Reclaiming Shilo Snow

by Mary Weber

  “While the medics rushed to save CEO Inola, unfortunately, they were too late.” The i-reality star’s voice softened to a note that seemed genuinely grieved. “I don’t think there’s a person on this planet who wouldn’t agree that she was a courageous woman. And she’ll be sorely missed.”

  “So, who do you think will take over for Mom?”

  Sofi glanced at Shi and shrugged. “No idea.”

  “Maybe they’ll elect you and we can be in charge of the Games.”

  She snorted. “No thanks.”

  “While the UW scientists will continue to analyze the data for years to come,” Nadine continued, “it’s believed Delon opened or discovered a wormhole in the system and used it to intentionally exit the Milky Way the same way they came. All traces and particulates seem to support this as well. And in light of recent revelations regarding their questionable intentions here, I think it’s fair to say the shock of them leaving comes with a matched sense of relief.”

  Nadine’s voice dropped in a note of exhaustion that hung about her entire body—even while her gaze displayed a strength and gentleness born of someone who’d been in the thick of the fight the past few days. She stared into the camera. “We’ll continue to keep you updated as we know more. But for this evening, may you all breathe a little lighter, hug your loved ones tighter, and realize that, for tonight, the world is alright. We are alright. Much love to you all.”

  41

  MIGUEL

  The colinade was packed. sun shining, cabanas glittering, and the scents of sweat and cinnamon and organic coffee drifting up on the air-conditioned breezes. Miguel stood on the announcement platform that the organizers had connected to the CEO cabana and surveyed the coliseum, which was crammed tighter with people for this event than any in the past. And probably more than was actually legal.

  He half listened as the UW attorney general finished informing the crowd of what they already knew—the state of the world, its thirty corporations and regions, and the planet Delon fleeing with its citizens.

  All of which had been talked to death during numerous status alerts and press conferences the last eight days. But still, the need for providing an official detailing and ensuring their governing reputation stayed transparent was vital.

  So here they stood, Miguel, the attorney general, all twentyeight CEOs, and Ambassador Danya, who, as far as the majority of the world knew or was concerned, was as human as anyone here. And those who knew differently agreed to keep it that way in gratitude for what she’d sacrificed to help Earth.

  “While we are grateful for the massive amounts of assistance the Delonese gave during their time in our Milky Way system,” the attorney general continued, “we are also relieved to see them move on. And with them gone, we support Corp 24’s voluntary decision to pull the Altered device off the market. In light of our investigations, we have unanimously voted that a person’s genetic coding is a part of their private personhood—and to test, judge, or infringe on that without an individual’s consent is an overstep in human respect. We believe you’ll join us not only in understanding this decision but in supporting it as well. Thank you.”

  Voices rumbled like thunder from the crowd in cheers mixed with nerves and questions beneath the overhead telescreens. And from the base where—instead of the green-screens and virtual scenes—the rest of the world senators, VPs, and ambassadors sat in circular rows as part of the audience.

  The attorney general lifted his hand for a quiet that didn’t come and stated, “As you have heard from myself and each of the CEOs standing with me during the past hour and a half, we now turn the final podium over to Ambassador Miguel, who—”

  The crowd just grew louder, their cheers and yells now more demanding. As if they still needed something.

  Sofi and Shilo stepped out onto the stage and strolled up to stand on either side of Miguel. Dressed in matching black slim-suits, black hair swept back off their faces. An owl necklace around Sofi’s throat, and a metal cougar around Shilo’s. Together they shut their eyes and, in the same moment, discreetly shut off the telescreens of the attorney general’s face.

  The Colinade fell silent.

  Miguel snorted. “You’re going to get yourselves in trouble.”

  “Just helping you out, dude,” Shilo said.

  Sofi tipped her head and turned them back on—causing the screens to flicker with static before they zeroed in their telefocus on Miguel, as behind them one of the CEOs cleared her throat and said, “Good gad, please tell me that wasn’t you two.”

  “Corp heads, peacekeepers, media, and highly respected friends.” Miguel’s rich voice echoed through the Colinade. “As well as friends of friends, friends of mine, and friends with benefits.”

  The silence broke and the audience laughed as Miguel swept his gaze over all thirteen levels and the thousands of people standing among the glitter and pomp and sun-drenched cabanas. He then stared straight into the camera for the other few million watching across the globe via their telescreens.

  Beside him, Sofi slipped her hand into his in a symbol of trust.

  The crowd must’ve caught the gesture on the giant teles because they began shouting, “Sofi! Sofi!” then erupted into a thunderous round of applause.

  Miguel squeezed her hand and waited for the cheers to die before lifting his chin and extending his voice even further. “The fact that you and I are standing here today—on this planet, on this soil that is far older, with far more history than any of us—should give me and you pause. That we are here, in this time, is a gift. And one we cannot take lightly.”

  “You’re a gift, Miguel!” some rabid guy yelled from the sixth level, sparking laughter—even from Sofi.

  “He’s got that right,” Sofi said, with a wink at the camera.

  If the audience had been tense and hopeful before, they were beside themselves in their level of approval now. Miguel gave Sofi a shy side glance that quickly became an enormous smile. And the crowd ate it up.

  He dropped his gaze and scanned the arena of officials and held up his hand for calm. “That we are alive at all is a testament to the ingenuity of our forefathers, the advances in arts and sciences—like technology, cellular exploration, and education—and the mercy of something that is far bigger than our universe.”

  He took a breath and recentered his gaze on the camera. “It’s also a tribute to the belief that life is precious. Your life is precious. So is mine. So are our neighbors’, and coworkers’, and those who disagree with us. And the minute I elevate my life above another’s—the moment I choose mine as more valuable for the survival of humanity—is the moment I begin to give away my humanity. And that is the moment we all begin to lose.”

  Sofi gripped his hand tighter. They were quiet now. All listening. Staring at him. All breathing the same air as him. Beating with the same heartbeat as his.

  “The questions for you and me—the questions for all of us—are: What choices do you or I make that emasculate the very heart of what it means to be alive? What do we contribute to the tearing down or building up of people on a daily basis? How do we decide who is worthy or not to have the same benefits as the rest of us—the same food, same joy, same prosperity? And who do we sacrifice in order to achieve what you or I think is best? Is it nobler to sacrifice another in the name of the needy—or to serve and sacrifice of ourselves?”

  He stared at their faces. As if he could speak to their hearts one by one—to ignite conviction and compassion in a world that had clearly forgotten both far too often and for far too long. Just like he had.

  “My friends, we have become so busy taking care of people that we’ve too often forgotten to care about them. To know them at a heart and face level. They’ve become means to a cultural end rather than the measure of health on the journey. And I no longer want anything to do with it.”

  The audience erupted again. He glanced at Sofi, who nodded as if to say he was doing fine, while beside her, Shilo stood on one foot as if to say, �
�Can we get lunch soon?”

  Miguel grinned and strode to the edge of the stage. “Because arrogance at its worst masquerades as goodness. It deceives itself and others that it is for the people rather than accomplishing things off the backs of the people. But, my friends, business partners, political associates . . . somewhere along the way we lost sight of what exactly it means to be good. And we simply aimed for being right.”

  He swallowed. And looked straight at the camera again. “If the Delonese gave us anything, it is this: the reality that they are no different from us. Did you hear me, friends?” He raised his voice to a shout. “For as appalled as we are that they, and a few of our top corporate leaders, would use and abuse our children in such brutal ways—at least they were doing it for survival, you know? So what’s our excuse? We’re doing it every day—in our black markets, in our trafficking parlors, in our own neighborhoods. And even if we’re not partaking, we’re certainly allowing it. Because what are you and I doing to stop it? So thank heavens for the Delonese. For their gift of technology and environmental cleanup. But more so for the mirror they held up.”

  “May God help us all,” he heard Sofi mutter over the silence that was now uncomfortable.

  Miguel licked his lips and finished. “The question I’ve been asking myself recently is what does it mean to exist for a very brief time in this place we call the Milky Way? What does it mean to be in a community—to contribute to that community—and to fight for it rather than against each other?” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “So, friends, the question I leave you with is simply this:

  “How do we lose our humanity? And how do we gain our humanity back?”

  42

  SOFI

  “Sof, check this out!” Shilo’s black hair ruffled in the breeze on the old weathered porch of their farmhouse, nestled on the border of Old North Carolina and the rest of the world. “Found it under the floorboards of the basement!” He held up a metallic black box as his shadow filled the same spot where Sofi’d cradled her father’s head as he quietly passed from this world to the next. “It’s a radio. I’m going to pull it apart and see what I can do with it.”

  She squinted. Man, Shilo looked like Papa. Those broad shoulders and long legs—and that little bit of sparse hair above his upper lip. She twisted her mouth. He needed to shave that thing.

  “Not a chance,” his voice said inside her head. “It looks manly.”

  She shielded the blaring sun from her eyes and wiped a stray ponytail strand away. “Says the twelve-year-old boy waving a boom box at me. You know we could just buy a new one.”

  He grinned. And said aloud, “Just think how old skool we’ll be. Actual radio waves. We could make our own music station.” He flashed a rock-on sign at her, then sat down on the steps to disembowel the thing.

  “He does realize the types of radio towers it uses aren’t the same these days, right?” Miguel said, not looking up from where he squatted nearby, mid-sending something on his handscreen to Vicero.

  “Leave it to him to bring them back.” Sofi smiled and turned to analyze the half-fallen-down barn. “Just like they were going to bring back this place.” Sofi wiped the sweat from her neck, then picked up her glass of melting iced tea.

  “So I’m thinking you should keep some of those old barn beams for lining the rafters.” Miguel leaned up and handed her his screen with a 3-D architectural draft Vic had just sketched of the barn, exactly as it’d been in its former glory. Including that one missing slat in the roof through which Sofi and Shilo used to watch the fireflies and their half sister’s star glimmer down at them.

  Sof swallowed and wanted to say the design was more than perfect, but ended up saying nothing at all. Just let the emotion sit in her throat.

  His expression widened to a grin. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He stood and stepped over beside her. And studied her face.

  She let him. Until after a minute she moved to lean her head into him and felt for the warmth of his heartbeat that was the only thing she wanted to hear right now.

  He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. The simplicity of which, she thought, might as well have ignited the summer skies. This man she’d never wanted to see again, never believed she’d need again, was here. And she’d been wrong.

  She’d never in her life been so glad to be wrong.

  Because somehow they’d grown. Through the brokenness, through the loss and finding of themselves, through the memories that had unmade then remade them. And perhaps this was what she’d wanted—waited for—all along. She just hadn’t known he’d already chosen it too, a year and a half ago.

  Her handscreen buzzed, causing them both to jump. “You’ve got to be kidding,” he murmured. “Tell them we’re busy.”

  Sofi held up her screen. “It’s Danya.”

  “Like I said—”

  Congrats. They’ve just voted you and Miguel in as the new

  Corp 30 CEO unit, Sof.

  Sofi stared. What?

  Miguel raised a brow.

  “Are they joking?”

  He looked over her shoulder at the message. “The UW rarely jokes, love. But perhaps they’ve made an exception due to your mother’s untimely death.”

  “You’re so not even funny.”

  “Yes, I am. At least your old lady neighbor who’s been watching through the fence for the past hour seems to think so. That or she’s ogling my frame.”

  “Pretty sure it’s the fact your shirt’s been inside out all day.”

  “It—what?”

  Sofi laughed and texted back:

  Thanks, but no thanks. Miguel can take it, though, if he wants.

  Right. Not sure you have a choice.

  Excuse me?

  You really want to leave it to someone else?

  Sofi scowled and looked away, out over the horizon of the green fields and broken-down homestead and memories of the first half of her life spent here. She didn’t want it. The pressure, the people politics.

  She glanced at Miguel, who’d taken to sipping his tea and fluttering a wave at the old woman who was indeed spying on them through the fence.

  Sofi snorted. “I take it you knew the UW would ask.”

  “You’d be good at it,” was all he said.

  Of course he knew.

  “Yeah, well, the world doesn’t need more CEOs,” she muttered and kicked the crunchy dirt with the tip of her black boot that came up over her knee, almost as high as her shorts.

  He winked at the lady, who seemed to remember she had to be somewhere, then returned to his handheld and messaging Vic.

  “Nor does it need more politicians. No offense.” She glared at him.

  “Quite true. And none taken.” He tapped his screen.

  “Besides, I’d hate it.”

  He nodded again and kept tapping.

  “Except—I’d be with you, obviously.”

  “Not sure that’s a plus for you.”

  “But even if I took it, I’d still want to live here and I’d run things differently.”

  The smallest smile flickered as he sent off the note he’d been formatting, only to be interrupted by a hologram popping up from his screen.

  Claudius’s head assessed Miguel and his iced tea with a strafing gaze. “Ah, good. Nice to see you drinking your sissy tea, dude. I was worried you might’ve gone hard after spending so much time with the gamer-chick. But here you are, sexy as always.”

  Miguel sniffed. “Vic’s got you hanging out with her today, eh?”

  “You know it. Except she’s all about work work work all the time. It’s all she does, and apparently I’m only here to be eye candy.” He sighed dramatically.

  “Darn right,” Vic’s voice rang out from the handscreen’s microphone.

  Claudius smoothed his plaid collar and smiled pleased-like, then turned to Sof. “Anyhow. I hear you’re both the new Corp 30 CEOs. Congrats. Remind me to send you my brief on food carts and dress codes for the UW meetings. Very
classy. Very important.”

  “Don’t let him,” Vic interrupted. “They look like a cat threw up on his grandma’s afghan and turned it into an outfit.”

  Sofi let out a laugh.

  “Okay, but for reals,” Claudius said. “You two are going to take the position, right? Because I need someone to entertain in those meetings.”

  She bit her cheek, then shook her head. “Not sure,” she said, before peering over at Shilo. He already had the radio apart in clunky pieces.

  “Thoughts?” she asked silently.

  He didn’t look up. “What are you afraid of? Becoming Mom?”

  “Becoming like everyone.”

  “Policies and politics don’t change people, Sof. Choices do.”

  “You’re not answering my question.”

  “And I’m not going to. But I don’t think you can actually hide from the world if you want to help change it. Seems like you gotta be in it to do that.”

  “Yeah, well, the world’s a mess.”

  She felt him chuckle. “So are we.”

  Good point.

  “Jerk.”

  This time his chuckle was audible from his spot across the yard. She looked out over the fields dotted with sumac bushes and shadows from the sweltering sun finally making its way toward the tree line for the day. Then across the broken homes and tents and—far in the distance—the cities that lay like gorged gems in the midst of everything else that was still so desperately in need.

  A mental image of the black markets popped up. Full of children and homeless.

  She firmed her jaw and opened her screen to pull up Ranger.

  Hey. You interested in a job?

  Thirty seconds went by before he replied, Maybe. What would I have to do?

  Oversee tech for Miguel’s and my company. Help me end the black markets.

  Would I have to wear a suit?

  Nope, she answered.

  Yeah, I’m in.

  Oh, and you’d be responsible for keeping Miguel in line, she added, since Miguel was eavesdropping over her shoulder after hanging up on Claudius.

  She clicked the device off as Miguel chuckled and glanced up at the day-lit moon, then beyond, to where Delon used to be. She’d spent so much of her life despising the thing, she’d not noticed the permanent pull it had on her. The noise it left in her brain that only her headphones could block out. Now that it was gone, there was the permanent void of something missing.