The Climb to the Sun

The outside world was unknown to her, but she could see a glimpse of it through the window in his room. Anthony’s room. His Garden. The pane was vast, with a landscape of glass squares woven throughout a sleek ebony frame. Each square was composed of several protective panels, and though they blurred the view slightly, no amount of separation could make it less captivating.

Finley paused in her work, thinking again of the sight she often beheld a few floors above. She was fortunate, much more than most, to have her post in Sector 19. It was the highest of its kind, and although each shift there was laborious and fueled her hate for the Administration, it allowed her access to the last barrier between humankind and the Surface. The Crystal Frontier, as it was called.

She sighed. Beside her, Mateo looked up quizzically from his packing, but she dismissed him with a shake of her head. Nothing. For it was, really, nothing. A lone figment of her imagination, always taunting her like an unseen shadow.

Finley resumed packaging the wheat. She fingered a clump of it in her glove, eyeing its dry, gray-tinged stalks, then threw it into the compost. “God, how many of these are bad?”

Mateo shrugged. “Dunno.” He tossed another handful into the waste bin. “An annoying amount, if you ask me.”

She nodded, then laughed weakly. “They’d better make the next batch real good, because I can’t keep going with the shares they give us. One more decrease-” she plopped a bag of wheat into its brown box, “-and I’m gonna have to cut out breakfast.”

Mateo clenched his jaw. Clearly, there was something he wanted to say, but the words never formed. He bagged a clump with vehemence. Finley observed the movement, and thought to herself, Maybe that’s easier for him, voicing his protests inside, where no android could ever venture.

Minutes trickled by, throughout which the piles for compost and export grew evenly. Then Mateo said, “You ever wonder about Level Two?”

Finley paused. “...Yeah.”

“I just… they’ve been cutting so many sectors, getting deeper, and-”

“I know.” She met his deep brown eyes, hoping her green ones didn’t reflect their buried fear. “We just have to-”

[Anthony: Finley!]

She dropped the wheat, removed her implant’s silence mode, then held up a finger to stop Mateo. His mouth remained open in confusion.

[Finley: What? What is it?] She sent the message with ease, a result of eighteen years’ experience. She and Anthony were both lucky to have gotten an implant before Admin stole their parents’ fortunes, and communicated often across the mental strings. But if they ever spoke about owning such devices, their treasures would soon be taken, too.

Frantic text piled in front of her eyes. [Anthony: You’ve gotta come to the Garden. You and Mateo - you’ve gotta see this.]

[Finley: But we’re almost done sorting-]

[Anthony: No. No, leave it. It doesn’t matter anymore. You need to come here, now.]

Finley’s heart picked up. [Finley: Is everything okay? Are you alright?]

[Anthony: Just come here. Please.]

Concerned, she left the line and explained the situation to Mateo. It didn’t take much to convince him to leave; he always managed to find trust in others. Especially friends of life’s labor like herself.

Together, they sped past sweating workers’ cubes, out of Exports, and up the metal staircase. The pair were well adjusted to physical strain, and so ascended with relative ease. Their breathable gray tank tops and cargo pants helped as well. Finally, after three levels, they burst through the worn greenhouse doors and into the Garden.

The stench was immediate.

“Ugh,” Mateo muttered. He placed a tan hand over his nose, and Finley mimicked the movement. The garden smelled of rotting corpses and rancid provisions. She had to resist the urge to gag.

In the middle of the wide room, underneath the famous window, stood the manager Anthony and the lead planter Yanine. The two had stricken expressions, and when Finley gazed down at the growing fields, she instantly understood why.

No….

Anthony noticed them. He strode over quietly, and as Yanine followed, her pale face and faraway aura gave her the impression of a trailing spirit. Anthony placed both hands on his black baseball cap and absently brushed the brown hair beneath. “So….” He stopped and laughed humorlessly. “Voilà.”

Finley stared at the ocean of shriveled, infected crops. Not one was alive, or edible. Mateo appeared equally horrified. “How did this… how…?”

“I don’t know,” whispered Yanine. She readjusted her oval glasses. “The crops, I - I’ve tried to keep them for so long, guys. I used up all the Admin fertilizer, I readjusted the window’s lighting, the temperature, I pruned, changed the watering… I’ve tried and done everything for weeks. But they still just… died.” She put her head in her hands, appearing on the verge of tears, and a pang shot through Finley. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Cold quiet enveloped the Garden. Finley couldn’t stop thinking of what would happen now, because of their failure. They’re going to cut us. They’re going to cut the sector. Mateo was right; it was only a matter of time before Level Two would take over-

“We wanted you guys to see it in person, instead of hearing about it later,” said Anthony. “You know how fast things travel around here.”

Finley nodded.

“We only found it just now, when we came in for morning shift,” explained Yanine. “They started struggling a little more this week, but I don’t know, it was like something just hit last night. I don’t know what happened….”

Anthony put a gloved hand on her shoulder, and she leaned into him.

Finley began to tremble slightly. The Administration could call them a juvenile sector, or Level One in the Agriculture District, or whatever statistical name they wanted - but always would 19 be a group of friends. Because really, that was what they all were, twenty-four people forced together from childhood, now about to be forced apart by the cruelest means….

Finley blinked to clear her eyes. Morning had been the easiest part of her shift, but now she would gladly take a lifetime of afternoons if it meant one more chance. Any chance but this.

Yanine inhaled and tightened her frizzy black bun. “I’m… I’m going to message the District. We’ll get it worse if they find out late.” She started to move away, but Finley grabbed her arm gently.

“Wait…. Listen, whatever happens, this wasn’t your fault. I would never blame you for something so out of your control.”

Mateo swallowed. “Me neither.”

“Same,” added Anthony.

Yanine smiled and relaxed, if barely, but Finley could still see the shimmer in her umber eyes. “Thank you.” Then she walked toward the office, hands in her faded overall pockets and back to the ruined field of crops.

~~~

A painful week passed. Two. Three. And sometime later, a month. Finley was beginning to throb with fear, the doom placed on their sector growing closer every day. She had almost nothing to do with herself except sit with Mateo, count the days until cryo, and starve.

Of course the Administration hadn’t cared. Of course they’d chosen to save their fuel instead of braving the Surface for a lone little sector. It was obvious: they only cared about the rich, the healthy, the valuable. People destined for the Island. They thought the cure for less resources was less people. Letting people die, slowly, for their mistakes. Saving humanity as a whole wasn’t their goal. It was building up a colony, an island, from which to restart. For decades, they’d been extracting resources from districts and their sectors, Finley’s being only one in a thousand. But at the same time, they were composing sectors of their own; replacements for the thousand they knew would eventually fail. Quite simply, it was a game of substitution. Keeping the fragile world alive by exchanging the weaker for the stronger. A game where, in the end, finishing meant a new world, one without the original sectors. Without all those whose energy had been squeezed into a pulp since the moment they were old enough to serve.

Finley had always heard stories of cut sectors. Often, she’d daydreamed about what they must look like: abandoned, overgrown, and littered with the frozen coffins of what used to be real people. Laborers of the Administration who, against propagated thought, could never be replaceable. Sure, in energy and physical force, yes, but not possibly in character, background, and hopes.

This intermediary time - between divergence and cryo - gave Finley a torturously large number of empty shifts, during which she repeatedly rethought her prison of a world. And most frequently, she struggled to process how the fate she’d only imagined was now, inevitably, hers.

Finley snorted to herself against the cool wall, thinking of the cryo machines and their frost-generated slumber. Admin gave some sectors cryo because of their necessity to the resources’ creation. For 19, it was the fertilizer granules, which had to be kept at a certain temperature to maintain long-term use. But once the unthinkable happened, the cryo tubes switched to a false joy. As if Admin was teasing, Yes, you’ve failed. But not all of you will die; look, you have cryo tubes with a year’s power. During that time, we might just stop by and save you!

But in Finley’s opinion, by far the worst facet of this plan was how few would actually get the opportunity: the most valuable. In other words, Yanine, Anthony, and four others, none of which were Finley and Mateo. Even if these six wanted to give their chance to someone else, the androids assigned to the sector would most firmly prevent them. So really, it was all a big trap.

Finley cursed.

“You okay?” asked Mateo.

She glanced at him, and Anthony to his right. They had just finished their mediocre dinner and were sitting in the bunkroom as usual. “...Yeah. It’s just - It’s twisted. This whole shit is.”

Anthony grunted. “I know.”

“But don’t you ever think about-” She put a hand on her face, then brushed back her copper hair, which was oily due to the showers’ electricity being removed. When her finger touched the teal pin Mateo had given her last spring, her heart sank further. “I don’t know.”

All three were silent for a while, but comfortable nonetheless. In the distance, the chatter of other 19’s could be heard, a soft ring of life which Finley wished she could cling to for longer.

At last, Anthony muttered, “I don’t want the stupid cryo.”

“Man, no,” said Mateo. He sat up straighter, so as to look Anthony in the eye. “You don’t want what we got. I’m not gonna mourn myself, but I’ll mourn you if you think cryo’s worse than dying in an underground hole.”

“But-”

“Shh. No. You’re smart, man. You deserve that spot.”

Anthony laid down on the floor, hands underneath his head. “If that’s the case, then you guys deserve it, too.”

Mateo spread his hands out and smiled crookedly. “Hey, if I were the planner, I would most certainly put us in there, too. But Admin’s the one making the call.”

“Admin doesn’t know shit about us,” snapped Anthony. “Nothing but our labor levels. You know what we are to them? An empty face with working hands, that’s what.”

Finley tucked her legs to her chest. He was echoing her own thoughts exactly. “What do you think is outside?”

“Like, generally?”

“Yeah. If they’re so scared to show us what we’re working against, what we’re helping them to work against, then what do you think it is?”

Mateo shook his head. “God, you’ve already asked this and I really don’t know. There’s not much that window gives you.”

Finley allowed the conversation to drift to the brink of abandon, then said quietly, “If I’m gonna die, then I’m gonna die outside.”

Anthony shot up. “The fuck, Finley-”

Simultaneously, Mateo bursted, “What?”

She squared her shoulders. “I’ll go outside. I’ll go outside and see for myself. You can argue, but you know they don’t care enough to stop me.” She let out a rough laugh. “I’m just a speck. So what if one person sees? Even if I learned something up there, I wouldn’t live long enough to spread it.”

“But how?” said Mateo. “How would you get there?”

Finley pointed up. “The window.”

“So you’re gonna break it-”

“Yeah.”

“But what about me! What about everyone else left behind-”

“I’ll seal all the doors around it. You’ve seen the locks; we have ‘em everywhere. They’ll keep everything out. But that isn’t the point-”

“Finley,” interrupted Anthony. “Do you even understand what you’re saying?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

He crossed his arms. “We’ll, if we’re even considering the idea, there’s no guarantee you’d even make it up there anyway. The air would enter instantly from the window, and you’d probably die before even getting out. Personally, I’d rather starve.”

“I know. That’s why I’m wearing a mask.”

“And then what?”

“And then I’ll see it.”

Both boys remained still, neither willing to speak. In the background, the same continuous chatter drifted throughout the bunks. Mateo appeared the most pensive, and for the longest while Finley feared he’d object and insist on stopping her. To her surprise, though, he lifted his chin and said, “I’ll go with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I think I’d like to die spitting in Admin’s face.”

Anthony appeared upset. “Wait… I want to go with you also.”

“But the cryo-”

“I know. But look, even if Finley’s idea sounds crazy, I just know I’d die waiting in the damn tube if I stayed. It’s not that hard to figure out.”

“How would you come, though? There’s no way we can take on the androids ourselves, and you know it.”

Finley softened. Unwilling to give up on him, she started wildly flipping through a stream of possibilities, each more insane than the rest. Gradually, an idea came to her. When she was certain of its success, she explained it to them, and by Zephyr, she could’ve sworn their giddy laughs shook the air itself.

~~~

Finley’s stomach was ravenous, her thirst just as extensive. The second-to-last meal 19 ate was barely enough to consider sufficient, yet none complained, either because of acceptance or plain weakness. They were all sluggish phantoms now. Each rationed meal was like a jewel which lured them lazily through the day. Finley coaxed herself into ignoring the pain, for at this point, it held too small a significance to be worth considering.

Dinner had been a difficult moment for her, Mateo, and Anthony. They all knew they couldn’t say a word of their plan to everyone else in order to prevent android intervention. Thus, they were trapped in a scene of pent-up grief, savoring every conversation and pretending that by doing so, they were fulfilling their farewells.

Then, in the thickest, darkest part of the night, once all the other 19’s had fallen asleep, the three left for the Garden. They crept slowly, inching their way through each door to make sure no sound leaked out. On their way, they grabbed emergency masks from the small warehouse, and Finley clutched hers so tightly, the muscles in her hands began to throb.

Up the winding stairs they went. Through the long, dull halls which soon would be nothing more than a memory of what was. By tomorrow afternoon, all they would be to the world was a foreign space, empty of any evidence that they’d once held life.

As Mateo unlocked the Garden door, Finley swallowed. The cold suddenly felt invasive on her skin, the pounding of her heart a prophetic drum inside her ears. She’d known for thirty-six days that her death was coming, but only now, only upon this step into the deserted room, did that knowledge feel real.

Anthony grabbed her and Mateo’s hands and began pulling them to the final flight of stairs tucked into a shadow-webbed corner. The steps were meant only for electrical purposes, yet because of their position underneath the great window, their path could alternate as one of escape. “Come on, guys, it’s time.”

Mateo grimaced. “Dude, let go, your hands are sweaty.”

“No. I’m not letting go-” He rounded the corner and dragged them up the steps, “-because you two can’t get an opportunity to abandon me.”

“We wouldn’t-” Finley started.

“Ah, ah, ah. No. I’m taking precautions.”

Finley smiled, despite the terror leeching the light from her bones. “Before we die, I’m just gonna say you’re both idiots.”

“Thank you, Finley.”

“Yeah,” said Mateo, still trying to wriggle out of Anthony’s grip. “I guess you’re not half so bad, either.”

At the staircase’s summit, Anthony smirked. “Masks on.” He released them, and Finley tossed each their mask. Hers fit snugly on her head, and the transparent shield allowed for a clear view. The moment the wraparound latches were clicked in place, oxygen glided in delicately like the slow river currents Finley had always longed to see.

With a few taps and entered codes, Anthony guided the Garden’s doors into their airlock position. Finley worried about the androids, and if they would be alerted in their basement holding, but thrust the thought away. Focus.

“Okay,” said Anthony. “Finley, you tell us what’s next, since this was your ingenious idea.”

“On it.” She strode back down to the toolshed, wherein she grabbed a ladder and six scythes. Anthony whooped from afar when he spotted the shining tools.

It took some time to organize themselves, but eventually, they spread out and aimed to pull off a section’s layers individually. Since the window was divided into desk-sized squares set between a frame, they figured the easiest method would be to center on a single part. However, the second the first panel came loose, a searing alarm went off.

“Shit,” hissed Anthony. “Shit, shit, shit.”

Mateo yanked the removed glass sheet and let it crack on the floor. “We need to go faster!”

“No!” said Finley. “It won’t work! Just smash it!”

“We can’t!” Mateo squeaked. “It’ll hit us, we’ll-“

Thud. Thud. Thud. The androids’ distant footsteps pierced the air, and everyone froze with dread. Finley could just picture them jolting from their individual quarters and marching the halls, awakened now and ready to enact Admin’s code. Their flawless gray exteriors would join with the shadows themselves, but their ice-blue eyes would remain distinct, gleaming coldly. Haunting and lithe figures they were, things Finley had eluded her entire life. This hour, though, she might see them under their truest light. Struggle as their arms cut flesh, not wheat. She swallowed. Focus. Her hold on her scythe increased and she pointed at the left corner. “Mateo!”

His head whipped in her direction. “Pull there. Anthony! You do the middle edge. I’ll do the opposite right, and we pull as one, hard!”

Mateo and Anthony scrambled to their positions, and Finley barked, “Now!”

With an agonizing shriek, the panel tore loose. The trio jumped backwards as it shattered on the ground, and a fraction of a second later, Mateo clutched at his leg in pain. Finley moved towards him, but he waved her away and stood up. “Keep going!” She nodded.

Over the course of many stressful minutes, they worked furiously to disassemble the square. Finley and Anthony amassed cuts of their own, but neither was willing to relent unless absolutely necessary.

Then, once three panels remained, a pounding erupted against the doors, causing them to jump as one. Finley panicked. Androids. No, no, no. “Faster!”

“I know!” said Mateo. “Now!”

They shoved their scythes four feet up, and as had become pattern, leapt away while the glass square landed to join the rest. The heap of shards had started blossoming into a blood-speckled diamond flower. Finley briefly glanced down at the boys’ legs, and held in a gasp when she saw their crimson, tattered pants.

“Now!”

The pounding increased, the tight doors beginning to hum with activation. At the same time, another panel fell down, turning all sound into an ear-splitting cacophony.

“Now!”

The last panel gave way under their savage blows. Finley felt a fragment strike her mask for the fourth time, but ignored it in the hopes that the material’s density would keep it from breaking.

“Get the ladder!” ordered Anthony. “Get the ladder!”

Finley hurried over to where it leaned against the gray wall, and gripping it with bleeding hands, placed it against the wall beside the square, inside the hole. Immediately, she began cranking it upwards with all her might.

“Come on, come on….” whispered Mateo, glancing between Finley and the nearest door.

“Got it!” she exclaimed.

Mateo pushed her. “Go first! Go!”

Finley didn’t dare argue. She clambered up the rusty metal structure, gasping for air inside her small mask, oblivious to all sensations except the scorching panic inside her veins. Finally, she reached the summit, and there hurled herself onto the dusty ground, making sure to give the others room. From her position, the Garden’s chaos sounded dim and harmless.

Finley trembled. She felt exhilarated. She felt fiery. She felt, for the first time in her life… rebellious.

Anthony’s voice boomed out of the hole. “They’re coming in!”

Finley threw herself to look over the messy, glass-toothed edge, but Mateo’s face popped up and blocked her. “Move!” he waved, and jumped out beside her. Without pause, he rotated to stick his hand back down for Anthony. “Grab on!”

Anthony yelped from down below and rushed rung-to-rung with the energy of a fleeing hare. However, just as his hand locked around Mateo’s arm, a bang sounded and he let out a raw-throated scream. As he started sagging in Mateo’s hold, another bang reverberated from down below, and Anthony writhed with pain. Mateo immediately wrenched him onto the Surface. “No, no… Anthony, c’mon, man.” He shook Anthony’s body. “Anthony….”

“I’m fine,” sputtered Anthony. But when Finley saw the dripping bullet wounds in his legs, she had to force herself not to scream. “Roll me over… I wanna see.”

Mateo obeyed. As Anthony adjusted himself against Mateo’s chest, Mateo ripped parts of his cargo pants off and began wrapping Anthony’s wounds, causing Anthony to cry out from the pressure. He tapped Mateo’s arm. “Stop… Stop. We weren’t… gonna survive this anyway. …Let it go.”

Mateo’s jaw tightened, and he nodded, looking away into the distance. Finley did the same. Down below, the commotion slowed to a stop. She figured it was because the androids had given up and decided to leave them, pointless as pursuit was. The prospect was disturbing, but at the very least, a beneficial outcome.

A wave of silence swept over, punctuated only by Anthony’s ragged breathing. After absorbing the landscape, Finley put a hand over her masked mouth. The view was rough and held the grim tone of desertion; nevertheless, to her it was beautiful.

The Surface.

For hundreds of miles outwards, it stretched in an endless grassy plain. Now and then, trees - trees - stood proudly under the starry sky, like giants above the old human structures of ages past.

Mateo chuckled beside her, and upon seeing the brim of tears dancing in his eyes, she felt a pool form on her own.

Anthony gasped. His hand shot upwards, its shaking pillar cutting into the black sky, and whispered, “Look.”

Mateo and Finley raised their heads.

“Oh my God,” said Finley. “Oh my God….” All three of their masks beeped. Five minutes remaining. Please locate an oxygen tube at the nearest locker- She shut the voice off firmly, and the warning drowned to nothing. Mateo followed suit and gently turned Anthony’s off. “Do you….” he started. “Is that real?”

Finley’s eyes remained locked to the stars. She couldn’t find the power to respond. For there, drifting alongside the dark clouds, floated luminous creatures the likes of which she’d never encountered. Their bodies were long, lean, and translucent, and glowed with an ethereal light resembling that of the extinct jellyfish. Two elegant wings extended from each creature’s middle sides, and an identical but smaller one rested atop their heads, like a crest. And where their hind legs should’ve been, they owned a sleek tail, which propelled them gracefully across the sky.

Finley gasped, despite herself. She was so exhausted and dumbstruck that the moment took on a dreamlike quality, blurred along the rim and unimaginably wonderful inside. This is what Admin's been fighting? This is what we work against? The others appeared similarly entranced.

Abruptly, four of the creatures began to descend towards them. Finley scooted away instinctively, but didn’t have the time or the strength to evade. She’d only made it three feet before the creatures were upon them. They hovered peacefully in the cool air, simply studying the mysterious arrivals.

Anthony shifted. “Tell me I’m not blood loss-crazy.”

“You’re not,” murmured Mateo.

Without moving or tilting her head, Finley switched her implant to its most precious setting: Vision. She selected Record.

For minutes, the two species observed one another. The creatures didn’t attempt to attack, and neither did Finley or Mateo. In fact, their tranquil aura slowly melted Finley’s pent-up worries. It picked them up off her weary shoulders and carried them away. Following the sensation, a faint whiff of the creatures’ emotions brushed against her, almost like a breeze of thought. The ability was one she’d never learned of, but due to the situation’s current abnormality, she accepted it. Then with shock, she suddenly understood.

We made them, Finley realized. They are our mutations. Our mess, which steals the oxygen from the world. She looked again at the creatures, and a pit of anger formed in her stomach, at herself, at Admin, at everything which had been hidden from them these many years.

Beep.

Before she could process what was going on, Finley’s oxygen supply shut off. Her heart began to hammer; what she’d been expecting was finally here.

It’s happening….

Finley’s breathing turned to strained gasps, as did her companions’. The creatures noticed and shifted uneasily in place. To her surprise, their colors changed in response, from sunset to cold teardrop blue. So peaceful, she thought. Such calm creatures, which can’t help their own existence.

Mindlessly, she reached out with a quivering hand. The creatures flashed pale green, almost alarmed, and began gliding away back to the sky. Finley sighed, then cautiously undid the loops of her mask. The brisk autumn air which greeted her was pleasantly soothing.

She glanced over at Mateo and his removed mask, then fell lightly to the ground next to him and Anthony. Never had she felt so weak, and never had she felt so powerful. Mateo smiled at her. It was a true, joyous smile that she hadn’t thought she’d ever witness. Beneath him, Anthony tilted his head back and grinned.

Finley shook. Her body was giving out. Delicately, she swept her gaze across the immense beauty surrounding them, and when she returned it to her friends, it was as if her being’s sun was rising for the first time.

Retreating to her mind, Finley ended the recording. She hovered over the options for a moment, then decided upon the one she knew was most dangerous - to the implant and her own head - but that she was most sure of.

The low hum of the wind kissed her cheek.

The creatures illuminated the wide sky.

And as her view turned black, Finley selected Send. To everyone.