The Life Below

by Alexandra Monir

  “What’s that?”

  “Find Naomi Ardalan’s brother and parents. Keep an eye on them, make sure they’re okay. And if there’s somewhere else where they can be safer from all the California floods, with better care for her brother—make that happen for them, please.” I give her a slight smile. “You could say it’s my last wish.”

  “Done,” Greta agrees. She glances up at the thundering sky. “Ready?”

  I nod and step out of the spaceship to see Lark and Asher one last time. It’s a memory frozen in my mind, to keep with me for the rest of my life: hugging my only friends left on Earth, the people who saved me from the bleakest future.

  “Thank you both, for everything. I’ll never forget this. And I’m going to make you guys proud up there.”

  “Love you, brother.” Asher thumps my back as we hug good-bye, his expression bittersweet. “Tell the stars hello from me.”

  Lark squeezes my hand.

  “You’re going to be amazing. Good luck up there.” And then she whispers in my ear, “Say hi to Naomi for me.”

  “I can’t wait to.” I smile at the thought.

  Greta clears her throat beside me.

  “It’s time.” She meets my eyes, and I can tell she’s struggling to keep her emotions at bay. “I don’t know if I’ve said it yet, but—thank you. For being brave enough to take a chance, and for believing in something others might dismiss as the wild ideas of an old, mad scientist.”

  “You’re not that old,” I say, trying to keep the mood light so I don’t break down.

  “And for giving me a purpose again.” Her voice is barely audible through the wind, but I know I heard her right. “You sometimes remind me of someone. . . . He would have done well at this. I know you will, too.”

  At the mention of her son, a chill runs through me. I’m retracing Johannes’s steps—hugging Greta good-bye, walking into the spacecraft, preparing for liftoff. But it can’t be the same outcome this time . . . can it?

  “Thank you,” I mumble. “Let’s—let’s do this.”

  I watch her walk away to join Asher and Lark, and I give the three of them a final wave. And then, swallowing the lump in my throat, I turn and enter the spacecraft alone.

  I strap into my reclined launch seat, going through all the motions Asher taught me on the piloting touch screen, while trying to ignore the slamming of my heart against my rib cage. The floor beneath me rumbles, the sky outside turning a fiery orange as Greta lights a series of massive wooden sticks, setting them ablaze in quick succession, and the engines ignite. The countdown echoes in my ears from the cabin speakers, and I close my eyes, bracing myself for—

  “T-minus one. And . . . LIFTOFF!”

  Maybe if we’d left one minute sooner, or if the tornado had struck one minute later, I could have been free of its path entirely. But the second the rocket shoots into the air, I feel the wind’s pummeling force, threatening to suck the WagnerOne into its vortex. The ship’s walls shudder around me, my speed starts to waver, and I watch in horror as the numbers flickering on-screen take a sharp dive. As quickly as my journey began, it’s ending. I can feel the storm lashing at the spacecraft, the wind shear yanking us off course; I can already see the crash-landing on Earth to come—

  “LEO!” Greta’s voice shouts into my headset. “Increase your escape velocity. You can beat this!”

  With my hands shaking in their gloves, I quickly work the flight controls, accelerating and swerving and adjusting my trajectory, until at last gravity falls away. The last thing I see is a flash of light—

  —and then everything turns black.

  Part Two

  Mars

  MESSAGE ORIGIN: EARTH—UNITED STATES—S. CALIFORNIA

  MESSAGE RECIPIENT: PONTUS SPACECRAFT—EARTH-MARS TRANSIT

  ATTN: ARDALAN, NAOMI

  [MESSAGE STATUS: RECEIVED—ENCRYPTED]

  Hey, Sis.

  Last night started out almost like old times at our house, and I mean OLD times, before half of LA flooded and we started living under rations. Dad grilled beef kabobs and Mom cooked her famous Persian rice with cherries, and it was like I was eleven again. At least, that’s how long ago it seems since we last ate anything as delicious as kabob or cherry rice. But then, when we were settled in at the couch, there was this gaping, empty space. And when we turned on the TV, instead of catching up on one of our shows or picking a movie to watch, it was you on the screen.

  I can’t explain what a weird feeling it was, to go from a scene that felt so nostalgic, like you could have been sitting right there next to me, to getting hit in the face with the reminder that you’re actually in SPACE. Most of the time I think I do a decent job of being strong and cool about all of this, but sometimes it’s just . . . a lot. And sometimes the only thing that helps is running up to your room, standing in the middle of your old stuff, and pretending I still have a sister and best friend on Earth.

  Anyway . . . Your livestreaming event for the Final Six docuseries was the reason Mom and Dad decided to spring for last night’s epic dinner, so I gotta thank you for that! In all seriousness, it was really good to see you. I wish we got to talk more—it’s crazy how they micromanage your time up there—but I know I should just be grateful the technology even exists for us to communicate from hundreds of millions of miles away.

  I was thinking about how when we were little, every time we heard of another hurricane or tsunami sending a different city underwater, we’d look at each other and say, “We’re living in the future.” We meant it in the darkest sense then, but now that you’re up in space, changing the world (I mean the universe!), you’ve redefined what living in the future means, and turned it into a positive. And that is pretty freaking cool.

  Speaking of cool . . . I got your encrypted attachment the other night, about your discovery (!!) and I’m attaching some research of my own for you here. Basically, I’m working on a list of Earth organisms that match some of the characteristics you described—that way we can get at least a vague idea of what to expect on Europa. (And yes, I know I said “we,” LOL. The truth is, it helps a lot to feel involved in some small way.)

  Anyway, something struck me as interesting: I looked up the physiological traits you mentioned, and the same few living creatures came up—but they were all from prehistoric Earth. So that tells us something. I leave it up to you, sister-genius, to figure out what.

  I’ll write you more tomorrow, and Mom and Dad asked me to remind you to send more video messages—we’re all missing you big-time.

  Love ya,

  Sam

  Ten

  NAOMI

  I STAND IN FRONT OF THE SQUARE PLASTIC SMIDGE OF MIRROR above my bathroom sink, checking my reflection half an hour before the landmark Earth-to-Deep Space press conference that will broadcast us live to hundreds of millions in a special live episode of the Final Six docuseries. It’s only the second time astronauts have ever video-chatted with Earth from this great a distance—nearly halfway to Mars—and I try not to think about what happened to the last crew as I run a brush through my hair.

  Dr. Takumi told us that more than half of Earth’s population is expected to tune in today. I can barely wrap my head around that staggering a number, but the thought of my family watching—and maybe, hopefully, Leo—is what gives me focus. My feelings about the mission may waver, but my desire to make them proud is constant.

  “Naomi.” A clipped, mechanical voice echoes outside my door, and my back stiffens. Cyb. “We’re waiting for you.”

  So far on the ship, there’s been a clear divide between the AIs and the human crew. Aside from the first day, Cyb and Tera haven’t made a single appearance at our Astronauts’ Residence, while only Jian has gone back to the command module where the robots are stationed and where Cyb runs the cockpit. So it’s a jolt of surprise when I hear his voice. If Cyb is joining us, this must be more important than I thought.

  I slide open my door, stepping out alongside Minka as she exits her room nex
t to mine. The others are lined up by the elevator pod, all of us dressed in our matching Mission: Europa uniform shirts per Dr. Takumi and the general’s instructions, though a couple of my teammates managed to dress it up even with the limited fashion choices aboard the Pontus. Minka pairs the shirt with an asymmetrical skirt over black tights—two items it would have never even occurred to me to pack—while Sydney has on a pair of black jeans with strategic holes at the knees, a throwback to last century’s favorite trend. Meanwhile, I’m keeping it simple in my favorite old pair of plain dark blue denim, and it hits me with a sharp pang when I last wore these—the weekend before I left home.

  Just then, I notice Tera shuffling forward next to Cyb, a stack of familiar-looking jackets in her mechanical arms. As soon as Minka and I join the group, she begins handing them out to each of us. I’m expecting the usual ice-blue bomber jackets with our mission patch and insignia, but this time there’s something else right underneath: an oversize logo at the chest, announcing in bold letters: Brought to you by ACS Sportswear!

  “What’s this about?” I ask Tera, pointing at the logo.

  “Our mission’s new corporate sponsor,” she answers. “All-Climate-Safe Sportswear. Dr. Takumi has instructed me to make sure one of you mentions them live on camera.”

  I turn to Sydney and Dev next to me, and the three of us exchange bewildered glances.

  “Since when do we have sponsors?” I press. “That seems really . . . odd.” We’re supposed to be colonizing another world and saving humanity from theirs—shilling products hardly fits with either agenda.

  “Earth’s declining population means declining tax dollars, so sponsorship provides a significant source of our mission funding.” Tera’s voice becomes more monotone than usual as she recites some kind of memorized speech. “Thanks in part to ACS Sportswear, we are able to travel farther than anyone in the history of humankind, in lodgings that are as comfortable as they are state-of-the-art. ACS Sportswear is a generous supporter of both International Space Training Camp and its brilliant leader, Dr. Ren Takumi and—”

  “That’s enough, Tera.” Cyb’s voice cuts through the room, halting the backup robot midsentence. Her mechanical mouth snaps shut and her eyes—round blue camera lenses—blink straight ahead as she waits for her superior’s next command.

  “I believe Tera got a little confused.” Cyb says the word as derisively as it’s possible for a robot to sound, and I find myself suddenly curious about the happenings in the command module. “She took Naomi’s question as a prompt to read the prepared statement that one of you will be making on camera about ACS. No need to say the last line, though. Instead, we’d like you to say something to the audience about how ACS Sportswear provides the most durable, weatherproof outerwear to shield their bodies during extreme storms.”

  “Um. What?”

  Jian’s mortified expression speaks for the rest of us. The idea of sitting in front of the camera in our billion-dollar spaceship, far removed from the endless spate of hurricanes, floods, and fires on Earth, and using the videoconference to sell outerwear for said natural disasters is revolting. So of course, the one person who volunteers is Beckett Wolfe.

  “I’ll do it.” He shrugs.

  “Good. Now let’s get into camera position downstairs.”

  Cyb lumbers toward the elevator pod and the rest of us follow, with me and Dev and Sydney lagging a few paces behind.

  “This is going to be embarrassing,” Dev says, cringing at Beckett’s back.

  “I’m getting the idea that this videoconference might be just a publicity stunt to make money,” I whisper. And then I remember the last line of Tera’s awkward speech, the moment Cyb interrupted: “ACS Sportswear is a generous supporter of both International Space Training Camp and its brilliant leader . . .”

  “He’s making money off of us,” I blurt out under my breath. “Not just a government salary, but he’s taking some of the sponsorship money, too.”

  And suddenly I know how today is going to go. The anticipated landmark videoconference with Earth is really an excuse to sell more products for ACS, so that they in turn line Dr. Takumi’s pockets.

  “No wonder he never really cared about the risks and wanted to keep the mission going at all costs.” I grit my teeth. “We’re his meal ticket.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far.” Dev looks taken aback by my mini-tirade and Sydney jabs her elbow into my side, a reminder to cool it in front of him. Dev doesn’t know what I discovered at space camp or here in the lab with Sydney; he doesn’t know anything about what Dr. Takumi is hiding.

  But it’s only a matter of time before everything comes to light.

  “You three! Get moving.”

  Cyb’s voice makes me jump, my face turning bright red. Did he hear me? But no, the robots are too far ahead. We pick up the pace and meet the rest of our crew in the elevator pod, all of us silent as we swoop from the fourth floor down to the first.

  I’d been tasked with setting up the Communications Bay ahead of time, so the main cinema screen is already unfurled and blinking with a countdown clock when we arrive, while two larger cameras are positioned in front of our six chairs. We take our seats in alphabetical order, me at one end and Beckett at the other, with a robot on either side. Thankfully, I have the less intense, slightly bumbling one of the two robots next to me.

  Just before the countdown clock hits the two-minute mark, the screen flickers to life, with Dr. Takumi and General Sokolov filling the frame. I shift uncomfortably in my seat. What lines are they planning to feed us now?

  “Good afternoon, astronauts and AIs,” Dr. Takumi greets us. His deep voice manages to be as resonant through the screen as it is in person. “We’ll be going live in just a few moments. You’ll be looking at a split screen of the five countries you represent, with a different news anchor stationed at each location. Select audience members have been chosen to ask you questions, so we’ll have a short Q and A, and the general and I will make some remarks as well. There will be two commercial breaks, at which point you will give the testimonial for ACS Sportswear, which I assume the robots briefed you on?”

  “Roger that,” Beckett calls out. “I’m on it.”

  I try not to roll my eyes.

  “All right, then. We’re going live in three . . . two . . .”

  I hear my mom’s voice in my head (“Don’t slouch, azizam”), and I sit up a little straighter, just for her.

  “One.”

  And then the screen transforms, bursting with color. I stare hungrily, soaking in the vision of everything I miss: the ancient trees and dirt roads, the sound of whipping wind and voices and laughter, the crowds of people, and yes, even the water, the rain and overflowing oceans. I miss it all with a fierceness that makes my eyes sting and my stomach ache.

  The split screen gives us a wealth of Earth visuals, and I drink in each of the five scenes: a faded gold temple, standing on pillars above rising water in India; a terraced, sloping green field in China; the front facade of a railway hotel in Canada; a giant staircase leading from the sea to a city square in Ukraine; and the sprawling, elevated campus of Houston’s Johnson Space Center, home of Mission Control and our Space Training Camp. These surviving landmarks are a reminder of all the beauty that’s left on Earth, even amid the destruction, and I feel a stab of regret that all the resources we’re pouring into finding a new home aren’t going toward saving the one that’s been there for us all this time.

  Every location on-screen is filled with hordes of locals who go wild when they see us on their end, shrieking and cheering, some even crying, as if we invented music or something else worthy of this kind of adulation. Some are holding up signs with messages and slogans bearing our names, and my heart jumps as I catch one written to me in Farsi.

  “Godspeed, Naomi.”

  I look to see who is holding the sign, and find a girl of about nine or ten. She looks just like me at that age, with her wide, dark eyes, unruly hair, and those thick eyebrows tha
t she’ll probably have to wait a few more years before she’s allowed to tweeze. The girl’s expression brims with hope, with admiration, and I feel a wave of emotion at the sight. I try to catch her eye through the screen, and I mouth Thank you. As much as I ache for home, at least I know that my being here is doing a bit of good.

  “Greetings, all!” Dr. Takumi booms. “We are now live, from Earth to deep space. Everyone, say hello from your respective corner of the world—or, in the case of the Final Six, the universe!”

  A chorus of hellos follows in multiple languages, and I smile at the camera, attempting to make eye contact with the crowds on all five sections of the screen.

  “We’re going to kick things off here in Houston, home of the space program,” Dr. Takumi continues. “Now, General Sokolov, I believe you’ve selected some members of our audience here to ask the Final Six their pressing questions?”

  “That’s right.” The general steps into frame. “First, we have twelve-year-old Cooper Grace, the youngest in a family that’s been residing in Houston for four generations now. Tell us, Cooper, what is your question for the Final Six?”

  We all smile at the boy as he tentatively approaches the general, his cheeks bright red.

  “W-what do you do all day on the spaceship?” he whispers into the microphone.

  “A very good question,” the general tells him before turning back to face us through the screen. “Why don’t you each introduce yourselves and talk a bit about your different roles? Jian, let’s start with you.”

  “Ah. Okay.” Jian clears his throat. “My name is Jian Soo, from Tianjin, China—” He pauses, grinning at the roar of excitement emanating from the China segment of the screen. “I’m the copilot, which means I assist Cyb, our genius AI pilot over here, with flight duties and navigation. I go into the command module once a day to monitor our trajectory and progress, and take care of anything that needs a human touch.” He looks at Cyb with a sheepish smile. “Most of the credit belongs to him so far, but I’ll have more to do when the Mars maneuver and Europa landing are finally here.”