again, creating enough of a diversion for me to
run away. They don’t come after me this time. They throw rocks and yell, “It
doesn’t end here, bitch! We’ll get you next time!”
I run all
the way back to the Tower without ever stopping to catch my breath. Up in the
sky, Kael veers west and makes a dip toward the riverbanks. I slow down to a
brisk pace and follow him. Yuri and his brother were right. Athel’s
standing by Skull Rock, holding up his gloved arm for Kael to land. His
friend Lukas is with him, seated on top of the rock with his data feeder
propped on his bony knees.
I stomp
all the way there and glare at my brother, fuming.
Athel
barely acknowledges me, his attention on Kael. The falcon flaps his broad wings
and lands gracefully on Athel’s arm.
“Good
boy,” Athel says, rewarding him with a piece of meat.
“Two
hours, seventeen minutes and forty-two seconds,” Lukas calls. “But I’m not sure
he went all the way to—”
“Shh!”
Athel interrupts him.
Lukas
looks down and suddenly notices me. “Oops,” he whispers.
“What are
you two up to?” I snarl.
Athel
gives Kael another morsel and then pets him on the back. “Training,” he says,
pretending to sound casual. “What do you want, Dottie?”
“I fed Maha.
You’re welcome.”
He winces
at me then fluffs Kael’s feathers. “One more time, big boy.” He raises his arm
and rotates his wrist outwards. On cue, Kael takes off again.
I watch
him rise up in the gray sky, so elegant and beautiful in his own element, and
suddenly I feel small and wistful. I’ll never be able to fly like Kael, no
matter how badly I want to. I can only jump and glide, let the currents show me
the way. Rising up against the winds and choosing my own path is an impossible
dream for me, achievable only through technology denied to the Mayake people. As
I watch Kael’s silhouette rise and grow smaller, my anger dissipates like the
ephemeral ashes that the wind blew over from who knows where. So I scuff the
ground with the tip of my boots, turn away and go home.
Whatever
they’re up to, I decide I no longer care.
Chapter Eight
Athel
Day Number: 1,531
Event: Another death, Alina, age 8.
Number of Mayakes left: 431.
Goal for today: Record a map of the mesa.
The open hall on the sixtieth
floor looks haunted at night. Back when the Tower was a fully functioning
hospital, this was the psychiatric ward. The north and west walls are
completely gone, replaced by a loose curtain of vines dangling from the upper
levels. The wind makes them sway and howls inside the hollow cavity of the
remaining walls. I swear it carries the voices of the ghosts who once lived up
here.
“Ghosts
don’t exist,” Lukas says matter-of-factly. “If they did, we’d be able to
measure their magnetic field with something as simple as a compass app on our
data feeder.” He sits cross-legged on the floor and empties his satchel.
I don’t
believe him. Lukas doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know how many times
Akaela and I have climbed up here and listened for ghosts.
It’s not a
pitch-black night. The moon is out. It winks through the vines and weaves
silvery shadows on the floor. I stand on the ledge along the open wall and look
down into the emptiness below. The smoke on the horizon casts a yellow glow
over the mesa. I wish it didn’t. I wish the night were so dark I could count
the stars and see the Milky Way sweep the whole vault of the sky. I lift one
foot and for a moment I leave it hanging, dangling in the void while balancing
on the other foot. My heart races. I imagine the
plunge, and the thought alone sends adrenaline rushing through my veins. I’ve
watched Akaela jump from this exact spot so many times. She has a gliding sail,
I don’t. Yet I could never master what she does.
She
perceives fear for others—though it feels as though she’s angry—but
not for herself. Dad says her implants messed up something in
run away. They don’t come after me this time. They throw rocks and yell, “It
doesn’t end here, bitch! We’ll get you next time!”
I run all
the way back to the Tower without ever stopping to catch my breath. Up in the
sky, Kael veers west and makes a dip toward the riverbanks. I slow down to a
brisk pace and follow him. Yuri and his brother were right. Athel’s
standing by Skull Rock, holding up his gloved arm for Kael to land. His
friend Lukas is with him, seated on top of the rock with his data feeder
propped on his bony knees.
I stomp
all the way there and glare at my brother, fuming.
Athel
barely acknowledges me, his attention on Kael. The falcon flaps his broad wings
and lands gracefully on Athel’s arm.
“Good
boy,” Athel says, rewarding him with a piece of meat.
“Two
hours, seventeen minutes and forty-two seconds,” Lukas calls. “But I’m not sure
he went all the way to—”
“Shh!”
Athel interrupts him.
Lukas
looks down and suddenly notices me. “Oops,” he whispers.
“What are
you two up to?” I snarl.
Athel
gives Kael another morsel and then pets him on the back. “Training,” he says,
pretending to sound casual. “What do you want, Dottie?”
“I fed Maha.
You’re welcome.”
He winces
at me then fluffs Kael’s feathers. “One more time, big boy.” He raises his arm
and rotates his wrist outwards. On cue, Kael takes off again.
I watch
him rise up in the gray sky, so elegant and beautiful in his own element, and
suddenly I feel small and wistful. I’ll never be able to fly like Kael, no
matter how badly I want to. I can only jump and glide, let the currents show me
the way. Rising up against the winds and choosing my own path is an impossible
dream for me, achievable only through technology denied to the Mayake people. As
I watch Kael’s silhouette rise and grow smaller, my anger dissipates like the
ephemeral ashes that the wind blew over from who knows where. So I scuff the
ground with the tip of my boots, turn away and go home.
Whatever
they’re up to, I decide I no longer care.
Chapter Eight
Athel
Day Number: 1,531
Event: Another death, Alina, age 8.
Number of Mayakes left: 431.
Goal for today: Record a map of the mesa.
The open hall on the sixtieth
floor looks haunted at night. Back when the Tower was a fully functioning
hospital, this was the psychiatric ward. The north and west walls are
completely gone, replaced by a loose curtain of vines dangling from the upper
levels. The wind makes them sway and howls inside the hollow cavity of the
remaining walls. I swear it carries the voices of the ghosts who once lived up
here.
“Ghosts
don’t exist,” Lukas says matter-of-factly. “If they did, we’d be able to
measure their magnetic field with something as simple as a compass app on our
data feeder.” He sits cross-legged on the floor and empties his satchel.
I don’t
believe him. Lukas doesn’t know everything. He doesn’t know how many times
Akaela and I have climbed up here and listened for ghosts.
It’s not a
pitch-black night. The moon is out. It winks through the vines and weaves
silvery shadows on the floor. I stand on the ledge along the open wall and look
down into the emptiness below. The smoke on the horizon casts a yellow glow
over the mesa. I wish it didn’t. I wish the night were so dark I could count
the stars and see the Milky Way sweep the whole vault of the sky. I lift one
foot and for a moment I leave it hanging, dangling in the void while balancing
on the other foot. My heart races. I imagine the
plunge, and the thought alone sends adrenaline rushing through my veins. I’ve
watched Akaela jump from this exact spot so many times. She has a gliding sail,
I don’t. Yet I could never master what she does.
She
perceives fear for others—though it feels as though she’s angry—but
not for herself. Dad says her implants messed up something in
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