The truck rumbling down the dirt road would’ve awoken Sonoko had she not already been unable to fall back asleep. After harvest was typically the longest sleep of the year for the Makinos, but they no longer had that luxury.

  She had woken up long before the sun and long before she would on a normal morning. She had looked out the window, not recognizing the sky. Like every other night that week, her arm had been outstretched, reaching for her brother when she jolted up from sleep. She didn’t need to check the calendar to know that it was the anniversary. A cruel twist of fate.

  She grabbed a jar off her nightstand and pocketed it in her overalls.

  The letter sat collecting dust. It tempted her.

  Walking down the stairs, she heard her parents already awake and talking in the kitchen. Sonoko couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. She knew it was about Shin.

  Kosuke stood in front of a mirror that hung next to the front door. He was wearing his nicest shirt, freshly pressed. He made eye contact with Sonoko as she descended the stairs. His eyes carried even more judgement than normal. Without sharing a word, Sonoko exited out the front door. The baskets of Neon flowers sat on their porch, ready to be collected. They looked just as empty as she felt. Even with the future of the farm hanging in the balance, Sonoko reached down and removed a single flower from one of the baskets. The sun had risen, eliminating the glow of the flower. In the sunlight, it looked like a regular flower from their own world. She reached for the glass jar in her pocket and deposited the flower inside. Even without its enchanting glow, it was still more beautiful than anything on the skyline. With the lid closed tightly, she returned it to her pocket for later.

  Mr. Sato’s truck was parked in front of Chiba farm. The Makinos were next. Sonoko watched as Kiku, her father, and Mr. Sato loaded up a slaughtered cow corpse onto the back of the truck. Sonoko could hardly watch. As a girl, she asked Kiku in school how she could bear to watch the animals get killed. Kiku would always explain how meat was a rare delicacy in the city and that Sonoko didn’t understand because they didn’t have livestock on their own farm. Either way, Sonoko still didn’t appreciate the sight of the only other living creatures in Arcadia being murdered for a few rich people to enjoy their meat. Not the only other creature, her mind reminded her, the image of the fox the previous night appearing in her head. She had to convince herself that it hadn’t been a dream when she awoke.

  Kosuke opened the door and shuffled out onto the porch. He stood basking in the sunlight with his eyes closed. It reminded Sonoko of the Luminaeon in the light of the moon.

  Mr. Sato shook hands with the Chibas and sat back in the truck. The sound of the engine's ignition echoed through the fields, a sound their land was not used to. It chugged down the road to Makino farm.

  A lump formed in Sonoko’s throat.

  “Dad,” she said softly. His eyebrows twitched slightly, the only indication that he heard her speak. There was no use in telling him now. Not today. “I’m sorry,” was all she could manage. Kosuke’s lips tightened but he said nothing.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  The truck stopped in front of the house. Mr. Sato hopped out the cab, wiping the dust off his thick-rimmed glasses with the corner of his shirt. He was a representative of Osaki Neon and a native of the city, yet his disposition matched the farm life. Sonoko was sorry she would have to disappoint him. He approached the porch casually.

  “Good morning, Mr. Makino. Lovely day,” he said, extending his hand. Kosuke put on a false smile and returned the handshake. “And Miss Sonoko,” he said, pivoting. “I understand you’ve finished with your schooling? Are you going to join us in the city?” Sonoko wished he would skip the pleasantries and get it all over with.

  “I-” Sonoko started.

  “She’ll be staying on the farm to help,” Kosuke said with more fabricated merriment. Sonoko hid her confusion. “My back’s not getting any younger!” He chortled with a noise that did not fit him. Mr. Sato joined in.

  “Well, it’s an honorable profession indeed,” Mr. Sato said.

  “I’m glad you say so, not many people agree anymore,” Kosuke said bitterly.

  “Oh please, Mr. Makino. Without you, I’m out of a job,” he said with more of Kosuke’s false laughter accompanying it. Mr. Sato gestured to the baskets of Neon. “Let’s count them up shall we.” He grabbed one of the baskets and carried them to the back of the truck. Sonoko grabbed the other and followed him, the lump growing larger. Kosuke stayed on the porch, overseeing.

  Mr. Sato counted to himself, numbers flying under his breath. Sonoko stood behind, counting with him, waiting for the moment he realized there wasn’t enough.

  He approached the four hundred mark. Sonoko held her breath.

  “All right, thanks for your contribution,” Mr. Sato said. It was the send off that he was required to say for the company when he was done with collection. He handed the baskets to Sonoko, who stood shocked. That’s it? She thought.

  “Wait- I’m sorry,” she said, not wanting to sound frazzled. “We’re all set?” Mr. Sato paused for a moment and then seemed to understand what she meant.

  “Right, the quota dropped from 450 to 400,” Mr. Sato explained. “With the loss of the Watanabe’s farmland, we knew it would be short this season.” Sonoko told herself not to feel relief, as if Mr. Sato still held a devastating truth up his sleeve.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re 100% sure? We never heard about this,” she said, doubling down.

  “That’s the truth, Miss Sonoko.” He leaned in a little closer, eyes shifting as if someone would be listening. “To be honest with you, the reason we didn’t make a public statement about it is because Osaki Neon didn’t want to cause more panic in the city. Blackouts have reached the Circle now and even some suspensor lines in the upper districts have gone out.”

  “All because we don’t have enough Luminaeon?”

  “The Neon reserve should have enough to fix all these problems for the rest of our lifetimes, so we have nothing to worry about.” He flashed a company smile that underneath told Sonoko not to mention anything about the blackouts or suspensor trains. He hopped back into the truck and waved Makino farm goodbye as he chugged along to his next stop.

  Sonoko stood for a moment, the house obscured by the dust cloud left in the truck’s wake. She had just been bailed out by Osaki Neon themselves. A company so ruthless, that even one flower under quota, and your farm becomes the next sector of the city. Mr. Sato’s PR smile couldn’t hide what was obviously a big problem. Suddenly, she felt more removed from the city than ever.

  But, a win is a win, she told herself. Now that the truck was out of sight, it finally settled in that this was all real. All the words in her head that she was preparing to cry to her father were stomped under imaginary boots.

  Kosuke had returned back inside, not expecting anything to have gone wrong at all. Sonoko’s victory was just routine for him. She groped at the glass jar still in her pocket. Now it was time to deal with the other emotions the day was sure to bring.