The Last Girl on Earth

by Alexandra Blogier

  “Not really.” He shrugs. “We weren’t allowed to go off base much, because of all the civil unrest.”

  “I didn’t know we had a base there at all,” I say.

  “It’s a temporary base, set up as part of the peacekeeping mission,” he says. “Well, the Forces call it peacekeeping, but really what they’re doing is quelling a revolution.”

  I blink, not accustomed to hearing anyone talk like this. Abdoloreans don’t question their missions.

  “What do you mean?” I ask.

  “Tularans have had the same leader for almost a hundred years,” he says. “They rose up against her and our government sent in troops, all because we have an alliance with her. It’s basically an invasion, just no one’s calling it that.”

  The train rushes into the station and we slide into the seats, facing each other.

  “What about you, though?” he asks. “How long have you lived here?”

  “My family came right after Repopulation,” I say. “We left Abdolora when I was really young. I don’t remember anything about it.”

  I’ve said this so many times in my life, it almost feels true.

  “Do you ever go back?”

  I shake my head.

  “We go back sometimes,” Ryn tells me as the train begins to move. “Whenever my dad needs to report to Mission Control. We never stay very long, though.”

  I squint into the distance, trying to think of something else to say. The city glitters as it comes into view, its light refracting off the water, splitting into a thousand pieces scattered over the waves.

  “What’s it like, moving around so much?” I ask him.

  “It can be lonely, but I’ve never known anything else,” he says. “I’ve just learned not to get too used to places.”

  It strikes me that Ryn and I are alike. He doesn’t let himself get attached to the planets he’s lived on, I don’t let myself get close to people around me. I’ve had years of learning how to keep my distance, how to stay apart. Some days it feels like I’m adrift, wandering through the world.

  I watch Ryn as he looks down at the water below. I study the way his hands move when he speaks.

  “So Conscription isn’t such a big deal,” I say. “I mean, spending seven years on some random planet isn’t so crazy for you.”

  Ryn shrugs. “That part doesn’t bother me,” he says.

  “There’s a part that does?” I ask.

  “I’m not so into the idea of being in the Forces at all, really,” he says. “I don’t believe in a lot of what they do.”

  I flinch. No one I know has ever said something like this. A lifetime of following the rules, of blending in, of assimilation, wraps around me in cold comfort. No one is near us, but still, the thought that someone could have heard him scares me.

  The train pulls into the station and we step off and turn down the street. Ryn moves easily through the crowds, like he barely notices the people around him. He picks two flowers from a honeysuckle vine and hands one to me. I bite into it lightly, the nectar just a drop on my tongue.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, suddenly aware that I have no idea where he’s taking me.

  “You’ll see,” he says, smiling.

  We head to the eastern side of the city, past the shopping center known as the Emporium, farther out to where the buildings edge up against lush open fields. I realize that we’re walking to the Biodome, a glass-domed structure that houses the last surviving animals in the Bay. My father used to bring Zo and me here when we were younger. He thought it was important for me to see the way the Earth once was. It always touched me, how he tried to give me glimpses into the past. It was like we were paying our respects to what came before us, to the ways that humans lived.

  Ryn and I wander quietly through the exhibits, stopping in front of a field of cows. There are at least a hundred of them scattered across the grass, majestic in their own way. They flick their tails lazily and stomp their hooves in the dirt. I reach up and press my hand against the glass, as though I can touch them, as though I can trace their spots with my fingers.

  “I can’t believe humans farmed animals the way they did,” Ryn says, gazing out at the cows.

  I nod, saying nothing, staying neutral. Everyone around us gapes at the cows, murmuring to one another.

  “I don’t get it at all,” he continues. “The essential cruelty of it, the way it completely destroyed the land.”

  “I don’t think they knew any better,” I blurt out, thinking back to the examination. “By the time they figured out how damaged Earth was, they didn’t know how to change their ways.”

  A tall woman standing nearby glares at me. “What are they teaching in school these days?” she mutters under her breath as she wanders off.

  Ryn rolls his eyes in solidarity, then tilts his head slightly, and I know he’s considering what I’ve just said. I swallow, hard. It’s not like me at all to say how I feel. But something about being with Ryn makes me want to reveal my feelings, to be listened to. Still, maybe I said too much, went too far.

  “I mean, I don’t think the way they lived was right,” I backpedal, my face flushing. “I just think they didn’t know how else to exist here, the way we do.”

  He nods, then touches my arm, the gentle pressure of his fingers lingering on my skin after he takes his hand away.

  “Come on,” he says. “I want to show you something.”

  We walk through the entrance of the Ocean Hall, its light blue-tinged and dim. Kelp and starfish line the walls. The room is filled with replicas of animal life, shimmering projections of whales leaping, their songs low and mournful. It feels like we’re underwater, back when the ocean was full, before the bomb. Ryn points to a fossil, the imprint of some fish, its skeleton pressed into the slate.

  “I wish I knew what it was like to live here before,” he says. “It must have been amazing, so many different creatures filling Earth.”

  I look at the fossil, studying the splay of its fins, the delicate spread of its spine, the empty circle where its eye once was. I know how Ryn feels. I used to dream about living on Earth when there was wildlife, when birds flew through the air and bugs squirmed through the dirt. How magical it must have been, how truly and completely alive.

  “They’re working on repopulating the ocean,” I tell him. “They think in a few years, the radiation will be at low-enough levels that they can reintroduce at least some of the marine life that died out.”

  Ryn’s eyes shine with excitement.

  “That’s exactly the kind of project I want to be a part of,” he says.

  “You should do it,” I say. “After Conscription, I mean.”

  His face falls, and he lifts one shoulder in a shrug.

  “I don’t think so.” He sounds defeated.

  He’s quiet, watching the fossil as if it can move, speak.

  “All I’ve ever wanted is to be a marine biologist,” he says finally. “But my dad expects me to do exactly what he’s done—become a commander and spend the rest of my life in the Forces. He’d never let me do anything but that.”

  Ryn’s words run through my head. My own life has been so focused on surviving the next seven years that I’ve barely given any thought to what I’ll do after Conscription. Maybe it’s because I’ve never been sure that I’ll make it through at all. Don’t go there now, I tell myself. Moment by moment. Day after day.

  “Have you ever tried to talk to your dad about it?” I ask.

  He snorts. “Yeah, but he doesn’t care. I don’t really have a choice.”

  “I know how you feel,” I sympathize, surprised to find that I actually do. “All my dad cares about is me making officer,” I tell him. “I’m not allowed to fail.”

  The reflection of a school of fish skates across the wall, their fins flickering silver light across Ryn’s face. For a moment he looks incandescent, he almost glows. He leans in, closer to me, the space between us disappearing. Our arms touch, and it feels like electricity. It f
eels like shooting stars.

  “I should get back home soon,” I say quietly. “My dad will be wondering where I am.” I can feel myself on the edge of saying too much. I have to keep my distance, I remind myself. I can’t let myself get too close.

  Ryn nods, but he doesn’t move his arm away.

  “Do you want to know what the best part of this place is?” I ask Ryn, not yet willing to leave.

  “Um, of course,” he says.

  I lead him up the winding stairs, all the way to the top floor. The ceiling is rounded, the room one huge, empty circle. This is Zo’s favorite place in the Biodome.

  “Stand there,” I tell him, pointing toward an archway. He leans against the curve of the wall. I walk to the far side of the room, then turn to face him.

  “Hello, Ryn,” I whisper, and wait.

  The words I say reach him a few seconds later. A smile spreads over his face. I close my eyes.

  “Hello,” his voice whispers a moment later, as though he’s standing right next to me. When I open my eyes, he gives me a wave. I raise my hand slowly, waving back.

  This boy with silver-blond hair and dark green eyes, who grew up all around the galaxy, is here with me. A girl who, if the truth were known, would be placed in a medical facility and studied by scientists, a living experiment.

  He has no idea what I really am, I think, feeling a catch in my throat, wishing at once that the distance between us could be bridged as easily as our voices floating through the air.

  The next morning I wake before the sun rises. I slip out of bed and walk over to the window. It slides open as I run my hand across the glass. The air feels heavier than usual, or maybe it’s just the weight of what today holds, pressing down on me. I walk to my closet and put on the uniform I’ll wear for Assessment. It’s a silver jumpsuit with the Forces emblem on the chest, a cresting wave made up of stars. I put on my boots and tie the laces tight.

  My father is already awake, sitting at the kitchen table. I pour myself a glass of water and sit down across from him, trying to ignore the pressure in my chest.

  “Hi, Li,” he says. “How are you feeling?”

  “Dad,” I say, my voice low, “I don’t think I can do this.”

  He reaches out and puts his hands over mine.

  “I know you can do this,” he says firmly. He sounds so certain. I only wish I felt the same.

  “It’s just, everything that could happen if I don’t make it…” My voice wavers. I look down at the floor, the words stuck in my throat.

  “You can let fear in,” he says softly. “But you can’t let it overtake you.”

  He stands up and walks over to me, pressing a kiss against my forehead.

  “You’re braver than you think, Li,” he says. “You have to trust yourself. Trust that you can do this.”

  I force myself to smile, like I know he wants me to do, trying to summon the strength he sees in me.

  I leave for the train before Zo wakes up, walking alone to the station. The platform is full of other Level Fours, but it’s quieter than usual, everyone anticipating the day ahead. None of us knows what to expect. Assessment takes place on a Forces base, along the far edge of the Bay. For the next two months, we’ll all go there to perform a series of tests, mental and physical, to establish our ranking and determine our future.

  I look out through the waves, all the way to the ocean floor. I can see the ripples of sand that span it, fanning out endlessly. My thoughts float to Ryn. I bite my lip to stop from breaking into a smile.

  “How do I look?” Mirabae comes up beside me, her purple hair pulled into a tight topknot. She motions to her uniform, tied at the waist with a belt.

  “Amazing,” I say, smiling back at her. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  The train pulls into the station and an awed silence falls over the platform. The train is just for us. It’s silver with circular windows, made up of three different levels. The star-filled wave spans the side of the train. The doors lift and everyone rushes on, sliding into the rows of seats.

  Mirabae and I find two seats together. The train pulls away from the platform, picking up speed as we cross the bridge. We move over the ocean, the water churning wildly underneath the tracks. Before long, the base comes into view, unfolding before us. One building looms in the center, surrounded by metallic domes. These are the stations where our testing will take place.

  The train pulls up to the platform along the edge of the base and the doors open. In front of each door is a metal archway, scanning us for intake. This is it, I think. No going back now. I step off the train and through the arch. Blue dots of light flash over my body. A line of words appears before me.

  Cadet Li: Present for Assessment. Report to the auditorium.

  I move through the arch and follow Mirabae onto the base. We walk to the auditorium, all of us a sea of silver. Mirabae weaves through the crowd, finding space for us to stand in the middle of the room. I don’t see Ryn, but everyone looks so similar in uniform. Magister Sethra stands on a platform before us, her robes a darker silver than our uniforms. She looks at the crowd and we all fall quiet.

  “Welcome, Cadets,” she says. Her white hair is cut in a sharply angled bob. “Today marks the beginning of your journey as part of the Abdolorean Armed Forces. You are joining an elite group, one that defends freedom and stability across the galaxy.”

  A cheer breaks out across the room. I force myself to join in, smiling and clapping along with everyone else.

  “For the next eight weeks, you’ll learn about the planets you might visit as members of the Forces. You’ll learn about the tactics the Forces deploy, and you will go through rigorous physical training to prepare you for service.”

  Mirabae looks at me, her eyes shining with excitement. I know she’s thinking of all the places she wants to go, the way the galaxy will open up around her. She doesn’t know what it feels like to be scared of her future. I glance around the room, looking for Ryn again. This time I find him, looking straight at me. He smiles and my stomach swoops to the ground.

  “A major part of your training includes practice simulations. During each simulation, you will be placed in situations you might encounter during service, each one harder than the last. These practice simulations are meant to prepare you for your final simulation examination, upon which your placement is decided.”

  This much we already know, but each year, the sims change, making it impossible to anticipate what we’ll be tested on. We won’t learn anything about them until the moment before each one begins.

  Sethra’s voice softens. “As you all know, Assessment ends not only with your placements, but with the farewell gala, to commemorate your accomplishments and celebrate all your hard work before Conscription begins.”

  The gala is legendary, a night when everyone dresses up and dances, a night when everyone goes wild. I should be excited about it, like everyone else, but all it does is fill me with anxiety. After the gala, there’s only a week before we leave the Bay, before our lives change completely.

  “Your official training will begin tomorrow. In accordance with the Forces mandate, you will be placed in a seven-person unit, which you will work with for the duration of Assessment,” Sethra says. “During your simulations, one cadet from each unit will act as leader. In a moment, you will receive your unit numbers. These numbers also correspond to the simulation station to which you are assigned.”

  She clasps her hands in front of her, the rings she wears catching the light.

  Our assignments appear in the air before us, the words flashing blue, sparkling.

  Cadet Li: Unit Fifteen.

  I’m with Braxon, Nava, Ranthu, Akia, Mirabae…and Ryn. Involuntarily, my eyes flicker to Ryn across the room. He offers a broad smile and my skin tingles.

  “You will meet up with your unit tomorrow. For now, you’re all dismissed to tour the facility and get your bearings.”

  Everyone streams out of the auditorium, a murmur of anticipation in the air.
So much is unknown. I feel like I have to do something to help my chances.

  “I’ll see you later,” I say to Mirabae, and walk toward Magister Sethra with an air of confidence I don’t really feel.

  “Magister Sethra,” I call. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  She turns to me. “Of course,” she says. “Let’s go to my office.”

  We walk through the hall behind the auditorium, down to the lowest level of the building. She stops in front of a door, pressing her hand against it. The door opens, revealing a room with a desk, two chairs, and maps of the galaxies covering the walls. Sethra swipes her hand across the maps and they all fade to black. A pitcher of rose water sits on her desk, two glasses beside it. She pours the rose water into the glasses and hands one to me.

  “Now,” she says. “What’s on your mind?”

  “I hope you know that I’ve always worked my hardest,” I say, clasping my hands tightly around the glass.

  Sethra smiles and sits back in her chair, crossing her legs, her robes flowing around her. “I do know this, Cadet Li.” She narrows her eyes at me, as if she can read my thoughts.

  “I’m wondering…” I swallow. “Is there anything else I can do to secure a place as officer?”

  “Your chances of ranking in an officer position are very good so far,” she tells me. I feel a rush of relief. “You should know, though, that the competition will not be easy. Your score on the final was tied with another student, placing the two of you in direct competition for the position.”

  “Who?” I ask, before I can stop myself.

  “Cadet Braxon,” she says, and my heart sinks. Of course it’s him. “Now, he hasn’t spoken with me, so he doesn’t know you’re his main competition.” She smiles. “Coming to meet with me has given you some extra insight that you can use to your advantage, Cadet Li.”

  I force myself to smile. “I’ll try, Magister Sethra.”

  “My advice is to avoid all distractions. I believe you have what it takes to make officer,” she says, standing to open the door. She puts her hand on my shoulder. “Prove me right.”