by Kali Wallace
Aunt Padmavati paused, cleared her throat delicately. There were tears in her eyes, but her expression was one of warmth and fondness. This was not an unhappy memory for her, however much it must hurt to speak of my mother when she was young.
“She said she was going to fly so far away the sun was only a star like all the other stars. And I . . . well, I was not so arrogant as Amita, but I was quite a bit more self-righteous. And, yes”—and here my aunt’s voice turned wry—“she was terribly arrogant. That she was right about how brilliant she was did not make her any less insufferable. But I had just come from the deserts, and I was certain I knew how to solve the North American problem, certain I knew how to convince all the separatists to join the Councils, so certain I could change it all.
“I asked Amita how she could be so cavalier about flying away when there were so many problems to solve on Earth. Wasn’t it the same as the generation ships who left during the Collapse, I asked, all those wealthy and powerful people fleeing the consequences of the catastrophes they had created? Do you know what she said?
“She said she would be happy to leave, because she would be leaving me behind to keep the world safe while she was out finding new ones.” Aunt Padmavati primly wiped her eyes and delicately blew her nose.
It was so easy to imagine Mum saying those words that, for a moment, I could almost hear them, in her bold and excited voice, her dark eyes glinting, in that way she had that always made my father smile fondly and tell her not to forget to eat supper when she went off to reinterpret the laws of physics this time. I missed them so much my heart ached with a deep, deep pain I did not think would ever entirely fade.
“That was fifty years ago. I think it’s about time I start working on the challenge my sister set for me.” Still smiling, my aunt went on, “Jas, there is no doubt you’ll piss off the Councilors if you speak up in support of the survivors, which means you should absolutely say whatever you want to say.”
“I’m glad you think so,” I said, and I cleared my throat, “because I’m going to say I didn’t save the fucking planet just so we can go on congratulating ourselves for not being barbarians anymore while we’re still refusing to help people who need it. I’m going to say they should learn from what Zahra said about what her father believed.”
“The world not as it is,” Aunt Padmavati said quietly, “but as it is meant to be.”
The door opened and the page leaned in. “They’re ready for you, Councilor Bhattacharya, Mr. Bhattacharya. Right this way, please.”
We stood, Aunt Padmavati and I side by side. She reached up to adjust my collar, picked an invisible speck from my shirt.
“Ready?” she said.
“I’m ready.”
Together we followed the page from the room. Sunlight shone through high windows, and voices rang from the room where the Councilors had gathered. They sounded angry, impatient, talking over and past each other, accents and languages from all over the world, too much noise for too close a space. My aunt gestured for me to enter first. I hesitated, letting myself look out over the city, transforming beneath the vast domes and rising light, and all of it so very fragile, so delicate in its beauty. The universe was larger now, and more terrifying, but the same mistakes lingered, and the same truths remained. Everything built by human hands could be destroyed. Everything dreamed by human minds could be preserved. There were trees blossoming in rooftop gardens across the city.
The Councilors fell silent as I stepped into the room. My hands were not shaking anymore.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Kali Wallace has had a lifelong passion for both science and storytelling, and she earned a PhD in geophysics before becoming an author. Salvation Day is her first novel for adults. She is also the author of two young adult novels, Shallow Graves and The Memory Trees; the children’s fantasy novel City of Islands; and a number of short stories. After spending most of her life in Colorado, she now lives in southern California.
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