BREAKFAST. WE SIT IN the food hall of HAP Three. Nikolaj and Oksana are fawning over one another. While all neo-births are strictly controlled, the Leader believes pair-bonding is a good thing, strengthening our society. But even this is controlled. Licenses have to be obtained, sanctioning the pairing according to an algorithm that determines if your match will be of benefit to the community. For many Graciles, it’s become a sport: seeing who has the ability to correctly pick their mate. Nikolaj and Oksana were apparently correct. It makes him even smugger and only exacerbates my headache.

Coming down from DBS is never fun. It starts off slowly, the pain of the previous day pushing through my skull. Then Vedmak’s voice, gritty and deep, initially echoing far away in the recesses of my subconscious, grows louder as the effects of the drug wear thin. Then all too soon, it’s back to reality.

I poke at the vegetables on my plate and stare at the brilliant-white counter surface that stretches past twenty seats, lined up with twenty more tables just like it. I’m not hungry. Evgeniy was right. He said he’d be Ax’d. He knew it. His injuries didn’t look bad, but he was Ax’d all the same. It must have been later last night. I went to see him early this morning—needed to see if his head was clearer and he was perhaps less cryptic. But there was only an empty cot. The sheets were neatly folded and crisp, as if no one had ever slept there before.

But he was there, and now he’s gone. What will you do? How will you survive without the DBS? Vedmak’s needling is more abrasive than usual.

Breathe through it, Demitri. Concentrate. Nikolaj is bleating at Oksana again. He’s talking about our work. At least he isn’t clamped onto her face anymore.

“We’re close, you know? We just need one collision,” Nikolaj says. “That one perfect moment to prove the existence of other dimensions. And if it’s true ... well, that’s a whole other field of research with a plethora of possibilities.”

“Why?” I’m not even sure why I ask. It will only start trouble.

Nikolaj glares at me. “Why what?”

“Why do we care about other dimensions? Shouldn’t we be trying to fix this one?” As the words slip from my mouth, the question resonates in my head.

Indeed, little Demitri. Why aren’t you doing something of actual value? Vedmak presses.

“That kind of talk will get you Ax’d. Why do you have to brood on things so much? Just be happy. Privileged as your existence is, everything we have is thanks to the Leader.”

“Existence. Yes, but is it living? Evgeniy was Ax’d last night. Because someone felt his existence wasn’t necessary anymore.”

“We all need purpose, Mitya,” Nikolaj snaps. “Evgeniy outlived his.”

“I’m going to the lab. I have work to do.”

“Are you sure, Mitya? Is it worth it?” Nikolaj fires back.

“It’s better than sitting here listening to you smack your lips like a cow.” I don’t know where this inner strength came from. It wasn’t Vedmak; it was my voice.

* * *

AS I RUB MY TEMPLES, eyes screwed shut, trudging forward along my well-worn path, I slam into something—someone. A Creed soldier. Actually two. Larger than normal, they lack any empathy in their features. Neither resembles any Gracile I’ve known before.

“Gentlemen, let our esteemed colleague through. Do you not know who this is? Why, this is our very own Demitri Stasevich.”

The Creed part and flank a man who steps through the breach. The Leader. My heart stops. The Leader has always shown Nikolaj and me special attention—a sort of father figure in a world where parents are obsolete. Yet he’s always made me nervous. Though a little short at just under two meters, he seems to tower over me. His old but muscular frame exudes strength and authority. The breathing apparatus wedged under his nose, releasing the antibacterial mist, obscures his features just enough to hide whether he’s smiling or scowling.

“Come, young Demitri. Tell me of your progress. How go the experiments?” He slips a long, powerful arm around my shoulder and guides me to the door of my lab. Without even pressing the identity pad, the door whooshes open, the voice overhead announcing his arrival in an overfriendly female tone.

“I, well, we ... I mean to say, we’ve made little progress. The collisions are not generating the information we hope to find. Right now we have no way of proving extra dimensions.”

“Indeed, Demitri. But I note that you are trying in here every day with your brother.” His soft tones and wizened gaze are unnerving—his eyes a gray blue, not hazel. “This is what is important. May I look at your data?”

Without waiting for my reply, he dives into the electronic files at my station. Faster than I’m able to read, he flicks through each folder and document on the screen. In a few minutes, he’s done. “Hmm, frustrating, I know. You seem to almost be there, but something eludes you ...”

It feels like an accusation. “I guess, sir. Nikolaj and I, we are trying ...”

His eyebrows raise. “I am sure you are. And where is your brother now?”

“Not back from breakfast yet, sir. But coming back soon, I’m sure. We have another run this afternoon.”

“Excellent,” he replies. “Most excellent.”

Why does he suddenly seem as though every little thing pleases him?

“Of course, you don’t seem to save your work to our servers, Demitri. You make me so curious that I have to come all the way here in person.”

Was that an allegation? My stomach knots.

Tell him, puppet. Tell him why you don’t access the neuralweb. Tell him and be free.

Not now—please, not now. My eyes must be as wide as saucers.

He should know, you coward. Why be afraid of this man? You know nothing of him; he’s old and frail. Look at him.

I fake a smile and attempt to block Vedmak out, tapping my forehead with my fingers. “I um ... I just think our work is important, I don’t want anyone accidentally corrupting it.” A lie—a bad lie.

He stares at me for an eternity before his stony expression breaks into a broad grin that can even be seen behind his rebreather. “Of course, Demitri. Whatever you need. Who am I to question the methodology of one of my brightest?”

“Thank—thank you, sir. Is there anything else, sir?”

“No, I don’t believe so, though we should have dinner one of these days, my boy. I may even have a new vinyl record for your collection.” He turns to walk away, but stops abruptly and looks back. “Actually, before I forget, I wish to offer my condolences for your friend, Evgeniy.”

Of course he knows. He knows everything. My visit would have been logged. But how much does he know?

Vedmak laughs. What to do now? Will he figure you out and Ax you right here?

Shut up. I need to think. Keep it together.

“Demitri?” the Leader presses.

“Yes, I mean, thank you, sir. I knew him vaguely. We exchanged some thoughts on our work in physics, you know, as we work in similar fields and all.”

“Indeed, Demitri, but still, it is great effort on your part. To travel to another HAP that far away at night. You must have been good friends.” Again, his tone is accusatory.

Tell him you’re a sad little addict who talks to himself, Vedmak rasps.

“Demitri, are you all right, my boy? You’re a little pale ...” The Leader studies me. “Perhaps you should go home for the day?”

That wasn’t a request. “Yes, perhaps, sir. I think the attack affected me more than I thought it would.”

“Indeed. The attack. Those Robusts, a constant thorn in our perfect side. Every so often they get brave enough to climb out of their little hole and scratch us, but we will prevail.”

“The Robust resistance claimed the attack?”

“No, not yet, but they will, I’m sure.” He flashes a sympathetic look. “Time to go home, I think, young Demitri. Tomorrow is another day.”

The same as yesterday, and the day before. And the day before that. Breathing in and out until you die. What an existence you Graciles have. The envy of all the multiverse.

Vedmak’s laughing grows incessant. When he’s this loud in my head, I can almost see him—those cold eyes, a cruel smirk, and long, lank hair whipping about his face in an imaginary squall.

Gathering up my environmental suit and helmet, I mumble an apology, then storm out and down the corridor. Near exit two, the force of Nikolaj tugging at my arm swings me almost 180 degrees. He grips me tightly at the elbow, but I shake free and keep walking.

“Hey, where are you going?” he calls.

“Home. The Leader gave me the day off.”

“But home is through exit one. You’re going the wrong way.”

No, I’m not.

* * *

LILLIPAD NINE. I DON’T know why I expected it to look different from any other lillipad. Everything looks the same in New Etyom. There are no Creed guarding this Pistil. At least that’s in my favor. Coming all the way to HAP Nine would likely be suspicious, and with Evgeniy Ax’d, who would I say I’m visiting? A new sweat breaks out on my brow. I just need to get the stuff. Go and meet his contact and get my drugs, then get back as fast as possible.

You can’t control me. But perhaps I can control you, just like the little puppet you are.

The thought is terrifying. He’s already spoken for me. What if he can control me? I need to get my fix. I tramp from the cable car, across the tarmac, through the airlock, and into the lobby.

Evgeniy lived on floor six, apartment nine, of HAP Nine’s Pistil. It’ll be easy enough to find. The elevator whooshes up and halts abruptly. I peer out, willing the corridor to be empty. Mercifully it is. I heave a sigh of relief and head toward his studio.

The metallic key Evgeniy gave me doesn’t work. Dammit. There’s a low hum, then nothing. I grit my teeth, check the corridor, and try again. Again a low hum, then an electronic peep. The door slides open. I dart in and press the “Close” button before the open cycle has even finished. The door clunks shut and automatic lights come on, but they’re low.

While the furniture in his apartment is much the same as in mine—functional and synthetic—Evgeniy, like me, has a collection of relics from the old world. Many of us came from the richest of the human race. Valuable items were dragged here before it would have been deemed resource inefficient to do so.

On a shelf stands a strange creature in bronze, composed of an elephant’s body on ridiculously long stick-like legs. On the wall hangs a small abstract oil painting in shades of blue with splashes of yellow. The painter’s expression is clear and vivid. I know it well. Or at least I know him well, a man who had a breakdown that resulted in the self-mutilation of his left ear and voluntary admission to the Saint-Paul-de-Mausole lunatic asylum. There he sat and painted, trying to figure out his own madness.

Why would Evgeniy want it? What meaning could it have had for him? My gaze falls upon a small placard with a quotation: “We take death to reach a star – Vincent van Gogh.”

Perhaps death is the only escape for anyone. Focus, Demitri. Why are you here? The Creed have already been here, emptying his closets and drawers. What was it he said?

Vedmak snorts. He told you the key would give you the information, you moron. Use that supposedly superior brain of yours.

He’s right. There, in his bedroom, sits a computer. I plonk myself at the desk and examine the machine. It looks like it’s been recently tampered with. It’s still warm. The key gloves slip over my fingers easily and the screen flickers to life.

To my surprise there is no password screen. It launches directly to his desktop. A bunch of files. Some photos and documents. Nothing special. I insert the metal object Evgeniy gave me, which I can now see is a data stick, into the multiport in the monitor. Immediately a program initiates, and a red low-power laser projected from a tiny opening next to a built-in webcam scans my face. A video window pops up on the display. It’s Evgeniy.

“Welcome, Demitri,” he begins. “You are watching this video, which means you’re either intrigued by what I have told you, or your craving for DBS has gotten the better of you. Either way, you’re one step closer to enlightenment.”

Even in the video footage he seems jittery, glancing over his shoulder every so often. Where is he? I don’t recognize anything behind him. A small cockpit, perhaps?

“You’re probably wondering how I made it back and forth to Etyom below. Well, this is your answer.” He gestures to his immediate surroundings. “An old VTV. Don’t ask me where I got it. But it’s the fastest and safest way to get down and back up.”

“I don’t know how to pilot that.”

“I imagine you don’t know how to pilot this. Don’t worry; when you get here, that won’t be a problem.”

Now I’m really confused.

“Your bigger problem will be moving around Lower Etyom incognito. You will undoubtedly stand out, young Demitri.”

That’s an understatement.

“In the VTV you’ll find what you need to disguise yourself. But there is one ... specific piece of the disguise that will require you to use your nanobots upon your return. Again, you’ll see what I mean when you get here.”

“I don’t have nanobots. For the Leader’s sake, I wish he’d stop with the spy talk.”

Vedmak laughs. Afraid?

“To reach the VTV, go to HAP Seven and make your way to the edge facing away from HAP One. There’s a large crack in the tarmac. If you feel over the edge, there’s a rope ladder that leads down to the vehicle concealed between the HAP and the support balloon.” He glances over his shoulder again. “You’ll set down near an enclave—think of it as a village surrounded by a wall. The guard at the gate will ask to see your ID, which you’ll find in the VTV. Make your way to a place, a building, called Konistiva, and ask to see Yuri. Tell him I sent you and you’re there for the DBS.” He pauses and focuses on the camera. “And tell him you need to know what was in the package I sent. You need to know what he knows.”

I hate this.

“Now go, Demitri. You may be of more value to this world than you know.”

The video stops and the program ends.

Sard. What the hell is going on? There was no disguise here at all. Of course there wasn’t. He wanted me here because only his computer could verify who I am. So the Creed couldn’t find it. An empty feeling grows in the pit of my stomach. Now I have to make it to HAP Seven.

Don’t chicken out now, Vedmak says. You are so close to doing something vaguely interesting with your pathetic little life.

Without giving Vedmak the satisfaction of a response, I make my way to the door.