Spinning Starlight

Also by R.C. Lewis

Stitching Snow

Copyright © 2015 by R.C. Lewis

Cover design by Marci Senders

Cover illustration © 2015 by I Love Dust

All rights reserved. Published by Hyperion, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Hyperion, 125 West End
Avenue, New York, New York 10023.

ISBN 978-1-4847-1957-2

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www.hyperionteens.com

Contents

1. Title Page
   
2. Also by R.C. Lewis
   
3. Copyright
   
4. Dedication
   
5. 1
   
6. 2
   
7. 3
   
8. 4
   
9. 5
   
10. 6
    
11. 7
    
12. 8
    
13. 9
    
14. 10
    
15. 11
    
16. 12
    
17. 13
    
18. 14
    
19. 15
    
20. 16
    
21. 17
    
22. 18
    
23. 19
    
24. 20
    
25. 21
    
26. 22
    
27. 23
    
28. 24
    
29. 25
    
30. Acknowledgments
    
31. About the Author
    

TO MY MOM FOR STARGAZING,
AND MY DAD FOR MAKING ME
LOOK UP MY OWN ANSWERS

AFTER SIXTEEN YEARS,
you’d think I’d be used to the incessant buzz of vid-cams swarming to chronicle every breath I take. I’m
not. Good thing, too, or I might not have noticed when one of the tiny airborne devices slips into the hovercar with me like an errant bumblebee. I shoo it like the pest it is. The lights and
hustle of Pinnacle blur by until the city thins, then disappears as I enter the country—or the closest thing to “country” you can find on Sampati. A small river winds through
fields and woods extending for several miles, with no sign of any neighbors. The house greets me with a few warm lights along the front path.

As nice as it is to be away from the noise of the city, the two seconds of silence as I open the door press in on me, twist in my ears. I hate the sound of an empty house. It isn’t
natural.

“Welcome home, Liddi.” The disembodied voice breaks silence’s hold, the same voice that’s greeted me most of my life. Sometimes I wish it weren’t the
only
voice greeting me now. “You’ve returned earlier than scheduled.”

“It was like every other party, Dom. Loud music, too much lip gloss, and Reb Vester’s existence. I got bored.” Bored, and tired of the weight of myriad eyes watching me,
manifesting as an ache in my lower back. Or maybe that’s just from these shoes. I kick them off and pull the pins from my hair before tapping a touchscreen to activate the wallscreen in the
main room. “Pull up those news-vids I was watching earlier. Resume playback.”

The first vid loads with a familiar face, sienna-skinned and dark-haired like all us Jantzen kids, and I settle on the couch to watch. I’m not sure why I bother. I could recite these start
to finish.

“Among technologists more than twice his age, eleven-year-old Durant Jantzen presented his biometric exercise unit at the Tech Reveal today. Athletes from Pramadam gave the system high
praise….”

“Jantzen twins Luko and Vic followed in their big brother’s footsteps at this year’s Tech Reveal, debuting a customizable pesticide. Ecologists on Erkir have already placed
orders for ten thousand units….”

“This year’s Tech Reveal brought young Fabin Jantzen and his Domestic Engineer and Itinerary Keeper….”
I wonder if Domenik ever feels all meta hearing about his
program’s debut.

On and on they go. The first year Anton presented at the Reveal, then the triplets. Marek, Ciro, and Emil were only ten, so tiny next to the other technologists and already dubbing themselves
the Jantzen Triad. That was the first year after Mom and Dad’s accident. The year everything changed.

I watch more years, more Tech Reveals with all my brothers presenting inventions and innovations and upgrades. The narrative changes, though, becoming less about the technology, more about my
brothers themselves.

More about me.

“Durant Jantzen attended the opening of a new art exhibit on Yishu before returning for the Tech Reveal….”

“Vic Jantzen presented two different technologies before rushing off to the laserball title match….”

“No sign of the Jantzen girl at this year’s Tech Reveal….”

“Luko, will your sister be presenting this year?”

“Emil, when will your sister stop partying and take her place in the family business?”

“Fabin, do you think your father made a mistake, leaving the majority of the company to the youngest of you?”

My brothers answer the same way every time, staunchly supporting me. I don’t go to that many parties—it just seems like I do because the media-grubs follow my every move. I’m
taking extra time
because
of the responsibility I bear. Our father knew exactly what he was doing, seeing how competitive my brothers were with each other, but how they all doted on me.
When I turn eighteen and take control of Jantzen Technology Innovations, the boys will support me. It won’t tear the family apart the way it would’ve if Dad had picked one of them to
take his place. They say I’m the best of the Jantzens, that everyone else will realize it soon.

That’s been the story since I was six years old. I only believe some of it. Only the parts about my brothers. Somehow I have to make the rest come true.

“Turn it off, Dom.”

I get up and go into the adjoining room, the workshop that takes nearly half of the house’s first floor. Plenty of space, but I stick to the bench in the corner that’s always been
mine. This room used to be so noisy and busy, with computers beeping and tools whirring, Dom interrupting to tell us we forgot lunch and that if we didn’t eat, he’d cut power to the
whole shop.

Used to be, right up until last year when “the Triad” turned eighteen and moved to the city, becoming full-time technologists for JTI like everyone else.

The silence makes me itch.

“Dom, music.”

“Genre?”

“Whatever they’re saying is the new thing on Yishu. Surprise me.”

A syncopated beat fills the room, followed by a point-counterpoint melody on electronic instruments engineered to sound like they’re not electronic.

Durant designed some of those. I wonder if this is one of the recordings he’s done under a false name. Maybe I’ll ask next time I talk to him.

I fiddle with a few of the half-finished projects on my workbench for more than an hour, but it’s no use. None of them are any good. Either they won’t work, or they’re inferior
knock-offs of things my brothers came up with when they were half my age.

I can’t do it. Not when everyone’s watching. Not when my picking the wrong skirt is cause for its own media-cast.

“No Tech Reveal for me this year,” I mutter.
“Again.”

The volume of the music cuts in half. “Please repeat, Liddi.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Dom. Check my message queue. What have I got?”

He rattles off media-casts of my appearance at tonight’s party, requests for interviews, invitations to parties and concerts and fashion shows. I cut him off in the middle of relaying that
some senator’s daughter from Neta wants me to go shopping with her.

“Nothing from the boys?”

“No.”

It’s been weeks since I’ve seen any of them, enough to deepen the ache when everything is quiet. As much as I tell them they don’t need to worry about me being on my own, they
don’t usually believe me for this long at a stretch. Not that it’s a big deal. They’re busy with the work I’ll be part of, if I can ever get my defective neurons to
cooperate. Still…

“Dom, send a message to Emil. I’d like to see him.” Emil’s the youngest other than me. Not only will he drop everything—all my brothers would—but he’ll
tease me less for asking.

“Message sent. It’s getting late. Time for bed?”

“Not yet. Discontinue music.”

The house goes silent again as I tidy up my workbench, but I’m not sticking around long enough for it to bother me. I walk out the back door, the grass of the yard cold on my bare feet.
Luna Minor is straight overhead, giving plenty of light, and there’ll be even more when Luna Major rises in the next half hour. The night phlox is blooming pink and maroon, and the scent of
the flowers brings back memories of playing hide-and-seek when we should’ve been in bed. A time when wondering what we’d have for breakfast tomorrow was my biggest worry about the
future. When the scarier future and potential failures were still far enough away to forget sometimes.

I cross the yard into the stand of trees, letting the sound of the river draw me; the grass gives way to smooth pebbles, warming my feet a little with the heat they’ve retained from the
day. It’s never silent out here, not even at night. The water rushes along, and nocturnal insects chirp and chitter, the noise wrapping around me. Calming me. A little, anyway.

The Tech Reveal is just fifty-one days away. Hardly enough time to create something groundbreaking when I don’t even have an idea yet. My brothers would never say so—they’d
never pressure me—but I know everyone worries that I haven’t come up with anything to present. Ever. At this rate, I’ll be as old as an average technologist at debut. The idea of
someone saying the word
average
in the same breath as
Jantzen
and it being my fault makes me shudder. I walk along the river’s edge, hoping something will click.

Maybe the ecologists on Erkir could use a less disruptive way to irrigate their agricultural zones.

Maybe there’s a way to help data flow more smoothly in the computer networks.

Maybe the tiny moths fluttering by could serve as a model for better vid-cams, with less buzzing.

Bad idea. The annoying buzz lets me know the cams are watching me, which they always are. Everywhere but here, because Luko set up an interference field like a bubble over the property so they
can’t get through.