DAY 11, 9:45 A.M.

Aboard Genesis 11

As the new week begins, Longwei changes his method of attack.

Instead of physical violence, he demonstrates his hatred by destroying me in every single morning competition. He’s first in all of our nyxia manipulations. He aces our quiz on the predominant mammals in Eden. He even surprises us in the water tank. Instead of manipulating his nyxian ring into goggles, he makes a special pair of shoes. We all crane our necks as he slips on the webbed padding and dives into the pool. I’m not sure what they are or how he made them, but he swims like he’s an Olympian and crushes my times.

After each task, he looks over until I meet his eyes. It’s like he’s making sure I know that all of this, all his effort and all his skill, is now directed solely at me. Instead of being angry, though, I find myself smiling. I like this version of Longwei. At least this version feels human.

When lunch rolls around, I’m second on the scoreboard, but the discussion revolves around the afternoon event. Running in the Rabbit Room will be replaced by another competition for the next nine days. Everyone’s discussing the possibilities like it’s going to be fun. But so far Babel’s had us digitally murder each other, swim through storms, and run through exhausting obstacle courses. I doubt the next event will be midnight bowling or putt-putt.

“What if it’s, like, flying little spaceships?” Jazzy suggests. “I’d love to fly something.”

Katsu wags his fork. “No way they let us fly a spaceship.”

“As long as it’s not the Rabbit Room, I don’t care what it is,” says Bilal. He looks tired, like he hasn’t been getting enough sleep. I guess we all look that way. “I hate the Rabbit Room.”

I glance over, surprised Bilal’s even familiar with the concept of hating something.

“Only because we always win,” Azima teases him. “I love the Rabbit Room. I love to run. And I have never seen such lovely trees before.”

Bilal frowns. “You ran into one of those lovely trees. Remember?”

“It was still lovely,” Azima answers. “I wonder why they make us run so much. Will we run on Eden?”

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Kaya looking deep in thought, like she’s disappeared into a place where none of us can follow. Today her hair’s in a thick braid that drapes over one shoulder like a sash. It takes her a minute to remember she’s in a world with other people.

“Azima asks a good question.”

Kaya’s voice is so quiet that it silences every other conversation.

“I did?” Azima replies.

“What are they preparing us for?” Kaya’s eyes are lost in calculation. “The nyxia tasks make sense. They’re preparing us to use the substance we have to gather. I’d imagine it can be reduced into a certain form that’s easier to transport into space. And swimming. That means there will be rivers or oceans. The Rabbit Room is either to keep us in shape or to prepare us for running from place to place. But why are they having us fight?”

“Didn’t you see what happened to the marines in that video?” I ask.

Jazzy makes a face. “But we don’t have to fight ’em. Mr. Defoe said the Adamites like us. We’re their welcome guests.”

“Maybe there are other species,” Bilal suggests. “Maybe we have to fight those.”

“Every action has a motive,” Kaya says firmly. “I know the next task too. We haven’t learned how to mine the substance. That’s coming next.”

Katsu shrugs his massive shoulders. “None of this matters if you’re not in the top eight.”

He’s in the top four, feeling safe. Roathy and Isadora have the lowest scores. Every day Roathy doesn’t return, his score drops and my guilt rises, but Isadora’s the real surprise. Her scores weren’t great to begin with, but now she’s mentally checked out of the competition. She is Longwei’s opposite. The only similarity between them is their isolation, their distance. But while Longwei listens to each conversation and files the information away to be used later, Isadora doesn’t seem to hear a word.

She stares at the distant blast doors, waiting for Roathy to come back. Last week, I overheard Kaya trying to cheer her up. Isadora snapped for her to go away. She and Roathy didn’t even know each other before boarding the ship, but his injury’s made them thick as thieves. It’s as if seeing him wounded drew Isadora to his side. It reminds me of the dudes who showed up to school with broken bones. Girls who didn’t usually give them the time of day were lining up to sign casts or carry books.

All it means for Isadora is that her score is dropping almost point for point with his. A part of me feels bad for her, but a bigger part of me says that her loss is my gain. One less person to have to keep an eye out for. The thought leaves me feeling cold, guilty.

Defoe arrives a little later than normal. He’s back in his smoke-threaded suit and looking like the whole world is bending backward to give him what he wants.

“New teams for the afternoon session,” he announces.

Kaya nods like she expected it. A glance shows that Azima is distraught. I don’t really know how to feel. It makes sense for Babel to mix us up, to not let us get too close with any one team or group. But I liked being on a team, and I liked winning as a team. Now the game changes.

“Emmett, Longwei, Roathy, Katsu, and Jazzy.”

I can’t help but glance over at Longwei. His eyes are locked on mine, and he’s not happy. Finally, I think, an event he can’t beat me in. The thought makes me smile. I just have to hope he doesn’t stab me or something. We’re short a teammate because of Roathy’s absence, but even without him, we’ll still have a good chance of winning. The only misfortune is being set against Kaya. My friend and ally, but also the group’s best strategist.

“Kaya’s team. Do you want to go first or second?”

I’m surprised to hear Defoe call them Kaya’s, but her teammates don’t question it. She’s made a name for herself in the Rabbit Room. Longwei may have the highest score, but she’s the one people rally around. She’s smart and kind and quick on her feet. We watch the other team circle and listen as she whispers a plan. Jaime surfaces from their huddle.

“We’ll go second,” he announces.

Defoe turns and leads us straight down to the Rabbit Room. Bilal groans with disgust as the blast doors open. I’m wishing I hadn’t eaten so much. How much more can they make us run? As we arrive, though, it’s easy to see that the room’s changed. The mesh net has been removed. Overhead, ceiling panels hang open to reveal wires and hardware. Spindly white cords dangle from the ceiling like spiderwebs. I count five thick cords. One for each member of the team.

“Initiate drill sequence,” Defoe commands.

The lights in the room dim. Each thick cord branches off into five nerve endings. At the end of these smaller wires are dime-sized white circles. As we watch, the cords float upward and arrange themselves in a halo. No one moves, because it’s like watching a science-fiction movie come to life. Most of Babel’s technology has been an upgrade of what we have back home. This is the first time the tech makes Babel seem as alien to us as the Adamites are.

Who are these people? I glance over and catch Kaya’s raised eyebrow. At least I’m not the only one thrown off by Babel’s endless gadgets. I file it away under L for Look Into It.

“First team, you’re up,” Defoe says. “Complete the tutorial and begin your task. In order to win, you must accomplish the task faster than the other team. Good luck.”

Longwei leads us out to the cords. Katsu makes a joke about mind control, but no one laughs because it feels too close to the truth. Up close, I hear electrodes firing and feel a strange warmth beneath the sentient cords. Taking a deep breath, I step beneath the nearest set and press up onto my tiptoes.

One by one, the little circles suction to my face. The first one lands and the temperature in the room goes up twenty degrees; a second later I’m sweating into my suit. The next circle attaches, and a whispering gasp of smoke sounds. The third one makes the room smell like sulfur. The fourth gives me cotton mouth, a taste like rotting cigars. And when the last one lands, my synapses all fire at once and I lurch into the unknown realities of elsewhere.

A sliver of my brain holds to the knowledge that what I’m seeing isn’t real. On my left, Katsu, Longwei, and Jazzy look like wax sculptures. None of them move or talk or breathe. This isn’t real, I think again. But then the rest of my brain attacks the sliver. It feels real. I put a hand up and part the rising smoke. My eyes drag across a landscape of barren hills and rock-strewn barrows. The sky isn’t much of a sky. More of a misty overlord pressing down on any and every thing.

“Cool,” someone says. I look over to find Katsu kneeling on the ground. He’s holding a shard of volcanic glass. He snaps it into two pieces and laughs. “Really cool.”

Behind him, Longwei’s moving now. Jazzy stands to one side, her eyes pinched shut.

“You all right, Jazzy?” I ask.

Her eyes open, and she smiles. “Yeah, sorry. The heat. It kind of feels like home.”

I shoot her a smile as we start to explore the surroundings. There’s something contagious about being thrust into the unknown that has us laughing and pointing like little kids. It’s impossible to see much beyond two hundred meters, though. I can feel the ground pulsing like it’s alive. It reminds me of the first day Defoe gave us our nyxian rings, like something waits in the stones. We’re all exploring the foreign landscape when the biggest truck I’ve ever seen bulldozes through the misty nothing. Its wheels are twice my size. A white-railed staircase and matching ladder are built into the front of it.

As the driver pulls around, I see that the huge rig is broken up into three parts. The front end features a driver’s hatch and an intricate nest of high-tech panels and switches. The middle section looks like a shadowy, robotic bird perched inside a cage of metal beams. Behind it is a loading bed that could easily fit two or three houses. A miniature rover roosts there, loaded down with its own mechanical goodies.

Smoke continues to dance around our ankles as the driver parks and descends the ladder. He’s just like one of the marines from Babel’s first video. Hair buzzed, utility belt brimming with gadgets, and a voice deeper than the idling truck engine.

“Welcome to the nyxian mining orientation video. Are all trainees accounted for?”

We all look around. For the first time, Roathy’s absence stings in the other direction. I glance at the others guiltily before Longwei says, “Yes, sir.”

The marine straightens. “I’m Lieutenant Light. Behind you is the finest piece of mining equipment you’ll ever see. This machine is a hell of a lot smarter than you are, so most of the time you just let it do its thing. Whenever you arrive at a dig site, the first step is surveying the deposit. Everything starts with the command panel.”

He walks us over to the truck and slides away the metal siding. The lights and clockwork underneath look as indecipherable as hieroglyphics. There’s a mess of buttons and an empty black screen. He presses and holds a silver button for three seconds. “All functions require a three-second activation as a protection against accidents. This button initiates the surveying process.”

Hatches between the wheel sets open, and a dark cloud of drones sweeps past us. We can hear a low buzz as they start laser-scanning the terrain. As they work, digital imaging maps itself onto the screen in front of us. Babel’s bells and whistles keep getting more and more absurd.

The drones return to their hatches, and the marine brings our attention back to the screen.

“There are two readouts for every nyxia mine. The first one shows the depth and width of your deposit.” A 3-D image displays a jagged underground hive of nyxia. The black spirals down some three hundred meters and stretches about half as wide. As we watch, a pink blip pings along the surface of the deposit. The marine stubs a finger at it. “That’s your origin point. The very center of the deposit and, therefore, the best place to start mining. However, it’s always best to consider the second screen before you begin the mining process.”

He makes a show of pressing his finger to the screen and swiping left. The black hive is replaced with a diagram of crisscrossing red slashes. They’re not nearly as numerous, and most of them are gathered in the deepest corners of the mine.

“As with most underground operations, there are firedamp pockets. The key thing to remember is that red is bad. Very bad. Your commander will have to keep an eye on where they are so that you don’t drill right into one and get yourself blown to shit. Some of the smaller ones can be siphoned, but the computer indicates pockets that are too dangerous to get close to.”

He swipes the screen a second time and the images merge. A black spiral of nyxia tainted by red gas pockets that, according to this dude, are waiting to blow me up. Great.

“The computer will make the safest decision. Keep that in mind. If your engineer sees a way around the gas pockets that will be more lucrative, that decision is up to him to make. As long as you don’t endanger the lives of your team, you can deviate from the computer’s decisions.” The marine presses a pinkish button and counts off three seconds with his other hand. When his final finger ticks off, the truck lurches to life. We all stumble away as the engine revs and the wheels turn and the whole thing rumbles forward. Driverless. No one reacts, because self-driving cars are standard issue. It’s the unloading of the drill that catches our attention.

The system controls lead the truck slightly to the left, and it heaves to a stop after about fifty meters. The marine holds out a hand to stop as a metallic screech sounds over everything. We watch the silver wings spread on their own. Huge, spiked talons extend and bury into the ground. The rest of the metal contraption slides out after them, unfolding like a massive claw.

Katsu says, “Are you guys even seeing this? This is amazing!”

Thirty seconds later, our drill hovers above the soil ominously. The thing is fifteen meters high. We shuffle to the side as the truck reverses to give the looming device a wide berth for digging.

“You’ll want teams of five,” he says. “Your commander monitors everything. He or she should give instructions and keep everyone working toward the goal. Second job goes to your jackjack. There’s space in that drill for a driver. The jackjack has to be quick with his hands, strong, and responsive to even the slightest change beneath the surface. You need someone calm too. If shit hits the fan two hundred meters underground, they need to have ice in their veins. Two people are needed to set up your conveyor shaft, and the last person will transform nyxia into our ideal cargo dimensions. Any questions?”

Longwei raises his hand. “How do we communicate with each other?”

The marine nods stiffly. “Hold down the button on your shoulder.”

We each reach for it. After three seconds, helmets spawn from the fabric at our necks. I feel mine stretch over my forehead, and then a clear visor encases me inside the suit. My breath fogs in front of me. As always, Jazzy speaks what’s on everyone’s mind.

“This is amazing, y’all.”

“Totally,” Katsu chirps back through the comm. We all look like real astronauts now.

The marine asks us if there are any questions, but I can’t think of anything. We’re all still in the middle of the shock-and-awe stage. Katsu was right and wrong earlier. They aren’t letting us fly spaceships, but they are handing us the keys to million-dollar mining equipment. Babel’s trusting, but I guess they have to be. We’re their only shot at more nyxia.

After a short silence, the marine salutes us.

“Your first task is to excavate an operational tunnel. You will need to dig down to a depth of exactly one hundred and fifty meters. Good luck, soldiers.”

He vanishes into the mist. We snap into motion, but it’s a frantic and unsure kind of activity. We have no idea where to really begin, so we all huddle around the digital readouts and pretend we understand what they mean. The ground is vibrating in a steady rhythm with the truck’s engine. Longwei stands over the readout for a second and then pushes past us. He takes a handhold and begins climbing up the metal beams tented over the drill. When he reaches the top, he flips open a capsule and disappears inside.

“Why does he get to go in the drill?” I ask.

“I’m in the drill because I’m the best,” Longwei replies.

My eyes widen. I forgot about the helmet comm. Katsu laughs like an idiot at me. A few seconds later, the drill roars to life. We all watch the teeth spin with menace. It’s impossible to hear anything but each other now. Longwei’s voice pipes through again.

“Keep an eye on the readouts. If you see the gas pockets getting closer, say something.”

Hydraulics hiss and the drill plunges down into the earth. Mud peels out in slick strips and we watch the silver drill bit vanish. We gather around the readout and spot the white of our drill appear on the diagram. The very tip slices into the black-labeled nyxia, and behind us the sound grows to painful decibels. The whole world shakes.

When the drill’s halfway underground, I realize that this is very, very boring. There’s nothing for us to do but watch the little blips on the screen.

So we watch. For almost an hour. Once, we have to warn Longwei of a red pocket that’s growing five meters below and left of his current position. He presses a button that dispenses the gases and continues down. He’s ten meters away when another sound cuts through the deafening rumbles. The three of us whip around as a pair of dark forms slouch through the fog.

“We have company,” I say.

The screech of the drill lowers to a whine. Longwei asks, “What?”

“Monsters,” Jazzy says. “On the surface.”

The word monsters makes her sound like a little kid, but the things looming in our vision make me feel like a little kid. They are monsters. They move on all fours, their gait shuffling and drunken. The closer they get, the more muscle I can see in their chests and wide forearms. The closest thing I can think of in our world is a gorilla, but the word feels wrong. Instead of fur, they have diamond-shaped scales and daggered claws. Their shoulders come to jagged points, and their long tongues flicker from the deep pits of black mouths.

I’m the first to step away from the safety of our truck and toward the intruders. Focused on the image, I transform my nyxia into the shielded glove from the pit. A second manipulation forms in the shape of my jagged iron knuckles. I slide the weapons on as the animals lope toward our drill. A glance shows Jazzy walking in step with me. I’m not sure why I expected her to be afraid, but she’s got her chin raised and a weapon ready. Katsu stands frozen by the truck.

“Wake up, Katsu. We need your help.”

Heat’s flooding up from the hole Longwei’s cut into the ground. Smoke gathers and scatters as one of the beasts pauses by one of the supporting legs of our drill. It drives both clawed hands downward and the metal dents. The beast pounds again as the other stops, regarding us quietly. They’re just twenty meters away now. My steps continue closing the gap.

“Hey!” I shout. I don’t have a real plan, but if these things destroy one of our supports, I know the drill won’t be able to keep cutting to the depth we need. “Hey, over here!”

The other lizard’s attention swings, and it crosses the distance between us in a heartbeat. I slide right and let my jagged spikes rake across an exposed forearm. Most of the blow is turned away by the thick scales, but I catch skin at its elbow joint, and the beast roars with pain. Blood spits out, and I’m thrown to the side by a lowered shoulder. Jazzy screams and slashes her short sword down, severing the beast’s outstretched hand.

The monster roars again and is backing away as the second one darts forward. I block two blows with my off hand and then it lands one on my hip. And everything shatters. I feel bones rattle and the air leaves my lungs and I feel like I’m falling through the world. The animal roars as it towers over me, but a massive sword plunges up through its exposed chest. Katsu thrusts it fully in, dodging the frantic claws until the thing gasps, coughs a death rattle, and dies. We’re all panting, and I know I can’t move, not even to stand. I lie back in the dirt.

“Everything all right up there?” Longwei asks.

“Just keep drilling,” Katsu snaps.

The whirring of the drill picks up, and my pain doubles. I reach a hand down and groan at the slightest pressure. A strike from the creature dented metal. My bones don’t dent. The hip is shattered, and shards of it feel like they’ve been shot like bullets into the rest of my side.

“What do we do?” Katsu asks in panic. “Jazzy, what do we do?”

Jazzy is far calmer under pressure. A glance shows her running back for one of the med kits. The edges of my vision are blurring as the edges of my pain sharpen. This is the worst thing I have ever felt. Worse than my concussion last year. Worse than the broken noses I got playing football. Worse than all the dislocated shoulders I got ballin’ with PJ over the years. Jazzy yells something through the comm, but I can’t make out the words.

I feel everything shrinking away. And then it stops.

We trade dirt for rubber, misty fog for dangling wires. The Rabbit Room comes back into view, and my pain vanishes. The others come snapping back to reality with me. Defoe’s there with a pair of attendants. They disconnect the white cords and hand each of us a bucket.

“What’s this for?” Katsu asks.

“The brain and the body don’t always agree,” Defoe explains.

On cue, Jazzy vomits. Katsu drops to his knees and does the same. Longwei and I are staring at each other, faces tight, like this too is a competition of wills. Something punches me in the stomach; I feel the taste of it rise, and I break first. Longwei wins again, but the spoils of victory leave him hurling into a bucket too. The attendants provide us with towels and water bottles as the other team steps in to replace us.

Bilal offers a hand to me. “And I was hoping not to throw up today. You all right?”

“Yeah.” I’m still rubbing my hip bone. My brain can’t accept that it’s not shattered. I can feel the virtual reality dragging at my senses and stomach. I almost tell Bilal about the lizard-gorilla things, but catch myself. Why warn him? It’s his team versus our team. He’s watching me awkwardly, so I just say, “Good luck. It’s a little weird in there.”

He nods and joins the rest of his team. We’re ushered out of the way but allowed to watch from the back of the room. The white cords attach to their hosts, and soon all five of them are floating in midair. Did we float like that? I’m not even sure how it’s possible, but their hands are twitching and their legs walk them through that other world. They never move more than a few feet left or right, but it still looks a little frightening. Like watching human puppets on strings. Azima bends down and scoops a handful of invisible soil. Bilal points into the distance. It’s not hard to imagine his eyes lighting up as he sees the truck for the first time.

I watch for a while before leaning back and closing my eyes. For some reason, I feel more tired than I ever did in the Rabbit Room. Like my brain and body worked harder entering another reality than they did running through a physical obstacle course.

Our group stays quiet, and I actually manage to fall asleep before Katsu wakes me up and the others start snapping out of the simulator. Just like us, they vomit into buckets and stagger around drunkenly. It’s as miserable to watch as it was to feel.

Defoe announces, “Congratulations to team two. You reached the next stage five minutes faster than team one. The victory goes to you.”

My shoulders slump. I wonder if Roathy’s absence made the difference in round one. More likely Kaya was the deciding factor. We all expected Longwei to act like a leader, but he jumped in the drill and forgot about the rest of us. Usually, it’s the kind of problem I’d take to Kaya for help, but this is the one time she won’t be offering her advice, the one time our alliance is suspended. Azima starts to brag about their victory but ends up puking in the middle of her sentence. After that, both teams weave through the halls in silence.

The scoreboard looms on our left.

All eyes flicker over to it. Our daily reminder of success and failure:

The damage of the day isn’t awful. Third place and with a huge cushion over Isadora and Roathy. I remind myself that this is only the eleventh day of our voyage. The goal isn’t to get comfortable. It’s to work hard enough that if I’m the next one sick or hurt, I still won’t have to worry about falling out of the top eight. Knowing that’s the best advice I can give myself, I head back to the room after dinner and force myself to practice nyxia manipulations.

Faster, and faster, and faster. I push past my own limits so that when I do put my head down on my pillow, I fall instantly asleep.