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Chapter 5
Charleston jumped and looked to where he’d heard the strange voice. No one ever came out to their fort, not even the others from Red Pod.
“I be talkin’ tuh duh smart un,” another voice said from a different direction. This one didn’t sound like the first.
How many strange people were out there? Charleston wondered. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up. He exchanged a confused and wary look with his friends as they all stood. Maybe it was someone from one of the other pods playing a trick on them. “Who said that?” he called.
“Ekscooze mah, suh,” another new voice said from yet another direction, “but ah doo believe ah was speakin’ tuh duh smart ‘un,” it continued, now in a singsong lilt, “not duh cute ‘un.”
Charleston blushed despite himself. “Come out where we can see you! All of you!” he shouted in frustration. If this was another Pod playing tricks on them, what was the point? If it was something else, something connected to those attacks on the surface… But that was absurd.
“Just ‘aving a bit ‘o fun wit ya, lad,” a girl’s voice came from directly behind him.
Charleston jumped and Savannah let out a clipped scream.
A girl in a brown cloak stood at the entrance to their fort, her face a shadow. But it wasn’t just any girl. She was an unfamiliar girl.
There were no unfamiliar girls in Podkind Dome, Charleston thought with a sinking feeling. In fact, there were no unfamiliar girls or boys anywhere in New Washington. The Podkind had been the first generation of children born in more than two hundred years. Charleston stared, his mouth hanging open stupidly like Arizona’s or Dublin’s did during Duman’s classes.
The unfamiliar girl stood silently, as if patiently waiting for him to process everything. She was small, shorter and thinner than even the smallest of the Podkind. Her hands were concealed somewhere in her cloak, her face a blur of darkness within its hood. And yet, despite her stature, she exuded something Charleston couldn’t put his finger on. Confidence? Knowledge? Power?
“Where are the others?” Charleston asked.
The girl tilted her head to one side. He could feel her eyes bore into him. “What others?” she asked.
Charleston scanned the trees around their fort for any sign of those responsible for all those different voices. If these strangers thought they’d scare them, they didn’t know much about the Podkind. He took a step towards the girl.
“The others in the woods?”
“You just answered your own question.”
Charleston blinked.
A sigh came from the hood, followed by indistinct muttering. Then she laughed, a strangely deep, adult-sounding laugh, and threw back her hood. She was pale, with light brown hair and dark eyes. She had a beautifully odd face, her jaws wide and her chin narrowing sharply into a point below bow-shaped lips that shone a deep red.
Charleston was surprised to see she looked no more than eleven or twelve.
“Where are the others?” she prompted with a smirk. “The others in the woods?” She raised her eyebrows at him encouragingly.
“They’re in the woods,” Savannah finally found her voice.
“Ding, ding, ding,” the girl said excitedly in a deep baritone. “We have a winner! Which door does the young lady choose? One, two, or three,” she continued, sweeping an arm out to one side.
Charleston exchanged another confused look with his friends. “There are no others,” he finally said. “You can change your voice.”
“We have another winner!” she replied, this time in a different male voice.
“Who are you?!” New York spoke up.
“Tha’ do be duh question o’ duh ‘our,” she replied, her voice yet again sounding different, consonants clipped from words so that “hour” came out as “our.”
“Well?” Jacksonville prompted, his shock finally wearing off. “Are you going to answer?”
“Yes,” she answered.
“Yes, what?” Jacksonville continued.
“Yes, I am going to answer.”
Charleston growled in frustration. “Who are you?” he repeated. “Other than annoying.”
“Ooh,” the girl crooned, and it sounded almost perverse. “Bold and cute.”
Charleston felt his face go hot. He looked away.
“I’m Violet,” she finally said and extended a hand in his direction. “What’s your name?”
Charleston looked at the hand. What was she doing?
Violet twitched her eyebrows up and down at him. “Go ahead,” she said encouragingly. “Take it.”
“Take what?”
New York stepped forward and reached out his hand to hers. Violet grabbed his palm and squeezed.
“It’s called a handshake,” she explained. “Haven’t you ever seen a handshake?”
New York shrugged at the others as he let go. “I saw pictures of it in a history book.”
Charleston looked at Violet. She was just a girl after all. But why did he still feel so uneasy. He shook his head, then took her hand. It felt awkward.
“Now you squeeze back,” she explained, “and tell me your name.”
He squeezed her hand. It was warm and hard, calloused like his own. “Charleston,” he said.
“And now we let go,” Violet said. “Unless you fancy me and want to hold me hand,” she said smiling coyly, her voice singsong once more.
Charleston blushed again and dropped his hand.
“Most people would now say something polite, like, ‘Pleased to meet you,’ or, ‘What a pleasure to make your acquaintance,’ but we don’t have to go into all that.” After a moment of awkward silence, Violet turned to the Savannah and Jacksonville and repeated the same ritual, saying her name, extending her hand to be grasped a moment, then letting go.
“How did you do that?” Charleston asked once they’d finished.
“Do vhat?” she asked, her voice changing yet again, this time to something heavy and thick, as if she were speaking with rocks in her mouth.
“That! Change your voice. I’ve never heard people talk like you.”
“It’s quite simple, really,” she said in a high-pitched voice, as airy as her last statement was thick. “Have you never watched a moving picture?”
“Uh, you mean like the images in the glass?” he asked, pointing at the dome above them, though it wasn’t visible through the canopy of trees. This girl was really weird.
“No, silly,” she said, her voice now a near perfect imitation of Charleston’s own.
“She means the movies,” New York interjected, “like from old Earth.”
Violet gave the large boy a broad smile that said he was correct.
“Who are you?” Charleston asked again, shaking his head once more, as if that would help make sense of everything. He couldn’t keep up with the girl’s strange accents and even stranger words. Nor could he reconcile her existence with what he knew about New Washington. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be at all.
“I’m Violet,” she replied. “I already introduced myself.”
“Not your name, but who you are. Are you in a pod? Are you from City Dome?” Charleston shot back in frustration. There were twelve kids living in each of the twelve pods on Podkind Branch. Charleston didn’t know all of their names, but he’d fought in enough melees with them to at least recognize everyone. He’d never seen Violet in his life. Not to mention her name. It wasn’t a city from old Earth. Which left her being from City Dome. But that was just as impossible.
“Ah, but those are different questions, youngling,” she said. “The key to finding answers is asking the right questions.”
Charleston again couldn’t find words to respond to the weirdness. Youngling? Who was she to call him that?
“Well?” Savannah asked after it was clear the girl would say no more.
“Well, what?”
“Are you going to tell us?”
“Tell you what?”
Charleston stifled a frustrated sigh. “Who you are!”
“I’m Violet.”
“No!” he nearly shouted. “Not your name!”
Violet sighed. “I’m not dealing with the sharpest tool in the shed here am I?”
Charleston looked at her in confusion. “What?”
“It’s all semantics, Char,” Savannah said, her own voice now edged with annoyance, her earlier fright forgotten. “She’s toying with us on purpose.” Savannah eyed the girl. “But why? Other than to be annoying, like you said.”
Violet flashed her broad smile at Savannah. “It’s refreshing to speak with one so smart,” she said and sounded like she meant it. “And you’re right. I’m not only trying to annoy you, though I’ve enjoyed that aspect of it. No, younglings,” she continued, and something in her tone suggested she was not of a younger age as the ones she was now calling younglings, “you must learn to ask the correct questions if you’re ever going to discover the truth.”
“What truth?” Savannah asked quickly. “The truth about the Time of Troubles? Was that what you were calling a fine story?” Savannah put a sarcastic emphasis on the last two words.
“That’s one truth worth discovering, yes,” Violet replied with another laugh. “It was a lovely story you told, by the way. You are quite the orator.”
Savannah dropped her eyes in embarrassment despite herself. If she were any lighter, her blush would have been visible to her ears.
“Makes our great Founder,” Violet continued, “Jonathan Sylvester Stiles,” here her voice changed to a deep man’s voice, strikingly close to that of the Founder’s own, “out to be a hero, a savior, a god almost, building domes all over the world to save the dying population from the deadly elements. How noble and brave of him!” she added in mock praise. “How prescient of him to foresee the impending doom and develop a solution!”
Charleston felt a flash of anger at her disparagement of the Founder, but before he could say anything, Savannah spoke up.
“And I suppose you know the truth,” she accused the girl.
“Sure do!” Violet said happily.
“Well?” Savannah prompted. “Let’s hear it.”
Violet laughed her deep laugh again. “What would be the fun in that?” she teased. “No, seriously,” she continued, holding up her hands in a placating gesture at the protests coming from the four friends, “some truths must be learned on their own.”
“Why should we believe you?” New York asked, his big fists clinched at his side. “We don’t even know who you are.”
“I’m Violet,” she replied with a sigh. “We’ve been over this.”
Jacksonville snorted in disgust, as Charleston growled, “Where do you come from?”
“Now that’s a better question,” Violet beamed. “I was born in New Washington.”
Charleston looked at her. “How? When? All the children are assigned to pods. Are you in Brown Pod, then?”
“On account of me brown cloak, is it?” she asked in her high-pitched voice again. “I dare say you are not garmented in a red cloak, my dear sir.”
Charleston involuntarily looked at his own clothes, light gray pants and a loose fitting gray shirt. It was what all the Podkind wore. “That’s not possible,” he managed. “We’re the only children in New Washington, everyone knows that.” Given the limited space of the domes and the near immortality the discovery of the Cure had granted people, the Council maintained tight control over the population via sterilization of each citizen. Children were born only every few hundred years and all were conceived in a lab.
“Yes, that’s what you’ve been told by the Council and the Planners,” Violet replied with a shake of her head. “Just like they told you that wonderful fairytale about the Time of Troubles.”
“You know about the Council of Nine and the Planners?” Charleston asked.
“Of course! Who doesn’t?” she answered. “But was that really what shocked you the most about what I said?” she asked and tsked.
“So they’re lying about other children, too?” Savannah asked, arms crossed and brow furrowed. “We’ve been to City Dome every year since before we can remember. We’re the only children there.”
“There are many truths that remain hidden,” Violet replied archly. “Many truths you must discover on your own.”
Savannah made a sound that was equal parts snort and laugh. “More cryptic nonsense.”
“No need to be rude, youngling,” Violet reprimanded. “I’ve been nothing but polite.”
Charleston spoke up before Savannah could retort. “And how are we supposed to learn these mysterious truths?” he asked, annoyed she was withholding the knowledge she accused them of not possessing. “Why don’t you just tell us?”
Violet sighed and muttered something about the cute and smart ones. “Like I said, they must be learned on their own, I’m afraid. But I’d start by going to the Observatory tomorrow if I were you.”
“Why the Observatory?” Charleston asked, glancing at the others to see their reaction. “There’s nothing there about the Time of…”
But Violet was gone.
“What?” New York stuttered.
“Where did she go?” Jacksonville asked.
“There!” Charleston said and pointed to where he’d seen a flash of movement between two trees in the distance. Without stopping to wonder why, he bolted after her.
“Char!” Savannah called out. “Wait!”
But he was already leaping over fallen logs and ducking between branches. A moment later, New York and Jacksonville were behind him.
“Why are we chasing her?” Jax asked as they ran.
“Where is she going?” New York shouted before Charleston could answer.
A flap of the girl’s cloak told him they were gaining ground. They knew these woods better than anyone. It was just a matter of time before they caught up with her.
“Who is she?” Jacksonville asked.
“How should I know?!” Charleston yelled.
“Where did she come from?”
Charleston just growled, annoyed by the questions. They’d heard everything Charleston had.
“She’s heading for Dragon’s Heart!” New York shouted, excitement in his voice.
Dragon’s Heart was what Paris had named a giant, oddly shaped boulder they’d found in the very center of a circular grassy patch in the middle of the forest. The rock was crisscrossed with ridges and hollows that made it perfect for climbing. Charleston and his friends had spent hours when they were younger clambering all over it and wondering how it got there and why no trees grew near it. Once they’d started on the fort, though, Dragon’s Heart had been largely forgotten.
Charleston and the others burst into the clearing and fanned out, quickly making their way around Dragon’s Heart and scanning the woods around them.
“Where is she?”
“We were right behind her!” Charleston said, breathing hard. “I swear I saw her cross the clearing towards Dragon’s Heart.”
“She must have headed into the woods on the other side,” Jacksonville replied. “Let’s keep looking.”
“No,” Charleston insisted. “I saw her run to the boulder. She didn’t run into the woods.”
“Okay…where is she then?”
“I don’t know,” Charleston said, examining the boulder.
“So you missed her run to the other side,” New York shrugged. It was the only explanation.
They searched the clearing and the woods around it, but there was no trace of Violet anywhere. She had vanished.
♦
Violet stood and brushed dirt and twigs from her pants. She was in a dark tunnel that led towards a faint flickering light. She just started in that direction when a voice brought her up short.
“Did you make contact?”
“For the love of…” she jumped, despite herself. “Why are you lurking in the shadows, Green?” she asked after she’d composed herself. She didn’t want any trace of fear in her voice.
“Did you make contact?” the hooded figure named Green repeated. There was an edge in his voice this time. He wasn’t known for his patience.
Violet nodded, then spoke. “Yes. I told them to go to the Observatory tomorrow.” Violet could feel Green’s calculating look on her.
“Will they go?” he finally asked.
“Have I ever failed you before?” she replied archly, some of the swagger that had so annoyed the Podkind coming back.
Green made an indeterminate sound. “The stakes couldn’t be higher this time, though.”
“Don’t I know it,” Violet replied and set off down the tunnel. “Let’s go. I’m starving.”
Chapter 6
That evening, when their parental core made their rounds to say goodnight, Charleston told his mom, Liz, about their encounter with Violet. He and the others had debated whether or not to tell their parents about the strange girl and her even stranger words. In the end, they’d agreed that he and New York would tell Stanton and Liz, one of their dads and moms. Charleston had wanted to tell Claire, their other mom, since she was the Voice of the Council of Nine and would surely know about any rogue children in New Washington, but she was busy with preparations for the beginning of Founder’s Week the next day.
“And then she just disappeared!” Charleston finished excitedly to Liz, who sat on the edge of his bed. Even though Charleston considered himself almost an adult at his near 16 years, he still looked forward to this one-on-one time with his parental core.
“Wow!” Liz said with a smile and ran a hand over Charleston’s cropped head as she always did at bedtime. Her straight glossy black hair framed her olive face and was long enough to tickle Charleston’s nose when she bent close.
“Wow!” echoed Stanton. He was sitting with New York, who had just finished his own version of the story.
Liz and Stanton had been together for more years than they would tell their children. Stanton had dark skin, almost as dark as Savannah’s, and long, braided hair that reached the small of his back. He wore thin, silver glasses and had tattoos that resembled suns encircling his eyes. His hands were tattooed, as well, with what looked like Saturn. He was a joker – even if his jokes weren’t often funny – quick to laugh and always happy.
Liz was the more serious one in the couple, a balance to Stanton’s child-like nature, as she called it. They both worked at the Aerospace Research and Design Complex, or ARD for short. Some people, Liz included, called it ART, saying what they built there wasn’t just functional objects, but things of beauty and grace. Like most of the other children, Charleston only had a vague idea of what his parents did. Stanton and Liz worked on planes and other flying things. Stanton helped design the exterior, while Liz built the engines. Their other parents, Martin and Claire, worked in some administration buildings in City Dome. Martin did something with the economy, while Claire worked as the Voice of the Council of Nine.
“Who do you think she is?” Charleston asked excitedly. “And do you think it’s true what she said? About the Time of Troubles? About Stiles?” He felt his stomach sink as he posed this last question. He’d looked up to the Founder his entire life. They all had.
Liz sighed and rubbed his head again. “No, of course it’s not true,” she smiled reassuringly. She cut a glance at her partner.
Stanton laughed, his eyes crinkling in mirth. “One truth I can tell you,” he began with a smirk, “is people love to say bad things about good people. In fact, the better a person is, the more some people will say horrible lies about them. It’s human nature, unfortunately. And as much as Stiles did to cure diseases and aging, he couldn’t cure our nature.”
“But who is she?” Charleston asked again. “She’s younger than we are by a lot. And there are no other kids in New Washington, right?” He paused, wondering if he should ask his next question. He took a deep breath and exhaled. “Do you think she’s connected to that attack on the war patrol?” But it sounded so unbelievable when he said it out loud. How would an eleven-year-old girl be involved in that? And why?
Liz’s smile disappeared. “And how do you know about the attack?”
“Uh,” Charleston began, realizing he’d stumbled into dangerous territory. “I overheard Professor Manfred talking about it with someone in the hallway in Podkind Dome.”
“So you were sneaking about and eavesdropping?” Liz asked, disappointed. “We’ve talked about this with you podlings.”
Stealth had been one of the first skills the Podkind had mastered as young children and they used to play elaborate games of hide and seek. They also constantly tried to sneak up on their parental core and their professors. After one too many scares and one too many private conversations overheard, the adults instituted a rule against “sneaking,” as it was termed, outside of Combat class.
“I wasn’t sneaking!” Charleston insisted. “I was going to the fort from detention.”
“Why were you in detention?” Liz asked sternly.
Charleston looked down from her gaze and sighed. He had now fully entered the danger zone. He heard Stanton and New York laugh quietly at the turn the conversation had taken. “You know Slive hates me,” he said by way of defense.
“Professor Slive,” Liz corrected him.
Charleston sighed again and looked from his mom to his dad. Liz was still staring at him with a stern expression, but Stanton’s eyes were dancing.
“What did you do?”
“I interrupted him with a question, that’s it!” Charleston replied. “What’s wrong with asking questions in class?! That’s what class is for!”
Liz stared at her son, who dropped his eyes again after a moment.
“Well, he caught me daydreaming,” he muttered. “But it wasn’t my fault! My head was really hurting. And his class is so boring,” he admitted after Liz remained silent.
“It’s not your job to decide what is boring or not,” Liz replied quickly. “Your job is to listen and learn and to do so respectfully. What’s so funny over there?” she quickly turned on her partner.
Stanton let out the loud laugh he had been futilely struggling to contain. “Sherman is quite the bore.”
Liz stared at her partner a moment, as if willing him to be more serious, then smiled. “He can be, yes…”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that you should be a good student and treat him with respect,” Stanton finished her thought. “Regardless of whether or not it’s boring, you need to pay attention and learn, as it will be on the Test and the Test will prepare you…”
“…for our Purpose, I know,” Charleston finished for his father, trying to appear properly ashamed of his actions. “But I don’t see how knowing all that stupid history will help me in the Dome Guard!”
“And how do you know you’re going to be placed in the Dome Guard?” Liz asked, finally relenting and rubbing his head with a smile.
Charleston closed his eyes in reply. He loved it when Liz rubbed his head.
“You’re like a cat,” his mother laughed. “Now, get some sleep. You’re tired and tomorrow is a full day.”
“But what about that girl?” Charleston had protested through closed lids. He was exhausted. Their training always left him half asleep before his head hit the pillow.
“Don’t worry about it, son,” Liz had said. “I’ll let Claire know about it.”
♦
The next day, he and the others rehashed the previous day’s events for what seemed like the hundredth time as they waited with the others from Red Pod to take Rainbow to City Dome to celebrate the start of Founder’s Week.
“And what did Mama C say?” Jacksonville asked Charleston. When you had two moms, the Podkind quickly learned, you had to come up with some way of differentiating them to avoid having to constantly ask which mom or which dad.
“I don’t know,” Charleston answered. “I haven’t talked to her yet.”
“Who do you think she is?” New York asked.
“And how did she disappear?”
“And what did she mean by all that talk about finding the truth?” Charleston said in a poor imitation of Violet’s voice.
“Can we just drop it?” Savannah asked exasperated. “Repeating the same questions again and again won’t get us any closer to the answers! And she’s probably some kid from another pod being stupid!”
Before Charleston could reply, Rainbow whooshed to a stop in front of them. The others in Red Pod began chattering in excitement. Rainbow was one of two ways each of the branches was connected to New Washington’s main dome. The first was the Trunk Shaft, from which all the branches originated. Rainbow was the second. It ran between each branch’s main dome and the center of City Dome. These connecting tubes were called Rainbow due both to their resemblance to the shape of a rainbow as they arced up and towards City Dome and to the many colors reflected in the glass each tube was made from.
As the doors opened and Charleston and the others crammed in, he forgot all about Violet and her annoying questions. He pressed himself against the glass wall with his friends. His stomach dropped as they took off, excited oohs and ahs filling the small space. Podkind Branch was the lowest of the branches, which meant they rarely got to see the other branches that made up New Washington. It also meant their trip to City Dome was the longest of any of the Rainbows. They had ample time to soak in the sights and enjoy what felt more like a ride than an elevator.
As they approached the peak of the arc, the podlings could see all of New Washington. City Dome was indeed massive, miles and miles in diameter and teeming with life. Buildings both large and small sprawled in seemingly random directions, many built one atop the other, much like Staircase Stream back in Podkind Forest. Interspersed throughout were large hanging gardens and massive trees stretching almost to the top of the dome itself, though this surely was a trick of the eye. In the center, where Rainbow would take them, was Founder’s Park, an immense square surrounded by large gray buildings. Off in the distance away from the sprawl were more open spaces and still larger buildings.
Beneath City Dome stretched the Trunk, wider and thicker than the podlings had ever imagined. Its peresilium walls, silvery gray like a fish scale, shifted colors in the reflected light of the sun. Staggered in a circular descending pattern, the branches of New Washington stretched impossibly far out, the many domes anchored to each motley discs of color. Below them they could just glimpse Podkind Branch.
Before they knew it, the elevator had shifted and the group was rushing down towards Founder’s Park, where everyone in New Washington would gather to hear Stiles’ speech. The buildings and gardens and people came into greater and greater focus. Gray pathways radiated out from the square they were approaching like the spokes of a wheel. A large statue of Stiles stood in the middle. The rest of the square was green with grass and trees, though little of this was visible – the place was packed with people. It was a moving, undulating sea of color.
The elevator came to a silent halt at one of the pathways leading to the center of the square. The podlings spilled out to join the rest of the Podkind, who were waiting to be taken to their designated viewing spot for Stiles’ speech.
“Look who it is,” a familiar voice sounded from behind Charleston. He turned to see Jambon, Edinburgh, and several other members of Orange Pod approaching. The larger of the two bullies wore a smirk on his blocky face. The wounds Charleston had inflicted were gone, replaced by his now familiar cockiness. “It’s Les.”
“How did he get that nickname?” Edinburgh asked, following his podmate’s lead. He had dirty blonde hair and a face full of freckles.
“Because he’s less than.”
“Less than what?” Edinburgh asked, feigning confusion.
“Less than a fighter. Less than a podling. He’s less than everything. And everyone.” The oranglings fanned out to either side of Jambon. Charleston recognized Dammen and Naima, as well as the two who had been holding Jacksonville for their friend to pummel. The whole group of bullies was here.
“For someone who got his ass kicked, you sure talk a lot of trash,” New York replied.
“You all got your asses kicked, too,” Jambon retorted.
“And yet we won the melee,” New York shot back.
“No, you didn’t,” Jambon said, his voice dripping with disdain. “Ark won the melee. You idiots lost. Which,” he continued, putting a thick finger to his chin, “makes you,” he pointed the finger at Charleston, “losers, Les. See,” he turned to his podmates, proud of himself, “he’s less than a winner. A loser,” he said, looking hard back at Charleston.
“You talked too much then, too,” Charleston replied calmly, ignoring the flaws in Jambon’s logic. “Until I broke your arm. Then you just screamed.”
Jambon took a threatening step towards him. “You got lucky, Les. Next time, you won’t be.”
“Bold words in a place you can’t back them up,” Charleston retorted, stepping up to Jambon. “But even if you weren’t too afraid to fight without your friends backing you up, I would just break your other arm.”
Jambon stared down at Charleston, his face red. His fists clenched at his sides and it looked to the others for a moment like he would actually fight Charleston right there.
Instead, he laughed. “You know what, Les?” he began derisively. “Next time we’ll go after your friends first, one at a time, until they’re all in Med Dome. Then we’ll come for you.”
“Bring it!” Jacksonville shouted. He was eager to get revenge of his own against Edinburgh and the others.
Jambon laughed again. “Punching bag,” he said as he turned to go, the other Orange podlings falling in behind him.
“What a mouth breather,” Savannah said. Everyone burst out laughing.
“Yeah, what’s their problem?” Jacksonville asked.
“It’s too bad they’re such assholes,” New York commented as he watched the oranglings disappear in the crowd of kids. “That Edinburgh is kinda cute.”
“Ehh,” Savannah replied. “Too many freckles.”
“Every pot has a lid,” New York replied sagely.
“I wonder if Professor Thurmond ever complained about them to the Council,” Charleston said as they started off after the crowd of children, which had finally begun moving. Thurmond had witnessed the torture of Jax and had threatened to report Orange Pod and their parental core to the Council, though no one knew if he had or not.
“Nothing would come of it,” a quiet voice said from behind them.
Charleston nearly jumped. It was Paris. He hadn’t realized the tall, lanky boy was with them. Paris didn’t have a group of friends within the pod, so much as he drifted between groups. No one seemed to mind. He rarely spoke and never got in the way.
“Why do you say that?”
“They want all kinds of children,” Paris replied.
Before Charleston could ask what exactly their odd friend meant by this strange remark, a hush fell over the crowd. The Podkind had reached their place and Stiles’ speech was about to start. Charleston looked towards the Founder’s statue where a stage had been set up. Claire stood in the middle of it, nine dark screens encircling her. As one, the screens turned on, though the figures revealed in them were shadows on a dark background. It was the Council, the ruling figures of New America, one from each of the nine domes. Their identities were kept secret to prevent the kind of corruption and influence by outside lobbies and groups that had plagued the governments of old Earth. They never spoke, at least not so anyone other than Claire could hear. Hence her title – Voice of the Council of Nine.
“Welcome!” their mom said to the massive crowd. Charleston had at first found it strange to see the person who had nurtured him, comforted him when he’d hurt himself, tucked him in at night, in such an important position, but now it was normal. He listened, eager to hear Stiles’ speech, even though he knew it by heart at this point.
“The Council wishes you a Happy Founder’s Day!” Claire continued and the crowd roared in response. “They congratulate you on your hard work in fulfilling your Purpose and ensuring New America continues to thrive.” The crowd roared again, Charleston and the others screaming and clapping with them. There was a euphoric feeling in the air that was almost palpable.
“Now,” Claire continued, silencing the crowd, “Jonathan Stiles, our beloved Founder.”
A large screen rose up from the stage behind Claire and flicked on. The familiar bearded, bespectacled, smiling face of Jonathan Stiles appeared.
“Greetings!” the man said, laughing for some reason only he knew as he did so. Charleston always found this part strange. Stiles died perfecting the Cure for everyone in New Washington, yet he appeared happy about it. “If you are watching this, then it means I succeeded. The Cure has worked. The domes we built have preserved the human race. You have survived and are hopefully thriving. My work is done and my Purpose has been fulfilled.”
Here, Stiles paused, as if he knew his words would inspire the cheering that now erupted from the crowd. Charleston and his friends were shouting as loud as anyone.
“You, too, have a Purpose,” he continued after a moment. “First and foremost, it is to stay alive, to keep New Washington and New America safe and secure from the outside elements and from our enemies. The human race depends on you.”
Again, a pause. Again, cheers.
Charleston was less enthusiastic this time. The mention of enemies, something he’d heard for years, now felt much more real. He’d always thought Stiles was talking about foreign countries, but now, after hearing what Professor Manfred and that man had said, he wasn’t so sure. He glanced around him. Founder’s Day suddenly felt colder.
“In order to accomplish this most important of responsibilities,” Stiles continued, “each of you has been assigned a role in New Washington based on your abilities. Embrace your role, your Purpose, with all the vigor and eagerness that I embraced mine as creator of the Cure and the domes you now live in.”
More cheering.
“No single Purpose is greater than another,” Stiles continued. “Each position needs to be occupied for the greater good of New Washington and for your survival. To those of you working hard for these goals, we commend you.”
Here, Stiles began clapping, inspiring more cheers and applause.
“This week is as much about your service as it is about my life,” he continued. “You deserve praise and admiration. Your hard work and determination are appreciated. Without you, the human race would die out.”
More cheers.
“For those of you not yet assigned a Purpose, know that you were born for a reason. Whatever role you end up playing in our society, it is valued and absolutely essential.”
Charleston felt a swell of pride at Stiles’ words, as he always did during this part of the Founder’s speech. The great Jonathan Stiles was speaking directly to him. All thought of enemies and strange girls dissipated.
“Now, enjoy your week of celebration and relaxation. You’ve earned it!”
The crowd erupted in one final cheer that seemed to go on forever. Charleston exchanged smiles with New York and Jax. Savannah didn’t meet his eye. All that talk about our Purpose probably has her stressed out about our Test, Charleston thought. He felt his own anxiety spike at the realization that this time next week, they’d be taking their Test. And in two weeks, they’d know their Purpose. What if he didn’t make Dome Guard? he thought, not for the first time. What if his Purpose turned out to be taking care of livestock in Farm Dome?
Charleston shook his head to dispel the negative thoughts. There was nothing he could do about it now.
The dense crowd around them began thinning out.
Charleston looked to his friends. Thoughts of the Test, their Purpose, and even Stiles were gone now. “Observatory?” he half asked, half stated. They’d discussed the plan before leaving Podkind Forest. He and New York were dead set on following Violet’s cryptic instructions. Jacksonville was against it. He’d rather do something more fun than climb endless stairs for an unknown reason. That left Savannah with the deciding vote. And while she was convinced Violet was only toying with them, her curiosity got the best of her.
“I still think it’s a waste of valuable time,” Jacksonville said as the group started off towards the Science and Technology Museum, on top of which was the Observatory. “We only have one day in City Dome!” he complained.
“Not again,” Charleston replied. “We’ve been over this already.”
“We’ll go see if anything’s up there,” New York picked up, “and if there’s nothing, we’ll check out this year’s exhibit in the museum.” At New York’s insistence, the four friends went to the museums every year during Founder’s Week.
“Oh boy,” Jax replied sarcastically. Charleston was usually in agreement with his friend about museums, but not this year. If looking at boring old technology meant they’d see why Violet had told them to go to the Observatory, he’d spend all day there. He couldn’t quite explain why he wanted to know so badly, except that it was a mystery. The second mystery, actually, counting the attack on the patrol of war suits. Add it all up and that was two more mysteries than he’d ever encountered in his life, really. But there was more to it than simple curiosity. He didn’t know why, but he was sure Violet had come to Podkind Forest to talk to him, not the others. And while she had been super annoying and frustrating, a part of him felt…special.
He shook his head, embarrassed by his own feelings. Professor Duman would be proud of his self-analysis at least, he thought.
“She’s probably just some girl from another pod playing a stupid trick,” Savannah was saying again as Charleston blocked out his uncomfortable thoughts and feelings and turned his attention back to his friends’ conversation. They were making their way through the dispersing crowds of New Washingtonians to the edge of Founder’s Park.
“That doesn’t make any sense!” Charleston began his now-familiar retort when a flash of brown caught his eye. He stopped the others with an outstretched arm. “Wait! Did you see that?!”
“What?” Savannah asked, confusion creasing her face.
“Someone in brown!” he replied excitedly.
Savannah rolled her eyes. “There’re hundreds of people in every direction. I’m sure at least someone is wearing brown.”
Charleston shook his head. “No. It was her, I know it!” He stood on his tiptoes and peered hard through the groups of people. “There! There it is again!” He set off towards where he’d seen the flash, the others close behind. The park wasn’t as full of spectators now, but there were still large groups of people milling about. It was hard to get a direct line of sight in any direction.
“Char!” Savannah called. “Wait! It’s not her!”
Charleston ignored his friend and rushed forward. The figure in brown was coming in and out of view between the moving people in front of him. He was so close. He was…
He stopped.
There was someone dressed in a brown shirt and pants, but it wasn’t Violet. It was an older man with dark black hair. He gave Charleston a surprised look as the latter stopped in front of him. “Hello there!” the man said with a smile. “It’s always wonderful to meet one of our children! Which pod are you in?”
Charleston didn’t answer. He was sure he’d seen Violet.
“Sorry,” Savannah said to the man from Charleston’s side. “We’re in Red Pod. Happy Founder’s Day!” She dragged Charleston back the way they’d come.
“It’s not her,” he said disappointedly.
“I know,” she replied. “Look around, Char,” she continued, her voice equal parts urgent and kind. “There’s another person wearing brown. And another,” she pointed. “And another.”
He sighed. “Let’s just go.”
The friends were quiet the rest of the way to the museum. When they got there, they were greeted by the curator, Dr. Tyler. She stood at the foot of the wide stone staircase leading up to a columned landing and two huge wooden doors. It looked as if she was waiting for someone.
“Oh, hello podlings,” she said after a moment, not meeting their eye. She was peering over their heads and into the crowd.
“Are you looking for someone?” New York asked.
Dr. Tyler continued scanning the people a moment before finally turning to face them. “Happy Founder’s Day!” she said with her usual smile. She was a short woman with red hair and light skin and she wore the green blouse and matching green pants of the museum workers. “It’s nothing. Just,” she paused and looked uncomfortable again. She closed her eyes a moment, then smiled again. “Never mind. It’s nothing.” She appraised the four friends. “I can’t believe how much you’ve grown since last year!”
Charleston laughed awkwardly. He never knew what to say when one of the adults made this comment. It wasn’t like he grew on purpose or could take any credit for it. Why was it so remarkable to everyone else?
“Want a tour of our latest exhibit?” she asked.
Charleston looked at New York, who was smiling sheepishly. They had a plan. But…
“Sure,” he said before the others could answer.
“Let’s go!” Dr. Tyler said excitedly.
“What about the observatory?” Savannah whispered as they followed Dr. Tyler up the steps.
Charleston shrugged. He felt stupid for rushing off into the crowd after some man in brown. But he wasn’t about to say all that to Savannah. “It’ll be there when we’re done. And,” he added, glancing at New York, “look how happy he is.”
“And how unhappy Jax is,” Savannah smirked, nodding towards their other friend, who was glaring daggers at Charleston.
Charleston laughed despite himself.
At the top of the steps, Dr. Tyler led them through a set of gigantic doors and into the large foyer of the museum. To the left and right were two pairs of smaller double doors leading from the entrance. Straight ahead were twin staircases flanking a glass case with a dark black rock, gnarled and bumpy like one of the oaks in Podkind Forest. It was a fragment of the meteoroid Dr. Stiles and his crew had landed on and from which they’d harvested the metals and elements he used to create peresilium.
“How’s the Recreation Room coming along?” New York asked, nodding to the pair of double doors on the second floor where the staircases met.
Dr. Tyler beamed. “We’re adding events every week!”
The Recreation Room was her brainchild. It was a virtual reality system that let users play the role of historical figures in key moments of their lives. New York and Savannah were both eager to try it out, and even Charleston thought it sounded pretty cool.
Dr. Tyler led them down the long hallway to their right past paintings and portraits hanging between deep-set windows. Another set of double doors awaited them and she ushered them into a massive room so large Charleston couldn’t see where it ended. It was full of glass cases of all sizes with displays of various strange looking items. “Our latest exhibit highlights technology from the 20th century, the century that saw the first significant increase in global temperatures,” she explained.
Over the next hour, Charleston and his friends oohed and ahhed, laughed and exclaimed, over the various items Dr. Tyler showed them. Despite his complaints about museums, Charleston usually found himself entertained by her tours. She was one of the nicest people he’d ever met and she clearly loved her job. On one of their very first Founder’s Day, she’d talked to the Podkind about Stiles and his life so passionately that Charleston got the impression Dr. Tyler had known the man, though no one lived that long, Cure or no. Stiles died more than two thousand years ago. But the way she’d described his first failed attempt at building a dome – New Dakota, it had been called – and his perseverance to continue trying, despite the ridicule heaped on him by his contemporaries, had stuck with Charleston.
She had also told them things about New Washington none of the other adults had. Like how each branch had been built and how they were maintained. She’d described in loving words the genius of Stiles to design New Washington after a tree, with trunk, branches, and even roots. It’d been the first time Charleston had learned there were tunnels running deep under ground that gave the city access to natural gases and aquifers. She always shared tidbits of knowledge like that with them that made him feel like he was learning a secret no one else knew.
Now, she was pointing out various strange looking items from the 20th century. There were huge boxes with dark screens that people used to watch things in. They saw smaller boxes that were used to cook food. They were allowed to climb in and on top of several types of large transporting devices called automobiles, or cars for short, though none of them understood how old Earthlings got car from automobile. They were a lot of fun to explore until Dr. Tyler told them about the deadly gases they pumped out that had contributed to the global extinction.
From there, Dr. Tyler led them through several more enormous rooms, pointing out the evolution of certain items over time as the tour progressed through the 20th century. Televisions became more sleek and stylish, as did the computer, which had an exhibit all to itself. The first computer ever made was on display and the podlings were impressed and shocked by how large it was. It was bigger than the main room in Red Dome. Dr. Tyler then showed them the progression of the computer all the way to the microcomputers of New Washington, so small they weren’t visible to the naked eye, yet more powerful than any of their predecessors.
Another hour passed, and Charleston began feeling mentally numb. There were so many foreign and strange items to see that he was quickly reaching his limit on what he could process, much less appreciate. Even the exhibit on the evolution of weapons of war did little to raise his flagging spirits. Jacksonville looked to be feeling the same way, though Savannah and New York were both as eager and interested now as they had been when the tour began. Paris looked as he always did – quiet and observant, but otherwise emotionless.
Charleston did a double take. When had he joined them? Once again he hadn’t even noticed Paris was there. Talk about sneaking, he thought.
“Can we go to the Observatory now?” Jacksonville half asked, half whined after they’d finished one particularly boring room full of things Charleston didn’t even begin to recognize.
He nodded a vigorous agreement and New York sighed his assent.
They knew the way, but Dr. Tyler accompanied them anyway, as much because she enjoyed their company as because she was supposed to. She led them to a set of stairs, beside which was an elevator.
“Elevator,” Jacksonville pleaded, sounding more like an overtired child.
A quick ride later and they were in the main observatory room with its massive telescope and retractable ceiling. There were smaller telescopes at the windows that lined the circular room.
“Anyone want to look through the telescope?” Dr. Tyler asked.
Before they could answer, though, a fidgety looking man came through a side door and signaled her over.
“We’ll be outside,” New York called after her, then turned and pushed through another door, this one leading to a small landing. The bright sun momentarily blinded them as they spilled out onto the railed walkway that offered a 360-degree view of City Dome stretching out far below them. A cool breeze tugged at their clothing.
The view was breathtaking, almost as spectacular as the one offered by Rainbow. Unlike Rainbow, though, they could soak in the sights for as long as they wanted.
But today Charleston wasn’t basking in the beauty and wonder of New Washington from the second highest vantage point in City Dome. No, he was straining hard to see any sign of Violet.
“You know, Violet never said she’d be here,” Savannah commented, as if reading his thoughts. “She just said to come here.”
“Yeah,” Jacksonville seconded. “We don’t even know what we’re looking for.”
The friends moved along the walkway that circled the Observatory, looking hard into the distance at the various buildings that surrounded the museum. The park stretched before them, the statue of Jonathan Stiles at its very center. Directly across from it was the Council of Nine Building, the largest structure in City Dome. Various other museums, theaters, and restaurants filled the spaces around Founder’s Park. Beyond this, Charleston could make out a residential neighborhood with large buildings, each of which was encircled by the green of lawns and trees.
“At least the view doesn’t disappoint,” Jacksonville remarked with a smile.
They continued around the Observatory to the opposite side from Founder’s Park. Charleston still hadn’t seen anything remarkable or out of the ordinary. In this direction, the city stretched out before them as if smashed together by giant hands. There was far less green to be seen and the roads were narrower. Buildings were crammed together, one right on top of the other in many places.
Charleston sighed. “Nothing,” he said.
Savannah touched his shoulder. “Let’s keep walking. You never know.”
Charleston gave her a small smile and followed her back towards the entrance.
“What now?” New York asked after they’d been staring futilely once more at Founder’s Park for a few minutes.
“Let’s give it some more time,” Charleston replied.
Just then a figure in brown appeared in the doorway leading back into the Observatory. Charleston’s pulse quickened until he recognized Charles, Dr. Tyler’s partner. He was an older man with a sparse brown beard speckled with gray. He sometimes joined them on Dr. Tyler’s tours. He also worked at the museum.
“Hi,” Savannah greeted the man and gave a small wave. Charles, however, didn’t even turn to look in their direction, but instead started down the pathway opposite them. Savannah shrugged at Charleston.
“Why isn’t he wearing green like the other museum workers?” Charleston asked.
“Maybe he’s not working today,” she replied.
“Look over there,” Paris said before Charleston could respond. The lanky boy had one arm outstretched in the direction of the Museum of Ancient Arts next door.
Charleston turned. There was a figure standing on the roof. He, she, Charleston couldn’t tell, was dressed in brown too. The hair on the back of Charleston’s neck stood on end. The person was too large to be Violet, but something wasn’t right here.
“And there,” Paris shifted, pointing to one of the theaters a few buildings away. “And there.”
At the top of each building was a figure…no, figures, Charleston realized. And they were all dressed in brown. This was it, he thought excitedly. This was what Violet wanted them to see.
But what was it?
“What are you doing out here?” Dr. Tyler’s voice made him turn back to the entrance. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”
She wasn’t talking to them, though.
“Charles!” Dr. Tyler called to her partner’s back. He had only gone a few paces down the walkway. “Charles?” she repeated and this time there was something unsettling in her tone, something that scared Charleston.
Still, the man didn’t turn. But he spoke.
“Seek the truth.”
Charleston exchanged a glance with his friends as Dr. Tyler approached Charles and grabbed him by the shoulder.
“What are you doing…” she stopped short as Charles’ face came into view.
Charleston struggled to process what he was seeing. Charles’ eyes were…were not right somehow. There were deep circles under them and they looked solid red, like they were bloodshot. His pale face only accentuated the bright red of his eyes. It looked like he was crying blood.
“What have you done?” Dr. Tyler half whispered. And this time, Charleston could clearly make out the fear and horror in her voice.
“Seek the truth,” Charles said. He pushed past his partner and stepped closer to the Podkind. He was looking at them, but…
Charleston realized what was wrong with a sickening feeling.
Charles had no eyes.
They’d been gouged out as if with a jagged knife.
“New Washington is not what it seems,” Charles continued. There was a pleading, plaintive note to the eyeless man’s voice now, as if his very life depended on Charleston and the others obeying his imperative. “Seek the truth about the Cure! About New Washington!”
Before Charleston or the others could find their voice, Charles lifted his foot to the rail and hoisted himself over it to stand on the opposite side.
“Stop!” Dr. Tyler yelled. “What are you doing?”
“Seek the truth,” the man said once more before calmly stepping forward into the nothingness beneath him. He plummeted to the steps below.
Charleston gasped and stared at the crumpled, broken form beneath them.
Then movement from the corner of his eye dragged his attention away. The figure on the neighboring building wasn’t there anymore.
Another movement.
This time Charleston saw it. The figure on top of the theater was falling to the ground beneath.
And one by one, each of the figures in brown that had appeared atop the buildings encircling Founder’s Park leapt to their death.
The Podkind is a science fiction/fantasy novel written by Johnny Cycles. Click here for Chapters 7 and 8.