Gray. My entire world is gray. The foliage is dead, and the sky’s covered with a cloud of pollution. The factories, the prison buildings, our radiation-resistant uniforms. Even our skin is gray from malnutrition and lack of sun.
I adjust the mask pressed against my face and step off the bus from the women’s penitentiary, following the line of other prisoners toward the factory.
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Finlay’s alarm blared at eight a.m. ship’s time, waking him from another dream about Alaia. He opened his eyes to a room flooded with cold light. The stale, chilly air of the ship filled his lungs, and the distant engines whirred sharply.
For one moment, he still felt her arms around him.
Amara hummed as she worked in her tiny lab, her makeshift greenhouse tucked into a corner of the roof of the industrial complex. She remembered reading about a study done many years ago on the positive effects of music on plants. What must it have been like back then to have so many plants to study?
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I shambled to the mailbox on day 37 of the most boring summer ever. “1000 FREE MINUTES!” the little, blue, compact disk screamed. It looked like a dozen other disks we’d received in the mail and subsequently relegated to coasters. I’d seen disks offering 100 minutes, 400 minutes, and even 750 minutes of free internet access, but I’d never seen an offer for 1000 free minutes. This was going to change my life.
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I hated to see myself.
It happened from time to time. Living in the ruins of an old mall, there were bound to be a few mirrors around. Granted, I didn’t have much use for department stores anymore—I’d already raided most of the men’s departments for practical clothing
I stiffen as the mold tightens around my body, compressing it into a different shape. My breath comes hot and fast. It’s not like I was wearing my own skin anyway, but that doesn’t stop me from panicking. My mold is in Vernon’s safe, locked away for when I have further use of it—meaning when I stop working for him. Which, at this rate, may be never.
The mold cracks open. I’m free and wearing a different skin.
“Come with me.” The officer doesn’t even blink.
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I hopped onto the bus with music still bouncing through the wires in the back of my head. The hydraulic hiss of the door cut off the cries of the doctors running to catch me. I waved at them as the bus pulled out and joined the flood of neon San Diego traffic under the rose gold sky.
The visual should have been concerning, but, hopped up as I was, the pearl white road and amber horizon seemed more or less normal. People ogled me with dark faces rimmed in blues and reds.
My heart is pounding, a steady reminder that any misstep could destroy everything. There’s nothing for me outside; my value is here now. I can’t tear my eyes from the beautiful people that fill the room. My breath hitches in my chest. I tighten my fist around the drive carrying my invitation. It’s all that keeps me from questioning my presence. Everything around me is the height of popularity.
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“What the hell are you doing here?”
Neal was surprised that Lena, who was staring down his reflection in the vanity’s mirror, hadn’t asked the more obvious question: why was Neal aiming the gun at her back? Or maybe it was the right question; he still hadn’t pulled the trigger.
I wound my way through octahedron-shaped tables occupied by a variety of alien species and approached the only other human in the bar. “Fancy meeting you here, Flynn.”
As soon as his hazel eyes rested on me, I wished I’d dressed cuter than corporate casual. And taken more care with my hair and makeup.
Melvin pulled two ties from his closet and held them up in front of the mirror. He’d been single for so long, it was hard to believe he’d connected with Sophie as well as he had.
“Lexi, search restaurants near me.”
The beauty of a Wednesday night date was that last minute reservations were possible.
Bombs fell.
Comtrak dove for cover, barely in time. Tiran disintegrated into pink mist. The blood sprayed on Comtrak’s fur. As he crawled toward where his brother had stood, his ears rang with the sound of the blasts and gunfire. Another mortar exploded next to him.
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