by H. A. Swain
“It’s real,” says D’Cart as I step toward the levitating beverage. “We grow actual fruits and veggies in our climate-controlled greenhouses.”
“We’ve had watermelon before,” Castor says. “Our mother grows it.”
“In the desert?” asks D’Cart. “How?”
“It’s called irrigation. I diverted water,” Castor says, and it comes out snotty, like he thinks she’s stupid. “And I don’t like watermelon juice. It’s too cloying and sweet.”
“How come it’s floating?” I ask, hoping to distract D’Cart from Castor’s surliness.
“Good question,” she says, then turns to my brother. “Sounds like you’re quite the engineer. Can you explain my floating pitcher?” A smug little smile works at the corners of her mouth.
I can’t tell if she dislikes my brother or finds this back-and-forth with him entertaining. Whichever it is, the whole thing makes my stomach clench.
Castor studies the pitcher and glasses for a moment, then says, “Invisibility cloaking, I’d guess. Some kind of thin reflective film over a structure so it bends the light and appears to blend into the room.”
He reaches out to gingerly poke what must be beneath the pitcher. Lights outlining a table and six chairs slowly begin to blink.
“And sensors,” he says, nodding. “Smart. They blink when you get close, so you don’t bump into it.”
“Very good,” says D’Cart. “I’m impressed.” She pours two glasses, hands one to me, and raises hers to my brother as if in a toast. “You’re as smart as I suspected.”
“Not that smart, obviously,” says Castor. “Your SecuriBots saw right through us at the party so—”
“No they didn’t,” D’Cart says, and Castor frowns. “I saw you at the party.” She points at me. “You were by the pool deck watching.”
My stomach bottoms out, and I think I might barf up the juice I just drank.
“Awww, man,” says Castor, hands on hips and head tossed back. “I saw you look at Talitha, but I didn’t think you’d know she wasn’t one of your followers. She looked just like a Yoobie, er um, citizen shareholder. How did you know we didn’t belong?”
“Ah, well, you see, your reputation preceded you,” says D’Cart. “I know who you are from your Stream, NayRay DeDumpingCart.”
Castor and I lock eyes. I grab the table to steady myself.
“I’ve been watching you for a long time.” She slips into one of the blinking chairs and leans back, one elbow propped on the top. “Longer than you might think. You, my dear”—she points at me again—“doing a parody of me—”
“I’m so sorry,” I pant. My breath is shallow. My eyes burn. I can’t believe D’Cart knows we’ve been making fun of her all these years.
“Oh, don’t be!” she says. “Come sit.” She pats the seat beside her.
I walk on wobbly legs and take the chair as she instructs. She nods to Castor, and he does the same on the other side of the table from me.
“Your stream is very…” She pauses, then says, “Entertaining! And you’ve amassed quite a following.”
“So you like it?” Castor asks.
“Oh, yes!” she says brightly. “Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery, after all. Especially when that imitation makes some commentary on society. I love how you’ve captured the inanity of our rabid consumer culture.”
“Wow,” says Castor. “I did not see that coming.”
“I think you have a lot of potential,” she adds. “Which is why I’m ready to make you a deal.”
Castor and I glance at each other. He sits up taller, ready to say yes to anything, but I shrink in my seat. Whatever deal she offers, I remind myself, there will be more in it for her than there is for us.
D’Cart turns in her seat and points to the holo of the red MUSC SecuriDrones sweeping across the sky. “See that?”
We nod.
“I believe MUSC lost someone. A runaway, probably. It happens from time to time. If one of you can find the Moonling these drones are looking for and bring that person to me, I’ll trade you for the other twin, who stays behind.”
“How do you know there’s a runaway?” Castor asks.
“Oh, I know,” she assures us with a smirk. “Because that”—she pokes her finger toward the holo again—“is exactly what the MUSCies do when a citizen goes rogue on Earth.”
“Why not send Mundie to find them?” Castor asks.
“Him?” D’Cart jerks her thumb toward Mundie, who’s slouched against the wall, picking at his nails. “He has the charm of a rattlesnake.”
“So send a bot or your own drone,” says Castor.
I kick him under the table and whisper, “What are you doing?”
“Look,” he says, shoulders up in a shrug, “I want to know why you need one of us to do your dirty work before we accept.”
“It’s not dirty,” D’Cart says. “You’ll be doing this poor person a favor. But Moonlings can be…” She stops and searches for the word, then settles on “Skittish. Especially if this person isn’t supposed to be here. They’ll have their location software blocked, but MUSC will be looking for them, so they’ll need to hide. It’ll take a human touch, finesse, and charm to gain their trust and bring them in before MUSC finds them.”
“You should send Talitha, then,” says Mundie. “Castor couldn’t sweet-talk a honeybeebot.”
Castor ignores the jab, then asks, “Why do you want the Moonling, anyway?”
“None of your business,” says D’Cart. For once, Castor shuts up and doesn’t push for an answer. “So, who’s it going to be? Which one of you wants to stay with me? And which one wants to go?”
“I’ll go,” I say. Castor glances at me, surprised, but I nod at him and say, “It’s okay. I can do it,” because I know Mundie’s right. I’ll have a better chance at befriending and gaining the trust of a person than Castor would.
“Perfect!” says D’Cart, with her sunniest smile.
“Just one question,” I say. “How am I supposed to find someone if I have no idea who it is? Am I looking for a male or female? Old or young?”
“It can’t be that hard,” says Castor. “There’s only a handful of MUSCies in the city at any given time. And they all look the same. Creepy big eyes, protective hood. You won’t be able to miss them.”
“Plus, all the MUSCies go to the same places. The automated food marts, Soggywood for entertainment, Rodeo Drive to virtushop, the hologram zoo,” D’Cart adds. “Go poke around. Get to know who’s here. See who’s acting funny. At some point, when MUSC security is desperate, they’ll release pix and holos of the runaway. Then you can make your move before our target gets swept up by those drones.”
“Okay,” I say with as much confidence as I can muster, but the truth is, I have no idea how I’m going to pull this off. I might be the more charming one, but Castor is definitely the better planner. I turn to him. “Are you going to be okay?”
“Of course,” he says. “Mundie will take excellent care of me.” He shoots Mundie a look, which makes D’Cart laugh.
“You wish,” says Mundie.
“Ah, now, boys!” She waggles her finger at them. “We’re all on the same team here.”
Both Castor and Mundie blanch.
I look at my brother, fighting back the urge to throw myself at him and yell, I hate to be on my own! Castor senses my panic. He walks around the table and hugs me, which is odd. I know he cares about me, but he rarely shows this much affection. As he pulls me in, he whispers, “Here’s what you do: Get the knapsack and Quasar, then look for the Moonling. Try Lost Feelies, then Soggywood. That’s where they always go. And remember, keep Mundie on your side. I’ll work on D’Cart.”
I take a deep breath, hug him tight, and say, “Okay.”
Mundie pushes off the wall. “Let’s go,” he says, and takes my hand.
I swallow hard, wishing I could pull away from his grip, but Castor lets go of me while keeping his eyes trained on mine. I know what he
’s telling me. I have to work every angle. Keep all our options open. Especially when it comes to Mundie.
“Take her to a back exit,” D’Cart says. “I don’t want any of my followers to see her leaving.”
“Got it,” says Mundie.
He keeps me close to his side with my hand trapped in his sweaty palm the whole way down to the first floor in the elevator. I grit my teeth and let him.
“You know I’ll help you, right?” he says. “Anything you need, just ask.”
“I need you to keep Castor safe,” I say.
Mundie’s face hardens. “He never wanted my help before—”
“Please,” I ask more softly, and give his hand a squeeze, which makes me feel like I’m covered in dirt. “For me?”
“Fine,” he says. “I’ll do what I can.”
The elevator doors open, and we walk through a huge room filled with all kinds of dead-eyed robots. I stare at the floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with overflowing bins of metal appendages, faceplates, wiring, and circuitry.
When we reach the back door, Mundie grabs me by the shoulders. He breathes hard, and his face is flushed. “This whole thing has all been so strange! Seeing you get nabbed. Not knowing what D’Cart would do with you, and now this!”
“Yeah, well, strange is right.” I try to squirm away, but Mundie tugs hard on me. Before I can stop him, he pulls me in and kisses me on the lips. That kiss stings and I want to get away, but I know Castor’s safety rests with Mundie, so I stand there, stiff and sick to my stomach for a few seconds before I wriggle free, wiping the back of my hand across my mouth and trying not to spit.
“Okay, so,” he says, eye blazing and a stupid smile plastered across his face. “I’ll be in touch soon!” He swings open the back door and pushes me into the waning light of evening.
UMA JEMISON
ALPHAZONIA, EARTH
TRANSMISSION FROM KEPLER, Darshan says, and I nearly fall down in the middle of the empty road with relief. “Kep! Kepler! I’m so glad it’s you! I thought I was busted!” I shout as I hustle toward the waiting Pod.
Only, Kepler doesn’t show up on my Lenz. Instead, a raw feed opens.
I command the car to go, then sit back and squint at the unsteady and grainy feed being transmitted. It takes me a few seconds to realize that Kep has opened his personal Stream to me so that I can see and hear what he sees and hears, but we can’t communicate directly. It’s strangely unsettling not to see his face or read his thotz. I feel so far away and disconnected. I squint at the room I’m seeing on my Lenz, trying to figure out where he is. Down on the surface? At TourEsa? Then I see a blurry orange zinnia plant and realize that he’s inside Dr. Fornax’s office, where I sat less than twenty-four hours ago. And Kepler’s not alone.
He looks to his left, and I see a holo of my mother, pinched and rumpled in her mining gear, like she’s been woken up too early or, more likely, never went to sleep. My mother yells and paces, throwing her arms around, while Dr. Fornax sits, ramrod straight at her desk, hands folded in front of her.
Volume up, I command Darshan.
My mom’s voice comes through loud and clear. “I don’t believe this! With all the technology you have—cameras, body scans, retinal recognition, ThoughtStream chips that record our every experience—she got on board and went to Earth. Without anybody knowing! How is that possible?”
“Uh-oh,” I murmur.
“He knew,” Dr. Fornax says, pointing at Kepler.
My mother shouts, “Why didn’t you tell someone, Kepler?”
Since I can’t see him, I can only imagine how he looks, shamefaced, head hanging, shoulders hunched. “The system let her on so she thought maybe Dr. Fornax changed her mind,” he mutters, covering for me.
“She ran away,” Dr. Fornax snaps.
“No!” My mother spins around and jabs her finger toward Fornax, making her flinch. “You messed up. You didn’t tell me that you canceled her trip and then your system failed by allowing her on the flight!”
“My orders were clear,” Dr. Fornax says, her face stony. “I told her not to go, but she deliberately and knowingly disobeyed me.”
My stomach churns as I shrink in my seat. I knew this would be bad, but maybe not this bad.
“How are you going to get her back?” Mom asks.
“First, we have to find her,” Dr. Fornax says. “Which won’t be a problem. Our SecuriDrones are already looking. Her implant will work on Earth, so we’ll override her privacy settings and—”
“She doesn’t have an implant,” my mother says.
“Why not?” Dr. Fornax asks, as if offended.
“Because,” my mother says, standing tall as she levels her gaze straight at the MUSC CEO. “I didn’t want her under your thumb.”
“What?” I say aloud, then press my hands over my mouth, afraid that they’ll hear me. All these years, my mother told me we didn’t have enough money for an implant, but the truth was, she didn’t want me to have one!
Dr. Fornax shifts uncomfortably. “Well … that’s not a problem. We can initiate contact with whatever kind of device she uses.”
“Oh, no!” I sit up tall, wondering if I should rip the device off my head or get out of the car and run into the tangle of vine-covered palm trees and dilapidated houses lining the road.
Then Kepler asks a question that I don’t hear, but both my mom and Dr. Fornax whip around to face him.
“What did you say?” Dr. Fornax asks.
“I said, what if she takes off her communication device?” His words are slow and clear and deliberate.
“Why would she do that?” Dr. Fornax asks. “Without a device, she won’t have any currency or a way to communicate. She’d have no Stream and won’t be able to get around.”
“In fact,” Kep says, “she could take off her protective hood and her flight suit, too. Since she was born down there, she has plenty of white blood cells, plus natural immunity to Earth viruses and bacteria.” Then very slowly and carefully, he says, “If she wanted to, she could blend right in on Earth, couldn’t she?”
I gasp. Is he right? Could I pass for an Earthling after all these years away?
“She won’t do that,” Dr. Fornax insists.
My mother fixes her jaw tight and shakes her head. “She will if she doesn’t want to be found.”
Dr. Fornax draws in a tight breath and says to my mother, “I need your permission to override all privacy settings and break into her Stream right now.”
My mother sighs, but then she nods and says, “Go ahead, you have my permission.”
“Thumbprint,” Fornax says.
My mother holds up her thumb to be scanned, and instantly Kep’s feed on my Lenz is overtaken by Valentine Fornax.
“Uma?” she says. “Uma Jemison?”
My mother’s holo crowds the view. The deep lines etched from the edges of her nose to her chin make her look as if she’s cut from wood. “Uma, are you there?” I can hear the desperation in her voice. “Can you hear us?”
For a moment, I sit, paralyzed. I’ve never broken this many rules before. I know what Kepler is telling me—that I could command the car to stop right now in this hilly area dotted with ruined houses. I could get out, ditch my device, go down to where the people are, and blend in with the Earthlings. But if I do that, my mom will worry herself sick.
I take a deep breath and say, “I’m here.”
“Oh thank god!” Mom lets go an enormous sigh.
“You are in a world of trouble!” Dr. Fornax rages at me. “You had direct orders not to board that Shuttle.”
“The system welcomed me aboard. I thought maybe you changed your mind,” I say, even though it’s a lie.
Fornax looks at me, one eyebrow up, silently calling my bluff.
“Okay, fine,” I say, voice shaky. “I left, but you had no right to cancel my trip when I did nothing wrong.”
Fornax guffaws. “I have every right to do whatever I think is best for people in my employ.”
“You don’t know what’s best for me,” I snap at her, then sit back, surprised by my outburst.
“Where are you?” Dr. Fornax commands.
The car slows to wind around a gentle curve beneath a line of evenly spaced palm trees swaying under the darkening blue sky.
“I think you know,” I say, because I’m not an idiot. “Surely you’re tracking me by now.”
The car pulls into a half-moon driveway and stops in front of a gigantic pink building with a black-and-white-striped awning. “You have arrived,” the car announces.
“Initiate contact with transportation device,” Dr. Fornax commands some bot in her system.
“Contact initiating,” the system announces. “AutoPod detected. Commandeer vehicle in thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight…”
Dr. Fornax looks at me and says, “This AutoPod will immediately return you to the Shuttle launch site, where you will wait for the next return Shuttle to MUSC.”
“Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen…”
“No!” I say, with my heart in my throat.
“Ten, nine, eight…”
“Doors open!” I command, and it works! I beat the bot. I jump out, looking for any place to run and hide. In front of me is a giant bush overflowing with purple blossoms.
“Get back in that AutoPod!” Dr. Fornax yells at me from my Lenz.
The good girl in me almost does as I am told, but something inside me snaps. “No! I won’t,” I say. “I’ve waited for this for too long. I’ve made it this far, and I’m not going back. Not yet.” I run across the soft and springy grass.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Dr. Fornax shouts. “You already disobeyed a direct order from me. You’ve lost the privilege to be there.”
I stop and shout, “I’ve done everything right. Followed every rule. Never been a problem. Now I want a break! I need to get away from my life on MUSC for a little bit. That’s what’s best for me, and you can’t take that away!”
Dr. Fornax stiffens. I can tell I hit a nerve. I don’t know what it is, maybe being so far from home, maybe the Earth air filling my lungs, but I feel bold, and I start to rant. “Just once, I want to know what it feels like to belong. For people not to stare at me and ask stupid questions because I’m a Zero Gen on the Moon!”
