Nyxia

by Scott Reintgen

  “That’s the way it feels now, but it won’t last. Babel want to make us into something. They want to carve us the right way.” She sighs. “Besides, I don’t care about the money.”

  That stops me cold. I care so much about the money that it’s hard imagining someone who doesn’t. I pegged Jaime as the one who didn’t really care about the money, not Kaya.

  “But I thought you said you were broken?”

  Kaya’s eyes drift back to the ceiling. “I am. Money won’t fix that.”

  “Then why come?”

  “Eden.”

  She makes the word sound like a promise, like a dream.

  “I wanted to go to Eden. Can you even imagine it, Emmett? Another planet. With different species and people and places. There’s not much left for me on Earth. I wanted to go as far away as possible. Where better than a new planet?” Her eyes squeeze shut for a second. “But they don’t tell you the pain comes with you. They don’t tell you that hurt travels at light-speed too.”

  She slides from the couch, squeezes my shoulder, and disappears into her room. I sit on the couch for a while after that. I hate how right she is about all of it. When Babel chose me, I let myself believe it was because I did something special. My whole life had been one bad break after another and it finally felt like I was getting mine. Kaya’s words cast a shadow over that.

  I’m about to call it a day when someone actually knocks on the door. I stare for a few seconds, thinking I imagined the noise, but another knock sounds. What now?

  I cross the room and scan my suit, and the door gasps open. Bilal frames the entry.

  “Hello, Emmett.”

  “Hey, man. Everything all right?”

  “Of course,” he says. “I just came to formally invite you to my room.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “Right now?”

  He laughs nervously. “No, apologies, it is an open invitation. Come any time.”

  “To your room?”

  He nods. “Exactly.”

  “Like…to play games or something? Help me out here, man. I’m lost.”

  Bilal frowns now. “Games? I suppose we could, yes. It is just an invitation.”

  I laugh now, completely confused. “An invitation for what?”

  “My…it is…” He takes a deep breath. “Maybe I’ve been unclear. Where I am from, it is a custom to open your home to friends. I just want you to know my home is open to you and Kaya. I think highly of the two of you and would enjoy your company. That is all.”

  “Oh. Thanks, man. I appreciate that.”

  He nods, like the visit’s been a success, but then he just stands there, waiting.

  “Did you mean right now?”

  “No, of course not.” He blushes again, backpedaling. “Good night, Emmett.”

  I wish him good night and can’t help laughing when the door shuts. He’s awkward as hell, but I like the guy. I slip into my room and spend the next few hours working on manipulations. I try to imagine the others with their feet up while I have my head down and my nose to the grindstone. Eventually, though, the exhaustion has me tucked in hours before my normal bedtime. I lay there, trying to keep my mind focused on the highlights of the day.

  I want to pass out to the image of Kaya reading me books, or Bilal extending awkward invitations. But I lose the fight. My mind clings to the image of Isadora. My dreams are filled with crowned eights. They multiply, circling me, and each one’s holding a dark, dark dagger.

  DAY 11, 9:45 A.M.

  Aboard Genesis 11

  As the new week begins, Longwei changes his method of attack.

  Instead of physical violence, he demonstrates his hatred by destroying me in every single morning competition. He’s first in all of our nyxia manipulations. He aces our quiz on the predominant mammals in Eden. He even surprises us in the water tank. Instead of manipulating his nyxian ring into goggles, he makes a special pair of shoes. We all crane our necks as he slips on the webbed padding and dives into the pool. I’m not sure what they are or how he made them, but he swims like he’s an Olympian and crushes my times.

  After each task, he looks over until I meet his eyes. It’s like he’s making sure I know that all of this, all his effort and all his skill, is now directed solely at me. Instead of being angry, though, I find myself smiling. I like this version of Longwei. At least this version feels human.

  When lunch rolls around, I’m second on the scoreboard, but the discussion revolves around the afternoon event. Running in the Rabbit Room will be replaced by another competition for the next nine days. Everyone’s discussing the possibilities like it’s going to be fun. But so far Babel’s had us digitally murder each other, swim through storms, and run through exhausting obstacle courses. I doubt the next event will be midnight bowling or putt-putt.

  “What if it’s, like, flying little spaceships?” Jazzy suggests. “I’d love to fly something.”

  Katsu wags his fork. “No way they let us fly a spaceship.”

  “As long as it’s not the Rabbit Room, I don’t care what it is,” says Bilal. He looks tired, like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. I guess we all look that way. “I hate the Rabbit Room.”

  I glance over, surprised Bilal’s even familiar with the concept of hating something.

  “Only because we always win,” Azima teases him. “I love the Rabbit Room. I love to run. And I have never seen such lovely trees before.”

  Bilal frowns. “You ran into one of those lovely trees. Remember?”

  “It was still lovely,” Azima answers. “I wonder why they make us run so much. Will we run on Eden?”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kaya looking deep in thought, like she’s disappeared into a place where none of us can follow. Today her hair’s in a thick braid that drapes over one shoulder like a sash. It takes her a minute to remember she’s in a world with other people.

  “Azima asks a good question.”

  Kaya’s voice is so quiet that it silences every other conversation.

  “I did?” Azima replies.

  “What are they preparing us for?” Kaya’s eyes are lost in calculation. “The nyxia tasks make sense. They’re preparing us to use the substance we have to gather. I’d imagine it can be reduced into a certain form that’s easier to transport into space. And swimming. That means there will be rivers or oceans. The Rabbit Room is either to keep us in shape or to prepare us for running from place to place. But why are they having us fight?”

  “Didn’t you see what happened to the marines in that video?” I ask.

  Jazzy makes a face. “But we don’t have to fight ’em. Mr. Defoe said the Adamites like us. We’re their welcome guests.”

  “Maybe there are other species,” Bilal suggests. “Maybe we have to fight those.”

  “Every action has a motive,” Kaya says firmly. “I know the next task too. We haven’t learned how to mine the substance. That’s coming next.”

  Katsu shrugs his massive shoulders. “None of this matters if you’re not in the top eight.”

  He’s in the top four, feeling safe. Roathy and Isadora have the lowest scores. Every day Roathy doesn’t return, his score drops and my guilt rises, but Isadora’s the real surprise. Her scores weren’t great to begin with, but now she’s mentally checked out of the competition. She is Longwei’s opposite. The only similarity between them is their isolation, their distance. But while Longwei listens to each conversation and files the information away to be used later, Isadora doesn’t seem to hear a word.

  She stares at the distant blast doors, waiting for Roathy to come back. Last week, I overheard Kaya trying to cheer her up. Isadora snapped for her to go away. She and Roathy didn’t even know each other before boarding the ship, but his injury’s made them thick as thieves. It’s as if seeing him wounded drew Isadora to his side. It reminds me of the dudes who showed up to school with broken bones. Girls who didn’t usually give them the time of day were lining up to sign casts or carry books.

  All it
means for Isadora is that her score is dropping almost point for point with his. A part of me feels bad for her, but a bigger part of me says that her loss is my gain. One less person to have to keep an eye out for. The thought leaves me feeling cold, guilty.

  Defoe arrives a little later than normal. He’s back in his smoke-threaded suit and looking like the whole world is bending backward to give him what he wants.

  “New teams for the afternoon session,” he announces.

  Kaya nods like she expected it. A glance shows that Azima is distraught. I don’t really know how to feel. It makes sense for Babel to mix us up, to not let us get too close with any one team or group. But I liked being on a team, and I liked winning as a team. Now the game changes.

  “Emmett, Longwei, Roathy, Katsu, and Jazzy.”

  I can’t help but glance over at Longwei. His eyes are locked on mine, and he’s not happy. Finally, I think, an event he can’t beat me in. The thought makes me smile. I just have to hope he doesn’t stab me or something. We’re short a teammate because of Roathy’s absence, but even without him, we’ll still have a good chance of winning. The only misfortune is being set against Kaya. My friend and ally, but also the group’s best strategist.

  “Kaya’s team. Do you want to go first or second?”

  I’m surprised to hear Defoe call them Kaya’s, but her teammates don’t question it. She’s made a name for herself in the Rabbit Room. Longwei may have the highest score, but she’s the one people rally around. She’s smart and kind and quick on her feet. We watch the other team circle and listen as she whispers a plan. Jaime surfaces from their huddle.

  “We’ll go second,” he announces.

  Defoe turns and leads us straight down to the Rabbit Room. Bilal groans with disgust as the blast doors open. I’m wishing I hadn’t eaten so much. How much more can they make us run? As we arrive, though, it’s easy to see that the room’s changed. The mesh net has been removed. Overhead, ceiling panels hang open to reveal wires and hardware. Spindly white cords dangle from the ceiling like spiderwebs. I count five thick cords. One for each member of the team.

  “Initiate drill sequence,” Defoe commands.

  The lights in the room dim. Each thick cord branches off into five nerve endings. At the end of these smaller wires are dime-sized white circles. As we watch, the cords float upward and arrange themselves in a halo. No one moves, because it’s like watching a science-fiction movie come to life. Most of Babel’s technology has been an upgrade of what we have back home. This is the first time the tech makes Babel seem as alien to us as the Adamites are.

  Who are these people? I glance over and catch Kaya’s raised eyebrow. At least I’m not the only one thrown off by Babel’s endless gadgets. I file it away under L for Look Into It.

  “First team, you’re up,” Defoe says. “Complete the tutorial and begin your task. In order to win, you must accomplish the task faster than the other team. Good luck.”

  Longwei leads us out to the cords. Katsu makes a joke about mind control, but no one laughs because it feels too close to the truth. Up close, I hear electrodes firing and feel a strange warmth beneath the sentient cords. Taking a deep breath, I step beneath the nearest set and press up onto my tiptoes.

  One by one, the little circles suction to my face. The first one lands and the temperature in the room goes up twenty degrees; a second later I’m sweating into my suit. The next circle attaches, and a whispering gasp of smoke sounds. The third one makes the room smell like sulfur. The fourth gives me cotton mouth, a taste like rotting cigars. And when the last one lands, my synapses all fire at once and I lurch into the unknown realities of elsewhere.

  A sliver of my brain holds to the knowledge that what I’m seeing isn’t real. On my left, Katsu, Longwei, and Jazzy look like wax sculptures. None of them move or talk or breathe. This isn’t real, I think again. But then the rest of my brain attacks the sliver. It feels real. I put a hand up and part the rising smoke. My eyes drag across a landscape of barren hills and rock-strewn barrows. The sky isn’t much of a sky. More of a misty overlord pressing down on any and every thing.

  “Cool,” someone says. I look over to find Katsu kneeling on the ground. He’s holding a shard of volcanic glass. He snaps it into two pieces and laughs. “Really cool.”

  Behind him, Longwei’s moving now. Jazzy stands to one side, her eyes pinched shut.

  “You all right, Jazzy?” I ask.

  Her eyes open, and she smiles. “Yeah, sorry. The heat. It kind of feels like home.”

  I shoot her a smile as we start to explore the surroundings. There’s something contagious about being thrust into the unknown that has us laughing and pointing like little kids. It’s impossible to see much beyond two hundred meters, though. I can feel the ground pulsing like it’s alive. It reminds me of the first day Defoe gave us our nyxian rings, like something waits in the stones. We’re all exploring the foreign landscape when the biggest truck I’ve ever seen bulldozes through the misty nothing. Its wheels are twice my size. A white-railed staircase and matching ladder are built into the front of it.

  As the driver pulls around, I see that the huge rig is broken up into three parts. The front end features a driver’s hatch and an intricate nest of high-tech panels and switches. The middle section looks like a shadowy, robotic bird perched inside a cage of metal beams. Behind it is a loading bed that could easily fit two or three houses. A miniature rover roosts there, loaded down with its own mechanical goodies.

  Smoke continues to dance around our ankles as the driver parks and descends the ladder. He’s just like one of the marines from Babel’s first video. Hair buzzed, utility belt brimming with gadgets, and a voice deeper than the idling truck engine.

  “Welcome to the nyxian mining orientation video. Are all trainees accounted for?”

  We all look around. For the first time, Roathy’s absence stings in the other direction. I glance at the others guiltily before Longwei says, “Yes, sir.”

  The marine straightens. “I’m Lieutenant Light. Behind you is the finest piece of mining equipment you’ll ever see. This machine is a hell of a lot smarter than you are, so most of the time you just let it do its thing. Whenever you arrive at a dig site, the first step is surveying the deposit. Everything starts with the command panel.”

  He walks us over to the truck and slides away the metal siding. The lights and clockwork underneath look as indecipherable as hieroglyphics. There’s a mess of buttons and an empty black screen. He presses and holds a silver button for three seconds. “All functions require a three-second activation as a protection against accidents. This button initiates the surveying process.”

  Hatches between the wheel sets open, and a dark cloud of drones sweeps past us. We can hear a low buzz as they start laser-scanning the terrain. As they work, digital imaging maps itself onto the screen in front of us. Babel’s bells and whistles keep getting more and more absurd.

  The drones return to their hatches, and the marine brings our attention back to the screen.

  “There are two readouts for every nyxia mine. The first one shows the depth and width of your deposit.” A 3-D image displays a jagged underground hive of nyxia. The black spirals down some three hundred meters and stretches about half as wide. As we watch, a pink blip pings along the surface of the deposit. The marine stubs a finger at it. “That’s your origin point. The very center of the deposit and, therefore, the best place to start mining. However, it’s always best to consider the second screen before you begin the mining process.”

  He makes a show of pressing his finger to the screen and swiping left. The black hive is replaced with a diagram of crisscrossing red slashes. They’re not nearly as numerous, and most of them are gathered in the deepest corners of the mine.

  “As with most underground operations, there are firedamp pockets. The key thing to remember is that red is bad. Very bad. Your commander will have to keep an eye on where they are so that you don’t drill right into one and get yourself blown t
o shit. Some of the smaller ones can be siphoned, but the computer indicates pockets that are too dangerous to get close to.”

  He swipes the screen a second time and the images merge. A black spiral of nyxia tainted by red gas pockets that, according to this dude, are waiting to blow me up. Great.

  “The computer will make the safest decision. Keep that in mind. If your engineer sees a way around the gas pockets that will be more lucrative, that decision is up to him to make. As long as you don’t endanger the lives of your team, you can deviate from the computer’s decisions.” The marine presses a pinkish button and counts off three seconds with his other hand. When his final finger ticks off, the truck lurches to life. We all stumble away as the engine revs and the wheels turn and the whole thing rumbles forward. Driverless. No one reacts, because self-driving cars are standard issue. It’s the unloading of the drill that catches our attention.

  The system controls lead the truck slightly to the left, and it heaves to a stop after about fifty meters. The marine holds out a hand to stop as a metallic screech sounds over everything. We watch the silver wings spread on their own. Huge, spiked talons extend and bury into the ground. The rest of the metal contraption slides out after them, unfolding like a massive claw.

  Katsu says, “Are you guys even seeing this? This is amazing!”

  Thirty seconds later, our drill hovers above the soil ominously. The thing is fifteen meters high. We shuffle to the side as the truck reverses to give the looming device a wide berth for digging.

  “You’ll want teams of five,” he says. “Your commander monitors everything. He or she should give instructions and keep everyone working toward the goal. Second job goes to your jackjack. There’s space in that drill for a driver. The jackjack has to be quick with his hands, strong, and responsive to even the slightest change beneath the surface. You need someone calm too. If shit hits the fan two hundred meters underground, they need to have ice in their veins. Two people are needed to set up your conveyor shaft, and the last person will transform nyxia into our ideal cargo dimensions. Any questions?”