A soft buzzing from the bedside table brought Tiera back to the present. It’s probably Xana again. Xana had sent Tiera a message via smart glass the day before, asking if Tiera had heard back from the university yet. She still hadn’t responded. Tiera rolled to her side so that she was facing the wall, her back to the bed and to her smart glass. The wall was within arm’s reach now. All she had to do was place her hand on it and it would turn into a window. But she didn’t. Her thoughts had already returned to Wednesday night.
After Byrani was finished and Daven started to make excuses, Tiera decided she had had enough. She stood up from her place at the table and wordlessly left the dining room, heading straight for bed. She didn’t sleep of course—she lay awake for most of the night, thinking and crying until her mind couldn’t stand it anymore. That’s how she had spent the last day or so: thinking in circles until sleep finally took her.
I’m not going home. I’m never going home. There won’t be a home to go back to. Tiera thought of Natalie, her parents, her brother. I’m never going to see them again. They’ll all be dead soon.
She started thinking of people she didn’t even know—her waitress at The Cheesecake Factory, the man whose office cubicle was next to hers, the stranger in the car ahead of her at the Wendy’s drive thru who had paid for her meal. For some reason thinking about the people she didn’t know felt worse than thinking about her loved ones. Am I really that terrible of a person that I feel worse about dead strangers than my own dead family?
Something inside Tiera balked at that idea, and the small part of her that she had been ignoring began to gain traction. Those strangers represent potential—they’re people I could have known, people I could have loved. They’re experiences I’ll never have and hopes I’ll never achieve. I know I love my family and I know my family loves me. But mourning my family is one thing—mourning my entire future is another.
For the first time since her parents had tried to get her interested in their church all those years ago, Tiera tried to pray. She didn’t know who she was reaching out to or exactly what she felt she needed, but if nothing else it was something different. Something different from the mental torture she had been dragging herself through, something different from the grief of so much loss.
But it’s not lost yet.
Tiera stayed on the floor for another hour, letting that idea bounce around her head until it picked up enough force to get her to sit up. From there, Tiera had a vantage point of the dirty dishes on top of her bed and the bone-dry shower through the open bathroom door, both of which made her feel so much shame that she wanted to just lie back down again. But she didn’t.
After wiping her eyes with her sleeve, Tiera stood up. I’ll cry more in the bathroom, she told herself. But when she reached the bathroom, Tiera activated the small waterfall that Daven probably thought was a normal shower. I’ll cry more in the shower. But after she had dried off and gotten dressed in the most depressing outfit that her limited wardrobe could manage (a flowing, navy blue jumpsuit), she still hadn’t cried. Tiera frowned. I’ll cry after I check my smart glass.
When Tiera reached her smart glass, she saw that the message she had received earlier wasn’t from Xana as she had previously thought—it was from the Faroa University of Humanities—and Tiera prepared herself to cry at what she knew must be their rejection letter. But then she actually read it.
“Tiera Lorraine Jasperson: After careful consideration, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to attend the Faroa University of Humanities. The semester you applied to will begin on Monday, day 1 of month 8, year 6027 H.F. Because of your unique background, Professor Emmel Jens will be your contact should you face any issues adapting to our regimen or our culture. She has also volunteered her services in helping you choose a curriculum most suited to your needs. Please view the enclosed orientation tutorials for further resources and information.”
The titles of the tutorials included everything from “Registering for Classes” to “Over Three Million Years of Excellence”—Tiera raised her eyebrows at that one. How old is “old” here? But she put her smart glass in her pocket without opening any of the tutorials. Tiera didn’t quite feel happy—or excited, or relieved, or any emotion really—about being accepted. Her emotions were all tired. But Tiera did recognize something akin to resolve trudging through her swampy heart.
It’s not lost yet.
Tiera approached the bedroom door, then hesitated. “Time?” she asked the air, and a set of large black numbers appeared on the wall next to her. It’s 12:37. Daven should still be in class.
“Thank you,” Tiera told the wall reflexively, and she was surprised to see the words “you’re welcome” take the place of the time, then vanish. Oh gosh—this house isn’t AI, is it? They’ve made movies about that sort of thing. “Um,” Tiera cleared her throat, “you don’t consider yourself sentient, do you?”
In exactly the same place as before, a single word appeared: “No.”
Tiera breathed a sigh of relief, then opened the door and walked tentatively to the kitchen. Since the night she went catatonic, Daven had appeared a few times to give her food—which she only ate once he stopped trying to talk to her and left the room—but she hadn’t eaten anything yet today, and she could really feel it. But when Tiera opened the refrigerator, its rotating shelves automatically pushing themselves outward and toward her, all she saw was pizza, pizza, pizza.
I just can’t get away from that night, can I? Tiera grabbed what she recognized as the last few slices of her own pizza and took it to the dining room, plopping it onto the table. I guess I should have expected it though. It didn’t take Tiera long to notice that Daven preferred eating out to cooking at home. Looking back, she was surprised she even found bread on her first morning here. After staring at her cold pizza for a minute or two, Tiera shuddered as she thought about what could have happened if she had found out about the Milky Way’s destruction in a restaurant. It seemed she had Byrani to thank for learning about the bad news in the comfort of Daven’s home. She was the obvious cook of the group, after all, so the home-cooked meal must have been her idea.
Tiera finished her slow fight with the pizza in front of her (she had barely taken her first bite when her appetite started to go), then pulled out her smart glass and stared at the message Xana had sent her yesterday. She took a deep breath. I can’t live here anymore. Then Tiera sent her reply. About 15 minutes later, Daven arrived.
After stepping inside and pulling off his brown jacket, he finally noticed Tiera on the second floor, still seated at the dining room table. “Oh!” He froze in place. “You’re—uh . . . ”
“I’m not on the floor anymore,” Tiera finished for him. “Thanks for noticing.” Tiera closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to fit some mental reins on her sarcasm. When she opened her eyes again, Daven was still frozen just inside the door, an odd look on his face. Guilt? Tiera wasn’t sure. “Please, sit down. I want to talk to you about a few things.” Tiera gestured to the tall wooden dining chair opposite her own.
Daven threw his jacket on the couch as he made his careful approach to the dining room. He seemed to want to look at Tiera, but he had trouble maintaining eye contact for more than a few seconds at a time. He sat down, brought his hands together, and stared at them. Then he finally looked up.
Tiera took that as her cue to begin. “Why did you come to Earth if your parliament was just planning to destroy it anyway?”
“Well,” Daven began, looking back down at his hands, “the Humanists in Parliament are huge conservationists, and they wouldn’t approve the removal of the Milky Galaxy without some conditions. They would only approve if the galaxy was searched for any planets with potential for life. They wanted to make sure there wasn’t any life there—they didn’t want to destroy any life to save our own.” Daven looked up at Tiera again. “That’s where we came in. Of all of the planets with potential for life in your galaxy, Earth was one of the most promisin
g, so it was near the top of our list for exploration.”
“But that doesn’t make sense—Byrani said my galaxy is still going to be destroyed.” Tiera pinched her eyebrows together as she tried to figure out what she missed. “Why isn’t Parliament backing down now that it knows there’s life in the Milky Way—the Milky—Galaxy? If the issue is the galaxies colliding, why can’t everyone on Earth just do what I did? Why can’t they come here?”
“When we first discovered Earth they were headed in that direction. But then—what Yematoro said in his message . . . ” Daven looked outside the window behind Tiera. “Let’s just say they view any association with Earth as a major threat to galactic security.”
“But what if Kert’s just some whack job? Are they really willing to risk the lives of an entire planet on some vague terrorist threat?” Tiera was getting frustrated.
“The main arguments right now are about justifying the loss of one planet for the safety of eight, so—” Daven stopped talking when he saw the look on Tiera’s face. “I mean, there’s also the matter of Yematoro’s reputation. He was one of the brightest spacetime physicists of the past millennium! Countless people can vouch for his character, for his brilliance—and now for his potential for violence. That much knowledge in the wrong hands could prove catastrophic, and Parliament doesn’t take that lightly.”
“But Earth is a lost colony, isn’t it? Doesn’t that make Parliament responsible for the Earth’s welfare?”
“That hasn’t been confirmed yet, and—” Daven sighed. “And it probably won’t be confirmed until after.”
“After what?”
“After the removal of the Milky Galaxy.” Daven ran a hand over his fuzzy head and winced, probably in anticipation of what Tiera was about to say next.
“Why? That doesn’t make any sense.” Tiera didn’t try to hide her frustration any longer.
Daven looked downright afraid of Tiera at this point. “Well—and this is just my theory—if the people of Earth aren’t considered citizens of Origin, they don’t have any rights under our government. Declaring them citizens would definitely make the removal of your galaxy against the law.”
Tiera opened her mouth to respond, but the words didn’t come to her, so she just stared at Daven, brow furrowed and mouth agape. They don’t want to declare us citizens because they want our deaths to be legal?
When Tiera didn’t say anything, Daven just kept talking. “I know it sucks—it’s just politics. Resources are stretched pretty thin as it is, so it’ll be hard to change their minds. I’m sorry, Tiera. I thought you’d be upset when you found out; that’s why I hadn’t brought it up yet, but—”
“Who are you to decide what I should or shouldn’t know about my planet, Daven? Were you ever going to tell me? Did you think I’d just never look into it? That I’d forget about my entire life and that everything would just be peachy keen?” Tiera put her hands over her face and took deep breaths. Daven’s an idiot, but he means well. He means well he means well he means well.
“I—” Daven faltered, then continued in a much quieter voice, “I was going to tell you. I just—” Daven sighed. “I just wanted you to be happy here.”
Tiera peeked at Daven through her fingers, and he looked positively broken. A wedge of sympathy shoved itself into her anger, and while she wasn’t letting this go quite yet, she didn’t want to make Daven feel any worse. But she had one more thing to say.
“I’m moving in with Xana tonight.”
Daven’s head jerked up in an obvious sign of surprise. “But you’re not a student. How—?”
“The University of Humanities accepted me this morning. I’ll start classes on Monday.”
“Wha—uh—congratulations! That’s great!” Daven forced a smile, but Tiera could tell he was still just as gloomy as he was before. She didn’t smile back.
“Thanks. A few days ago you told me that the government covers everyone’s education and basic needs—does that include a bed? From the looks of Xana’s apartment I think I’ll need to bring my own.” Tiera sighed. “Or will they not provide me anything since I’m not technically a citizen?”
Daven looked uncomfortable. “Well, you were technically registered as a Faroan citizen when you left the police station, but . . . ” He trailed off when he saw Tiera’s tired expression. “It includes a bed, yeah. You may even be able to get them to deliver it tonight if you tell them it’s an emergency. You can get more than just a bed you know—kitchenware, towels, and the like count as basics too.” As he kept talking, Daven gradually began to sound like his old self.
“That’s good. And thanks, Daven. Not just for the info, but for letting me stay here while I got things sorted out.” Tiera wasn’t getting sentimental or anything, she just wanted to leave on good terms.
“No problem,” Daven said, and his small smile looked authentic this time. “I hope you’ll keep in touch.”
Well since you’re my guardian, I’m legally required to, Tiera thought, but she just said “Of course,” figuring it was the more polite response.
“Oh! And before I forget,” Daven stood up and ran downstairs, then picked up his jacket in the living room, “I stopped by the pharmacy to get your regulators.” Through the glass under the railing, Tiera saw him pull a small, rectangular container out of his jacket pocket, then he came back up and to the table. “We were supposed to get these after you got your immunizations and bloodwork done. Apparently they detected a hormonal imbalance or something.” Daven handed her the container of pills. “You take one at the same time every day.”
“Thanks,” Tiera said, pocketing the container. She didn’t really plan on using them though—she had tried anxiety meds when she was younger and they didn’t work very well for her.
“Once you update your address information on your smart glass you should authorize delivery on the pharmacy’s interface, otherwise you’ll have to pick them up every month,” Daven explained.
“Okay. Um. I’m going to go pack my clothes up.” Tiera stood up and started toward the bedroom she had been using.
“Alright! I’ll have someone pick them up and deliver them to Xana’s for you,” Daven said as he pulled out his smart glass.
“You don’t have to—I’ll just take them in a car.” Tiera felt awkward about Daven’s hospitality after she had practically just yelled at him.
“Don’t worry; I can afford it,” Daven said playfully as he began to walk toward the stairs.
I can’t argue with you there. Tiera headed to the bedroom and gathered her things, and before she knew it she was at Dawning Court Apartments, unpacking her clothes while an excited Xana hovered just outside her bedroom door.
Chapter 13
Tiera sat in the third row from the front of the sparsely populated lecture hall, waiting for her Parliament and the Legislative Process class to finish. For once she was glad that most students accessed the lecture from their homes—usually that meant she stood out more in class, but Tiera realized it also meant she could easily talk to Professor Rasen once he finished speaking. His current topic was what impact a new and controversial defense research facility might have on the inhabitants of southern Hyran, and Tiera was having a hard time understanding exactly what this had to do with either Parliament or the legislative process.
Yawning, Tiera checked the time on her smart glass, which she had expanded to the size of a tablet so she could easily type out her notes. Just 15 more minutes.
Her eyes wandered around the room for what felt like the hundredth time in the past half hour, scanning the heavy copper sculptures of the Origin hemispheres mounted high above their heads, tracing the contours of their unfamiliar continents with her eyes. After a while, she dropped her gaze to the holographic display of the planet Hyran that Professor Rasen had put up in the holo-box—a five-foot cubed box that Daven told her was filled with some sort of clear polymer that emitted light through electrical impulses blah blah blah science.
Tiera looked at her smart
glass again. Now just 12 more minutes.
“The dangers the Righters discussed have little weight, however,” Professor Rasen said, and his words began to register in Tiera’s mind again. “As you can see, the facility would be located here,” he rolled the globe so that it displayed Hyran’s southern hemisphere and pointed to a heavily forested area, “but the prison—as most of you know—is located here.” Professor Rasen’s eyes flitted just briefly in Tiera’s direction, but it was enough that she knew he was only showing the island on Hyran’s oceanic northern hemisphere for her benefit.
At least he’s subtle about it, Tiera thought, stifling a twinge of embarrassment. Her Interplanetary Relations professor, Dr. Chis, would often explain things to Tiera directly, which clearly annoyed the rest of the class. Students were actually glaring at her when Dr. Chis took the time to explain how the elite of Zura thrived off of the planet’s expansive horticulture industry. Apparently that was common knowledge.
When a chime finally signaled the end of the lecture, Tiera sidled her way across her row of cobalt seats and rushed down the steep risers toward where Professor Rasen still stood. Thankfully, she was the first to get there—she had to hurry so she wouldn’t be late to lunch with Daven.
“Professor Rasen? Do you have a moment?” Tiera’s words made her feel like she was doing an interview for a Tribune article again.
“Hello, Tiera. Do you have a question?” Professor Rasen’s wispy blond hair swayed as he turned to type something onto the side of the holo-box. The holographic model of Hyran vanished, and Professor Rasen turned again to face Tiera.
“Yes. Last week you mentioned that citizens on Origin can petition Parliament directly on one day every month, right?”
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