Fractured Futures Read online

  This room is her safe place. It’s where she comes to remember home.

  Lucy hugs her tight. “Of course we’ll stay here, sweetie.”

  Mira stares at the green grassy carpet, but the twist of a smile raises her lips.

  “I’m starving,” Marco says. “Any chance we can get some food?”

  Mira pulls free of Lucy and shows us to a side room with a small eating area. It has orange tables just like the ones in the space station. She tells us she’ll arrange for food to be delivered.

  My stomach growls. I’m hungry, too, but I have a bad feeling about what’s to come. “So the food’s VR?”

  Mira glances up at me with an apologetic look on her face. It’s either that or chlorophyll.

  “As long as it’s not snake venom, we’ll deal,” Addy says, referencing our less-than-ideal stay on Alkalinia.

  “You mean those plants?” Cole asks. “They’re the Youli’s food?”

  They’re the Youli’s everything.

  Mira raises her hands to bound, cutting off Cole’s thousand follow-up questions about the plants.

  Wait! I shout, shutting the mental curtain like she taught me. Can I come with you? I extend my hand, hoping she’ll take me on the bound.

  She lightly brushes her fingers against my hand. I’ll see you soon. I promise.

  In a flash, she’s gone.

  13

  I’M SPRAWLED OUT ON A purple beanbag while my pod mates are busy checking out our room, not that there’s much to check out. It’s pretty much identical to our pod room. There’s the separate eating room, and then there’s a bunk room with five beds. So Mira isn’t staying with us. That bummed me out and obliterated my curiosity about the rest of the fake pod room.

  “Hey, J.” Addy waves a hand in front of my face.

  “What’s up, Ads?”

  She plops down on the beanbag next to me. “You know those pictures Mira showed us? Those are memories, right?”

  I feel guilty about my pity party, remembering how lonely Mira’s memories were. “Yes, but they weren’t just pictures. They were full sensory memories, including feelings.”

  “I got that,” she says. “What I didn’t get is why you were in one of them.”

  I try to replay Mira’s memories in my mind. For a moment, I thought I’d spotted a second person in one of them, but we only saw it for a flash. It’s like Mira flipped by that one extra fast.

  “I think I saw someone, too,” I tell her. “I don’t think it was a Youli, but it went by so quickly I couldn’t tell who it was. It wasn’t me, though. I’ve never been here before.”

  “Yeah, but it felt like you.”

  “Umm… really? What do I feel like?”

  Addy laughs. “I can’t explain. It just had an unmistakable Jasper feel to it.”

  “O-kay,” I say, drawing the word out. I have no idea what my sister’s talking about. “Maybe Mira confused one of her memories from our actual pod room with this virtual one.”

  Addy shrugs. “Maybe.”

  Marco throws himself on the ground next to Addy. “Maybe what?”

  “Nothing,” I say.

  “Just Jasper having a starring role in Mira’s memories.”

  “Oh! Do tell!” Lucy says from behind. I had no clue she’d been listening. “Jasper’s going to need a major pep talk when it comes to Mira!”

  I sit up. “Absolutely not.” I’ve got to find a way out of this conversation, and I might as well jump on the fact that we’re all getting along, at least for now. “Hey, Cole! Come here. Join us.”

  Unlike me, Cole has spent every second inspecting the virtual pod room. He exits the bunk room and crosses to our corner. When I wave at the turquoise beanbag, he sits, rod straight, exactly how he always used to sit in our actual pod room.

  “What did you find out about our fake pod room?” Lucy asks him.

  He shoots a glance at Marco and Addy. “Nothing of significance.”

  “Really, Wiki?” Marco asks. “Are we going back to party lines? Keeping secrets? Just when I thought we were starting to feel like a pod again.”

  “First, Marco,” Cole says, “there’s nothing to tell. For all intents and purposes, this room is practically identical to our other pod room, minus the obvious additions of the kitchen and bunk room. Variations are immaterial and likely due to imperfections in Mira’s photographic recollection of the room. Second, of course we’re back to party lines. I’m an Earth Force officer, and you are… not.”

  “We can’t be that rigid, Cole,” I say. “In fact, the future of Earth might depend on the five of us getting along and moving things forward.”

  Addy sits up on her beanbag. “Jasper’s right. This isn’t just the Earth Force hierarchy or the Resistance leadership structure anymore. We’re planetary ambassadors. All of us. We have a duty to our planet to work together for the greater good.”

  Cole wrings his hands together. He doesn’t like this. He likes order and rules, not blurred gray lines. Still, the fact that he’s sitting here and listening at all is progress.

  “There is something different about this virtual pod room,” he says.

  We all stare at him, waiting for him to deliver what’s sure to be something important.

  A hint of a smile pulls at his lips. “Mira has equipped it with Evolution of Combat.”

  * * *

  After we’ve had a chance to rest, play several intense rounds of Evolution, and eat (tater tots and tofu dogs, just like the Earth Force mess hall—come on, Mira, tofu dogs? Really? If we have to eat virtual food, can’t you at least give us something good?), there’s a glimmer in the middle of the pod room. The next second, Mira appears.

  She’s dressed in the same white gown she wore earlier, but her hair is different. Her long blond braid is gone. Instead, her hair falls in waves down her back and tiny, twinkling lights are woven in the strands.

  “You look like an angel,” Addy tells her.

  I think so, too, but I wouldn’t have said it out loud. Of course, what’s the difference since she can read my mind?

  Mira smiles. Come with me, she says to all of us. After her words, she fills our minds with music like nothing I’ve ever heard.

  “What is that sound?” Cole asks.

  Mira smiles even wider and offers Cole her hand.

  We gather around and link up. Mira closes her eyes for a moment, then bounds us out. When my feet feel solid ground, I open my eyes. We’re standing in a small, white, windowless room. The floor, walls, and ceiling all look to be made from the reflective marble-like substance of the grand hall where we arrived.

  The air is filled with music. It’s not the same song Mira shared earlier, but it’s similar.

  Mira leads us from the white room to the entrance of an enormous pavilion. It might be the same grand room where we arrived, or it could be another one like it. The floor is the same white marble. The walls are windows, and the interior is filled with columns stretching skyward and wrapped with vines.

  What’s definitely different from our arrival is that there are Youli everywhere. They’re sitting cross-legged in small groups, sprawled on cushions in pairs, leaning alone against columns.

  “There’s so many.” Lucy’s words are a fear-laced whisper, but the sound is unwanted. Its tone interrupts the glorious music that seems to emanate from every particle in the place.

  Brain-talk, Addy says.

  It’s not just the floor that’s crowded. What I thought were dust motes earlier are actually tiny crystals, and there are millions of them. They hang suspended in the air. Some of them seem to dance. As we walk into the room, they part for us.

  It’s like a disco, Marco says.

  Addy shoots him a nasty look. Try fairyland.

  Shhh! I shush them. Even their brain-talk is way too loud.

  Fragrance drifts in the subtle air current. It’s not the overwhelming smell of roses like in Lucy’s office, or even the spicy scent of Nev and Dev’s salon. It smells of lavender and hot tea, like how peace itself would smell if it had a scent. I inhale deeply.

  As we weave our way through the room, we have to dodge and duck vines. Their offshoots have broken free from the columns and sway in time to the music. The music grows even louder, and it seems to resonate from everywhere. I’m with Addy. This place is magical.

  What is this? I ask Mira, opening my mind to all my pod mates.

  Mira flicks her eyes at me with a smile. Union Song. Come. Sit.

  She leads us through the crowded pavilion. The Youli part to let us through. There’s a subtle chattering at the edges of my mind as we pass. Greetings. One for me and my pod mates, another, more formal greeting for Mira. It must be some kind of ritual. As Mira passes, the Youli incline their heads, then turn away.

  Mira finds a free spot on the crowded floor. It’s just big enough for the six of us. Thick, colorful pillows form a small nesting area. Mira sits, and we sink to the ground next to her. The pillows mold around me. Their satin is soft against my skin.

  When we’re all seated, Mira sends us a memory. We’re on the Paleo Planet. She raises her gloved hands and conjures a complex melody to lull the wildeboars and quell the stampede. That day we instinctively knew how to join her song.

  There’s no mistaking that the music we’re immersed in now is emanating from the Youli. Mira closes her eyes and gently touches our mental circle. When she senses we’re all tuned in, she adds her voice to the communal song. At first, her voice can be heard distinctly. It’s not a singing voice. It’s more like the brassy tones of a piano mixed with the tinkling of high notes on a vibraphone merged with what I imagine Mira’s actual voice would sound like. Her song begins to blend with the larger song all around us.

  Once her harmony is established, she opens her eyes. Join, she says to all of us.

  Cole shoots me a glance and shakes his head.

  “Oh, come on,” Addy whispers. “Give it a try!”

  Marco eyes her sideways. “Yeah?”

  She lifts a finger to her lips, reminding him to whisper so he doesn’t disturb the Youli. “Since when do you shy away from trying something new and potentially embarrassing?”

  Marco nods. “Good point.”

  My sister closes her eyes in concentration. I hear the first sounds she adds to the song. They’re just single notes, far from complex, but they’re beautiful, like the heart-piercing tones of her violin.

  I concentrate on the music, feeling the melody and its many harmonies wind through my mind and my body. Soon, I’m swaying and tapping my fingers against the ground. My own notes rise up from somewhere deep inside. They mingle and entwine with the sounds all around me.

  When I’m confident I can sustain my music, I open my eyes. Addy smiles at me and nods. Her face tells me everything I need to know. She’s loving this. She’s holding Marco’s hand. His eyes are closed, but his lips are moving, almost like he’s singing. Lucy is sitting cross-legged and rocking back and forth. Cole… well… he’s trying. In fact, even as I watch him, he seems to relax and settle into the music.

  I sense Mira next to me and pull our mental curtain. This is amazing.

  She places her hand on top of mine and leans her head against my shoulder.

  Time stops meaning anything as we fully give ourselves to Union Song. Crystals dance before our eyes. Vines snake across the ground and twist in the air. The music burrows beneath our skin and fills our very bodies. When the melody lifts in triumph, we all swell with pride. When the song turns melancholy, we slide into sadness. The longer I stay connected to the song, the more my awareness widens. Without even using my gloves, I can sense the greater world around me. My awareness stretches far beyond our small network. I’m acutely aware of all the Youli in the room. Then I’m aware of the Youli beyond this room, knowing with complete certainty that we’re joined in song by every Youli in every crystalline tower on this vast planet.

  It’s not as if I sense each Youli individually, or even that I sense them collectively.

  What I sense is our interconnectedness, our union.

  * * *

  I lose myself in the song. Five minutes may have passed, or it may have been five hours. If someone told me I’d been sitting here lending voice to this song for five days, I’d probably believe them. Still, the music could go on for five more days and I wouldn’t want it to end.

  Except I’d probably be hungry. And my legs might fall asleep. But those are logistical problems.

  The point is, I love everything about Union Song. And what I love most is sharing it with Mira. When I focus, I can find her voice among the millions of strands of music. I weave my notes with hers. Together, we blend in harmony.

  More time passes, and Mira lifts her head. She takes a deep breath and pushes up on her knees, clearly preparing to stand.

  I grab her hand. Not yet, please.

  She gently frees her palm. We need to go.

  My pod mates look up, and I realize I’ve been talking into our wider communication circle. Heat rises to my cheeks. I shouldn’t have tried to make Mira stay, or thought that our harmony was anything more than two voices among many.

  Our visit to the Youli home world is temporary. Odds are, whatever passes between Mira and me while we’re here is also temporary. It’s going to end, just like this song. Even if I convince her to return to Earth, she probably will never see me as more than a friend.

  I pull myself away from the melody. I gesture at my pod mates to stand and follow Mira, who’s already weaving through the crowd.

  “That was awesome!” Marco says, hopping to his feet.

  “Quiet!” Lucy whispers. “You’ll disturb the song.”

  Marco gives a thumbs-up followed by a zipping motion across his lips.

  We quietly trail after Mira across the massive pavilion filled with Youli.

  As we go, the Youli watch us. I’m again aware of the mental chatter as we pass. The Youli nod at Mira and turn away. Some of them eye us inquisitively (I mean, we are aliens. I’d stare, too, if I saw a Youli on Earth), but most of them seem to be looking at Mira.

  We finally make it to the other side of the wide room. We reach an archway sealed with golden doors. A Youli stands to either side. They appear to be guards, although they don’t carry weapons.

  Mira stands before them. She bends her chin to her chest. Both Youli bow. When they stand, they wave their hands before the doors. The golden panels swing wide.

  After a final glance back at us, Mira steps into the room. We follow.

  The room we enter is a perfect circle. My first thought is that it reminds me of the Forgotten Shrine on Alkalinia. There’s something special, almost reverent, about the room. Detailed scenes woven into rich tapestries cover the walls. Modern sculptures and mobiles adorn the space, and the room is filled with dancing crystals. The smell of lavender is present here, too, but it’s stronger and laced with something rich and warm like cinnamon. Union Song has not diminished within the walls of this room. If anything, it swells even stronger.

  Of course, this room is really nothing like the Forgotten Shrine, because where the shrine’s ceiling was low and made for slithering snakes like Serena, this ceiling is high like the pavilion. The edge of the circle is covered in cushions of gold, silver, and bronze.

  Roughly a dozen Youli are seated on the cushions. Their hands are folded serenely on their laps, and their bodies sway gently in time to the music. There’s no doubt these Youli are fully immersed in Union Song.

  Once the six of us have entered the room, the Youli guards seal the golden doors. The walls of the room pulse with the intensity of the song, and I begin to see that the tapestries are here to absorb and contain some of the sound. As I’d guessed when we entered, the intensity of song in this room alone is more immense than the music filling the pavilion.

  The seated Youli don’t break from the song, but I can sense them bringing us into their awareness. I reach out with my mind for the edges of their consciousnesses, just as I do with Mira. But when my awareness rubs up against theirs, I pull back. There’s something different in the quality of the collective awareness in this room. It hums with a wisdom and depth far beyond anything I’ve known.

  Mira gestures for us to sit on some of the open cushions scattered around the room. I take a seat between two Youli. Without the security of my friends beside me, I’m very aware of the aliens’ presence. Still, the song is seductive. I let down my guard and close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I reach out for the melody and add my voice to the song.

  I’m not sure how long we sing. My mind goes someplace else, or maybe no place at all. It simply empties of everything other than our song and the collective presence of the other voices. I’m vaguely aware of being hungry and tired, but those sensations are at the periphery of my consciousness, and certainly not strong enough to distract me from the music. More time passes still, and even though my mind is nearing exhaustion, I don’t want the song to end, even if it means singing myself to sleep right here on this cushion.

  Something in the song shifts. The music swells and narrows until there’s a final tone blended in harmony across many octaves. The note builds and resonates until the crystals in the air vibrate with light. The entire crystalline tower vibrates. The vessels carrying my blood vibrate.

  And then there is silence.

  After all that music, the silence is immense. It’s so heavy I want to shout or cry out or do something, anything, to fill the quiet. I catch Marco’s eyes across the room. He’s visibly shaking. Knowing Marco, it’s taking every ounce of self-control he has to stay quiet. I don’t know what’s supposed to happen next, but I’m pretty sure it’s not Marco or me blabbing about how great the tunes are.