By Cathy McCrumb

Aberrant Psi44126108-4127R

Hall of Reclamation, Location Undisclosed

Year 468

The best—and worst—thing I have ever done is lie to my beloved. The right and wrong of that falsehood swirl into a whirlpool of white and black, and I shall drown in the engulfing grey.

My stasis tank thrums, and when I blink, my lashes drag through the translucent, green medgel. I draw in a thick, liquid breath.

Memory flashes, jagged as lightning, clear as pure water.

While the Elders’ jellyfish-like drones stretch their snaking tendrils to encircle my neck and wrists, I kiss him one last time. “I love you. Always.”

They pull us apart, and he calls, “I’ll find you.”

And I lie. “I know.”

Surely, he believes me?

My falsehood contains a grain of truth. When my sentencing is complete and all that remains of this hollow shell is naught but raw elements, at the end of things physical and temporal, I believe I will see him once more.

He stands in the library’s narrow halls, shadowed by the shelves that extend toward the ceiling. Wavy locks as dark as a raven’s wing escape his thick braid, and his lips move while he reads from a small, pale book. He glances up at me, then slides it back.

My observation drone wraps a tendril around my neck. I obediently resume pulling items slated for destruction, including his small book. Time has cracked the leather binding and faded the gilt letters on the spine, but I open it carefully and trace my fingers over the words. Poetry, ancient beyond our colony’s founding. Anger and fear, love and longing, joy and prayer tumble from the pages. My heart catches them.

The drone taps my cheek. I deposit the book in my cart, but its images dance in my mind.

The Elders find betrayal in love and faith. Perhaps they are correct, for I will renounce neither.

I am glad I lied.

The tank jolts. Medgel sloshes, and my eyes fly open to luminescent green. They will unravel me, piece by piece, before the end. My skin prickles before nanodevices drag me into unconsciousness.

The consequences of our choices cannot be erased.

While my drone charges and everyone sleeps, I steal through the empty library, my gray tunic blending into the shadows. The pale book remains where I had hidden it, and I cradle it to my chest. Whether it holds no value as the Elders insist or it contains a truth too bright, its beauty must not be lost.

I tuck the book between the cushions of his favorite seat, in the corner near the ferns.

Light flickers against my closed eyelids. How long has it been? Breathing the gel in and out is painful, more difficult, as if a single lung—

Oh—

My unraveling has begun, and I will serve that others will live.

Then, the ancient words he and I had read surface in my mind to hold fear at bay.

Help my unbelief.

I sneak from my quarters to the library’s rooftop to escape my drone unobserved. New Triton’s moon shines dimly through the city’s dome. Behind me, mechanical ductwork thrums.

“You’re the one who left the book, aren’t you?”

My hand flutters to my throat, and I stagger back. He dashes from the shadows, catching me before I trip.

His unbound hair tumbles over deep brown eyes rimmed with black lashes. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I know.” I have the temerity to push a dark lock from his face.

His smile blooms; mine answers.

I draw a deep breath and tell him a secret I should not have. I tell him my name.

My back burns as if the skin has been stripped away.

Panic claws me with long, spider-like fingers, and I shudder. The movement flails my raw back, and wisps of red tinge the green before the nanites purge it, for specimen tanks must be kept clear. Hot tears vanish into the cool gel. I gulp it down, praying that he never knows, that he cannot blame himself for any of this. Praying to the God the Elders deny that the nanodevices work their magic and numb the pain.

He waits for me, as always, in the shadows, and we read together. Psalms, sonnets, essays. My head on his shoulder, his voice like music. He sets the book down and trails gentle fingertips down my neck.

Kissing him is drinking starlight until knife-like guilt stabs me. I push away. “If they discover—”

“Then come away with me.” He cups my face in strong hands. “We’ll take a transport to the inner belt. We’ll disappear. Together.”

I search his eyes. Hope and love shine like daylight.

 I say, “Yes.”

My tank jolts, raking my back’s naked muscles.

The ceiling travels past, but heaviness drags my eyelids closed. Nerves tingle and go numb. I cannot stay awake.

He meets me behind the library with a wig and a lavender tunic to replace my uniform. I pull them on. He brushes a kiss on my forehead, but footsteps and the whine of drones echo in the alleyway.

I grab his hand, and we run. Our boots pound the pavement, and my pulse thunders. Drones and Elders race toward us, closing in.

I kiss him one last time. My words spill free. “I love you. Always.”

They yank me from his arms.

It is dark. So dark. I cannot blink, can no longer weep. My eyes…

Panic slams into me, stealing comfort from my memories as they have stolen my tears.

“I’ll find you.”

“I know.”

The tank jerks again, and gel sloshes in slow motion. They will unravel me into nothing.

Viscous liquid clogs my throat. My back arcs as my heart cries for my forgiveness and his protection.

Then, near-tangible quiet washes over me, more present than the gel, penetrating even the omnipresent dark. Faith and love are not mistakes.

Inaudible words resonate in my bones. “Peace. I am with you.”

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Cathy McCrumb graduated from Biola University with a degree in English Literature and a love for stories. Her Children of the Consortium trilogy released to critical acclaim, and Guardian won both the 2025 Realm Award for Science Fiction and Book of the Year. Long walks in forests, berries with cream, and crocheting while watching movies with friends and family are some of her favorite things. Most of her imaginary friends are nice people.

---

More Stories | Author Website | Facebook | Instagram