Circ and me.
Me and Circ.
Surrounded by our families, by the ones we love.
Unity (the city previously known as the New City or Glass City)
Tristan
I’ve got the weight of a crumbling world on my shoulders, and yet I feel lighter than the birds soaring over the glass dome, which is once more sealed tight at the gate and providing filtered air to all who reside within its bounds.
I’ve got a million things on my mind, and more than a million people, but I’m spending today with my family and friends. A day off. Adele will join me later; she said she had something important to do.
My mother is sitting beside me, gazing at the birds high above, just like me.
“Do you think we’ll ever be able to live out there?” she asks the birds.
I shake my head. “I don’t know,” I say. “Maybe this great earth will heal itself eventually, but at least for now we can live above.”
“I don’t think I want to,” she says quickly.
I look at her but she holds her gaze far past the Dome, on the sky and the birds wheeling overhead, playing on the wind.
Something happened to her. Something bad. She’s not the same person that she was. Slow to laughter, heaviness in her eyes. Every time I ask Adele about what happened, she tells me everything except about my mother. If I want to know those parts I have to ask her, she says. I haven’t, and Mother hasn’t exactly volunteered the information. Maybe someday…
“Where will you go?” I ask.
Finally, her expression lightens. “The Realm,” she says.
I smile at the name, one of the many good decisions the Unity Council has made since its creation. No more “Tri.” No more “Sun, Moon, and Stars.” Everyone equal, living where they choose to live. In all honesty, the cramped caverns of the old Star Realm will likely be abandoned, possibly the old Moon Realm caverns too.
It all depends on how many citizens decide to come above, which was another awesome decision made by Unity, a unanimous vote. All humankind gets to choose where they live, whether underground or above, in the air-filtered glass dome, or outside.
Sun dweller scientists are already analyzing the air, trying to figure out what’s wrong with it, something that should have been done by Lecter. So far they’ve found at least six toxins that are deadly to humans over time. We’ll monitor them over the course of years to determine whether the levels are on the decline or consistent. Whether we’ll ever be able to live long lives outside of our domed city. Maybe someday our children, or our children’s children, can live like people used to, free to roam and inhabit the earth.
We’ve also abolished all the major systems put in place by Lecter in the New City, which has been renamed Unity. The first major human city on the face of the earth since Year Zero. Those living in Unity will be able to choose their jobs, what to eat, and where to live.
Because there’s not enough space in the city for the millions from the Realm that are expected to choose to come above, plans are being made to create additional cities, but only if we get the approval of the tribes that live on the lands we want to build them on. It’s not our world to take; it’s our world to share. And we’re the party crashers, so we have to play by their rules.
However, I fully expect Gard and Huck to approve our plans for a city on the eastern coastline of storm country, and the Tri-Tribes’ leaders to allow us to build at least one more city in fire country. As for ice country, we’ll be building a large memorial for the lost Icer tribe. It will stand for centuries to come as a reminder of the stupidity and tragedy of greed and intolerance. We can’t change the past, but we can remember it so we don’t screw up the future.
There are also early discussions about the potential to help the tribes build mini-domes over their villages, but only if they want them. Living in filtered air even part of the time could extend their lifespans by decades. But that’s a choice they’ll have to make. Of course, they’ll also have the opportunity to move into our cities if they want. Either way, we’ll respect their decisions and ensure they’re involved in ours wherever they affect them.
It’s all part of the New Constitution, which dissolved any forms of dictatorship and sustained the new council. The people will finally get their voice back.
“I’ll miss you,” I say, “but I’ll visit all the time.” I’m staying above, with Adele, a decision that was all too easy to make. We’ve both gotten too used to the real sun, and I have a feeling we’ll become good friends with our new acquaintances to the west.
She smiles, and though it’s not the full, eye-reaching smile I remember from the woman who used to read to Roc and I against the big tree in the palace gardens, it’s a start. “You’d better,” she says, putting an arm around me.
For just a minute, I lean in, a child in a man’s body, allowing myself to be held by the woman whose bold and creative decision so long ago played a major role in shaping the world for the better. She had a vision, and I was but a tool in her loving hands.
My mother, my hero. From the look in Adele’s eyes when she refuses to talk about what my mother did, I can tell she feels the same way.
“Hard at work, as usual,” a voice says from behind. “Or is it hardly working?”
“It’s my first break in days,” I say without turning around.
Roc comes around the front of the bench we’re sitting on. He’s holding Tawni’s hand and looking rather smug. “A few more days like this and my rise to the top of the Unity Council will be like taking candy from a spoiled prince,” he says.
My mother stands and hugs Roc, who kisses her on the cheek, sending warmth through my veins. She might’ve lost a son, but she got two back, even if one isn’t connected to her by blood.
“You can have this spoiled prince’s job anytime you want it,” I say. Joking aside, I was equal parts surprised and happy when Roc ran for a spot on the hundred-member Council. I was even happier when he got it. I might be the moderator for the meetings, but his vote counts every bit as much as mine. Although I’ve always considered him my equal—even when he was supposed to be my servant—it’s gratifying for the rest of the world to feel the same way.
As my mother hugs Tawni—who she’s taken a particular liking to—Roc says, “I don’t want your charity, Tristy.” He sits next to me on the bench and rests a hand on my shoulder. “Nor do I really want your job. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked me to.”
Damn Roc, always jumping from joking to saying stuff like that. I turn my head and try to discretely rub the mist out of my eyes, but he’s already laughing. “Cry baby,” he says.
I may be the moderator of the Unity Council and a former president of an entire underground nation, but I can still shed a happy tear or two for those I love.
This world is far from perfect, and it always will be, but with people like Roc and Tawni and Adele and my mother in it, life will always be well worth the struggle.
Unity
Adele
It’s strange to ride the elevator back up to a place I thought I might never see again. When I step out into the hallway, I can’t hold back my smile. Because where there used to be gleaming, sterile, white walls, there are now beautiful, colorful paintings of the world outside the Dome. A lizard—or ’zard as our fire country friends like to call them—bakes in the sun on a sandy dune; a forest-covered mountain rises almost to the ceiling; a ship crashes against a white-capped wave, sea spray spouting up and looking so real it’s like I’m in the midst of it all. Vibrant colors and life and change.
The wall paintings are all part of a movement to add color to a place that desperately needs it. The movement, appropriately called “Color Me Up,” is burning through the city like wildfire.