Alternity (9 page)

I suppress a shudder. This all sounds way too real for comfort.

“So, using their foresight, they bought up large quantities of useless desert and constructed secret underground cities like Luna Park, cave by cave. By the time the war inevitably hit, they were ready and able to welcome the refugees below. They took in people from around the world like a Noah’s Ark, trying to preserve as many ethnicities as possible.”

I think back to the Asian proprietor at Moongazer Palace, and the wide variety of people wandering around Luna Park. They’d definitely done a good job preserving diversity. I liked that.

“So, the Circle of Eight saved the people,” Senator Duske continues. “And you’d think the people would be grateful for their salvation. But sadly, this has not proven to be the case. While some of the people acclimated quickly to their new world—finding jobs, buying homes, raising families—others became depressed and angry, refusing to work to better their society They began preaching that it was the Circle’s fault that they were poor and helpless. They wanted handouts—and didn’t think they should have to work for their bread. They began to convince people that the great and glorious government who’d saved them was actually brutally exploiting and controlling them.” Duske shakes his head, a disgusted look on his face. “In reality, nothing could be further from the truth.”

I’m so fascinated by his tale I scarcely notice that the waiter has returned with our food. He pulls the silver cover off my plate, revealing multicolored ravioli that smells of cinnamon. He places a similar plate in front of Duske, then passes him a small black handheld machine. Duske presses his thumb against the sensor and the machine beeps and flashes green. Evidently it’s some high-tech payment option, just like the locks on the doors. Thumbs sure are useful in Terra. I wonder if I have any credit on mine …

“My apologies for the dinner,” Duske says, picking up a pair of chopsticks. “I know on Earth you dine mostly on meat and fowl. Here in Terra we have very limited access to animals. The war eliminated most species altogether, and the ones that were saved and brought underground proved sterile. We’ve been working in labs to clone what we have to increase the population, but the clones are not able to reproduce either. So every animal is precious and protected.”

I feel a renewed sense of sadness at his words. Never mind the sun—a world without animals seems unlivable. No dogs to greet you with slobbery kisses. No cats to rub up against your leg with a purr.

“Well, don’t worry about the meat thing,” I assure him. “I’m a vegetarian anyway.”

“Of course you are, my dear,” Duske says with an odd smile. “And I trust you will enjoy this meal.”

I take a bite, savoring the smooth creamy taste and its subtle kick of spice. “It’s delicious,” I say, surprised and delighted. “In fact, it tastes just like the kind they serve up at ArtePasta in the Village.” I laugh. “Like, exactly. So strange.” I take another bite.

“Perhaps Earth and Terra aren’t so different after all,” Duske comments, taking his own bite.

“Well, I definitely agree with you there. In fact, it’s actually pretty crazy,” I remark, my mouth full of food. “I mean, we speak the same language. Share the same pop culture. You even have a Starbucks, for goodness’ sake.”

“Indeed,” Duske says. He refills his tumbler and downs the shot. “Which is why we felt your Earth is such a good fit for our people.”

“A good fit? What do you mean?”

Duske takes another bite, chews, then swallows. “Terra, as much as we’ve tried to make it a self-sustaining, viable world, is overcrowded. It has huge shortcomings. We can’t make enough food. We can’t breed animals. We’ve lost a great deal of aesthetic beauty because of limited access to trees. There are some surface logging companies that risk the radiation to supply us with wood, but there’s never enough.”

“Okay …”

“So, a few years ago, the government came up with a plan to export our people to a more inhabitable world—a world that can support them and give them a comfortable and familiar lifestyle. Even better, it’s a life aboveground, where they can dance under the moonlight each and every night without worrying about becoming sick.”

He sounds like one of the advertisements. “You mean Moongazing,” I conclude. So I was right.

Duske nods. “Well, the technical term is interdimensional relocation. We decided to brand it Moongazing. More commercially appealing, we feel. Gives it an almost lyrical feel, don’t you agree?”

“Is it—” I remember Dawn’s story about Mariah. “Is it … dangerous?” I hold my breath, hoping my question isn’t offensive.

But Duske only chuckles heartily. “Not at all,” he says. “It’s quite safe. We did a great deal of research and testing before we introduced it to the public.” He pauses, then adds, “Why do you ask?”

I shrug. “Dawn seemed to think so. He said all this stuff about me being addicted to some kind of Moongazing drug. And that my memories were implanted and my friends and family weren’t real.”

This time Duske full-on laughs, long and hard, shaking his head. “He is just too much,” he says. “How did you even keep a straight face when he was spouting off such nonsense?”

I frown, not finding it quite so funny. “He was so convinced I was this girl named Mariah. And then I saw a picture of her in his apartment. We look identical.”

“Mariah Quinn,” Duske says knowingly. “Daughter of Sister Estelle, a retired member of our Senate and Circle of Eight. She was in training to join our ranks and become a member of the Senate until she got … distracted.”

“Distracted?”

Duske rolls his eyes. “She started socializing with the wrong crowd, a group of rebellious and bored Indys who liked to cause trouble. They brainwashed her into thinking that the Circle was somehow the enemy, and so she abandoned her training and moved down to Stratum Two to start up some silly group she called the Eclipsers with her little Indy rebel friends.”

I lean forward, fascinated. And here I had assumed Mariah was just another one of the Dark Siders, unhappy with her lot in life. But it turns out she was of royal blood, in a sense. One of the of Illustrious Eight. I wonder what led her to make that choice—to give up everything she’d been born to inherit—trade in her life of luxury—to help the downtrodden down below. Pretty admirable.

“So, what happened to her?”

Duske shrugs. “She played her little revolution thing for a time, but then realized how silly it actually was. She started Moongazing like all her friends and realized that making a new life on Earth was a lot more rewarding than fighting some silly, unnecessary rebellion here on Terra. And so, in the end, she decided to purchase a permanent migration package. Last I heard she’s living quite happily on Earth.”

“But the Eclipsers couldn’t accept her migration,” I conclude, my admiration diminishing. Poor Dawn. No wonder he felt so betrayed by her. “They want her back.”

“Right,” Duske says. “Poor bastards. They’ve been searching for her on Earth ever since, trying to get her to come home and continue leading their impotent revolution. It was damn lucky I rescued you before they could poison your mind and convince you that you were her.”

“Yeah,” I agree absently. “Lucky …”

“I’m not going to lie. You look a hell of a lot like Mariah,” Duske adds. “Which is probably why they think you’re her. I can actually see similar mannerisms in you, too. But trust me, Skye Brown. You are not Mariah Quinn.”

I nod. Right. Of course he’s right. It only makes sense. Dawn, Glenda, the Eclipsers. They made a mistake. A simple mistake.

“So now what?” I ask. “How do I get back to Earth?” Under the table I cross my fingers, my mind begging any higher power who might be listening to offer up a simple way for me to return home.

“Easy,” Duske says. “You use one of my private ‘Gazing booths at the house. A whiff of your asthma medication and the press of a button and poof—you’re back on Earth.”

I cock my head in confusion. “Why my asthma medication?” I ask, remembering Dawn denouncing the stuff. What was the connection between the two?

But Duske only smiles reassuringly. “Sometimes the journey can be rough. I’d want to make sure you don’t have an attack en route.”

Something feels odd about his manner, but I’m afraid questioning him too much might cause him to revoke his invitation.
None of the rest matters
, I remind myself.
I just need to get home.
“Okay. Whatever it takes, I suppose,” I say, setting down my chopsticks. “Can we go now? I don’t mean to be rude, but I’m anxious to get back.”

“Understandable. But first, I wonder if I might ask you a favor.”

“Uh, sure. I guess,” I say, wondering what on earth I could possibly do for him.

Duske clears his throat before speaking. “You think of Terra much the same way Terrans think of Earth. You’re here, living, breathing, and experiencing it all, but at the same time, I can tell that you don’t quite believe it’s all real,” he says. “Well, imagine the Terrans. They’ve never even seen Earth, and many are afraid. Afraid of the unknown. Afraid of what might happen if they Moongaze. Their fear is holding them back, trapping them here on our dead world when they could be living fulfilling, happy lives on Earth.”

“O-kay. So what does that have to do with me?”

“In a way, the Eclipsers did me a tremendous favor by bringing you here. You’re the first Earth person to ever set foot in Terra. Almost as if you’ve come as an ambassador for your world.” He smiles again. “What I am humbly asking of you is this. That you continue in that role awhile longer. I’m holding a Moongazing seminar this weekend. I’d like you to attend. In the meantime, you can go back to Earth and take some photos for me. Animals, sunshine, grass, trees. Photograph them all and return to Terra to speak to my people at the convention. Tell them what Earth is really like. How wonderful it would be to live there.”

“You want me to take photos? And then come back?” I stare at him, incredulous. This was definitely not the favor I had in mind.

“Yes.” He nods. “Together you and I can prove to the people of my world that Moongazing is not just some field trip from reality, but a doorway to a new and better existence.”

He says the last part so grandly that I assume it’s part of his sales pitch. Is he profiting off this, I suddenly wonder. Is he an alternate-reality travel agent, if you will?

“Why can’t you just get the photos yourself?” I ask. “I’ve seen the TV commercials. Obviously you have stock footage of the place. Why do you need me?”

He shrugs dismissively. “I could take pictures, yes, but the people don’t see me as an objective source. To have someone who’s actually from Earth—well, that’s another thing altogether. You can go beyond the tourist brochure. Tell them what it’s really like to live there.”

“Right.” I see what he’s saying. But at the same time … “Look, I’d love to help,” I say cautiously. “But I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. Midterms are coming up and the video game I’ve been helping test launches in a few weeks. I really don’t know if I have time to play travel agent.”

I try to make my voice light and apologetic, but Duske’s face darkens at my words, his mouth twisting into a sinister frown.

“Listen to me carefully,” he says in a slow, tight voice. Gone is the honey-sweet sales pitch. “I need those photos. And I need you to get them for me. There is no one else.”

I swallow hard. “But—”

“If you do not get me my photos within two days,” he continues in a terse tone, “though I am a very busy man I will make the time to yank you back to Terra myself. And trust me, it will
not
be to take you to dinner.”

I stare at him in disbelief, my heart now thudding in my chest. A moment ago he seemed so debonair. So rational and reasonable. I can’t believe he’s threatening me. And I’m completely helpless—if I don’t do what he says, I’ll be stuck here forever.

My throat closes up and I wheeze, trying to take a breath. I reach into my pocket for my inhaler. I can feel Duske’s eager eyes on me as I put it to my mouth and take a puff. I pull the inhaler away, disturbed by his reaction, remembering Glenda’s warning, Dawn’s warning.

“Are you ready to go back to Earth?” Duske asks, suddenly back to his pleasant self.

I should be. I should be more than ready. So why am I suddenly so hesitant?

“Um, yes, I guess I am,” I say, shaking the doubt away. Do I really want to be here another moment? No, of course not. I want to go home and forget all of this ever happened.

Duske rises from his seat and I follow him out of the restaurant. As we walk down the dimly lit path and to the awaiting car, a man suddenly jumps out from behind a rock sculpture, blocking our path. His eyes are rimmed in black bruises and his mouth’s hanging open sideways. He looks utterly insane.

“Don’t look into the moon!” he cries, waving a placard on a stick. “It’ll destroy your life—your very soul!”

Startled, I take a step back, not sure what he’s going to do next. My eyes lift to the placard. MOONGAZING FTL it reads. I know that in geek speak (at least back on Earth) that acronym stands for “For the Loss”—a video game term that stood for something bad, terrible, and shouldn’t be touched with a ten-foot pole.

Nervous, I glance over at Duske. He’s talking into some kind of communication device strapped to his wrist. Obviously, he’s summoning the cavalry.

“I’m not crazy,” the man continues, grabbing my hand and staring at me beseechingly. “I’m an Indy, just like you. I had a job, a family, a life. Moongazing stole it all from me. I barely made it out alive. Whatever you do, don’t look into the moon!”

Before I can react, three silver-clad soldiers appear, dragging the man backward. He screams in rage, trying to fight, but they quickly overpower him, stunning him with some kind of crimson-beamed taser.

Like the one in your dream
, an inner voice reminds me. I shudder.

“Sorry about that,” Duske says, putting an arm around my waist and leading me down the path. “As you can see, like any new program, we have our detractors.”

I realize I’m still trembling from the encounter. I glance back at the man. He’s now spread-eagle on the ground, sobbing hysterically. Could what he said have any truth to it? Was he a victim of Moongazing just like Mariah was?