“Myriad Station.” He can’t keep the sigh out of his voice. “It’s time to send you Corporal West’s way. I’ll just go ahead and warn you, he’s not exactly Mr. Personality, but he’s serious about the job, so at least you’ll feel taken care of and all that. You’ll have to travel by boat. The midsection of Grimgarden gets gutted by riverways and swamps. No real alternatives there.”
He swipes the screen and we all get a glimpse of the silo metrics. The entire payload has filled it to the brim, and the digital readout has all our extra nyxia labeled off to one side.
“Here’s what you’ve gathered,” Kit explains. “Want to go up and take a look?”
Everyone agrees to go. We’re laughing and joking, moving out across the field, when Morning shoots Anton a look. He gives the barest nod and I feel a chill run down my spine. He’s been ready to go at a moment’s notice for days. It feels impossible that he might actually launch back into space. This could change everything. As we walk, Alex slows so he’s stride for stride with Anton. He reaches out and takes Anton’s hand in his. For just a second, they look like two boys walking down the streets of Bogotá. Like a touch of hands has dragged them both through space, back to the place Alex calls home. It’s a glimpse of some unwritten future with Alex guiding Anton through the streets he knows best and sharing a life free of Babel’s shadow.
In the here and now, all of that feels so far away. I watch, and the two of them say their silent goodbye with each step, each not knowing if the other will be safe where he’s headed.
One by one, we climb the ladder of the silo. Jazzy panics halfway up, and Azima has to shove her on from behind. A catwalk circles the silo, and a command from Kit has the roof retracting. We all stare down at the endless stacks of nyxia. Just a bunch of poor kids who Babel thought they could manipulate. I try to remember that we did this. We earned this.
“So that’s what thirty billion dollars looks like?” Katsu asks.
“I could buy an entire country with that kind of money,” Jaime says.
There’s this undeniable moment where we’re all kids again. Smiles trace their way through the group, and everyone imagines what it would be like to be that rich.
“I would buy a football team,” Omar says. “Barcelona, maybe?”
“I was going to say the same thing!” Noor exclaims, smiling wide. “Except Barcelona? Are you out of your mind? Come on you, Gunners! Give me Arsenal any day.”
Longwei smiles. “I would start my own company. Move to Shanghai.”
Azima leans forward excitedly. “I want to buy Victoria Falls. Once they’re mine, I’ll name them something else. A name that doesn’t taste so much like milk.”
“Can you buy waterfalls?” Jaime asks.
Azima looks confused. “I thought we were playing a game.”
“We were,” Parvin says kindly. “I would buy a zoo. I’ve always wanted a zoo. And I know Holly can’t answer for herself right now ….”
We all glance that way. Holly’s climbed the tower with us, obedient as ever, but she’s staring off into the distance, seemingly unaware. Parvin takes her friend’s hand in hers.
“But she always talked about using her winnings to start a boxing school in Ireland. Girls only.” Parvin smiles. “So for now, let’s say she’d start hundreds of boxing schools. She’d make a whole generation of girls with a right hook just like hers.”
Quiet nods of agreement make their way around the circle. Beside Parvin, Alex runs a hand through his blond curls when he realizes it’s his turn.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I’d let hungry kids eat whatever they want, I guess.”
There’s something about the way his jaw tightens, about the way he avoids eye contact after he says it, that crushes me. To his right, Jazzy’s cheeks blossom a bright red.
“Well, I’m embarrassed. I was going to buy an amusement park.”
“It’s cool,” Alex says. “Just let the kids from my thing have free tickets, yeah?”
She nods her agreement. That leaves Katsu, Morning, and me. I can feel the others waiting for us to say something, but I don’t want to talk about what I want to buy. It hurts too much to know it’ll never happen. Babel promised they’d make me rich, but even that prize money is starting to feel like a pipe dream.
I know Babel’s given my parents a few payments, but what happens if the money stops? What happens if we fail? I had dreams of going back and being a millionaire, sure. I wanted to help the people in my neighborhood. I wanted to go back and carve something better out of what I left behind. Why dream of that, though, if I can’t even make the little dreams come true?
Morning’s watching me like she knows exactly what I’m thinking. She looks down at the pile of money and shakes her head like it’s just tainted treasure. We’re both saved from the awkwardness of answering by Katsu, who laughs loud enough to shake the railings.
“Three words,” he says. “Huge. Tower. Of Jell-O.”
Azima pats his shoulder gently. “That’s four words, Katsu.”
“You’re no longer invited. The rest of you can come.”
The whole group laughs at that. I can’t say how thankful I am for Katsu’s jokes, for Morning’s smile. Looking around the tower, I realize these faces are the only thing I’m still fighting for out here. There’s Moms and Pops back home. Earth waits like some distant, guarded prize. But it’s these faces that keep me breathing and fighting. It’s these people who will stand shoulder to shoulder with me in whatever fight’s waiting for us.
The only outsider, Kit, leads us back down the silo. No one comments, but everyone notices that one member of the Genesis crew isn’t with us. We might never know what Anton would have spent all that money on. If I had to guess, I imagine he’d use it on a few good knives.
I imagine him, squirreled away somewhere inside the silo, waiting to launch back up into space right under Babel’s nose. The rest of the group follows Morning’s instructions. For the next hour, we create chaos. Games in the common space. Exploring the other hives. Asking Kit to walk us around the base. We force ourselves to move and move and move until the launch sequence activates. When it happens, we all stop and stare.
Except for Alex. I see him walking back to his room, his face full of grief.
No one asks if it worked. No one looks at Morning. We make sure that Anton’s name stays out of our mouths. We watch as the massive pod streaks up through the atmosphere, and we offer up silent prayers that Anton can do the impossible.
I can’t help smiling. Babel has no idea what’s coming for them.
Chapter 16
The Babel Files
Katherine Ford
My day begins at four in the morning and consists of thirty-minute intervals.
Review shipments. Meet executives. Phone China. Approve flight patterns. Email specifications to Roman. Memorize speeches. And then there is the current square: lunch.
A hopeful label, but lunch is rarely ever lunch. There are no signs of seared tuna or gorgonzola salad on my desk. Lunch consists, instead, of the day’s fourth coffee and a buffet of reports. What didn’t deserve its own square has been relegated here. A pendulum counts off the seconds as I glance through the latest analysis of media intelligence.
Approval rates are soaring. Defoe’s plan effectively flipped the reporters who wrote the Babel Files. Their new documentary has been nominated for awards after making a splash on every major network. Interviews with the families of the winning contestants. How has the money already changed their lives?
Each redemptive narrative strengthens our case. Our harshest critics are starting to sound desperate and unfeeling. When Jeremiah Atwater weeps in his interview, the nation cries with him. Poverty can be beaten. Cancer can be battled. Even the lowly can rise. To the press, we are darlings again. The bright promise of our past finally fulfilled. Thankfully, the truth of what we’ve done hides in wormholes only we can access.
A second report details our own leaks regarding nyxia. BBC
announces it as a solution to impending epidemics. Other reports explore its uses for combating consumerism or the failing field of housing development. It is the dawn of a new age, a post-scarcity future. I sign a pair of documents that will release another leaked video documenting nyxian gravity sealants. Scientists will marvel at the endless potential.
Roman Beckett slips in halfway through my second signature.
“Ready for space?” he asks.
“All packed up. And we won’t have any surprises this time?”
“One mistake and I’m the baby brother again,” he laments. “No surprises. I spent all night looking through phone calls and surveillance. There’s no one in on this one. Only the families know.”
“Good,” I say, handing him a folder. “The early reports look promising. We’ve been on planet for a week and the estimated take is already sixty-three billion.”
“Call me when it’s over one hundred,” Roman replies. “How’s plan A doing?”
“We have no idea. You know how our surveillance works there. We’ve got eyes on the bases we built and little else. The tech helps, but the Adamites adapt quickly.”
“It’s the difference between billions and trillions.”
“We haven’t mined nyxia in twelve years. This mission is already a success.”
He pauses. “Does it make sense for you to leave?”
I frown, scanning notes. It doesn’t make sense. But this is the plan we set out years ago. Babel’s getting ready to reach down and pluck the forbidden fruit. It’s always been agreed that I should run that part of the show from the Tower. Still, leaving Roman to his own devices on Earth feels like such a glaring error. So much weight on such unsteady shoulders.
“You’ll be fine. We’ve made the appropriate hires.”
He raps both knuckles on the door frame. “Well, bon voyage, then.”
I make a few final notations for Rogers to look over when he arrives. One more review of our prototypes and the amount we’re dedicating to different industries. Roman’s right. We sit on the precipice between billions and trillions. More than that. World could become worlds. Succeed, and one day people will identify themselves by what planet they were born on rather than which country.
I press a button. “Lydia, my suitcases please.”
The door opens and my secretary gestures. Two men remove the bags from a corner and vanish. Lydia hovers after they’ve gone. “Good luck, Ms. Ford.”
I smile. “Take care of yourself, Lydia. Rogers is a benevolent sort of overlord.”
The secretary nods and exits. I stand before the mirror and make minor adjustments. My business suit is dark, like smoke threaded into formal wear. A gift from Marcus. An appropriate sort of armor for what is to come.
I take a back door out. Down three flights of stairs, through two air locks, and into the bright, futuristic room. Ten faces glance up as I cross to the front. Babel officials wait there, offering their regal and important nods. I turn to address the children.
“You all know why you’re here,” I say, and my words weave out in four different languages, slithering through ears and worming down into hopeful hearts. “You were chosen to be at the forefront of the most serious space exploration known to mankind. The results of your mission will change the outlook for our species. The reward for your efforts will be beyond your imagination.”
Part II
* * *
THE GENESIS
Chapter 17
Grimgarden
Emmett Atwater
The next morning we’re all suited up, lined up, looking pristine. The group waits in front of a screen that’s descended out of one of Foundry’s interior walls. My stomach twists itself in knots as the feed statics to life. Kit presses a button and retreats to his place in the line.
Babel. Our employers, our enemies. A certain hatred snaps to life at the sight of David Requin on the screen. He smiles like he didn’t try to make us murderers. I glance over at Jaime. Kid looks ready to breathe fire.
“Good afternoon,” Requin says. “We’ve received your first shipment. The nyxian output has been beyond our early projections. Extra incentives are being sent out now. At present, each of your families has received two hundred and eighty thousand dollars. It seems your dedication is already paying off.”
No one says anything; no one smiles. The money is why we came, but we have no idea if what he’s saying is true or not. Every single one of us heard his voice on that recording. We know their true intentions; we know what’s beneath the crisp suits and fake smiles.
Morning replies diplomatically, “Thank you, sir.”
Requin swipes the air, and we can tell he’s looking at his own map of Grimgarden. His eyes trace our progress, and all the black dots that remain unconquered.
“You will continue to Myriad,” Requin says. “Most of the remaining mines are concentrated in the northeastern regions of the continent. Our systems have highlighted the safest routes through the riverways, but I’ve no doubt you’ll blaze your own trails north.”
“What about Holly?” Morning asks. “Are you aware of what happened to her?”
Requin nods slowly. “It was in Kit’s report to us. From what I understand, the plan is to treat her when you arrive in Sevenset?”
“It is,” Morning says. “But you could push that through. A word from you, and the Ima—the Adamites would escort her now.”
“She’s not a danger to you, is she?”
Morning shakes her head. “I don’t believe so.”
“And she’s still working,” Requin points out. It’s exactly the kind of heartless line I expected from him. “Let’s not break with protocol. She’ll be treated soon enough.”
I can see Morning trying to swallow her anger. She’s quick to move on to the next subject before she says something she’ll regret. “And the Adamites?”
Requin nods. “Everything has gone as expected. They have honored the Interstellar Contract. It outlines that you will spend seven days at Myriad Station. You’ll then move on to Ophelia Station for another seven days. Your stay at Foundry was slightly longer than expected, but there are provisions that address that in the contract. Please be diplomatic. You are righting the mistakes of our early negotiations. When they ask you to Sevenset, you are to accept their invitation.”
“And after Sevenset?” Morning asks calmly. “How much longer will we be mining?”
Requin offers a smile. It’s meant to be reassuring, but he looks more dangerous instead. It’s the kind of smile that’s been dredged up from the darkest corners of the ocean.
“The agreement all of you signed was for one year.”
“ ‘Was’?” Morning emphasizes the word. “Has the agreement changed?”
“It’s entirely possible you will return earlier,” Requin replies.
It takes effort to keep my hands calm and at my side. I fight the instinct to bunch them into fists. Requin is lying. Every word he says drips with promises he never intends to deliver. Doesn’t he get that we’ve scraped through the first layer of gold? All of us know now that, underneath the surface, everything Babel’s offering us is just rusted treasure.
“Our people are working through the numbers,” Requin continues. “In our business model, there’s a sustainable intake that, if reached, would allow us to conduct operations the way we desire. If your groups can produce the right amount, going home early seems likely.”
No one says a word. We’ve heard Babel talk like this before. I realize they can’t actually expect us to believe any of it. They’re smarter than that. All Requin’s doing is keeping up the cat-and-mouse game they started in space. Let things unfold. Show no tells. Always keep control.
“Is there anything else, sir?” Morning asks.
“Anton.” That one word cuts like a knife through our group. Requin’s eyes sweep through the ranks, tracing our faces for intentions and secrets. I look steel back at him. “Where did our Anton go?”
We’ve worked to spread a f
ew rumors. Kit’s overheard a couple of them, and there’s no telling what he took back to Babel. Morning shakes her head and puts on a playacted frustration.
“We had a difference of opinions.”
“Oh?” Requin arches a silver eyebrow. “Did this happen during your private meeting?”
Morning doesn’t even flinch at that accusation. “It did. Like Isadora and Ida, we believe it was Anton’s intent to move on to Sevenset and attempt to secure better … partners.”
“Better than you?” Requin asks. “Or better than us?”
“Both.” Morning lets an embarrassed shade of red color her cheeks. “If he can’t obey simple commands, follow my orders, he’s not useful to me anyway.”
Requin sifts through her words, searching for lies. After a pause, though, he nods.
“Consider his recovery a secondary mission. Isadora’s and Ida’s decision has already complicated our plans enough. I’d rather we continue following protocol in our relationship with the Adamites. It’s paramount that they allow mining operations to continue.” Requin glances through a stack of papers. “Let’s get you all moving north. Godspeed.”
The feed cuts. Our crew lifts knapsacks and follows Kit out into an overcast morning. Speaker and the other escorts wait at the boundary of the base. I blink my scouter back to the map setting and find our new location pinged there.
Kit stands there, looking like an awkward teenager who just got turned down for a prom date. He heaves the biggest sigh I’ve ever heard. “I’m totally going to miss you guys.”
There’s a second where no one really knows what to say, and then Kit turns to Longwei and wraps him in a hug. Longwei shoots us a what the hell? look over Kit’s shoulder before managing to hug him gently back. It takes a few minutes for Kit to work his way down the line, saying his goodbyes to all of us like this is the end of a damn summer camp. He even tries to give Holly a hug, though she ignores him completely.
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