35. Shuttles and Hoppers

2055, November 12th
Collapse + 6 years

“How do I look?” Helena asked. She twirled before the mirror. Her green dress flared outward, expanding to show a gradient of blues hidden within. When she stopped, the colors folded out of view. Winnie thought of it as a blooming flower, not that she’d tell Helena that. It would only turn her off the dress.

“You look amazing,” Winnie said. “It came out just the way I imagined.”

Helena practiced her come-hither look in the mirror while running her finger along her bare shoulder. “My mom has never dressed this well, has she? She always in those pantsuits or those god-awful gowns. People will notice this.”

“How could they not?” Winnie checked the time. “It’s eight o’clock. Should we head up?”

“As soon as my mom is ready. Are you?”

“I am.” Winnie checked herself over. Winnie’s dress used the same color scheme as Helena’s, only to a lesser extent. She knew better than to wear anything that might compare to Helena. It wasn’t much different than what the charity staff would be wearing, which in turn, complimented the decor they’d selected for the Starlight auditorium.

“Maybe we should head up anyway,” Winnie said. “We’re already late.”

Helena turned to her. “First of all, no. We are never late. The fundraiser is not going to start when neither I or my mom aren’t there, so how could we ever be late? We could show up tomorrow and everyone would still be be waiting for us. Secondly, we’re not moving until my mom is ready, and she will be late. She’s always at least thirty minutes behind whatever her schedule says. If we go up now, we’ll just be waiting on the roof. Besides…” She tapped at her lower lip. “I feel like we’re forgetting something.”

“Your speech?” Winnie held up index cards.

“It’ll be there. I sent a copy to Madeline yesterday.”

“Do you want to rehearse it?”

“Why would I? It’ll be on the teleprompter.”

“I don’t know. Maybe so you don’t trip up? When I get nervous, I stumble over my words sometimes.”

Helena snorted. “Well, I’m not you. I don’t stumble, and I’m definitely not nervous. Everything is going to go fine, at least on my end. What else do we need to bring?”

“I think that’s it. Your dress looks beautiful. Your hair and makeup are perfect. I think Madeline is taking care of everything else.”

“Then I guess we just wait.” Helena sat beside Winnie on the bed. Winnie burned time on her tablet. Minutes passed.

“What’s taking my mother so long?” Helena said. “She is getting ready, isn’t she? She promised she’d come. You don’t think something came up, do you?”

“Wouldn’t Madeline have told us?”

“Yeah, she would. I guess… ugh.” She flopped back. “I guess she’s just taking forever.”

A light tap came from the door. Helena bolted up. “Yes?”

Madeline’s voice. “Your Highness. We’ll be departing from the roof pad. Your mother will be ready in five minutes.”

“About time,” Helena replied. “I’ll be up momentarily.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Footsteps retreated.

“Okay. Okay.” Helena’s checked her hair over. “I’m fine, right?”

“You’re fine.”

“Okay, let’s go.” She headed toward the door. Half way there, she paused. “You have the flashcards, right? You know… In case I get bored in the shuttle or something. Who knows? Maybe the teleprompter will break.”

Winnie kept her face neutral. “Sure.”


“Incoming shuttle. Identify.”

“This is tail number lima alpha four seven delta returning from Emohua relief, scheduled for an oh one twenty arrival. Submitting clearance now.”

The shuttle pilot dragged an image of his flight clearance onto a tower icon that had opened up. Beneath the icon were the words, “HMC Orinoco flight comm.”

Moments later, communications got back with him. “Acknowledged, lima alpha four seven delta. Flight plan transmitted. Switch to grid and proceed.”

The pilot pressed a button that slaved the shuttle to the local repulser grid. There was a bump. Then the ride smoothed out. The shuttle drifted through the air with flawless precision. The pilot was done piloting. Before the craft landed on the citadel, he would need to submit a manifest, but apparently he decided that could wait. He reclined in his seat and rubbed his temples.

The smoke was giving him a headache.

Twice now he’d had to reset the shuttle’s internal smoke alarm, and he kept coughing, as though hinting to his passengers that smoking was prohibited, though he couldn’t even recall that he had passengers.

Josephine and Tan had stowed away aboard the shuttle when it was making a supply run with a military depot in town, although stowing away was a strong word, since they both sat in plain view, strapped in like any passenger would be.

Whenever the pilot realized he wasn’t supposed to have company, Josephine would wipe his memory. She shouldn’t have to do it often, given their stolen uniforms. Unfortunately, Tan would not stop smoking aboard a smoke-free vessel.

He always smoked before doing anything nerve wracking, but he should have done so before the flight. No matter how many times Josephine motioned for him to put it out, he just kept right on smoking. She suspected it was his own little protest about this trip.

Rescuing Naema had been Josephine’s idea, not his. After the fighting had settled down at the market, she had looked around for Naema, but there was too much confusion. When the wall bots started locking the place down, she knew they had to leave. For hours, Josephine fretted. She just knew they’d captured her, but Tan had told her to wait, that Naema’s power would protect her. But then Josephine had gone to check Naema’s home. The Lakirans were there. Two prowlers drifted overhead while soldiers questioned neighbors. Naema’s shack had been torn down. That decided it.

“We’re going,” she’d told Tan.

“No.”

“Yes. We are.”

“Too dangerous. They catch her. They catch us too.”

“You already know what it means for us if they get her power.”

“They can’t. Her power break theirs. No good for them.”

“So you want to just leave her?”

He’d shrugged so casually that she’d wanted to sock him. “We save her if we could, but she is on Citadel now. Not safe. They will see us. High exemplars will find us. Not a chance. Will.”

“That’s not for certain.”

“Every time we go onto military base, Bishop come. Every time.”

“If it was you they caught, I’d come save you. I did once.”

This silenced him.

“You can stay if you want. I’m going,” she said. “I could use your help though. If they catch me, how long do you think you’ll last on your own?”

The look he’d given her was withering, but that had settled it. Two hours later found them aboard this shuttle. Josephine tried not to dwell on the argument. Tan should have wanted to come in the first place, but threatening to withdraw her protection like that, even implying it… that was something Sakhr would have done.

A popup appeared on the pilot’s screen. He needed to submit a manifest now. Josephine unfastened her seat, stepped to the cockpit, and reached over the pilot’s shoulder to fill it out.

“Hey!” he shouted.

“I’ll do this,” she said while clearing his memory. She filled out the form. Three passengers: the pilot and the names of the officers from whom Josephine had stolen the uniforms. The rest was cargo information. She submitted it and sat down in the copilot’s seat. Whenever the pilot started to ask her a question, she pulled from his memory. Any time he glanced back to see Tan, she performed her mental exercise.

Tan and I work toward the same goal right now. We act as one.

And she’d pull.

Pretty soon, he just accepted his mysterious crew. The grid system guided the shuttle into one of many bay doors along the citadel’s hull. Like a feather, it touched down on a landing pad. The doors opened, and soldiers gathered in to unload supplies.

Josephine and Tan walked past them. She cleared the soldiers’ memories as they went. Outside the landing was a narrow corridor. Soldiers sidled by to get around them. None paid them attention.

Tan and Josephine weren’t intruders. They were just in the way.


Her Majesty the Queen was not on the roof when Winnie and Helena arrived, but their ride was. The shuttle was Victoria’s personal hopper. It looked a giant, chrome beetle. One of its wings was up, and a red carpet led into its exposed flank. Wind whipped at Winnie and Helena’s dresses. A few service men were scouring the landing pad and all the other corners of the roof for security. Other guards waited by the door. It was all a bit much for Winnie, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t enjoy the fanfare. Tonight, she was part of the royal procession.

She and Helena boarded the hopper.

The inside was small for a royal vehicle, but it didn’t lack for luxuries. Seats lined the walls like a limousine and it had the same accommodations. The ice compartment had fresh ice. The bar bay had chilled drinks. No sign of wear and tear. At the front was a little window showing into a cockpit. This shuttle could fly on its own. The charity was in Cuba, and while Cuba had acted as a fantastic neutral ground during the war between the empire and many North American factions, it didn’t have a repulse grid.

Helena sat in the seat near the door, where she could see anyone approaching. Madeline emerged on the roof holding a box covered with a blanket. Helena rolled her eyes and scooted to make room. Madeline loaded the item in beside them. Winnie’s quick mental glance inside revealed Willow, Victoria’s pet hawk, sleeping soundly on a perch.

“Sure,” Helena said. “Let’s bring the bird. Why not?”

“Your mother will be right up,” Madeline said. “She’s just had a quick delay.”

“Figures.”

Madeline ducked out and scurried back to the roof exit.

“Why are we bringing Willow?” Winnie asked.

“Because my mother is borderline insane, and this is not a quick delay. Where the hell is she?”

Winnie remained quiet.

Helena looked square at her. “Well?”

“What?”

“Where is she? Use your power.”

“I’m never supposed to use my power on her.”

“Oh, Christ. Don’t search her bedroom. Just check the stairwell or something. Is she coming?”

“No.” Winnie hadn’t use her power, but the absence of any commotion outside the shuttle was enough to tell.

“I wonder if she’s doing this on purpose?” Helena said. “I had to remind her about this a thousand times. It’s probably a power play. She wants me to wait.”

“She’s never on time for my tutoring sessions… except when she’s really really early.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. She sees you every week, and you’re just a flair. You’d think she’d care more about her own daughter.” Helena sighed and slumped back. “She doesn’t even want to do this.”

Winnie didn’t know what to say. Fortunately, Helena didn’t look to her this time.


“What now?” Tan asked. For this trip, he was placing all the burden on Josephine. Back when they were suiting up, she’d wondered whether she’d have to tie his shoelaces for him.

“We have to find Naema,” she replied. That was obvious, but she was thinking out loud. Her prearranged plan ended here. “She’s probably wherever they keep all the other prisoners.”

How to find it? Simple.

Josephine caught the next soldier hurrying by. “Do you know where they hold the prisoners?”

He looked perplexed.

“This is my first time aboard,” she explained.

“Do you mean the detention center, ma’am?”

Josephine had forgotten she’d stolen her uniform from an off-duty captain.

“Yes, that’s what I meant.”

“It’s on Deck six in the Fore Sector.” He pointed down a corridor and issued several directions. From the sound of it, Josephine would have to walk a good ten or twenty minutes. The one part of his instructions that were clear was this: go down, and go toward the front.

She thanked him. He saluted and continued on. She yanked away his memories of the conversation.

They only got lost a few times looking for the detention center. Once they got near, it was impossible to miss. The yells echoed down the corridors. The stench wafted. The center was a hallway with an L-bend in it. Along the walls on both sides were cells, each large and filled with a dozen or so people. Despite the crowding, Josephine got the sense this was a quiet hour. The refuse covering the floors was from many more people than this.

Josephine walked up and down the hall looking at each inmate. Naema wasn’t among them.

“There might be more cells,” she said. “I think there’s another block on the other side of the ship just like this.” It was infuriating how few signs there were pointing to anything.

“She not here,” Tan said.

“Not here here, but in another cell. Come on.”

“Not in cells. If they take her family, then they know her. She not here. She will be different. Eh… separate.”

He had a good point. She felt silly for not realizing it herself. But then where was she supposed to look?

Josephine cornered another soldier.

“Is there another detention center?” she asked.

Another puzzled expression. “Sir?”

“I’m looking for a detainee. They’re not here.”

“Have you tried processing?”

“What’s that?”

“What’s processing?” he asked, as though clarifying that she was asking an obvious question.

I just transferred here.” Her words were harsher than she’d intended.

“It’s where we put civilians into the system before sending them home.”

“No. That’s not what I want. The person I’m looking for is being held, probably apart from the others.”

“Oh. Then you probably want the brig.”

The brig. Yes. That does sound like a place Lakirans would put an innocent teenaged girl.

“Where is that?” she asked.


Winnie could tell when Her Majesty Queen Victoria was about to show. Guards outside the shuttle lifted a hand to their earbuds. Their stances became rigid. Others hurried through scanning high and low for last minute threats. Some peeked into the hopper as though Helena and Winnie wouldn’t have noticed an assassin sitting with them.

“About time,” Helena said. She scooted farther into the shuttle to make room. “I bet she didn’t even try to match the color scheme we made.”

“I guess we’ll see soon.” Winnie always felt uncomfortable with Helena’s reproachful remarks toward the queen. It couldn’t be wise to talk poorly about a dictator who could read your mind.

Victoria emerged from the roof access door with Madeline at her heel. Helena was right. Victoria wore one of her own formal dresses: white blouse and a cream skirt with a matching vest. Beautiful attire, but it wouldn’t match the scheme arranged for the charity ball. She must have known; Helena reminded her endlessly, yet she chose to ignore it. Victoria may have thought Helena’s micromanaging of the scheme was childish, but even Winnie’s mother would have played along.

Victoria took the seat next to Willow. She looked her daughter up and down. Helena pretended to gaze out the window. When Victoria looked at Winnie, Winnie waved.

“Winnie,” Victoria nodded. She looked at her daughter. “Are we ready to go?”

We’ve been ready to go for a while. Just waiting on you.”

Victoria didn’t rise to it. She turned to Madeline. “Let’s go then.”

Madeline climbed into the cockpit with a pilot. A guard closed the hopper door, and they took off. The world outside the windows dropped away.

“Have you tried any of the new exercises I’ve given you?” Victoria asked. She was studying a tablet she’d brought with her, but she could only be speaking to Winnie.

“A couple,” Winnie said. “I was busy getting ready.”

“Any progress?”

“A little.”

“How so?” She looked up. Winnie stared off as though recalling. Eye contact would reveal how little “a little” was. Victoria would find out eventually, but why now?

“I was able to see in the dark without pretending there was a light,” Winnie said.

“Can you distinguish colors yet?”

“Not in the dark, no.”

“How about your point of view exercises? Can you be aware of all sides of an object?”

“Kind of.”

Victoria tilted her head. “Kind of?”

“I can see it from all sides, but it’s like I’m using a lot of cameras.”

“You could already do that.”

“Uh, yeah. I guess I mean I’m able to do it more easily now.”

“I don’t want you to do it wrong more easily. It’s a crutch. You should know what something looks like inside and out without having to look at it. Stop practicing it with your flair for now. Just try to imagine a fictional object. Practice knowing it inside and out without relying on visualizing it from different angles. Once you can do that. Then we’ll see if you’re ready to start projecting again?”

“Okay.”

“Hmm.” Victoria eyed her. “And how about locating people? Any progress on that?”

“Oh, come on,” Helena said. “Why are you doing this now? We’re going to the charity concert.”

Victoria turned her gaze to her daughter, her expression cool, but to Winnie’s surprise, she did stop. For Victoria, ruling the world came second to training flairs. This charity would fall even lower on the list. Winnie was still glad for the interruption. Otherwise the trip would become another lesson.

Helena spoke. “So I’m ready for my speech. I thought what we’d do, Mother, is enter together. For pictures. You’re not dressed in the scheme, but that’s okay. The queen should stand out. It’s supposed to be just food and drinks to start. No dancing until later. Then we give our speeches to start the auction. Madeline forgot to give me a copy of your speech, but as long as it covers—”

“I didn’t prepare one.”

“You…? Then you’re just going to say a few short words then? That’s fine. People will be tired by then, it might be—.”

“I’m not making a speech.”

“Oh. What? Oh. Are you sure? I mean, aren’t people going to expect one?”

“No.”

“But I just assumed you would. You always do. It’s on the program that you are.”

“We’ll change the program.”

Silence. Helena stared at her lap. Her jaw was clenched.

Victoria sighed and looked from her tablet. “I’m not giving a speech because this is your night, Helena. You organized it, and now you’re hosting it.”

“But it was your idea.”

“Yes. I know it was, but the audience doesn’t. The point of this charity is to build your presence. You need to stop being a nameless daughter and start being a political figure. So yes, I’m not giving a speech. You are. You’ll be meeting the guests. You’ll be posing for pictures. You’ll make connections.”

“If you don’t want to be a part of this, then why’d you even come?”

Victoria threw her hands up in exasperation. “I’m coming to support you, Helena. Nobody has any idea who you are, so I’m lending credibility to your cause, but I only plan to mingle. The world needs to see that this was your initiative. Soon you’ll have enough status to draw media attention yourself.”

“Then you won’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Victoria regarded her. “Are we going to start this now? This is your night. Let’s not ruin the mood before we’re even there.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

“And Helena?”

“What?”

“You should review your speech. There won’t be a teleprompter.”

I know that. I said I reviewed my speech, didn’t I?”

“If you say so. As long as you’re sure you’re not going to make a fool of yourself.”

Winnie sat still, acting as though she hadn’t even heard the conversation, but she wondered about Victoria’s mention of the teleprompter. It’s as though Victoria had been listening in to her conversation with Helena earlier using her own power, or perhaps Victoria had seen it from her head when she’d waved at the queen just now.

Either way, it was unsettling, but there wasn’t anything to do about it.

In her lap, she held the index cards prominently. She knew better than to offer them to Helena now; that would be siding with Victoria, but Helena could easily snatch them if she wanted.

She gazed out the window. Sure enough, after a minute, Helena yanked the index cards from her hand.

27. Tequila Worm

2055, November 7th
Collapse + 6 years

“Ready?”

Winnie nodded.

“Okay then,” said Helena. “On three. One. Two. Three.”

Helena and Winnie threw back a shot of tequila. It seared Winnie’s mouth despite her attempt to taste as little as possible. She knew to swallow the shot in one go, but it took her three swallows nonetheless. The last one malfunctioned as her throat rebelled, and tequila went down her trachea.

Helena slammed her shot glass onto the floor, threw her hands above her head, and whooped. She laughed when Winnie coughed. “You’re such a lightweight. I can’t believe you’ve never had liquor before.”

Inhaling alcohol had nothing to do with being a lightweight, but Winnie didn’t correct Helena. Instead, she shrugged apologetically as she coughed.

Helena sat against her bed and picked up the tequila bottle they’d stolen from a corporate bar on the fifteenth floor. Breaking in had been simple enough since no one was in there on the weekends. Helena had skulked about like a cat burglar in a museum while ordering Winnie to scout ahead with her power. She’d even dressed in dark clothes and had demanded Winnie do the same.

The clandestine mission had been thrilling, until the bar door had opened quite simply with a swipe of Helena’s pass card. Either that was a gross security oversight, or the adults figured stealing liquor was a harmless rebellion for a princess. 

Helena had clearly selected this tequila because it looked expensive. The bottle was hand-crafted glass. The cap had a wax-cover, and floating around inside was what looked like a bloated caterpillar. She’d asked Helena about this. Helena merely made fun of her naivety.

The two had snuck the bottle back to Helena’s suite to lounge at the base of her gargantuan, frilled bed. This was her idea of a midnight break after an evening spent preparing for the charity in two days.

“You ready for another?” Helena shook the bottle playfully.

“I think I need a few minutes.”

“Oh come on, this is smooth. Might be one of the better vintages I’ve had.” She swirled the bottle, studying the bloated corpse within. “Danny Torres had a party at his dad’s house a couple months ago. He was so proud of his Black Label liquor. It was so gross.” She poured another shot into each glass. “Come on. We’re never going to get drunk at this rate. Ready?”

Winnie wasn’t, but she held up the glass anyway. Helena counted away, licked salt from her wrist, then swallowed the shot in one go. Winnie tried swallowing hers slowly, thinking it might be easier that way. She was wrong. Fortunately, Helena was too busy biting a lime slice to notice Winnie gagging.

Helena whooped again. She laughed at Winnie’s scrunched expression. Although Winnie noticed, with a bit of satisfaction, that Helena’s eyes were watering.

“You’re such a light weight,” Helena said again—the phrase of the night apparently. “You’re already red.”

Winnie felt her cheeks. She hadn’t noticed how warm her face felt. Her head seemed improperly weighted too, not too light or too heavy, but something off.

“I’ve never drank before,” Winnie said. “I’m not sure I should have any more.”

“Seriously? You’re already done? One more.”

“What if we watch some more and do another shot later?”

Projected on Helena’s wall was a paused image of an old pre-Collapse show about high school students. It had a weird name that Winnie couldn’t recall right now. For days, Helena had been catching Winnie up, showing her the pilot and several “good” episodes while narrating her own thoughts along the way. Winnie tried to be interested. She’d certainly watch right now if it saved her from another shot.

“We’re not even drunk yet, and you just want to watch television?” Helena studied the tequila bottle. After a pause, she pushed it aside. “Fine. If you want to.” She tapped a button on her tablet, and the show resumed.

As Winnie watched, nausea set in. She was constantly swallowing caustic burps. Her head was heavier every time she thought about it. Beside her, Helena sat placidly, watching the show, not narrating as she usually did. Getting drunk struck Winnie as an unnecessary addition to the night. Though it was nice to finally know what getting drunk felt like, even if it felt wretched.

“This is dumb,” Helena said. “We’re just sitting around. Let’s do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Anything.”

“We could invite more people over.”

“Have you forgotten? No one can come onto the campus this late.”

“We could go to them?”

“Don’t be stupid. I can’t leave. Even if my mom let me, I’d have to bring my bodyguards, who are the biggest buzzkills in the world. Nobody else wants to drink when my guards are standing there eyeballing everyone. Seriously. I’m a prisoner. It’s like the only fun I have these days is the basketball outings, and I’m only playing basketball because my mom makes me. It sucks being the princess.”

“Yeah, but what about when you’re queen? Think about what kind of parties you’ll have then. You could order your guards to look the other way.”

“I guess so. Sometimes I think that’s never going to happen. I’m going to spend my whole life as the heir to the throne and never actually get it.” Helena studied her shot glass. Normally talking about her future lifted her mood.

“What about when you turn eighteen?” Winnie asked. “You’ll have more freedom then, right?”

“Why would I? I’ll still be here. Do you know my mom has already decided where I’m going to college? Guess where? The Lakiran Institute. Just a couple of blocks away. I’ll still be living here.”

“Wow. Your mom is really protective.”

Helena scoffed. “She doesn’t give a shit. She hasn’t talked to me in over two weeks now. You see her more than I do. I’m just another of her endangered pets. Lock me up and don’t touch.” Helena poured herself and Winnie another shot. “Even when I try to spend time with her, she just brushes me off. One time, I talked Madeline into letting me come along with my mom for some summit meeting in China or whatever. My mom threw a fit. She bitched out Madeline about going behind her back. And this was during a school break. I wouldn’t miss school or anything. I had a hotel room booked and everything. But my mom made Madeline cancel it all.”

Helena held up her shot glass and looked at Winnie to do the same. Winnie didn’t argue it. After the shot, Helena did not bother whooping.

“She cares more about her fucking animals than she does me. At least she visits them once in a while.”

“Willow and Marzipan?”

“All of them. Haven’t you seen the thirty first floor?”

“No.” Winnie recalled Madeline mentioning that floor when she first visited—four floors dedicated to environmental restoration. She never did take Madeline up on the tour. “Does your mom go there a lot?”

“At least once a week. It’s supposed to be a restricted area. The trainers are trying to make the animals ready to go in the wild. Whenever I go there, they tell me I’m acclimating them to humans and kick me out. But then my mom goes there and plays with them like they’re a bunch of toy poodles.”

“Weird.”

“Fucking stupid is what it is.”

Helena flopped back against her bed, nearly knocking over the bottle. They watched the show in silence.

“Hey,” Helena sat up and grinned. “You want to go check it out?”

“I thought you said you weren’t allowed in there.”

“I’m not, but who cares? Come on. Bring the tequila.”

Helena was already headed toward the door, so Winnie collected the drinks, waited for the room to stop spinning, and followed. Helena was boarding the elevator when Winnie caught up. Inside, Helena swiped her security card and pressed the button for floor 31. The button panel replied with an angry beep.

“What the fuck? Come on.” Helena banged the panel. It took the beating stubbornly.

Winnie decided to let this play out before suggesting they head back, but then Helena pressed the button for floor 38. The elevator closed.

“Where are we going?” Winnie asked.

“We need to steal one of the caretaker’s cards. Make sure they’re all asleep.”

Winnie mentally dove down to the thirty-eighth floor. It was a residential floor, complete with a common area and a kitchenette. The cleaning staff clearly didn’t visit there. Crumbs covered the sofas and a television set had a mess of gaming consoles nested beneath it. The coffee table between the two had scattered papers and bowls of finished cereal that no one had bothered moving to the sink. The dorms connecting to the common area had personalized doors, either with posters or clippings. One had a small whiteboard on it with a marker attached by velcro so visitors could leave notes. Winnie didn’t look in any of the rooms. She was already breaking one of Victoria’s cardinal rules: no looking in the tower.

“I think they are,” she said.

“Look around. See if any of them have left for the weekend.”

Reluctantly, Winnie did so. Of the twelve rooms, nine were occupied. Of those nine, eight were sleeping. Another was sitting on his bed in his underwear playing a game on a computer.

She wished Helena wouldn’t make her do this.

The remaining three rooms had messy beds and laundry scattered about. Two had passcards that she saw: one attached to a retractable belt wire resting on a desk, the other on a lanyard hanging on the backside of the door. She checked the locks of each door, looking at the pins to see if they were unlocked. One was.

Violating privacy with her power was far too easy. She only hoped Victoria wouldn’t care too much.

The elevator opened on that floor. Helena crept down the hall to the caretaker’s common room. “Did you see any?”

“Are you sure you want to do this? We’re going to get in trouble.”

“So?”

“I mean, even if we get away with it. Your mom will see it in my head.”

“What’s she going to do about it? Ground me? I’m already stuck here. And you’re a flair. You could murder someone and she’d forgive you.So don’t be lame. You see one, don’t you?”

Reluctantly, she nodded.

“Then go get it.”

Solemnly, Winnie opened the door to the common room, walked to to the unlocked door, and opened it just long enough to snake her hand around and grab the lanyard. That was that, the point of no return. She was going to get in trouble sooner or later.

They snuck out. Helena bumped into her and giggled. Despite herself, Winnie giggled too.

Back at the elevator, Helena swiped the stolen card and punched the floor for the garden. This time, the elevator obliged.

When the door opened, it was as though the elevator transported them outside. A blast of warm, damp air struck them. It smelled of musk and manure. Ahead was a cobbled path leading through grass into shadowed woods. There were no walls, only a deep darkness from which glowing eyes might look out. A canopy of foliage took the place of a ceiling, and in some places, stars peeked through. Only through her flair could Winnie see rafters and skylights far overhead. The place was larger than a stadium, and it had trees—full grown trees that had no right being indoors.

“Follow me.” Helena skipped along a path into the woods. Winnie followed. Behind her, the elevator closed, cutting away the small haven of light Winnie had been relying on. She was left in pitch black, with no sound but the chirring of crickets. Fortunately, her flair didn’t need light anymore. She could pretend there were lights, and that was good enough. Victoria’s would disapprove of this crutch. According to her, Winnie shouldn’t need any light at all, real or imaginary.

Helena was ahead, drunkenly feeling her way along the path. Winnie caught up and took the lead while Helena held her shoulder.

“How are you not bumping into everything?” Helena asked.

“My flair.”

“Oh. Right.”

They arrived at an enclosure of sleeping pig-like creatures. The plaque before the enclosing wall said “Tapirs”, whatever those were. Winnie scanned further. There were enclosures for everything from jaguars to crocodiles. One enclosed section even contained birds.

Helena looked into the enclosure. The tapirs were sleeping behind a fake rock wall.

“Well, this was a waste of time,” she said. “You can’t see any of them.”

I can.”

Helena snorted. “It’s not really the same though, is it.”

“It’s better, kind of. I think if I were blind, I’d be okay.”

“Well, look at you. I guess I’ll just sit here and drink while you imagine the animals.”

“You could see the reptiles.”

“Oh yeeaah. Take me to the reptiles. Let’s see those little purses.” Helena draped her arms over Winnie’s shoulders, and they stumbled their way through the dark like a haphazard conga line.

The reptile section had paths meandering between islands of exhibits. A nitrate, reptile smell filled the air.

Winnie took Helena to the first enclosure. It had a sleeping tortoise, a slightly larger breed than Marzipan upstairs—nearly football sized. Its shell was spiked. Winnie checked the other enclosures.

“Your mom has a lot of tortoises,” Winnie said.

“Because they’re morons. Animals come here when they’re too sick or dumb to make it on their own. These guys just want to go extinct, but my mom won’t let them. I don’t know why anyone cares.” Helena straddled an enclosure barrier and took the tequila from Winnie. She talked as she poured another pair of shots. “She should be saving more tigers or something. At least they’re on the LakiraLabs logo. But nope, she saves the suitcase lizards.”

Winnie sat across from her. The tortoise inside the enclosure awoke and peeked out at them. Helena ignored it as she handed Winnie her shot. “To my mother’s little preciouses.” She threw back her shot.

Winnie set hers behind her. “This place is amazing,” She said, looking around. Between the poor lighting, the crickets, and the warm air, it was just like a climate that existed only before the Collapse.

“Yeah. Fucking fantastic. Isn’t it? She spends way too much time down here.”

“Maybe it’s like a hobby to her,” suggested Winnie, “like stamps.”

“No. It’s an obsession. You’ve seen those animals in her office, right? The ones that make the place smell like a pet store? They’re like her other children. She’ll go on trips all over the world. I’ll ask to go along, and she’ll say no. But she’ll take them with her all the fucking time.”

“Weird.”

“Yeah. Conference in England? Why not bring a bird? And she even cleans their cages herself. One time she left the tortoise behind and its feeder broke. Since the caretakers aren’t allowed up there, they asked me to feed the tortoise. I called my mom up about how to unlock the stupid cage and she yelled at me about respecting her personal boundaries.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Whatever. I don’t I care. My mom rules the world, and I’ll go to college and do whatever. When she dies, I’ll take over and I won’t have to deal with her shit anymore.” She poured another shot. “Cheers.” Holding it up, she nearly took the shot when she noticed the nearby tortoise watching her. “Cheers to you too. First thing I’ll do when I’m in charge is throw you back in the jungle. She poured some tequila over the shell of the tortoise. It’s eyes tightened, and it retreated.

As the reptile plodded to its miniature pond, Winnie considered telling Helena that the alcohol might make them sick, but she could guess Helena’s response to that.

While Winnie was watching the tortoise, Helena took her shot. When she threw her head back, she nearly toppled from her perch. Winnie lunged to catch Helena, and nearly toppled right along with her. In regaining their balance, they knocked the tequila bottle over. It shattered against the pathway. Tequila stench overpowered the zoo smell.

 Leaning against each other, Helena and Winnie burst out giggling. Straddling the enclosure wall, gripping one another like two exhausted boxers, they laughed until their sides hurt.

Settling down, Helena smiled at Winnie. Something about the smile was lopsided, but Winnie couldn’t decide what. Helena leaned forward. Winnie’s heart clenched in panic at what she thought was about to happen, but Helena merely grabbed the shot glass behind Winnie.

“You never finished your shot.” Helena held it up.

Winnie took the shot glass. She held it beneath her lips and steeled herself. She really didn’t need any more. But she wasn’t taking this shot for herself.

Finished, she set down the glass. Helena still had her lopsided smile. Winnie’s stomach churned.

A flash of light passed over them. Glancing behind Winnie, Helena sneered and straightened. Winnie visualized behind herself.

Tower security. A man with a flashlight, a blue cap, and a belt of devices approached. His flashlight beam bounced between Winnie to Helena, to the broken tequila bottle. “You know you’re not supposed to be here, Your Highness. How did you get in?”

Helena held her arms out in a pose. “Skills.”

“Your mother’s not going to be happy when she hears about this.”

“My mother can go fuck herself.”

The guard flashed his light in Winnie’s face. “And you. You’re security pass expired at midnight. It’s time for you to go back to your dorm.”

“Would you leave us alone already,” Helena said. “Nobody wants you here. Go away.”

The guard turned his light back on her. “Your mother doesn’t want you here either. So, let’s get moving, ladies. Time to go.”

“Are you giving me an order?”

“I’m carrying out your mother’s orders. So you can leave now, or I can call more guards up here and we can make a scene.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

In answer, the guard pinched a communicator pinned to his uniform. He spoke into it in Portuguese, but Winnie got the gist.

Helena stormed to her feet. “You know what? Whatever. Let’s fucking go. I don’t even care anymore.”

The guard belayed his last order over the comm.

Helena stumbled. She grabbed Winnie for support, though Winnie wasn’t much of a pillar herself. They staggered to the elevator while the guard followed.

A part of her wished she could go back to Helena’s room and sleep over. Helena had opened up to her tonight, and it seem wrong to leave her alone now. On the other hand, she couldn’t wait to get back to her bed. At some point tonight, she was going to vomit.

24. Designer General

2055, October 16th
Collapse + 6 years

Helena examined herself before her three way dress mirrors. She twirled once, twice, then peered over her shoulder in a come-hither look so perfect that Winnie wondered whether she’d practiced it. The red folds of her dress swayed with momentum. The body-hugging gray slip beneath shimmered with each turn. Helena struck an authoritarian pose and traced her fingers along her thigh and body.

“It looks good,” said Helena, “but it’s not what I want.”

“What don’t you like about it?”

“It’s too… asymmetric. The asymmetry is good, but it’s too much of it. I like the colors though. Except not quite. Maybe invert them? Shimmering red under silk gray. What do you think?”

“I think the darker color beneath works better. If you switched them, you’d look like molten lava.”

“Hmm.” Helena folded the cloth layers around her thigh so the red was beneath the gray. Looking in the mirror, she sneered. “No. It doesn’t work, but these colors, I want them more…” She waggled her hands, “…you know?”

“I think I do. How about something like this?” Winnie tapped through her tablet to a design she had queued up. Helena skipped over and plopped onto her bed beside Winnie to watch.

Winnie understood now why no designer in the city could help Helena. Helena was a girl who would accept nothing short of exactly what she wanted. The problem was she had no idea what that was.

They were in Helena’s personal suite at the top of the Capital Tower. For hours, Winnie had designed dress after dress, with fashions ranging from northern winter to southern tropic, conservative to sultry, festive to mourning. Helena’s personal assembler was queued up with dresses, as were all assemblers in the staff quarters. Even the most patient designer should be in a screaming rage by now, which is why it surprised Winnie that she was having so much fun.

She brought up a dress similar to the one Helena was wearing, only dark blue with a sandstone color beneath. “Obviously this wouldn’t work for the charity,” said Winnie, “but do you see the pattern on the slip? Something like that might add texture.”

“Yeah. Texture. That’s what it needs. Show me what that would look like on this.” Helena gestured to herself.

Winnie tabbed back to the red and gray dress. With a few deft strokes of her stylus, she applied the pattern to the slip, took away its asymmetry, and reduced the lopsidedness of the outer dress. “How about that?” She tilted the tablet toward Helena.

Helena nodded. “Queue it up.”

Winnie sent the design to an assembler.

“Anything else ready yet?” asked Helena.

Winnie imagined all the assemblers at once—a recent trick Victoria had helped her acquire.

“No. They’re all busy, but we’ve still got these ones you haven’t tried.” Winnie motioned toward a few outfits on the bed.

“Sure.” Helena yanked off her dress as though it were a gym shirt and reached for the next. “You are so much better than the other designers. All those old people are stuck on fashion from before the Collapse. The world has changed.”

She pulled on the dress and stood before the mirror. “When I become queen, I’m going to make you my chief designer. You’ll be like the designer general for the world. I won’t wear the same dress twice.”

The idea gave Winnie pause. Six hours of trying to meet Helena’s constantly shifting expectations was one thing, but doing it for life? It would be grueling challenge which would constantly push her to new ideas, but it would make her a big name in fashion, which had always been her dream. Though she wasn’t sure how she felt about Helena dictating her future like that. Hopefully it was a whim that Helena would soon forget.

“So long as I could have a team to do all the work for me,” Winnie said.

“You will have servants from around the world, from every imaginable culture.” Helena posed in the mirror. “I like this one. I want it. Not for the charity, but I want it.” She peeled it off and tossed it toward the reclamator. It missed and crumbled beside it.

“I thought you wanted that one,” said Winnie.

“I do, but not that one. That one was assembled.”

“So?”

“I’m not going to wear assembled clothes. That’s what everyone else wears. I’ll wear natural, custom-tailored fabrics.”

Winnie should have just accepted it, but she couldn’t. “But assembled clothes are better than natural fabrics.”

“How can they be? By their very definition, assembled clothes are worthless.”

“If you have that dress handmade, the fabric will be a weave instead of a micromesh, which will make it tear and wear out faster.”

“So? I’ll only wear it once.”

“But it will also have seams, which will interrupt the flow of the dress, and it’ll be dyed instead of having the pigment infused into the mesh, so the color won’t be as good. I think there are only four dyes in the entire world that assemblers can’t make a better version of, and that dress doesn’t use any of them.”

Helena turned to her. “Are you saying natural fabrics are dumb?”

Winnie took care. In the walk-in closet paces away were rows upon rows of natural fabrics. “No. There’s definitely a place for them in high fashion, but I think a lot of people overuse them just to be different. It’s like driving a muscle car when everyone else is flying around in hoppers. Sure, it’s cool, but everyone else is getting around faster than you are. It’s really just for showing off money.”

Helena narrowed her eyes. Winnie pressed on. “Fashion still thinks woven textiles are better because they’re more expensive, but that’s the only thing they have going for them. It’s like… an old idea. Designers use the old world textiles because they haven’t realized yet the new world textiles are better in every way. They’re stuck in the past.”

Helena turned back to the mirror. “But if I wore assembled clothes, then anybody could copy me.”

“What’s it matter if you’re going to wear something new every day? They couldn’t keep up.”

Helena considered it. “That’s a good point. Did you know my mother’s entire cabinet wear handmade clothes? Even the exemplars.”

“Yeah, and their clothes don’t fit as well as a commoner’s clothes do. Plus it’s a huge waste of land to grow textile crops, so it would send a better message.”

Helena slipped on another dress and examined it in the mirror. “It would, wouldn’t it? When I become queen, maybe I’ll outlaw natural textiles.”

“I’m not sure I’d go that far.”

“Why not? I’ll be able to do what I want. People shouldn’t wear them if they’re such a waste. Obviously, I’ll still wear them, but only for things they make sense for, like you said.”

“I feel like people might resent that.”

“So? Who cares?”

“Because…” Winnie chose her words carefully, “when you outlaw something, everybody wants it more. You know? Grass is greener and all that. But if you made it unfashionable to wear natural fabrics, then nobody would. You can set trends with your own wardrobe. You’d be the queen who also leads in fashion. People would want to dress like you.”

The princess dwelled on this. She smiled. “I like it. This is the reason why you’re going to be my fashion advisor.” She tried some gold accessories with her dress. “You know, you’re the first person to disagree with me in a long time. Everyone else is just pathetic. They’re so afraid of my mom. During tryouts, this girl Amy tried out for the team, she was good, but I wanted this other girl, Emma, so she could hang out with us when we’re at away games. I told the coach, and he kicked Amy off, saying some crap about her grades, even after he’d promised her a spot. Then he took on Emma, and she sucked. She quit after a month, but coach still won’t put Amy on the team. It’s always like that. Last year, the dean caught me drinking with some guys on school grounds. He suspended the guys, but he didn’t even write me up. Just gave me some shit about my future. And Isabella and Bridgette? God, don’t get me started. I could tell them they’d look good in kilt-skirts and they’d wear them. I don’t know why I waste my time with those two. I should be hanging out with you.”

Winnie kept her eyes fixed on her tablet.

Helena continued, “They’re just nobodies with rich parents. You’re a flair. There’s nobody else in the world like you. You’re the kind of friend I should have.”

“At least Isabella and Bridget are good at basketball.”

Helena snorted. “Hardly. Besides, it’s not like I care. I only do basketball because my mom makes me. It’s kind of sad that I’m way better than all the other players. It’s probably my genetics. My mom was captain of her varsity rugby team. She got a scholarship to Princeton even though she didn’t need it. Plus whatever my dad did.”

Her father? Winnie felt she should know who that was by now. “What did your dad do?”

“Who knows?”

“What do you mean? Couldn’t you ask him?”

Helena gave Winnie a funny look.

“Or your mom?” Winnie asked, but she’d already revealed her ignorance.

“You don’t know?” Helena asked.

“Know what?”

“Oh right. You’re from nowhere. My mom never married. She had a lot of men tested on all sorts of levels to find the best genetic candidate. Then she had me artificially conceived. Only my mom knows who she finally picked. Not even my father knows.”

“Sounds romantic.”

“I know, right? It makes sense though. You can’t leave something like the heir of the world up to a romantic whim. I’ll probably do the same when the time comes.”

“Do you think your mom will ever marry for love?”

Helena nearly laughed. “My mom? No. I’m not sure she’s capable of love. She doesn’t even like people touching her. And no one could ever live up to her standards.”

“What about you?”

“I don’t think anyone will live up to my standards either. I might have a harem of toys though, but who knows? My mom once told me it’s impossible to fall in love after you’ve read everyone’s thoughts. I can believe that. So many people are such perverts.”

A knock came.

“Yes?”

Madeline entered. “Dinner will be the main hall in ten minutes, Your Highness.”

“Very well. Inform my mother that Winnie will be joining us.”

Winnie startled. That was news to her.

“I’m afraid your mother is at the African Ministerial Summit today and will not be joining you, ma’am.”

Helena paused. “Fine. Then inform the chef.”

“Very good, ma’am.” Madeline bowed and left.

“Pity,” Helena said. “I was looking forward to showing off my new dress.”

She currently wore a cream-colored, gauzy dress with many folded layers of different patterns. Winnie had thrown it together while brainstorming by substituting the textile of an existing dress with a modern transparent nylon mesh so light that the hem and sleeves drifted like tissue paper. Winnie was going to throw it out, until it caught Helena’s eye. Now that Helena was wearing it, it was more scandalous than if Helena wore nothing at all.

“Your mom would be okay with that?”

“Hell, no. She’d make me change immediately. She’s such a prude. One time, Isabella and I went to get tattoos together. I was going to get one right here.” Helena pointed to her pubic mound. “My mom found out and called in an orbital response team to storm the tattoo parlor. She went ballistic.”

“Seriously?”

“She’s such a freak. Everything about my life is controlled by her. Basketball, the charity, even where I’m going to college. I’m the heir to the world, but I don’t even get to decide my own life.

“Wow. That sucks.”

Helena shrugged. She changed out of the sheer dress.

“Honestly,” Winnie said. “I’m kind of relieved not to have dinner with your mom. I’m pretty sure she’d use it as an excuse to grill me about my progress. I think the only reason I don’t have lessons every single day is because she knows I’d run away after a week.”

“I know. She can be such a bitch when she wants to be.”

“I wish she’d slow down. I’m perfectly happy to develop my flair, but she just pushes so much. Hours of exercises every day.”

“Yeah.”

“Does she make you do sessions like that?”

Helena frowned. “No. Why would she?”

“You don’t… for your flair?”

Winnie regretted asking it even before she’d finished. Helena spun around. Her stare pierced Winnie.

“No. Why would I be a flair?”

“I’m sorry. I just thought with the genetics thing and your mom being one—”

“Flairs aren’t inherited, idiot. Everyone knows that. Don’t you think my mom would be breeding flairs if it was?”

“I’m sorry. No. I didn’t know. I didn’t even know flairs existed a month ago. In Washington, most of us still think exemplars are some kind of witch.”

Helena studied Winnie. “You people in North America are so backwards.” She donned a more conservative dress. “I don’t need a flair because I’ll have yours as soon as I’m queen. I’ll have everyone’s. My mom is going to leave me her necklace of glyphs. Then she’s going to give me her master glyph too.”

“Her master glyph?”

“That’s the glyph of her own power. When I have that, I’ll be able to do everything she can do. I’ll be stronger actually, because I’ll still be collecting flairs after she’s gone. That’s why you’re training your power so much. You’re making it better for us. When I rule the world, I’m going to decide who gets powers. You’ll be working for me because I’ll always be more powerful than you, and I will make you train hard just like my mother does so you can make me more powerful. That is why I don’t need a flair.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I’m not upset. I’m just making sure you understand.” She eyed Winnie. When Winnie kept her eyes on her tablet, Helena’s expression softened. She sat on the bed and slung her arm over Winnie’s shoulder. “Don’t worry. I won’t actually be that hard on you. I’m not my mom. Maybe I’ll even give you some powers too. Together we’ll be lords over everyone else. Let’s go to dinner.”

“Let me just call Ms. Montes.”

“Who?”

“The woman at my dorm. I need to let her know I won’t be at dinner.”

“She’ll figure it out. Come on.”

Again, Winnie tread carefully. “I guess I don’t have to tell her, but she would be grateful if I did. It would make it easier to get her to do what I want later.”

“I guess so,” said Helena. “I’ll have Madeline call her then. It’s reasons like this that you’re going to be my advisor.”

On the way to the dining room, Winnie thought back on her conversation with the queen. Could Victoria really think her daughter was fit to rule? She must see that Helena was living in her own spoiled world. What was going to happen when Helena inherited her mother’s glyphs and saw what everyone really thought about her? What Winnie really thought about her?

But maybe Helena could change. She wasn’t fit to rule right now, but like Victoria said, she might be some day. Winnie would be beside her if Helena wanted it. She’d be Helena’s fashion advisor, but maybe she could guide Helena on more than just fashion.

20. Winniebear

2055, September 6th
Collapse + 6 years

The International School of Porto Maná didn’t have a cafeteria. It had the grove. Students gathered food from the kitchen house, which Winnie would have guessed was a repurposed summer lodge had she not known that the school was built from the ground up twelve years ago. Students carried their trays to an outside eating area scattered with wooden picnic tables. It was broken into separate sections, each divided by ivy-rich stone walls, as though nature had reclaimed an ancient castle. Except the foliage was far too domesticated.

Winnie’s orientation guide had mentioned that when it rained, a repulser field built into the stone walls would curve the water to the side. The most the students felt was a gentle misting. Winnie had asked what they do when it’s cold out. It never is, the guide had said, not anymore. They used to eat in the classrooms during the worst of the nuclear winter, but the weather was fine these days. Just like everything else around here.

This is what happens when a company famous for selling high-demand and seriously overpriced assemblers builds a city around its manufacturing: a gold rush town that never stopped prospering. Winnie wondered whether she would ever take it for granted like everyone else around here.

She meandered from section to section holding a tray of food. Each section had several dozen picnic tables. All were claimed.

It was her first day. So far the only person she’d talked to was her guide—a scrawny freshman who was more bored by his tour than she was.

If she were back home, she’d track down Bethany and the other cheerleaders. They’d have saved her a spot. Maybe they still had. She could get on a plane and fly home for lunch. Afterward, she’d fly back, or maybe she’d stay. Who knows?

If she never returned here, this school would certainly notice. They must be celebrating their sudden bump in diversity. She hadn’t expected as many asian students has California had, but so far, she was the only one. The school was mostly white, not even many South Americans. Porto Maná was bubble of old US culture. LakiraLabs had hired its specialists from the States back before the Collapse. She hadn’t realized how much of an effect that had on the population. Or maybe it was just because this was a prestigious, and expensive, school. Some things never change.

Winnie did recognize someone. Princess Helena was sitting with a group a girls, all attractive and athletic like her.

Winnie averted her eyes. She didn’t want Helena to glance and see her staring like a lost puppy. Or to see her at all. Though Helena was the only one who’d so far reached out to Winnie. That said something, right? She was the leader of the female basketball team. Putting up with her might get her in with the right crowd. And if Winnie were being honest, there were probably plenty of people at her old school who thought of Winnie the way Winnie thought of Helena.

She pretended to look around the grove. It wasn’t long before Helena held her arm high and waved. Winnie walked over.

Helena scooted to make room. “Everyone, this is Winnie. She’s that flair my mother found, and she just moved here from North America. Winnie, this is Isabella and Bridget.”

Winnie exchanged greetings with everyone.

“What’s your power?” Isabella asked.

Helena answered. “She can see anything she wants. I saw her this morning jogging around the lake blindfolded. She doesn’t need her eyes.”

The other girls marveled.

“It’s not just that,” Helena continued. “She can see anything. Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“She could be looking in some boy’s shower in China right now.”

“Have you ever done that before?”

“No,” replied Winnie. “I haven’t really had my power that long.”

“What do you look at?”

“Um… I’ve mostly been doing my lessons that the queen gave me. I guess I like to look for the other planets in the solar system. I also use it when I’m on the phone with my uh… family back home so they can show me things.”

“So could you see my house?” asked Isabella.

“Where is it?”

“It’s on Santiago Avenue down by the marina.”

“Can you show me on a map?”

Isabella fetched her tablet and pulled up a satellite image. It only took Winnie a few seconds to fly down to that location from where the satellite saw it.

“Is your house the pink one?”

“Yes. What’s going on? Don’t look inside though.”

“There are people working in the backyard. One guy is cleaning a pool.”

“What’s he look like?”

“He’s hispanic, or local. Um… He looks pretty old. He’s got a short gray beard. He’s wearing a green cap and vest. They all are actually. It’s a uniform I think.”

“That’s right!” Isabella nearly clapped.

“This is cool,” said Bridget, “What about Troy? What’s Troy doing right now?”

“Oh yeah,” replied Isabella. “Go look at Troy.”

“Whose Troy?”

“He’s on the men’s team. He and Bridget have been a thing for ages.”

“No, we aren’t. We broke up.”

Isabella made a show of correcting herself. “Oh, I’m sorry. They broke up again.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I said we’re done this time. He decided he prefers slut cows to women, so who am I to stand in the way of his happiness?”

“So you just want to see if he’s happy now?”

“I just want to see whether he was lying about being sick today. He’s totally with her right now. It’s not like I’m asking her to do anything I couldn’t do myself. I can see his window from my bedroom.”

“With a telescope, sure.”

“I don’t spy on him. I just look out the window sometimes. He’s the one who looks in my window.” Bridget turned to Winnie. “Anyway, you can probably see his house already. It’s that condo two blocks north with the spiky fence.”

Winnie saw it, although she didn’t say immediately. She was growing more uncomfortable with this by the second.

“His window is on the second floor with the ugly blue curtains. Do you see it?”

The blue curtains were drawn closed. Winnie tried not to think about what was inside that window, but her mind worked against her. Just wondering about it caused her flair to fill in the blanks.

Troy was a dark haired boy. From his complexion, probably Brazilian or Argentinian. Winnie wasn’t sure. He was sitting at a desk in a T-shirt and boxer shorts. One hand poked idly at a screen tablet. The other hand…

Winnie panicked. She yanked her mind away before she could process what she was seeing, but by then she realized he wasn’t doing what she was afraid of.

His other hand was tucked into the waistband of his boxers, but that’s it. He was scrolling through some image site. He might be sick. He certainly seemed mellow.

Winnie brought her perspective back to herself and concentrated to keep it from straying. A stray thought could send her back to that room, or any room. Just days ago, focusing on anything had taken concentration. Now her mind drifted as easily as daydreaming. This was the first time she’d ever looked at something by accident.

“What do you see?” asked Bridget.

“He’s there.”

“What’s he doing?”

“He’s just on his computer.”

“But what’s he doing on it. Is he chatting with someone?”

Winnie shrugged. “I didn’t look.”

“Why not?”

“He wasn’t really dressed. I didn’t want to stick around.”

“You you didn’t want to see Troy Garcia naked?” asked Isabella. “You’re not a lesbian, are you?”

“He wasn’t naked naked. I’m just… I’m not sure I should be using my flair to look in people’s windows.”

“Why not?” asked Helena. “Your flair was basically made for it.”

“Spying?”

“Yeah. You’re the best spy in the world now.”

“It doesn’t mean I should.”

“It’s your flair,” Helena said. “You have the power to see whatever you want, and no one will even know you’re doing it. Why shouldn’t you?”

“If I went around looking in everybody’s windows, no one would trust me. Wouldn’t you all be uncomfortable if you knew I might spy on you?” She looked at Helena. “You even warned me not to.”

“Obviously,” said Helena, “I would find out. But everyone else? Fuck ’em. If they have a problem with where you look, then that’s just that: their problem. Not yours. You’re the flair. Why should you hold yourself back just because you’re better than them?”

I wouldn’t want to be spied on,” Winnie said. “Seems hypocritical to do it to others.”

“You should have thought of that before moving here. Didn’t you ever wonder why my mom was so excited to find you?”

“Exploration. Telecommunication. Military scouting.”

Helena burst out laughing. “Exploration? As in space exploration? Nothing in space poses a threat to the empire. And military scouting? That’s a nice word for spying.”

“It’s not like it never occurred to me,” Winnie said. “I just… don’t think about that part of it.”

“That’s stupid. Your power is going to help keep the empire more secure than ever before.”

“I guess,” said Winnie. “What about you two? Don’t you feel uncomfortable knowing I might be spying on you at any moment?”

“Are you going to?” asked Isabella.

“No.”

“Good, then we can be friends.” Isabella said it as a joke, but Winnie wasn’t sure if it was.

“Anyway,” Helena said. “I was thinking Winnie should try out for the basketball team.”

Her?” Isabella said. “But we don’t need any other players.”

“Our bench is short,” Helena said. “And Maria is dropping out next month.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know. Some family thing.”

“Does she not care at all about regionals?”

“It’s fine. Winnie can take her place.”

“Has she ever played basketball before?” asked Bridget.

“Not on a team or anything,” Winnie replied, “but I’m pretty athletic.”

“What have you done?”

“I was in cheerleading?”

Cheerleading?”

“Yeah. Cheerleading.”

“Cheerleading doesn’t count as athletic.”

“It does,” Winnie didn’t bother saying more. No one around here would respect cheerleading no matter what she said. Porto Maná might be a bubble of old USA, but apparently not of all US culture.

“Hmm.” Isabella looked her over. “You’re pretty tiny.”

“So? It’s not all about being tall, right?”

“Exactly,” said Helena. “Besides, it’s not like I’d put her center. If I say she gets to try out, then she gets to try out.”

And Winnie knew she would. It was silly, but something about those girls’ attitude fanned her flame for a sport she’d never cared about before.

“Fine,” Isabella said. “I guess it can’t hurt. You can keep the bench warm if you’re no good, and if you are, well… good then. I hope you don’t mind waking up at five on Saturday morning for shuttle trips”

“Stop being a bitch,” Bridget said. “It’ll be fun. You’ll have fun.” She faced Winnie. “Even if you don’t play much. We all hang out wherever away games take us. Last month we were in São Luís against the Jaguars. We went bar hopping. Oh my God, it was awesome.”

“Do you drink?” Helena asked.

“I haven’t much,” said Winnie. “My town didn’t have any bars.”

“None?” asked Isabella. “Did you grow up in one of those cult factions?”

“No. We just don’t have any drinks. The assembler station didn’t like wasting Food Ready assemblers for alcohol.”

“Sounds boring.”

“Yeah. We didn’t have much free time up there. My friends and I would just hang out when we could. I also liked to design clothes and stuff if I was free.”

“Like a fashion designer or something?” Izabella asked.

“Sort of.”

The girls scrutinized Winnie’s outfit. “You didn’t design that, did you?” asked Isabella

Winnie looked at herself. “These? No. Most of what I make aren’t allowed by the dress code.”

“Why not?” Helena asked.

“It’s just… you know… some of it’s a little racy, the kind of stuff you’d wear to a club maybe. A lot of it’s just silly stuff I make for some extra money.”

“You’re making money?”

“I sell stuff on the assembler library.”

“So you have a site? Where?” Helena pulled a tablet from her backpack.

Winnie froze. She had not expected them to actually be interested. She imagined the three girls crowded around the tablet, looking at her silly socks. She could imagine their derision.

“Oh, it’s just a small site. It’s kind of bad.”

“It’s on the public library, right? What’s the domain?”

“It’s… Winniebear.”

Winniebear?” The other girls said. Helena typed it in. Winnie recognized her splash page displaying her best pieces, including some colorful knee socks. Helena paged through as the other girls craned to look.

The corners of Helena’s mouth turned up. She giggled. The others laughed too, even Isabella, who couldn’t see the screen.

Winnie’s cheeks burned. “I know. They’re kind of dumb. I haven’t worked on it in a few years though. I don’t really wear those clothes anymore. I only keep the site up cause it does make some money.”

“People actually buy these things?” Bridget asked.

“Yeah. I mean, fashion is really different in California. I just made these things for fun mostly.”

Winnie should have just told them it was a private account, or made up anything. People in Porto Maná lived in the hub of fashion, whereas Winnie had designed those clothes when she was thirteen. It seemed childish in comparison. If she took the site down tonight, she could probably stop it from spreading around the school at least.

The girls continued giggling at various items while Helena paged through the site at her own pace, as though by herself.

Helena snorted. “Oh my God,” She pointed out a dress. Winnie couldn’t see which. The other girls tittered.

“Could you imagine my mother’s reaction of she saw me wearing that?”

Isabella and Bridget’s giggle trailed off.

“Is that supposed to be a bathing suit?” asked Isabella.

“Of course not,” replied Helena. “Bathing suits don’t have skirts.”

“It’s a little… skimpy. Isn’t it?”

“That’s obviously the point.” Helena moved to another page. Her head tilted. “Are you modeling these yourself?”

“Most of them,” Winnie said. “The larger sizes are a friend.”

“Why aren’t you showing your face?”

“My mom didn’t want me to.”

“You should. What’s she going to do about it now?”

“What’s your thing with leggings?” asked Bridget. “Nobody wears leggings anymore.”

“They do in Washington,” said Winnie. “Those are all ClusterFabricene. It’s way colder up there.”

“Have you ever designed formal gowns before?” Helena asked.

“I’ve made dresses, but nothing formal.”

“Wait,” said Isabella. “You’re not thinking of having her make the outfits, are you?”

Helena ignored her. “Could you make something like this…” she pointed to one of Winnie’s dresses, “but, like, I don’t know, a simpler design? And longer?”

“Yeah. I could. What for?”

“My mom is making me run a charity auction next month. It’s for an ecological restoration project in Asia, except nobody knows what I fucking want for an auction theme.”

Winnie vaguely recalled yesterday how Helena had been complaining about something clothes related. “Is this dress for you?”

“Yes, but also for the staff and the girls who present the auction pieces. I’m trying to make an actually memorable affair instead of just another boring-ass cocktail party where everyone stands around doing nothing. This is going to be my first political appearance. I want it to be special.”

“But I don’t think you want kneesocks, do you?” asked Isabella.

Helena ignored her. “Are those the only colors your dresses come in?”

“No,” said Winnie. “Those are just the modeling samples. If you click on them, you can open the palette menu.”

“Show me.” Helena scooted toward Winnie, and Winnie did so. For the rest of lunch, Winnie and Helena talked about clothes. Isabella and Bridget had little to add to the conversation.

18. Blindfold

2055, September 7th
Collapse + 6 years

Winnie’s alarm chimed. It wasn’t her phone as she had used previous mornings, but a specialized alarm clock that slowly illuminated the ceiling of her room with a floodlight before chiming gently using real chimes instead of a speaker. It was one of many things a Series Five assembler could make from the assembler public library.

Back home, creating such a thing at the assembler station would have cost a hefty fee, especially given all the metal of the chimes. Here though, there was a whole closet full of matter packs which the staff restocked weekly, no charge. The assembler didn’t even needed them for most jobs. It was a Series 5 breather model. They got the bulk of their material from the air.

She wondered if she were allowed to mail items back home. People here would probably think it was silly, but metal supplies would go a long way for her mom.

As she sat up, she visualized her kitchen back home. Dark outside. Lights off.

Oh right. Time zones.

Today would be her first day at the International School of Porto Maná, but classes wouldn’t start for another hour. She was going to start her new life off properly.

A tank top, shorts, and a pair of running shoes later, she was outside in the breaking dawn. Birds had only begun chirping. A short jog brought her to the lake. A paved walking path circled it, passing manicured gardens and sectioned-off forest. This was certainly an improvement from the near-freezing roadsides she used to jog on. She checked her old path in her mind. No new snow, but the wind was vicious there. Here, the air was chilly and damp with dew, but just warm enough for short sleeves.

Winnie took out a strap of cloth and tied it around her eyes. This was the first of several exercises Victoria had given her: practice relying entirely on her flair to get around. Perhaps it was foolish to try this when jogging, but Victoria wanted Winnie to practice four hours every day, and she would know if Winnie was shirking practice. So unless Winnie wanted to walk around her first day of school with a blindfold, or read computer screens with her power, which felt like reading traffic signs without glasses, she’d have to squeeze in her four hours wherever else she could.

Besides, Winnie had practiced this yesterday. She’d stumbled constantly at first as she watched herself from a third person perspective, but then she learned the trick. She visualized exactly what her eyes would see, only she convinced her mind to ignore the blindfold that was in the way. It made sense. Just because she was visualizing from behind it didn’t mean she shouldn’t know what was beyond.

She was actually looking forward to her next session with the queen to show how she’d evolved. It was a big step toward breaking down that “floating camera” limitation the queen kept going on about.

Winnie began jogging. She encountered a few others, landscapers mostly. They stared openly after she passed, as though the blindfolded girl would be less likely to catch them gaping from behind her back. It made her smile. This was actually kind of cool. She was like a superhero, or a blind seer, more aware of her surroundings than those who could see. Maybe she could stylize her blindfold too, at least make it not press on her eyes so much.

Two men in a hover cart came by. They slowed as they passed. A burly man in the passenger seat looked her over. She might have taken offense, except they were clearly bodyguards. Both wore ear pieces.

Projecting behind her, she saw a trio of joggers approaching: two women with holstered weapons, and Princess Helena between them.

Winnie considered getting off the path. But then what? Hide in the bushes? The bodyguards would love that.

The point was moot, the princess had caught up enough to see Winnie. As they passed, Helena glanced at her, did a double take, then slowed to match pace.

Of course she would.

“You’re the new flair, right?”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

“Why are you blindfolded?”

“The queen wants me to practice using my projection to see, ma’am.”

“Can you see me right now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Even though you’re not even looking at me?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helena studied her. It was the same judgmental pat down she’d given Winnie at the security checkpoint.

“Huh,” said Helena. “Is that as fast as you can run?”

How pleasant.

“No, ma’am. I can run faster.”

“Good. Run with me.” Helena resumed her pace, and Winnie sped up to match. Was Winnie allowed to say no and let the princess run off? She doubted it.

“Are you going to the International School right?”

“I’m starting today, ma’am.”

“You can stop saying that, by the way.”

“What? Ma’am?”

“Yah. I got it already. It gets old.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’re not used to being around royalty, are you?”

“No. I’m from California.”

“Oh. The outer states? I thought those places were practically lawless.”

“No. We have law.”

“Did you even have schools there?”

“Yes. We have schools.”

“Weird. It must be trippy suddenly moving to the civilized world.”

“Yep.”

They ran on. Winnie grew winded, but she tried not to show it. It would give the princess another reason to look down on her. Hopefully Helena would grow bored soon and move on, but she didn’t. They kept running. And soon Winnie was panting.

“Do you need to slow down?” Helena asked. There was no mockery in her tone, but nor was there concern.

“No.” Winnie kept running. She checked ahead. There was a lot left to run.

“Yes,” she finally admitted.

Helena slowed. “Don’t feel bad. I’m pretty much in top shape for the basketball team. You’re not that bad. Did you do any sports back home?”

“I was on the cheerleading team.”

Cheerleading? I guess you are from North America. So you wave fluffy balls and cheer while other people play sports?”

“Our team doesn’t use pom-poms,” said Winnie, “and it’s harder than it looks.”

“I’m sure. Well, I’m afraid we don’t have a cheerleading team at our school. We don’t need one, but you’re definitely in better shape than some basketball players I can think of. You should try out. I’m the team captain, so I’ll make sure you get in.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll check it out, but I’ve never done sports before. It’s not really my thing.”

“You should totally do it. Our team really needs more people who actually try.”

So far, the toughest part of dealing with nobility was distinguishing between recommendations and veiled orders. Diplomacy was a skill Winnie would have to develop quickly. She was already taking orders from a very demanding queen. Putting herself on a basketball team where she would take orders from an equally demanding (and clearly bitchy) daughter would be too much.

“Yeah. I’ll totally check it out. Anyway, I think I need to take a break. I don’t want to hold you back.”

Winnie slowed to a walk.

Helena and her bodyguards slowed right along with her.

“You should find me at school. I’ll introduce you to my friends.” Helena pointed at Winnie’s face. “You’re not going to wear that blindfold to school, are you?”

“No.”

“Good.” A pause. “Although maybe you should. Your flair is cool. You should show it off. It gives you a mysterious, blind martial artist look.”

“Thanks.” If Winnie needed any more reason not to wear it to school, that cinched it.

“Well, I need to keep my pace up, so I’m going to run. What was your name again?”

“Winnie.”

“Okay. I’ll see you at school, Winnie.”

Helena ran ahead. Her guards followed.

Somehow, Winnie had the impression she’d just passed a test. She mentally tracked Helena and her guards until they were far ahead. Then she resumed running.

14. An exception

2055, September 5th
Collapse + 6 years

The elevator descended the side of the tower. The sun flickered against Winnie’s closed eyes as steel beams along the elevator shaft shot by. It wasn’t helping her headache.

“Six hours, hmm?” said Madeline.

Winnie tolerated opening her eyes to glance at her. “What?”

“When I escorted you to Her Majesty’s quarters at noon, I didn’t expect I’d have to tell the chefs to postpone dinner.”

Winnie shrugged. She wasn’t in any mood to talk, or do anything except maybe lie on her bed and surf the internet. Victoria had given her exercises to be done every night to practice, but Winnie had already decided that she’d skip them tonight.

She never would thought she’d get tired of using her flair. Now, the thought of projecting her mind caused her headache to swell. It was a mixed blessing. If Winnie’s brain hadn’t started hurting, she’d probably still be with Victoria, projecting her mind into the core of the sun or wherever.

Victoria was insatiable. Every question led to five more. Every experiment was repeated in every possible permutation. And Victoria wasn’t doing it just to be thorough. She wanted to. Every single answer or result absorbed into her like drops onto an endless sponge.

It’s not that Winnie didn’t want to expand her power. Left to her own devices, she would, but at her own pace. And she’d never think to ask even half the questions Victoria had.

Could she see in other spectrums of light? Like X-Rays? Victoria wanted to know. She explained that observing only on the visible light spectrum was a limitation of our eyes. Winnie needed to shake her belief that her flair was limited the same way. Victoria didn’t stop there either. She believed Winnie should be able to hear at any frequency, or at any volume.

The worst was the range-of-vision experiments. Victoria took her first crack at breaking Winnie of her “floating camera” point of view. It was another limitation just because Winnie was used to looking in one direction. That led to an hour of trying what Victoria referred to as omnidirectional viewing: looking in all directions from a single point. These tests marked the start of the headache.

As they finished up, Victoria talked about all manner of alien experiments: viewing a single object from all directions at once, seeing objects in a pocket as though the pocket were transparent, seeing multiple places at the same time, and visualizing people even if Winnie didn’t know where they were. This last one in particular excited Victoria.

Growing her power would become a chore.

The elevator stopped on the eighth floor—the security wing. This was as low as that elevator went. Madeline led Winnie to the checkpoint. Like her lessons, security would probably grow tiresome. When she arrived this morning, just as with her first visit, Winnie was subjected to a full scan, both physical and mental.

“Am I going to have to pass through security every time I come to the tower?” asked Winnie.

“I’m afraid so,” said Madeline. “You’ll get used to it. It’s faster than airport security.”

“But you don’t have to get your mind scanned at the airport.”

“Don’t worry. The exemplars are perfectly discreet.”

Something was happening at security. The guards had formed a boundary around the checkpoint, preventing anyone from coming or going.

Madeline sighed as a guard approached.

“I’m sorry. You need to stay back,” the guard said.

“Her?” asked Madeline.

“Yes,” said the guard. “She’s inbound now. Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Madeline led Winnie aside.

“What’s going on?” asked Winnie.

“Princess Helena is returning. They need to lock down security for her to pass through. Shouldn’t take long.”

Princess Helena. She must be Victoria’s daughter that Madeline had mentioned earlier. From the way Madeline said the name, she clearly thought Winnie already knew about her. Though Winnie had never even knew Victoria had a daughter before visiting here, nor did she know who the father was.

Security finished their preparations. Beyond the kiosks, guards ran about the garage bay checking everything over and escorting people away. Once clear, one guard signaled another, who popped his head into the screening rooms. Two exemplars came out, one whom Winnie recognized from her own scan this morning. They waited at attention along the side, their heads bowed.

It seemed this princess didn’t have to get scanned like everyone else.

If not for Victoria’s rules, Winnie would have projected into the garage bay to see what the holdup was. She was about to ask Madeline when a guard came from the garage bay and announced, “She’s landed.” Ah. So lockdown begins before this girl even returns. That explains it.

Soon, two casually-dressed men emerging from the garage bay hallway carrying enough shopping bags to hide their faces. They dropped them on a security counter, and a team of guards descended on them with detector wands and rubber gloves.

Another two men appeared. From their builds, they were body guards. Behind them came a young girl dressed in fur and leather. Her wild blonde curls were so flawlessly arranged that she must have had her hair styled today.

She looked down at a tablet as she walked, oblivious to those around her. At the security gate, guards opened a walkway around the detectors, but the girl stopped by the guards searching her bags.

“Make sure these bags are delivered to my sitting room.”

“Yes, Your Highness,” replied a guard, but she was already walking on.

The princess approached the elevators, where Winnie and Madeline waited. Winnie raced through her etiquette knowledge. The guard called her “Your Highness”. Got it. But what else? She’d forgotten to ask Madeline about it since Victoria corrected her earlier, and something about this girl told Winnie she wouldn’t be as forgiving.

Madeline curtsied. “Good evening, Your Highness. I hope your shopping trip went well.”

“It sucked.” Helena nodded toward the elevator, and Madeline pressed the call button. “Every designer in this city is bullshit. Seven people just showed me seven versions of the same dress.”

“Perhaps we could contact designers from out of state. I’m sure there are some in North America who could help.”

Helena heaved a sigh. “Why bother? As if they’d do any better. We should just put the attendants in flat dresses and stop caring. I don’t see why I should if nobody else does.”

“Of course, ma’am.”

“No. Call them anyway. Might as well.”

“Of course.”

“And make sure they keep my shuttle ready. I’m going back out after dinner.”

“Certainly. Your dinner has been prepared in the owl room.”

The elevator door opened. Helena didn’t get in. “Why isn’t it in the main hall?”

“The queen is meeting with the the Chinese ambassador right now.”

“What the fuck? She told me to be back by six.”

“I’m afraid your mother’s schedule got pushed back today.”

“And nobody decided to tell me this? I wouldn’t have bothered coming back.”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. Your mother only just informed me.”

“What the hell has she been doing all day?”

“She was… in other meetings.”

“She was meeting the new flair today, wasn’t she?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Helena’s narrowed gaze turned to Winnie. “Is this her?”

Madeline hesitated. “Yes, ma’am. This is Cho Eun-Yeong.”

“Hello, Your Highness.” Winnie curtsied just as Madeline had.

Helena scrutinized her. When the elevator began closing, she held down the call button to keep it open. Her gaze scoured over Winnie’s clothes and body.

“What’s your power?”

Was that that how everyone was going to greet her from now on? “I can project my senses to wherever I want, ma’am.”

“Oh right.” Helena tilted her head. “Are you staying in the dorm with the other kids?”

Other kids? From the look of it, Helena was the same age as Winnie. Who was she calling kid?

“Yes, ma’am.”

The elevator beeped frantically.

“Oh fine.” Helena entered the elevator and released the button. “Keep my shuttle ready,” she yelled.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And you,” Helena looked at Winnie. “Don’t dare spy on me.”

The door closed.

“Well,” said Madeline. “Now you’ve met Princess Helena.”

“Is she always like that?”

Madeline smiled thinly. “We can get moving now.”