Game Changer, Part 3

by Mary Ruth Pursselley

Robin dropped his pencil into the pile of paper on the table and sat back in his chair, rubbing his tired eyes and stubbled face. He’d taken the disk translation as far as he could. He was no linguist or angel expert, so most of the finer nuances and references in the inscription would have to be figured out by someone else, but he had understood enough.

Enough to make him laugh as he sat, face in his hands, exhausted and ecstatic. Enough to assure him that this was the find of a lifetime—maybe several lifetimes.

“Unbelievable,” he said aloud, referring not just to the disk and its writings, but to his own fortune in being the one to decode it. God was, as always, watching out for him… though His watchfulness and favor were surpassing even Robin’s wildest imaginings. He couldn’t possibly have deserved this.

He said a brief prayer of thanks, then looked at his watch. Doing so made him laugh again—he’d been sitting here for almost twenty-four hours. No wonder he was starving. He stood up and stretched, already working on a mental to-do list:  Arrange for the disk to be taken to Trinity University. Get a crew of interns assigned to Adagio to help him. Look into renting boats and diving equipment for an expedition to Funder’s Cove, where the fisherman had found the disk.

Oh—the fisherman. Robin remembered his promise to tell the man what the disk said. He rifled through the blizzard of papers on the desk until he found a blank sheet, grabbed his pencil again, and jotted down a basic outline of the translation.

As he wrote, he considered a few of the stranger points in the account. Strangest of all was the reasoning given for the angels’ decision to abandon their city, Light: an invasion that caused the loss of several lives, as well as considerable damage to the city itself. It wasn’t an invasion of humans—references to the Founders were very distinctly worded—but Robin was sure either he or Hanks must have mistranslated the symbol describing what the invaders were. It was too random, too bizarre. An invasion of crazy bugs, so crazy they nearly destroyed the city? Robin had no doubt that the linguist assigned to the disk would get a good laugh at his expense over that one. Oh well. He’d never claimed to be a linguist.

He was curious to find out what or who the invaders really were, though. Especially since the disk explained the angels’ realization that the event would take place again, because “such is their nature”. Whatever that meant.

As he headed for the bathroom to get a much-needed shave and shower—the last one he was likely to get for a while, if he set out on the expedition to Funder’s Cove as soon as he hoped—he suddenly stopped and grimaced. He’d promised that girl from the school in Zirconia that he’d contact her sister, the archaeologist, while he was in Adagio.

Well, he decided with a sigh, that shouldn’t take too awfully long—a day, at most. He’d get that out of the way, give the fisherman his rough translation of the disk, and then he’d be free to get to work.

Game Changer, Part 2

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Ash storms blasted Adagio all through the night, hissing and scratching against the window of Robin’s room, but he barely noticed. Morning came and went in similar fashion. He hadn’t slept or eaten since starting work on the angel disk the previous afternoon.

“Incredible,” he said aloud for what must have been the three-hundredth time—not that he was keeping track of that, either. He’d completely forgotten everything but the disk. He had a stack of paper covered with translations, notes, and corrections, most of which were scrawled so haphazardly that even he would have trouble reading it later. But that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the revolutionary information flowing from the disk’s inscription.

It was a Founding-by-Founding record of an angel civilization’s attempt to colonize land. If it was to be believed—and at this point Robin had no reason not to believe it—the angels had actually built a water-filled city, like a giant aquarium, on a peninsula that, according to the descriptions, wasn’t far from where the fishermen had found the disk.

A good portion of the inscription was taken up with growth records of the city’s population, descriptions of the algae and fish they raised for food, and a few incredible passages describing technological developments or cultural practices. There was scarcely a sentence in the entire thing that wouldn’t rock the academic world all by itself.

There were also several passages alluding to light and dark, and Robin had been at a loss for hours trying to decipher them. Finally, he had realized that the references to light and dark weren’t literal: the angels had named their city “Light”.

The name carried some literal connotation in that there was more light from the Whale on the surface than undersea, but most of it seemed to stem from the angels’ relief at having escaped the “dark ones” and what Robin took to be some kind of undersea war.

If he was interpreting the information correctly, Robin realized that this disk proved more than the fact that angels were sentient and intelligent. It proved that they were moral—creatures with understanding of right and wrong, and the means and will to fight about it.

The implications of that were staggering. Even Robin, whose love of revolutionary discoveries was unrivaled, had to wonder if Eclectia was ready to face this.

Game Changer Part 1

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Robin Corpsman kept clean living quarters. For all the faults he willingly owned up to, he at least had that to his credit. Weekly room checks during his years at boarding school and the university had trained him well.

There were times when clutter was a necessary evil, though, and this was one of them. The table in his hotel room was a wreck of books and diagrams surrounding the disk Robin had bought from the fisherman, Burt.

He had transcribed the symbols from the disk onto paper—reading them line by line was easier than following their spiral—and was now beginning the process of comparing them with the symbols in Hanks’ book.

He’d been surprised at how quickly Trinity had responded to his request for informational resources. Ernesto Hanks and his work weren’t exactly lauded in the academic community, and yet the archaeology department had gotten a copy to Robin in just a couple of days. They must be getting antsy for a big find—it had been a while since their last one—and Robin’s descriptions of the disk must have seemed irresistible.

They wouldn’t be disappointed. Robin was only a few lines in, and already his heart was pounding, his hands shaking. His excitement grew with every symbol he translated and transcribed into his notebook. This was incredible: the artifact was angel-made.

Hanks was right about everything—angel writing, angel intelligence and civilization, all of it. If he was right about that, Robin could see no reason Hanks couldn’t have been right in his theories of angel-human interaction, too.

It was amazing. The very beginning of the inscription was a short list of meaningless words that Robin guessed were names, followed by an account of the angels’ decision to colonize some kind of headland somewhere, above water. Incredible! There were legends about this, theories thrown around by the most radical dreamers and speculators, but who would have guessed those dreamers were right all along?

This very premise of this find went against everything Robin had learned about angels. It was almost more than he could process and accept at one time.

It would take time to translate the disk, at least another day, but God only knew what he could have learned by then. This was going to revolutionize the academic world—maybe the world in general. Whether he ever succeeded in finding Empathia or not, the find in front of him not only had the potential to secure his future, but to open the door to a whole new world of knowledge.

Sister Talk

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

The light was off, and Celeste’s room was black. Without a window, there wasn’t even enough light to see Celia crowded into the narrow bed next to her.

She could feel her, though. Celeste could hear the soft whisper of air and feel the blanket rising and falling as Celia breathed. She could smell her sister’s light fragrance—the ash-free cleanliness of Zirconia that still clung to her hair and skin. That was enough.

Celeste and Celia had shared a bed like this before Mom and Dad died. They’d both complained about the crowdedness then, but now Celeste cherished it. The miserable loneliness was gone, chased away by her sister’s presence. She could almost believe they were back in their old house, Mom and Dad asleep in the next room.

Celeste snuggled deeper into her pillow. She still wasn’t happy about Celia leaving school and deceiving some unsuspecting archaeologist into coming here. But, she decided with a long sigh, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it now, not until the poor fellow arrived, anyway. Then she’d have to try to explain and apologize and hope he wasn’t too outraged. What had Celia been thinking?

The bed squeaked as Celia rolled over. “You awake?” she whispered.

Celeste grinned into the dark, her annoyance forgotten. “Nope. I’m sound asleep dreaming of pot roast,” she replied, quoting Dad. He’d always said that whenever they’d gotten scared and crept into their parents’ room to ask if they could sleep with them.

Celia giggled. “Oh wow, I hadn’t thought about that in ages!”

“Remember the time that beetle screeched right outside our window and scared us half to death?”

“Or the time our bed frame collapsed in that tremor?”

Celeste laughed. “I remember.”

Celia scooted closer and put her arm over Celeste. “I’ve missed you so much, Lessie,” she whispered. “I can’t wait ’til we can be together again… all the time.”

Celeste said nothing as Celia sighed and went still. What could she say? Celia was completely convinced that at some point things were just going to magically fall into place for them. It was like she couldn’t see the obvious truth: that the real world simply didn’t work that way.

And yet Celeste couldn’t bring herself to say that. The fact that Celia could still hold on to hope after all this time was a miracle—at least, according to Celeste’s definition of miracles: something good that happened even though it had no realistic right to.

Celeste had occasional doubts as to whether letting Celia hang onto useless hopes and dreams was actually good…but she didn’t have the heart to extinguish this last little ray of sunlight. Not yet.

Wild Card

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Robin Corpsman had been told that the Steakhouse Arjentina was the best place to have dinner in Zirconia, so he headed there. This was his last night in town, and he planned to enjoy it.

The restaurant doors swung inwards, injecting him into a U-shaped room glowing with neon blues and greens. Wait staff dressed in black moved among the tables, their steps matching the beat of rhythmic music flowing from hidden speakers.

Robin made his way to the obsidian-top bar and pulled a stool out for himself. The waiter behind the counter offered him a good evening.

“What can I get you?”

“Dinner and a drink,” Robin said, “whatever’s best here.”

“Coming right up.” The waiter smiled, a look that promised an excellent meal, but with an exorbitant ticket attached.

Robin didn’t mind. Why not splurge on his last night in town and the school’s tab? Tomorrow morning he’d be heading landside, back to bland food, gritty water, ash, earthquakes, and lava. Back to his quest.

He’d have to spend enough time at one of the already-established digs to keep Trinity’s archaeology department directors happy, but as long as they had something new to brag about and display in the museum, they didn’t usually complain about the time Robin spent chasing legends. His quest, should he ever succeed, would benefit them too.

The waiter brought a glass flute of something that sparkled silvery-green. Robin lifted the flute and took a sip; the taste was exquisite, like nothing he’d had before.

Seeing the waiter watching him, he nodded his approval and raised the flute as if in a toast. The waiter smiled and nodded as he walked back into the kitchens.

Robin took another sip and swirled the drink slowly in the glass. If he ever succeeded in his quest, the whole of Trinity University, the entire Christchurch community, and even the high-ups on the Avenir would be toasting him. His discoveries would be the greatest in Eclectian history. He would be guaranteed a relatively easy life and substantial income for as long as he lived.

If he failed, he’d likely keep working as an archaeologist until age or ash lung disabled him. Then Trinity’s darling poster child would be left to fend for himself on a planet that was far from merciful to the weak.

The two potential futures were always standing over him, taunting him with suspense about which one would become reality. Reality hinged on the chances of him drawing the wildcard from a deck shuffled by fate and volcanoes.

The wildcard was Empathia.

A Good Reason

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celeste shrugged her backpack off and set it on her bed without moving her feet an inch.

“Celia, what are you doing here?” Mom had taken enormous pains training her girls not to swear, but right now Celeste had to fight to keep from it.

Celia shrugged again, still smiling. “We get four days vacation every Founding, but I haven’t used any of mine, so I decided to use them up and come visit you.”

“You came by yourself?” Celeste demanded, slamming the door shut. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s okay, I had a really good reason!” Celia folded her hands and bounced like she could barely contain herself. “See, I met this guy—”

“Celia Harper, don’t you dare tell me this is about a guy!” Was Celia seeing someone? Sleeping with someone? Celeste thought she might scream, or be sick—or both.

“No, Celeste, listen to me! He’s an archaeologist who talked to our school about his work; he does the same thing you do only he makes way more money at it, so I told him about you. He’s coming to Adagio and said he’d stop by to talk to you. You can start making money and be famous like him!”

Celeste slumped back against the door, partly out of relief, partly out of shock. “You ran away from school—”

“No, I took a vacation.”

“—so I could be rich and famous like some archaeologist you met.”

Celia nodded, smiling. “Yeah! If you were making money like him you wouldn’t have to stay in this awful place anymore, and I wouldn’t have to be in boarding school. We could be together.”

“How did you even get into port? The watergates have been locked up with engine problems since the last tsunami.”

Celia shrugged. “They were open when the seabus came through.”

“Well regardless, do you have any idea how dangerous it is to travel alone?”

“No more dangerous than you working alone in those caves all the time.”

“That’s different.”

“How?” Celia threw her hands up. “Why are you allowed to take risks but I’m not?”

“I have to make a living to support us.”

“And I’m trying to help you! With Robin’s help you could support us without risking your life!”

“It won’t work,” Celeste said. “I’m not even a real archaeologist. I dig up junk and sell it, that’s all.”

Celia looked away, chewing her lip. “I know,” she said, “but…”

“But what?” Celeste said when she didn’t finish.

Celia looked back at her. “Does Robin have to know that?”

Surprise

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celeste dragged herself up the stairs to her room, her pack still on her back. A hard bulge just right of center made her muscles and kidney ache. It was the vase she’d unearthed this morning—the find that kept a smile on her face in spite of how tired she was. It was unusual to find something this size completely undamaged, aside from dirt stains and some chips in the rim. Beneath the staining, it looked like the original paint was still intact, which made it worth even more.

Celeste dug in a pocket for her key, unlocked her door, and swung it open.

Someone was already standing in her room.

Celeste felt herself going numb as she took in the shapely trousers, the aqua-colored blouse, the beaded shoulder bag. The kinky blonde hair just like her own, only cleaner and better cared-for, the big green eyes set in what Mom had called an angel face.

“Celia?”

Celia’s grin was dazzling. She covered the room in two strides and flung herself into Celeste’s arms.

Celeste hugged her little sister tight, tears running down her ash-covered cheeks. It had been so long—too long—since they’d been together. Celia was so much taller now, so grown up! She was a young lady instead of the little girl she’d been the last time they saw each other.

Celeste silently cursed herself for not visiting Celia in Zirconia. She’d been so occupied with trying to earn enough money to keep them both alive… but that was no excuse. She should have visited. She should have kept in better contact.

“I’m so happy to see you,” Celia said.

Celeste squeezed Celia tighter and smiled, until it suddenly dawned on her: Celia was in Adagio.

Celia. Was in Adagio. Not Zirconia.

“Celia!” Celeste found Celia’s shoulders and pushed her far enough back to look at her. “What the heck are you doing here?”

Celia smiled sheepishly and shrugged. “Uh… Surprise!”

Stroke of Luck

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celia was out the classroom door before the last bell had even finished ringing. She pulled her book bag over her shoulder and headed for the superintendant’s office. She knew he could help her, the problem would be convincing him he should. Somehow, she had to talk to Robin Corpsman.

She slowed down as she neared the office, trying to buy more time to plan, but no ideas were forthcoming. She might just have to wing it.

She was five steps away when the door opened and Robin Corpsman stepped into the hall.

Celia caught herself mid-gasp; her heart felt like it had stopped completely this time. He was right there. This was her chance!

Robin passed her without speaking and started down the hall towards the exit.

“Hey.” It was the only thing Celia could get out of her mouth in time to stop him.

He paused and looked back, eyebrows raised.

“Uh…” Celia blinked, trying to collect herself. “I was in your lecture today.”

He smiled. “Oh? I hope you enjoyed it.”

His tone said he’d already fended off all the girls he cared to today. Celia knew she’d have to make her case fast.

“I wanted to talk to you about my sister,” she said. “She’s—an archaeologist.” Basically.

Robin turned around and cocked his head. “What’s her name?”

“Celeste Harper.”

Robin frowned. “I don’t recognize it. Who’s her sponsor?”

Uh-oh. No, wait—maybe that was it! “Um… I think she’s been having trouble with that. Something about lack of interest.”

“Lack of interest?” Robin’s tone was disbelieving. “Maybe landside, but aristocrats on the Avenir pay big for Eclectian artifacts. She’s just not applying in the right places.”

There was an opening, and Celia went for it. “So… could you recommend someplace she might apply?”

“Where’s she working?”

“Adagio.”

Robin dug in his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I’ll do better than that, then. Give me her address and I’ll contact her. Maybe I can help her out.”

Celia’s hands trembled as she wrote Celeste’s address and gave the paper back to Robin.

He glanced at the address and returned the paper to his pocket. “I’ll be passing through Adagio in the next week or ten days. I’ll look her up. Take care.”

And with that, he was off.

Celia watched him go, her heart pounding, unable to believe the luck that had just struck like a bolt of lightning. She hadn’t dared to even dream things might work out like this!

Now, she just had to figure out how to tell Celeste what she’d done.

Spark of Hope

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celia tucked her left foot under her other leg, trying to get comfortable on the rigid bench in the lecture hall. The professor marched onto the platform in front, and the class grudgingly opened their books.

Celia smirked and reached discreetly into her book bag. Eclectian History was always torturously dull; that was why she came prepared. She slid an art book from the library out of her bag and opened it over top of her history book.

“You’re not worried about exams?” someone nearby whispered.

“Yeah, right.” Celia replied as the professor welcomed everyone to ‘today’s exciting lecture’. He sounded excited alright, droning on in a nasal, monotone voice about the guest he was pleased to welcome…

Wait a second—guest speaker? That was a change of pace, at least.

“He has dedicated his life to the study of Eclectia’s history, excavating remains of our early civilizations.”

Celia perked up.

“His findings are among the most significant contributions to history museums on Avenir, as well as the Christchurch museum and our own Zirconia Museum.”

Celia sat forward and scanned the lecture hall, looking for the guest. A cluster of students blocked her view to the right, and since she couldn’t see anyone unfamiliar elsewhere she assumed the guest was sitting past them. She wished the professor would hurry with his introduction.

Finally, he held out a hand and smiled—well, Celia could imagine it as a smile if she tried. “Class, please welcome Mr. Robin Corpsman,” the professor said, backing away from the podium.

Celia’s heart stuttered as the guest speaker took the platform. He was much younger than she had expected—probably only fourteen or fifteen Foundings old—and he was tanned, rugged, and rakish. Celia wasn’t the only one who noticed, either, judging by scattered whispers from her female classmates.

“Well, your professor said it: I’m Robin Corpsman—you all can call me Robin—and I’m an archeologist.” His voice was a pleasant baritone.

Celia propped her chin in her hand and listened intently for the entire hour as Robin talked about his work collecting artifacts across Eclectia’s surface. He and Celeste were in the same line of work, but he was obviously making way more money than she was, and living a far better life. He was practically a celebrity, travelling and giving presentations at different museums. He had even been invited to the Avenir to speak, while Celeste lived planetside in misery, fighting just to make ends meet.

Celia wondered... what would it take for Celeste to get into Robin’s position?

The end-of-class bell interrupted the question-and-answer session at the end of Robin’s talk. Celia knew she’d never fight her way through the bevy of girl classmates in time to talk to Robin before she had to be in art class, but she had to find a way to talk to him before he left Zirconia.

He’d brought her a spark of hope that maybe she and Celeste could be together again. No way was she going to let him leave and take that spark with him.

Communiqué

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celia heard the light thud of something small dropping into the delivery box on her dorm room door. Dropping her art book on the bed, she walked to the door and pulled out the palm-sized package. It was coated in a film of dust that came off gray on her hand. The sending address was landside, Adagio.

Celeste!

Celia tore the end off of the package and tilted it up. A square audio chip dropped into her hand. Celia crossed the room to the wall player and stuck the chip in the slot. Her roommate Valla wasn’t around, so she could listen in private.

The low-grade chip made the recording sound metallic and slightly twangy, but Celia still almost cried when she heard her sister’s voice.

“Hey, Baby Sis, it’s me. I thought you might have heard about the earthquake we had here this morning, so I wanted to let you know I’m alright. I think a couple buildings collapsed on the other side of Adagio, but the one I live in is real strong so don’t worry, okay?

“I hope school’s still going good. You keep studying hard, girl. The superintendents send me your reports every semester, so I know you’re doing great. Just keep it up.

“And since I know you’d ask if you could, things here are fine. Business is good, and I’m doing real well. Listen, I’m about out of time on the recording chip, but I miss you and I love you, Baby Girl. I love you tons. Talk to you soo—”

The time on the chip ran out, cutting the last word short.

Tears streaking her face, Celia slammed her hand against the wall next to the audio player.

“How dumb do you think I am, Celeste?” she snapped at the speaker, as if Celeste could hear her. “You think I’m not going to worry about you living on a volcano, breathing the ash that killed Mom?” She held up the envelope in her hand. “You think I can’t recognize a north-side address and know you’re probably living in some shack not fit for a centipede?”

She jerked the chip out of the player and threw it viciously onto her bed. If Celeste were here, Celia decided she’d slap her until her head spun.

She’d hug her next, though. She missed her too much not to.

Rude Awakening

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

An earthquake rattled Celeste awake. She sat up and slapped the switch on the wall, filling the room with dingy light. A ceramic figurine skittered in a frantic dance across the top of the dresser before toppling over the edge. She leaned out and caught it, barely.

The walls still shook; this was stronger than the usual tremor. Celeste looked up at the familiar crack in the plaster ceiling of her room. It was expanding, shrinking, shifting, expanding again.

Flailing out of bed, Celeste grabbed her boots and hurried into the hall in socked feet. Evidently her fellow tenants had the same thought. The bedraggled crowd jostled to the end of the hall, down the stairs, and through the front-room towards the outside door. The front-room windows revealed gritty morning light but faced away from the mountain, which was what everyone wanted to see.

Outside, Celeste squinted through agitated clouds of ash as she hurried around the side of the tenement house to get a look at the volcano. It felt like the quake might be calming down, but there could still be an eruption coming.

A column of smoke towered above the mountain’s cone, fanning out against the atmosphere in an ever-widening blanket. Sheba’s halves were black shadows near the edge of the smoke-cloud.

The quake stopped. Sirens signaled the closing of Adagio’s watergates, but the mountain seemed to be quieting down—or gathering itself for a blast. Either way, it didn’t matter much.

People around her began groggily making their way back inside, and Celeste decided she might as well get some more sleep. No way was she going up that mountain today. She looked down and realized that in addition to her boots, she was still holding the figurine that had fallen off of the dresser—a white-robed girl with a benevolent smile, and a pair of silver wings growing from her back.

Mom had called it an angel; smiled at it, even talked to it. She’d said it represented real angels watching out for them. Celeste looked around her. The idea of angels didn’t seem very likely. But…

She looked back down at the figurine. “Don’t go trying that nose-dive thing again—just in case.”

Joy

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

There is no peace under the great domes the strangers come from. Their very walls emanate anguish, animosity, and despair. One can sense it, even from a distance, hanging in the water like blood lingering after a shark’s kill. It is my curiosity—the force behind many things I do—that lures me there in spite of all. Curiosity… and pity. I don’t understand the unhappiness of the strangers. What has caused it? Can nothing be done to change it?

Or is this bitter aura their nature?

I am inclined to believe not. Today, as I hovered close over the domes, one mind stood apart from the others. It was not angry or tainted like the others. Its touch in my consciousness wasn’t septic like the others. Reaching out to listen more closely, I realized why this mind was different.

This stranger was happy. I listened as emotions rippled through her consciousness like bubbles in the deep ocean, and her mind formed peculiarly-shaped thoughts—the words of her language. The shapes, patterns, and rhythms of the thoughts were new and different, and made me laugh at their oddity.

Until one thought formed a shape I recognized.

The word itself, in the stranger’s tongue, meant nothing to me. It was the shape of the thought behind the word, the emotion on which the word stood, the precise harmony with which the thought and emotion were fused, that gave me pause.

The stranger thought my name. Her consciousness formed the exact shape and feeling of my identifying thought. But she did more than that. She gave my name a word in her language.

Joy.

Debt of Gratitude

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

There hadn’t been any choice but to send Celia to Zirconia. Well…there had been. Celeste slapped a cloud of ash loose from her canvas pack and shrugged it onto her back to begin the trek down the mountain to Adagio. She supposed she could have let her little sister stay land-side with her to grow up like the other orphaned kids in the settlement: dirty, hungry, a master thief by age twelve.

Their parents had killed themselves—literally—working to make sure Celeste and Celia never had to face that kind of life. Their mom had succumbed to ash lung only a few months before a mining accident killed their dad. Celeste had been thirteen Foundings old, and Celia just eight.

A harsh wind kicked up, and Celeste shut her eyes as it blasted her with dust. Once it subsided, she wiped the grit from her eyes, then reached back and pulled a pair of goggles from the side pocket of her pack. She fitted them snugly over her eyes, blinked a few times, and kept moving. It was getting cold. By morning it would be full winter—every bit as miserable as summer, just in a different way. At least she had a place to stay, relatively safe from heat and cold alike.

She and Celia had been evicted a week after their dad died. One of their mom’s friends, Maddie, had let them live in the back room of the tavern she owned for a few weeks, while Celeste tried to figure out what to do. It was Maddie who had suggested sending Celia to Zirconia.

It was one of the tavern’s patrons, a bug hunter named Trebs, who’d told Celeste about the buried city and the market for artifacts. It hadn’t seemed like a good idea to her, and she had said so. But Trebs fired back with a good question: what else could she do? Aside from thievery or some even worse profession, the only options were mining and hunting. He told her to her face that she wouldn’t be able to “hack it” in either one.

He’d also given her the name of a dealer who, he’d heard, was in the market for relics and artifacts. She’d decided to give it a try, and within six months she had enough money to pay for Celia’s transportation to Zirconia and the first semester’s tuition at the boarding school there. Trebs had been right.

Sure, there were times like this when Celeste crawled out of a tunnel at the end of the day, caked with crusty ash, exhausted, miserable, and wishing she’d never met Trebs, much less been dumb enough to take his advice. But the fact was, without him, Celia would be just another hungry street urchin.

She owed him one.

Wishes

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celia banged the door shut and threw her shoulder bag onto the bottom bunk. The bag bounced and two of her books slid out.

“Don’t slam the door; you’ll get us both in trouble,” said her roommate, Valla, sitting cross-legged on the top bunk and scribbling in a notebook.

“Sorry.” Celia ducked and flopped onto her bed, her legs draped over her book bag. Today was Railway third, and there had been no meeting with the school’s superintendent, no official notice saying she’d been expelled for lack of funding.

That meant Celeste had paid for her to stay here another semester.

But she didn’t want to stay here another semester. She liked art class—she thought she might like to be an artist eventually—but the rest of the classes were dreck and the teachers didn’t know anything. Sea Life and Ancient Earth were the worst classes of the lot. Every sentence was prefaced with “it is thought” or “it is possible” or “many believe” or “some have speculated” and nothing was ever nailed down to solid facts.

Celia wished Celeste hadn’t made her come here. She wished she would let her go back to Adagio. She wanted to be with her sister, even though she was mad at her. She’d been mad ever since Celeste left her here three Foundings ago...

Tomb Raider

by Mary Ruth Pursselley -

Celeste dropped to her seat on the loose rock and pulled the sweaty bandanna from her head. It was hot out today, but nothing compared to the sweltering suffocation inside the tunnel. Spreading her feet, she unscrewed the lid of her steel water bottle, leaned forward, and drizzled lukewarm water across the back of her neck. It trickled down her shirt and onto the ground in front of her, creating black ash mud in both places.

She swished a mouthful of water through her teeth to rinse out the acrid dust. Then she spat it out and watched it trail down the hill towards Adagio. From here the settlement looked peaceful; beyond it, the sea looked even more so. She thought of her little sister Celia, down deep beneath those waves, in Zirconia. Don’t wish she was here, she reminded herself before she could start on the familiar thought path. She’s safe there—safer than with you.

Celeste glanced at the sky. She had time for another trip down the tunnel before starset. She retied the bandanna around her frizzed, tangled hair, and clipped her water bottle to her belt. A few feet to her left gaped the tunnel’s opening. From Adagio it would look like a crater or black rock, if it was visible at all.

The tunnel’s floor angled downward through meters of volcanic ash and gravel. Decades of being compressed by gravity had made it relatively solid, but there was always the risk of a cave-in. Celeste took short steps, careful not to slip, as she made her way back to her work site. The farther she walked, the hotter it became. She was moving closer to the volcano’s heart—a thought that always made her edgy—but she was moving towards the treasure, too.

Nearly twenty meters down, Celeste’s lithium lamp revealed the first wall. Beyond that stretched a labyrinth of buildings, rooms, stairs, and passages. No one knew what the city had been called before the pyroclastic flow buried it; all anyone knew was that it dated back to the earliest Eclectian colonies.

It was a dangerous place to work, and Celeste didn’t pretend to enjoy it—though it beat a lot of alternatives. But smugglers paid well for the artifacts she brought up, and their money kept Celia safe. The boarding school in Zirconia would give her a shot at a decent, respectable life Celeste had no chance of achieving.

That was what mattered.