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The earth trembled. Juli looked up as the city around her fell silent. Earthquakes were nothing new, but after the collapse of a minor support last year everyone was wary.
A few leaves fell from the canopy, but nothing more. The earthquake ended, passing beyond the city walls. Movement began again, almost like someone pushed “play” on a video they’d paused for a few seconds.
“Three point… seven,” Juli guessed. “Hundred miles away.”
Mari, walking next to her, shook her head. “It was over too fast. Has to be closer.”
“Yeah,” Paulo said.
Juli stuck her tongue out at the twelve-year-old. “You’re just agreeing with her because she let you come with us.”
Paulo looked offended. “No, I think the epicenter was closer! I think it was a three point five.”
Mari sped up, then spun around to walk backwards. “Ladies and gentlemen, place your bets! How far away was the epicenter, and how strong was the earthquake?”
Juli held out her hand. “I bet one ice cream cone that the earthquake was a hundred miles away, with a strength of three point seven!”
“I bet two ice cream cones that the earthquake was fifty miles away, three point five,” Paulo declared, putting his hand on hers.
“Two, wow, very certain,” Juli teased, watching Mari look up the data on her phone.
“Three point six,” Mari announced, grinning.
Juli curled her fingers around her cousin’s, feeling the tension in his hand as Mari drug out the moment.
“The distance was…” She took a deep breath, making them wait longer. “Sixty-two miles away.”
“Ha!” Paulo yanked Juli towards him, flicking her forehead as she stumbled forwards. “You owe me ice cream!”
“Heck. Mari, why did you invite him?”
Mari grinned, taking a picture of them before putting her phone away. “He’s cute.”
Paulo bristled, but didn’t comment.
The girls laughed, giving an exaggerated “Awwww” at the expression.
“I can go by myself,” he grumbled, face turning red as he picked up the pace.
The girls laughed, dropping the teasing as they made their way towards the Bolivia Support. Originally it had been named West Support, but “west” didn’t have much of a meaning any more. No direction did, not in the way they used to. Now the cardinal directions, applicable within 200 miles of Cuiabá, were Amazon, Ocean, Impact, and Bolivia. Impact was universal for North and South America.
It didn’t take long for them to reach the support, a giant steel tower that held up the canopy. The canopy was a net, covered with ancient vines. It held up UV lamps that emulated the sunlight they couldn’t see, and kept out the worst of the weather. Mari’s dad was one of the workers who maintained the vines, making sure they didn’t grow too heavy. The walls were made of the same net, but there was less of a need to keep them clean and light. As such, decades of dead leaves, dust and volcanic ash had covered it in a concrete-like substance. The exits of the city now opened out ten feet underground, even though the original encampment had been on a hill.
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
There was a line of people at the bottom of the support, waiting to climb up the safety ladder. A guard wrote down names as they reached the ladder. Mari walked up to him confidently.
“Hi Teo, mind if we climb up the side?” she asked, smiling her brightest smile.
“Your dad would kill me if you fell,” he informed her.
“There are three of us, give us a leash,” she suggested.
Juli nodded. “Mari’s dad has trained us in all the safety procedures.”
Teo glanced at Paulo. “Even him?”
“Yes, sir,” Paulo said.
Teo gave an exaggerated sigh. “Fine, go grab a leash. But let me see that you have it on properly before you climb.”
“Thank you!” they called, running to the maintenance shed.
They were used to climbing the minor supports. The smaller, lighter ones made of bamboo that mostly existed as a backup for the main ones. Mari’s father had, upon hearing they raced to the top when Juli and Mari were eight, spent a weekend teaching them the dangers of falling and how to avoid it. He’d done the same for Paulo when the boy turned six, although that lesson doubled as a refresher course for the then thirteen year old girls.
Within minutes they were back in front of Teo, letting him look over the harnesses and leash. Paulo was between the girls, the proper place for the lightest in the group. Teo nodded in approval, putting pen to paper.
“Maria Elena the famous, Juli Anna the annoying, P… Pedro?”
“Paulo.”
“Paulo Whatever the brother of Juli,” Teo finished. They didn’t bother to correct him. “Up you go.”
They thanked him again, walked to the corner of the support, and started to climb.
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The higher they climbed, the colder it got. They appreciated it, since climbing ninety feet straight up made them hot. There were ledges every thirty feet, for the convenience of workers, where the group stopped to rest their hands. Finally, they reached the top; a wider, solid platform off which the net hung. Warning signs were posted along the four edges:
Caution! Going beyond this point without full leash prohibited! No one above 250 pounds allowed on canopy!
Paulo and Mari grinned at Juli. She held up her hand.
“Ask how much I weigh and I will push you off the edge,” she warned, stepping onto the canopy.
White flakes drifted down from a cloud bank behind them. Paulo stopped, catching one on his open palm.
“I’ve never seen snow before,” he said softly.
“Really?” Mari asked.
Juli looked up at the twilight sky. “Aunt Ceci is afraid of snow. She’s forbidden us from leaving the city when it’s snowed.”
“Oh. Are you…”
“No, I’m fine,” Juli shrugged. “A few flakes won’t do any damage.”
“What about half the city standing on the canopy?” Paulo asked, motioning to the crowd around them.
Mari considered it. “That might be a problem. But, we have a leash, so we won’t die in the collapse.”
“Comforting,” Juli laughed.
They made their way to the edge, found a spot no one else had taken, and settled down. The sun sat at the edge of the horizon, stretched thin by the atmosphere. Mari took pictures, Juli made jokes, and Paulo caught snowflakes. Around them people chatted in hushed tones. Slowly, conversation stopped. The sun sank, until it was just an orange blip on the horizon. Mari started a video.
And then the sun was gone.
Juli felt, strangely, like she was going to cry.
The sun was gone. They wouldn’t see it for another four months.
Sure, they’d had UV lights for centuries. The only ones who saw the real sun were canopy workers, or people who traveled. Juli was neither of those. But still…
“Bye,” Paulo said softly.
Juli laughed, putting her arm around his shoulders. “Bye, sun!”
“Good-bye!” Mari shouted at the horizon.
“Have a safe trip!” Paulo called.
Around them, others called out to the sun.
Juli waved. “We’ll be waiting!”
Mari snickered. “Bring me a souvenir!”
“Don’t forget about us!” Paulo shouted.
“We’ll miss you!”
“Adios!”
“Bonjour!”
“That’s ‘hello’, idiot.”
“Oh. Not-bonjour!”
“Farewell!”
“Good-bye!”
“Bye!”