Paradigm (9781909490406) by Ceri A. Lowe

cleared her throat and waited for the class to settle down. The quiet was pristine, beautiful, and she smiled at the class. While Carter melted in her enigmatic presence, there was something imperfect, incomplete about her. She hadn’t made Controller. But he would.
    There were nods throughout the room, especially from Isabella who had chosen to sit next to him. Isabella with the voice as velvety soft as moss, like the song of a nightjar. Isabella: the girl with the short white-blonde hair and eyes that sparkled in the sun. Carter turned his head to catch another glimpse of her sweet, crooked smile. Inquisitive, mischievous and daring, Isabella had been the first person to climb the tall oak on the west side of the Community to get a glimpse of the fallen city on the other side. She winked back at him as Mendoza continued.
    â€˜We waged war on different sectors of our society, marginalised and sidelined until it was person against person, legitimised by the media. So much so that after the Storms we made no attempt to recreate the past. When something is broken,’ she paused and looked around at the room, ‘we don’t fix it. We reinvent it.’
    From next to him, Carter heard a voice cut through the quiet.
    â€˜So were the Storms a good thing?’ It was Isabella.‘Anticipating my homework once again, Isabella?’ said the professor. ‘As you have asked the question, I’ll give you all a head start in your preparation. I would like you to pair up and, before the next session, debate whether the Storms were a good or a bad thing. Take whatever side you want to—there is no right answer. Because, in short, the Storms were what they were: a horrific and catastrophic disaster that destroyed the majority of human and animal life and created an almost impossible legacy. But what we have now, well, it’s perfect, isn’t it?’
    Carter turned his head again and Isabella lifted her eyebrows at him.
    â€˜You can be my partner,’ she mouthed. Carter nodded in agreement with the air of someone who didn’t care too much, but when he turned back to face the front of the room, his cheeks burned flame red. He lost himself in the words of the professor as she continued and tried hard to ignore the aching desire to see if Isabella was looking at him. But even when he felt her eyes boring into him, he didn’t move.
    â€˜Tomorrow we’ll run the same exercise but discuss our cryonic freezing processes, so you’ll need to complete your homework this evening,’ said the professor. ‘But first, we’re going to watch a short screening.’
    When the picture stated moving, Carter alternated between his slate and the main screen, listening to Professor Mendoza and trying hard to stop thinking about Isabella.
    â€˜There was simply nowhere above ground that was safe for a long time. The Storms, in one form or another, lasted for just over five years.’ Professor Mendoza paused for a few seconds as the camera panned across expanses of black water, dotted with pale-coloured floating objects.
    â€˜For those who survived above ground after the first storms hit—and there were very few—life was impossible. With no recourse to clean water, heat or food, most died within the first few days—others within weeks, and mostly from radiation poisoning. It was only those fortunate enough to have been rescued and brought to the Industry facilities who survived. You won’t be surprised to know that a large number of those were under the age of eighteen. Children, it turned out, were a great deal more resourceful than adults.’
    Carter couldn’t imagine it any other way. Controller Generals were always appointed before their eighteenth birthdays. He planned it to be before his sixteenth, whatever era that happened to be in. Next to him, Isabella raised her hand and he felt the rush of cool air as she moved.
    â€˜I have one more question,’