Before the world went to shit on the head of a nuclear missile, kids were taught in school the same way a sick person got their medication - spoonfed in easy-to-digest clops.
Anyway, that wasn’t how we did it. Out on the ocean, I and the ninety-nine others of the Battalion spent every waking moment cramming ourselves with facts and algorithms. Even when we were sleeping, they gave us these headsets to hook up to our temples. It was supposed to heighten our brainwaves or something, but I felt it was creepy so never used it.
We did all this not because we had nothing else to occupy our time with. In order to fully utilize the intricacies of the technology behind the Mark II God Giers, we were told that our brains would be linked directly up with the armored suits, and the only hope of not having our grey matter reduced to slime was to raise our mental capacities to the max.
In practice, though, it just meant ten hours of school each day, six days a week.
And I embraced it.
Or at least tried my darnedest to.
“Aiyano, can you answer this question?”
I stifled a yawn as I gazed out the window. The vast blue sky seemed to stretch endlessly, filling the world with possibilities.
“Aiyano?”
From this high up, the ocean was a blanket of blue beneath us. I tried to imagine what lay under that crystalline surface, what wonders lay untouched by the plague which continued to ravage the land even after three years. Would there be dolphins? Whales? I was luckier than most, having seen them in the old films Daddy and I snuck out of the archives at the end of his shifts. Still, what I wouldn’t give to see one in real life.
“Aiyano Chinen!”
I jumped when a hand slapped my table. Round and hairy, the hand belonged to our very pissed-off biology professor.
“Could you please enlighten us, Miss Chinen,” the professor said through clenched teeth, “on what sophisticated thoughts have been occupying your mind to the extent that you would ignore my class?”
“Oh. Uh,” I said, trying my best to not notice how many eyes are on me. “I… was thinking about the answer to your question, sir.”
A few people start to snicker.
The professor’s face turned into a tomato.
“Is that so?” he asked, then thrust his marker at me. “I suppose then that you wouldn’t have any reservations about answering it for us.”
The snickering turned into giggling as I made my way to the whiteboard. I fought back my annoyance with the lot of them. It wasn’t my fault that the last class of the day was also so exhausting.
Up on the board, I saw that the professor had been discussing gene inheritance with the class, and I realized then that I hadn’t been paying a shred of attention to all of it.
It didn’t matter. Biology was a cakewalk. I saw three Punnett Squares already filled out, and took the liberty of assuming the fourth and empty one was for me. My eyes scanned the question, and then I brought the marker to the board…
11 blinks at the whiteboard in front of her. It’s no longer white but black, and moss has clawed its way deep into the plastic. 11 has her finger pressed against the face of the rotting board, a trail in the soot marking the line she’s drawn.
What… was I doing?
Giving herself a rough shake, 11 steps back from the board. After setting foot into the Super Carrier, it's like something has taken control of her body. 11 doesn't remember making her way here, but how else can she be in this classroom?
11 glances around at the tables and chairs placed neatly in even rows along the rotting floor, their metal surfaces pockmarked with corrosion. She's just been sitting in one of them. 11 shakes her head, not knowing whether to laugh at the absurdity of the situation or cry out in shock. What is a Super Carrier doing here in the mountains? And what is she doing inside one? This place is a relic of the past, a forgotten piece of technology no longer needed. It has nothing to do with 11 and her mission.
Then why does it feel familiar?
11 makes her way out of the classroom, thinking she'll just leave. But it turns out her feet have other plans. They lead her purposefully in another direction, and soon she finds herself going down a wide corridor and up a flight of half-collapsed stairs, to stand at the entrance to a cafeteria.
The doors are stuck open, allowing just enough space for her to squeeze through. The moment she sets foot into the spacious room, 11 starts to hear noises. There’s nothing here but age and darkness, yet when 11 focuses, she can clearly hear the echoing of voices, can feel the heat from bodies, smell the oily aroma of fries wafting through the air.
She closes her eyes, and then she’s there…
“I heard you showed up Professor Kindel-James again.”
I ignored the bait and kept my gaze fixed on my pudding.
Lindsey Oswald chuckled. “That man should really know better by now.” She raised her coffee mug to her lips and took a long, noiseless sip. On the front, the Starbucks woman smirked at me with her crescent eyeballs.
“Please stop,” I said.
“Hm?” Lindsey put down her cup. “What was that?”
“I said please stop sitting with me. It feels like having a target painted on my forehead.” I shoveled at my pudding, watching it dance on the spoon. "You have no idea how fucked-up some of the rumors are."
“Jealousy is a powerful motivator,” Lindsey answered. “And I am far too busy to pay mind to the sayings of others. Plus, I happen to enjoy our dinner sessions.”
“I don't.”
I ate angrily, even though it was quite impossible to eat pudding angrily.
Lindsey was quiet. I snuck a glance at her, expecting to see her annoyed or offended. But no, I should’ve known better. Doctor Oswald didn’t do does things. In the three years she’d been in my life, I’d never once seen her pretty face emote anything other than mild amusement.
Looking at her, you get the feeling that the whole world was a plaything to her. Eternal Heaven, the Academy, Pandora’s Gate, they were all the same.
Us, too.
“That wounds me, Aiya,” she said finally, a hand against her chest and that faint smile still on her red-painted lips. “I thought you’d appreciate my company, seeing that Mia is now-”
“Do not talk about her!” I snapped. Immediately, people around us stop to stare. I glared at each of them in turn, until everyone pretended to be engrossed in their food again.
“Mia is one of the Top Ten now,” I said quietly. “She’s in a different world. We have nothing to do with each other anymore.”
Lindsey made a sad sort of noise through her nose. “That’s too bad. But you can still participate in the graduation party next week together. Have you asked her?”
I tossed my spoon aside. “I am not having this conversation with you.” I stood and took my tray of uneaten food to the recycler, tossing it all into its open mouth.
The machine whirled, chewing up what I couldn’t.
In the dusky, deserted cafeteria, 11 touches the rusty metal box sitting in the corner. It’s the size of a furnace, with a gaping maw filled with rounded teeth. Time has worn these teeth into stubs, and brown shrubs have grown between the gaps, some rooted so deeply they’ve pried the gears apart.
Even in such cold and lonely places, there is life still.
11 moves away, slipping out of the cafeteria back out into the hallway.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
“Oof!”
The doors slid open too slow and I was in too much of a hurry to leave Lindsey. I walked into someone, making them drop their…
Coffee. Seriously?
Mia and I both stared at the spilled drink. I spotted foam and dark sprinkles. A cappuccino.
“They really should put up a sign,” said Mia, her voice a mixture of chagrin and exasperation. “Watch out for charging Aiyanos.”
I tried to laugh, or curse or hit her. But I couldn’t. Mia looked awful. Her eyes were red and lost within bruised circles.
“What are you doing here?” I said, only realizing later that this was the first thing I’d said to her in months. I wasn’t lying to Lindsey when I said Mia and me were going in different directions. It didn’t matter that we were all going to end up in the same place eventually. Right now, it felt like we were standing on opposite sides of a chasm.
Mia looked annoyed. “I can’t even set foot inside the same building as you now?” She retrieved her empty cup from the ground and went to toss it in the bin. I followed, not knowing what else to say but,
“You can…”
Mia managed a laugh that somehow sounded more like a sob. “Well, thank you kindly, Miss Saviour of Humanity.” She looked around the cafeteria and that’s when I noticed Lindsey peering at us over her coffee, her eyes sharp behind her black-rimmed glasses.
“Excuse me,” Mia said, and made her way over without sparing another word at me.
I stood by the rubbish bin, stunned out of my mind. The coldness from Mia was one thing, but for a Top Ten to come to the common area was another. What was worse than both those things was why she came.
Like a damn fool, I’d thought it was to look for me.
“Dr. Oswald,” said Mia when she got to Lindsey’s table. She took a seat opposite the Doctor. It was the one I left. “I have a private question I’d like an answer to. If you don’t mind.”
“Certainly,” Lindsey answered, cleaning off the rest of her coffee. “What is it?”
“It’s about the God Giers.”
“Oh?”
Mia nodded. “Perhaps we ought to talk in private.”
“Perhaps we ought to.”
They both rose, Lindsey wiping the lipstick smudge off her cup before putting it back into her bag.
They both moved to the door.
I was still standing there like an idiot, with the cleaning robot whirling at my feet. I kept staring at Mia like I was expecting her to stop and say something to me, to invite me along to whatever private matter they were planning to discuss. But they both breezed past me without either looking my way, and then they were gone, the doors hissing closed after them.
11 follows the ghost of Aiyano down dark hallways, keeping to corners and straying clear of invisible bodies. It isn’t clear why she’s following this ghost, or where she expects to be led, but one thing is certain at this point:
God Gier and human girl, they are both in this together now. They must see it to the end.
I tailed Mia and Lindsey out of the school grounds and into our dormitory building. I couldn’t begin to guess why Mia is heading there, and when Lindsey voiced the same question, her answer was short and to the point.
“It’s the tallest building around this part of the ship.”
They made it to the elevators and took it together. I couldn’t join them, of course, but since I knew where they were going, I took the second lift. By the time the doors opened to the top floor, both Mia and Lindsey were nowhere to be seen. That wasn’t a surprise, because the roof wasn’t actually opened. You had to find the hidden maintenance gate and jimmy the lock, a trick both Mia and I got very good at.
But to think she’d let Lindsey Oswald in on it...
What are you thinking, Mia?
11 climbs up the rust-covered elevator shaft using her hands and feet. All the wires have snapped free, so she has to dig out her own handholds. She keeps her eyes closed as she scales the wall, to try and not to let the claustrophobic darkness get on her nerves.
As she reaches upward, 11’s fingers brush against something furry and instantly, she is surrounded by wings and teeth. She clings to the wall, pushing herself against it as hard-bodied bats pin off her head and back. She feels places on her neck becoming pinched, and imagines the bat clinging to her as their screeching echo around the steel elevator shaft.
But after a while of nothing getting through her skin, the bats leave her alone. 11 hears them fluttering down and away from her until soon, it’s quiet again.
She waits for her breathing to steady before continuing the climb.
When I finally snuck out of the maintenance gate, Lindsey and Mia were already standing at the edge of the roof. I crept along the pipeline to avoid being spotted, keeping as close to the boiling hot metal as I dared.
I needn’t have bothered though, because they were too focused on what was in front of them to look anywhere else.
“Do you see that, Dr. Oswald?” Mia asked, pointing to the horizon where land was beginning to emerge. This was the first time in three years any of us had seen land. But it wasn’t a surprise. We’d been preparing for the Final Docking since August.
“You mean the Demonic Entities?” Lindsey asked. She had one hand on her hip and the other held above her eyes. “I didn’t think they’d be visible yet.”
“It’s not that,” said Mia. She took out a chunky device from her pocket. “It’s this.” She turned a few nobs and a high-pitched keening started coming out of its speakers.
I inched closer. There was a maintenance room close to them and I darted to hide behind it. Now, I was about ten feet away and could see them clearly, but it also meant they could see me too. I took out my pocket mirror. Holding a sliver of it over the corner, I saw Lindsey taking the box-shaped device from Mia.
“Where did you get this?”
“I made it,” Mia answered, not sounding at all proud. “It’s accurate to o.3 Sievert per hour.”
Lindsey turned it around, giving me a view of the tiny screen. It was a Geiger counter.
“Outstanding work.”
“It would be if it’s more accurate.” Mia crossed her arms and turned to face Lindsey. She was standing closer to the edge of the roof than the Doctor, too close actually. Her right heel was basically dangling in space. “But at the levels of radiation we’re getting, even a plus-minus of 0.3 is irrelevant.”
I held my breath. Now this was a surprise.
“At this time tomorrow, we’ll be getting lethal dosages.”
Lindsey handed the homemade Geiger counter back to Mia. “There’s very little need to panic,” she assured her. “Even if the levels are this high, the E.H. Michael has the most advanced radiation counter-measures in the entire fleet. Once we dock, everyone will be hiding below deck while transport to Haven is set up.” She reached into her handbag and produced a tube of lipstick. The canister was black and shone in the setting sunlight.
“Who else have you shown this neat little invention to?”
Mia shook her head. “But what about us? We’ll be fighting up top while everyone is taken underground. I checked the released schematics, Doctor. The Mark II suits have no capability to prevent radiation poisoning of that level. We’ll be keeling over in days.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. There was no way Mia was right. We all knew that the Earth was basically an eradicated wasteland at this point, but that was a big reason why we’d be armored up. I inched closer to the edge of the wall. This was Mia. And Mia didn’t lie about these things. Not to anyone, even Lindsey Oswald.
I heard the click of Lindsey’s lipstick closing. Through the mirror, I saw her playing with the little black canister, turning it between her slender fingers.
“That’s very interesting, Mia. Was this a hypothesis a result of your own independent research?”
Mia looked troubled. “You’re not answering my question, Doctor.”
“I’m simply trying to come up with the right words. I understand this is a troubling deduction you have come across. No doubt whoever told this to you meant it to be.”
“What? N-no.” Mia shook her head vehemently, her brown hair sweeping, catching the dying light. “Of course not. I… I figured it out on my own. Do you think I’d go and spread this news around? It’d cause mass chaos.”
I stuck my pocket mirror the rest of the way out, praying that Mia was too distracted to notice it. I could see her face now. Framed by the sunset, she was gorgeous. The orange light haloed her tanned skin, making it glow. Below us, the ocean sparkled with the same shade of jade of her eyes. My heart skipped, but I also finally knew why she looked so tired for the last few months, why she kept using up her meal tickets on coffee.
She’d discovered something momentous, something with the frightening possibility to derail our entire world.
And yet she couldn’t tell anyone.
A part of me felt awed by her strength, while a more shameless part felt hurt that she didn’t feel like I was trustworthy enough to share the burden with.
“I was right in choosing you for the program,” Lindsey said. “A lesser person would have chosen to spread the rumor rather than confront me about it. So, I thank you, Mia.”
“It isn’t true then?” Mia uncrossed her arms and took a step back from the roof’s ledge. She sounded childishly hopeful. “Is there something I’ve missed?”
Lindsey Oswald said, “No,” then leveled her lipstick canister at Mia like a laser pointer. “Your question was right on the mark.”
Through my mirror, I saw something flash between Lindsey and Mia. Then I saw Mia’s body jerk and lock up. Her face twisted in pain, then in surprise. She tottered back towards the ledge, her legs stiff like they’d been frozen.
I dropped my mirror and raced from behind the wall, but I was too late.
Mia’s eyes met mine. Her mouth opened, forming the first syllable of my name. Then her foot caught on the ledge and she was over.
“MIA!”
Darkness surges around 11’s face as she falls against the edge of the rooftop. She plunges her hands into the cold abyss and screams, her voice echoing back to her.
MIA… IA… A…
“No,” she sobs. “No, please.”
“Please…”
I reached for her. For the space she occupied. I was too late. Much too late. In everything.
Her body was already on the ground. She was looking up at me but I couldn’t tell if she was seeing me. I didn’t want to look at her. I couldn’t stop looking.
I felt a hand on my shoulder.
“What a shame,” Dr. Oswald said. “Such a young soul, tainted by suicide.”
Suicide?
“N-no,” I struggled through my shattered mind, “I… I saw-”
“Nothing you ever want to remember, dear.” The Doctor’s hand on my shoulder tightened. Not much, just enough. “Suicide is a terrible, terrible sin. You’d do well to see this as a warning.”
Was she right? No. I saw something. But what exactly?
My mind reeled through the last few seconds but it was like a wall had come down. Black and cold as ice.
Did I see a flash? Was there something else that followed? What started it?
I couldn’t see Mia anymore. My tears were blocking her out, dressing her up in red. I leaned further over the edge. If I just got closer, I thought, I’ll see her.
Dr. Oswald yanked me back onto the roof.
“Gather your senses, Aiyano.” Her authoritative tone sliced through my hysteria. “There’s still time to save her.”
My eyes widened, spilling tears. “W-what?”
“The time for a brain to die,” Dr. Oswald said. She was putting something inside her purse but I didn’t remember seeing her take anything out. “What is it?”
“I-It’s…” I tried to think. Tried to keep breathing. “Three minutes for brain damage... t-ten for death.”
“Very good,” said Dr. Oswald. “So what should you do now?”
This I knew. We were taught about this during our first years at the Academy. I raised my wrist computer up to speak.
“Emergency code… c-code... 10212.”
I got a response immediately.
> Secure perimeters. Number?
I opened my mouth and a sob tore out of me, taking all the air I had.
> Number?
I held my wrist to my chest. I was crying so much I couldn’t get any air inside my lungs anymore. I didn't even know where or who I was.
“Oh for God’s sake.” Dr. Oswald took my wrist and answered for me. “Number Ten. Mia Robinson.”
In front of us, the blazing orange sun dropped behind the rising landmass. Besides me, Lindsey Oswald’s rain-grey eyes took on the color of steel. Looking at me, she spoke into the computer on my wrist,
“And hurry it up. It was a long fall.”