“School isn’t out yet.”
“I know. I got them each a little gift.”
She smiled again, but her lips trembled a bit.
Merak had refused to install lifts in his house, except the one leading to the roof. He’d told his family countless times, “We have two legs. If we don’t use them, they’ll get weak.”
His own legs, strengthened by long runs and early mornings in the gym, took him down a set of stairs to the first floor and across the home’s main hall into the children’s wing.
He kept suggesting they rename it the offspring wing. Arisa always refused, saying, “It makes it sound like a science lab.” He capitulated, but he still thought it was silly. It had been nineteen years since their daughter made them parents. Their son followed two years later. He couldn’t consider either of them children anymore.
He stopped at his son’s suite first, groaning as soon as he entered. Clothes and paper books—his son’s favorite luxury—covered the floor, the bed, and the desk. How the boy could live in a place this messy, Merak couldn’t guess. He left the gift, a small bag of his son’s favorite chewy candy, on the desk. Hopefully he’d find it before it dried out.
His daughter’s suite was a different story. Everything was tidy. The pale-green blanket on the bed was perfectly smooth, and her desk was actually clean enough to discern the color: bright yellow, her favorite.
The room looks too juvenile, he thought, not for the first time. He’d talk to the house manager about a remodel. New window coverings and a darker blanket would make the room more fit for a nineteen-year-old. Nothing but the very best for my girl.
Merak set the candy on the desk. Then he sat on the bed for a moment, contemplating his upcoming day. When he stood, he turned to smooth the blanket, then stopped himself. A bedroom needs a little bit of mess.
SUNDAY, QUARI 7, 6293
-62 DAYS
The next morning, it was still dark when Merak told Arisa goodbye. He was headed on a longer trip this time. Arisa gave him a sleepy kiss and offered to get up and see him off, but he smiled and told her to stay in bed.
Merak took his glider to his personal solarplane. There, he greeted the pilot and settled into one of the comfortable seats.
They took off, and before long, they were flying into the sunrise. The flight was several hours long, and the time change compressed the day significantly. It was already dark in the nation of Therro when they landed. Merak disembarked and walked straight to the research center. Normally it would be closed for the day, but he’d alerted them of his arrival, and most of the windows were lit.
Merak stepped in the lobby. “Misha!” he said to the receptionist. “You don’t need to be here at this time of night. Head on out and get a bite to eat.”
The young man thanked him and left.
Merak stepped up to the door behind the desk. The flexscreen in his pocket unlocked it. He walked down two hallways, then stopped at the entrance to a large room. In the middle were lab stations with instruments that screamed state of the art and expensive. More equipment sat along the back wall, most of which Merak couldn’t guess the purpose of. Workstations, several of which were occupied, lined the other three walls.
Merak spent a moment watching the researchers, none of whom noticed him standing in the doorway. Fingers and hands flew across letterkeys and deskscreens, dedication and passion clear in the workers’ motions. He smiled and said, “Good evening.”
Every head snapped up, and cheerful greetings reached his ears.
“How are things going?” he asked.
Several researchers responded, but one voice rose above the others: “You’ve got to see this, Mr. Merak.”
Merak shifted his attention to Efren Rouven, a medical researcher. Despite waiting for dig approval, researchers had been working in Therro for months. They conducted thorough surveys of the dig site, compiled existing records, and analyzed data. Recently, sensors in the area had picked up some unexpected readings, and the lead analyst had suggested Merak bring on several new staff. Rouven was one of those, having just arrived two days before.
Dr. Rouven beckoned Merak to his workstation on the right side of the room. Before Merak even reached him, the researcher began talking. “I’ve been analyzing readings from the site, and they’re very promising.” His thick, wavy, black hair trembled as he nodded enthusiastically.
Before Merak could respond, the woman next to Dr. Rouven stood from her workstation. “Pardon me, Mr. Merak.” Her gaze was sharp, and her eyes’ orange hue intensified the effect.
Merak racked his brain for her name. She’d started working here the same day as Dr. Rouven. Like him, she was a medical researcher with over two decades of experience. Just before Merak was about to respond with a generic greeting, it hit him. Dr. Nomi Anson. “Dr. Anson!” he said, his smooth tone not betraying his brief forgetfulness.
She stepped closer to him, not returning his smile. “I wouldn’t call this analysis promising. I’d call it frightening.”
8
SUNDAY, QUARI 7, 6293
-62 DAYS
The morning after her argument with Rona, Ellin got dressed and exited her room. Her sister’s door was still closed, the light off.
Ellin made hot cereal and sat at the table. She was enjoying it until her mind once again started swirling with questions and possibilities. A twisting, aching sensation entered her gut, forcing her to put her spoon down and push her bowl away.
How quickly will Rona’s mind deteriorate? Will she turn into a completely different person? Maybe she’ll become unpredictable or violent.
Or maybe it’ll give her some empathy.
Ellin wanted to laugh at that last possibility, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She hated the thought of waking up to a different sister, even one who’d turned into a kinder shadow of her real self.
Underneath all the questions was the one that Ellin tried to squash down every time it rose into her consciousness. What if I’m wrong about Rona and she’s right about the end of the world?
Seeking a distraction, Ellin pulled out her flex.
Within minutes, she was lost in research, anxiety forgotten. After an hour, she checked the time: nearly nine. Trett was usually up by now, even on a Sunday. She emmed him, asking if she could come over. When he said yes, she put her food in the refrigerator and walked the three blocks to Trett’s house.
He opened the door as she was walking up. “Want to go on a ride?” he asked.
“Sure.”
They circled behind his house to the garage where he kept his double hover scooter—dubhov for short. It sat next to the family’s small glidecraft. Ellin and Rona usually took public transportation wherever their own feet couldn’t carry them, but Trett’s parents could afford some luxuries.
Trett handed her a helmet ring. She pulled it over her head like a stretchy necklace, then pushed a button. The ring molded to fit her neck, snug but flexible, its warmth as comforting as her flex was on her arm. A thin, firm, breathable membrane shot out of the ring, creating a transparent dome around her head. She took a deep breath, enjoying the scent of ozone the helmet’s expansion left behind.
Trett unplugged the dubhov from its charging port and swung his leg over his seat. Ellin got on behind him. The device lifted off the ground noiselessly, and they exited the garage and took to the streets.
“How’s your sister this morning?” Trett’s voice rang through the small speaker in Ellin’s helmet.
“She wasn’t up yet when I left. I do have some news, though. I spent an hour this morning reading more about splicing. I know what we need to do next.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, but I’d rather tell you over coffee.”
“Why didn’t you say so? We’ll get some at my house.” Trett pulled to the right side of the street, like he was about to turn around.
Ellin swatted his arm lightly. “Don’t you dare feed me that swill your father drinks.”
Trett laughed and kept going. Th
ey passed pedestrians, some of whom were walking their caynins. There were plenty of other hovs on the road too, plus a sun-powered solarbus and several solarcars. Overhead, glidecrafts whooshed by, and in the distance, the city’s Skytrains sped along their elevated tracks.
Leaves and fronds on all the trees sparkled from the previous night’s rain. The spring breeze was light and cool. Ellin released a contented sigh and squeezed Trett’s waist tighter. He let go of one of the handlebars and rested his hand on her arm.
A few minutes later, they reached Old World Coffee. It was where they’d gone for their first date and at least half their subsequent outings, and the drinks there were far better than what they’d get at Trett’s house. His father had good taste in transportation but scrimped on cheap coffee.
Thanks to distinct genetic differences, biologists could pinpoint which organisms were native to Anyari and which were Original—from Earth. Scientists had created a few hybrids between Anyarian and Original plants, but most species from the two worlds were incompatible.
Humans shouldn’t have been able to digest Anyarian food. At a molecular level, it was too different from Earth food. That issue had been solved through human genetic modification. The evidence was in every cell of Ellin’s body: her ancestors’ very DNA had been engineered, allowing them to utilize Anyarian proteins and nutrients. It was a stunning feat that modern researchers couldn’t duplicate. Clearly it had been done before the colonists left Earth, by scientists who’d attained samples of Anyarian plants and animals. Every child born on Anyari benefited from these ancient enhancements.
As much as she appreciated native foods, Ellin owed a special debt of gratitude to her forebears for some of the seeds they’d brought from Earth, like those that grew cacao trees, blueberry bushes, and yes, coffee plants. However, she could’ve done without the eggplants and carrots.
Inside, Trett ordered tea, and Ellin got her usual—a chocolate cup of coffee. The cup itself was made from chocolate that melted easily on the inside and was resistant to melting on the outside. She added crem, then took a sip of the smooth, chocolatey concoction. Perfect. She led Trett outside, where there weren’t as many patrons.
They sat, and Trett took her hand and smiled over his cup. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”
Ellin leaned in close and spoke in a hushed voice. “Remember Rona used that term splice? It’s a term mostly used by researchers. They call it that because eventually, a seer’s mind splices reality and prophecy together.” She pulled her hand away, demonstrating by interlocking her fingers.
“That makes sense. How do we know if Rona is splicing?”
Ellin sipped her coffee. “We need to test her.” She took a bite from the rim of her chocolate cup. “Let’s finish our drinks and go to my house. Our mission today is to provoke a prophecy.”
Rona’s door was still closed when Ellin and Trett got home. They walked through the house, following the checklist in Ellin’s mind. She hid Rona’s favorite coffee mug and her keys, and Trett moved one of Rona’s shoes to the back door, leaving the other shoe by the front entrance. Last, Ellin carefully opened Rona’s bedroom door. Rona was still asleep, and Ellin crept past her into the bathroom, where she moved her sister’s toothbrush from the countertop to a drawer.
She met Trett back in the living room and settled on the couch next to him.
“Now we wait for her to wake up,” Ellin said.
“Any chance she’ll think this is a harmless little prank?”
“I wish.” Ellin sighed. “She’s gonna be pissed, especially if she realizes we’re the ones messing with her. It’s really not my goal to make her miserable, but from everything I’ve seen through the years, she’s more likely to have a vision if her routines get thrown off. Let’s just hope it works.”
Trett turned and traced her lips with his finger. “You’re brilliant.”
She smiled and squelched a surge of desire. Hold it together, Ellin, we have more important things to focus on. She gave his finger a peck and pulled her flexscreen off her arm. “Let’s see if we can find out anything else about that archeological dig.”
They didn’t find any information they hadn’t seen the day before, so Ellin set her flex to notify her if the term Cellerin Mountain appeared in any new stories. Then she worked on her history paper while Trett lay on the couch with his flex, reading a book about ancient human mythology.
Rona still hadn’t exited her room when, in mid-afternoon, Ellin’s flex buzzed. A newsorg had just posted a video from the Cellerin Project dig site. Ellin played it, keeping the volume low.
On the screen, a young reporter stood in front of a nondescript wall. “I’m in Therro,” she said, “where a world-class team of archeologists and researchers has gathered at Cellerin Mountain. This is the first such dig that the Therroan government has ever allowed. We received word a short time ago that preliminary digging has already led to an unexpected discovery.
“Something within the mountain contains a radioactive signature that on-site scientists haven’t seen before. They’re trying to identify the particular isotope causing the radiation. Precautions are being taken at the dig site to protect workers from the radiation.
“Merak Technologies is funding this entire project. I’m at the Merak facility in Therro now, where Alvun Merak has agreed to speak with us.”
The camera panned out, revealing Alvun Merak standing near the reporter. He was tall and fit, with dark hair and kind, brown eyes. His blue, button-down shirt hung perfectly on his frame in a way only expensive, tailored clothes did. He sported a friendly smile as he greeted the reporter.
“I know you’ve had a long day, Mr. Merak, and I appreciate you joining us.”
“It’s no problem. This project is all about discovery and education, and we want to keep the public notified of everything we find. Even if that means I miss out on a little beauty sleep—something most people would say I can’t afford to lose.”
The reporter laughed and asked, “What can you tell us about this new discovery?”
“It’s still very early,” Merak said, “but the radiation in the area seems similar to the beneficial radiation we use in clinics around the world to heal cuts and perform quick, targeted cancer treatment. We look forward to finding out more about its source and capabilities.”
“As do we,” the reporter said. She told Merak goodbye and assured her audience she’d be on top of any new information. The video ended.
Ellin and Trett looked at each other, but before either of them could say a word, Rona croaked, “ ‘Morning.”
Ellin looked up. “Good afternoon.” Her response earned her a disgusted look from her sleepy sister.
Rona walked into the kitchen. Her voice reached Ellin’s and Trett’s ears: “Where’s my coffee mug?” Dishes clattered, and she added, “First my toothbrush, now this.” A couple of minutes later, she walked to her room, holding her coffee, not even looking at Ellin and Trett. She closed her door.
Ellin looked at Trett and sighed. “So much for my plan.”
Trett turned on the wallscreen and watched a mindless show while Ellin continued to do schoolwork. Rona stayed in her room. Eventually, Trett left to pick up dinner.
Rona soon appeared. “I’m going for a walk.” She got to the front door and muttered, “Where’s my other shoe? Why isn’t anything where it’s supposed to be today?” She strode into the living room, and just as she was passing the couch where Ellin sat, she stopped.
“What?” Ellin asked. Then she realized Rona’s pale-brown eyes were glazed over, a sure sign of a vision. Thankfully she stayed on her feet, rather than collapsing quietly as she sometimes did or experiencing a repeat of yesterday’s scene at the senior center.
A few seconds passed, and Rona came back to herself and stared at Ellin. “Have you been working at some job you haven’t told me about?”
“No, I’m busy with school. You know that.”
“Well, I don’t know how you’ll manage it, but you
’re getting your own hover scooter very soon. It’ll be parked in front of the house. ” Her face twitched with a smirk. “It’ll be purple.” She looked toward the back door, retrieved her shoe, and put it on, adding, “By the way, it’s immutable.”
As Rona exited, Ellin nearly cried with relief. She probably wouldn’t have her own hov until she was a full-fledged technisurgeon at age thirty. It certainly wouldn’t be “very soon.” Plus, she hated purple. She’d never willingly purchase a purple hov, or a purple anything else for that matter.
It meant her sister was splicing, and while none of them wanted to see that happen, it also meant the world wasn’t ending. With Rona’s mental deterioration starting so early, maybe it would be a slow process. Perhaps they could even confide in a trustworthy doctor; medical technology had come a long way since the last known seer had spliced.
Ellin tried to focus on her homework, but her mind kept returning to her questions: What would Rona’s mental decline look like? What was the best way to broach the topic again? At last, she gave in to her anxious thoughts and collapsed her flex.
Someone rang the doorbell. Ellin looked up at the wallscreen, which showed the porch camera feed in one corner. A man she’d never seen before stood there. He looked straight at the camera, smiled, and waved.
Weirdo. Ellin ignored him, and after ringing the bell one more time and waiting far longer than he should have, he left.
A couple of minutes later, Trett walked in. Ellin jumped up. “I’ve got news.”
Trett was already wearing a huge smile. “Mine first,” he said, setting down the food he’d picked up. “Just as I walked up, a man was leaving the house. He said nobody came to the door.”
“Yeah, but—”
Trett kept going. “Turns out there was a drawing today at the rec center. Everyone who volunteered there in the last week had a chance to win a hov, provided by Merak. You won!” He grabbed Ellin’s hand and tried to pull her to the door.
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 6