“Who’s that?” Trett asked.
“He’s the scientist who discovered that last isotope. He died two days after his discovery. In fact, worldwide scientific agencies have advised against anyone trying to recreate his work. The radiation from that isotope is too dangerous.”
After a minute or two of silence, Trett said, “Tell me we’re looking at this wrong.”
Ellin ran a hand through her greasy hair. “We’re seeing it right. The radiation at the dig site is similar to beneficial radiation, just like Merak’s been saying—but it’s far more similar to the radiation that killed that scientist.”
TUESDAY, CYON 5, 6293
-32 DAYS
Trett crawled into bed on Tuesday night. He checked his flex one more time, just in case he’d missed a message from Ellin. Nope.
Considering the quality of information they’d gathered, Ellin had hoped to write the article quickly. Apparently it had been harder than she’d expected—two days had passed, and she’d barely left the office. She ate meals at her desk, only responding to about half of the How’s it going? ems he and Rona sent.
Just as he was dozing off, his flex dinged.
It was an em from Ellin to both Trett and Rona.
DONE! See you in a few.
Trett got up and turned his light on. There was a knock at his door, and Rona came in. She had dark circles under her eyes. He was sure he did too.
Ellin soon joined them. “That was way harder than I expected.”
She explained that newsorgs wouldn’t publish an in-depth explanation of radioactive chemistry. She’d had to write something simple enough for the average person to read and frightening enough to spur them to action.
Trett listened, but half his attention was on her. Not her words, but her raised eyebrows and enthusiastic gestures. Her blue eyes were far brighter than anyone’s should be at this time of night.
He felt his mouth turn up in a slight smile. She loves this.
The next thought came on its heels. When’s the last time she looked at me that way?
He chided himself for the thought. The world was ending, and he was concerned about whether Ellin was excited to see him? He shook off the pointless musings and returned his focus to her.
“This was so much more fun to write than those short articles they had me working on before,” Ellin said. “I worked with another department to create an interactive illustration. It’s a simplified version of those three graphs I showed you Sunday. I included plenty of opinions from people who want the dig to continue, but anyone who really reads it is going to think twice.”
“Did you proofread it?” Rona asked.
Ellin flashed her sister a rueful smile. “Seven times. Then I sent it to my boss.”
“Good,” Rona said curtly. “Because I don’t know if you’ve checked the date lately, but it’s Cyon 5th, and we only have thirty-two days left. I’m going to bed.” She exited the room without another word.
Trett watched Ellin, who was still grinning even after her sister’s pessimistic departure. He wanted to celebrate with her, but he couldn’t generate the same excitement she clearly felt. We traveled across the country together, and our rooms are next to each other, but I feel farther from her than ever. Does she feel it too? Does it bother her that we haven’t had a real conversation in weeks? Their late-night argument in the Press Office still weighed on him. They needed to talk—but it wasn’t the right time. Ellin had earned this moment of triumph.
“Hey.” He smiled at Ellin and held his arms out. “I’m proud of you.”
She returned the hug, then kissed him. “Thanks.”
For that moment, everything felt right again.
14
TUESDAY, CYON 5, 6293
-32 DAYS
Rona woke with a gasp.
She never had prophetic dreams, though she’d read about past seers experiencing such a phenomenon. Instead, she woke when it was time for a vision, like the prophecy was knocking on the door of her sleeping brain, demanding she forsake her rest and give it attention.
She sighed and closed her eyes again, waiting. The vision flooded in.
Alvun Merak’s unmistakable face, classically handsome with intense brown eyes, filled her mind. With the indefinable certainty that sometimes came with visions, Rona knew this one was immutable.
Her perspective zoomed out until she could see Merak’s tall, fit form. He strode down a hallway in a place she somehow knew was his house. It was, of course, a lovely home, modern and luxurious. Through a window at the end of the hallway, she saw the night sky.
Merak walked into a room and placed his hand on the light panel. Soft brightness illuminated a large bedroom. The walls were a buttery-cream color, and both the blanket on the bed and the curtains were dark green. A yellow desk sat along one wall. Everything was tasteful and homey. Merak looked around and smiled, then turned the light off and returned to the hall.
The vision ended.
Rona huffed and looked up at the ceiling. You woke me up for that? The vision didn’t seem to have any relevance to the problem at hand, and she certainly didn’t need to take any action based on what she’d seen.
Even short, innocuous visions left Rona in a mild post-vision state, rendering her both exhausted and stimulated. She needed more sleep, but knew she’d have to wait for it. So she sat up and grabbed her flex off the floor where she’d dropped it the night before.
She, Ellin, and Trett had kept their commitment not to contact friends and family, but Kizha was an exception. It was vital to have a way to reach her when they needed technological detective work, so Kizha had set up an ultra-secure chat portal. Rona used it with Ellin and Trett too, so their chats wouldn’t be detectable by any Merak monitoring. Maybe they were being too cautious, but Kizha insisted a little paranoia was healthy.
It was well past midnight where Kizha lived, but she didn’t have a regular sleep schedule. Rona wasn’t surprised that her friend’s icon showed her as available. She sent a quick message.
Still up?
The response was almost instantaneous.
Yes. How’s it going?
Rona stared at Kizha’s icon—her curly, black hair, big smile, and bright-green eyes. She’d always liked those eyes.
In her mind, Rona drafted the response she wished she could send. Everything’s good, except that the world is ending in a month. We’re trying to get the word out, but let’s be honest, I know how this ends. I want to meet you and touch you, to actually live for a change, but for some reason, I have to help Ellin and Trett do whatever they can to stop the inevitable. Now I’m losing sleep so I can have pointless visions of Alvun Merak walking around his house. I guess that’s about it; how are you?
She shook her head and laughed softly. Shoving aside the words she wanted to type, she settled on,
I’m fine. And you?
I’m good, just getting sleepy.
I bet. I’ll let you go. Talk tomorrow?
Sure.
Rona collapsed her flex and dropped it on the floor, then fell back onto her pillow.
Kizha had never pressured her to explain all the recent hacking requests, and despite frequent urges to tell her everything, Rona had stayed silent. The problem was, her whole life was now centered around her apocalyptic vision. With that topic off the table, it seemed there was nothing to talk about.
Kizha seemed different lately. She was still friendly, and she clearly loved the extra hacking projects. During video chats, however, Rona saw the questions behind her friend’s smiles.
An image invaded Rona’s mind, of Ellin and Trett making out in the Press Office lobby. Rona wasn’t one to whine, but she indulged in a short, mental tantrum consisting of three unspoken words: This isn’t fair.
After tossing and turning for half an hour, Rona sat back up. The vision of Merak in his house wouldn’t leave her mind. Perhaps it was more than informational. You want me to act on this, God? Is that why I’m awake? Despite the brief prayer, h
er confusion persisted, as did her unwelcome state of alertness.
She emmed Kizha again.
I know you’re trying to sleep. No need to respond tonight. I’d really like more information on Alvun Merak. History, family, whatever you can dig up that’s not readily available.
After she sent the message, sleep came easily.
WEDNESDAY, CYON 6, 6293
-31 DAYS
The next day, frequent visions pummeled Rona. None of them were long, but they were frighteningly vivid. They were all snippets of the day of the apocalypse.
Every single one was a shrouded prophecy, the one variety of vision she truly hated. There was one difference between immutable and shrouded prophecies. After a shrouded prophecy, she couldn’t tell anyone what she’d seen. If she tried to verbalize it, her breath caught in her throat. Any attempt to write it resulted in stiff, cramped hands. She’d even tried to act out a shrouded prophecy once. All her limbs had locked up, and she’d fallen on her face, breaking her nose and chipping a tooth. She was convinced shrouded prophecies were cruel pranks, played on seers by God or fate or whatever mysterious power governed their gifts.
Some of Rona’s visions involved Ellin and Trett’s last-ditch efforts to stop the apocalypse. She also saw countless images of people dying—falling, turning stark white, bleeding out—all horrid reminders that no matter what Ellin and Trett did, there was no hope of saving the world.
Rona wasn’t in any of the visions, but that didn’t surprise her. She never saw herself in immutable or shrouded prophecies, and her research told her that was typical. She supposed seers would lose their minds earlier in life if they spent their time trying to change their own unalterable futures.
By the end of the second day of prophecies, Rona’s PVS symptoms were overwhelming, only subsiding during visions. Several coworkers commented on her dazed expression, and she left work early. This was why she preferred working from home.
Wanting to avoid fellow interns in the dining hall, she brought her dinner to her room. She finished eating, then emmed her trainer in Accounting to let him know she wouldn’t be there the next day.
That night, Rona finally got the sleep her body was craving. It was mid-morning when she woke, her mind informing her it had a prophecy for her. She released a loud groan, sat up, and waited.
During a vision, Rona had little control over her body’s movements. Her internal reactions, on the other hand, were often fierce. As this vision progressed, her consciousness cringed, gasped, and sighed. Near the end, her lips twitched, trying to smile.
When the final scene ended, her mouth settled into a true grin.
Now that was a prophecy. Thank goodness this one wasn’t shrouded. She’d need to talk to Ellin about it soon. Maybe we’re actually getting somewhere.
FRIDAY, CYON 8, 6293
-29 DAYS
Not wanting to be annoying or too obvious, at first Ellin didn’t ask Jovan for feedback on her article. Instead, she threw her energy into her new assignments. By lunchtime on Friday, however, she couldn’t wait any longer.
She put down the sandwich she was eating at her desk and emmed Jovan.
Did my article look okay? Any idea when it will go live?
Hours later, Ellin was preparing to leave when her flex vibrated. She pulled it off her arm, firmed it, and read,
Sorry, your article’s on hold.
In her three weeks on the job, Ellin had learned enough to know that on hold meant rejected by the Screening Department. Her article wasn’t delayed; someone had thrown it in a digital rubbish bin.
Ellin’s jaw and shoulders tensed. She drew in a breath and then let it out slowly, attempting to release her taut muscles. She wanted to stomp into Jovan’s office, lean over his desk, and demand, “Do you have any idea how hard I worked on that article?” Of course, that would be stupid.
Not as stupid as being more pissed about his disrespect than about him foiling our plan to stop the end of the world. She almost laughed at herself. Priorities, Ellin.
An image of the expensive metal fence came into Ellin’s mind, and she pictured a paper printout of her article, impaled on its spikes. What would people think if they knew a handful of Press Office employees were determining what the world watched and read about Merak Technologies?
Ellin glanced at the time on her deskscreen. She was late for dinner. Again. She grabbed her things and left.
The small dining hall was crowded, and she, Trett, and Rona had to share a table with three other interns. Ellin ate silently and quickly, mulling over her defeat. When Trett and Rona finished eating, she practically dragged them to her room, where she gave them the bad news.
Trett looked nearly as disappointed as Ellin felt, but Rona was sporting an odd smile.
“What is it, Rona?” Ellin asked.
“I had a vision. You need to go back to the Screening Department tonight. Your goal is to log into the system and send your article to a prominent newsorg. You know they’ll publish it if it comes straight from that department.”
Ellin was still staring at Rona. “Why do you look so . . . gleeful?”
“I’m not gleeful. It’s . . . don’t worry about it. It was a potential prophecy, and if you don’t go back there, you’ll be sitting in this room the day before the apocalypse, no closer to stopping it than you are now.”
“I want to know what you saw!”
“Just go. You’ll be fine. This is important.” She wouldn’t meet Ellin’s eyes.
“There’s something you’re not telling me.”
Rona pressed her lips together.
Ellin was used to Rona keeping some prophetic details to herself. Foreknowledge could change a person’s reactions. Other times, Rona was incapable of sharing what she saw. Ellin understood it, but she didn’t have to like it. She moved to her bed and sat on it. “Fine. But if Trett and I are going to be up in the middle of the night again, we’d better get some sleep.”
“Trett’s not going this time.”
Ellin huffed. “I’m going to bed.”
Despite her pronouncement, Ellin couldn’t get to sleep until her normal bedtime, leaving her exhausted and cranky when she rose in the middle of the night. Trett was waiting outside her room with hot coffee. She gave him the best kiss they’d shared since their joint trip to the Press Office.
“That was . . . nice,” Trett said when she pulled away.
“You brought me coffee at two in the morning. You’re the nice one.”
He looked at her thoughtfully. “Ellin,” he began. He swallowed, then smiled. “You’ll do great. Wish I could go with you.”
Ellin got the feeling he’d been planning to say something else, but all he did was watch her drink her coffee. She gave him one more quick kiss, then left.
The security code still worked at the front door and the lift. So far, so good.
She sat before the same deskscreen she’d used before and entered the code. This time, an error message popped up. She retyped the code. No luck. She tried a second workstation, then a third, with the same results. Breaths coming faster, she entered the code on every workstation in the room—twice. It simply didn’t work.
Ellin threw her hands up. What kind of game is Rona playing? She stomped back to the lift and took it to the lobby. As the doors opened, she released the frustrated groan she’d been suppressing. “That was pointless!”
From the darkness of the lobby outside the lift, a man’s voice emerged. “Pointless, huh?”
Ellin froze. Nerves flooded her neck, arms, and hands with an electric tingle, and her muddled brain considered dashing past the man. Or should she close the lift doors, ascend one floor, and take the stairs down? Maybe she could even hide in a bathroom until morning.
The man in the lobby made her decision for her. His hand reached out of the darkness, grasping the edge of the lift door and preventing it from closing. Then the body connected to the hand stepped into view.
Ellin found herself staring at the friendly
, smiling face of Alvun Merak.
15
SATURDAY, CYON 9, 6293
-28 DAYS
“Care to step out, and we’ll chat?” Alvun Merak sounded like he was about to laugh.
Not seeing any other options, Ellin exited the lift. “I’d rather go back to my room, if that’s okay.”
Now he did laugh. “Not yet.”
The lift doors closed, leaving them in near-darkness.
“Let’s head to those chairs.” Merak pointed to a corner of the lobby, lit by a dim emergency light.
Ellin followed him. Once they were seated, he held out his hand. “I’m Alvun Merak.”
She shook his hand but didn’t introduce herself.
“And you,” he said, “are Ellin Havier.”
She nodded. “How do you know my name?”
“Our security team saw you sneak in a few weeks ago.” Merak pointed at the ceiling. “The cameras are too small to see, but they provide a high-resolution image. It didn’t take long to identify you and Trett.”
“Oh.” Ellin scanned the lobby, hesitant to meet the eyes of the man who’d just caught her trespassing in one of his buildings. Her gaze fell on the lift, and an image flashed into her mind—her and Trett kissing, her hands tangled in his hair. “Oh—!” she said again, cursing the heat in her cheeks. “Did you—watch the videos?”
Merak laughed again. “It’s okay, I was young once too.”
Ellin forced herself to look at him. “Why didn’t you send us home?”
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 11