by Lyn Forester
Myrrine’s bright blue eyes take me in, and she sighs. “Ah, the blush of passion. It is beautiful.”
Embarrassed heat rushes to my face, and I grab one of the pillows to bury my head from view.
“I told you we should have lingered downstairs longer,” Bastian rumbles.
“Nonsense. We returned just in time. Is that not right, Caitlyn?”
Face still hidden, I nod. Yes, Myrrine arrived at the perfect time to stop me from going further than I’m ready for. I don’t want to run headlong into a physical relationship with any of the guys.
But for the first time in eighteen years, I’m excited to discover what passion is.
Thought Spiral
A quiet ding wakes me from sleep, and I crack my eyelids open in confusion.
The ambient blue glow of the holo-window offers just enough light to make out Myrrine sprawled across her bed, her mouth open to release gentle coos of sleep.
I lift up onto my elbow to peer toward the closet, but shadows hide Bastian from view.
Groggy, I reach for my palm-port, which lays face-down on my desk, but when I switch on the screen, no new messages wait.
Must have been my imagination. Setting the device back down, I snuggle into my pillow, eyes drifting shut once more.
The quiet ding sounds again, and more awake this time, I realize it came from the floor. Or, more specifically, the narrow gap between my desk and bedframe. As quiet as possible, I slip my hand down and grasp the edge of my folding-port, then pull it under my blanket.
When I lift the screen, I squint against the sudden red light as I smash my palm against the screen. Like before, it takes a heartbeat longer than it should to unlock, and I fear I’ll soon have to replace it with a more modern device. Manufacturers moved away from crystal technology when it was proven that the frequent energy conducted through them caused faster degeneration than was worth the cost.
The crystals are too expensive to harvest, growing in only select underground caverns in the Rothvan territories. They’re still used in highly specialized robotics, but they were proven not viable for port use.
The lock screen disappears, and I click on the new message icon. My heart picks up speed as I wait for it to open. I only responded to one person on the forum today.
Rim Jumper’s name pops up, followed by, I always love to look at the stars. Tonight is especially clear. Perfect for racing.
I frown at the message. People who race for the Night Pirates don’t race at Star-Light. We wait for Lights-Out, when all sane people are safely locked in their houses.
Not sure how to respond, I close the screen and tuck my folding-port back into its hiding place.
Is Rim Jumper suggesting I try to join a legit street team?
If they read the forums at all, they’d know who I really am and how unrealistic that is at the moment, if ever. No real circuit will risk their benefactors to let a former councilor’s kid race on their team. Too much potential for backlash from the high houses, who wouldn’t take kindly to one of their own slumming it among athletes. Professional racers are to be admired and showered with gifts, but never let into the Houses.
There to show off, then be put away when no longer shiny. Like a trinket.
I shift in bed to face the wall, my swirling thoughts keeping me from sleep.
What does Rim Jumper mean tonight is especially clear? The holo-sky is always clear. Even when the weather-wardens throw in a few clouds for special effect, they don’t mask the stark pinpoints of light for long.
Only at the Rim can people see real stars, and no one races the Rim. It’s owned by the agriculturalists, who use a combination of natural and artificial light to grow the city’s food.
The person does go by the name Rim Jumper. Maybe they’re one of the Rim workers?
My stomach clenches. Or maybe they’re one of the crazies who dream about jumping off the Rim. Not everyone can tolerate the tight quarters of the stacked cities or can handle the stress of life. I’ve read reports of people sneaking out to the Rim to commit suicide.
I always thought it was stupid. If someone wants to die, they can just go to a clinic, fill out the paperwork, and be done with it. Why go through the terror of falling thousands of feet?
I shift again, uncomfortable with that thought. My mind sticks on the visual of someone leaping from the Rim and plays it on repeat.
Sitting up, I press the heels of my hands against my eyes until all I see is white, but a tiny black speck of life still falls to its death on loop.
I reach for the jar of water on my nightstand, hoping the cool liquid will wash away the vision, and find it empty. I don’t remember finishing it before bed, but the glass says otherwise.
Throwing off my covers, I tiptoe to the door, holding my breath as it swishes open, afraid to wake my roommates. Their breathing remains the same, and I step through the opening.
Shadows fill the hall, with only a pale strip of blue light near the baseboards to offer a pathway. I head to the stairs and hurry down, the feel of hardwood unfamiliar on my bare feet. It lacks the ambient warmth Lonette Manor infuses their floor with.
Do they turn down the heat at night like the weather-wardens do? Or is it always this cold, and I just never noticed because I usually wear shoes when I leave my room?
My mind sticks on the pros and cons of temperature reduction in the school, banishing my more morbid thoughts, and the tension eases from my body.
Eerie silence swaths the downstairs, the holo-screen in the lounge area dark for once. No quiet murmur of student voices, no creak of furniture or footsteps, like the entire dorm is caught in stasis.
Am I really the only student out of bed at this time of night? Does no one else feel restless, driven from their warm blankets to walk off bad dreams?
A shiver rolls down my spine, and I hurry to the snack room for a fresh jar of water, determined to fetch it and return to my room quickly.
No ambient light here. Only a dark cavern to discourage the middle of the night snackers.
I pause at the entrance to the room, unreasonably hesitant to venture inside. Some primitive part of my brain warns of the danger of dark caves, the possibility of predators. Logically, I know the room is empty, that the refrigerator waits three paces in on my left. Easy enough to find, even without light.
My fingers clench around the empty jar in my hand. This is stupid. There’s nothing to fear at APA besides bad grades and Mr. Baresly’s etiquette ruler.
“Caitlyn?” a quiet voice questions from behind me.
I shriek and spin around, arm flung out and jar pointing toward the intruder.
Nikola freezes in place, then slowly lifts his arms. “I surrender. Please don’t shoot.”
My heart thunders in my chest, and I stumble to the large study table to sag against it. “What are you doing here?”
“I was thirsty.” He waves his right hand, and I now see the empty jar he holds. “The same for you?”
I nod, unable to speak past the thunder of my pulse in my ears. Whether I believe Nikola coming down for water is a coincidence or more subterfuge on his part, I’m grateful for another living presence to dispel the mire of my thoughts.
He walks over to join me, his voice a low whisper. “Are you having trouble sleeping?” At my glare, he lifts his hands again. “I’m just asking as a friend.”
Suspicious, I demand, “You’re not going to suggest a tincture? Run diagnostics on me to see what’s wrong?”
His head tilts to the side as he studies me. “Do you think you need diagnostics run?”
I snort.
“I don’t, either. Sometimes people are just restless. Or thirsty.” He sets his jar on the table. “As for tinctures, I don’t agree with being dosed into unconsciousness.”
“No?” They’re fairly common to use. Grandmother takes one with her evening tea to ensure a good night’s rest.
He shakes his head slowly. “I don’t agree with anything that removes free will.”
I snort again. “That’s funny, coming from you.”
He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sleep pants. “Are we going to fight again?”
After a moment, I wave the suggestion away. “I don’t have the energy for that.”
“How about a walk, then?”
I straighten. “A walk?”
He nods toward the entrance to the dorm. “Sometimes, a walk helps to settle the mind and allows you to return to sleep.”
“I...” Uncertain, I glance from him to the door. It feels more intimate at night when the rest of the school is sleeping.
“It’s just a walk, Caitlyn,” Nikola chastises. He turns and strides for the door, calling back, “I’m going. If you would like to join me, you’re welcome to.”
After only a brief hesitation, I run to catch up. A walk can’t hurt, and if it helps settle the restless buzz that shivers through me, all the better.
When we reach the door, I half expect to find it locked, a safeguard to protect the children of the city’s elite. But it swings open easily beneath Nikola’s touch.
Outside, the temperature drops, and the cold stones chill my bare feet. I regret not wearing shoes, but not enough to go back for them. I glance down at Nikola’s feet to discover he had better foresight than me.
Or he planned this from the moment he left his dorm.
Is there a camera positioned somewhere to alert him and Garrett when I leave my room?
My shoulders hunch at the thought. I can’t put it past them, and it sullies this moment.
If Nikola senses my shift in mood, he stays quiet as he leads us toward the circle of grass in the middle of the path. “You know, in the days of Earth, our ancestors practiced what they called grounding. I believe the Troehan clan practices it here, as well.”
“What’s the purpose?” As we step from hard stone to soft grass, I take a moment to appreciate the change. While still cold, the soft earth offers padding for my heels, and the blades of grass tickle my toes.
“It centers the mind and body and removes excess energy.” We walk a slow circle, staying on the grass. “You can do it through meditation, or simply by walking barefoot on the grass.”
“Yeah, I can see why it’s not practiced here,” I say drily. Grass is an expensive luxury not seen on most levels of the city.
Nikola chuckles. “Yes, but there’s no reason you can’t. Your grandmother does it all the time in her atrium, whether she realizes it or not. In the history books, there are quite a few references about returning to nature to find harmony. There’s a theory that energy builds up in the body, and without an outlet, it can cause harm. Stress, lethargy, clouded thoughts.”
I peer at him. “So you’re saying I have too much energy built up?”
His head tips back, and he gazes at the curve of the glass dome. “Everything is made of energy. Imagine what it took for our ancestors to leave earth and venture out into the stars. Energy, surrounded by energy, flying through more energy.”
I follow his eyes to the sky, seeing past the clear roof of the dome that keeps us safe to the stars above. So many pinpricks of light dotting a sea of blue and purple. I’ve never seen an ocean in real life, but the history books make it sound amazing. Vast depths of water, bigger even than the poisoned sea of the Rothvan colony.
Did our ancestors look to the sky as another ocean? What must it have been like to venture out without fear, eagerly driven on by the hope of a new discovery?
A sigh escapes, and I feel the tension easing from my body, rolling from my head out the soles of my feet. The sensation leaves behind weightlessness, but not in the scary sense. I don’t feel like I’ll float away. The grass and dirt beneath my feet keep me grounded.
Startled by the thought, I laugh quietly. “I get it.”
“Hmm?” Nikola peers over at me.
“Grounding.”
A small smile flits across his lips. “So, this helped?”
“Yeah, I suppose.” I glance back to the sky, picking out constellations and galaxies.
So different from what the holo-sky displays. What would our ancestors on Earth think of the ocean of stars in our sky?
“It also helps to remember, in the scheme of things, we are very small.” I peek over at Nikola. “We’re just energy inside of other energy, right?”
He nods and turns back toward the dorms. “Right.”
I stay where I am a moment longer. “So, our choices don’t really hold much weight.”
He pauses. “Well, I don’t know that I’d go that far...”
I keep my expression serene. “We’re tiny ripples in a greater ocean.”
He leans closer in the dark to study my face. “You’re mocking me.”
The smile I held back spreads. “Only a little.”
“You spent too much time with your grandma on your last visit. She likes to talk in circles, too, leaving people unsure what side is up before she’s finished.” He gestures to the dorms. “Let’s head back inside.”
“Afraid I’ll have more scary thoughts?” I tease as I turn to follow, but my eyes stay fixed on the sky. There really are so many more stars here than at Lonette Manor only one level below.
“Your thoughts terrify me often enough as it is.” His hand cups my elbow as we step back onto the stone path. “Perhaps you should watch where you’re going?”
“Isn’t that what you’re here for?” The rejoinder comes out on autopilot, the pattern of stars pinging in my memory.
Not too long ago, Declan, Felix, Connor and I laid out in the field between the school and the administration building and picnicked under the stars. I marveled at their difference then, too, but that’s not what pulls me up short now. No, it’s the circles that interpose themselves over the stars, a map leading the way to a glowing square.
I hadn’t recognized the map Rim Jumper sent because I’d been thinking in terms of a standard level layout, in spokes and sectors. But Level 13 doesn’t hold to the standard design. No one lives up here except for the school. The largest ring would be the school itself, with the smaller ring representing the landing pad. And that square would be in the field between the school and the gate out of here.
“Caitlyn?” Nikola’s quiet voice breaks into my thoughts, and I jolt back to reality.
“Sorry, just lost for a moment in the vast energy.”
He releases a beleaguered sigh. “Remind me not to share any more coping techniques with you.”
Contrite, I reach out to squeeze his elbow. “I appreciate it, really. I feel a lot calmer now. Thank you.”
His dark eyes narrow. “Then why do I feel like your mind is spinning faster than ever?”
“Because you know me.” The admission slips out before I can stop it, and his eyes widen in surprise.
“I do,” he acknowledges cautiously.
My focus drops to the stairs in front of us. “But I don’t think I know you.”
He hurries after me. “Do you want to?”
“I don’t trust you. I question every single one of your actions.”
He sighs again. “I’m trying to fix that.”
“Which only makes me more suspicious.” I glance over my shoulder. “But I do want to know you.”
He gives a crisp nod. “It’s a start.”
But probably not the start he wants. He should know better, and probably does, because he’s the one who told me to discover everything there is to know about those close to me.
Cut Strings
The next morning, when Myrrine and I walk down to breakfast, we find Nikola and Garrett already seated with the twins.
Myrrine eyes the table uneasily but joins me when I grab my usual toast, jam, and tea and walk over to join them. She takes the farthest seat she can from Nikola and Felix, which puts her between Connor and Garrett. Our little table is filling up these days, and I can’t help but mourn the empty chair that Declan should fill.
How much longer before he returns? Surely his brother has recovered
from whatever relapse that necessitated Declan stay behind?
“Caitlyn, are you feeling better today?” Garrett asks from across the table. “Were you able to get the rest you needed?”
I pause, toast halfway to my mouth. “Ah, yes, thank you for asking.”
Myrrine frowns at me. “But you were restless last night. You disappeared for quite some time.”
I frown back at her. When I returned with my water, she’d been cooing away as if she never woke. Then my focus shifts to Bastian, the more likely culprit in noticing my late-night foray.
His crystalline eyes meet mine for a second before he goes back to watching for danger.
My focus returns to Myrrine. “I needed some water.”
“Odd, Nikola needed water last night, too.” Garrett turns to his roommate. “You were gone for a while.”
Eyes round, Myrrine slurps up her nasty, gelatinous fruit as her focus bounces between us. Beside me, Felix stiffens.
I mentally cross my fingers this doesn’t lead to another blowup.
Nikola shrugs. “I was restless and took a walk.”
“Sounds lovely. The stars at night are certainly relaxing.” Garrett’s easy smile shifts to me. “Did you also take a walk?”
I set my toast down, uneasy with being in the spotlight. Nikola and I did nothing wrong, but somehow, the way Garrett phrases it, it sounds like a romantic interlude.
“I had a lot on my mind last night after Connor left,” I say at last, neither confirming nor denying. “He has some interesting ideas about the paper we’re writing.”
A muscle in Garrett’s jaw ticks. “Oh?”
“Yes.” I pick up my toast once more. “I think it will be easy to pull everything together.”
“I would have liked to be there for the discussion,” he says with mild reproach in his voice.
“Me, too,” Felix mutters, and when I glance at him, I find him glaring over my head at his brother. “Sounds like a lot of fun.”
“You have your own team to work with,” Connor reminds him.
“Speaking of which,” Nikola interjects. “Myrrine, I thought we could meet after—”
