Lotus and Thorn (22 page)

So I settled on another quick-twist maneuver—jerking my wrist in, flicking my elbow out. Instantly breaking her grip on my arm. Marisol was jostled by the movement and she stumbled back against her group of Kisaengs.

“I am
not
your sister.” I let my voice carry across the Sanctum. My words ringing out in the silence. “Do not make that mistake again.”

Marisol’s face was unreadable. She said nothing, simply stood there surrounded by her Kisaengs, but I doubted this was over. Marisol was a fighter. A schemer. Even as I turned my back on her—letting everyone see I didn’t view her as a threat—I worried what her next move would be.

But I made my face confident as I looked to Riya, Oksun, and their friends. “Now. Who thinks they can replicate the move I just demonstrated?”

WHEN RIYA FOUGHT,
she became a different person. She had an untethered quality about her that reminded me of Lotus. As she faced off with a much sturdier Oksun, Riya repeated my techniques—but in her hands, they became something new. She moved differently than anyone I’d ever known—like she was hearing a rhythm that no one else could. And it made her fun to watch, unskilled but innovative. You had no idea where she’d come from next.

She finally got the best of Oksun, with a surprise dodge followed by a mimed kick to the knees.

“Excellent!” I applauded and the girls around me joined in.

“Will you show us more?” Riya’s dark eyes gleamed as she landed a kick high in the air. As if she was trying out her body for the first time.

“Of course. This sort of thing is best when you practice consistently.” As I said the words I realized how much I’d missed my own daily ritual—that focused space during the day that returned you to yourself. “I’d get up before dawn in Tierra Muerta and watch the sun rise while I went through my practice. Sometimes it
was the only bit of peace I’d get . . .” But everyone was suddenly staring at me and I realized that I’d slipped up.

“You’re an exile?” Oksun leaned in and her severe, shoulder-length hair fell across her face.

I nodded, looking around at the group of uncertain faces. We weren’t Citizens anymore, but the lessons of the Rememberings seeped into your bones—it took more than a pretty dress to change what you believed. Maybe Marisol wasn’t the only Kisaeng I needed to worry about hating me.

“And you survived,” Riya said.

I nodded, even though it’d been a statement rather than a question. I wasn’t sure what else to do.

“Impressive. Knocking Salk on his ass your very first night makes a little more sense now.” Oksun barked out a laugh.

Relief washed over me. Marisol had
said
this wasn’t the same as Pleiades, but I wasn’t sure a criminal would be welcome.

And Riya had a different expression on her face. Not just respectful anymore, but almost protective. “That settles it, then. We’ll meet here tomorrow, at dawn.”

As the morning wore on, I watched the girls spar and laugh and show off. It was strange to see them fighting in dresses—it made it harder to move, but also harder to see what your opponent was about to do. A different kind of challenge. And as I watched, I noticed something else as well.

Every single one of them was young and strong and energetic. In fact, now that I thought about it, all the Kisaengs were. Though the Curadores were a mix of old and young—from Edison’s age to Jenner’s—there couldn’t have been a Kisaeng over thirty. Not a single grey hair or crow’s-feet among them.

I managed to get Oksun alone, sparring with her as an excuse to talk. “Where are the older Kisaengs? Do they live in a different part of the Dome?”

Oksun was only a few inches taller than me, but she was much bigger. Her shoulders were broad, her arms and legs thick with muscles. And she didn’t hold back as she threw a punch. “When they’re no longer desirable, Kisaengs just disappear.”

I blocked her blow, but the force of it still rang through my forearm. “Like Olivia has?”

Oksun nodded, throwing another. “One day they’re just gone. And no one knows what happens. Why do you think we spend so much time making ourselves beautiful? Why do you think we want to learn to defend ourselves?”

I dodged and threw a punch of my own, but it was clumsy. I was barely paying attention anymore. “What do the Curadores say when you ask what’s happened to the others?”

Oksun caught my arm, gripping hard as she jerked upward—her black eyes holding mine. “No one asks.”

“Why?”

“Because we don’t want to disappear too.”

• • •

I made sure no one was watching as I slipped into the forest that afternoon. I had an idea about the Kisaengs and the computer system and Grimm. As if my thought had summoned him, Grimm glided down from the trees. He let out a soft
awwrawk
, and we made our way to Nik’s house together.

It looked completely different under the bright sun. The walls were simply a web of tree roots, which meant light poured into the house. More that than, Nik had hung bits of tinted plastic and
glass from the living framework, scattering the floor with colored sunlight.

“Hello?” If it was possible, it seemed even more crowded in the daylight. Plants were everywhere. Blooming under glass jars. Hanging from pots on the walls. Vining across the ceilings. And everywhere there weren’t plants, there were gadgets that performed complicated, unimaginable tasks. Bits of motors. Bright green circuit boards. Tangles of wire.

“Back here,” Nik called.

Grimm flew around me in dizzying circles as we navigated our way through the house. Until I finally thought to offer him my arm. “Did you program Grimm to like me?”

I stroked Grimm as he settled on my wrist—brilliant blue wings, mottled with grey. But a closer look showed not grey feathers, but silver strands of wire—each one thinner than a single hair. They glistened as Grimm moved, making his plumage beautiful and intricate.

“It’s not like that.” Nik looked up from a jar he was packing with dirt. The curtain of thin dreadlocks that hid him from the world was tied back in a thick ponytail, leaving Nik’s face exposed and open as he talked about his friend. “Grimm was programmed with his own personality. He likes you because you’re you and he’s him.”

“How does it work? The other night, one second I was wishing we could fly higher and next we were skimming the Dome. Did
I
make him do that?”

“Sort of. If I have the combud in, I can think, ‘I want to find Leica,’ and if he wants to, Grimm will go find you. But I don’t tell him
where
to find you. Or how to act when he gets there.”

“So how does he do it, then?”

“He might use the filaments in his feathers to intercept signals from the flys’ visual feed and find you that way. Or, if their feed is on the fritz . . . as it is more often than not these days, he might go somewhere he’s found you before. He learns your behavior patterns as he gets to know you. And he’s known you for a long time.”

I thought again of the strange history I had with Grimm and these brothers. And it felt a little like the scar on my belly—a piece of me that wasn’t fully my own. “The reason I’m asking is . . . I had an idea about Grimm and the Kisaengs who are missing.”

Nik gave me a confused look and I wondered how isolated he really was. How much did he know about what was going in the rest of the Dome? To be safe, I started with the disappearing Kisaengs. Then I told him about the magfly accident and Olivia being taken away. But I stopped there. There was no reason for Nik to know that I was afraid that Jenner was harming the Citizens as well.

“I’m sorry about your friend, I’ll do whatever I can to help . . .” Nik’s face was rigid with anger. “But what’s any of this got to do with Grimm?” Nik’s voice was wary—rightfully protective of
his
friend.

“Well, when I was in the Genetics Lab, I saw that Jenner had files on all the Kisaengs, dating back to when we were brought in from Pleiades. And I thought maybe Olivia’s file might give us a clue about what’s happened to her. And the others.”
And me.
But I didn’t say that part out loud. “It occurred to me that maybe Grimm could talk with the main computer or the flys or whatever and get us a look at the files?”

But Nik was already shaking his head. “Grimm works on an entirely different system. It was much easier to invent a whole new communication protocol than to reverse engineer the Dome’s
technology. The flys, the magflys, the Lab, they’re all part of the Colony’s integrated computer system, which is hugely complex. Over the years, we figured out a way to let Grimm listen in or even jam some of the signals broadcast between the components, but he can’t control any of them.”

I thought I understood what Nik was saying. “So basically, Grimm can eavesdrop on the flys, but he can’t ‘talk’ to them.”

“Right, he speaks a totally different language. Actually
no one
can really talk to the computer or flys. Not only can we not speak their language, we don’t even know what language they speak. Everything’s locked up and coded. The Curadores can
use
the computer, ask it to do stuff for us, but we can’t
change
anything about the way the computer does those things.

“That’s what’s so insane about Jenner’s plan to fix the Dome. He just keeps trying to make smarter and smarter versions of Edison and me—hoping that eventually one of them will magically beat the system. It’s like Jenner keeps making copies of the wrong key, but still expects one of them to open the door.”

Locked doors seemed an apt metaphor for most of the Dome. Ancient inaccessible computer programs. Children behind tall walls. Women who simply vanished.

“But,” Nik added, seeing my frustration, “that just means Grimm isn’t the right man for the job.” And he stopped to think for a moment. “You said Jenner brought the files up on the central computer in the Genetics Lab?”

I nodded.

“Then I have a friend who might be able get us a copy.”

“Really?” I tried not to sound surprised. It was just that I’d gotten the feeling that life in the Dome hadn’t been kind to Nik—after
all, he’d chosen to hide away the middle of a forest. So, who in this place would Nik consider a friend?

But I didn’t pry. I simply said, “Thanks. That would mean a lot to me.”

Grimm started combing his beak through my spiky hair. Making his ridiculous
awwraaaaawk
noise. I reached up to pet him. “Maybe Grimm could still be a help. I’d like to get a better idea of Jenner’s movements. Or really, any sort of activity around the Lab.” Edison said he was keeping an eye on Jenner, but I wasn’t really sure anymore if he and I had the same motives.

Nik studied Grimm for a moment—that protective look on his face again—then finally nodded. “We’ll have to be careful, though. Jenner knows about Grimm and he’s easy to spot . . . that’s why I don’t let him leave the woods or the Dome till after dark.”

“Then I’ll come back again. Late tonight.” I thought about what Edison had said about Nik. Hiding away with his experiments. I tried to sound casual as I asked, “Why
does
Grimm leave the Dome?”

“I told you, to collect soil samples and vegetation.” Nik gently tucked a seedling into the jar. His fingers barely fit inside the narrow mouth and he struggled with it. “I only work with plants now.”

“Here, let me do that.” I took the jar from him. Despite my extra fingers, my small hands were a much better fit. I packed dirt down around the roots. “What I meant was,
why
do you collect plants?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m . . . I’m trying to create crops that can withstand the conditions of Gabriel’s desert.”

“Like sandstorms and drought?”

“That too. But there’s also five hundred years worth of humanity decaying under that sand . . . leaking oil and battery acid and
who knows what into that soil. It’s not really even soil. Half of it is shattered solar glass from the old city.”

Nik made a note on the side of the jar and went on to the next plant. He measured out a precise mix of dirt and sand into the jar and then handed it to me to add the plant.

I thought of the Indignos’ crops dying off. “So you’re trying to create plants strong enough to live in polluted soil?”

“Yeah. I tried that for a while, but they kept dying. The last few months I’ve been trying to create plants that will clean the soil itself. Actually, I’m not even trying to alter the plants anymore.”

“Then what are all these?” I spun around the room, gesturing to the plethora of green. Grimm squawked at my sudden movement and flapped off to a safer perch.

“They’re test subjects. I’m trying to create a system of nanites who’ll live inside the plants and help filter out anything harmful . . . poisons or mold or anything that attacks it.”

“Like the flys inside the Dome?”

“Kind of . . . but for defense. And microscopic.”

“Is it working?”

“I don’t know.” Nik’s face was bleak as he looked at the glass jars full of sprouts. “I test them in these mini biomes, and if they look promising, I take them outside.”

“Into the woods?”

“Not quite. Here . . . let me show you.” And he took my hand. His was enormous and rough, with calluses on every finger. I liked the feel of it. It was the kind of hand that made you feel confident.

We walked a few meters through the wall of trees, then the forest opened up into a spectacular garden. But
garden
wasn’t even the right word for it. It was a riot of plants. Thick vines dripping with
berries. Vast towers of tomatoes. Forests of orange trees and lemons and limes. Rows of pungent but unrecognizable herbs. And suspended above us, a constellation of mechanical arms reaching down to pick, prune, and weed the magnificent feast.

I was speechless.

“All of the Garden used to look like this. At least, that’s what I understand from the few historical records we have access to.”

“Then why haven’t I seen that thing anywhere else in the woods?” I pointed to the giant metal grid hanging about seven meters above us. Thousands of robotic arms slid and maneuvered along the rails in an intricate, mechanical dance.

“The computer’s only concerned about generating enough fresh food for the current population. As soon as it deemed the rest of the Gardens unnecessary, the grid and arms would’ve been dismantled and reprocessed by the flys. Then the trees must’ve taken over.”

It was the most beautiful place I’d ever seen. A waterfall roared nearby and the mist drifted across us making the air cool and wet. I filled my lungs with the scent of flowers and fruit and plenty. I could understand why Nik stayed here.

“Is this all part of your experiments?”

“Oh no, most of this is tended by the computer. I had to make some space for myself over here where I replicated the soil contamination levels found out Tierra Muerta.” And he showed me an irregularly shaped clearing where corn, adzuki beans, and kabocha pumpkins grew in rows. The Citizen’s main crops.