Office of Mercy (9781101606100) by Ariel Djanikian Page A

not blame on the biosuit.
    They were ready now. They gathered at the far end of the storehouse. Sunlight leaked in from beyond the door, interrupted by two rusty hinges. A spider with white markings scuttled above the knob and disappeared into the shadows. There was no genetic code reader here, only a series of deadbolts. Douglas opened the door.
    Four sun-drenched steps led up to a verdant shock of grass. The trees towered in a ring beyond, ancient, intricate, and majestic, their sharp tops pointing to the bright blue infinity of the sky, the white puffs of cloud and the too-powerful, blinding sun: the universe. They climbed the steps. Natasha ran her hand along the sunken, moss-covered stone wall at her side. She felt slightly dizzy, as if the first strong gust of air might scoop her up and carry her off the curve of the planet. Was gravity really enough to secure one’s feet to the earth? No walls, she thought. No walls to hold them in. She climbed the last step, following Jeffrey, Douglas, and Alejandra onto the circle of short grass that surrounded the settlement. She squinted against the light; it was too bright, it hurt her head. Colors exploded before her eyes: not only the blue but the deep green of the pine needles and the rippling green-yellow-white of the leaves, the textured browns of bark and the outlines of the dark, inscrutable shadows pocketing the woods before them.
    â€œTeam out,” said Douglas, over the comm-link.
    â€œWhat do you think?” Jeffrey asked.
    Instead of looking around at the forest and sky like the rest of the team, his squinting, smiling eyes were on her, as if he cared more about Natasha’s reaction to the Outside than about the whole Outside itself. Though of course, Natasha thought, this wasn’t his first mission.
    â€œIt’s—” she started to say.
    Before she could finish, she caught sight of them: black and soaring from above. Novas, she thought, adrenaline rushing through her body. But then she heard them caw.
    Jeffrey was laughing. “Crows,” he said. “It’s only crows. Eric?”
    Eric removed his arms slowly from over his head, looking abashed.
    The birds swooped up, changing direction, but gracefully, as if without effort. Their black wings shone in the sun. They cawed.
    â€œIt’s amazing,” Natasha said, laughing with Jeffrey, watching the birds disappear to specks.
    Truly, the Pretends did not do the Outside justice. Now that Natasha was seeing it with her own eyes, the simulations became in retrospect like block-color outlines of the real objects they aimed to represent. In the Pretends, the grass was green, yes, but it had no definition, the blades did not distinguish themselves as they did in real life; the simulations had not captured the variation, the scattered patches of yellow, or the matted spots where, as Alejandra said, either deer or wild pigs had rested. Natasha leaned down and ran her gloved hand over the grass, feeling its soft resistance; she picked up a leaf and looked at it closely. The pale skeleton on its underside was blemished by disease, and yet it was beautiful in its imperfection. She looked again at the random growth of the woods. She thought it was wonderful. She could have stared at the same spot for hours and not comprehended the whole of it—so detailed and intricate and unique was every square inch of the Outside.
    But their time for enjoying the green was soon over; they had to get moving. One by one, the team passed into the trees.
    â€œAbandon all hope,” Jeffrey said, as he stooped below a pine branch, “ye who enter here.”
    â€œWhat’s that supposed to mean?” Eric asked, hesitating at the edge of the lawn.
    â€œIt’s just an old quote from the Archives,” Alejandra assured him, nudging Eric’s shoulder. “He’s joking.”
    Natasha looked back at the settlement. The sunken metal, joined boxes of the wings were such dull,