In this timeline, Kasey chose neither. “This is for my sister.”
In a house on Landmass-660, her face was a projection in Leona’s living room.
“Four months ago, you died.”
In a Territory 4 relief shelter, she glowed from an old-school monitor.
“Everyone has their own theory about what happened.”
In units all around the eight eco-cities, her words echoed directly in people’s heads, brought to them by their Intrafaces.
In a body shop on stratum-22, a dark-eyed, dark-haired boy paused his work to listen.
“The truth is you died to this world. You were poisoned by it. Like so many are being poisoned now.”
Kasey didn’t reveal their visits to the boat rental, or to the island. Some secrets were best left at sea, between sisters.
She brought a hand to her chest and felt her simulated heartbeat. Would the people behind the pipe leak have been evicted if David Mizuhara hadn’t covered up their tracks? Did they deserve that, and what ripple effects might their eviction have had on others relying on HOME as their one means of admission to the eco-cities, such as Meridian’s extended family? Again, Kasey didn’t know. She wasn’t Genevie or the Coles, wasn’t well-versed enough in human to forecast people’s irrational prejudices or discriminations. But she did know this:
“None of us live without consequence. Our personal preferences are not truly personal. One person’s needs will deny another’s. Our privileges can harm ourselves and others.”
When she looked to the faces staring at her from stratum-25’s emporium, she saw Celia’s among them. This wasn’t the side effect of secondhand, virtually rendered hallucinogenic smoke, or a hacker messing with her visual overlays, but a mirage of the mind, as real as Kasey wanted it to be real.
And in this moment, she wanted it with her whole heart. “You were a victim of someone else’s livelihood,” she said to her sister. “Your life paid for their living. Yet you shared their belief, and the belief of so many others in this world, that the freedom to live as we choose is a right.”
Kasey’s hand fisted over her heart, until she could no longer feel its beat. “I disagree,” she said directly to Celia’s face, and despite the fear that her sister would react with horror, she went on. “In our time, freedom is a privilege. Life is a right. We must protect life, first and foremost. Together, we pay this price.
“But down the line, we may be able to create the world you dreamed of. Where neither life nor freedom has to be rationed. You always believed it was possible.” At that, Celia smiled, and Kasey’s throat fogged. “I will, too.”
Then she logged out, returning to her stasis pod in the Mizuhara unit. Her eyes opened to the readings of her vitals, all in the normal range.
Now to begin again.
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I THOUGHT I’D FACE MY end at sea.
But it’s here, on the ridge, staring at the spot Hero stood heartbeats ago, that I realize no matter what I choose, I will lose a part of me. There is no winning.
Fuck everything, then. Fuck my tears, which blind me, and my lungs, spasming as I try to make the climb down. The rocks hurt my knees even though the pain is just part of my programming, and I curse, curse Hero, who, considerate to the end, even thought to jump off on the meadow side, as if to give me the option of bypassing his body completely on my way home.
Well, too bad. Whatever I decide, I’m not leaving him. I grit my teeth and continue my descent. The fog thins, and I start to make out the rubble meters below me, and—
Blood.
Blood on skin. Blood on bone.
Blood on something white but decidedly not bone.
Spindly tubules tear out from his torso, where his rib cage should be. They flex and dance like spider legs across his body, a body already on the mend.
I fling my gaze skyward, suddenly weak in the limbs. The denial surges again, and I think, That can’t be him. We ache and cry and gasp with so much life. But when I try to continue my descent, I find that I can’t. Death should be silent, but Hero’s body clicks and clacks as it puts itself back together. The uncanny sounds nauseate me. Bile sears my throat.
I wanted to give you the space to decide. The time.
“Stupid stupid stupid.” And yet, so well-thought-out. He can’t come after me while he’s dead. He can’t hold me and tell me that he wants me to stay, either. From now until he’s revived, it’s truly just me and my decision.
The rope bites into my hands as I hang, unmoving. Minutes pass. Or hours. Time always seemed distorted on this island. Now it vanishes all together as a dimension.