But famous and infamous weren’t exactly the same thing.

“Oh, good, Kaia, you’re back.” Analeigh finished fussing with the cards and swiped strands of blond waves away from her face. “We need to get started.”

“What’s with the cards?” I asked, plopping down on the floor next to her. The weight of Jonah’s cuff at my elbow made me nervous, but it felt safer to keep it on me. There was no way to stash it with all of them here, anyway.

“Just an idea I had so we can quiz each other. The pinks are establishment questions, blues are Historian questions, yellows are Earth Before, greens are wild.”

“She made us all switch off our brain stem tats, too,” Levi complained.

“Duh, Levi. If it was on, it would just give you the answers as soon as it heard the question.” Sarah rolled her eyes. “They’ll be off during our certification, too.”

There were five certification exams to pass over the next eighteen months, before we would be considered full Historians. The first one, set for about two months from now, covered simple things—facts that we learned as first and second years. We should all know the answers, but my best friend tended toward overpreparing and Oz had backed her up. I’d gone along to appease Analeigh, Sarah hadn’t wanted to argue with her boyfriend, and I didn’t know why Levi had decided to come. The other two girls in our class, Peyton and Jess, had opted out.

I felt a little jealous of them in the face of the rather daunting pile of cards.

“Everyone grab one of each color.”

Analeigh picked out hers, and then I snagged three of each and handed two back to Oz and Sarah on the couch. Once Levi was ready, Analeigh started with a pink one.

“Name a science that was discontinued by the establishment team, and give a cause and effect.”

“Who answers?” Oz asked.

“Um, let’s go with the person on my right. So, Sarah.”

“Okay, so … advanced medicines. Like, ones extending longevity.” She looked to Analeigh for approval, her face breaking into a smile at our roommate’s nod. “It was discontinued in order to head off the kind of overpopulation we had on Earth Before, and an effect is a return to the life expectancy of the mid-twentieth century—seventy-one for women, sixty-six for men.”

I had answered in my head, just to make sure I could, but my mind had gone again to my brother. Overpopulation concerns meant I was the only person in this room with a sibling. Maybe that’s part of why they couldn’t understand how I could miss him after everything he’d done.

“Right! Good. Now you go,” Analeigh encouraged.

Sarah turned over her own pink card, turning toward Oz with a soft smile. “This one is easy. Recite the single law that governs Genesis, as written by the Originals.”

“This is dumb,” Levi interjected. “A five-year-old could answer that.”

“Oh, dry up, Levi. It’s going to be on the certification.” I kind of agreed with him, but it must have taken Analeigh hours to make these silly cards.

Oz cleared his throat, ignoring the conversation as usual, and answered. “Do no harm, for each is equal to the next, and each offers what they are able.”

“Yes. Beautiful.” Sarah leaned up to kiss his cheek.

“My turn.” Oz looked down at his green card and flicked a glance in my direction. “Name at least four of the seven planets in Genesis. Include at least one purpose for which they were specifically terraformed.”

Ugh. Of course I would get the long answer.

“Sanchi, terraformed for academia. Petra, hydrotechnology and drinking water. Angkor, swampy to support the production of sugarcane and cypress. And Roma, industry and production.”

Oz said nothing, just flipped the card back onto the pile.

I chose a green card, too, and read the question to Levi. “Name four sanctions outlined in the Guide to Penalty Determinations.”

“Too bad that’s not your question, Kaia. I’m sure you have them memorized.” He continued when I ignored the teasing jab. “Exposure, exile to Cryon, mopping duty, delay of certification.”

“Yep.” In truth, I’d only experienced one of those—mopping duty. Just thinking about the others gave me the willies.

“Okay, Analeigh. The aptitude tests determine whether we will pursue career or labor at age ten. Give the percentages of each path, along with the names of at least six of the Academies.”

“Sixty to forty percent, career to labor. Energy Resources, Environmental Sustainability, Theoretical Science, Genetics, Architecture and Terraforming, and Space Exploration.”

The next hour went on the same way, with easy answers like the year the time travel formula was isolated—2460 CE—the discovery of Genesis by the Original team of scientists in 2463 CE, the decision to terraform and evacuate Earth Before in 2498. The following ten years were spent making decisions regarding facets of society like organized religion, which had been determined to contain an inherent polarizing ability. They would be avoided as the Originals established our new System.

We didn’t stumble over a single answer, but it was kind of good to go over the information, anyway. Each of our families, settlers of this new world, had been chosen due to a variety of genetic and historical factors. A reminder of our short past made me thankful.

The alarms on our watches beeped five minutes before nine-thirty, signaling the end of our free time. The boys got up and made their way to the door, Oz sneaking in a quick, slightly awkward hug with Sarah before slipping into the hallway.

“That was fun,” I commented drily.

“It was helpful,” Analeigh stressed, striding into her room and yanking her blue pajamas out of a drawer.

Sarah and I made eye contact and smiled.

“Tomorrow’s a big day, Kaia.” Sarah yawned. “Have you decided what you’re going to do?”

My seventeenth birthday. True Companion go-time. It had never been a big deal to me, or anyone else for that matter, but Sarah had different feelings about it. For obvious reasons. “I’ll probably find out. Why not?”

“You never know,” she said, cheeks reddening.

“I guess that’s true.”

But that wasn’t always the case. Sarah and Oz were the anomaly. The exception, not the rule. I wouldn’t be so lucky.

*

Stars in My Pies, a popular restaurant a brief stroll from most of the Academies, was pretty crowded for the middle of the week. Older kids from different apprenticeships filled several tables—pass restrictions expired once we turned eighteen. The insignias on their breasts were hard to distinguish from far away, and I sucked at keeping everyone’s colors straight. It looked like some Mentors and perhaps some kind of Medical Science Academy apprentices joined us for the evening.

I must share my birthday with a few others, because there were at least two tables filled with kids too young to be out without a special pass, plus a red vinyl booth occupied by another group of Historian apprentices in my class.

I knew Jessica Beaton’s birthday and mine were the same. She’d been born on Petra, an outer planet that contained mostly water, but we’d been at the Academy together for years. We’d never gotten along.

I wondered if she was going to find out the name of her True Companion tonight. In general, I felt more curious than swoony over the whole thing, probably because of the impossibility of it all. Still, it would be interesting.

“Kaia, Analeigh, over here!” Sarah’s happy voice floated over the laughter and mid-twentieth century music floating out of a reconstruction of something called a jukebox. It ran on digital files like everything else, but the owner, Max, liked the throwback feel of the place. The robot servers even wore roller skates and red gingham aprons.

The metal chairs made screeching noises as they scraped against the black-and-white tiled floor, and Analeigh and I flopped into them. I hadn’t told her about finding Jonah’s cuff even though keeping secrets made me nervous. She knew me well enough to know I was hiding something, so if we’d been alone it would have been nothing but an endless interrogation. Thank goodness Sarah and Oz had been granted passes to celebrate with us. I needed a buffer.