“My home is where you are,” I murmur.
Her expression softens, and she leans against me, her body warm. It feels, as always, right.
“Come home soon, then,” she whispers back.
When the AIS sends for us, they call for us both. Eden and me. We find ourselves standing in the center of a circle on the top floor of the AIS headquarters, surrounded by an arc of politicians and agency directors.
It’s not just the AIS we’re answering to. It’s the President and his council as well. The whole thing looks like a goddy trial.
Beside me, Eden is calm, his face steady and chin up. I look for signs of his usual anxieties—his hands wringing, his jaw tight, his back stiff. But he’s not doing any of that today.
President Ikari frowns at our calm state. He leans forward on his elevated dais and weaves his fingers together. His eyes fix on me. “Four days ago, the man known as Dominic Hann corrupted the Level system and led a riot that left Ross City on fire and in ruins. As I understand from what Director Min has told me, you and your brother acted on your own discretion to stop what he was doing. Is this all correct?”
Eden nods. “Yes, sir.”
“Yes, sir,” I echo him.
President Ikari frowns. “I’ve been informed, however, that instead of restoring the Level system to what it once was, you’ve altered other parts of the system to suit yourself. Have you done this, Mr. Daniel Altan Wing?”
“It was me, sir,” Eden speaks up first. “I implemented the new system when I deleted Dominic Hann’s hack.”
Everyone shifts in their chairs. A chorus of murmurs fills thechamber. I glance quickly to where Director Min is sitting. She nods quietly at us to continue. Whether or not she’ll stand up for us, I’m still not sure, but I return an imperceptible nod to her and look back at the President.
President Ikari sighs. “And why would you do such a thing?” he says.
Eden hesitates. In the silence, I take over.
“Because sometimes, sir, the only way to make your government listen is to force them to,” I say.
There’s another round of whispers and gasps. I’m reminded of the Republic’s Senate, of when June had once been so unhappy trying to maneuver through their ranks. It’s a special kind of hell, speaking frankly in a system that doesn’t reward honesty at all.
“With all due respect, President Ikari,” I go on, “I know what it’s like to live in a place where people have no choices. What happens in a world like that, when you’re unable to speak out against something you think is wrong?”
Ikari frowns at me. “Are you trying to compare Antarctica to the Republic of America, Mr. Wing?”
I hold my hands up. “I know how different the two are. But the Republic was founded on a system of fear. People allowed the first Elector to come to power because they were afraid of everything and everyone else. They turned in on themselves, closed their borders, and gave up their freedoms in exchange for security. And then, one day, we woke up realizing that we’d handed over so much that we’d given ourselves up too. I know what that feels like all too well. It’s part of the reason why we left the Republic to come here in the first place.”
I’m not sure if my words are sinking in with the council, but hearing what the Republic did wrong seems to make them sit upstraighter. As if they know that their country is better. The President studies me for a moment, then nods at Eden. “You’re the top student of Ross City. Why don’t you tell us your thinking behind all this, and whether or not you align with your brother?”
I think of the way Eden always left early for university in the mornings—with that tense look on his face, bracing himself for another difficult day. But he doesn’t hesitate now. He just looks the President square in the eye and answers.
“Antarctica was founded on the principle of innovation. Wasn’t it?” He looks around at the council, and to my satisfaction, they look happy with his words. Eden knows how to play this game, too. “I learned it when I came here for school. You teach it to all your citizens. This country was built on the idea of progress and experimentation. All of this—the Levels, the biodome—came from young people who created big, bold, new things that took the world by storm. So many came here in the hopes that this would be where they could find the freedom to be who they wanted to be. They flocked to this unknown, barren land because they were excited by what it could become. They were dazzled by the brilliant and the frightening, the technology that was changing things day by day here. That’s how Antarctica became what it is today. It’s still so young, barely a country, and yet it holds so much power.”
He shakes his head and points out at the windows, where the glass separates us from the sky beyond. “This isn’t the Antarctica of the past anymore. Ross City no longer rewards the very principles it was founded on. It’s a place where people are forced to conform to what this council thinks is right or wrong. They can’t speak up about their frustrations and hardships. The Level systemwas supposed to be a system that encouraged good behavior and success. Now it’s just a system that holds half of the city’s population back. There’s no hope for people in the Undercity. How can there be?”
“So you took it upon yourself to change what you thought was wrong.” The President narrows his eyes at my brother.
Eden takes a deep breath. “So I made some adjustments,” he says with a slight shrug. In that gesture, I recognize a glimmer of myself. “Isn’t that how all change happens? Someone just has to do it first?”
The head of the police unit snorts at his words and looks at the President. “The boy put in a stop to Levels deducted for rioting against the government. There’s already a march scheduled for dawn tomorrow. They halted points associated with health care and welfare. They’ve altered points deducted for crimes.”
“For crimes of what?” Eden interrupts. “Not having a home? Taking away their Levels if they can’t afford something? Let people protest without punishment. Let them have a chance to help their families. Let people struggling in the lowest floors of the city know that you still care about them, too.”
The President’s stare on Eden is ice-cold. “What you’ve done is the height of arrogance, boy.”
“Maybe.” He steps forward this time. “But it’s because I care. Because, sometimes, being patriotic means calling out the problems rotting away your country. I’m not saying we don’t want to work with you. But we represent millions of voices you’re not hearing right now. If you want to preserve the spirit of what madeAntarctica a world leader to begin with, you should take a look at your blind spots.”
Murmurs rumble among the council members. I look over to Eden. He’s pale, and frightened, but he stands his ground with his fists clenched at his sides, and all I can think about is the memory that comes to me now—the moment he had volunteered himself, without hesitation, to help the Republic find a cure for the plague. I think of the determined light in his eyes, the resolve he’d had to save a country that had taken everything from him. I think of his plans now for the Republic, his architectural suggestions for what to do with the old Trial stadiums and the old military halls.
