The Acceptance (The GEOs Book 1)

by Ramona Finn

  “Sorry, Dad, Viv got into some trouble earlier and I just needed to walk off some frustration.” It wasn’t exactly a lie—Viv had gotten into trouble, and I was frustrated. The details were missing, but the alibi had good bones. Hopefully, that would be enough to placate his anxieties.

  He didn’t respond. I leaned in to get a better look at his face, trying to gauge how much trouble I was in by his expression. Instead, I learned something else. Comparing Wallace’s face to my father’s had created a vision of vigor in my mind that I hadn’t noticed slipping away. The stress of my mother’s illness had aged him. The lines in his face were deeper than they had been before—especially the ones that formed at the corners of his mouth when he frowned.

  I patted him on the shoulder as I passed him on the way to my room. “You’ll go to bed soon, yeah?”

  “Hmm?” He’d barely looked in my direction.

  “It’s getting late, Dad,” I persisted. It seemed silly in a way, that I would be enforcing my father’s bedtime, but I’d take feeling silly over what I was afraid I’d have to do to keep them both safe. I tried to push those thoughts from my mind. No time for that now. There was work to do.

  “Yeah, in just a minute, Ty. I’m almost finished here.”

  I didn’t believe him, but there wasn’t much to be done about it.

  I closed the door to my room and fell onto my own bed, exhausted. I was asleep before my head hit the pillow.

  The next morning, I was up and ready before my parents. I had to be in order to pull off my new master plan. I opened the refrigeration station and removed my ration of morning greens. They would be fine at room temperature, but most preferred them chilled. Refrigeration units were only handed out to top-ranking Union workers. They were an easily revoked privilege. As I shut the door to the unit, I took solace in knowing that our family hadn’t slipped so far from Farrow Corp’s graces that they’d repossessed ours. It was known to happen occasionally. One of the families on our block had theirs taken the year before I’d started working, after the head of the house had become too ill to keep working. He’d fallen prey to the Cough, and passed just the day before it had been removed. The EFs hadn’t cared that the family was in mourning. Extra resources were only allotted to those who pulled their own weight.

  That was another reason I couldn’t risk missing my shift without a doctor’s note, and I wasn’t a good enough coder to forge one. Even if I had been, I wasn’t sure I would have risked such a thing. Besides, with Viv out, there was going to be extra work as it was. I was just going to have to get creative.

  I slipped out the door, pausing just long enough to confirm the sound of my father snoring in his room. Skipping breakfast meant sneaking out before there were witnesses. I needed more time to come up with a believable story before he had a chance to come up with any questions.

  I got to the coding wing early, but not too early. Almost on autopilot, I logged into my terminal, only to be frustrated to find that Hydro was still on the fritz from the day before. Until I looked at the error on the schematics. It was in the farming wing! Maybe I could use that to my advantage. What if, instead of fixing the problem, I flagged it for a visual check? The error had been unresolved long enough to warrant the flag, and a visual check would get me closer to the Geos’ main food source. This might be my best chance to get the meat I’d promised Wallace.

  I clicked on the error alert and a window opened on my screen, listing the repair history. Not only had this bug been waiting more than the allotted 48 hours, but it looked like it was a recurring error. Normally, this would have made me angry. Just another thing in the Geos that never worked right. Sometimes I wondered if this place was really that much better than risking the Virus.

  I pushed the thought aside and checked the box labelled “review”—flagging it as urgent.

  “CODE 74. VISUAL CHECK REQUIRED,” flashed across my terminal.

  “Ugh,” I groaned aloud, pretending to be annoyed. “Seriously?”

  The coder to my right glanced at the notice on my terminal. “Visual check, huh? Guess you’re going to the farming wing. Bummer.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “And before lunch, too!”

  “Careful not to touch the farmers! If you smell like waste when you come to the lunch hall, we’ll kick you out.”

  “Yeah, that would suck,” I said, a little more absentmindedly than I would’ve liked, as I put my terminal in sleep mode.

  “Save me a seat in the dining hall!” I called back as I left the coding room.

  The thing about the farming wing is that it always smells. You’d think that farming via hydroponics wouldn’t have that result, but no matter what way you look at it, plants need nutrients, and those nutrients come from waste.

  Farmer’s waste, mostly. None of the other Unions participated in any of the farming. But anyone in the farmer’s wing who could no longer handle the physical labor involved in farming directly was transferred to the fertilization department.

  I shuddered at the thought. Imagine not only spending your whole day working with waste, but with your own parents’ or grandparents’ waste! That was why the Farming Union was considered the bottom of the barrel when it came to social status in the Geos.

  Farming was kept further off than most of the other wings. The other Unions refused to work near the smell, so farmers and plumbers were put in one of the farthest corners of the work hall section. I’d have to take the shuttle.

  At the turnstyle, I scanned my waiver card. As expected, the system flagged up that I was trying to use it again too soon. ERROR: INVALID WAIVER flashed on the terminal’s touchscreen, followed by two options: ABORT and EXCEPTION.

  I pressed EXCEPTION, which opened another menu:

  MEDICAL EMERGENCY

  WORK RELATED

  ELITE LOGIN

  I selected WORK RELATED, then typed in the code for the Hydro error I’d coded along with my coder ID. The word APPROVED popped up on the terminal screen in bold green letters and I was let in.

  I sat this time. Being that it was mid-day, only a few of the shuttles were even running. I was the only one in my car. I looked out the window as the shuttle rocketed through tunnels of stone and steel, trying not to doze off. My post-shift shenanigans from the night before had sacrificed some of my alertness, so much so that I almost missed my stop when it was announced.

  FARMING WING

  UNIT: HYDRO

  I jumped through just as the double doors on the shuttle were closing. They bumped each of my shoulders and a bell sounded: *DING* “Please move away from the door,” a soothing female voice recording requested. Just like the computer system, automations in other parts of the Geos were meant to sound placating.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled. The voices became annoying over time. You could put a happy voice in everyone’s ears, but that didn’t keep people fed or warm or healthy.

  Unlike Medical, the farming wing wasn’t monitored by video. People seemed content to work for their wavers, and though strikes could mean losing meal vouchers, it didn’t happen often enough for anyone to resort to stealing food. Another thing that set the farming wing apart from the others were the walls. This was the only place in the Geos that had immaculate white walls. Growing plants underground required as much light as possible, and that meant minimizing the amount of light absorbed by the Hydro gardens’ surrounding environment. Which was great for plants, but creepy to walk through. I was glad when I finally reached the double doors that led to the Growing Room.

  The Growing Room was the largest unit in the lower Geos. All of the food for both the Geos and the Greens was produced there. Even with hydroponic tower gardens, that was quite the feat.

  The Growing Room was divided into sections based on the type of crops: Greens, Sugars, and Grown Meats. The Greens section was responsible for growing lettuces, peas, and some types of squash. The Sugars were for sweet plants like apples, pears, and grapes. And the meats? Well, that one was pretty self-explanatory.
r />   On the wall furthest from the entry was a series of terminals responsible for running the systems that kept the Grown Meats room running. Systems like heat, electricity, and water supply. That was where I came in. I’d put a bug in the Hydro system for the meat section for two reasons. One, I had an old acquaintance who worked in that section, and who’d be more likely to turn a blind eye if I walked out of here with an extra ration or two. And two, meat was the highest-value food in the Geos. It was harder to genetically modify, being that natural meat was grown by harnessing the power of nutrients from a plant-based diet. That meant it took more shifts to perfect a year’s crop. It was also more filling and dense in nutrient content, and other than some of the food in the sugar groups, the best tasting, too. The best meats were saved for the Elite, but top-working families would occasionally get vouchers for things like chicken and porkchops.

  I walked through the rows of HTGs, hydro tower gardens, careful to keep my hands to myself. I didn’t want to chance swiping anything until after I’d talked to—

  “Kev!” I hissed when I finally crept up behind him. Even from behind, he was hard to miss. He was stocky and muscular, with eyes as dark as an unlit Geo hallway. Though he was near my age at sixteen, his hair had already begun receding. A detail he was quite sensitive about, though it only made him look a few years older.

  Kev turned, confused until he saw my face. His expression showed a mix of excitement and suspicion as I approached.

  “What are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “Hydro’s on the fritz on this section. I got an alert to do a visual check at the main terminal.”

  He sighed. “Of course. If it’s not one thing with these systems, it’s another! If they would just invest a little more in upgrades…” He stopped abruptly. “Anyway, that’s no concern of yours.” He waved me down the aisle. “System’s all yours. Hurry it up if you can.”

  There must have been a little too much spring in my step as I passed, because he added, “And don’t go touching anything, either. I don’t want to get in trouble again.”

  I tried my best not to chuckle. “Hey, I’m Hydro, not Electric—there’s no proof I’m the one that hacked the system and animated the lamb!”

  Looking over my shoulder, I was almost certain I saw a smirk spread across his face. Kev and I had known each other a long time. My father had done quite a bit of coding for his father, dragging me with him from time to time. We’d never say it out loud, because we were technically from different social classes, but you could almost say that Kev and I had grown up together. I’d spent a lot of time getting him into trouble over the years, and he’d spent a lot of time forgiving me.

  That’s how I knew he wouldn’t rat me out.

  “Hey,” I lowered my voice, nodding for him to come closer. He looked over his shoulder one way and then the other before approaching me.

  “Mom’s not doing so well,” I whispered, trying to hide the twinge of regret I felt at misleading my friend. I hadn’t planned on letting him in on my plan when I’d come down here, but I couldn’t stand the thought of getting him in trouble without warning him ahead of time. “Dad’s trying, but it’s hard, ya know?”

  Kev bit his bottom lip. He knew me well enough to know what I was about to ask. He also knew I’d never ask unless I had to.

  “I’ll just take a little bit of meat, I promise.”

  He sighed, and then nodded as he glanced around once more to make sure we weren’t being overheard. “Storage in the back room has been prepped but not catalogued. If you have to, take it from there. I’ll see you around, Ty.” His mouth smiled, but his eyes were sad.

  I nodded, “Thanks.”

  I made my way to the terminals, glancing around one more time before logging in. I typed in a few of the usual codes for minor glitches in the system. Of course, none of them worked. I glanced at the clock: almost lunchtime. I’d have to work a little faster if I didn’t want to miss lunch.

  Quickly, I kept on working at it until I managed the necessary code for the glitch, and then I logged out of the system before I moved to a nearby storage container, slipping into my pocket two days’ worth of rations of smoked chicken jerky that had been harvested and packaged. I patted the outside of my coat to make sure there was no tell-tale bulge before moving away.

  My chore done, I headed to the dining hall. Each Union wing had one dining hall. In the older days, on the first layer of the Geos, all of the Unions used to eat together, but as things expanded and social groups started forming, Farrow Corp decided it would be easier and potentially safer for each Union to eat separate from one another.

  I hadn’t been to any of the other dining halls, but I imagined that they were similar to the coders’. A room with rows of metal tables and chairs spread throughout. Overhead, a string of singular lightbulbs in iron cages swinging from a network of cables that lined the ceiling. Across from the entry, in our dining hall entryway, was a set of green double doors that led to the kitchen. The serving area was a long buffet supervised by two attendants—one to serve you, and the other to pull up your file and check for food vouchers.

  Those who ate in the dining hall were offered metal trays, but I was taking my lunch to go today.

  Today’s menu was mostly greens. Just like any other day. But unlike other days, I was antsy. I tried to keep myself composed as the line dwindled. Finally, it was my turn.

  “One lunch ration please, to go.” I handed her my voucher card and she scanned it. The server began packing the greens into a transport box.

  “And actually,” I added on a whim, “my friend Viv is out today. Concussion. I thought I’d bring her lunch so she doesn’t have to miss a meal. Can you help me out?”

  Technically, opening an absent worker’s file was against the rules, but sometimes the attendant would make an exception if they trusted you, given special situations like this one.

  Good thing I’d always been nice to the lunch attendant. She pulled up Viv’s file on her terminal.

  “Yeah, it looks like she has an unused voucher for today.” She turned to the server. “Pack another one up for Ty, eh?” The server nodded.

  “Thanks,” I said. “I know she’ll really appreciate it.”

  I took the two transport boxes and made my way out of the dining hall, trying to keep my pace steady. I’d taken Viv’s lunch on impulse, thinking to use it in my trade with Wallace. But as soon as I made my way out of the dining hall, I felt a weight in the pit of my stomach. Could I really steal this meal from Viv and give it to Wallace, even if she wouldn’t have gotten it one way or another? Everything was spiralling out of control so quickly, and I didn’t know what the right answer was anymore. Was one meal worth an entire friendship? Was my mother’s health worth a meal? Was a chance at saving her worth a friendship?

  I didn’t have the answer, but I did have a good excuse to clock out of the rest of my shift. At least that way I’d only be making one trip today, preserving my travel waivers. As I got on the shuttle, I decided to make a mental list of people in my neighborhood who might be willing to trade me more greens for the yen I’d been hoarding over the past year. It wasn’t doing me any good to hold onto them for when they might be needed, somewhere in the future, and I couldn’t trade them for anything that Wallace was interested in.

  First, I’d have to make a stop home to drop off what I’d collected. Even with Mother being sick, walking around trading for food when I already had two rations in hand would look suspicious. I didn’t need anyone asking me what I was up to.

  Back home, I tiptoed to my room, stopping only briefly at Mother’s door to listen for the sounds of her breathing, to confirm two things—she was still alive, and she was asleep. Today was my mom’s day off, and Dad had started taking extra shifts in circulation. He wouldn’t be back until much later, so I had plenty of time to do what needed to be done.

  I decided I’d hide the jerky and the lunch rations in the tin box under my bed for now. My dad had given it to m
e when I’d been little—something he’d salvaged from the Above, before the Virus. He’d said it used to be called a safe, whatever that meant.

  As a little girl, I’d used it to hide my favorite trinkets. A yoyo some boy had given to me during rec time in year three, a handful of metal jacks, and an incomplete set of playing cards. Now, I rearranged things until they fit, then snapped the latch shut and shoved it back under my bed. My heart was racing as I thought of what I’d have to do next.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I whispered, mostly to myself. I hoped I was right.

  Chapter Ten

  I’d kept a mental list over the past year of families I’d coded for in exchange for yen. It was important to keep track of your client base. As I left the apartment, I hoped that some of them would be interested in another exchange—this time for food.

  It took some digging. Most of my clients were still at their shifts. The handful who weren’t were home on leave for the same reasons as my mother. Their prices were steep, too, but I was able to round up two more rations, and one even had meat included.

  I returned to the apartment, pausing to check on my mom before sitting down at her terminal and logging in to mark my absence as “Family related”—albeit reluctantly. I hadn’t taken any of the emergency absences for the quarter, saving them in case Mother took a turn for the worse. Using them when I didn’t have to felt wrong.

  I logged back out of the terminal and paused a minute, thinking of Viv’s lunch. Finally, I headed to my room and opened the box where I’d stored the rations, and then stared into it a long while. Longer than a good friend would, unless that friend was thinking of stealing food from someone she cared about. But, no. I wasn’t that desperate. Not yet.

  I grabbed Viv’s lunch along with my handful of jacks and the rubber ball that had come with them. If I knew Viv, brain rest would have her bored out of her mind. I could spare time for a game with an old friend.