“Thank you. May we gain strength from the sowing, resilience from the reaping, and hope from the harvest.”
I flash a smile and turn away from the podium as the packed audience erupts in applause. A stupid grin spreads across my face, and I take a deep breath. My knees are shaking like they always do after I speak to a large crowd, and I wobble back to my chair and take my place next to Moriana Nair. She squeezes my hand and grins at me, her big brown eyes wide and excited, mouthing the words, We did it!
The head of the Academy takes the podium and begins thanking me for my remarks and reiterating how much the Sector is depending on us. He sounds like he’s speaking from the inside of a tunnel, and I just give the crowd my practiced Orleán smile and try to breathe normally. When he returns to his own seat on the stage, my father, the chancellor of the Sector, rises and leads everyone in the Sector anthem.
Finally, the welcoming ceremony for the graduating students of the Academy begins—Moriana and I went through this ceremony two years ago when we graduated from the Academy. It’s an old ceremony, treasured and well-loved. My mother, as head of the Okarian Agricultural Consortium, holds a bowl of seeds at my father’s side. He then scoops out a handful from the bowl and, with a broad smile on his face, tosses them out onto the first row of Academy students. A cheer starts up through the audience as family members and friends join in to shower the graduating students with seeds. It’s a celebration of the fact the Famine Years are past and the Sector promises a future of plenty.
“Congratulations!” My father loves Graduation Day, and I can see the twinkle in his eyes as he gazes out across the rows of graduates and family members. The boom of erupting fireworks announces the end of the ceremony, and brilliant colors paint the sky above. Our classmates jump to their feet, hugging each other and their proud parents, offers of congratulations being thrown as plentifully as the seeds. Out of the corner of my eye I see my friend Jeremiah Sayyid signaling to me and Moriana to hurry. It’s party time. But there’s no way I can get off the stage as long as the cameras are still rolling. I give Moriana a quick hug and then join my parents as politicians, professors, and OAC board members fall over themselves to congratulate me. I shake hands, pose for photos, and play the political game, just like I’ve had to do my whole life.
I turn to see my father shaking hands with General Aulion, my soon-to-be supervisor at the Seed Bank Protection Project. He has a creased face, stark black hair, and a wicked scar across his jawline. He is not easily forgotten. Over the past year, Aulion has been personally in charge of my military training as I prepared to move away from my physics research and into a military career. In the entire year I’ve known him, I’ve seen him crack a smile exactly one time, and that was when he was watching me struggle futilely to finish a set of chin-ups.
Instead of congratulating me like everyone else, Aulion eyes me, his hands behind his back. “You’re expected at the office at 07h00 tomorrow, Lieutenant Orleán.” That’s the first time anyone has addressed me by my new military rank.
“He’ll be there, General,” my mother pipes up from my side. “But for tonight, let’s let him celebrate.”
“If he’s not there at 07h00 tomorrow morning, General, you can send him to the chancellor’s office,” my father says, grinning. “I’ll be happy to take care of him.” Dad’s always had my back.
Speaking more quietly, my mother turns to Aulion. “While I escort my son to the festivities, perhaps you’ll update the chancellor on the troubling situation at the Farms.”
Aulion’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly even as my father’s widen. This news is obviously a surprise to him. I know for a fact he hasn’t had his security briefing yet this morning because he took me out to breakfast so I could practice my speech with him. And it’s clear Aulion is none too happy that my mother is getting her information from someone under his command.
“Of course,” Aulion says, nodding curtly in her direction. “I would be happy to update the chancellor.” His taut lips and tense voice tell me he’s anything but happy to deliver the bad news.
I take my mother’s arm in mine and leave Aulion to my father. “Thanks for the save—but what’s going on at the Farms?”
My mother smiles wryly up at me. “Unfortunately, Vale, until tomorrow morning, you don’t have the security clearance necessary for me to tell you.” I laugh.
“Perfect. I won’t have to worry about it until then.”
We’re at the door to the student lounge and I can hear the voices of my classmates inside. My mother stops and takes my hands in hers. “I cannot tell you how proud we are. Now, you go have a good time tonight. And tell Moriana not to stay out too late, either. I’m looking forward to having her join my lab team tomorrow.”
I give Mom a hug. “She’s excited to be working with you.”
“I’m delighted to have her. She’s got a bright future.” She pauses and picks an imaginary piece of lint off my sleeve. I look down at her, and I can’t help but notice tears glistening in her eyes. She stretches up on tiptoe to give me a kiss, and as she brushes my face I can feel the tears on her cheeks. “Go have fun. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She turns and heads back in the direction we came.
Finally I can stop being Valerian Augustus Orleán and start being Vale again. I open the door to the lounge and a geyser of wet foam splashes my face.
“Jeremiah, you shit, you’re going to pay for that!” I wipe sparkling wine out of my eyes with my sleeve.
There are perhaps thirty students milling around, some from the Academy and some from the SRI, and every one of them is laughing as I cough and sputter. It’s not often I’m the victim of practical jokes—though it has become much more frequent since Jeremiah and I became friends. I find his bearded face through the bubbles still dripping from my eyelashes.
I take a crystal flute from his hands.
“Apparently this is the Sector’s finest old bubbly, and don’t bother asking how I commandeered several bottles just for us. State secrets.” He pulls out a chair, stands up on it—not that he needs the height boost, he already towers over everyone in the room—and clears his throat. “Attention, everybody.” He raises his glass. “I hereby propose a toast to my best friend—the pride, the joy, the savior and radiant light of the whole Sector.”
“To the harvest!” everyone toasts as they drain their glasses.
“Miah, has anyone ever told you you’re an asshole?”
“Never,” he says. “You’re the first.”
I reach for the magnum of wine just as he grabs it. “Whoa, whoa, Vale. I am the arbiter of all things fun today. I would be nice to me if I were you.”
“Arbiter of fun, huh?”
“Indeed, my friend. Which is why I am taking it upon myself to ensure that you have no shortage of beautiful girls for the evening.”
“I’m not that hard up. I could get a date if I wanted.”
“A date? You could get any date in the entire Sector if you wanted.”
“Vale has a date?” Moriana comes up behind me and gives me a big hug. I embrace her and she kisses me on the cheek. Moriana and Jeremiah are always mocking me for my lack of interest in dating. It’s not that I’m uninterested; I’m just not always as outgoing and talkative as they are. And it doesn’t help that even three years later, I can’t get Remy Alexander out of my head.
“No, that’s the problem,” Miah says, handing Moriana a glass. She grabs his bearded chin and pulls him down to her height for a quick kiss. “He doesn’t have a date. Which is why I’m taking it upon myself to ensure he doesn’t sit in a corner all night.”
Moriana turns to me and pokes her finger in my chest. “Miah’s right. You should find a lady, Vale. My cousin will be there tonight—”
“See?” Miah laughs, interrupting Moriana. “We’ll be surrounded by brilliance and beauty all night long.”
“—And she’s been looking forward to seeing you again,” Moriana finishes, glaring at Jeremiah.
“Stop playing matchmaker and pour me another glass of wine,” I say.
Suddenly I feel the slightest pressure on my arm. The hair stands up on the back of my neck, and I know who it is before I even turn. When I do, I find a wave of silken blond hair and the bluest eyes in the Sector. Linnea Heilmann, who is almost as tall as me, stands at my shoulder, an inviting smile playing around her mouth. She wears a sleek, shimmering pearl-colored dress that trails down to her feet, with a very noticeable slit that trails right back up to her thigh. She is as sharp and beautiful as a blade. My mother has been not-so-subtly encouraging me to start going out with her. “She’s so talented, Vale. You’d make such a great pair! And you have so much in common.” What I have in common with Linnea could fit in a buckyball.
“Congratulations, Vale,” Linnea says with a gentle smile. “You did a great job out there. I’m sure all the citizens of the Okarian Sector were impressed. I know I was.”
“Oh, hey, Linnea,” Miah says with a barely concealed sneer. “I thought only students were allowed back here.” Jeremiah hates Linnea. He thinks she’s just about the worst thing that ever happened to the Sector. He’s always going on about how she treats the workers on the Farms like second-class citizens, even though the Farm workers are among the most important citizens of the Sector. Working on the Farms is considered a great honor, and almost everyone who begins a term on the Farms decides to stay. I flash Miah a glare that says very clearly: Cut it out. We don’t need to get on Linnea’s bad side.
“Thanks, Linnea,” I say hesitantly, not sure how to walk the line here. “As always, you look nice.” That’s the best compliment I can muster. She seems satisfied, though, because she smiles at me, flashing perfect teeth and full lips painted in luscious plum.
I ignore the look Miah gives me and turn away as Moriana scowls and mouths my cousin like it’s a command. I let my eyes linger on Linnea’s and then drag them down over every curve and shadow, all the way down to her high heels and painted plum toenails and back up again. I start to speak, but my throat is dry, and I find that even if I really wanted to, I couldn’t put the words together to invite her along. Despite her best efforts—and my mother’s—Linnea isn’t my type.
Her eyes cloud as if she realizes what just went through my mind. She leans in and whispers, “Come find me later, Vale. I’ll wait for you.” She lets her fingertips trail off my shoulder as she turns elegantly and walks off.
Miah hits me in the arm so hard I almost drop my glass. “Vale, if you so much as consider going out with her, I’ll—”
“That girl is climbing the power ladder,” Moriana says, interrupting what would surely have been a diatribe, “and you are just a few rungs from the top.” She tilts back her glass and downs it in an uncharacteristic display of enthusiasm. She’s usually so calm and modest that even Jeremiah looks surprised. “Come on, you guys, forget about Linnea. Tonight’s our last night of freedom before we start work. Let’s go have fun!” She grabs each of us by the hand and hauls us off towards the door.
Outside, six or seven girls are waiting at the airship deck, smiling eagerly at me as we approach.
“A gift from me to you,” Jeremiah says to me, smirking. I recognize a few of them as acquaintances of Jeremiah’s from the SRI’s engineering division and assume he brought them along in the hopes of getting me to go out with at least one of them.
It turns out Jeremiah has worked even more of his magic for the evening. My father’s personal airship waits for us, gleaming and sleek.
“It’s pre-programmed to take us to the club and then home afterwards,” Jeremiah says with a wink, “but your father was all too happy to donate it to my cause this evening.”
I’m speechless. My father never lets me take his airship. My dad’s been fond of Jeremiah since they discovered a shared interest in flight engineering, which drives my mother crazy—she thinks Jeremiah lacks motivation.
Once we’re all in, Jeremiah pulls out another bottle of wine and we toast to our futures as we blast the music and sing all the way across town to the club.
At the club, we smoke our Dietician-approved cannabis doses and relax into the swing of the evening, talking about the ceremony and what’s to come. Jeremiah has to ask the club managers to keep the photographers and reporters out of the party so we can relax away from the scrutiny of the rest of the Sector. The aromatic haze of incense and smoke blends with sweat and perfume, and I sink deep into the pleasure of my last night as a student. We take off our shoes to dance on the mossy rooftop veranda, and Moriana makes sure I have a steady supply of dance partners, especially her cousin. The cannabis and alcohol help me forget that 07h00 and General Aulion loom closer with every passing minute. I keep my friends close, even doing a turn around the dance floor with Miah until Moriana mercifully cuts in and rescues us from ourselves. I want to hold onto every moment, every song, every laugh, because I know that tomorrow, everything changes. Once or twice, Moriana catches my eye, and I know that even though she’s clinging to Jeremiah’s arm, she misses them, too. The ones who left.
Several hours later, the party is winding down, and most everyone else has already gone home or on to other parties. I plop down at our now-empty table, my head reeling from the fullness of the evening. It was almost perfect. I lean back against the wall and close my eyes. In the background, the performers play a final ballad and the lights dim slightly. In the alcohol-and fatigue-induced haze, Remy Alexander’s face swims up before my eyes. I see her copper skin, her round hazel eyes, her flush lips and brown curls—fifteen-year-old Remy Alexander, the last time I saw her. The last time any of us saw her. She’s eighteen now, of course … I wonder what she looks like, if she still has that silly giggle, the glint in her eyes like when she was teasing me. Or did her sister’s death tear that happiness from her?
I start as Moriana appears out of nowhere. She looks lovely with her long dark reddish brown hair framing her freckled cheekbones and tired green eyes. Her silky black dress rustles and dances around her as she pulls up a chair and sits at my side.
“I miss them, too, Vale,” she says, somehow reading my thoughts.
“I know,” I say after a minute. “I just don’t know why they left. They had everything. Why throw that away? It doesn’t make sense.”
“It’s time to move on. Tomorrow you start your new job and a whole new set of opportunities will open up for you, for both of us. It’s what we always dreamed of.”
“I know it’s stupid, but sometimes I can’t stop thinking about her. Remy, I mean. She just left. Everything seemed perfect and then, well … then Tai. One day she stopped talking to me, and then she was just gone. Everything we shared, thrown away with no explanation.”
“Vale, you were seventeen. She was fifteen. You were kids. Now you’re twenty, you’re a citizen of the Sector, you’re an officer in the Defense Forces. We live in a different world.”
“Where’s Miah?” I ask, closing my eyes. I can’t believe how exhausted I am. How the hell am I going to face Aulion in just a few hours?
“He’s waiting outside. I told him I needed a minute.”
“Look, just—”
“I won’t say a word. But Vale, seriously. It’s time to leave them behind. Just like they left us behind. I miss Jahnu, but he and his parents made their choice.”
“Do you ever wonder why he left?”
“I used to, but not anymore. I have no idea what my aunt and uncle thought they would find out in the Wilds. Some sort of agrarian paradise? Did they go to live with the Outsiders? Who knows—but I suppose every society has its rebels. We can’t change that.”
“Yeah, I know,” I mutter. I want to agree, but I don’t. I can’t. There are too many unanswered questions, too many ghostly memories that cling to me like a second skin, and I can’t seem to shed them. There’s something wrong here, something I’m missing. And tomorrow, at 07h00 hours, I intend to start looking for the answers.