by Ally Condie
“We are ready,” Nevio says. “I will see you at the surface.”
“Aren’t you coming with us?” one of the other sirens asks in dismay.
“I am coming up right behind you, in another transport,” Nevio says, his voice soothing. “As the Minister, there are matters of prayer I need to attend to, alone, in order to help ensure our success. But I will see you soon in the Above. And I leave my blessing upon you.”
He nods to all of us and disappears through the door of the transport. As soon as he’s gone through, the door slides shut and I hear the lock engaging. Now that the door is closed, it’s hard to see where it was before—it fits into the wall so smoothly. There’s no handle or opening mechanism on the inside. “No going back now,” one of the sirens says. “Once the door’s locked, it won’t open again until we’re at the surface.”
Another siren, one about my mother’s age, sits down in front of me. “You’ve ruined your makeup,” she says. She takes out a cloth and wipes my cheeks. She doesn’t seem surprised, and I suppose she understands. How could I not weep at the siren sounds, both ugly and beautiful?
“I think we’re doing this wrong,” I say. “All of this. The makeup, the commands. We should try to be more human, not less. We should try to talk to them. To the people Above. We should plead with them, convince them that this is what they want to do. Use our voices, but then let them make the choice. They won’t hate us that way.”
The sirens stare at me as if I’m not even speaking their language.
“Is this your idea, Maire?” one of them asks. “It sounds like you.”
“I don’t know why the Minister and the Council decided to let you come.” One of the male sirens sneers at my aunt. I stare in disbelief. How can he treat Maire so casually? Does he have no idea of what she can do?
“Because I’m powerful,” Maire says, and there is no anger in her voice. Only sorrow. “And the Minister and the Council know that. Until today they have always wanted me alive.”
Until today? What does Maire mean?
Why does she never tell me the whole truth?
I think about what she said earlier:
“The Minister is speaking to the other sirens right now. He is telling them that we are the Below’s last chance for survival. He will let them know that we are going to the Above to remind the people there of their place in the world, and of ours. He will say that the people of the Above are tired of providing for us Below, and they do not plan to continue to do so. The Minister will say that this mission is essential to the survival of Atlantia. He is right.”
But I also think about what Maire didn’t say. She didn’t say Nevio was telling the sirens the truth about everything. She only said that this mission is essential to the survival of Atlantia.
Something is very, very wrong here, and I don’t know what it is. I think Maire does. And she hasn’t told me.
I can’t bear it. I stand up and walk to the other end of the transport.
Maire follows me. “Save your tears and your anger,” she says. “You’re going to need them when we reach the Above.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because I do tell the truth about some things. Your mother needed me. Your sister did, too. When I said that to you, it wasn’t a lie.”
She slides a corner of paper out from her sleeve. I know the writing on it.
It’s a letter from Bay.
“She told me that I was only to give it to you if you tried to go Above,” Maire says.
I snatch the letter from Maire before she can say anything more.
Rio,
If you read this, it means I’ve gone Above and that I managed to keep my decision to leave a secret from you.
And it means that you are trying to go Above. I know you. I know you won’t give up until you find a way. But you have to remain Below.
I don’t know where I should begin, but I know that I have to tell you everything so that you can understand why you have to stay.
Our mother didn’t tell me until a few weeks before she died that you could never go Above. I wonder if she was starting to suspect what you’ve always wanted to do. She told me about the history of the sirens. They used to go Above, but they’ve been banned from doing so for generations. They hate the sirens Above, Rio, and they will kill you as soon as they know what you are. You won’t be able to speak Above, not any more than you can speak Below.
I asked her why she didn’t tell you this, and she said it was because she didn’t want to break your heart.
A few weeks later, she died. And all I could think about, besides who killed her, was keeping you safe.
So I made you promise that you would stay. And I decided that I’d have to go Above when the time came. I didn’t want to leave Atlantia, but this was the best way to protect you—to guarantee that you couldn’t ever go. I had to hide my plan from you. It felt impossible. You know we didn’t hide things from each other.
But I’m not leaving you alone.
I’m giving Maire this letter to give to you, and some money, too, so you can use it for whatever you might need.
Maire will watch over you and make sure you survive. You need to be where she is, now that our mother is gone.
I’m so sorry, Rio.
But I have to go to keep you safe.
I love you.
Bay
I swallow. An angry, hard ache in my throat makes it difficult.
This is just like my mother and Bay. Always protecting me.
“Always underestimating you,” Maire says out loud next to me.
I don’t want to listen to her. I’m still angry with her. She was supposed to give me this before I was actually on my way to the surface. Now I’m locked in the transport with no way out.
“You didn’t play fair,” I say.
“I only cheat when I have to,” Maire tells me. “But what I said now is true. Your mother and your sister loved you, but they never understood your potential. I do.”
I hear the sound of the door unlocking. All the sirens look dumbfounded. “I thought that, once it was locked, no one else could enter,” someone says.
“That’s what they said,” another agrees.
“Interesting,” Maire says. “Are they letting one of us out?”
They are not.
When the door opens, peacekeepers stand at the ready to keep us from attempting to exit. They escort someone in, and then they close the door behind him.
It’s True.
The transport begins to move.
CHAPTER 22
My entire world is in motion, the transport slipping toward the surface, the pieces and people I thought I knew moving into new places.
My mother knew I wanted to come Above.
My sister left to try to save me.
I’m going to the surface with my last family member from Below, one I’m not at all sure I can trust.
And True is here. Why? He is not a siren.
I haven’t seen him since that night after the breach in the deepmarket—less than two days ago, but it feels like much longer. Does he know what I tried to do at the floodgates?
True’s eyes lock on mine. The lights of the transport flicker briefly off and then back on, and I remember how the light filtered through the slats of the stall in the deepmarket and how it felt to kiss him under the naked silver trees, in the gondola in the fog.
“Who is this?” the deepmarket siren asks.
“Another siren,” Maire says. “Nevio found him at the last minute.”
True nods, going along with her.
“I hope you’re telling the truth,” the siren says. “We need you with us, Maire. This mission has to go perfectly.” She appeals to True and me. “Do you know what the Minister has promised in return for our success?”
I shake my head.
“If we succeed,” the siren says, “Nevio is going to make us part of the Council. Can you imagine?”
I can’t. Nevio would never let such a thing happen. He’s lied to the sirens, and for some reason they’ve chosen to believe him. I glance over at Maire, and she smiles very slightly. So she knew what the Minister promised. Once again she hasn’t been completely honest with me.
One of the sirens hands True a blue robe, and he pulls it on over his clothes. He and Maire and I sit down together at the far end of the transport so that the others can’t hear us talk. It feels strange and wrong not to touch him, but there are too many people watching.
“Why are you here?” I ask True. It comes out flat and cold and nothing like my real voice, or my real feelings.
“The Minister found me,” True says. When he speaks, I love the sound. But it’s my fault he’s here. And Maire’s, for giving out his name.
“Nevio told me you were going Above,” True says. “He wanted to know if I’m a hidden siren, too. I’m not. But I told him what I can do, and he let me come.”
I feel us ascending, the slow pull of the transport through the water. I hear the air changing, feel the pressure inside the transport adjusting. Even though I’m worried about everything—Maire, Bay, True—I can’t stop the pulse of excitement, the thrill that I am at last going to see the Above. This is what I’ve wanted for so long. What will it be like?
And True is with me.
It would be safer if he stayed behind, but I don’t know if I would wish him away.
“What do you mean?” I ask True. “Did you tell him about all the things you can make?” I’m thinking of the metal fish, the eels, the locks. And then I realize that of course that’s not what True means—he means that he told the Minister about being immune. But why would Nevio send True up with us? There are many other people in Atlantia who are immune to the sirens’ songs, and they’re not here.
“No,” True says. He takes a deep breath. “Rio, I haven’t told you everything.”
What else can there be? He’s immune, he heard me speak—isn’t that everything? Isn’t that enough secrets? “What is it?” I ask.
“I can tell when a siren is lying,” he says. His voice sounds shaky. “Once I knew what Nevio was, I listened carefully. And I could tell that he lied in the broadcast when he said the breach was an accident. Someone caused it.”
“Who?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” True says.
I glance at Maire. I remember how I saw her down in the deepmarket, how I wondered if she had had something to do with the break.
“I didn’t help them,” she says. “It was Nevio, and the Council. They altered the controls and compromised the pressurization system. They wanted the deepmarket dead.”
“I believe her,” True says.
Maire smiles. She does not seem surprised at True’s secret. But I am.
“I’ve never heard of someone being able to do this,” I say.
“I know,” True says. “I hadn’t, either.”
“So you’re immune to sirens,” I say, trying to get it straight, “and you know when they’re lying?”
“Yes,” True says.
“How can you be sure?” I ask, because how could anyone know that?
True shrugs. “Things have happened,” he says. “I know.” The laugh lines, the sun on his skin, the brown and gold of his eyes—it is all still the same. He’s still the same. But I should have known there was even more to him, that all the empathy he has shown me also indicated an understanding of mystery, of keeping back part of yourself. He knows what it’s like to have depths that others don’t, that are dangerous to share.
“So I’ll have to take your word for it.”
True nods.
“Even though you’ve lied to me,” I say, trying to put up one last wall.
“I didn’t lie,” True says. “I had secrets I wasn’t sure I could tell you. You felt the same way.” He’s right, of course. I never did let him know what I planned to do to get to the Above.
“Does it work with people who aren’t sirens?”
“No,” True says. “Only with sirens. If I listen closely, I can hear something in their voices when they’re not telling the truth. It sounds like the wrong note in a song. I don’t know how to explain it better than that.”
“But you were affected by me,” I say, trying to understand everything. “You said that you heard me calling to you in my real voice when the breach happened.” Even though that was imaginary, the thought of my real voice was enough to impact him, which shouldn’t be the case if he’s truly immune.
“Yes,” he says. “I’m affected by you. Not your voice.” I hear him swallow. “Do you believe me?”
“I want to believe you,” I say.
“Nevio tested me to make sure I was telling the truth,” True says. “He told me some things, said for me to tell him if he was lying or not. I guess I passed his test, because he decided to send me with you. He said that I’ll be useful, because I can tell if any of the sirens are trying to sabotage the mission. He said it was my responsibility to stop them.”
“And you believe that’s why he sent you?” Maire asks.
True looks right in her eyes. “No,” he says. “I acted like I did. But he knew I was lying. We all know why I’m really here.”
“Why are you here?” I ask.
I want to hear him say it. I want it almost as much as I want the Above.
“Because of you,” he says. “I wanted to come with you.”
True’s arm and shoulder are warm next to mine, and I want to turn right into him, to have his arms around me and mine around him, as we come to the Above. But I don’t want the sirens to see, to think there’s any reason for him being there other than the one Maire’s given. I want to protect him as much as I can, though it may be too late.
Nevio sent True up so he wouldn’t have to worry about True’s talent and the problems it could cause for a lying, siren Minister. And Nevio made promises to the sirens because he doesn’t think he’s going to have to keep those promises.
The Minister doesn’t plan on any of us coming back from the Above.
And even though I realize this, I still want to go. Something in my heart feels like it is opening. I imagine the water outside lightening, too, the deep ocean blue of it turning the color of the sky and the sun. If I could get off the transport this moment and go back home, I wouldn’t do it. Is it because of Bay? Or because True is here? Or because the Above is where I’ve always wanted to be?
“We can’t stay on the transport when we arrive,” Maire tells the two of us, her voice quiet. “They’re not going to send it back down with anyone aboard, and we’re trapped in here. Our best chance of escape is to get out and do what we can.”
“The sirens aren’t what I expected,” I say. “They’re so—tame. So controlled.”
“There used to be more of us,” Maire says. “There used to be more like me.”
“What happened?”
“The others were culled and eliminated,” Maire says. “They were too dangerous.”
“Why not you?”
“I think Oceana did what she could to protect me,” Maire says. “And I told you. I am always willing to do what I must to stay alive.”
Her voice is hard. I wonder what she has done. I don’t want to ask.
“Stay with me when we get Above,” Maire says. “Do what I say. I promised my sister I would take care of you, and I will.”
In this moment I believe her. I can see from True’s face that he does, too.
If this is the moment of my own death, this time I want to inhabit it. I reach out and hold True’s hand, and his fingers tighten around mine. And I imagine what our transport looks like moving up through the water, from dark to light, past the u
ncurious fish and the dying coral, on to things I have never seen but know enough to imagine, like sand on a shore, and birds swimming on the surface of the ocean, dipping their beaks down to eat.
“Remember,” the deepmarket siren says to all of us as the transport stops. “Our voices are the Below’s best weapons. We are miracles, meant for this moment.”
I don’t know that I’m a miracle, but I do believe I was meant for this moment Above, however long or short it may be.
CHAPTER 23
The door slides open, and for the first time in my life I see both sky and land, and they are blue and gray and green and brown and so much lighter than the deep of the ocean that I feel dizzy.
I am Above.
Whatever else happens, I am Above.
It is all glinting light and moving air, light coming down from the sky and reflecting on the water, on the metal bridge that leads from the transport to the shore, air touching every inch of my skin, warm. The sun is a hot, orange circle, like a single piece of coin burning as it dips toward the ocean. I grab on to the rail of the bridge that leads to the land, unsteady on my feet. And then I think I’m going to be sick. It is disconcerting in the extreme to be standing over the water, to see the top of the ocean. It might be how people who live Above would feel if they could stand over the sky.
“It’s all right,” Maire says, and she holds my arm and helps me cross the bridge.
I take my first step ever on real land—on sand, fine and white and brown and mixed through with grass and shells, so much texture, more than even the woodwork in the temple, more than I’ve seen in all my life.
I suck in deep lungfuls of the air, rich and warm and oxygenated, even though I know it’s also thick with pollution and the particulate matter that will eat my lungs away with cancer. My hands still have salt on them from the sea, from my attempt to surface hours ago.
“Rio,” True says. “Trees.”
He’s right. There are silver-gray trees with ash-colored moss hanging from them growing right up out of the sand a few feet in front of us. The color is similar to the trees I know, but they are not the trees I know—these trees are alive, and when their leaves fall off, no one bothers to put them back on because new ones grow. And you could never reattach these fallen leaves—soft, brittle as paper, crumbling in my hands as I bend down to pick them up. I can’t help myself.