by Trisha Leigh
“Blocked our conversation with a noise-canceling feature I set up for our room.”
I thought back to the other night when she and Oz were arguing, wondering if the contraption she’d set up didn’t work or she hadn’t bothered to use it.
The latter seemed more likely, because the majority of devices and workarounds Sarah created worked better than expected.
“Why?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because the Elders could be listening to our conversations, Kaia. Obviously. Do you seriously think they’re not worried that we’re still…I don’t know, whatever you were doing last semester?”
It hurt that she chose to phrase it that way, as if she’d ceased to believe that anything Oz and I had uncovered was important. Sarah knew better than most what we found, and what it had already cost us, but there was no point in arguing with her.
Not when we needed her help.
Besides, if she’d taken the time to put the noise-canceling software into effect then she knew we would need it—all of us. She just wasn’t ready to admit it.
“We’re good now?” I watched until she nodded, wearing a sour expression at her skills being questioned. Presumably. “I wanted to ask your thoughts about Yumi.”
The question surprised her, which was my intention. Caught off guard, Sarah didn’t have a snarky, planned response. I needed honesty.
“What? Why? I thought this was about Analeigh.”
“Just humor me. I want to know about Yumi, first. What do you know about her?”
“The same things you know about her, Kaia.” Exasperation oozed from my roommate’s tone. “We’ve both always liked her. She’s quiet, but sweet.”
I gritted my teeth to stop from agreeing with her, from letting it go. “What specifically. Like…who are her parents? Have we met them? What about her paternal founder?”
Paternal founders were among the first topics we talked about when we’d arrived at ten years old. A source of pride for everyone, we were all eager to talk about the places our illustrious family lines began in history. For me, being able to trace it all the way back to the first century was a coup among pretty much any group.
Sarah opened her mouth to snap a response but nothing came out. I watched as confusion littered her gaze, followed by the tiniest bit of fear. “I know her parents’ names but nothing about them. I can’t even picture them, but they must have been here for visits. Right? What…what’s wrong?”
Excitement trickled down my spine. It wasn’t only Oz and me who couldn’t recall details about Yumi, which meant our theory was gaining credence. For once, Sarah’s face didn’t darken like thunderclouds as I moved closer to her, my heart rate kicking up a notch.
“I think…” I took a deep breath and decided to jump straight into the deep end. Oz was an essential part of this whole thing, and now was as good a time as any to face the music. “Oz and I both think that it’s because we don’t have any real memories of her. That she appeared recently, like the Elders said might happen.”
The suggestion was so new, so off-the-wall, she didn’t even seem to register that Oz and I had discussed this already without her. Her blue eyes were wide, her lips moving in silent thought, before she focused again on me. “How?”
“That’s what we need your help with—to get into the Archives to find out. Oz figured that if we could look back at recordings from before Analeigh left—”
“Got thrown under the bus.”
I flinched at the accusation in her voice. “Anyway, we could see if Yumi is in any of them. Also, I’m going to talk to her and see if I can find out anything about her paternal founders. If we trace them back, maybe we can figure out what changed to put her here.”
Sarah paused again, then cocked her head to one side. “You think that the Elders have changed something in the past, and that’s what’s not only causing people to disappear from the Archives, but it’s made it so Yumi’s family made it onto a refugee ship.”
“Yes.” I nodded.
“But Elder Bohr only said they thought it was possible, not that appearances for sure happened, though,” she pointed out.
“I know, but do you really think they would tell us something like that, even if they were sure? They’re trying to keep us calm and from asking too many questions, or from trying to find people instead of paying attention to our studies.”
“True.” She chewed on her lower lip, more and more fear crowding her gaze. “Well, you and Oz have to stay clear of typing anything into the comps that’s not lesson-related, that’s for sure. And me…I doubt I can just waltz in and pull up anything I want without raising eyebrows, either.”
She was too close to both of us, and to Analeigh, even after everything that happened. Not to mention she rigged Jonah’s cuff so that he could save his True, and fixed my wrist tat so I could travel in the past and pass through the Academy without registering. The Elders reprimanded her with the same punishment as mine, so she was most likely right about them keeping an eye on her.
“So what do we do?” I asked, so grateful to be able to pose the question to her. To anyone, maybe, but especially to her.
“The best thing would be if we could recruit another person, someone they still trust, to search things for us, but I don’t think any of us want to involve more people at this point. Enough of us have gotten hurt.” Her lip quivered, and I knew she was thinking of Analeigh.
My heart broke at the knowledge that we could have been shouldering this pain together all of this time. Could have been talking about Analeigh, about our feelings, and leaning on each other through the worst of it.
But we hadn’t, because of Oz and that stupid card.
I thought about what she’d suggested for a second, wondering whether Levi or Yumi might volunteer to help if we let them in on what was at stake, but dismissed the idea just as quickly.
“No. It’s the three of us, and that’s it.” I swallowed hard, trying to dispel the lump in my throat. “Can you figure it out?”
Her forehead wrinkled in concentration for a few moments before she shrugged. “I mean, it shouldn’t be that hard to hack into the system and just swap the code from your wrist tat to, say, Jessica’s. Or even one of the kids in the class below us, if you think that would be less suspicious.”
“So we could access the table comps and the Archives as someone else.” I bit my lip harder, remembering last semester and how the Elders had flagged certain files that had to do with the Return Project. “What if files are flagged like before—but ones with Analeigh in them this time?”
She frowned. “They could be, but that would be a lot of files. If they’re flagging anything, I would guess it’s probably the same files as last year. And maybe anything to do with the people who disappeared…or appeared, if they know who they are.”
“So Yumi’s files could be flagged.” Now my lips tugged down in a frown. That would put a serious cramp in our ability to use the holofiles to prove our theory.
“If they’re aware that she’s new. If she’s new.” Frustration oozed from Sarah’s voice. “But maybe it wouldn’t be as much of an eyebrow-raiser if she was researching her family. That’s an option.”
“We use her login info.” I thought again about asking her to help, but it seemed like telling someone they’re not supposed to exist would open an unnecessary can of worms.
It made me uncomfortable to think about it, even now that I knew we hadn’t really been friends my entire life. If she’d appeared because of a change, what would happen to her if it changed back?
I swallowed, and pushed the worry from my mind. We needed to take this one step at a time—no sense in freaking out now about an outcome that may never come to pass.
“I’m going to think about it in the shower and then get to work.” Sarah climbed out of her chair with her tablet still clutched in her hand. “But how does this help us get Analeigh back?”
“The only way that’s going to happen is if we can figure out exactly what th
e Elders are doing and go to the Council with proof. Information about a girl whose entire family appeared out of nowhere would be a pretty good start, don’t you think?”
She nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. Our gazes never met, no matter how long I stared at her face, and then her back as she retreated into the bathroom and shut the door. The message couldn’t have been clearer—we may have been communicating, but only as far as it helped Analeigh. Otherwise, nothing had changed.
I swapped my day clothes for my pajamas and crawled under the covers without waiting for my turn to use the restroom. Fatigue lumbered through my veins, deadening my muscles and making the pillow feel like it was made of clouds instead of industrial material manufactured on Roma.
A tear rolled down my cheek and plopped on the pillow before I even realized I was crying. For once, it wasn’t about Analeigh or Caesarion. It was the gaping hole right in front of my face—the space Sarah should occupy but no longer wanted to.
I might have earned her cooperation tonight, but in that moment, I missed her friendship like one of my own arms.
Oz and I hadn’t spoken again except for a brief exchange when I informed him that Sarah was in to help. Despite the strange, all-Historian meeting the other day, life at the Academy had continued at a frustrating status-quo. As my frustration rose and rose with no way to help move things forward as far as Sarah’s research, I decided to do the one thing I could think of to do—actually get to know a few things about Yumi Phan.
She loved exercising and usually spent an hour in the facilities running before breakfast, then another hour in the afternoon using the game simulator to engage in a soccer match. We didn’t have competitive sports on Genesis but the Academies had machines that simulated games in order to both teach us history and allow us the ability to get into shape in a fun way—without actually encouraging any competition between contemporaries.
I’d used them a few times to play tennis with some of the greats from Earth Before. It was fun, but sports weren’t so much my thing, anyway.
Getting up over an hour before my wrist tat usually woke me was a serious sacrifice. Or, it would have been for old Kaia. New Kaia couldn’t sleep very well, anyway.
The halls were empty as I made my way through them, my slippered feet quiet in the cold spaces. It took about ten minutes to get to the gymnasium, and when I pushed open the door, a pretty big surprise halted my hurried steps.
“Levi,” I said, my eyes wide. If I hated getting up in the mornings, Levi’s aversion was legendary. As far as I knew, the only times he’d ever been sanctioned in our seven years at the Historian Academy was for missing trips that started before eight a.m. “You’re awake.”
His cheeks colored as he darted a quick look toward Yumi, who was stretching on the mat beside him. The toe of her right foot touched his thigh as she leaned over, her nose nearly touching her knee, and she didn’t look up to say hi right away.
“Yeah, um. I thought I should work on getting into shape and Yumi said she comes every morning, so I…I’m here.”
When she straightened up to switch legs and our eyes met, her dark gaze matched the busted expression on his face. I knew the two of them had been getting closer, but the shared blushes suggested that something more than friendship was going on.
It was cute. Or, it should have been. Would have been before Oz put forth his theory on why we were all struggling to remember our pasts with Yumi. Now, their budding romance only hit me square in my rising anxiety over what would happen if we found out it was true.
“Yeah, me, too,” I said, folding my legs and sitting on the mat with them to loosen up my tired muscles. It felt good, I had to admit, and spent a few minutes with my own nose buried in my knees.
When we all stood up and started around the track in a slow jog, my brain woke up and began to work on the best way to get to know someone who thought I already knew her.
“I’m having a hard time sleeping ever since the meeting the other day,” I commented, focusing on taking deep breaths. Perhaps the real challenge of this plan would turn out to be hanging onto enough oxygen to talk and run at the same time. “It’s crazy.”
Yumi nodded, her gaze forward and full of concentration as her feet hit the track in a steady rhythm. “Definitely crazy. I mean, how would something so significant change unless a Historian changed it? Do you think someone else has access to the past?”
“Maybe it was a mistake,” Levi offered, huffing and puffing worse than me. It was double-adorable that he tortured himself just to spend an hour with Yumi this morning. “Like, maybe one of the apprentices or someone else messed with something and didn’t realize the impact, or didn’t tell anyone.”
“It seems like it would have had to be something pretty big,” I said, feeling dubious. Feeling sure that the Return Project was behind this somehow.
“Maybe not,” Yumi argued. “They’ve always told us that the smallest change could have outcomes that were impossible to predict.”
Maybe not so impossible with their Projector, though it obviously didn’t work perfectly. Or even all that well.
But when I pushed that thought aside, I saw my opening.
“My grandfather wouldn’t know what to make of it, that’s for sure.”
“I know what you mean,” Yumi said after a short pause. “My grandmother wasn’t a founder like yours, but she would have been horrified at the idea of anyone breaking the rules that keep us alive here.”
“Tell me more about her,” I requested, trying to sound casual. “I don’t think you ever have.”
It was a gamble. Of course she hadn’t told me anything about her grandmother, presumably the family member who won them passage on the refugee ship, but that didn’t mean she didn’t have memories of sharing the information.
“She lived in Hiroshima, Japan, and she was a climate scientist.” Yumi’s smile turned soft. “Of course, that line of work had been hopeless on Earth Before for years before we left, but she kept fighting. Her research of sustainable energy and alternative food sources was one of the reasons we were chosen.”
“She sounds smart,” Levi commented, his cheeks red again. “You must have gotten that from her.”
“Stop!” Yumi grinned. “We’re all smart. Though I think she and my parents were pretty surprised when I ended up here instead of Agriculture or Biology.”
“Did you think about it?” I asked.
She shrugged and pushed her pace faster. “Sure. I liked science growing up but the aptitude test sorted me here, and here I am. Like all of us.”
The way she finished the statement had me pressing my lips together. It was the insinuation that we were all where we belonged, and if I was being honest with myself, there was nothing in my gut that said Yumi was different. In my head, sure. Those memories and connections were still hard to track down—still not right.
But when I ran alongside her, watching her flirt with Levi and talk about her grandmother’s accomplishments, she seemed like one of us.
Was it possible for her to be that, but also be someone who hadn’t always been that?
Those troubling thoughts, tumbling around in my head, distracted me from the pain of finishing out the second mile of Yumi’s run before she slowed us to a jog, then a walk, then stopped altogether to do some final stretching. The alarm on my wrist tat said breakfast was in twenty minutes, which didn’t give us much time to shower and get there—especially since she and I only had one shower.
We left Levi at his door and then walked, shoulder to shoulder, to ours. She chatted about how it would be fun to get more people to work out with us in the morning and about the trip to Ireland she’d just taken, and my heart started to hurt.
When Oz had first mentioned the prospect of Yumi appearing recently, I had been excited to have an avenue to explore. To try to figure out what had changed that allowed her grandmother onto that ship and trace it backward to the Elders’ work in the past.
But Yumi wasn’t some cardboard cu
tout of a human being, propped up by changes that could be easily undone once we figured out what they were. She was a real person. She had a sense of humor and passion and a crush on Levi and a shy smile that made me think we might really be able to be friends.
What would happen to her if we did find out what had changed, and if we reported it? Would the Genesis Council change it back? Would we?
If so, did that make us murderers when it came to people like Yumi and her family?
We reached our room and burst through the door, surprising Sarah, who was bent over her tablet in the same position she’d been in when I’d gone to bed last night. Her gaze was muddled in thought as she looked up at the two of us together, registering the slightest surprise before going back to her work without so much as a hello.
Yumi gave me a sympathetic look and a short squeeze around the shoulders. “You can take your shower first, if you want.”
“Thanks.” I almost refused, but needed to get away from them both before I burst into frustrated tears over how confusing our lives had gotten.
It would also give me time to think about consequences—not only of the actions the Elders had already taken in the past, but of what we might be asked to do if we managed to uncover the truth.
The water rushed over my shoulders and down my back, feeling more like lead than anything else. Nothing was light anymore, not in the face of these responsibilities I never asked for. Didn’t want.
I thought about Caesarion, about how he was born into a world that expected him to be the best version of himself, required him to give everything, and the grace with which he shouldered it all.
And I wished, more than ever, that he could somehow be there to tell me what to do.
Chapter Six
It seemed like forever, but in reality less than a week passed before Sarah turned on the noise-canceling device again and said she’d figured out how to trick the tech into swapping the codes from our wrist tats with others at the Academy.
When she flipped it on the following afternoon after our debrief session with Booth, I registered as a girl named Hannah in the year below us, Oz was Yumi, and Sarah should show up in the system as a guy in a class two years younger named Kellen. If it worked.