fine, but could you get Mads some water?”
“I’ll get some for you, too.” He slid his hand gently across her shoulder, then walked back to the kitchen.
Xochi looked at Madison, then at Kira. She said nothing, but turned to the stereo. “I think we need something a little more laid-back.” The music hub was a small panel on a shelf along the wall, connected wirelessly to a series of speakers around the room. The center of the panel held a small dock for a digital music player, which Xochi unplugged and dropped into a basket. “Any requests?”
Madison smiled. “Laid-back sounds nice.”
“Use Athena,” said Kira, standing up to help. “I always like Athena.” She and Xochi sifted through the basket—a wide wicker thing filled with slim silver bricks. Most of them were monogrammed: TO CATELYN, FROM DADDY. TO CHRISTOPH: HAPPY BIRTHDAY . Even the ones without monograms bore some kind of identifying mark: a plastic cover with a picture or pattern; an image etched into the back; a small charm dangling from the corner. They were more than receptacles for music, they were records of a personality—an actual person, their likes and dislikes, their tastes and inner thoughts reflected in their playlists. Xochi had spent years scavenging the players from the rubble, and she and Kira would lie on the floor for hours on end, listening to each player and imagining what its owner must have been like. TO KATHERINE ON HER GRADUATION was full of country music, cheerful and twangy and wearing its heart on its sleeve. JIMMY OLSEN listened to everything, from ancient chants to orchestral symphonies to thrashing rock and metal. Kira found her favorite almost at the bottom, ATHENA , MY ANGEL , and plugged it into the dock. A few seconds later the first song started, soft and driving at once, a subtle wall of electronic waves and dissonant guitars and intimate, throaty vocals. It was calming and comfortable and sad all at once, and it fit Kira’s mood perfectly. She closed her eyes and smiled. “I think I would have liked Athena. Whoever she was.”
Marcus returned with the water, and a moment later Haru came in from the back porch. His face was solemn, but he seemed calmer, and he nodded politely to Xochi. “This smells delicious. Thank you for making it.”
“My pleasure.”
Kira glanced quickly around. “Are we waiting for anyone?”
Madison shook her head. “I tried to talk to Ariel, but she’s still not talking to me. And Isolde’s going to be late, and said to start without her—there’s something big at the Senate, and Hobb’s keeping her longer.”
“Lucky girl,” said Xochi. She passed out plates and forks, and they paused before digging into the food.
“Happy Rebuilding Day,” said Marcus. He raised his glass of water, and the others did the same; the glasses were perfectly matched, crystal goblets salvaged from a huge estate outside of town, and the water inside was boiled and fresh, tinged slightly yellow from the chemicals in Nandita’s purifier.
“The old world ended,” said Madison, intoning the familiar words, “but the new one is only beginning.”
“We will never forget the past,” said Haru, “and we will never forsake the future.”
Xochi raised her chin, holding her head high. “Life comes from death, and weakness teaches us strength.”
“Nothing can defeat us,” said Kira. “We can do anything.” She paused, then added softly, “We will do everything.”
They drank, and for a moment all was silent but the music, soft and haunting in the background. Kira swallowed the water in slow gulps, sloshing it thoughtfully in her mouth, tasting the chemical tang. She rarely even noticed it anymore, but it was there, sharp and bitter. She thought about Madison and Haru, and about their baby, perfect and innocent and doomed. She thought about Gianna, and Mkele, and the explosion and the Voice and the Senate and everything else, the entire world, the future and the past. I’m not
“I’ll get some for you, too.” He slid his hand gently across her shoulder, then walked back to the kitchen.
Xochi looked at Madison, then at Kira. She said nothing, but turned to the stereo. “I think we need something a little more laid-back.” The music hub was a small panel on a shelf along the wall, connected wirelessly to a series of speakers around the room. The center of the panel held a small dock for a digital music player, which Xochi unplugged and dropped into a basket. “Any requests?”
Madison smiled. “Laid-back sounds nice.”
“Use Athena,” said Kira, standing up to help. “I always like Athena.” She and Xochi sifted through the basket—a wide wicker thing filled with slim silver bricks. Most of them were monogrammed: TO CATELYN, FROM DADDY. TO CHRISTOPH: HAPPY BIRTHDAY . Even the ones without monograms bore some kind of identifying mark: a plastic cover with a picture or pattern; an image etched into the back; a small charm dangling from the corner. They were more than receptacles for music, they were records of a personality—an actual person, their likes and dislikes, their tastes and inner thoughts reflected in their playlists. Xochi had spent years scavenging the players from the rubble, and she and Kira would lie on the floor for hours on end, listening to each player and imagining what its owner must have been like. TO KATHERINE ON HER GRADUATION was full of country music, cheerful and twangy and wearing its heart on its sleeve. JIMMY OLSEN listened to everything, from ancient chants to orchestral symphonies to thrashing rock and metal. Kira found her favorite almost at the bottom, ATHENA , MY ANGEL , and plugged it into the dock. A few seconds later the first song started, soft and driving at once, a subtle wall of electronic waves and dissonant guitars and intimate, throaty vocals. It was calming and comfortable and sad all at once, and it fit Kira’s mood perfectly. She closed her eyes and smiled. “I think I would have liked Athena. Whoever she was.”
Marcus returned with the water, and a moment later Haru came in from the back porch. His face was solemn, but he seemed calmer, and he nodded politely to Xochi. “This smells delicious. Thank you for making it.”
“My pleasure.”
Kira glanced quickly around. “Are we waiting for anyone?”
Madison shook her head. “I tried to talk to Ariel, but she’s still not talking to me. And Isolde’s going to be late, and said to start without her—there’s something big at the Senate, and Hobb’s keeping her longer.”
“Lucky girl,” said Xochi. She passed out plates and forks, and they paused before digging into the food.
“Happy Rebuilding Day,” said Marcus. He raised his glass of water, and the others did the same; the glasses were perfectly matched, crystal goblets salvaged from a huge estate outside of town, and the water inside was boiled and fresh, tinged slightly yellow from the chemicals in Nandita’s purifier.
“The old world ended,” said Madison, intoning the familiar words, “but the new one is only beginning.”
“We will never forget the past,” said Haru, “and we will never forsake the future.”
Xochi raised her chin, holding her head high. “Life comes from death, and weakness teaches us strength.”
“Nothing can defeat us,” said Kira. “We can do anything.” She paused, then added softly, “We will do everything.”
They drank, and for a moment all was silent but the music, soft and haunting in the background. Kira swallowed the water in slow gulps, sloshing it thoughtfully in her mouth, tasting the chemical tang. She rarely even noticed it anymore, but it was there, sharp and bitter. She thought about Madison and Haru, and about their baby, perfect and innocent and doomed. She thought about Gianna, and Mkele, and the explosion and the Voice and the Senate and everything else, the entire world, the future and the past. I’m not
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