SuperMoon

by H. A. Swain

  “You think you’re going to fit in down there?” my mother says incredulously. “Uma, you’re not a Yoobie. We’re from the Wastelands, which is why we left in the first place. We needed a ticket out for you, or you would have withered away, wasting all that intellect either as a conscripted soldier in a senseless war with Merica or picking up trash in the Wastelands. I might disagree with how Dr. Fornax is handling this situation—” She cuts her eyes to Fornax, and I wonder whose side she’s on. “But the truth is, MUSC saved us a lifetime of heartache, and we owe Dr. Fornax our lives.”

  “Your mother’s right,” Fornax says. “Your family gave up literally everything on Earth to make a safe life for you on MUSC.”

  “Safe?” I scoff. “My father died working for you!”

  My mother winces and looks away.

  “Your father’s death was deeply unfortunate,” Dr. Fornax says. “A freak accident. We rarely have such fatalities. He was given a proper MUSC tethering in the field of the dead to honor him for his work.”

  In my mind, I see the silver pinwheel that is my father stuck on the far side of the moon, and I think that he wouldn’t want me to give in so easily. Swim, Uma, swim, he yelled at me when I jumped into the ocean and the undertow dragged me away from the pier. I kicked and fought to make it back to the safety of his arms. You’re a fighter, he told me. Never give up on anything.

  “That’s not enough,” I say.

  “You’re not thinking clearly!” Dr. Fornax tells me. “If something happens to you, your mother will be forced to return to Earth. You wouldn’t want that on your shoulders, would you?”

  My mother’s eyes flash. “Don’t you put that on her. I’m not Uma’s responsibility.”

  “No, but she is my responsibility,” Dr. Fornax says. “I took a chance on your family. I spent a lot of money on your education, and I expect obedience in return.”

  I see my mother grit her teeth at the word obedience.

  “You only say that because we’re Zero Gens,” I shout, knowing she would never say such a thing to a Second or Third Gen Moonling.

  “You’re right,” Mom says. “But, Uma, life is a series of trade-offs. Yes, you are a Zero Gen on the Moon, and that means you have to work twice as hard and be twice as good to get half as much.” She pauses, no doubt to let her statement resonate with Dr. Fornax. “But that’s just the way it is. The truth is, we’re the lucky ones, and we should be grateful—”

  “No!” I shout. “I will not be grateful. I’ve waited so long to get here!” I spin, taking in all the vibrant colors of the Earth. The greenness of the grass. A bank of purple and red and yellow flowers. Bumblebees and butterflies. A dragonfly or two. Ants and flies and a shimmering spiderweb caught in the filter of the sun. Although part of me thinks I should obey Dr. Fornax and my mother, another bigger part takes over, and I say, “I’m not going to leave. Not yet. I’m going to take my trip for twenty-eight days like I was promised, like I deserve, then I’ll return to MUSC and dedicate myself to my LWA like the good, obedient Zero Gen girl I’ve always been.” I root my feet on the ground. “I’ve come too far. I’ve waited too long. I’m not letting you take this away from me.”

  Suddenly, Kepler’s face looms into Dr. Fornax’s frame. “Go, Uma!” he yells. “Don’t let them stop you! Take off your suit. Ditch your device. Go! Go! Go!”

  Dr. Fornax elbows him out of the way, but I know he’s right. It’s what I’ve got to do. Without waiting, I run toward the giant bush, unzipping my hood. My hair springs out in all directions. Unfiltered Earth air overtakes me, and it is glorious. Warm and moist! It fills my lungs with brown and green and yellow, smells so deep and earthy that I can taste them. I whoop with delight and run into the bush while unzipping my flight suit. I duck beneath thick, waxy leaves and pull my arms out of the sleeves. One catches on a branch. I keep going, letting the whole suit strip down off my hips and past my knees. I step out and go deeper, looking for a place to stash my device until I want it again. My brain is scrambling to process the jumble of images, colors, and scents. I can barely make out what’s in front of me, but I think I see a wall.

  “I will find you!” Dr. Fornax threatens. “And when you return to MUSC, there will be consequences. Don’t expect a Life’s Work Assignment that you hoped for or a step up in your domicile…” She continues, but I ignore her.

  “I love you, Mom! Please don’t be mad!” I shout. “Thank you, Kepler! I’ll see you all in twenty-eight days! Darshan, off!” I say, then I rip the device from my head and hurl it away.

  TALITHA NEVA

  ALPHAZONIA, EARTH

  I STUMBLE ONTO a cracked concrete ramp behind the Pink Palace cluttered with robot scraps and broken furniture. Scurrying like a rat, I slip between rows of dumpsters full of stinking trash from last night’s party. Food waste, disposable cutlery, Gem Water bottles that have lost their sparkle, biodegradable tablecloths that will never see the sun, all waiting to be hauled out to the Wastelands and picked through by another version of me.

  In the distance, I hear the familiar rumble and beep of automated trash trucks making their rounds. That sound defines my childhood. Endless trucks, like a line of ants, carrying detritus from AlphaZonia to the Dumps. Castor and I reversed the flow when we came into the Palace yesterday.

  As I skirt inside the brick security wall to the front of the building, I hear some kind of commotion on the lawn. A person yelling. Ranting, really, but I can’t make out the words. Probably some Yoobie reality drama—a breakup or product-placement war. When I get to the far edge of the big bush where we hid last night, I push through the thicket, moving branches out of the way with my shoulders.

  “Quasar! Quasar!” I whisper-yell. “Come here, boy!”

  The leaves are cool and waxy against my cheeks, but Quasar is nowhere to be found. Obviously the dog took off. Probably spooked by the sonic booms earlier this evening, or maybe he just got hungry and went to find some food. Now I’ll have to find him.

  I drop down to my hands and knees to search the ground for Castor’s red knapsack, half buried under leaves. I find it quickly, then strip off the stupid Kinematic Jumpsuit and shove it into the bag. My skin tingles with relief as I put on my soft pants and shirt. Next, I remove the PEST and the other Wearables Castor gave me last night and reattach my old, beat-up device to my head, then wait for it to boot up. Years ago, Castor injected a crude RFID chip under Quasar’s skin that connects to my device. Half the time it doesn’t work, but it’s my best chance to find him. Then I won’t be alone. Like Quasar, I want my pack together before I go off in search of this Moonling. I strap the bag across my shoulders, then just as I’m about to leave, I hear more shouting.

  I press myself against the wall, trying not to make a sound as I creep away. The bushes rustle, and I stop. Then something flies past and smacks the wall behind me.

  “What the hell?” I yell as I duck.

  Ahead of me, someone crashes through the brush. I cower, half expecting SecuriBot tentacles to wrap around my arms and legs and drag me back inside. What if D’Cart just changed her mind? What if Castor pissed her off? But it’s not a bot. A person skids to a stop and crashes sideways into a tangle of branches. When she sees me, she screams. I scream back. We both stand stock-still, eyes locked, screaming like a couple of idiots.

  Then I stop. There’s no reason for me to be afraid. This girl is not a SecuriBot. Or even a Yoobie. In fact, she’s about my age, with warm brown skin and springy dark curls. She’s obviously not from around here, though. She’s wearing some kind of strange silver fitted pants made of close-knit mesh with a short-sleeved silver shirt the likes of which I’ve never seen.

  “Oh, my gad! Oh, my gad!” The girl sucks in giant gulps of air. One hand is pressed against her chest; the other clings to the branches so she won’t fall over. “I didn’t expect to see anyone. What are you doing in here?”

  “What are you doing in here?” I shoot back.

  “I … I … I…” She looks around w
ildly. “I got lost.”

  “Oh,” I say, caught off guard. “Did you lose your group? Are you with a tour?”

  She looks up to scan the darkening sky. A few early evening stars have appeared. “Sort of,” she says. “Not really. I’m not with a group.” She switches her gaze to me. “Can you help me?”

  “No, I’m sorry,” I say, and turn away. “I have to find my dog.”

  “A dog?” She jumps after me and clamps her hand on my arm. Her touch startles me, and I whip around to face her.

  “Let go!” I say.

  “No, wait! Was he about this big?” She holds up her hand to her knee. “Brown and white. Little pointy ears with a white star between his eyes and a fluffy white tail?”

  “Yes!” I say, blinking back my surprise. “You saw him?”

  “I did!”

  I feel electricity pass between us. Goose bumps rise on my skin when a smile breaks across her face like sunlight through a morning haze. I realize then that she’s beautiful. Beneath her curls, she has large, deep-set eyes the color of moss with flecks of gold.

  “He was up the hill. By some buildings? Or houses? I don’t know, but I could show you! Come on! I’ll take you there.”

  She takes off, and I follow, because if this girl can lead me straight to Quasar, then I can start looking for the Moonling sooner.

  We pop out of the bush, and she points at the winding road leading up into the hills. “This way! Come on!”

  We both charge uphill, but neither of us lasts long at that pace. The steep incline kills my thighs, and soon I’m doubled over, panting. She trudges behind me, even more out of breath than I am.

  “Where is he? Come on!” I beg the tracking device. “I need one thing to go right today!”

  “You and me both!” the girl says.

  I walk up the hill with the strange girl beside me, betting that Quasar is headed toward Aurelia in the Wildlands of ’Fith.

  “Wow, wow, wow!” The girl turns in a circle, arms wide. “I can’t get over how beautiful this place is! Everything here is glorious and amazing and … and…”

  I look at her, spinning like a little kid. “Did you have your dopamine regulator hacked or something? Because I don’t want any trouble.”

  She stops spinning. “My what?”

  “No offense, but you seem far too excited over everything, and I can’t afford to be an accomplice right now.” I start to walk away.

  But the girl laughs. “Oh, gad. Sorry. I didn’t hack anything.” She jogs to catch up with me again. “And I don’t have a dopamine pump or whatever you said. It’s just that I’m not from here, and I’m sort of overwhelmed, and—”

  “Yeah, that’s obvious. Where did you come from? One World?”

  She shakes her head.

  “The Distract?”

  She shakes it again.

  “Democratic Republic of New Yorkistan?”

  “No, no, none of those,” she assures me.

  “Oh,” I say, and understand. “So, you’re from Merica?”

  “Uh … um…” She hesitates. Probably embarrassed to admit it.

  “Listen, I don’t care where you’re from. The Water Wars are stupid, if you ask me,” I say, and she looks relieved.

  “I’m just a tourist,” she says. “I wanted to go to the Pink Palace, where RayNay DeShoppingCart lives.”

  Now I laugh.

  “Why’s that funny?”

  “First off, you need an invite to go there. Even the Yoobies can’t just show up. And secondly, nobody calls her by her full name. We just say D’Cart.” We crest the hill and walk more easily.

  “Like the philosopher?”

  “The who?”

  “René Descartes. Mr. I-Think-Therefore-I-Am? Father of Dualism?”

  I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “Never heard of him. The only D’Cart I know literally owns this town.” I motion to the city spread out below us.

  “Right. I consume, therefore I am.” The girl chuckles.

  “Yes, that’s their motto.”

  “Don’t you think that’s ridiculous?” she asks.

  “Oh, yeah. Definitely!” I say. “But, you know, in Yoobie minds, buying stuff is what distinguishes them from the robots and the people in the Wastelands, who have no income. Being a consumer makes them feel human.”

  “Sounds like an empty life to me,” she says, and shakes her head, and I like her a little more.

  We come to a streak of garbage strewn in front of a house. “Look at that.” I crouch down, searching for paw prints in the muck. “Obviously, something has been by here recently.”

  “Your dog?” she asks.

  “Maybe,” I say. “Or cats or coyotes?” I shudder at the thought. Little Quasar believes that he’s mightier than his size. He’d pick a fight with a mountain lion, but of course he’d never win.

  “But I was miles from here when I saw him,” she says, standing up to look around. “Closer to some kind of park or something.”

  Just then, a tiny blip quivers on my map. “There he is!” I shout.

  “Where?” the girl shouts back. She spins and ducks and looks all around.

  “On my map!” I tell her as I poke at the Glaz over my right eye. I move around, dancing from foot to foot to find a better signal. The blip is faint and cuts out for several seconds, then comes back. “Map! Zoom in!” I command before I lose his signal again.

  The map enlarges fifty percent, and I see that he’s in the Wildlands of ’Fith. “Yep. Just what I thought.” I take off up the road but stop when a yellow AutoPod cruises around the curve ahead of us.

  “Look out!” the girl yells, and tries to grab me, but I step into its path with my arms out.

  “Jack-a-Pod!” I say, and Castor’s hijacking app installed on my device works like a charm. Some rando’s data he’s uploaded tells the Pod to screech to a stop and the door to open.

  “Hello, Braga Tralluri,” it says. “Where would you like to go?”

  “Share location,” I tell my device as I climb in.

  The girl stays at my heels, blocking the door so it won’t close. “Please, can I come with you?” she asks. “I want to make sure your dog is okay.”

  The late-evening sun hits her from behind, sending golden rays of light through her corkscrew curls so that she radiates a sense of warmth that I rarely see in AlphaZonia. I should say no. I don’t know her at all, but she looks so sincere. So worried about Quasar. And honestly, she seems so lost that I feel bad leaving her on her own. Plus, the truth is, I don’t want to be alone, so I say, “Come on. Get in.”

  “Thank you! Thank you so much.” She climbs aboard.

  The blip from my map transfers to the Pod’s AutoNav system, and we make a U-turn, then head northeast.

  “So, your name is Braga?” she asks.

  “No … um…” I stutter, not wanting to explain how my brother hijacks data packets. “That’s someone else. I’m Talitha.”

  “Talitha?” She laughs with disbelief.

  “Why’s that funny?”

  “Because my name is Uma.”

  “And…?” I lean away, regretting that I let her come with me. Do I hate to be alone so much that I’d let a stranger come with me? Or am I just a sucker for a cute girl?

  “I’m named for Ursa Major—the greater bear constellation. There’s a star called Talitha on my constellation’s front paw.”

  “Did you just make that up?”

  “No, not at all—it’s true! Look it up on your device! You are a star in my constellation.”

  A little ripple travels down my spine. “Uma and Talitha, hmmm?”

  “Yes.” She laughs, delighted. “Our meeting was written in the stars!”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” I say, but I have to look away because I’m probably blushing.

  “Well, however it happened, I’m really lucky I met you, because my plans got all screwed up and I’m kind of lost, but I don’t care because this place is miraculous! Look at all of th
e plant life! And the colors! And the smells!” She jabs her finger against the window, pointing at everything outside. “You’re so lucky to live here!”

  I snort. “Lucky if you’re a Yoobie, which I’m not.”

  “What are you, then?”

  “Well…” I try to find the right word. “I guess I’m just a girl.”

  “Oh, I like that!” Uma smiles, and I’m struck by her beauty again. “That’s what I am, too. Just a girl. On a trip. Trying to find my way.”

  I nod at her but think to myself, Oh, dear, she’s so much more than just a girl. Then I shake myself to refocus on what Castor told me: First the knapsack—check! Now Quasar. Then to Lost Feelies and Soggywood to look for the Moonling. This girl has no place in my plan.

  From the surface street, we cross beneath the 101 transportation tube. AutoPods zip by overhead, flashing like phosphorescent animals in the sea.

  “I think I was up there earlier,” Uma says.

  “If you came from outside the city, you were,” I tell her. “That’s the only way in.” Then I add, “Legally, that is.”

  “Oh, look!” she says, giddy like a little kid. “It’s me! A she bear!” She points out the window at a bear statue, standing upright on hind legs with paws out as if forever guarding the old entrance of what was once a park. “FITH P K?” she reads what’s left of the letters on an old sign we pass.

  “That’s the Wildlands of ’Fith.” I point at the hills separating AlphaZonia from the Wastelands. “My dog’s up there.” I take over the nav system and steer the Pod up a winding path lined with ruins of old houses to get as close as possible to the city-Wildlands boundary, then I pull over and idle on the side of the road.

  “Why are we stopping?” Uma asks.

  “The AutoPods won’t go inside the Wildlands.” I grab the knapsack and climb out of the car.

  Uma follows. We stand side by side, facing the steep hill. “Whoa,” she says, her mouth open.

  “Yeah, it’s a bit of a hike,” I tell her. “You can have the AutoPod if you want.” I feel a twinge of disappointment at the thought of saying good-bye to her, even though we just met and she’s a bit strange and she’ll slow me down if she stays with me.