My dad shakes his head. “Oh, I heard you. I’m just exercising my right not to listen.”
“You think it’s fair not to let everyone into the city?” He sighs. “It ain’t right. We all have something to offer.”
“Yes? Look at what you’re offering. You know what happened the last time we had a war? The world almost broke in half, and when we were picking up the pieces, plans needed to be made because not everyone is suited to a life of peace. There’s a reason this was easy—there’s a reason there are only ten armed citizens in RigMire. The algorithm clearly failed, because its job wasn’t to be elitist or select the most intelligent citizens; its job was to ensure our safety, so this city could thrive and step up to help everyone below when the time comes. Your gun doesn’t scare me, sir. It’s in your best interest to walk away.” My father drops his bottle and Georgie fades in almost instantly to catch it. His appearance startles everyone in the room.
The man fires and Georgie moves. Within seconds the gun falls and the shooter is flying into a bookcase. The other three converge and Georgie swats them away like they’re weightless. Talia makes her way over to us as I stand and witness the chaos: no one stays down. Georgie keeps beating them over and over—their crimson auras blink and flicker with each blow they take. After a while, they do stay down, and my father materializes another drink.
Georgie walks up to the nearest man and kicks him hard in the chest. After several moments I realize he isn’t going to stop. I make my move and pull him backwards away from them.
“Piper...” Ms. Cato’s voice trails off as Georgie turns to me.
I see the rage in his eyes.
He’s going to hit me.
“They’ve had enough.” My voice is shaky. “You can stop now.”
He looks down at them and then back to me before relaxing his stance. “So they have.”
My father shrugs, pours himself another glass, and then makes his way to Ms. Cato. “I think you will agree that it is time for a full reset.”
I don’t know what that means, but I do notice how Talia looks away. Body language often says more than words are capable of.
24
THE BIG RESET
WHAT WE ARE AND WHO WE ARE—those are two very different considerations. It’s not a question you ask lightly. I’ve never been one to get pulled into the rabbit holes of philosophy, but in a world where up could really be down if you wanted it to be, it’s hard not to spiral at the notion of big questions.
What was the point of it all? RigMire was built to save people, but should it have been? I’m not one to get caught up in the little details, but I do understand big pictures and this one seems incomplete.
“No one from Suo is answering.” Ms. Cato paces around my father’s lab with her arms crossed. This small room feels more like a bunker than a laboratory.
Talia sits across from me with her interface out in front of her. She’s repairing the damage to her code. “It’s a wonder we haven’t fallen apart sooner.”
I pause. “What do you mean?”
She sighs, puts away her interface, and touches the area where she was shot. “Outside of the security detail, there are only three employees from Suo in RigMire: Liz, your old man, and Des. When things get particularly chaotic, Des always knows what to do, but none of us have seen her in a long time.”
I lean back in my chair. “And no one thought that was strange?”
She shrugs. “Des is the only one of us who still goes into the office. She’s allowed to disappear every now and then.”
I nod. “Hey, if you work security, then why did my dad call you a merc?”
She smiles. “Ah, because merc work pays extra, and that extra time means more money I can send back to my family still on the ground. Pay classifications are important to the company.”
“For the love of... sober up, Miles. I can’t talk to you when you’re like this.” Ms. Cato shakes her head.
My father leans against the wall. “It won’t change anything. Drunk, sober, we still need to hit the button.”
“Miles.”
He turns away. “You know what your problem is? You don’t indulge enough. What’s the point of being able to recalibrate your code if you never do it?”
She ignores him. “There is a reason there are three of us. A reset is a big deal. Anyone not registered as a citizen will be purged.”
He nods. “I am well aware.”
Her eyes widen. “And you’re alright with that?”
My father takes a moment to set down the bottle and open his interface. A few clicks later and his aura flashes. He stands taller, his hair is perfect, and his eyes are fixed solely on Ms. Cato. “Of course I am. It is the only way to restore order. While the citizens we have are being rebooted, we can weed out the deficiencies and put proper countermeasures in place. You were right to suggest it earlier. My apologies, sometimes the whiskey slows me down.”
Is that what she meant by sober up?
I get up from my seat. “When you say purge, you mean...”
My father nods. “Erasure. It’s the only sensible thing to do in a situation like this.”
I step towards him. “Excuse me?”
Georgie appears by my side, but doesn’t say anything.
“I don’t expect you to understand—”
I shake my head. “That’s over forty thousand people.”
Ms. Cato sighs. “And that’s why we’re having this discussion. I may have jumped the gun earlier.” She pauses. “Truthfully, Miles, I don’t think it’s a good idea. Think of the PR nightmare—”
“It’s murder.” My words linger for a moment.
Talia stands and exchanges a brief glance with my father. “I think you should sit down,” she tells me.
Georgie grabs my arm with enough force to send a message. “Please, Ms. Piper, you will be more comfortable in the chair.”
Even down here, you can still recognize the muffled thunder of the anarchy out there. This city was meant to save; why can’t it save everyone? It’s true that historically war always leaves world-altering side-effects, but this is just unrest.
As if reading my mind, my father looks over at Ms. Cato. “Liz, this is how wars start, and you see the strain on the system. We can’t let this get further out of hand. Your initial call was correct.”
I liked my father better when he was drunk. Sober he’s calm—dangerous, even.
Ms. Cato unfolds her arms. “Des isn’t here, Miles.”
“You have her key.”
“Not the point.” She shakes her head. “We need to deliberate. Your daughter is right there.”
He nods. “Believe me, Liz, I know exactly how this will impact her.”
Georgie guides me to the chair and lets go as soon as I settle into the seat. It’s silent, awkward, and I’m starting to let some crazy thoughts creep into my mind. If I’m understanding this right, then my father is condoning murder in exchange for a clean slate. This isn’t my city—it was never going to be my city. Why did I want to come here so badly?
Ms. Cato looks at me and then back at my father. “Listen to yourself.”
My father shrugs. “Georgie.”
The program nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Start the preparations.”
The moment my father stops talking, Ms. Cato has her interface open and is typing faster than I have seen anyone up to this point. Georgie turns and then stops mid-step. My father has his interface open now and is typing just as fast.
“Talia?” Ms. Cato opens a small, portal-like doorway behind us. “Freeze protocol is now in effect. Randomize the passwords and send them to—”
My father closes his interface and hits her, hard. “I’m so sorry, but you’re not thinking rationally.”
She falls, and I feel a distinct burning in the palm of my hand. For a moment I’m not sure what I’m witnessing.
Georgie starts moving again as Talia grabs my arm and pulls me through the portal. I feel weightless as the two o
f us drift backwards into a void. At least, I think that is what this is. I don’t know how else to explain it. He runs towards us, but the portal closes before he can get through.
“Hold on. This is tricky.” The only light around is coming from Talia’s interface as she frantically types with one hand.
We’re sinking. I don’t know how, but I feel us being pulled down. She lets go without warning.
“Cato uploaded Desdemona’s key to your code. Without it, everything stays in limbo—the freeze protocol holds and the reset can’t occur.” She pauses. “But I’m sorry. That means you have to remain here. It’s best we let those two sort this out.”
I reach out for something—anything—to hold onto. “Here? Where is here, exactly?” No answer. “Talia? Where am I?”
They say that when you’re about to die, your life flashes before your eyes. You get the glimpse of moments and memories and then it’s done—you move towards the light. If that’s true, then I’m not dying, though it feels like I should be. I’d rather go towards the light than sink further and further into darkness, but right now I don’t think that’s an option.
25
THE FLICKERING BEACON
WHEN I WAS LITTLE, I used to have a hard time sleeping. It didn’t matter whether or not Robbie told me a story or the blackout curtains were doing their job; the problem was all in my head. I could never settle my thoughts long enough to accept sleep when it came.
I used to talk to my therapist about it. She said dreams often tell us things we won’t admit to ourselves. I told her the problem was that I wasn’t dreaming at all. She shrugged and that was when I knew she wasn’t really listening.
The dark doesn’t scare me—I’ve spent enough time lying awake in it—but it does make me nervous.
It’s a strange feeling—both falling and floating—it’s like whatever I’m in is too thick to swim through. I take a deep breath and open my interface. The light from the outline of the keyboard is comforting, even if I have no idea what to do.
“Stalled? What do you mean stalled? How do you stall a city?” The voice is muffled—Calista.
“I don’t know. The power supply isn’t taking in more electricity. I’m not even sure how the city is still floating. The engine might be bottle-necked. We should jump it with the Ocelot.” Henry.
“Hello?” My voice sounds like static. I start pressing buttons.
A loud click echoes below and then I see a light in the distance. It’s small, and coming straight towards me. For a moment it gets extremely bright, and when my eyes adjust, I find myself facing a familiar blue ball of energy. I could be wrong, but to me its eyes look happy.
“You?” I close my interface as it snuggles up against my cheek. The Ocelot. “Can you help me?”
It nods and looks all around. Can it see in the dark? Is this even dark to it? I’m not sure what it wants me to do, but after a few long seconds of nothing it latches onto my hand and pulls hard. Its glow intensifies enough for me to see more of my surroundings.
The walls are a series of lines braided together and we move along them with enough speed to make my stomach queasy. The further we go, the brighter the room gets, until finally I see a portal very similar to the one Talia took me through.
We enter, and for what seems like one long pause I experience a series of glimpses—still moments like individual slides on a projector. My father stands over Ms. Cato with Georgie at his side. The scene is frozen, but she looks ready to get up and he looks ready to knock her down again. I go to speak, but stop as the scene transitions.
The Ocelot pulls me through another portal and we’re travelling through the streets of RigMire. Broken glass flickers and the people are frozen mid-protest. It’s a full-blown riot with fire and guns. I’m not sure if they even know how they’re fighting. Some of the security team look engaged in trying to keep the crowd at bay.
Another tug and we’re outside the Toasted Almond Bakery. I get a brief glimpse of Alice and her family inside with several others. There are no muffins—no freshly-baked cakes—just charts and tables. They don’t know what might happen. I try to pull back from the Ocelot.
“Hey, wait, maybe we should—” But there is no stopping, and before I know it, I’m through another portal, tripping on some invisible ledge and falling flat on my face.
The ground feels cold, like tile on a kitchen floor.
“Piper?” Robbie hurries over and I feel relieved because I know exactly where I am. The giant window looking out into the ship sits ahead, but I can’t see anyone on the other side.
I sit up. “Where are they? Calista and Henry.”
Robbie pauses. “They went outside to establish a link with RigMire.”
I nod and hurry to my feet. “There’s a link, but they won’t reach anyone.”
“How do you know?” He watches as I move up to the glass screen.
“I just know.” I make a fist and start pounding in a slow but heavy rhythm. Each thud echoes on this side, but I have no idea if I’m being heard on the other.
“What are you doing?” He stands next to me.
They have to hear me. I have to let them know what’s happening.
“Not now, Robbie.”
He pauses. “But, Piper, you’re—”
“Would you just stop? I have to do this.” I continue attacking the glass.
He grabs my arm mid-air. “Piper...” He can touch me? My hand went through his shoulder before. “...I’m sorry about... when you were here last. I wasn’t... I didn’t understand this place, but I do now, and when you disappeared... I can build us a house and we can live like we used to.”
I’ve never heard him ramble like this before. “Robbie, you don’t get it.”
He sighs. “Do you want a cottage? A castle? I can build—”
I look him in the eye. “The people... they’re scared—angry—and they’re like me. They... they can’t go home. I have to do this.”
It is impossible to save everyone. It’s one of life’s harshest lessons. There are reasons systems are built a certain way, and while I do think it is possible to change these systems, everything takes time. Skipping ahead of the line has repercussions and fearing change is rational.
The question now is what to do. I tell Calista and Henry—then what? A city has been forcefully flooded with forty thousand confused people, and not all of them are model citizens.
Anarchy was inevitable from the second they arrived.
Is my father right? I see his logic, but it’s just so flawed.
The moment you contradict yourself—give people both rules and complete freedom—the rhetoric feeds into sides divided by their own version of right and wrong.
I don’t know what to do, but nothing isn’t an option.
So I take a deep breath, look at Robbie, and then turn my attention back to the giant screen. There’s no shame in asking for help, so I pull away from him and hit it hard with both fists. Over and over; my pace gets more and more frantic.
I found my father, cleared the air, and realized it changed nothing.
Maybe that’s what I’m most pissed off about.
Did I fail in what I set out to do?
I reach back to hit the glass again, but stop as Robbie pulls me back just far enough that I can’t reach my target. His arms settle around me and it’s so quiet that I can hear the exhaustion in my breathing.
“Let me go. We have to do something. I just... I don’t...”
He holds me tighter. “Piper, you need to stop—catch your breath. I’m right here. You are not alone.”
The Ocelot appears over his shoulder and gently nudges my left hand. Only then do I notice the cracks forming around my aura and the flicker in my fingers. Am I hurting myself?
“Robbie?”
He rests his head against my shoulder. “You’re not alone—we’re not alone.”
I’m here.
“The people...”
He nods. “Big decisions require rational clarity.�
�
My father’s words.
This is where I am, and for the first time since this all started, I take a breath—a real one—and return Robbie’s embrace. Is he right? Of course he is. You need to take care of yourself before you can hope to help anyone else.
Breathe.
He’s always there, even when he isn’t.
A moment.
RigMire can wait until my mind settles—until I can think clearly enough to decide what needs to happen next.
It is impossible to run on a scale of black and white in a world of colour. Good and evil simply doesn’t exist. People make decisions based on either facts or feelings. Which am I? A person of fact or feeling? I don’t know, but what I do know is that doing nothing isn’t an option.
The Ocelot brushes up against my shoulder and I see it floating next to me with an expression of joy on its face. “Robbie, I’m going to need you to help me with something.”
He nods and looks me in the eye. “Of course.”
One. Two. Three…
Settle down now, Piper.
Nothing has to be done right this second.
26
THE LUMINESCENT ROADWAY
AT THE END OF THE NIGHT when all the drinks have been poured and all cabs have been called there is this moment where the weight of the day feels insignificant. All the stories told between sips of Vodka and watered-down whiskey are nothing but unfinished chapters to ongoing epics—and they are epic. No one is unimportant because we all have the potential to do better. Whether we do or not is a whole other matter.
Calista is a strong woman. She approaches the world in a way I can’t help but admire. Her actions are loud and clear--she stands up for herself and is decisive when she needs to be. I can’t say the same for myself.
“Piper?” Robbie stands across from me with a mixing bowl in one hand and a very messy spatula in the other. “Am I doing this right?”
I sit down on one of the bar stools and watch as he continuously folds the batter. “Looks fine to me.”
He pauses. “But is it right?”
I shrug. “I don’t really think there’s a wrong way to stir brownie batter.”
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