life is good for everyone.

  “We take care to place Recruits and Second Chancers where they’ll have the best experience. Some people need more structure than others. Others need nurturing environments. So yes, we like to think that our citizens, overall, are much happier than those on Earth,” he says.

  “Interesting.” I’m not sure I agree or condone the extreme actions the Ten take to protect their secrets, but at least I understand better how the Theran government works and why they want and need people to travel between the two worlds. I wonder why Brad Darcton trusted me with this information. Blake’s dad and his Militant Exiler gang would kill to know that all the City Heads would be here next week.

  We continue down the walkway in silence. Ethan shifts closer to me and presses his arm against mine, but he still won’t look at me. We watch the bizarre scenery while leaning against the handrail: A floating city built on giant pylons with marshy land underneath, Farm City has no visible residences above ground—only farmland, and, in what seems to be the very center of all of it, there’s a large, two-story circular platform with dozens of long, narrow tubes emanating from each level in every direction. It almost looks like two giant bicycle wheels laid atop one another with the tubes being the spokes of the wheels.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “That’s the secret source of our power and reason we’ll never be defeated.” Brad smirks. “But, I think I’ll leave it undefined for now other than to say it helps us with resource allocation and management.” It reminds me of something, but I can’t quite place what.

  Our moving walkway circles the spokes, but a close-up view gives no additional clues to its purpose. Beyond it, I see a triangular city with what looks like large manmade canals through it—like Venice on steroids.

  “Let me guess—Import/Export City at the Bermuda Triangle?”

  “Yes,” Brad confirms.

  When our tour concludes, I’ve counted at least thirty distinct cities, though I may have missed some.

  “Are all the cities represented here?”

  “Not all,” he says. “We’re always expanding, and the models take a considerable amount of time…and real estate to build.” He finishes out our tour, and then we retrace our steps back through the Headquarters building. Once back out, Brad reminds us to keep our mouths shut about what we’ve seen and leaves us.

  “We need to talk,” I say to Ethan. “Really need to talk.” He cups my face in his hands, rests his forehead and nose against mine. It’s impossible to be this close to him, knowing how he feels about me, without having my feelings bubble to the surface no matter how hard I try to shove them to the back of my mind—for Blake’s sake, not my own.

  “Not now. I have plans. But we’ll talk soon.” He leans in to kiss me but instead, plants one on my cheek after grazing my lips with his. I stand there for a long time watching him walk away. He turns once and stares for a moment but then vanishes around a corner, and I feel completely and horribly alone.

  Blake’s sound asleep when I enter his room and slip into bed next to him given it’s well into the morning. It takes a while to rouse him. When traditional methods don’t work, I kiss his eyes, ears and nose and rub his chest.

  “What are you doing here?” he asks. “I haven’t…” I peck him on the mouth to shut him up. He doesn’t need to tell me that he hasn’t changed his mind. I know that. But I need to tell him about the City Heads’ Meeting, and this is the only way I can think to do it discreetly. After all, Brad thinks I’m spending all night, every night and day trying to Cleave with Blake…

  “Play along,” I whisper. “I need to tell you something important.” He kisses me back, but I can tell there’s little feeling to it.

  “What? Be quick. I need my sleep.”

  “Every City Head is coming to Garden City for a meeting,” I say, kissing him along the neck.

  “I know that. Why do you think I’m trying to get sleep? My father and the Militants attack tomorrow night.”

  “Why tomorrow?” I ask. “The meeting is next Monnight and Tuesnight. Monnight’s meeting is for City Heads only, and then a bunch of Daynighters who work as government officials on Earth show up on Tuesnight.”

  “You’re positive?”

  “Brad Darcton told me.” I leave out the part about the city models. It takes four guys with proper access to open the walls, so the Militants have zero hope of ever getting in there.

  “Ted set us up,” Blake says. “I had a bad feeling, but my dad wouldn’t believe that Ted had turned.”

  “I’m sorry. I just thought it was important that you knew. If Brad finds out I told you, it won’t be good for either
of us.” I want to tell him everything but know Blake would end up dead if I did. He’ll be at huge risk come tomorrow when the Militants show. I’ll only be able to bargain with Brad Darcton if I’ve kept the bulk of the truth from Blake.

  We kiss for a short while longer, but it feels more forced than my kisses with Ethan on Earth. In fact, it’s pure drudgery because Blake’s not responding at all. Now I know what Ethan meant when he compared me to a steel post. I find myself thinking about Ethan the whole time and wondering what plans he had to keep us from talking, or if he lied to avoid spending more time with me given how much I’ve hurt him. The whole time we were home, he wasn’t faking it. When he told my father he wanted to marry me, he probably meant it. He wants to have kids together and grow old with me. Thinking about another guy, even if I’m not imagining him in an inappropriate way, makes it difficult to keep kissing Blake.

  It’s not that I don’t still care for Blake. My feelings for him are strong, but all the fighting with no compromise has left me feeling depleted and completely void of emotion. I feel like I’ve been beating my head against a battery of knives, and they’ve carved the life right out of me.

  I’m more of a zombie than my Second Chancer friends.

  “You should go,” Blake finally says. “Thanks for trying again, but I’m still not ready for that kind of commitment.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I say. “You’ve made that really clear.”

  I turn and leave to go sulk in my room. That’s what they’ll expect. This morning, I’ll have to fake it.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Blake

  I rise mid-afternoon, unable to sleep. Kira’s revelation about the true date of the City Heads’ Meeting deeply disturbs me. Although I warned my father that Ted might be setting them up, I still feel as if I’ve failed the Exilers. I wasn’t able to persuade my father not to attack, and I gave him the wrong information about the date of the City Heads’ Meeting. Ted’s a traitor and has assuredly informed the Ten of the impending attack. They’ll be ready and waiting. The only things the Militants will have going for them are their city uniforms and three-hour head start. They better use this small advantage well. I do think Ted will disable the Eco barrier at the appointed time, believing he’s luring the Militants into the Ten’s trap. There’s still a chance my father can get out safely.

  After a quick shower, I get dressed in a Headquarters uniform Ted brought to me. It would draw too much attention to wear my school uniform in the city during class hours. I eat a hearty breakfast before collecting food, sunscreen, extra clothes, a flashlight, duct tape, and other necessities. The necessities include anything I could use to help capture SCI officials or protect myself if needed including knives, rope, and a bag of flour which can be used to create a lame and very temporary smokescreen. Sleeping pills and pain pills that I’ve ground into powder can be slipped into a drink or food. Perfume that Kira doesn’t use could blind someone if sprayed in the eyes. If not, it’ll surely make them gag. I have to be prepared to leave with the Militants or fly under the radar for a while, in or out of the city, and defend myself if attacked. The loot blankets our dining table as I try to figure out how to efficiently fit it all in a small pack designed to cart my tablet computer.

  “Going somewhere?” I hear from behind. Crap. It figures this would be the one time she’d wake up early. I’ve done my best to avoid Kira since I made my choice. But this morning when she crawled into bed with me and gave me a heads up about the real City Heads’ Meeting date, it took every ounce of energy to treat her like an inanimate object. I thought about bad-tasting foods, negative experiences, and eons of SCI control to keep from mauling her.

  It’s best Kira think I’m a heartless prick who chose my father’s cause over a life with her. Actually, that’s exactly what I am, because I did make that choice. Not because I don’t have feelings for her. I owe the Exilers too much to let them down—and although it would be better if my dad and Doc Daryn agreed on a strategy that would keep the peace and grant freedom to both the Exilers and Second Chancers, I realize that my father will never compromise. So, I’ll do what I can to help overthrow the SCI today even if it means sacrificing my chance with Kira or my own life.

  I make the mistake of looking at her. She has got her arms crossed, a foul look on her face, and distrust streaming from her eyes. It’s kind of hot. “Good evening—or I guess it’s still afternoon. I’m just getting ready for my night.” She circles the table, perusing my stash, running her fingers across it all.

  “Need any help?” She stops in front of me and looks directly into my eyes.

  “Nope. Thanks for offering, but I’m good.” I avoid her gaze. I start to stuff everything into my pack, trying to remember my preferred order despite the current distraction in a daygown.

  “You sure?” she asks. I shake my head to indicate I am. “Okay, well, let me know if you change your mind.” I’m tempted to stay here, spend the night with Kira, and let whatever’s going to happen happen. If I leave and join the fight—or even just observe—there’s the possibility I’ll never see her again. The taste of blood brings me out of my trance, and I can feel sharp pain. In my attempt to block out my desire for Kira, I bit the inside of my cheek so hard it’ll be difficult to eat for a week. That’ll stretch my meager supply further if I’m forced to switch to an Exiler’s diet.

  Should I say goodbye to Kira? She disappeared back into her bedroom, likely to take a shower and get ready for the night. If I walk in and find her in anything less than that daygown, I won’t be able to resist. It would be best to avoid a teary, dramatic farewell. I hope that it’ll end up being unnecessary. The Militants need to prevail tonight so I can return home in the morning and celebrate with Kira, assuming she will forgive me and take me back.

  I leave my watch by my desk where I’m supposed to be starting lessons for the night. Then, I quietly slip out the front door. It’s still light out, but the sun is quickly fading behind the canyon hills to the East. The air is hot and sticky, and it smells like a campground which concerns me a little. Fire of any kind is strictly forbidden within the city. I worry the citizens may panic. They’re already on edge about a potential Exiler attack, thanks to Brad Darcton.

  I dart into the entrance to the train and am happy to see it empty but running. Minutes later, I’m at the city center. The sun disappeared while I was aboard the train. The booths and stage have been dismantled, so I have a clear view of the vibrant lights of the Headquarters building. All looks quiet, so I take a seat on a bench next to a city worker and pretend to peruse my tablet for evening news as he is doing. The smell of fire is stronger here. Could it be a diversion of some sort?

  I’m thankful that the lighting is better in the plaza than elsewhere in the city. The street lamps give a hundred feet of visibility or more. Out of the corner of my eye, I see small groups of men in city uniforms on the offshoot street where city officials reside. That’s where I came out of the tunnels the night I infiltrated Headquarters to get Ted’s bogus planted information. They’re at a considerable distance, but a couple of them look familiar. Although I don’t have my watch on, I know what time I left the house. The Exilers planned their arrival to shortly precede the normal worknight at HQ, so if I’m right and it’s my father’s men, they are early.

  “Not again. This is Mandy’s tablet,” I say out loud. The man next to me gives me an odd look. “I grabbed my Cleave’s tablet by accident. It’s the third time this month I’ve done that! Here I thought I was so early, and now I risk being late.” He chuckles as I get up to leave, giving him the impression I’m off to rectify my stupid mistake. I head towards the residential area to get a closer look and confirm the men are Militants.

  It doesn’t take me long to find my father. As promised, he and his henchmen are in city attire, although their equipment implies they are part of a fire safety crew.

  “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  “Take this.” My father hands me a toolbox.
“Don’t say a word. I mean it. Now’s not the time. Just follow.” I nod and follow him to the front door of the next house. A woman answers.

  “We are so sorry to alarm you, ma’am. Is your Cleave home? As you can tell from the odor in the air, there’s something burning in the city, and we’ve been dispatched to find the source,” my father says. She calls to her Cleave who arrives promptly at the door. Medium build. Receding hairline. Cold brown eyes. He’s wearing that telltale symbol that all members of the Ten wear—a silver pin carved with a circle representing the Circle of Compliance and a small number ten in the center of the circle.

  “How can I help you gentlemen?” he asks.

  My father and his colleague don’t bother to answer. My father puts a bullet through both the man and his Cleave’s brains. I gasp in horror at the sight of my father executing two human beings. The man may have been a member of the Ten, but what about his Cleave? My father pushes me back and closes their front door.

  “Go home, Blake,” my father demands. “We’ve got this.”

  “Dad, the meeting isn’t tonight. Ted set us up. It’s next Monnight and Tuesnight.” The words stumble from my mouth.

  “I see,” my father says. “No matter. We’ve hit six of the Ten so far and numerous members of the Grand Council. Garden City’s government will be crippled. Now go.” I back away from the group wanting no part of their mass executions. At no point during my father’s planning sessions do I remember him discussing killing, and not simply capturing, city officials.

  I slowly walk back towards the square as my father’s men finish out the rest of the street. Masses have gathered to report for work at HQ and are making their way through security and into the building. Pretending to be one of them, I join the line and get out my HQ passkey to prepare to enter. My gut says my father and band are headed here next. As I approach the main doors, I’m proven right. I see my father to my side. He glares and motions for me to leave, but I ignore him. If there’s a way to stop further executions, I’ll figure it out. I’m ashamed to carry my father’s DNA right now.