2-Neela
~Two years earlier. ~
I stretch slowly and open one eye. Today is the 40th day of Adrastee, which means it's my big brother Kiran’s birthday. It’s also the first day of fall. If I want to have any decent options among the available groceries, I need to get to the market early.
I toss off my thermal blanket and head toward the east wall. Placing my hand on the wake-up icon, I set the opacity of the partitions to 50%. Instantly, a gentle light floods my living unit. I can feel the sun’s presence just from the golden tones filtering through the roof and walls.
I make my way to the small bathroom. Like everything else here, it’s simple and efficient. I slip off my nightshirt and step into the shower, which won’t last more than three minutes—water is precious and wasting it is forbidden.
After my shower, I brush my teeth, comb my long black hair, and braid it into a basic plait. A quick glance in the mirror tells me I’m good to go.
Back in my bedroom, I pull on thermal pants, a thick sweater, and waterproof socks—the most important item of all!
When you live on the northern edge of Cydonia, like I do, snow is practically permanent. And if your feet get wet, you can get sick fast. That’s why Inevergo out without my waterproof socks. Kiran says I’m delicate, but he conveniently forgets all thetimes I had to nurse him back to health because he didn’t bundle up enough before heading outside.
I move from my room into my living space. It has a small kitchen—basic but functional—and a sitting area with a couch, a table, and four chairs. Kiran and Meghan, my best friend, have the same layout in their unit, even though there are two of them living there. The policy in Cydonia is strict: no waste allowed. You get the space you need—no more, no less.
I also have a hydroponic greenhouse wrapped around three sides of my house, forming a bright, plant-filled corridor. It lines the east, north, and west walls and is where we grow small-scale produce for daily use. For anything else—mainly processed products—you have to go to the market.
Before heading out, I make myself an herbal infusion and nibble on a nutrient biscuit.
My bracelet tells me I’ve consumed 167 calories: 14 grams of carbs, 8 grams of fat, 1 gram of fiber, and 10 grams of protein. The infusion added 11 ounces of water to my intake. Throughout the day, it’ll track everything I eat and drink, making sure my nutrition is balanced, sufficient, and—above all—not excessive. After years of this routine, you hardly notice anymore.
Finished with my snack, I slip on a heavy jacket and snow boots. I dematerialize the front door and step out confidently.
A sharp chill hits me instantly, triggering a reflex tear response to protect my corneas. Nothing serious. I notice a thick blanket of powdery snow fell overnight, but the solar panels on the house and the shelter over my vehicle are equipped with auto-defrost. No risk of a mid-trip breakdown. I lower my visor and climb onto my snowbike parked just a few steps away.
Off to downtown Cydonia!
The ride is smooth. I even spot two elk and a snow fox on the way. With an easterly wind below 10 mph, I’d call the weatherfairly mild this morning. When you’re caught in those swirling squalls with barely any visibility, that’s a whole different story. And of course, patients calling in emergencies couldn’t care less about the conditions.
Take Giselle, for example—my closest neighbor, a full five minutes away by snowbike. She’s a chronic hypochondriac. Nine times out of ten, I show up for nothing. Then again, not really “nothing”—at least I ease her mind. She’s not young anymore, so I let it slide.
But I’m getting sidetracked!
As I near the heart of the village, I pass my work unit—the one I staff every other week to care for folks with minor ailments. For major procedures, people have to go to the Central Medical Facility in the capital.
The market I’m headed to is just a few hundred yards beyond that.
I drive up the main road, passing all sorts of living units—different sizes, depending on family structure. Most people choose to stay close together here in the valley. I guess it reassures them.
Me? I opted for a more isolated unit up in the mountains.
Kiran and Meghan did too, along with a handful of others scattered along the foothills. But the majority are right here, in central Cydonia.
I park my snowbike at the market, pushing it under the energy-charging station. Two others are already docked.
I step up to the entrance, and a motion sensor instantly dematerializes the door to let me in.
Inside, the walls have been mostly cleared to let in as much sunlight as possible. In the back, I can see the massive production farm—really just a giant, fully robotic hydroponic warehouse linked to a processing unit. We only have access tothe front area, where ripe, ready-to-eat produce is sorted into bins.
I spot Marjorie and Gorka—close associates of Vassili Porkoff—at the far end of the console, near the berry section. My lips purse with irritation before I can stop myself.
Vassili is the “Regent” of Cydonia. Apparently, he was originally appointed manager, replacing the previous one who died of a heart attack. The manager’s role is to ensure that the Pact is upheld and that everyone integrates smoothly into our colony on this planet. The story goes that someone accidentally called him “Regent” instead of “Manager” and the name stuck—some say because he liked the sound of it better.
To my dismay, I quickly realize Marjorie and Gorka are cleaning out the entire berry stock. The very berries I was counting on for the charlotte I wanted to make for Kiran’s birthday!
“Good morning, Marjorie. Morning, Gorka,” I say, nodding as I approach the Regent’s advisors. “I hope everything’s well at the Palace!”
