Biome

by Ryan Galloway

  “Sure,” he says. Though he smiles, I can tell I haven’t changed his mind. He points at a switch on the beacon. “Just flip that to turn it on. I’ll make sure everyone gets a tracker so that at least one of us is able to find you quickly.” He glances at the clock. “Okay. Well, we’d better get set up. Good luck, Elizabeth.”

  “No need for luck,” I tell him. “It’s all talent.”

  The moment he’s gone, my facade of confidence drops. I begin pacing the short span of the pod, my heart fluttering like a tiny sparrow.

  I’m more nervous than I expected. Even more than when I entered the Helix. Because it’s true. Time is almost up. If we’re going to stop the Revisions, we need to do it soon. And we’ll need help.

  So when the headaches start, I’ll just have to keep going—no matter how painful it gets.

  I decide that for now, the best plan is to relax. Once I’m in the moment, I can use the cues of their faces, voices, and expressions to help me remember.

  Finding a water bottle on the desk, I drink it all in one pull. Then I sit in the middle of the floor, cross my legs, and slow my breathing. Empty my mind of worry and thought, focusing on each swell of my lungs. I imagine that I’m breathing in the color blue, refreshing as an autumn wind, and breathing out all the hurt, anger, and stress in a glaring red.

  Some period of time passes this way, and then there’s a knock at the door. The illusion of calm pops and fear rushes back in, closing around my chest. When I reach for the handle, I expect to find Terra’s jeering face on the other side.

  But instead, I find Chloe.

  “Hey,” she says softly. “Are you ready?”

  I’m so nervous that I can only manage a nod.

  As we reach the bottom of the stairs, the hour is announced. Any other day I’d be headed to lunch. Now I feel like I’m heading to an execution. I stare at the floor, allowing Chloe to guide me through the crowded halls, hearing voices discuss things that no longer matter. Not to me, at least.

  It seems incredible that our worlds have become poles apart in the course of only a few days. Their concerns are already so different from mine. They have no idea the pressure I’m under, the kind of responsibility I feel for their memories.

  How can they not even suspect what’s happening behind these artificial walls? Was I ever so oblivious? I know that I was. But my blissful ignorance is long dead.

  I doubt even a Revision could change that.

  To save time we take the Wheel, then head into the Bolo domes. Chloe is silent beside me. I can’t think of what to say. Back on Earth, the old Lizzy would’ve just withdrawn. But that’s not good enough anymore.

  I wronged my friend. I should be apologizing for what happened in Romie’s pod, when I was so careless with her feelings. I should do what I can to explain and try to make it up to her.

  The conviction builds and I gather my courage, but when I finally manage to speak, all I’m able to get out is, “Are you still mad at me?”

  My voice is hardly more than a whisper. I can’t see her reaction because I’m doing my best to mimic someone else’s body language, keeping my gaze locked downward to avoid the eyes of strangers. Trying in so many ways to be anyone but me.

  It takes her a minute to reply.

  “Mad at you for what?” she finally asks.

  “For being stupid. For not thinking about your feelings that night.”

  She lets out a long breath.

  “You’re not stupid, Lizzy,” she says. “But… yes, at first I was hurt. I couldn’t understand why you wanted to sleep in his pod again. But then I remembered that the first time, you came right out and told me what was going on. You said there was nothing between you two. And, well, I realized that I wasn’t trusting you. I wasn’t thinking about how hard this must all be for you. I was only thinking about myself.”

  “Chloe—” I begin, but she isn’t finished.

  “And you know what? Right now, it’s not about me. It’s about all of us. And if we’re going to get through it, I need to trust you. I think you’ve earned that much.”

  Now I’m glad I’m looking down, because she can’t see my face. What did I ever do to earn such a friend? I feel sure that I’ll never deserve her.

  As we enter the Clover Biome, my lungs are greeted by fresh, heady air. It strikes me again how much more pleasant this climate is than the chill of Polar, the heat of Xeri, and the humidity of Bolo. Pollen fans on the west curve of the dome create a soft wind, rippling leaves and lifting stray hairs off my forehead.

  “They’re all waiting in the glade,” Chloe tells me.

  I nod. As usual, the swelling verdancy of this habitat makes my own herb beds feel like a trifling backyard garden.

  Nearing the trees that fence in the flower beds, I begin to catch glimpses of pink camellia, red rose, and the full midnight of bluebell. I can also sense the traces of memories stirred up by the perfumed air. Evening walks between these trees, soft discussions of home. Even stolen kisses. The remembrance brings heat to my chest, so I focus instead on the sprays of color.

  It really is like a glade, if you can overlook the plastic divider blocks.

  As we emerge into the glade, I’m a little relieved to see that there are fewer than forty-five cadets. Fifteen, tops. They stand in an awkward circle, fidgeting and stealing glances back toward the path as if afraid they might get caught skipping lunch.

  When they see me, a ripple of surprise moves through the group. Then their murmuring ceases.

  “Hey, Lizzy,” Terra says, her tone unnaturally friendly. She waves me into the center to stand beside her. “We’re all waiting for you.”

  “Thanks,” I say flatly. I try to draw on my earlier irritation for confidence. But as I step up and survey the group, the feeling evaporates. What if I don’t know what to say? What if the headache is too strong and I can’t remember a thing?

  My throat has turned to chalk.

  “Glad everyone made it,” Terra begins. “So sorry for all the mystery. We’ve got some things to tell you, and we couldn’t risk being overheard.”

  I almost snort at the irony of this coming from her but manage to restrain myself. She’s being uncharacteristically bubbly. But then I recall her many ballet performances on Earth, when her whole personality was so carefully poised to please judges. It must be second nature to her.

  “Like what?” asks Stephanie, a Scrub. She’s all angles, with sharp elbows and a pointed chin. We’ve never really gotten along.

  “You said if I came you’d take me in your gathering crew,” says a boy named Ian. “That you’d make sure I could drive the rover.”

  Still smiling, Terra nods.

  “And I will. But first, we need to talk. About the doctors and that virus they keep going on about. If you know Lizzy, you know she hasn’t been around lately. A lot of you probably thought she was in quarantine. The real reason is much harder to believe. And much more important.”

  Now she’s just being theatric. Some of the cadets are raising skeptical eyebrows. A few shuffle uneasily or frown. I take a deep breath.

  Whatever happens next, I need to stay calm and keep talking.

  “Yes,” I say. “I wasn’t in quarantine.”

  “Louder,” says Matthew—a Bolo, I think. “I can’t hear you.”

  “I wasn’t in quarantine,” I repeat, flustered. “I was… in hiding. I’ve been hiding from the doctors because of what they were trying to do to me.”

  Everyone is staring. I can feel my face getting hot. As if Noah’s anxiety is creeping through my veins and up my neck.

  “What were they trying to do to you, Elizabeth?” Terra prompts me through her teeth. I look at her, standing with her hands on her hips, and I’m struck by how assured she seems. And it occurs to me that if she can be so confident, so can I.

  Deliberately I push aside my misgivings and pull from her body language—her charisma, her bravado, her sense of importance.

  “Doctor Dosset and the others have b
een erasing our memories,” I say, raising my chin and turning to meet their gazes. “They do it every Sunday night. It’s called a Revision. Dosset has been storing them in a kind of Memory Bank. And last Monday, I woke up with that whole bank inside my head.”

  I take another breath of blue, expelling red. Relax my shoulders. Allow my hands to become expressive as I speak instead of just hanging at my sides.

  “Recently I learned that Doctor Atkinson was the one who gave me the Memory Bank and that he had a plan to stop the Revisions for good. So yesterday I broke into the Helix to rescue him. Dosset had him locked up and was slowly erasing his memories as a way to torture him. Unfortunately, he was too traumatized to help us, and he fled the colony. Now we’re looking for support from you, to help us stop the next Revision—which will happen in two days.”

  The glade goes quiet as a gentle wind strokes the tresses of a willow at my back, trickling through the leaves. It’s just like it was with Noah, everyone stunned into silence. I play with an inoculator in my pocket, absently popping the cap off and on, off and on. Finally, a slow smirk appears on Stephanie’s face.

  “This… is a joke, right?”

  “I think I should go to lunch,” a girl named Julia speaks up. She takes a step backward.

  Terra elbows me in the ribs, hard.

  “I can prove it,” I say quickly. At least for a second, this stops them. “I can tell you about the memories they erased.”

  I feel a little like the hokey magician my mother got for my fourth birthday party, who was about as convincing as his curly black wig. Every year after that, my dad would do a “birthday trick” in his honor. Now I almost pity the guy.

  The cadets hesitate at the edge of the glade.

  “Like what?” Julia asks.

  This is it. I edge closer and attempt to clear my head, to think about her face, her name, trying to allow dormant memories forward.

  But the second I do, my headache reaches a fever pitch. It’s as if a white-hot iron has been placed behind my eyes, strobing daggers to the back of my skull. I stop at once, feeling dizzy. Drawing on Terra’s persona while digging around in the Memory Bank is obviously too much for me to handle.

  So I break my focus.

  It feels as if I’m deflating. As the cold, grasping fingers of anxiety wrap around my lungs, I turn to Julia. Her eyes are wide as she stares into mine.

  Can she sense my fear? I wonder what she must think of me; what this must look like to her. What would I think in her shoes?

  I’d think she was insane.

  Or at least sick with the rumored mind-warping virus. How could I not, after hearing such wild accusations thrown at the doctors I’d have every reason to trust?

  And a rebellion—now, there’s a ludicrous suggestion. A laughable idea. What would compel me to trust a stranger to the point of a mutinous uprising? Really, I’m no better than a tacky magician pulling memories from a hat. None of these cadets will trust me. I wouldn’t even trust myself.

  Seconds pass as these thoughts cycle through my head and I remain frozen. Julia takes another step backward.

  “What’s she doing?” Ian says uncomfortably.

  “Say something,” Terra growls.

  I force myself to open my mouth.

  “W-when you were little, you were in a friend’s basement and the lights went off,” I say, clumsily drawing a memory at random. The effort sends a stab of pain through my head. Ignoring it, I scrunch my brow in concentration. “You were terrified, bumping into things, trying to find a way out. For years after that, you were scared of going into the basement. That’s why you’re afraid of the dark.”

  Everyone looks at Julia, who glances around at the probing eyes.

  “I don’t remember that,” she says.

  “Well, it was erased,” says Chloe gently. “Does it seem familiar?”

  “Not really. I mean, I’m not sure.”

  I lick my lips, barely keeping it together. This won’t help. But how can I just quit, with everyone watching?

  “Try another memory,” Romie urges from nearby.

  “What about—” I dig deep, but the recollections are growing jagged with the pain, like pieces of wood being slowly ground to splinters. Blindly I lay hold of another memory. “Um, you used to hide under the kitchen table when your parents would fight. You memorized the spiral of the rug, because you’d trace the creases with your fingers to distract yourself when they yelled.”

  Her eyes go wide and then her face flares red. Some part of me recognizes that I’ve said the wrong thing. I’m again reminded of my first talk with Noah, the way I fumbled, pulling up embarrassing memories.

  These are experiences she doesn’t want to recall.

  “You’re making that up,” Julia stammers, shaking her head. “That didn’t happen.”

  “Something else,” Terra says.

  “All right, fine,” I snap, my anger finally returning. It’s the boost I need. I clench my teeth so hard my jaw aches. But still, the memories flutter away from me like startled moths.

  I stubbornly fix my gaze on Ian.

  “You had a younger brother. He was more like your mom, so she liked him better, which made you jealous. Sometimes you’d bully him to make yourself feel better.” I turn on Stephanie as the headache ratchets higher. “You stole money from your brother and he got in trouble for losing it. You never told anyone.” Next is Lauren, a Xeri girl. “You didn’t say goodbye to your father when you left for Mars because of a stupid fight. You regretted it every day until they erased the memory. ” A noxious substance is burning at the back of my mouth. I look at Matthew as my eyes begin to water. “When you left, you had hardly anyone to say goodbye to—”

  “Lizzy,” A voice says.

  The trees are spinning, but I keep going anyway.

  “—felt like no one cared—”

  “Lizzy.”

  Someone is at my arm, keeping me stable in a world that has turned upside down. For a few moments, I just blink at Noah, at his gaze filled with worry. I focus on his face, his deep, gentle eyes. Slowly, balance returns. I look out and I see that the cadets are watching me with stunned expressions.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Stephanie asks.

  “The memories give her headaches,” Chloe explains.

  “I didn’t do that,” Ian interrupts. He’s turned pale. “I wouldn’t do that.”

  “Me neither,” Lauren agrees defensively. “I love my dad.”

  There’s a beat of silence while the glade wobbles around me. I feel as if I should say more, but I have a feeling I’ve already said too much.

  Anyway, I’m afraid that if I open my mouth again I’ll vomit.

  “So… what?” Matthew asks at length. “You expect us to believe we’re all being brainwashed or something?”

  “Exactly,” says Terra, straining for her winning smile. “And we need your help to stop them. Because in two days, they’re going to do it again.”

  Her words are met with another span of incredulous silence.

  And that’s when the alarm goes off.

  Chapter Thirteen

  From the overhead, echoing around the biome, a sharp beeping fills the air. It’s the same alarm I heard that morning in Group, right before Dosset appeared in Meng’s class.

  “All cadets, report to your theater,” the female voice commands above the drone. “All cadets, report to your theater. All cadets, report…”

  I look at the others. The shock I see on their faces is no doubt mirrored in my own. Then, as one, the cadets scatter out of the glade like startled deer.

  “No, wait!” Terra begins, but it’s too late. In no time we’re left alone. She wheels on me. “What the hell was that, Elizabeth?”

  “They wouldn’t have believed me,” I say, but I know an explanation is pointless at the moment. “Anyway, we don’t have time to get mad at each other. That alarm is about us.”

  “We’re not getting mad at each other,” Terra snarls. “I’m getti
ng mad at you.”

  “Please, Terra,” Romie intervenes. “Elizabeth is correct. We don’t have time for an argument. Dosset must be retaliating for Atkinson’s escape.”

  “Couldn’t it be anything else?” Chloe asks hopefully. “An emergency drill?”

  “If it is, we can be pleasantly surprised.” Romie turns to me. “For now, it’s essential that you get as far from here as possible.”

  “What about you?” I ask, looking at Noah. He’s still supporting me on his arm. “Those cadets could turn you in. If they tell a doctor you were involved…”

  “I guess that’s the risk we took,” he says quietly. “Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.”

  Romie nods.

  “Find somewhere safe. Alert us when you get there.”

  The beacon. I instinctively reach for it, feeling the tiny lump in my pocket. Then I look at each of them and know there’s no point resisting. For now, I have to run. We can think through our next step when it’s safe again.

  And just like that, I’m off.

  The ground pitches beneath my feet, legs still shaky from the trauma of the headache. It’s not until I’m out of view of the glade that I realize: The next time I see my friends, they may not know me. Any one of those fifteen cadets could decide I’m crazy or sick and turn us all in. All it takes is one.

  Jogging down the path, I wonder who it will be.

  Hysteria fills the Clover halls like poison gas. Bodies choke the tight passages, rushing for their theater as I push deliberately through, slipping the surgical mask over my ears and tugging the hat lower. It almost makes me manic, walking in a crowd like this. Even with the majority of my face hidden, anyone could potentially spot me.

  Ahead I see my route, the portal into the Scrub domes. If I can reach it, I’ll lose myself in the biome—perhaps in the swamp, in a dense pocket of reeds that reach to my shoulders.

  I’m halfway there when a group of Xeris crosses my path. I try to shoulder by, but the boy in front stops me.

  “This way, cadet,” he says gruffly.

  His voice is familiar. I think his name is Maxwell. Domineering. Stern. One of the oldest cadets on the colony.