Harper turned around as soon as I crossed the threshold, a glass of red wine in her hand.

  I have so many questions, but I’m too tired to ask.

  “Mia! You’re back. How are you?” She rushed toward me. Relief radiated from her one-armed hug.

  “Pretty good... How did you get in here?”

  “Oh, I stole your key code the other day. Well, technically I cloned it, so I could make myself at home.”

  “Naturally.” I shrugged as she handed me a glass. “This is definitely not on the recovery menu.”

  “Just to take the edge off. Alcohol doesn’t really affect us the way it used to since we metabolize it so fast now, or something like that.”

  “But it’s contraband?”

  “Naturally.”

  I rolled my eyes at her flippancy but accepted the drink. What’s that old saying? Better to ask for forgiveness than permission. She motioned me toward the white suede sofa in the small living area, flanked by two matching armchairs and the coffee table.

  “The first night back can be... disorienting,” she said carefully. “I thought you might want company.”

  I nodded. She was right. I was already glad for the distraction.

  “You could have warned me,” I said with an unexpected edge in my voice. Part of me felt betrayed.

  “Sure. But then you’d just go in scared. How would that have helped? Everyone’s different. My experience could have been different from yours. At least, I hoped it would be.”

  “I guess.” I paused, unsure if I was ready to talk about it. “They kept saying I wouldn’t remember... But I do. Every second in the dark. Even when it was just voices echoing from somewhere far away.”

  And the pain.

  Harper nodded, hearing what I didn’t say. “Same. But the guys don’t seem to remember. Or so they claim. They recall being sedated, then waking up sore, or lost, or half-mad.”

  “So it’s just us?”

  “The Lucky Ones.” She winked. I wasn’t amused.

  “Are we bringing girl bands back?”

  “Like KPop from the ’20s? I’m down.”

  “We’ll probably have to recruit backup dancers.”

  “Oh, the guys will line up. Trust me.”

  “Should we organize a talent show like at summer camp?”

  “What’s that?”

  “What’s what? A talent show or a summer camp?”

  “Both?”

  I explained sleep-away camps and talent shows during summer breaks from school. Harper’s eyes lit up. Sometimes I forget that not everyone had comforting memories of before.

  Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Before the Cold Civil War and the Rising, my only worry as a child was who to play with at recess or where to sit at lunchtime. Many other children weren’t so lucky. They felt the effects of a divided country much earlier in everyday life from the civil unrest, unpopular foreign policies, and steep economic decline. Millions of people lost their jobs as AI was introduced into every facet of life. A lot of kids I went to school with had parents out of work and it showed in their clothes, lunches, and angry outbursts.

  Then, in the 2030s, the country fractured further when the President started his illegitimate third term. During the Rising, democracy was reinstated through a rough transfer of power and free elections, but the damage was irreversible. Politicians took a hard left turn, but democracy is slow to act. When the Flu Pandemic hit in ’32, we weren’t ready.

  Life’s hardships were further compounded by climate change, which brought fire tornadoes to the West, devastating hurricanes to New England, and relentless flood seasons to the South. I remember watching in horror, alongside my parents, as the levees failed and the rivers swallowed the Deep South, leaving a shallow inland sea, wetlands, and marshes that resettlers called the Float Lands.

  The government didn’t have the money or resources to respond to failing infrastructure or organize aid for those affected. Communities were on their own, and this became the trend nationwide. Corporations like ViraRx acted quickly, offering aid and support; no one questioned their interventions after that—they already had the people’s loyalty.

  I remember asking my mom once, “Why bring children into a world you left nothing for?”

  She looked at me like I’d asked the hardest question imaginable. “We were young and full of dreams, your father and I. We wanted a life that mattered. When your brother was born in 2020, the whole world shut down for the Covid Pandemic. Everywhere was on fire suddenly, and nothing felt familiar. No one taught us how to raise kids in that world. We had to improvise to survive. Our lives were built on broken promises, lies, and trying to fix what we could never control. But still, we loved fiercely. This life would be pointless without you kids. And who knows? Maybe there’s still time to leave the world better than we found it.”

  I felt the weight of her words in my chest. And yet, in that small living room, with Harper’s excitement at something as simple as summer camp, maybe Mom was right. Change could still be possible.

  But if scientists and engineers like Mom and Dad couldn’t do it, and politicians failed... who could?

  “I have to get back before curfew,” Harper said, pulling me from my thoughts. She stood by the window, fingers tracing the pendant of her gold necklace as she studied her own reflection. “Otherwise the Hounds will find me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “They have dogs trained on our scent. I guess the nanobots left us with a distinct odor only the Hounds can smell. They tracked Elijah—Patient 15—when he short-circuited and went hiking through the forest, sans clothes. ArtSkin saved him from the bites.”

  “Yikes.”

  Her hazel eyes lingered with some unspoken thought as she gathered our empty glasses and the bottle she had brought. “See you in the morning, Mia.” She slipped out before I could ask more.

  I was alone again. It was quiet. Too quiet.

  I decided a shower would make me feel better. I was grateful Derek had packed my own shampoo. Warm water washed away the clinical scent of their soaps. My arms bore faded bruises of yellow, blue, and brown. Flashes of memory and fragments of conversation tried to make sense in my mind.

  Clean and dressed for bed, I lay there tossing and turning, alternating between remembering and trying not to remember. Then I allowed a new thought to take control: Cancer-free.

  “Hi 17, I detect acceleration in your heart rate. Do you need assistance?” Alice chimed through my hearables.

  “No... uh... thanks. I’m fine.”

  “Would you like a sedative to help you sleep? I can dispense one to your medicine cabinet.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Understood. Goodnight, 17.”

  “Goodnight...”I guess I’m never truly alone.

  But sleep eluded me. For the first time as an adult, I feared the dark and the dreams that waited there. I moved to the couch, lying on my side, eyes fixed on the dark woods beyond the glass. I wondered what secrets lurked out there, but I wasn’t ready for the answers—yet.

  I watched the sun creep up. After much frustration, I decided to forgo sleep. I got dressed in a clean tracksuit that had been pressed and carefully laid out for me. Walking to the windows, I saw sunlight glittering across freshly dusted, snow-covered trees. Frost edged the glass, but it was warm inside.

  That is, until someone opened the front door.