Starswept

by Mary Fan

  The moment the hologram leaves me, a high-pitched beeping emits from the bot, which backs up and surrounds me with its cloud of light again. “Iris Lei, please follow me. Noncompliance will lead to forced removal.”

  Milo wraps his arm around me. “Don’t panic,” he says gently. “I’m sure it’s nothing bad.”

  I look up at him, taking some comfort in the familiarity of his presence.

  He smiles. “I’ll come with you and wait outside. It’ll be okay.”

  I’m still gasping as if someone wrapped a plastic bag over my face, but this time when the bot wheels forward, I manage to follow.

  CHAPTER 18

  THE SECURITY BOT PAUSES BESIDE a steel door with a violet stripe vertically bisecting it. I recognize the name stamped in thin black letters across the center. Master Sharma—the administrator in charge of placing us with patrons and negotiating contracts.

  The anxiety releases my lungs, letting me breathe normally again. Master Sharma doesn’t handle disciplinary issues, so I can’t be here because I’m in trouble. Maybe he just wants to talk about my future employment prospects.

  The door slides open, and the yellow cloud around me vanishes. Master Sharma, remoting in via hologram, sits behind a black desk, his hickory face placid and his dark eyes watching me with a look of calculated calm. I barely notice the rest of him as I find my eyes drawn to his left.

  A slender woman in white with dark red hair stands beside him. I stare at her eyes. Bright yellow and glowing—she’s Adryil. I blink, not quite believing what I see. I’m so used to the Adryil—other than Dámiul—being only distant audiences or recordings that seeing one up close and in the flesh is disconcerting.

  “Hello, Iris. My name is Erayet.” Her accent is smoother than Dámiul’s, closer to the English spoken by Earthlings. “I am the liaison between the Papilio School and the nation of Adrye.”

  There’s only one reason she’d be here. But it can’t be… No one gets hired that fast. Even Inna Havener starred in two full-length operas before she landed a patron.

  “Please take a seat.” Master Sharma gestures at the chair across from him.

  I obey, not daring to think anything until one of them tells me what’s going on.

  “Your unexpected solo caused much excitement among the pool of prospective patrons.” Master Sharma folds his hands on the table. “I have the pleasure of informing you that Soraï and Gysát Ydaya, a prominent couple on Adrye, have offered you employment.”

  The meaning of his words slowly seep into my mind. I’ve been hired—I don’t have to fear the future anymore. I should be ecstatic, but I’m too shocked to do more than stare at him. My gaze slides up to Erayet.

  “They were very pleased with your performance.” Erayet speaks slowly, as if I’m a small child who might not understand her. “They have requested your presence on Adrye as soon as possible. Fortunately, Master Sharma and I were able to agree on the terms of your contract, which means I can bring you, along with the other Artists who found patrons, with me when I return to Adrye. But we must leave for the spaceport immediately.”

  Immediately? Artists are usually given at least a day’s notice before they have to depart. Everything is happening so quickly, my brain can’t process it. Just an hour ago, I thought I was going to be expelled.

  I recall the lenient manner in which Officer Klassen questioned me, and then Mistress Medina’s appearance right after. The school must have already been in negotiations over my contract when the security bot discovered the Zexa device, so they quickly worked out a deal with the authorities because disappointing the patrons would have been terrible for their reputation. I should be gladder, but my thoughts are churning too wildly.

  “I know this must be very startling for you.” Master Sharma’s voice is almost robotic in its precision. “The urgency with which the Ydayas requested your presence is unusual. But circumstances required swiftness. The Ydayas employ a quartet; however, their violist retired abruptly, leaving them with a gap in their ensemble.”

  “You will, of course, be expected to perform solos as well,” Erayet adds. “The Ydayas did not only hire you as a replacement. They saw your potential and wanted to be the first to sponsor you.” Her burgundy lips stretch into a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “You will be very comfortable on Adrye.”

  Adrye… I’m going to Adrye… It finally hits me: I have a patron. Everything I’ve been working for, everything I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember, is happening. What’s more, I’ll be on Dámiul’s world in a matter of days. Perhaps I haven’t lost him after all. If he hasn’t left for his assignment yet, I still have a chance to see him.

  And I’ll find my mother. Together, we’ll take care of my father—bring him to Adrye or at least keep in touch. My family will be reunited.

  My mouth seems stuck on a smile. No more staring at a number that could decide my fate. The fear I’ve lived with all my life is gone.

  “The… Ydayas?” I draw out the word, not sure if I’m saying it correctly.

  “That’s right. Soraï and Gysát Ydaya.” Erayet enunciates each syllable carefully for my benefit.

  Sor-AH-ee and Guy-SAHT Ee-DYE-ah. I sound out their names in my head, hoping that when the time comes to greet my patrons, I’ll pronounce the words correctly.

  “Let’s review the terms of your contract.” Master Sharma taps his watch, and a holographic document appears before me.

  Black letters, as small as grace notes, march across the air. I lean closer to get a better look. Though I can make out words in English, I barely understand what they’re telling me. I’d have a better time understanding if they were actual grace notes.

  My confusion must show on my face, because Master Sharma says, “Would you like us to explain the terms to you?”

  I nod, a little ashamed. “Yes, please.”

  “The payment is very generous, as stated here.” He points at one sentence, which glows yellow at his touch.

  The number looks high, but I have nothing to compare it to. Being born at Papilio, I’ve never had to handle money. What’s more, this amount is measured in Adryil currency.

  “It’s twenty-six percent higher than the average payment for an Orchestra principal.” He lifts his mouth into an almost-smile. “And yes, you are being contracted as a principal, even though you were billed as a section player. The Ydayas were hoping to hire you for less, but I made sure you were properly valued.”

  “Your school drives a hard bargain.” Erayet’s tone is dry. “You should be grateful that the Ydayas are so willing to accommodate you.”

  A thrill runs through me. I’m a principal. It should have been obvious from my ranking, but Master Raucci hadn’t promoted me yet. I thought it was because the position belonged to Estelle. I suppose it still does, since I’ll be gone before I can lead the section. I hardly care that I’ll never actually sit in that coveted first chair. The whole point of being a principal is to get better terms from a patron.

  It seems strange for something that was such a big part of my life to suddenly not matter.

  “A percentage of the payment will go directly to Papilio to cover your debt.” Master Sharma apparently takes my stunned silence for understanding. “This includes the standard fees—tuition, housing, dining, clothing, and such—plus interest. The cost of your instrument is included, since you will be taking that with you. Everything else will be provided to you by your new employer.”

  All I can do is nod, though a twinge of regret pierces me. I never cared much about belongings, but still, they felt like they were mine. At the very least, I wish I could have kept the gown I wore to the Wintertime Masquerade as a memento of my dance with Dámiul. It’s hard to accept that nothing here truly belonged to me.

  “Of course, there is also the substantial fine you incurred earlier today.” Master Sharma folds his hands. “Until your debts are paid off, the school will receive ninety percent of your payment.”

  “Ninety?” I give h
im an incredulous look. The standard terms—with three-quarters going to Papilio—seemed imbalanced enough. How is it fair that I’m to receive only ten percent of what my skills earn?

  Master Sharma’s eyes harden. “Might I remind you that, if the school had not negotiated with the Township of Dogwood on your behalf, you would be in prison?”

  And they would never have received payment for my debts. It becomes even more obvious why Papilio bailed me out. But it’s my own fault that I have all this extra debt. If I’d turned over the device, I would never have met Dámiul. At the end of the day, the price I have to pay for that is literally just a price. I wouldn’t change what I did for anything.

  “I understand,” I say. “How long will it take to pay off what I owe?”

  “Twenty years, assuming the Ydayas keep you in their employ.” Master Sharma’s voice is so clinical, it could have been spoken by a computer. Which seems glaringly incongruous compared to the enormity of his words.

  Twenty years—it might as well be the rest of my life. I always knew that employment lasted decades, but it never seemed real before now.

  “After your tenure, you and your employers can decide whether to extend the contract,” he adds.

  Erayet steps forward, fixing her golden gaze on me. “There are, of course, conditions you are expected to meet. As is standard, you will not be permitted to engage in any activities that could hinder your ability to perform. This includes marriage, pregnancy, and romantic trysts. You are to adhere to a schedule, and you are not to leave your employers’ premises without permission. The terms of the agreement are confidential, and you are not to discuss them with anyone. Violating any part of your contract is grounds for immediate termination.”

  She might as well have said, You will not know freedom, happiness, or love. Nothing about these terms is unfamiliar, but now that they’re being imposed on me, I suddenly feel like a caged bird.

  Yet there’s another piece of the deal: You also will not know want, misery, or fear.

  Erayet’s smile looks painted on. “In exchange for your compliance, you will be provided with high-quality shelter, clothing, and food.”

  I sink back in my chair. “And if I don’t accept, I’ll lose everything.”

  Master Sharma leans toward me. “As stated in the school’s policies, your enrollment ends once we’ve negotiated a contract for you. You are no longer a student, Iris, and what happens next depends on your decision.”

  Decision? What kind of decision do I have? Whether I go to Adrye or remain on Earth, the world I knew this morning is gone. I’ll never be a Papilian again—I’ll be a professional Artist or a struggling laborer.

  Erayet glances at her watch. “If you delay, the Ydayas might change their minds and withdraw their sponsorship. I’m afraid you won’t have time for goodbyes.”

  “Goodbyes?” It hits me that everything I know is about to be blown away by the gale whisking me toward a new life.

  Master Sharma gestures at the contract. “If you are unwilling to meet these conditions, you can refuse. We will place you in another job, but know that the more coveted positions as school staff are reserved for retired Artists and those who age out.”

  I try again to read the document, but can’t absorb its words. Even if I understood the convoluted language, I would probably hear the same ultimatum in my head: forfeit your freedom, or forfeit your future.

  This is all happening so fast. It doesn’t feel real, that these could be my last moments in the school where I’ve spent my entire life.

  Erayet glances at her watch again “We need to leave soon. Iris, what is your decision?”

  “I’ll take it.” I don’t see any other choice.

  “Very good.” Master Sharma smiles. “You may indicate your agreement by pressing your hand against the document.”

  I comply, and when I withdraw my hand, the crisscrossing lines of my palm and narrow whorls of my fingertips glow white against the words.

  Master Sharma swipes the screen on his watch, and the document dissolves. “It’s been an honor having you as a student. I wish you the best with your new patrons.”

  “Thank you.” I stare at the spot where the document hovered, and the ghost of my handprint lingers in my vision.

  Erayet maneuvers around Master Sharma’s desk. “The hovertram that will take you to the spaceport is waiting outside the East Gate. The other Artists are already on board. The security bot that escorted you here will lead you to them, and I’ve requested that a second bring your instrument from your dormitory.” A floor panel opens before her. I nearly fall out of my chair when a translucent blue pod shoots out of the ground. It opens before Erayet, who lets out a slight laugh at my astonishment. “I shall travel by different means. I have a few errands to run before our departure.” She steps inside.

  The pod vanishes into the ground and whisks her away, leaving me to stare at a plain gray floor tile that apparently leads to some kind of underground transportation system. I turn to Master Sharma, only to glimpse him flickering out. The door slides open, and the security bot once again surrounds me with its holographic cloud.

  I follow it out of the room. What’s happening to me? Too much has occurred today, and it’s not even dark yet. I almost expect to wake up and find that it was all a vivid dream, shifting inexplicably from tableau to tableau until reality returns.

  The truth falls upon me like icy rain: I’m leaving. Really leaving. No more lessons with Vera, no more Spectacles, no more Semiannual Balls… And worst of all, no more Milo. The world I’ve known is gone. There’s plenty I won’t miss—the rankings, the pressure, the backstabbing—but all I can think about is what I’m losing. My eyes well, and I hurriedly wipe them. I haven’t even left the office building, and already, I’m homesick.

  I’m not ready to leave. There’s so much I haven’t done yet—this part of my life can’t be over so quickly. I’ve signed away so much… even the right to love.

  Have I even been in love? Do I know what love is? I long for Dámiul with every breath I have, wishing and hoping against hope that reaching Adrye will mean getting another chance to see him. But if I succeed, what would I say? It was easy to tell Milo I loved him. He’s the friend I’ve always known. Would I tell Dámiul the same? If I did, it would mean something so different, it deserves a new word.

  I remind myself that twenty years isn’t really so long. I’ll be thirty-five when my debt is repaid—still young enough to have children if I want. I could retire and carry on with my life. My freedom isn’t gone—just on hold. Though it seems like forever from here, there’s a whole lifetime waiting on the other side of my tenure on Adrye, one that’s safe and secure.

  The bot exits the building. As soon as I step out behind it, Milo springs up from the bench he was waiting on.

  “What happened?” He glances at the bot, which continues wheeling forward. “Where are they taking you?”

  “I… I’ve been hired.” The words sound strange coming out of my mouth. “I have to leave for the spaceport right now.”

  Since the bot won’t let me stop, Milo walks beside me. “Wait… What?”

  “My new patrons saw me at the Spectacle and want me on Adrye right away.”

  Milo stares at me, a look of dismayed shock plain in his eyes. It’s clear from his expression that he can’t believe I’m leaving so suddenly. I still can’t believe it either. Or that I might never see him again. I wish I didn’t have to leave him so lost. What will become of him when I’m gone?

  “Milo…”

  “Congratulations.” He gives me a trembling smile. “This—This is wonderful news. I always knew you’d make it.”

  A spark of hope lights within me. “Maybe this isn’t goodbye. If you stay with the Ballet, I know you’ll make it to Adrye too. I could see you there.”

  Milo looks down, his expression taut.

  I bite my lip, wondering if I said the wrong thing. But I can’t stand the thought of him surrendering to despair. Each
time I’ve seen him truly happy, it was when he was doing what he was born to do: bring stories to life with movement in a way no one else could. “Remember how a few weeks ago, I thought I had no chance at all? You never know what’ll happen, so please, don’t stop trying. You’re too good to give up.”

  Milo meets my gaze. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Hearing the sounds of mechanical whirring, I face forward and realize we’re just a few steps from the East Gate. The double doors open, and the scent of fallen leaves blows toward me on a faint breeze. Outside, a hovering transport with a rounded shape waits, its glimmering surface reflecting the backdrop of winter trees. The engines radiate green light and hum a pulsing minor third. “The Papilio School” glows in white letters across the hovertram’s side. Through the windows, I glimpse the faces of half a dozen Papilians who seem more than eager to begin their new lives. I must be the only one who almost wishes she could stay.

  Milo stops as the bot nears the gate.

  I break away from the hologram and throw my arms around him. “I’ll miss you. You’re the best friend I could’ve asked for.”

  “Are you kidding?” He releases me and shakes his head. “I’ve been a terrible friend.”

  “That’s not true.”

  The bot’s shrieking alarm cuts me off before I can say anything else, and it wheels back toward me. “Iris Lei, please follow me. Noncompliance will lead to forced removal.”

  “Go on.” A sad smile tints Milo’s expression. “Don’t forget me, Iris.”

  “I could never forget you.” I reluctantly return to the holographic net, then turn back to give him one last wave.

  He waves back as the gate slams shut, cutting me off from the world I knew.

  CHAPTER 19

  AS THE HOVERTRAM BREEZES THROUGH Charlotte, the towering metropolis blurs into silver-white streaks, luminous against dusk’s ashen sky. I press my forehead to the cold window, soaking in my last glimpses of Earth. The next time I set foot on this planet, I’ll be as old as Vera. But when I do, my life will continue as hers did.