by C. B. Lee
“But he makes it so easy.” Sean grins at him. “And I’ve missed him so much.”
“And you came all the way from Clairborne to make fun of me? It’s not like you can’t visit more often,” Bells says.
His mother looks up from the car’s computer console and levels his brother with a steady gaze. “That’s true,” Collette says. “We’d love to see you more.”
Sean shrugs. “It’s hard work maintaining all of our crops and making sure they stay hidden.”
“Ah, so it is close! I know it’s within an hour’s drive,” Bells says, smirking.
The glances between his parents confirm that he’s right. “You know we can’t tell you where Clairborne is just yet. It’s not because we don’t think you’re responsible…” Collete trails off, patting his hand.
Bells bites down on the sarcastic comment on the tip of his tongue. It’s frustrating, being the only one in the family who doesn’t know.
“Reduce the risk, I know,” Bells says.
“That’s right, son,” Nick says, smiling.
With his family’s secret farms and the government’s ever-watchful eye on meta-humans, going to Meta-Human Training is a risk. Bells would have started working at Clairborne, the secret farm, as his older brothers did once they turned fifteen, but he signed up for training instead. He’s only worked on the “official” Broussard farm, two miles past the solar fields outside of town, where the Broussards maintain a respectable number of acres for produce that’s sold to the North American Collective. Bells is pretty sure he knows where most of their crops grow, though. He tried following his brother once, but he was caught immediately and sent home.
“It’s somewhere in the mountains, right? Come on, you can tell me. I know all about Grassroots.”
“That they’re terrible for eating?” Nick says loudly.
Bells rolls his eyes. He really doesn’t think the NAC has the car bugged, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. Grassroots, the underground farmers’ market the Broussards manage, is important to too many people.
He plucks an apple from Simon’s bag and munches it. They’re good this year, sweet and just a little tart.
“That’s one credit, bro.” Simon raises his eyebrows at Bells and grabs the fruit.
“Hey!” Bells scowls, folding his arms.
“They’re going for twenty creds a bag right now in New Bright City,” Sean says. “Can’t believe the Collective is giving us only five.”
It doesn’t make much sense to Bells either, but an official looking holodoc arrives every year with the standard market prices. The Collective’s laws forbid farmers from selling their produce locally; instead, every farmer is required to sell directly to the Collective, which resupplies the twenty-four regions of the country. By the time everything is shipped and re-shipped, the price for consumers doubles.
“Well, I don’t have any extra credits.” Bells grabs the apple back. He blew a huge chunk of his savings going shopping with Emma last week; they found an artist who hand-dyed shoes, and he just had to have these green and blue ones. That doesn’t mean he can’t have the apple now, though. Bells looks Simon in the eye and licks the fruit very deliberately, all over the skin. “Plus, I’m family.”
“Simon,” Collette warns, grabbing the bag of apples and putting it in her lap. “We’ve got plenty to sell at—”
Nick begins singing at the top of his lungs.
Collette ignores him. “—Grassroots after we drop your brother off.”
“So you’re meeting them in Vegas?” Bells asks, hoping to learn more.
Like the location of Clairborne, he doesn’t know how his family evades Collective laws to sell local produce at affordable prices. His parents are paranoid; the fewer people who know, the better. He’ll be trusted with the secret when he’s finished with Meta-Human Training and won’t be going to government facilities anymore. That was an offhand thing his dad said once, but it needles at him a bit: that they think Bells’ desire to be a superhero isn’t going to be… permanent; that he’ll just come back to work the family business.
Simon reaches across Bells to poke Sean. “Hey, are you still using a drip system? In one of my agro classes we were talking about…”
Watching the landscape pass by, Bells tunes out the farm talk and eats his apple. The bright oranges and reds of the desert are familiar, yet the terrain is strange. The world outside his little desert town was just an idea, and all the places he only knew in holobooks and movies never seemed quite real until he traveled outside Andover for Meta-Human Training.
They pass through a swath of solar fields shining in the afternoon sun, and Bells marvels at how many panels there are.
“It looks like a huge lake mirroring the blue sky,” Sean says, and Bells remembers his older brother has never seen him off for training, has never come this way.
Simon nods. “Neat, isn’t it? The Vegas solar fields generate power not only for their city, but for cities all over the Western regions of the Collective.”
Bells tunes them out to focus on the sparkle of the sunlight on the panels. How do cities that aren’t next to perpetually sunny areas get their energy? Bells has some understanding of other power sources—geothermal, tidal generators, wind, steam—but he hasn’t seen them. What will Aerial City be like? Is it really in the trees?
The single-lane highway passes old signs and new. A billboard that features Captain Orion smiling heroically down at them reminds them to drive safely.
“As if this is driving.” Collette watches the car’s computer panel tick down the estimated arrival time.
Nick pats her shoulder. “Calm down. We’ve already removed the car’s access to the Net; we’re not being logged.”
“I know, but I hate not controlling the car.” Collette frowns at the panel.
The discussion is an old one; the need to keep Grassroots and their organization secret is coupled with a strong distrust of the Collective and, in turn, the League. Like every year since Bells started Meta-Human Training, this year the League asked Bells to participate in the ongoing research and development the League conducts at the center. In fact, the League came close to insisting. Bells knows they’ve never had a shapeshifter to test and that with their help he could learn much more about the extent of his powers, but the idea made his parents uncomfortable because the League increased the pressure every year.
Las Vegas seems to happen all at once. Hotels, casinos, metal and chrome skyscrapers, and walkways spring up all around them like a spindly metal forest. Bells looks up and up and up at their height; it never fails to fascinate him— Is that building shaped like a castle?
The lights and facades of the hotels and casinos are bright and fanciful in every possible color, a constant distraction. There is indeed a castle, and a pyramid, and a replica of the Eiffel Tower: love letters to places only the absurdly rich can go. Apparently, people used to fly internationally, when fossil fuel engines were still prominent. It’s very rare for people to travel outside the Collective as boat travel is incredibly expensive. These replicas of places abroad might be the only chance to be an international tourist.
The car slows to a stop in the middle of the street. “You have arrived at your destination,” the cool computer voice says.
“No, this is not our destination.” Nick flicks furiously at the car’s computer panel and brings up the keyboard.
They’re definitely not at the train station. The car behind them honks angrily. People stare.
“Come on, fix it!” Nick says as Collette tries to reprogram.
Finally, the car whirs to life and drives them to the train station. It’s bustling with noise and people and luggage.
Walking through the station, Bells trips a few times over his own two feet and bumps into Simon and Sean more than once as they bicker over who gets to carry Bells’ bag. At the platform, peo
ple are saying goodbye to their loved ones.
“Final boarding for northbound from Las Vegas, stopping at Middleton, Redwood County, and Aerial City,” the automated voice announces.
Gleaming silver, the hovertrain is larger than life.
Air rushes from the bottom of the train, and it hovers above the magnetic track, ready for hi-speed travel. Bells knows it’s just maglev tech, but somehow, the way the train floats effortlessly always seems magical.
“Final boarding!”
A high, sharp whistle blows.
Bells glances around the busy hub. Most of the other passengers have already boarded, leaving only a few well-wishers on the platform. He turns to his parents.
“We’re so proud of you,” Nick and Collette chorus.
“It’s your last year, right?” Nick asks.
“I don’t know for sure, but I think I can finish this year,” Bells says. He stands a little taller, certain that he’ll be doing actual missions for the League before the year is out.
“Your DED is fully charged? You’ll call us when you get there?” Nick asks, his brow furrowed.
“Yes, Dad.”
It finally registers that he’s going to be away for the whole summer. He tries to memorize his mother’s soft and serene smile, the severity of his father’s eyebrows, the way his mother towers over his father. Dad will be the shortest in the family soon, but for now, Bells and his dad are eye-to-eye.
Simon ruffles his hair, and Bells scowls, but he doesn’t really mind. He gently tucks his hair back into place, and, on a whim, changes it from blue to purple, which earns him a shoulder bump from his older brother.
“Watch it, we’re in public!” Simon hisses.
“No one saw,” Bells says. Everyone on the platform is too busy saying hellos and goodbyes.
He takes in his family: his brothers’ height; the way Sean leans on Simon; his parents’ watery eyes. At the sight of everyone beaming at him, his heart catches.
“Well, come here,” Nick says, opening his arms.
Bells swallows the lump in his throat. He walks into the group hug and inhales the scent of basil and mint that always follows his mother, the cinnamon-apple scent of Sean, and Simon’s spicy hair gel. Their arms wrap around him like a protective cocoon.
“Call the minute you’re in New Vancouver,” Nick says.
Bells hushes him. “You don’t know the training center is in New Vancouver. No one knows that.”
“Right. Well, I’m pretty sure it is. I narrowed it down to all the possible places that the—” He glances around before dropping his voice to a whisper. “Look, there are only so many places outside of Aerial City, and because they need so much room in a Class 1 area, there’s only—”
Bells laughs and breaks free of the hug. “I’ll call you guys every day.”
“Yeah! Show ’em who’s boss!” Simon pumps his fist into the air.
A nearby couple and their toddler eye the Broussards warily.
“Soccer camp,” Sean says to them, winking.
“And call me if you can’t handle the T-shot by yourself,” Nick reminds him.
Bells flushes. “Da-ad, I’ve got this.”
He’s a bit squeamish with needles so his dad has been helping him with his monthly hormone shots ever since he started them. The last two years, he switched to the patch for the ten-week training session, but this year he didn’t have time to order them. Bells will have to administer at least two shots. He practiced last night and has it handled, though. He definitely doesn’t want his dad coming to Aerial City to help him.
“Okay, kiddo,” Nick says.
Simon and Sean squish Bells between them in a tight hug, then lift him up in the air the way they used to when he was a kid.
“Losers, put me down!”
“No way, Baby-Bells!” Simon gives him a particularly tight squeeze, and Sean does the same, until Bells is laughing. It’s been a long time since they were all together like this; he’s missed it.
“Not a baby,” Bells protests.
“Let us know when you’re a big hero,” Sean says as they set Bells down. “I’ll buy all your comic books.”
“Shut up.” Bells shakes his head in amusement.
“Here, take a snack for the train.” Simon puts another ripe apple into Bells’ pocket.
Bells shoves playfully at Simon’s shoulders before straightening his clothes. He gives his parents one last hug goodbye and gets on the train.
Bells finds a window seat and watches the oranges and reds of the desert as they speed by. He can barely grasp how big this country is, how much land exists outside the populated regions in the swaths of Unmaintained zones too close to the original meltdown points for habitation.
The X29 flare not only knocked out the entire global power systems, but also caused many nuclear power stations to fail. The Nevada region was lucky; the nearest nuclear meltdown zone was in California. But several meltdown points dotted the East Coast. Las Vegas was one of the few cities untouched by radiation, and people flocked to the city and its desert counterparts. Some cities, like Nuevo Los Angeles, were rebuilt after the Disasters where the original city once stood, and others, like New Bright City, were redesigned with the future in mind.
The desert gives way to mountains and then lush, tall trees. He pulls out his sketchpad and tries to capture the shifting landscapes.
Most of the other travelers get off the train at the Middleton stop, and Bells is left alone in his compartment. Only two more hours to go.
He falls asleep in the soft glow of comforting holos on his DED and wakes up groggy. He looks out the window and then sends Emma and Jess pictures of the forests and mountains, expanses of green, and blue, blue skies.
Jess responds with a series of amazed emojis. Bells laughs as they float above his wrist and then checks the time; Emma must be at volleyball practice.
He wishes he could tell Emma and Jess about his powers, how excited he was when he first discovered he could change himself, and how hard it was to hold the shift at first. But he can’t tell them, neither about his struggles, nor about his triumphs.
He’s been going to the program since he was twelve. He likes the camaraderie of the classes; he likes catching up with Christine and the twins summer after summer. He wonders whom he will see back at training. Last session, there were about twenty students: some teenagers and some in their twenties. Having realized they will never be chosen for the Heroes’ League of Heroes, most of the older students move on. Last summer, no one from the summer session was selected for the League, and only two students from the other training sessions were accepted into the Associated League. That’s a record low for new heroes. Almost everyone knows their likenesses won’t be on cereal boxes anytime soon… or ever.
Some meta-humans finish the program and no one knows for sure what happens to them, but some people with powers must become villains.
Bells shudders, thinking of Dynamite and his latest face off with Captain Orion in New Bright City. It was nearly the sort of disaster the country hadn’t seen since WWIII: Dynamite planned to set off a bomb with his pyrotechnics, but Captain Orion confronted him before he could. The battle was brutal, but she won in the end, and Dynamite was cuffed in ability-dampening tantalum and sent to Meta-Human Corrections. Captain Orion was so brave, saving all those people. Bells wants to stop crime, just like Orion does.
Bells brings up the official message from his advisors.
We are pleased to welcome you back to Meta-Human Training. After seeing your progress, we are considering you for the Heroes’ League of Heroes…
Bells will be a hero; he knows it—the first hero since Powerstorm to join the League, young and brave and powerful. People will cheer for him, and there will be comic books and everything.
His daydream is interrupted at the next stop in Redwood Count
y when a nervous-looking kid with a backpack and paintbrushes crammed into his front pocket slides into the seat across from him. He barely looks twelve years old, but that doesn’t surprise Bells. It’s easy to navigate all public transportation in the Collective. Bells started using buses and trains by himself when he was younger than this guy.
“Um, excuse me, is this… is this train going to Aerial City?”
“Yeah,” Bells says.
“Oh, good.” The boy slumps into the seat. “I’ve never taken the hovertrain, and this is the first time I’ve been out of Redwood County by myself.” He beams at Bells. “Hi, I’m Derek. I’m going to art camp.”
Bells chuckles. He made sure there were art programs that existed in Aerial City before he made his excuse to his friends, but he was so wrapped up in the excitement of Meta-Human Training that he forgot that art camp was a real thing. “Bells,” he offers.
“Cool name!”
“Thanks, I picked it out myself,” Bells says, grinning.
* * *
He remembers the day clearly; it was his first day at Little Muffins Pre-School. He was five years old, and his parents were more nervous than he was. Ma kissed him on the forehead, and Dad told him that, if he wasn’t having fun anymore, they could come pick him up.
He laughed at them. He’d been ready ever since Simon and Sean started school and came home with stories.
He was late today because of traffic, but he was very excited and nervous. He liked to draw and brought a new set of color pencils, though most people just use the colors on their DED. He liked drawing on his DED, too, but he loved the way things look on paper.
“Oh! Hello, there. You’re just in time for art! What’s your name, sweetheart?”
He didn’t say anything, just looked nervously at his feet and tugged on the edges of Simon’s jacket. It was a cool jacket, the kind that Starscream wore, and he’d begged Simon for forever to let him wear it, and finally his brother just gave it to him. He thought he looked very cool.