Chapter 2 ~ Sixteen
Six months earlier
The sun was low on the horizon, a brilliant ball that seared Anna’s eyes when she looked right at it, even through the protective eyewear that wrapped around her face. Her goggles were an old model that didn’t have the increased UV blocking ability of the new ones. She had to make do. Her parents could barter for new ones from the traders, but that assumed they had something to sell beyond the two limp rabbits hanging from Anna’s belt. Her raysuit was a hand-me-down from her mother. Same story.
Anna turned her back to the setting sun and walked toward Nampa, the Burb she lived in. Twin moons greeted her. Viator, the larger one, was pale yellow from the thin wisps of its sulfuric atmosphere. Smaller Secutor was tinted light red from iron ore deposits on its surface. She could see the tallest building in her little town—three stories—and overwhelming the town’s silhouette, the Seever Dome. Its lower sections gleamed in the reflected sunlight, but partway up it was shrouded in fog. It was that way most of the year, because of the contrast between the cool air inside the Dome and the hot air outside. Anna thought of the Dome as a fairytale bubble that held castles in its mysterious interior.
She’d heard all the talk: Domers flew through the air, ate sweet fruit twice a day, never sweated, and only worked three hours a day. The thought of going there to experience these wonders was enticing. When an Import Team was scheduled to come to Nampa, it was all the young people could talk about. Who will be selected?
Maybe I’ll be Chosen. Maybe I’m meant for something more than chasing rabbits and picking cabbages.
She’d been thinking a lot about her future lately. Today was Anna’s sixteenth birthday. At the age of sixteen, girls and boys from the Burbs were eligible for Importation to the Dome. The down side was that it could mean leaving family and friends for life. Domers and Burbans didn’t travel the same social circles. They didn’t mix at all, except for a few people involved in trading goods. Anna’s world was the farming town.
What else is there? There has to be something else.
Anna had grown up with a close friend, Beth Raney. Beth was a few months older, but the girls were so inseparable that people referred to them by one name, Annabeth. Beth had been acting strange lately, whispering to others and giggling when Anna caught her.
Two possibilities. She’s planning a surprise party for me or she and Logan have Pledged.
Anna smiled. Or both.
Hurrying along the edges of cultivated fields, Anna was eager to be home. She’d been gone since dawn and didn’t have much to show for her day’s hunting.
The rabbits must be getting craftier, or the fields near Nampa are being over-hunted. I’ll have to go out further next time and hope the Devos don’t spot me. The family has to eat.
She patted her trim mid-section. She could hear her stomach growling, anticipating a better meal than the traveling food she’d eaten all day: small, dense fuel bars and water. Her shadow lengthened in front of her and the sun’s heat on her back lessened. Finally she set foot on the white-surfaced roads of the Burb, made that way to reflect heat. Cooking smells reached her from the chimney vents of the nearby squat, windowless homes with walls four feet thick. Anna waved to a few friends as she turned down Jewel Street, where she lived. Beth was nowhere to be seen. Anna smiled inside.
She came to the portal of her home, which was designed like all the rest. The sense of individuality came from colorful murals painted on the outside walls; all the family members contributed to make a unique home. As she always did, she patted the handprint she’d traced as a child. Her later artwork was much more sophisticated, but that splayed, red print done when she was about three years old always made her feel that she was home.
In the foyer, meant to trap hot air and keep it from penetrating further into the house, Anna paused while her eyes adjusted to the sudden change in light level. Usually there was a waxlight burning in the foyer to light the way in, but it had burned out, meaning no one was home. She fumbled in a small storage box, pulled out a waxlight and lit it with a flamer, a squat cylinder that generated a flame when the wheel on its side was repeatedly flicked. She settled the waxlight into its holder, resting her eyes on the gentle light, so pleasant after the outdoor glare.
The comforting, thick walls, with their inner layers of lead, minimized the UV radiation that Anna always pictured as arrows raining down on her from the sun. She took off her goggles and slipped out of her raysuit, hanging them on the peg with her name on it on the wall. Underneath she wore clothing of synthetic fabrics designed to cool the skin. A halter-top and shorts. At home everyone was casual, especially during the summer.
She stashed her weapons, the woomera and small darts she’d carried today, with the rest of the family’s armaments. The woomera was a primitive spear, arrow, or dart thrower that history said originated back on Earth. Anna didn’t care about the history of her weapon, just its effectiveness. Hers was a three-foot-long, hollowed-out wooden piece with a notch at one end to hold the dart weapon steady. Gripped at the un-notched end, a swing of the arm and flip of the wrist sent a pointed weapon flying faster and longer than the human arm could by itself—several times faster than a compound bow. Besides being a powerful extension of the human arm, a woomera also had a sharpened edge and point that served as a knife, and the hollowed section could carry food or mashed plants soaked with water that could be chewed on for hydration during longer treks. It was an all-purpose hunting and defense tool, and even a canteen when necessary.
Anna’s woomera was her own creation, handmade with decorative carvings. It was a beautiful piece of work and she loved the way it perfectly fit her hand. It had taken her several months to perfect its balance and appearance, and it was Anna’s favorite possession—not just because it allowed her to contribute food to her family, but because when she carried it, she wasn’t defenseless in a harsh world.
When she walked down several steps and opened the inner door, things were a little too quiet. She set a few waxlights burning as she went into the kitchen and deposited her rabbits into a cooler—Dome tech—where they would stay until prepared for a meal. She’d already gutted them. It felt cool to her inside, and it was—compared to the 115° at sunset outside. The thick walls, the fact that the house was set about three feet underground, the circulating air from ceiling fans, and the dim light all contributed to the effect. There was no artificially cooled air—that was Dome tech too. The Burbans were given just enough to make their lives bearable. The Hart family did have some Dome items they’d bartered for, but they were used sparingly. Why use a lamp when a waxlight would do?
In the family room, Anna thought of taking a nap until the rest of her family showed. She flopped into a low-slung chair and closed her eyes. She began to drift off to sleep.
“Happy Birthday!”
Anna heard the shout and sat up suddenly. Grouped around her were about a dozen people, their smiling faces lit by the small waxlights flickering on a cake. Her mother held the cake, with her father’s arm draped around her shoulder. Logan, Beth, Beth’s parents, and a mix of girls and boys from her school level were there: Mona, Harlen, Swirth, Peetra, Grady, and Wiary.
Beth came over and stood near Anna. Whispering in her ear, Beth said, “Happy Birthday! I heard that Wiary’s serious about you.”
Anna blinked. She looked over at Wiary, who was beaming widely at her, and gave him a tentative smile. Burban teens were supposed to hold off on romantic relationships until the Import Team had reviewed them after their sixteenth birthday. The reasoning was that if a girl or boy ended up Imported to the Dome, it made things easier if there were no romantic entanglements. Anna held to the rule, although it wasn’t for lack of interested boys.
Beth and Logan, on the other hand, made no secret of their affection for each other. Anna could see them now, holding hands and each other’s gaze. A bit of their love splashed into Anna’s awareness. She was empathic, although most of what sh
e perceived now consisted of confusing waves of emotion from others, with no ability to control or use her empathy. If she remained in Nampa, she would enter an evaluation course to see if she could become a professional healer. While medicine in the Dome was highly scientific and technological, in the Burbs, people accepted and made use of whatever methods worked.
Beth had told her that she and Logan felt that they would both be Imported or both left to live out their lives as Burbans. Either way, they could be together and get married. In the Dome, there would be a delay while they each satisfied their program opportunities, but that was all right. Anna tried to focus on Beth, and when she did, she caught a waiver of anxiety.
So there is doubt there.
“Anna, Logan’s ready. Come over and blow out the waxes,” her mother said.
Anna loved her mother’s name: Sapphire. It suited her: radiant, many-faceted, but with a blue color that spoke of inner sadness. She watched her mother limp across the room. Even in the warmth of their home, Sapphire wore long, flowing pants that reached nearly to her ankles; other women wore as little as possible for decency.
The pants hid the ugly scar that ran down Sapphire’s left leg from hip to mid-calf. She’d mangled that leg in a farming accident when she was fifteen years old. In a society where your next meal might depend on how hard you could work to find it, Sapphire did her best to carry a physical load. She gardened, raised her own family, and cared for babies so their young mothers could spend some time in the fields. She’d been turned down when it came time to be selected for importation to the Dome. Although Anna’s father Quint could have had his pick of the girls in the Burb, he’d fallen deeply in love with Sapphire. Patiently and lovingly, he’d helped the broken girl find her confidence again.
Anna looked over at her father, who had his back to her, his broad back that had shouldered more work than most Burban men, and done so gladly. Anna was so happy the two of them were together, and knew that while family was important to both of them, it was each other they orbited.
A new thought entered Anna’s mind. Maybe they’d been certain that their bright, healthy children would be Imported and they’d be spending the rest of their lives with only each other to love. No weddings, no grandchildren, just the special bond between the two of them. Have they been consciously planning for it? Preparing for separation, edging away from Logan and me just a little?
She didn’t have time to consider the question she’d raised. Her mother drew Anna to the table in front of the cake. Yellow flames danced atop the waxes on this, her most important birthday cake.
“Remember, you get three wishes,” Logan said. “Make one of them for me.”
Beth punched him in the arm.
Tears came to Anna’s eyes. She wanted to freeze this moment forever. The moment before the fork in the road, the choice that wasn’t her choice. For tonight, she just wanted to be surrounded by these people who loved her.
She was supposed to have her wishes chosen ahead of time, as a birthday tradition. Wishes made on the cusp between childhood and adulthood were thought to have special meaning. Now everything she’d considered vanished from her mind.
I wonder how many kids fake their wishes.
Logan signaled that he was finished making his wishes. The group looked at her expectantly. The waxes were starting to burn down and drip onto the cake.
Um, for Logan, my dumb twin brother, I wish that he will marry Beth.
For my parents, a long and happy life with good crops and plenty to eat.
For me, I want to discover what’s out there. And find true love! Oops, that’s four.
Anna took a deep breath and blew out more than her share of the shimmering waxlights.