Pigeon continued, “We went down in the elevator and found ourselves in the middle of a riot. They were killing each other. I saw big knives and shovels. A few were riding the floaters and running people over. Neci and several of the others managed to push through to a nearby building. One of the recreation houses next to the swimming pools. We barricaded ourselves in. There were two others inside, but we didn’t see them when we entered. We shut the door, and they appeared from shadows. We managed to kill them, but they killed one of us in the fight. They badly wounded another. Within a day, her wounds proved fatal. Jos and Nimm. Three down by then.”
“Our companion bots seemed just as distraught as we were. They were frantic. Zipping around and looking through windows. Sometime that next night, the bots of the three dead shut down. They must’ve been declared useless by the others.”
A sense of guilt panged inside Syn. Would Blip shut himself down if she died? Was he that loyal to her? She had always felt he was obligated to serve her, but that if she was gone, he’d find something else to do. Perhaps not. Or, was he shut down at that moment because he was certain she was dead? Had he concluded that there would be only one outcome once they went down to the second Disc? Had he just given up knowing that she’d die? If so, how would she turn him back on?
From outside the room, something clicked and a muffled voice spoke. It was far away, far down the empty hall. Syn couldn’t grasp the words.
She expected Pigeon to rush away. Instead, the girl scooted closer. She put her lips on Syn’s ear. The rush of air sent a shiver down Syn’s spine, and her fingers groped for Pigeon’s hand. Their hands met, their fingers interlaced, and Syn gripped tightly.
Pigeon spoke, “It wasn’t the mad ones who killed most of our Sisters.”
The shiver continued, but it was no longer because of Pigeon’s touch. Instead, she understood Pigeon’s meaning and her dread regarding Neci was substantiated.
Pigeon’s next words were like the raindrops outside—a stream without pause, “There was nothing but the Madness. We talked about the cause, and the only thing we could think was that maybe humans—normal humans, that is—aren’t capable of traveling this far into space. Their minds couldn’t adapt. Maybe if the entire ship had been us. Maybe if they had made some Adams.
Two things happened. We couldn’t escape the people in the Disc. They were mad. I was the one who suggested a solution. I wish I hadn’t. Neci and Tulce made it happen. We upped the oxygen content in the atmosphere and then locked ourselves in a Jacob up near the needle. We were desperate. We set the world on fire and let them burn. Some survived, but we were able to deal with them.”
A silence fell and the two laid there as the weight of Pigeon’s words gripped Syn. The Sisters had set the world on fire.
Pigeon continued, “The second thing was the lack of food. We’ve managed to grow some since. At first, it was a necessity. We were starving. Kin was the next to die and the first by our own hand. Neci made us do it. She said we had to eat. Kin was hurt badly. She wasn’t going to make it. We chose to hurry the process to keep the rest of us alive. We hated it, but we had to keep going. We even started hunting the survivors when we couldn’t find food elsewhere. We’ve been doing that for years. We’ve found ways to grow food, there’s a few food units in the farm layer that are still working, and we’re keeping animals alive. But when one of us dies, we still do it. Tulce died just days before you arrived. She was wounded during one of Neci’s plans to help us escape this place. We held off on a meal until you joined us last night.”
Syn shut her eyes. These weren’t just copies of herself. They were something else. And she had joined them. She had… She felt herself start to gag and shut her mouth tight. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and she gasped. The bile filling her mouth was bitter, and she grimaced at the taste.
“You had to know,” Pigeon squeezed Syn’s hand tight.
“Why?” Syn croaked. The world was floating away—spinning and darting as the thought of the charred meat in her stomach beat at her.
“You must know. We’re not just mean. We’re not just survivors.” Pigeon let go of Syn’s hand and began to slide out of the bed. The cool air rushed in between the parting sheets. From the far side of the room, Pigeon’s final words that night leaked out, “We’re evil.”
Syn fell out of the bed and crawled to a far corner. She retched and vomited in the dark. Over and over, the meal that included pieces of corn and something green and Tulce was hurled against the wall.
31
A DANCE OF LIGHTS
“Two footsteps do not make a path.”
The selection prepared for breakfast wasn’t quelling Syn’s turbulent stomach. Pigeon’s revelation hovered like a ghost. From some reading, possibly the words of Paul, Syn heard “Flesh of my flesh… If you eat of me…” Her stomach churned again.
The table was sparse. A plate of some hardened chunks of bread. A strange collection of fruits that Syn had never seen. A few of the ripe apples, but only a few. Rounding out the fare was a small plate in front of each of them with a stiff, dried-out strip of meat. Syn clenched her teeth and averted her gaze from the brownish piece in front of her. It’s not human. It’s not human. It’s not me. It’s not me.
But she knew that was a lie.
“We’re out of apples,” Neci said, from the far end of the table where she and Taji had been talking and giggling. This morning, Neci was dressed in a tight-cropped halter top and simple leggings, both as white as milk. The pronouncement was to the rest of them who all spread apart, quiet and distant. Kerwen sat between her and the other two. Pigeon had been there at one time but was gone and now was back and Syn couldn’t remember when she had ever stood up, only that the girl’s position had changed. She was like a black cat, moving between the shadows and disappearing as soon as she appeared.
Kerwen dropped her fork and groaned, falling forward and slamming her head against the table in mock resistance. “Do I have to?”
Syn leaned in and whispered, her first words all morning, “Do what?”
Neci raised her arms, palms up. “Taji has another assignment. Pigeon’s helping me in the workshop. You can have our stranger at the gates do it, but I don’t think she knows the way.”
Syn’s eyes widened at the sound of the word “workshop.” Neci shot her a glance but didn’t comment, instead saying, “Perhaps if you show her how and where, she can do it next time. Consider it training your replacement.”
Kerwen’s head lifted, and she narrowed her eyes at Neci.
Neci smiled. “Poor choice of words.”
The apology didn’t abate Kerwen’s concern. Not taking her eyes off of Neci, Kerwen said, “We’ll go in an hour.”
Neci held up a hand. “Go the first part of the way with Taji—always good to go together.”
Taji began to protest, “I’m not—”
Neci put a hand on Taji’s arm and leaned in, staring into the girl’s eyes. “I need muscles. Big ones.” Standing up and walking away, she gave a short, sharp whistle and said, “Pigeon.”
From the far doorway, Pigeon appeared and walked with a stunted gait, hesitant to follow but doing so nonetheless, her eyes locked to the ground.
Syn muttered, scared to be heard by Taji, “The groves?” There were apple trees in the lower food levels, all manned by bots. She had visited them often, enjoying the walks between the tightly packed trees, fruit falling across her path. Her stays were always cut shorter than she wanted—the lower levels were all claustrophobia-inducing. The artificial light generators were embedded in the lowered ceiling, and it felt unnatural to have sunlight within arm’s reach, rather than far above in the emptiness of the false sky of Olorun. Syn shut her mouth tightly, realizing that, in asking, she had revealed more than she wanted. How would she explain knowing about the groves if the Ecology had her under lock and key all these years?