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Chapter 3

“Charleston, please pay attention,” Professor Slive requested sternly, though nothing in his tone sounded as if he was asking. Slive had a way of using polite words in impolite ways. “This is the second time I’ve caught you daydreaming,” their History and Culture professor chastised, his feigned disappointment not enough to conceal the glee he felt reprimanding Charleston in front of the others.

Charleston began tapping his foot. He hadn’t been daydreaming. He had been staring out of the glass dome of their classroom. Staring, but not seeing, not the empty sky, nor the few wispy clouds doing little to break its monotony, nor the gleaming spherical shapes of Farm Dome jutting out of Farm Branch above them like perfect circular leaves. No, he was replaying the melee in his head while trying his best to ignore the ringing in his ears and the knot of pain that refused to give up residence behind his right ear. Even regen nanos took time to heal concussions.

They had won, thankfully, but not before Naima, the girl who’d ran, had nearly crushed his skull in with a rock. She’d managed to follow Charleston and the others at a distance until they’d reached New York. First, she’d ambushed the limping Jax, then snuck up on him. But she hadn’t been fast enough to surprise Arkhangelsk, who easily defeated the slight girl.

They were a team and it was a team victory, but Charleston was more than a little embarrassed at the way Naima had defeated him. Regen nanos did nothing for shame. And, on top of that, he had to deal with an even more unbearable Arkhangelsk gloating about her success and rubbing in how she had saved him. It hadn’t been a good few days. Even fast approaching Founder’s Day and their annual trip to City Dome hadn’t brightened his mood any.

“Surely even you, with all your obvious limitations, haven’t forgotten it’s almost Test Day,” Slive continued.

Charleston felt his stomach drop. The Test each of them had to pass in order to determine their Purpose in the Collective usually didn’t make him feel this way. He couldn’t wait to find out his future role. He would finally be what he’d always dreamed of…a member of the Dome Guard helping protect New Washington.

At least, that’s how he had felt before the last melee. His confidence was shaken over his loss. And even worse, Arkhangelsk’s harsh words about his rushing in to be a hero played on a loop in his head. He couldn’t stop thinking that had he just taken a more cautious approach in the last fight, Naima never would’ve snuck up on him. He didn’t know why he was so impulsive. Would the Dome Guard really take someone who couldn’t be relied on to control himself? He needed to talk with Professor Duman, their Mindfulness and Maturity professor, about this.

“The Collective is counting on you,” Slive continued, as if reading Charleston’s insecurities and zeroing in for the kill. It was a funny enough image that Charleston almost smiled. As cruel and mean as Slive was, he was not particularly imposing. He was a bit on the heavy side, with wide eyes and a face that looked like the blade of a shovel, his mouth a too red slit. Charleston had dubbed him Frog Face. “Counting on all of you,” Slive added, sweeping the class with a stern look. “Each of you must fulfill an important purpose in support of the Collective, or New Washington will grind to a halt.” Slive, more than any of their professors, never missed a chance to remind the podlings of the importance of their Purpose, of the Collective, of the Founder. He seemed to revel in the added stress this brought to the children.

Jax caught Charleston’s eye and mouthed, “blah, blah, blah.” Charleston fought back a smile, grateful for his friend’s silliness.

“Would the Founder have allowed himself to daydream in a class as important as History and Culture?” Slive continued, as if on cue, leveling his glare once again at Charleston. Then he stopped talking. He actually expected Charleston to respond.

“No, of course not. My apologies, sir,” Charleston answered with the formality Slive expected from his students. He was an unforgiving teacher and had taken a particular dislike to Charleston. The boy didn’t know why. Charleston loved the Founder and New Washington as much as the next podling. He just couldn’t bring himself to enjoy learning about the history and cultures of the Old World, or in memorizing all the dates and details of the beginnings of New Washington. Every time he tried, his mind would find something more interesting to think about.

And besides, what good would any of those ancient facts do him once he was in the Dome Guard? If he even made the Dome Guard, he thought with a now familiar sinking feeling. His thoughts had once again spiraled back into negativity. Professor Duman had taught them to be aware of their feelings, but if you couldn’t change how you felt, what was the point?

“Now, if you could please answer my question,” Professor Slive continued.

Charleston’s stomach sank even further and he began fidgeting with his holoscreen. He dredged through his subconscious for any hint of what the question could be as his fingers worked. They’d been discussing the Council of Nine, the ruling group of New America, but that was all he could come up with.

Charleston sighed. “I’m sorry, sir, but could you repeat the question please?”

“Perhaps one of your more attentive podmates would like to answer?” Slive replied, his voice tinged with a delighted spite. “And stop that fidgeting!”

Charleston’s face went red and his hands stilled. He hadn’t even realized he had been.

A flash out of the corner of his eye drew his attention away from Slive. It was Arkhangelsk, all too eager to show him up and add to his embarrassment.

“Arkhangelsk,” Slive nodded approvingly.

“The other eight domes that make up New America are located across what is left of the United States and Canada,” she began confidently. “In the order in which they were founded, after New Washington, of course,” she smiled a small smile at this for some reason, “there is New Colorado, New Wyoming, New Montana, New Toronto, New Minnesota, New Nebraska, New Quebec, and New Ontario.”

“Very good,” Professor Slive replied.

Arkhangelsk shot Charleston a gloating look, her blue eyes glittering. He looked at Jax, who was rolling his eyes so hard, Charleston thought he might lose them in the back of his head.

“Now, as you all surely know from the reading,” Slive continued, his voice dripping with condescension, “the founding of New Washington and the other eight domes led to the formation of the Collective and the creation of the Council of Nine, which is traditionally considered by historians to mark the official end of the Time of Troubles. Can anyone tell me why this is so?”

Savannah and New York both raised their hands, but Slive called on Arkhangelsk again.

“The formation of the Collective meant enough domes had been built to provide shelter for the survivors of the extinction. The creation of the Council of Nine, meanwhile, signified the reestablishment of law and order. In particular, the Council’s creation of the Test to determine each member’s Purpose gave the first citizens of New America the much needed structure and meaning that had been missing since the end of religion. It was this meaning, more than anything, other than perhaps the physical protection the domes provided them, that helped our ancestors survive the sixth extinction and the Time of Troubles.”

“Excellent!” Professor Slive said, his wide face flattening in what passed for a smile.

Arkhangelsk beamed, while Charleston tried not to look at Jacksonville anymore. His friend was feigning vomiting and Charleston didn’t think he could stop himself from laughing much longer. Thank the Founder Jax loved making people laugh. It was the only thing distracting Charleston from his dark thoughts.

“Now,” Slive continued, “how did the Council enforce law and…”

“Excuse me, sir,” Charleston interrupted, raising his hand. “I still don’t understand how proving god doesn’t exist led to the Time of Troubles.” He would usually just ask Savannah after class since she knew all the answers, but he felt an irrational need to poke back at Slive for embarrassing him.

Professor Slive gave Charleston a baleful look, his lips compressing to a thin line that only accentuated his resemblance to a frog. “Did you not do the reading?” he asked frostily.

“Yes, sir, but…”

“Then you should know why,” Slive said with another smirk. “Though perhaps one of our more gifted students can explain it to you.”

Savannah and New York raised their hands, along with Arkhangelsk and Sofia. Slive looked around the room, then called on the latter. Sofia was a quiet girl, with a heart-shaped face framed with short blonde hair and a nose too big for it. “The people of old Earth’s belief in a god was their source of morality and, largely, law. Their entire lives were built on religion and this belief. When society advanced enough to realize the artificial nature of god, many people abandoned their god-based morality and the laws that came with it and went the other direction. They sought to fulfill every base desire they possessed. Thus,” she said with a wave of her hand, “chaos.”

Charleston was impressed. Maybe Savannah wouldn’t be the only one who would have her pick of Purpose in New Washington.

“Yes,” Professor Slive agreed, though not as effusively as he had when Arkhangelsk had answered. “The people of old Earth eventually came to understand the concept of god was a social construct created by humans out of a need to explain the unexplainable, to alleviate the fear of death, and to control each other. Disconnecting one’s morality from one’s belief system is a difficult, oftentimes dangerous thing, but it wasn’t this alone that caused the Time of Troubles. No, this, coupled with the slow unraveling and eventual destruction of the world as our ancestors knew it due to global warming, sent society spiraling into a thing governed by chaos and desire. Remember podlings,” Slive continued, infusing the word with arrogant contempt, “society needs rules and structure, which gets us back to my original question before you interrupted me,” Slive said pointedly. “How did the Council enforce law and…”

“But where did the law the Council enforced come from?” Charleston interrupted again. “If Old World morality was abandoned, what replaced it?”

Professor Slive’s face darkened and he glared at Charleston. “Again,” he began acidly, “if you had done the reading…”

“The codex Jonathan Stiles composed,” Sofia answered, “has many similarities to the religion-based morality of the Old World, just without all that god stuff.”

“The codex,” Savannah spoke up, no longer waiting for Slive to call on her, “holds the inviolability and sanctity of New Washington and the other domes as its central tenet. The Collective came to replace god. All laws were made with this in mind and many were similar to those found in the Old World. Murder now is just as illegal as murder was then, but not because of some higher power, but because the Collective’s rights and safety must be preserved.”

“Silence!” Professor Slive shouted, slapping the lectern in front of him. The class went immediately quiet. Savannah and Sofia both looked quickly down at their holoscreens.

“This is my classroom and I will not have you children hijack my lesson!” he seethed, looking from podling to podling for any challenges. “Now,” he continued in a slightly calmer voice, “I will ask you once more. How did the Council enforce law and…”

Charleston quit listening. He knew he shouldn’t. He would have to recite back all this information, and then some, for the Test. If he couldn’t, then he would fail and who knew what would happen. Certainly nothing good. But Slive was just so boring. His monotone voice and lack of passion made it difficult for Charleston to stay awake sometimes, much less pay attention. And he really did have a hard time seeing what the Time of Troubles had to do with him. It was so long ago. Of course people back then were more barbaric. They lived in a civilized world now. Not to mention his throbbing head. He pinched his eyes shut with his thumb and forefinger and tried to focus the way Professor Duman was teaching them. If he could picture the flame, maybe the ache would diminish.

“Charleston!” Professor Slive’s voice jarred him from his meditation. “Do I dare even ask you to answer my question?”

Before Charleston could respond, the walls and ceiling were filled with an image of an endless white beach, waves foaming and crashing to the shore. Slive looked perturbed at this interruption, as he did each time the clear glass changed to reveal a representation of some part of old Earth to signal class was over.

“That’s the second time I’ve caught you daydreaming,” Slive said, silencing the children as they gathered up their things. His frogeyes were slits and the corners of his mouth twitched up in the beginning of a smirk as he glared at Charleston. “Congratulations. You have just earned an hour in Detention Dome. You will write an essay on the importance of history in understanding contemporary society.”

“But we have Mindfulness and Maturity class after this,” Charleston protested lamely.

“Then perhaps you ought to learn to pay attention to your betters,” Slive replied smugly, “particularly when they are trying to educate you, despite the likelihood of success.” Slive paused, daring someone else to speak. The others all avoided his gaze, looking uncomfortable and embarrassed at Slive’s cruel pettiness. “Class dismissed,” he finally said.

There was a clamor as chairs were pushed back and holoscreens gathered, but no one spoke yet, everyone still fearful of Slive’s anger. Once in the hall, New York and Savannah were immediately by Charleston’s side.

“What were you thinking interrupting Professor Slive, Char?” Savannah asked, whispering for some reason, her earnest face contorted in concern. “You know he has it in for you! Why give him another reason?”

“He’s a bully,” New York answered before Charleston could respond.

“He’s our professor!”

“He’s still a bully.”

“That’s not the point,” Savannah said. “He has all the power. We have none. It’s not a fight you can win, Char. Why continue to engage?”

Charleston sighed and ran his hand over his closely cropped head. Savannah was so logical about everything. “I can’t help it,” he growled. “Frog Face has never liked me, or anyone other than Arkhangelsk, and I think he likes her only because she hates me. Her answer wasn’t even that good compared to Sofia’s and he was all, ‘very good my pet,’” Charleston said in a high-pitched, lisping voice.

“Is that what you think a frog sounds like?” New York asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Nice job today, Les,” Charleston heard from behind him before he could respond to New York’s teasing. He turned, knowing without looking that Arkhangelsk was standing there smirking her stupid smirk. Arizona was standing just behind her, smirking an even stupider smirk. “You did almost as well as in the melee.” Arizona snickered.

“Shut up,” Charleston snapped weakly. “You’re a kiss-ass.”

“Warning, language!” a robotic voice blared over their heads, followed by a single ping. It was Apu, short for Automatic Parenting Unit, a small metal orb with a single blue eye that was programmed to monitor the children’s behavior. It did so from various stations throughout Podkind Dome. Until you received more than a warning. Then, it would fly from its alcove in the ceiling or wall and put a stop to whatever no good you were up to, blue arms of energy physically doing so if necessary.

“I can’t help it I’m smarter than you, Les,” she said with poorly feigned regret. “And more likeable. And better at combat. What are you good at, Les?”

“Whatever, Angel,” was all he could manage.

Arkhangelsk’s face reddened and she took a step towards Charleston. “Don’t call me that!” she spat.

“What’s the matter, Angel?” New York chimed in, all innocence. “It’s a beautiful name. Really captures your inner soul.”

“I don’t have a soul!” Arkhangelsk shouted, taking another step forward and shifting into a fighting stance.

“Enough already,” a voice interrupted. It was Professor Manfred, their Science and Technology professor, on her way to class with Blue Pod. She was well liked by her students and returned the sentiment, unlike Slive. “Don’t you two ever get tired of provoking one another?”

“Yes, Professor Manfred,” Arkhangelsk said, calming immediately and smiling. “It won’t happen again.”

Manfred raised an eyebrow. She was a tall, thin woman with long black hair and an angular, hard face. “You don’t say?”

Arkhangelsk looked down at her feet, appearing properly chastised. “Thank you for your guidance Professor Manfred. Such attention humbles me. I sincerely apologize.”

Charleston tried to hide his disgust at Arkhangelsk’s sudden transformation. She was like two different people sometimes.

“Don’t be a kiss-ass,” Manfred said, patting Arkhangelsk’s cheek. “You’re better than that.”

“Warning, language!” Apu said again.

“Oh, shut it,” Manfred snapped at the orb. “And you, Charleston,” she said, turning her scowl on him. “I assume you claim innocence?”

“No, Professor Manfred,” Charleston said, looking down too. “I apologize.”

Manfred continued to look at Charleston, as if deciding if she should press the point with him. Instead, she sighed. “Be about your business,” she finally said and walked down the hall away from them.

The two groups of children set off in opposite directions. Arkhangelsk glowered once more at Charleston as she disappeared from view, the veneer of humility and repentance gone.

“Why do you think it bothers her so much to be called Angel?”

“Because it runs so contrary to her nature,” Savannah quickly replied. “She prefers Demon.”

New York and Charleston both laughed, the remaining tension quickly disappearing, then went their separate ways. New York and Savannah hurried to Mindfulness and Maturity class and Charleston set off in the opposite direction to serve his detention on the other side of campus, which occupied the very center of Podkind Dome, or Pod Dome for short.

He passed the cafeteria and the gym on his way down one of the tree-lined pathways that crisscrossed campus. Interspersed between the various buildings were parks and open spaces. Spanning the length of each corridor hung huge glass flowerbeds where plants and trees of all varieties stretched up towards the domed ceiling above. The beds were suspended ten feet in the air and were miniature ecosystems, with insects and small animals making homes in them. In many places branches and vines spilled out over the sides to hang down towards the dome floor below.

Beyond campus were their professors’ homes and further still was a large forest, complete with a stream and various hidden glades. Everything had been carefully designed and constructed to give the podlings a sense that they lived anywhere other than an enclosed glass cage, cut off from the elements raging across the ravaged planet.

Charleston arrived at the all-too-familiar Detention Dome a short while later. It was a small room consisting of individual chairs with a retractable desktop attached to them. Charleston sat awkwardly in the chair closest to the door. Apu disengaged from its place in the ceiling above and flew up to hover before him, the blue light of its single eye causing him to squint uncomfortably.

Charleston listened as Apu began reciting his punishment. “You will write an essay on the importance of history in understanding contemporary society,” it said, repeating back word-for-word Slive’s assignment for him. It wasn’t the same orb that had been present in the classroom of course, but each physical orb was an extension of the actual Apu, an artificially intelligent super computer housed in an undisclosed location. What one orb witnessed or heard was known to each orb instantaneously.

Charleston sighed and took out his holoscreen and holopen and began writing. Sixty tedious minutes later, he’d submitted his essay and was climbing hand over hand up a vine hanging from the nearest flower bed that ran the length of the main hallway. Whenever he had the time, he preferred using the giant beds to move about Pod Dome. He loved the feel of the dirt and the smell of the plants and trees, all descendants from seeds brought here from before the extinction. He was fascinated by old Earth, but not by its culture or history. Rather it was the earth itself, the actual land, the dirt, the terrain, all of it, that was so intriguing. He couldn’t believe their ancestors had taken it for granted to the point of destroying it.

Mindfulness and Maturity class would be over soon, he reasoned as he made his way through the tangled underbrush and trees of the hanging flower bed. Might as well head to Podkind Forest and their fort, where he and his friends always met after class. The forest was huge, easily making up a quarter of Pod Dome. And it was dense. Just a few feet from the tree line you lost sight of everything but the old oak trees, gnarled and sprawling around you, and the moss and rock covered ground rising and falling in hills and ravines. The sun filtered down sporadically through leaves and branches, and sounds of birds and insects filled your ears. It was easy to forget you were in a dome. Which was the point. Well, that and to produce oxygen for New Washington’s inhabitants.

Charleston and his friends had been exploring and playing in Podkind Forest almost since they could walk. Several years ago they’d found a place where the stream cascaded down several large boulders. They’d built a wooden fort from fallen logs and branches at the top of the waterfall. With each passing year, they added to it. It now had several rooms, a lookout tower, and even an underground tunnel that opened out in a clearing some distance from the fort itself. They were immensely proud of themselves. Of late, however, they were using it more and more as an alternative place to study for their Test, rather than a place to have fun. Still, he always felt a rush of pride when he saw what they had built.

He was turning onto the final stretch of flower bed leading to the edge of campus when he heard voices approaching from the path below him. They were muffled, but grew louder as they drew nearer. He thought he recognized Professor Manfred’s voice. He didn’t know who the other speaker was, though he could tell it was a man.

“So, the rumors are true,” Manfred said in a tone Charleston had never heard from her before. “They’ve found a way to interfere with our computers.”

Isn’t she supposed to be in class? Charleston thought.

“I’m afraid so,” the male voice responded. “Obviously, we want to know how they managed this and what steps we can take to prevent another such occurrence.”

“And you say the war suits simply shut down?” Manfred asked.

“Turned right off,” her interlocutor replied. “We lost two good soldiers.”

Charleston tried to make sense of what he was hearing. War suits meant a patrol to the surface, but who would attack one of those? More baffling was how. War suits were nearly invulnerable.

“It would help if we knew what kind of device, if any, was used,” Manfred said, her tone changing from worry to curiosity at this unheard of thing and the technological puzzle it presented. “In theory, it would be possible to send some kind of electromagnetic pulse that would interfere with the computer in the suit, but they have built-in defenses against such attacks. Whoever did this would have to have known how to bypass those defenses.”

“And that’s top secret information,” the man added. “Not too many people know or understand the technology that goes into war suits.”

Both were silent a moment. “You think it’s someone on the inside?” Manfred finally gave voice to what this fact suggested.

The two voices had reached a turn in the hallway below and were beginning to recede in the other direction. Charleston crept back the way he’d come to hear better.

“I don’t want to make any assumptions,” the man answered.

“That’s for the best,” Manfred replied, and Charleston could hear the teacher in her voice once more. “I won’t know for certain what caused the shut-down until I examine the suits themselves.”

“That’s another problem,” the male voice responded. “They took the suits.”

This comment was met with silence.

“Yes, that is alarming,” she finally replied, her voice moving further out of Charleston’s hearing. “And this is the second attack?” she asked a moment later.

Whatever response the man gave her, however, was too far away for Charleston to make out. He could no longer keep up with the pair through the thicket of trees and bushes in the flower bed.

Charleston turned and headed back towards Podkind Forest, his mind churning. He couldn’t believe what he’d overheard. Someone had attacked one of the patrols on the surface. Twice! Who would dare do such a thing? Surely it wasn’t someone from New Washington, inside information or not. But it’d been more than a thousand years since the last Dome War and the Treaty of New Berlin. More than a thousand years of peace among the remaining dome nations. Risking that peace to steal some war suits was crazy. But was it crazier than someone from the Collective attacking…the Collective?

He clambered out of the flower bed and set off at a run. He couldn’t wait to tell the others.

 

Chapter 4

Charleston reached the fort a few minutes later and grabbed one of the axes from the main room. Chopping wood was like doing a kata – physically exhausting and mind clearing. He did some of his best thinking splitting firewood. And he had a lot to think about.

Like who could’ve attacked a patrol in war suits? For the second time? And why? And what did it all mean? Was it another dome war? Or worse. Was it someone from the Collective? Were they in danger?

As he settled into the rhythm of placing the wood, taking aim, and swinging the axe, all his questions began fading into the background. With each satisfying thunk and clamor of wood flying, his mind grew more and more calm until he was thinking of nothing but the wood and the axe.

Despite the considerable advancements in technology since the extinction, including hand-held lasers that could easily cut a clean line through stone, much less wood, the podlings weren’t allowed to use any of it outside of Science and Technology class. Hence the axe. No matter who they asked the answer was always the same, though the reasons given were as varied as they were unsatisfactory – they were too young to be trusted with such dangerous items, or they needed to master simpler tools before learning how to use the more complex ones, or because I said so. They were left to shrug in confusion, wondering why they had to use such primitive items in a world where just about everything was automated.

Either way, Charleston had grown to love chopping wood. It was peaceful in its violence.

He didn’t know how much time had passed when he made out the faint sounds of the others approaching through the forest. By the look of the pile of split wood, it hadn’t been too long. He returned the axe to its place and wiped the sweat from his face. He then went to meet them by the firepit that sat just in front of the fort’s entrance. The stream bubbled and sang to his left. Shadows from the descending sun stretched across the rocks and trees around him. “Took you long enough,” he said as New York, Savannah, and Jacksonville emerged from the trees and joined him at the firepit. “I heard you coming five minutes ago.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” New York replied, his brown face grimacing. “You may not have noticed, but I’m on one foot here.” He indicated his injured knee. The regen nanos had healed it enough for him to walk, but it would be another day before he was back to normal. “Looks like your head is all better,” he added, jutting his chin at the pile of split wood.

Charleston shrugged. He’d forgotten all about his concussion. Now that New York mentioned it, though, he felt the dull ache returning. “How was Mindfulness and Maturity class?” he asked. “Did Professor Duman say anything about my absence?”

When little, the Podkind had been terrified of Duman. He was a short, stocky man with a scar that began somewhere in his red hair and ran a deep gash down the left side of his face before disappearing in his thick red beard. It looked as if someone had ripped his face from the corner of his mouth all the way up to the top of his skull with a giant fishhook in a failed effort to reel him in. They had called him Scarface and had imagined one terrifying scenario after another to explain it. But Duman had a gift for interacting with children, and he was quickly able to dispel their fears with his easy-going nature and genuine interest in each of them. To Charleston, talking with Professor Duman felt more like talking with one of his parental core than with a professor.

“No, he didn’t say anything,” Jacksonville answered the second question first as he joined Charleston by the firepit. His wounds had almost completely healed – three broken ribs and a bruised kidney – though a faint blue glow from the regen nanos could still be seen under his shirt.

“And we just talked more about transcendence,” New York said, his tone one of frustration.

Charleston laughed. “I’m not too upset I missed that,” he replied dryly. He still remembered the first day Professor Duman had introduced the idea of transcendence. Even after Duman had explained its meaning, Charleston hadn’t understood it. And when Duman had used a candle to walk them through the concept of focusing one’s mind to go beyond one’s physical state, Dublin had fallen asleep and farted really loudly. The entire class had erupted in laughter.

Still, they had kept at it, staring into the candle flame class after class, trying not to fall asleep. It had taken them weeks of practice before Charleston even understood what Duman meant by transcendence and he was still struggling to master it.

“You both need to take Professor Duman’s class more seriously,” Savannah said now as she sat down by the cold firepit, her dark brows knit. Whatever injury had knocked her out in the melee was all healed up now. “It’s going to be on the Test.”

Charleston and New York both sighed. “That doesn’t make what he teaches any easier to understand,” the large boy said.

“Yes, but…” Savannah began, but Charleston interrupted her before she could start another lecture on the importance of studying.

“Listen to what I overheard in the hall on my way from detention,” he began excitedly. He recounted what Professor Manfred and the unknown man had said. When he was finished, his friends sat silent, stunned at the news and trying to process its significance.

“How is that even possible?” New York was the first to ask. “War suits are made from peresilium!”

Peresilium was an alloy developed by the Founder, Jonathan Stiles, with metals he mined from a passing meteoroid. It was extremely light-weight, flexible, and nearly indestructible. It was what the whole of New Washington was made from and what allowed the raised domes to survive the elements. Without it, humans wouldn’t have survived the sixth extinction.

“Neither seemed to know. Professor Manfred did mention some kind of electromagnetic thingy,” Charleston replied.

“But wouldn’t that affect their own war suits?” Jacksonville asked. “How did they manage to shut down just our own, but not theirs?”

“And who would attack us in the first place?”

“Professor Manfred seemed to think it could be someone from the Collective!” Charleston answered, voice filled with equal parts excitement and fear.

His three friends stared at him, a reflection of his own mixed feelings.

“No way,” New York finally said.

“Not possible,” Jax added, just as certain.

“I’m sure the Council and the Dome Guard are taking care of it,” Savannah said brusquely. “We need to study.”

“I overhear the juiciest gossip in, like, forever, and you don’t even want to talk about it?” Charleston asked in disbelief. “And what does it mean if it’s someone from the Collective? That’s, that’s…” he couldn’t find the words to express what such a reality would mean for them.

“Not possible,” New York replied before Savannah could.

“No way,” Jax added.

“Whatever happened, it doesn’t matter to us right here and now,” she stated confidently. Whatever timidity she demonstrated on the battlefield never manifested itself in their schoolwork. “You have to focus on what you can control, not what you can’t,” she said, quoting Professor Duman. “We can’t do anything about it. We don’t know any of the real details. It isn’t going to stop us taking the Test. It doesn’t mean we can study less. Or be less prepared. And, finally,” she finished, sounding tired from her long list of reasons, “the Council will deal with it. That’s their job.” She paused. “Now our job is to study.”

Charleston bit back a reply. She was right, of course. The Council would handle it, whatever it was. But wasn’t she at least curious, if not worried? Then again, they didn’t really know anything. And they definitely couldn’t do anything. He sighed.

“Anyone ever wonder why we’re learning martial arts when things like war suits exist?” Jacksonville changed the subject. He picked up a stick to poke in the ashes of the long-dead fire. “I mean, what’s the point? It’s not like we’d stand a chance against someone in a war suit.”

“It’s called an education,” Savannah answered before anyone else. “Physical health is as important as mental,” she quoted one of Thurmond’s mantras. “Now,” she continued, her tone all business, “quit procrastinating and tell me about the Time of Troubles.”

“Ugh,” Charleston replied. “Do we really have to keep going over this? Haven’t we studied enough?” He’d much rather talk more about what he’d overheard.

“And,” Jacksonville added, “tomorrow’s Founder’s Day. We should be doing something fun.”

Founder’s Day was the first Friday in May each year and marked the beginning of Founder’s Week, which celebrated the life and many accomplishments of Jonathan Stiles. From his discovery of peresilium, to his design of the domes they lived in, to his development of the Cure – a vaccine that slowed aging nearly to the point of stopping it and which he’d sacrificed his own life to perfect ­– Founder’s Week was the only break the Podkind got from their studies. And it was the only time they got to go to City Dome to join the rest of New Washington in the festivities. True, they usually had to do something educational, like go to a museum, but it was worth it. Not only did they get to see the actual city, which was excitement enough, but there were tons of fun activities and games.

This year, however, their Test was right after Founder’s Week. Most of the Podkind, Charleston and his friends included, planned on spending the whole week cramming. They’d take only tomorrow off and go to City Dome to watch the parade that always kicked off the week’s celebrations.

“You know Professor Slive is going to ask us about it,” Savannah said. “It’s his favorite topic.”

“The Time of Troubles was largely the result of human-made climate change,” Charleston grudgingly began. Savannah was right. Again. There was no way this topic wouldn’t be on the Test. And he still had questions Slive hadn’t answered. “Increased carbon dioxide emissions in the 20th, 21st, and 22nd centuries led to ever-increasing global temperatures that began impacting life on Earth.” He picked up a stick of his own and began toying with it.

“Why did the leaders of old Earth allow these emissions to continue unchecked?” Savannah interrupted, playing her best Slive.

“They did try,” Charleston continued, drawing absently with a stick in the dirt as he spoke. “Many of the so-called first-world countries attempted to curtail emissions.” He paused to think for a moment. “But a variety of factors worked against them.”

“You’re stalling,” Savannah said. “What factors?”

“Many in those same first-world countries,” New York picked up for Charleston, “denied climate change entirely. At least they denied humans were severely impacting the environment and therefore didn’t need to do anything. They claimed such fluctuations in temperature were normal over the course of the planet’s history.”

“So were extinctions,” Savannah said wryly. “It’s not called the sixth extinction because it was the first time life had been wiped out on the planet,” she added by way of explanation when the others only stared.

“I’d never thought about that before,” Charleston replied with genuine surprise.

“Another factor,” Jacksonville chimed in, “was many of the less-developed countries during this time period were in the process of,” he paused, unsure of the word, “developing,” he finished awkwardly. “And this development involved the same kinds of carbon dioxide producers the already developed countries had used to become developed.”

“Your eloquence is astounding,” Savannah commented drily. “Go on.”

“These newly developing countries were unwilling to curb their own emissions when it was largely the developed countries that had created the problem in the first place. It was viewed as hypocritical for the more advanced countries to expect the less advanced ones to limit their own development by eliminating the very methods the advanced countries had used to succeed.”

“Is that all?” she asked, her black eyebrows rising over her dark eyes.

“There was the great human inertia!” New York said, a smile crossing his broad, forever tan face. “Or was it arrogance?” he muttered, the smile disappearing just as quickly as it had come. He pulled out his holoscreen to look through his notes.

“Yes,” Charleston picked up, “the great human inertia. After generations of ever growing dependence on fossil fuels, it was unrealistic to think humans could change the kinds of habits those fossil fuels supported.”

“Particularly in light of how slowly the climate was changing,” New York added. “It was easy to think it wouldn’t effect them or even their children or grandchildren.”

“It was also easy to think their children or grandchildren would come up with a solution,” Jacksonville said, throwing his stick into the woods and gingerly sliding off the stump to sit on the ground. “But they didn’t. And while the climate did change slowly, it eventually reached a point of…” he tried to remember the phrase he’d read in their textbook, “no return,” he finished.

“What was that exactly?”

“The true and devastating impact of carbon emissions wasn’t evident for many decades, more than a century. But once the overall increased temperature of Earth reached five degrees, changes happened rapidly, more rapidly than anyone had originally thought possible.”

“Four degrees,” Savannah sighed. “That’s an important detail to get right.”

“And,” New York took over, “those changes were irreversible. It was too late for humanity to do anything to stop the snowball effect of more than two hundred years of pumping carbon dioxide into the atmosphere at rates never before seen.”

“Okay, that was pretty good,” Savannah said, looking down at her notes, “though you left some things out and it took three of you to answer. You won’t have that luxury on Test Day.”

“It’s not going to matter either way,” Charleston complained. “Slive is going to fail me regardless.”

“Not if you know all the answers!” Savannah said, her eyes flashing. “Now, you said the true impact of the increasing global temperatures didn’t come until four degrees. Were there no signs or indications before then that the planet was suffering?”

“Um, well, the polar ice began melting more and more each year,” Charleston began. “Which led to rising sea levels. This caused increased flooding of coastal areas, which in turn pushed populations more towards the center. Oh, and storms became more frequent and worse. Stronger and stronger hurricanes in particular led to flooding and mass evacuations of whole cities along the coasts.”

“At the same time,” New York jumped in, “the increase in temperatures, which were exacerbated by the diminishing ice, led to massive droughts and eventual famine in much of the world. People fled the worst areas, frequently crossing borders in the process. This led to conflict and eventually to war. War led to even more carbon dioxide released into the atmosphere, which further compounded all the other issues.”

“Meanwhile,” Charleston said, “the oceans weren’t just rising, they were becoming more acidic. Thus, old Earth was quickly losing its food sources. Drought and massive fires turned many places into deserts, while at sea, the rising acidity led to the extinction of entire fish species. On land, the increased temperatures killed off countless animals and insects and threatened to kill humans, as well. But the air wasn’t just hot, it was becoming unbreathable in places due to pollution. All this forced people to migrate or die, like New York said, and this led to conflicts.”

“Was this World War III?” Savannah asked.

“Not exactly,” Jacksonville replied. “There were a great many wars, but not one large war. Climate change was affecting everyone so each region had its own war to fight. Traditional military allies were unable to help each other.”

“That’s not entirely true,” New York corrected. “The U.S. and European Union tried to help some of their allies in the east, but it wasn’t long before they had their own problems.”

“Okay, would you say global warming was the only cause of the Time of Troubles?” Savannah asked.

“Religion also played a role,” Charleston said, then went quiet.

Savannah looked at him for a few seconds. “And?”

Charleston let out a frustrated sigh. “This is what I was asking Slive about. I don’t really understand this part. Something to do with vampires, but since I don’t know what those are, it doesn’t really help.”

“Yes,” Savannah said with a laugh, “be sure to answer that vampires helped cause the Time of Troubles. You’ll be sure to wow our professors.”

“Well, they have something to do with it!”

“New York?” Savannah asked. “Jacksonville?” she looked at the other boy.

“I don’t know what vampires are either,” he shrugged.

“I know, but you’re doing such a fine job playing Professor Frog Face, I’d hate to stop you now,” New York smiled.

“Okay,” she continued after a moment and an eye roll, “you don’t have to talk about vampires. Professor Slive just used them as an analogy. His point was that throughout history humans have sought some rational reason for things they couldn’t explain. Thus, at one point our ancestors blamed vampires for sudden and mysterious deaths. They soon realized, of course, that these deaths had causes rooted in science and medicine and that blood-sucking creatures who prey on the living don’t exist.”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s starting to come back to me now,” Charleston interrupted, his foot beginning to tap a steady beat as if on its own accord. “Religion and a belief in god functioned in a similar way. No one knew what came after death, so people turned to the idea of a higher power to answer the question.”

“Exactly! But it runs deeper than that,” Savannah replied. “Our ancestors turned to religion to provide structure to their society, like Sofia was saying today in class. It was the cornerstone of their morality, of their view of right and wrong. Coupled with this was the sense of purpose and meaning religion gave to people’s lives. When our ancestors thought they were following the will of a higher power who cared about them, they lived peacefully, more or less, with each other and with themselves.”

“Uh,” New York interrupted, “you’re glossing over the countless wars fought because of religion.”

“More or less, I said,” Savannah retorted, and Charleston was ready to tune them out. They frequently got into heated arguments, which they insisted were discussions, over what he considered unimportant minutiae from the past. “Yes, religion led to war, but nothing like the worldwide chaos the Time of Troubles saw.”

“I suppose,” the boy reluctantly agreed, shrugging his large shoulders.

“Slive never did answer my question about how no god led to chaos,” Charleston grumbled. “And, yes, I was listening today,” he added before Savannah could tease him. “But it still didn’t really explain it. So no god means no morality. I guess I understand that. But no morality plus a dying earth means mass chaos? I don’t see how people would just, just…” he waved a hand in front of his face as he failed to find the word he was looking for.

“Devolve?” Savannah filled in. She paused and looked from friend to friend. Charleston was staring at the sky as he slowly peeled the bark off a stick. New York and Jacksonville were stretched out on the ground now, backs leaning against logs. “Imagine being forced from your home by floods, something not really your fault,” she began, her tone passionate, “and having to move to a new place in hopes of satisfying your basic needs for food and shelter. But you’re not alone. Tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands of people are doing the same thing.

“Meanwhile, the god that has underpinned your life-long beliefs and that has guided you in your daily actions is debunked, dethroned, discarded. God is dead, always has been. The morals you believed in are lies. You’re homeless, hungry and thirsty, hot and tired, an immigrant in your own country. Why should those people lucky enough to live in the Midwest not have to suffer the consequences of what really is everyone’s fault? Why should they have houses and beds and food? If there is no god, then there is no morality. And if there is no morality, then you’re all living by the laws of nature, and the laws of nature are a merciless thing. The strong will survive. You decide to take what you need.

“On the other side of things, imagine you are living somewhere in the middle of the U.S. Hordes of hungry, homeless people have moved into your city and are eating your food and drinking your water. Maybe your city would have been able to survive the various shortages that came with the rising temperature, but not when its population doubles overnight. It’s not your fault those people chose to live on the coasts. And it’s not your fault sea levels rose and hurricanes flooded the coastal towns and cities. Well, no more your fault than theirs. Why should you sacrifice what little you have to help?

“Meanwhile, the same god that gave the refugees a moral code is just as dead for you as for them. Without morality, there is no motivation to help others, particularly at the cost of yourself and those you love. Again, the laws of nature. The strong will survive. You decide to defend yourself and your family.”

Charleston was no longer looking at the sky. He was listening attentively to Savannah. Their friend’s description of the events back then was fascinating. If only Slive was able to lecture so clearly and compellingly, he wouldn’t have to study so hard.

“Fights break out in streets and cities across the U.S. and the world. Fights turn into battles, battles into war. Meanwhile, more refugees are coming every day. The temperature is steadily climbing. Fires are breaking out. Storms are ravaging the planet. The air is dirty, nearly unbreathable. Food is scarce and becoming scarcer. People move further north and south and the whole thing repeats in a new city until the population dwindles, eating itself like some parasitic worm, committing mass suicide in an effort to survive.”

“Show off,” New York muttered. “We know you’re ready for Test Day.”

“Yeah, but then Stiles designed and built the domes and the people were given a viable means of survival,” Charleston said. “90% of the population moved into domes by 2600, remember?”

“By 2500,” Savannah corrected. “But 90% of 10% is a fraction of what the population had been before the Time of Troubles began.”

“Wait, you’re saying 90% of the population died before the domes were finished?”

“Sometimes I wonder if you were even awake during Slive’s lectures,” Savannah replied with a sigh. “No, they didn’t all die, though most did. Some moved further and further towards the poles and were able to survive outside for who knows how long. There may still be people there today for all we know. Others bunkered down in underground shelters with stockpiles of food and water. Most of those probably died soon after we moved into the domes. And then there were the religious fanatics.”

“I thought you said religion was de…de something or another,” Charleston interrupted.

“Debunked,” Savannah said. “It was, but there was a portion of the population who kept the faith, as they called it, who continued to believe, despite the evidence to the contrary. They saw climate change as god’s punishment for the sins of humanity. For the most part, they either died in the fighting or sought refuge in isolated communes in various places. No one knows if any survived. Pretty much anyone who remained outside a dome and not at one of the poles would have died.”

“So, we just have to repeat all that for the Test and we’ll be fine,” Jacksonville said wryly.

“It made a lot more sense when you described it than when Slive did,” Charleston commented.

“Thanks,” Savannah replied with a smile and looked down. “What else should we go over? The Dome Wars?”

Charleston and New York both sighed, but before they could agree or disagree, a strange voice interrupted them from the woods.

“That was a right fine story you told, wee one.”

 

The Podkind is a science fiction/fantasy novel written by Johnny Cycles. Click here for Chapters 5 and 6.