1

I was nothing.

Then I was.

I blinked bleary, wet eyelids open. All I could see were white splotches and blurs. It was so bright. It felt as if my eyes were focusing for the first time, and while I could feel my legs, any attempt to stand was thwarted by lack of practice, so I fell back into my seat.

Something rushed down my throat. I pawed at my chest, terrified as it inflated. Then my foggy brain remembered it was only my lungs inflating from breathing air. Despite my lack of memories, I knew that somehow.

The very same air filling my mouth flowed against my skin.

My mind couldn’t focus on any one thing. I itched everywhere. The air was so dry. My body was accustomed to being submerged in the life-sustaining concoction of a synth-womb.

How do I know that?

“You may be experiencing some disorientation,” a feminine, but machine-like voice said. I assumed she was addressing me, although I still couldn’t see more than indiscernible shapes and shades. “I assure you it is quite ordinary upon awakening.”

My eyes scanned for a speaker. Found nothing. The voice was everywhere, like the unrelentingly itchy, dry air.

My mouth opened to respond but couldn’t form words. My tongue, vocal cords, they just fumbled through incoherent sounds. Somehow, I knew her language, but that knowledge apparently didn’t translate to my body parts.

“Your motor functions remain impaired because you have not yet utilized your corporeal form,” the voice said. “While your mind was active during the growth process and infused with relevant knowledge, you have only now been birthed from your synthetic womb. It has fostered your physical and cognitive development for ten years while you awaited an open dwelling in High Earth.”

“W… w… where…” It was a start, but I could get nothing else out. Speaking—even just that one word—brought attention to how the arid air had chapped my lips, like they wanted to crack off my face.

My face … my hands shot up toward it and ran along soft cheeks. Sharp nose. I was someone, but who?

“As the knowledge uploaded to your brain communicates with your conscious self, your muscles and nervous system will adapt accordingly,” the voice said. “For now, please respond to my questions with the appropriate head movement. A nod for yes, shake for no. This is to ensure that your brain is functioning properly. Do you understand? Please nod yes, or shake no.”

I searched again for the source of the voice and couldn’t find one. So I did as I was asked and nodded. My world went into a sudden spin. Everything quaked and trembled.

“Take it slow at first,” the voice said. “Your body and mind are unused to movement. Even the slightest disruption to your brain’s positioning will cause dizziness, which may lead to nausea.”

The room settled, but my sight remained unclear.

“I am your Virtual Occupant Residency Aide, or VORA. I am here to assist in your transition to your High Earth residency. Here, all your physiological and psychological human needs shall be satisfied by the High Earth Network. Do you understand where you are?”

My brain fed me information about the origination of High Earth. Like the fact that after Earth flooded, most of humanity living throughout the solar system had wiped each other out in a terrible war ushered in by the techno-revolution in the twenty-third century, and that the survivors founded a haven called High Earth atop the only portion of the planet remaining above the surface.

I tried to nod, slower this time. My muscles strained and my chin hit my chest.

“Excellent,” VORA responded. “The educational infusion process appears to have been successful.”

Some sort of bin with glowing blue nodes lowered over my head. I hadn’t noticed it until it started to hum, loudly.

“What… is…”

“I am testing Network’s virtual interface with your brain activity.”

I clenched my jaw as the humming intensified. The way the sound vibrated deep in my eardrums made my skull feel like it was going to explode. Then my head wrenched back, and the unclear blotches of shapes faded away.

Pixelated color filled in all around me. Little squares at first, but before I knew it, I could see the world in crystalline clarity. I sat in the middle of a grassy field. Each brilliant, green blade gently swayed, though I felt no breeze. My eyes drifted downward. I was seated, only there was no seat beneath me, nor could I see my body. This brought a new sense of panic and a further tightening of my chest.

My lips quaked as I tried to find the right muscles to ask what was going on. Then the world broke apart around me again. The ground fell away, and I fought every instinct to scream, though I didn’t fall. Instead, a new ground formed—shiny marble with inky veins running through it. Walls grew up around me, made of stone and covered in deep chasms. They extended farther than I could imagine possible and then arched overhead.

“User test complete,” VORA stated just as my sense of awe diminished enough for me to ask what was going on. “Virtual integration successful.”

Suddenly, that lofty interior space flaked away. My brain felt like it sank through my own body, and my eyes snapped open. The blue nodes lifted from their positions dancing around my head, and their hum faded, leaving me in total silence.

“That was your first virtual-reality experience—a computer-generated environment,” VORA said. “I will introduce you to the full capabilities of your VR chamber after you are more acclimated.”

I could now see enough to realize I was within a spherical glass container. Beyond it lay a rectangular room—stark white and tiled.

“This is your assigned smart-dwelling,” VORA said. “You have been provided the most advanced in technical developments to ensure healthy living whilst inside. It is our goal to ensure you will never have to leave unless it is your desire. Do you understand?”

I nodded.

“The Network is constantly updating to improve its interface and linked technologies based upon resident input,” VORA said. “You will be provided updates, upgrades, and immediate access to resident-developed content as it is made available. Once you are settled, we will discuss your data-allocation limits and occupancy contract to avoid delistment. Do you understand?”

There was so much being thrown at me I wasn’t sure what else to do but continue nodding. So, I’m ten years old but never walked or talked before, never seen anybody else? But already, I knew so much about the world that my brain was ready to burst.

“Thanks to your genetic donors, you have been issued a social designation,” VORA said. “Can you recall it?”

I squeezed my eyes shut and then, somehow, my brain fed me the proper information. “A…” My throat remained incredibly dry. “A… sher… R… Rein… hart…” That was my name—my social designation, as she called it. That was me.

“That is correct,” VORA said. “Are you ready to proceed, Asher Reinhart?”

The glass chamber peeled open at the exact moment I began to nod. I panicked and slid forward out of my seat. My thin, untested legs crumpled under my weight.

“Please refrain from attempting any excessive physical exertion without assistance,” VORA said. “You must proceed carefully while your bodily functions adapt to normal operation. A med-bot will arrive shortly for a final physical. I can now begin the process of familiarizing you with the amenities of your smart-dwelling.”

I ignored her. All I could focus on was a wall, which was comprised wholly of a bright window. Through it, I could see a grid of countless thin towers extending as far as my vision allowed. They all had square windows like mine stacked up each face.

I braced myself on the first piece of furniture I could find and wobbled forward. The tile floor was ice cold against my bare feet and sent a chill through me. By the time I reached the couch halfway across the room, I was panting, exhausted.

“Perhaps you should sit until your post-awakening physical is complete?” VORA said.

I was too winded to respond, so instead, I pointed at the window, sucked down one long breath, and shuffled toward it.

“That is High Earth,” VORA explained. “Welcome to the thirty-third floor of Residential Tower 3, located on Block 3C of High Earth.”

It took every ounce of energy in my shaky limbs to reach it. I leaned against the glass with both palms, my breath fogging up the perfectly clear surface. Suddenly, the pane zipped down, retracting into the floor, and I stumbled forward onto a balcony.

“Every resident has direct outdoor access to ensure optimal well-being,” VORA said.

Stepping toward a glass railing designed for a full-grown adult, rising almost over my head, my legs now shook more than ever. Wind howled as it whipped, touching only my hair. It made my skin even more itchy and assailed my ears.

Before I knew it, I found myself up on the balls of my feet, staring over and down at the impossible depths. I couldn’t focus. All I saw was green, sparkling towers, and suspended walkways before a nauseous, dizzying sensation overcame me.

I fell away from it and staggered for the safe, quiet interior. A pear-shaped robot with many spindly, shiny arms hovered just inside. Its impassive white eye-lenses stared straight ahead. The robot rushed to keep me from slamming against the—my floor. I clutched one of its arms as tightly as I could, accepting its assistance to a stone-gray couch. The window sealed behind me, and that awful screeching of wind ceased.

“I-I don’t like it out there,” I stuttered.

“That is all right,” VORA said. “It is your choice wherever you would like to go, Asher. Now, this med-bot will begin your post-awakening physical to ensure optimal health to initiate your life here in High Earth.”

The bot positioned itself before me, gyros spinning, whirring in the semitransparent lid that encompassed its human-shaped head.

“While you wait, I will play one of the most popular visual programs in all of High Earth, based upon data contribution,” VORA said. “Due to your genetic makeup and clear aversion to danger stimuli, I believe you will find Ignis: Live enjoyable. Please try to focus on the program so as not to interrupt your post-awakening physical.”

While I did as she instructed—what else could I do?—the window, my view of High Earth, morphed into a telecommunication screen, along with all the walls of my dwelling. A program, presumably the one she referred to as Ignis: Live , surrounded me, as if I were really there.

While the med-bot poked and prodded, testing my reflexes and anything else, I watched. I gasped at the sight of a girl a bit younger than me. The first human I’d ever seen, in such a high resolution, it was as if I were next to her.

[Ignis Feed Location]

Block B Med-Bay Nursery

<Camera 5>

“Never let anyone see you.” That was what Mission’s Birthmother Alora-12987 had told her every single day since she was old enough to understand.

Mission would’ve given anything for a glimpse of the interior world of the Ignis . It was all she thought about as she took one slow step after another toward the Block B med-bay’s infant nursery door. In a stroke of rare luck, another Birthmother had accidentally left it open after Mission emerged from her hiding place.

Mission strolled by the cribs of newborns, their shrill wails echoing off the polished metal walls. She ran her small fingers through one baby girl’s thin hair. Instead of quieting her, soothing her, it only made the crying louder. Mission grimaced and drew her hand back.

The door grew ever closer, and she could see the shadows of inhabitants passing by. The shoes of sewer jockeys, hauling supplies, slapped along the block’s rocky floor beyond the lobby. A couple quarreled, and Mission brought her ear closer to the door. What do normal people argue about? How could two inhabitants fight when there was so much to be thankful for?—an entire world to explore within their interstellar ark.

Mission reached cautiously for the entry controls, her hand quaking like they might burn her. She could see it now, down the entry lobby’s long ramp, that wonderful portal sinking toward places she could scarcely imagine.

A woman’s hand poked through the opening and shoved her back. Alora burst in, quickly signaling the door to shut all the way behind her.

Mission knew she should’ve expected her. Every day, Alora was the first Block B Birthmother to arrive at her assigned nursery and the last to leave. No job in Ignis was more crucial, at least, that was what Alora always said. That the white uniforms up in the Core liked to pretend they were all-important, but she had the privilege of caring for the future men and women who would one day replace them all.

Alora switched on the lights, and Mission saw the scowl stretched across her face. She was beautiful, the product of the refined genes that the Ignis’ systems helped perpetuate ever since they’d set out from Earth. Her belly bulged due to an assigned pregnancy—another future inhabitant who would get to live free… unlike Mission.

“Are you insane?” Alora whispered angrily.

Mission pretended to minister to a baby, but her body language betrayed her. She struggled to steady her breathing, hands still shaking from the anticipation of obtaining even the smallest glimpse beyond the med-bay door. She’d been growing bolder ever since her fifth birthday and couldn’t decide which was scarier: getting yelled at by her Birthmother, or the fact that a part of her wasn’t so scared anymore to walk outside and be seen.

“I heard someone in the lobby,” Mission murmured. “I was worried.”

“Don’t lie to me, Mission,” Alora replied. “I thought we had this discussion the last time you sliced the controls.”

“Someone left it open.” Alora leveled a glare at her, but Mission didn’t cave. “I swear.”

“You’re really going to make me tell Cassiopeia that?”

Mission shifted her feet, then frowned and said, “She’s stopped crying as much.”

“Who?” Alora asked.

Mission pointed to the crib with the loudest, most unpleasant infant. Mission didn’t know their names, wouldn’t allow herself. Even though they were printed right there on the tags hanging from each crib, she knew it would be too much once they inevitably moved on and she remained, stuck in a room that seemed to grow smaller and smaller every day. Though she was the one growing, wasn’t she?

“She’s fussy, that one,” Alora said as she bent to lift the girl. “Going to be a handful when she gets older. I wonder if she’ll lie to her Birthmother too?”

Mission rolled her eyes.

Alora turned around with the baby in her arms. Her lips twisted. Before she could say anything, the lights and various displays around the room flickered. The surge lasted for around thirty seconds before things returned to normal.

“Power is still acting up,” Alora stated.

“It’s done that twenty-three times in the last week,” Mission said.

Alora glanced at her, brow furrowed.

Mission shrugged. “I don’t have anything else to do.”

Alora sighed. “All right, it’s time.”

“Oh, why?” Mission whined. “Nobody’s here yet.”

“Let’s go, Mission. Cassiopeia is scheduled to come up early for their examinations today.”

The infant girl cooed as her miniature hand wrapped Alora’s finger. Mission was pretty sure that was the first time the girl had made a sound that wasn’t crying. Every day, crying, then silence when the infants fell asleep. Crying, then silence. Over and over…

“Can’t I stay until Cassiopeia knocks?” Mission begged.

“You know you can’t.”

“Pleeease.”

“No. She’s in charge here, which means…”

“‘She has card access and might not knock.’ Blah-blah.” Mission forced an impish grin, but her features quickly darkened. Alora noticed and frowned as well.

“I’m planning on telling Cassiopeia eventually,” Alora said, pangs of regret hampering her tone.

“You keep saying that.”

“I’m still getting a handle on her. I think she could deal with the truth, but if I’m wrong…”

“We both might be spaced. I know.”

Mission lowered the baby back into one of five presently occupied cribs. The nursery, filled with new inhabitants ranging from days old to a few months, provided the infants with specialized observation and sustenance required before being cleared to move on to the more developed nurseries, and then schooling. That was how it was supposed to go. A Birthmother was chosen to reproduce by the Collective, based upon the Core’s extrapolated data. Only, Mission was unlucky enough to have been conceived through what her Birthmother had called a “freak accident.”

“You don’t believe I’m going to tell her, do you?” Alora said.

“It’s been so long,” Mission replied.

“And Cassiopeia’s position with the Collective is stronger than ever.”

“I just…” Mission couldn’t manage another word.

Alora kneeled, took her by the shoulders and stared deep into her eyes. “I promise, I’m going to try when the time is right. None of this is your fault, my little miracle child.”

Mission hated that nickname. If she was such a miracle, why should she be kept hidden for so long?

Alora rustled Mission’s hair, but Mission didn’t budge. “For now, I just need you to take things one day at a time,” Alora whispered.

“As usual,” Mission groaned.

Alora’s lips pursed. It was the expression she always put on before reprimanding Mission for her attitude, but this time she stopped herself. “You have something to read?”

“There’s nothing I haven’t read.”

“I’ll see if I can find something else. It’s tough to get clearance for anything other than low-grade Earth history texts.”

“It’s fine.”

Mission slid an empty crib aside and crouched. Her small fingers ran in a practiced motion under the seam of a loosened metal floor panel, and she lifted. She’d done the same thing every day, but it still strained her muscles. The clatter as she slid it aside caused the fussy infant to start crying again.

“They’re hungry,” Mission muttered.

“It won’t always be like this, Mission,” Alora said at the same time.

A response simmered on the tip of Mission’s tongue but went no further. She didn’t have the energy. She lowered herself into the cramped, two-by-three-meter hole beneath the floor, then closed herself in.

“Who are you talking to?” the muffled voice of Alora’s superior and the Mother of Block B, Cassiopeia-11445, asked a short while later after the nursery door whooshed open.

“Nobody,” Alora quickly answered. “Just the children. They’re, uh… hungry. They need their Birthmothers.”

Mission lay in complete darkness while they chatted. She pulled a string to turn on a dim light Alora had jury-rigged. A pile of dusty historical texts brought from Earth when the Ignis set off on its journey rested behind her head, shuffled around a pillow and over an emergency oxygen tank. Many of their pages had been torn out, defaced by so many of Mission’s drawings, illustrating all manner of scenes from her imagination of what the outside world might be like. Some were splashed with color from the dried-out markers Alora occasionally snatched from the schooling hollow’s recycler.

Everyone else had their world within the Ignis . The myriad images drawn from Mission’s mind were hers—her only escape from the cramped hole she called home…

* * *

I leaned forward for a closer look at Mission alone in her hole. The med-bot nearly poked my eardrum mid-examination, and VORA instructed me to remain still. I didn’t care. Before I knew it, my feet were planted firmly on the floor and I’d waddled two steps. I was about to lose my balance when the med-bot sat me back down.

I stayed there, watching as Mission scribbled a drawing of two people until she fell asleep. The show was apparently a series of live recordings of the inhabitants within an interstellar ark known as the Ignis . Dozens of other feeds showed along the periphery of my walls, but I didn’t shift my main screen.

As the med-bot finished, a band clasped over my wrist. Pinpoints on its inside face dug into my flesh, the sting finally stopping me from staring at Mission’s feed.

“Your lifeband contains pharma to help moderate any emotional distress, such as your spell of acrophobia earlier,” VORA said. “It will also monitor your bodily functions and allow me to ensure optimal health.”

I mumbled something and nodded, then brushed the med-bot out of the way so I could return to the show. The bot hovered out of the room and disappeared. I didn’t pay close enough attention to see where.

“Now that you are cleared for all activity, may I introduce you to some of the other amenities of your smart-dwelling?” VORA asked.

“Not now,” I replied.

“I would recommend…”

I ignored the rest of what she said, hushed her, and kept watching. VORA was right when she said I’d enjoy Ignis: Live . What other amenities were necessary when I had Mission and all the other inhabitants to keep me company? Soon enough, Alora returned to the nursery and slowly opened the loose floor panel.

[Ignis Feed Location]

Block B Med-Bay Nursery

<Camera 9>

Alora shook Mission’s shoulder. She jolted awake, gasping for air. Her hand groped through the darkness until it found the respirator attached to her oxygen tank.

“Mission. Mission!” Alora said sharply. She took her by the chin and forced eye contact until she calmed down. “I’m sorry it took so long. A few biological fathers arrived for surprise visits, and I practically had to beg Cassiopeia to leave.”

Mission caught her breath, realizing she was tighltly squeezing the respirator. It was only a reaction. She wasn’t under for anywhere long enough to need it, but nearly every time her eyes closed under the floor, she woke in a panic. It couldn’t be helped.

“Is it safe?” Mission croaked. Her eyes had to adjust to the light, and her throat, to fresh—albeit recycled—air.

Alora nodded. “Everyone’s headed to their hollows. The infants are on audio surveillance, and I am on monitor shift.” She smiled, heaved Mission up out of her hole, and sat her on the edge. “I’ll stay in here instead.”

“Great.”

“I snuck some real food down. Grasshopper vegetable medley, your favorite. And before you ask, no, I didn’t get a chance to talk to Cassiopeia yet.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Mission brushed by her and followed the intoxicating smell wafting from a bowl across the room. Typically, she got leftover milk or baby mash, but Alora sometimes smuggled the real stuff from the hydrofarms when she was feeling extra guilty.

Mission poked at it. The casserole was freezing cold, but she lifted the rim to her mouth anyway and shoveled it in with her hand.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to eat like that?” Alora said. “It’s not civilized.”

“Neither is living in a hole in the floor.” Mission glowered back at her over her shoulder.

Alora ignored her and rooted around in Mission’s little compartment, studying a handful of the drawings she’d scrawled on loose pages using anything that left a mark on paper. She lifted the one Mission had been working on before falling asleep. The lines trailed off on the end, but it was what she imagined the bickering couple earlier that morning had looked like.

“This one is incredible, Mission,” she said.

“You can keep it if you want,” Mission garbled, her mouth full.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t look finished.”

“It is for me.”

Alora folded it gently and slid it into her pocket. “Your genetic mother would be so proud to see them. You get that from her. When she was young, she could imagine anything…” Alora got lost in a thousand-meter gaze, as she often did when she brought up Mission’s genetic mother. She’d never told Mission exactly what had happened, only that she’d died during her secret childbirth because of it. The father, shortly after.

“Too bad she’ll never see,” Mission remarked.

Alora staggered backward into her chair. Mission wasn’t sure why she’d said it so harshly. Everyone else got to give birth in the safety of the Block B med-bay, yet Mission was supposedly the miracle—she, with a mother whose anti-contraceptive implant had somehow malfunctioned, forcing her to endure a secret pregnancy outside the Collective’s regulation, and a fatal birth far from the medical equipment that could’ve saved her.

“Why are you acting like this?” Alora asked, tears welling in the corners of her eyes.

A hundred different answers came to mind, though none Mission could bear to say. Seeing Alora fight to keep her eyes from watering was too much. Mission knew what she was risking by keeping her existence hidden.

“I’m sorry,” Mission decided on. She’d made her point. “Being down there for too long makes me feel… funny.”

“I know. If there were anything I could do, you have to know I would, but the Collective would never believe it wasn’t planned. Tampering with an inhabitant’s implant is—”

“A high crime. I know,” Mission finished. “And what is hiding an unregistered child again?”

“Who knows. I’m the only one crazy enough to try.”

“Or stupid enough.” Mission lightly punched her in the leg, and they shared a chuckle. Alora wiped her eyes.

“I prefer ‘human enough,’” Alora added. She grabbed one of the texts from Mission’s home and pulled up a seat across from her. “Now, it’s time for your lesson before the babies start making a racket again.”

After a few lessons about how and why life on Earth ended, Mission noticed Alora starting to drift. A few more, and she was as sound asleep as the infants around the room.

Mission smiled as she removed the book and gently laid Alora’s head on the table. Alora always tried her best to stay up with her, but after a day’s worth of Birthmothering and sneaking food—she never lasted long. Mission didn’t mind. She was used to being alone, sharing her time with infants who could see her but would never remember. Safe.

The little girl nearest Mission’s hidey-hole began to coo like she usually did around this time of night. While Ignis , deep in space, had no day-night cycle, the Collective had found that children benefited from a natural, simulated routine. Good thing, otherwise, Mission would never be left alone.

A knock at the door made Mission’s heart leap into her throat. A man and woman spoke outside in hushed tones.

She hurried over and shook Alora, but Alora grumbled something and shooed her away. That was when Mission heard the control pad combo beeping. Whoever they were, they were coming in.

Mission darted toward her loose floor plate, not bothering to mute her footsteps. No time to worry about that. She made enough of a gap to stuff herself in, and her head was barely through when the door whooshed open. She had to release the panel without closing it all the way, leaving a noticeable gap. Lowering it into the groove would be too loud.

“Who is that?” Alora blurted, nearly falling from her chair.

“I could ask the same of you,” an old man replied. His voice was rugged but confident.

“Mr. Dorromy,” Alora stammered. Mission had heard the name before. He was the Head of the Collective. “Sorry, I fell asleep reading to them.”

“That’s all right, Alora. Routine checkup,” Cassiopeia said, accompanying Dorromy. “We’ve had reports of faulty air recyclers on this level, as well as surges in energy output from the core to the blocks, which I’m sure you’ve noticed.”

“Of course.”

“We need you and all others to vacate the area while we investigate,” Dorromy said.

“I can help.” Alora sounded nervous. Her footsteps moved away from Mission’s still-open hiding place in a clear effort to divert their attention. “I’m in here every day.”

“I’m sure you can, but first, we have to ensure this isn’t the result of mischief.”

“I assure you, none of my Birthmothers would do something like that,” Cassiopeia said, terse.

“Yet children are unpredictable,” Dorromy noted.

“I assume you don’t meet many up in the core?” Alora asked.

“They’d only get in the way. Now, I will ask kindly for everyone except Cassiopeia to vacate immediately. I’d rather not involve enforcers over something so trivial. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I really don’t think—” Alora started before Cassiopeia cut her off.

“It’s fine, Alora,” she said. “I’ll watch him.”

Alora hesitated for a few seconds, then exhaled. “Fine… But please, try not to disturb the children any more than you already have.” Mission peeked out and saw Alora glance back at her, her face flushed with concern.

“He wouldn’t dream of it,” Cassiopeia said. “Isn’t that right, Dorromy?”

“Of course,” he said. “Earth has fallen. We remain.”

“Go wait in the galley with the others,” Cassiopeia told Alora. Mission heard her being shuffled out, and every time she tried to talk, Cassiopeia hushed her.

Once Alora was gone, Dorromy’s heavy boots clomped across the floor toward the monitoring screen at the back of the room… toward Mission. Mission held her breath as his shadow passed across the opening, tall and slinky like all those growing in the low g of the core. The infants started to fuss.

“I don’t know how you do it,” Dorromy said.

“So, what do you expect to find here?” Cassiopeia asked.

“We’ve underplayed the significance of the core’s strange behavior the last week. The power fluctuations are… well, we have no idea what’s causing them. That stays between us, by the way. We can’t have a panic.”

“And you think we have something to do with it?”

“No need to be defensive, Cassiopeia. We must investigate everything we can. And oxygen expenditure readings from this particular room in your med-bay are slightly elevated relative to population.” Dorromy’s fingers danced across the screen as he shuffled through data.

“Slightly? Is that really worth unsettling my Birthmothers over? Nobody is used to seeing a member of the Collective down here for anything but reproductive pairings.”

“I assure you; nobody has any reason to be nervous unless they’re guilty of placing the core’s well-being in jeopardy.”

“Don’t be a fool,” Cassiopeia said. “You know why.”

“Well, you’d better get used to it. As soon as your time is up here, you’re on the list to join us. Our work comes first.”

“I won’t stay huddled up in the core until I’m less than human.”

“None of this is human, Cassiopeia. It’s what we have to do to carry the flame.”

Dorromy stopped fiddling with the screen and turned. His toe caught the lip of Mission’s floor panel and caused him to trip. Mission gasped, then covered her mouth and sank back farther into the darkness.

“What in Earth’s name,” Dorromy said. “Have you noticed this unsealed flooring?”

“I haven’t,” Cassiopeia replied.

Dorromy crouched and ran his fingers underneath it. Mission raised a second hand to her mouth. Her heart thumped against her rib cage. The lights were on. If he opened it farther, he’d see her drawings, her makeshift bed and the oxygen tank. He’d know before he even saw her tucked back as far as she could go under the crisscrossing metal structure.

“The Ignis is a flawless ecosystem, Cassiopeia,” Dorromy said.

“I don’t need a lecture,” she answered.

“One rift, and oh-two circulation is not optimal.” He strained to lift the panel, but Alora had always said living in the core’s low g had weakened longtime members of the Collective. His arms wobbled. “Can you help me remove it? Maintenance will be summoned immediately to reseal it.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“An explanation for the surges would have been preferable.”

“Are you sure you didn’t just want to see me again?” Cassiopeia said, a playfulness in her tone that Mission didn’t understand.

“Don’t flatter yourself. I didn’t choose us all that time ago, the core did. Now, if you please? Help an old man.”

Mission’s eyes grew wet as she saw Cassiopeia’s shadow shift, and her hand sliding under the panel. She could picture it all, just as Alora had explained. That they’d be shot through the airlock side by side. Frozen in the void called space.

Metal screeched as they slowly began to lift. Then every light in the entire block went dark. The air recyclers rattled to a stop. Mission had been so used to them, she had no idea how loud they actually were until their absence. Screams echoed from outside, harsh and terrified.

Cassiopeia and Dorromy dropped the panel with a clang so loud it might as well have been an airlock breaking open.

“What’s going on?” Cassiopeia asked.

“By Earth… they were right,” Dorromy said. The pure terror in his voice was palpable.

“Right about what?”

“Some feared that with the Core acting up, a blackout…” He couldn’t even finish. “Where’s the door? I can’t see anything.”

He took another step and bumped hard into a crib, which stirred the infant inside into a frenzy. Cassiopeia hurried to help him, ignoring the child. Mission didn’t risk another second. She squeezed through the narrow opening they’d left and rolled out onto the floor. The screaming and chaos outside now had all the infants awake, crying.

Mission had spent the entirety of her young life in the nursery. She didn’t need light to find the exit, even if she couldn’t see the hand in front of her face. She swept out into the lobby and backed up against the wall, finally feeling like she could breathe again.

It was only as she heard the patter of chaotic footsteps all around her that she realized this was the farthest she’d ever been from her home. She started to hyperventilate, and every breath felt more and more stale with the air recyclers off.

“Alora…” she whimpered. “Alora, where are you?”

The only person she’d ever known had left her alone. Cassiopeia and Dorromy still struggled to find their way out of the room, but they’d get out eventually.

So young Mission did the only thing she could think of. She ran. The other inhabitants she raced by weren’t used to total darkness, but she was. And the tiny hints of light given off by the flashlights via sewer jockeys were enough for her to find a path.

People screamed all around her. Women, men, young and old. She couldn’t pick Alora’s voice out from any of them, and she had no idea where the Block B galley even was.

So she kept running.

Toward where terrified voices echoed louder, out into the internal world of the Ignis ark ship. It was as dark as anywhere else, but the air felt… lighter somehow. She couldn’t explain it, only that breathing grew a smidge easier.

She slammed into someone and fell back. The man, whoever he was, cursed, but she was gone by the time his hand reached for her. She found a wall near a hydrofarm and climbed up, using a stalk of something for leverage. If there was one thing her hole had made her good at, it was climbing.

Reaching the top, she rolled over onto her back. Frenzied people cried out all around her, but all she could do was listen, their voices coming from around and above, all throughout the internalized world.

She focused on the sounds, on how enormous the Ignis sounded, and her panic started to wane. Inhabitants kept screaming about the darkness and the lack of power from the Core, but this was more light than she ever had.

“I’ll be okay, I’ll be okay,” she heard a tiny voice muttering nearby, over and over.

She flipped over, ready to bolt until she realized that across the rocky outcrop sat a young boy, around her age. He held a dim flashlight against his chest so that it lit his chin, but his eyes were closed as he rocked back and forth. The light’s charge was low, and he squeezed it as if his hands might help power it longer.

Mission knew she shouldn’t, but it was too late. She was already exposed, and as soon as the power returned, she’d be found. But now that she was so far beyond her hole, that part of her that so gravely sought to be free of it took over. She felt bold again.

Crawling to the boy, she sat, legs folded, across from him.

“It’s only darkness,” she whispered. “It can’t hurt you.” She extended her hand, slowly, hovering just over his arm. Her throat went dry. Other than the babies and Alora, she’d never touched another human being. She pulled her hand away.

The boy peeked through one squinted eye. “How do you know? Listen to them.”

“I promise.”

He snatched her hand before she could do anything about it. Her heart skipped a beat. On instinct, she pulled, but his grip was strong enough to hold her until she calmed.

“Don’t leave me,” he said, voice shaking.

“I… I…”

He slowly tilted the light so it illuminated her face. He opened his one eye a bit more, then the other until he was staring straight into hers. His brow furrowed. “What’s your name? I’m Jacen.”

“I’m…” Mission swallowed, then gathered her breath. Her pulse started to race again. Every instinct told her to run away, find Alora in the darkness. But his grip held her steady. The warmth of his hands calmed her.

“I’m Mission,” she said.

* * *

“Hello, Mission,” I responded, as if she could hear me. Maybe she can.

The events of the blackout had drawn me from my couch, and now I sat directly in front of the main screen. As Jacen shined the light on Mission, I could see the color of her eyes in perfect clarity. They were the most beautiful things I could imagine, with more shades of green than even the grass in the virtual simulator.

I stayed there until my newly discovered body gave way to exhaustion, watching as Mission was introduced to her world—same as I was being to mine. And from that moment, I knew that somehow, I had to be a part of her show.