We need to finish repairing the transmitter before it’s too late. Then convince Edison to make the broadcasts. We must determine if anyone else is out there with technology or supplies we can use.
It’s beyond important that we do this. In fact, it’s mission critical if we hope to keep Nirvana going.
If for some reason the calculations I’ve written on the board in red are not yet complete, then Edison will need to finish them for me. What I have is close, but there are some variables that don’t quite add up. He will explain it all once he digs into them. They will not only demonstrate how dire the situation will become; they will help convince him to make the calls. At least, that is my hope. With him, one can never be certain.
When each new day begins, I change the number circled in red. It signifies how many days I believe we have remaining and serves as a visual reminder of the work that remains to be done.
I wish I could be more forthcoming about the true nature of the calculations, but I fear that someone other than you will find this letter.
Edison will need to explain the rest, once he’s had a chance to absorb all that we face. However, there’s a chance Edison may not be able to complete them on his own, given that he wasn’t the best student in graduate school.
If my premonition holds true, then he’ll need the rainbow-colored notebook I keep under the mattress in my quarters. It contains additional observations I’ve made along the way, though none of them have been vetted -- yet. I’m afraid they’re only conjecture at this point, but that’s what science is until it’s proven – nothing more than observation and theory.
Whatever else happens from here on out, you must not give up until Edison agrees to repair the radio and start making the calls.
If he refuses, you need to take it to The Committee and convince them to overrule. The very future of Nirvana is at stake.
As the final curtain draws near, I wish I had more inspirational words to share with you. Something more profound and meaningful. But as you know, I’m not the most eloquent man, especially when it comes to emotional situations or goodbyes. I tend to keep my thoughts short and emotions hidden, never to get lost in the minutiae of the moment.
In closing, let me say that I will miss you, my dearest Summer, more than any other in my lifetime. I am honored to have known you and to have called you my friend.
Please, never forget me because I will always remember you, no matter where I end up once I’ve taken my last breath.
I wish you Godspeed with the rest of your life.
Make it count.
Make it grand.
Make it memorable.
Don’t wait until you are old and gray like me before you find your passion.
CHAPTER 23
Krista took the next corner in the silo, pushing her feet past the bulkhead that led into the cafeteria. The bustle of citizens enjoying their daily allotment of food was almost deafening, their forks and knives clinking against the metal plates and the buzz of their high-pitched voices working against each other in a fight for auditory dominance.
The pace of her feet picked up, out of both instinct and need, wondering where Summer was hiding. The girl was always one to react first, then think, meaning she could be anywhere.
Zimmer had wanted Krista to leave the girl alone, letting her flail away in sorrow, only to use it against her when the next new crisis hit Nirvana.
His plan was valid, but only for those with certain intentions on their mind. The kind of intentions that included a planned mutiny or other underhanded actions.
Krista took the next left, then ran smack into Summer’s chest. The two of them bounced off each other and spun sideways in an off-balance stumble. Krista righted herself, then lunged forward to grab Summer’s elbow, spinning the girl around to face her.
“Get out of my way!” Summer shrieked, her face full of tears. Her hands went into fight mode, obviously hoping to break free and make a quick exit.
Krista doubled her grip to keep the girl under control. “I’ve been looking for you.”
Summer twisted sideways, continuing her resistance. “Let go of me!”
Krista set her feet, adding to her strength. “No, not until we have a talk.”
“Let go of her,” Liz said in a huff, her face appearing in the corridor ahead. “I said, let her go!”
Krista wasn’t sure why, but the tone of Liz’s second command convinced her to release her grip.
Summer pulled away an instant later and resumed her emotional trek down the hall, her legs taking long, awkward steps with a trail of tears marking her path.
Liz arrived with a shortness to her breath. “You need to let her be.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“She just found a letter from Alex. It was addressed to her.”
“What kind of letter?”
“The kind that makes emotional young ladies even more so.”
“What does that even mean?”
“It means she needs a moment to collect herself. And we need to give it to her.”
“Okay, but where is she going? Her room isn’t that way.”
“To his quarters,” Liz said. “Apparently, he left something for her. Well, actually, for all of us.” Liz waved a hand at Krista to follow in the same direction as Summer. “A notebook.”
When Krista and Liz arrived at Morse’s quarters, they found the door open and Summer on the floor, crying in a kneeling crouch, her hands outstretched and flat.
Liz brushed past Krista and went to Summer, also dropping to her knees. Her arms went around the girl, wrapping her in a sideways hug.
Krista ran a visual sweep of the room. It was empty. Not a stitch of furniture or anything else. Certainly not a notebook. Only the bare walls and floor remained, with the smell of cleaning solution in the air, which meant only one thing. The reclamation crew had already come through, clearing and cleaning the room for sanitation reasons.
It was one of Edison’s long-standing rules. Foundational rules. Rules that he and June had established back when Nirvana was first envisioned.
When someone died, their rooms were to be immediately emptied in case of lingering bio-hazard. That was the official reason. In truth, it was mostly done for personal reasons. A respect for the dead type thing.
Edison didn’t want gawkers or trinket hunters to arrive, pilfering whatever remained. It’s a human reaction, one in which looting becomes the norm, when everyone does without for so long.
Some would abscond with items for themselves. Others would do it for their children. All of them driven by the need to survive, gathering that extra tidbit that might help keep them alive or sane for one more day.
Edison believed by removing everything, there would be nothing left to steal. It would also render the possessions meaningless, once they were repurposed and mixed in with the supplies in inventory—all of it set to be repurposed, once the bio-hazard possibility had been ruled out.
“We have to find it,” Summer cried out.
“We will,” Liz answered, still holding Summer in an embrace.
“Then we better hurry,” Krista said. “Some of his stuff is certainly headed for the incinerator.”
Summer crawled out of Liz’s hug and pushed to her feet. She turned and took a deep breath, then the look on her face morphed from one of anguish to one of seasoned confidence.
Krista stood in amazement as the emotional wreck transformed herself into someone new, and did so almost instantly, with nothing more than a bold new breath and a wipe of her cheek with her sleeve.