One day before the Selection

Rea has been exceptionally talkative the moment I put on the earpieces in the morning.

As I prepare my pre-packaged breakfast meal, I let Rea drone on about the potential infection I could've gotten on Ground Earth and the radiation I could've been exposed to in certain areas.

"Under Code 1-5-A through 1-7-C, these infections and contaminations would have prevented your entry into the Tower."

"But I made it back, didn't I?" I mumble.

Rea ignores my comment and proceeds to describe the Tower's examination process to detect infections and known mutations. So that explains what I went through yesterday. My thoughts were too muddled to grasp what was happening to me.

Breakfast is a bland mix of protein powders and meal powders in water. It's dense, fills my stomach, and has all the necessary nutrients carefully portioned.

I miss Devon's pancakes.

After finishing the disappointing smoothie, I lie on my bed and stare up at the ceiling. The white is hurting my eyes. I close them.

My mind spirals like it did all night. I'm not from the Tower. The only place I know is home... is not where I'm from. My life is a lie.

Everything I know is a lie.

The door to my living unit slides open. I sit up, annoyed by Rea's lack of warning, but my jaw drops at the sight of my visitor.

General Caelum stands in front of me. It's strange to see someone of her rank inside a cramped unit that is probably one-fifth the size of just her living room.

"G- General?" I jump off my bed. "Good mor—"

My greeting is cut off by a sharp slap to my face.

Pain pounds in my skull. I blink my tears away as I turn back to face the general. Her auburn hair frames the angriest expression I've ever seen her wear.

"What are you thinking?" she hisses. "The Selection starts tomorrow, and I just found out you went to Ground Earth. Do you know how much effort—how many strings I have to pull—to make sure your checkpoint records are wiped and no one from NovaTopia will know about this? Are you trying to ruin my reputation, Lara? Are you trying to lose?"

"No, General," I sob. My hand presses firmly against my cheek, still stinging with pain. "I was- I was just trying to help Morgan with their cyberarm..."

"Morgan Sánchez? You got your rival back in the game?" General Caelum's voice raises into a high-pitched shriek. "So you are trying to lose! You had your win on a golden platter and you threw it in the trash! I told you that I am choosing to sponsor you and this is how you return the favor? By making sure you'll lose with my sponsorship? Is this a ploy? Did your brother set you up on this?"

The nauseating stench of burning flesh, a familiar smell that sends a chill down my spine, fills the air. General Caelum's right palm is glowing red, a bright flame of fire at her charred fingertips. Fear grips my heart.

"I just wanted things to be fair, General!" I yell frantically. "Morgan got hurt protecting me, so I wanted to help them! To- To return the favor! That's- That's all! I still want to win!"

Silence ensues. For a brief moment, there was no sound other than my heavy breaths. The burning smell subsides.

"I see," General Caelum says. She is calmer now now, but there is still a slight strain behind her words. "You have a gentle heart. It's not ideal for a soldier, but it is... very much valued on NovaTopia."

I flinch when she steps toward me, but she moves past me and sits down on my bed.

"Come, Lara."

Slowly, I perch on the edge of the bed next to her. My hand is still glued to my cheek, but General Caelum peels it away. Her fingers trace along my sensitive skin; it is wet with tears. I can see her Rea earpieces in her ears, the same model as mine. I wonder if it's telling her about my examination results from yesterday—and if I am safe to touch.

"I'm sorry for hurting you," she whispers, "but what you did hurt me as well. Tell me, how dirty and awful was Ground Earth? Did any of the Ground Earthers hurt you?"

My heart beats in my ears as I consider my answers. I don't want to make General Caelum angry again.

"It... It was kinda dirty..." But it was also the most beautiful and vibrant place I've ever seen. "And some people did try to hurt me..." While some saved and cared for me.

"See? What did I tell you? It's a terrible place. If you've stayed down there for a few more days, you would've failed your checkpoint examinations and wouldn't be able to compete in the Selection. But no matter. You're back now, and as long as you don't make any more stupid mistakes, I can still sponsor you. You need to do well, Lara. I've been singing your praises to the Board of Directors, so don't let me down."

"I- I won't, General."

General Caelum stands and straightens her pants. "I'm going to take a shower now. You should take multiple. Make sure to wash off your Ground Earth stain before tomorrow."

Stain.

I gulp down the lump in my throat before forcing out a meek nod.

After going through multiple rounds of examination, I do feel like a stain in the pristine Tower.

A stain that doesn't belong.

"Hey, um, General," I blurt, "can I ask you a question?"

General Caelum stops in front of the door. "What is it?"

"Do you... Do you know where I'm from?"

General Caelum's expression remains stoic, but her eyelids quiver for a brief moment. She turns away from me. "Don't waste my time with your silly questions. Get your head back in the game and win the Selection for me."

The door slams shut behind her.

I slump back down on the bed. Just a day ago, I would've thought my question was silly too, so I can't blame General Caelum for dismissing it. But these few days have been... a lot. Right now, all I want to do is to lay on my bed as the past three days replay in my brain. Ground Earth, the Piranhas, Devon, Ryan's secrets, the Tower... Morgan.

The doorbell rings.

"Cadet Sánchez is outside," informs Rea.

I sit up again—so quickly that my head spins—and run to open the door.

Morgan is in a simple tank top and sweatpants. Their shiny new cyberarm clinks softly as they give me a small wave. "Hey, good morning."

Relief surges within me. "Hey. Wanna come in?"

They nod.

Other than my bed, there's nowhere else to sit in my living unit. And so Morgan sits next to me—at the spot General Caelum was on. Unlike the general, their body is stiff, and they settle on the very edge of the mattress, much like the way I sat beside her a moment ago.

"Relax, Morgan," I say with a smile, "this bed's not gonna swallow you up."

They glide further into the bed. "How are you holding up? Do you need this?" They take out the bottle Ryan gave them from their pocket—the medication for treating high-altitude de-acclimatization syndrome.

My mind is whirring with thoughts, but I doubt it has anything to do with this de-acclimatization thing. "Nah, I feel fine."

Morgan keeps the bottle. "Your body is so much stronger than mine. You didn't need this pill when we went to Ground Earth too. You're winning this Selection for sure."

I frown. "Why would you say that? Are you feeling fine?"

"Right now, yeah, but I think it's only because Devon gave me some hard-core meds when he treated my injury. Because I got, uh, pretty sick when we first went down."

"You were?"

They scratch their head. "Yeah, I tried not to show it, but I was sick even after taking these pills from Ryan. I, uh, only managed to snap out of it after the Piranhas started attacking us. Adrenaline helped, I guess."

"Oh." I remember how uncharacteristically silent Morgan was during the initial moments on Ground Earth. Shame weighs on my head. "I didn't realize you were feeling so sick. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'm very good at pretending I'm well."

"You shouldn't pretend anymore. At least, you don't have to in front of me."

Their lips curl. "Okay, I won't anymore." They finally drop their tense posture and lean backward on their elbows. Their dark eyes—now at my eye level—linger on mine. "So, you ready for the Selection?"

"I guess? I mean, I've been preparing for it all my life." My lackluster response would have made past me so annoyed. But I can't seem to muster up any more energy.

"That other day... you mentioned that you were getting sponsored by General Caelum." Morgan glances away for a moment. "Are you... still going to be sponsored by her?"

The question feels like yet another slap from General Caelum.

"Her Gift is very dangerous, Lara," Morgan continues. "I know being sponsored by a general gives you a better chance at winning, but past candidates sponsored by her... they don't always fare well with her Gift. The constant burns that come from it..."

"It's unpleasant, but she said I can get used to it."

Morgan purses their lips. They are silent for now, but their worry radiates out of them anyway.

"And Ryan got her Gift too, back when he was doing his Selection," I add. "If he was okay with it, I should be too."

"Are you sure he was okay with it?"

"He's never told me..." But the anger at his secrecy bubbles inside me again. "Whatever; I don't want to talk about him. And maybe I won't be sponsored by General Caelum anyway. She was mad at me for going to Ground Earth. She said she'll still sponsor me but I don't know. She hates Ground Earth so much. Maybe she'll change her mind."

Morgan frowns. Their eyes dart from the door then back at me. "I was here earlier but I saw her walking around so I hid in my room for a while to avoid her. So was she here to find you? To tell you about how mad she is about you going to Ground Earth?"

"Yeah. She was, um, pretty angry."

Their frown deepens. They stare at me for a long moment, as if trying to drill a hole in my forehead. "Did she hurt you?"

My hand flies to my cheek on instinct, but I put it down immediately. "No, it's- it's alright—"

Morgan sits up and holds my shoulders, turning me towards them and inspecting my face. "She did hurt you."

Their finger caresses my stinging cheek. The hurt has subsided to a faint tingle, but the heat rising to my face is causing it to explode in pain all over again.

"Should we report her?" Morgan whispers.

Report General Caelum? My stomach twists. "To... who? She's a... general. The longest-serving one too, so she has the most power..."

"The NovaTopian Board of Directors will arrive tomorrow. They outrank the generals. We can tell them."

My jaw drops. I wait for Morgan's laugh, for them to say that it was a joke, but the earnestness in their expression tells me that it wasn't one. I shrug their hands away. "It's okay, I mean, I'm fine anyway, and it was... it was a one-off thing."

For a moment, it looks as though Morgan wants to argue with me. But instead, they turn away and grumble, "You should take off that stupid rule bot in your ears."

I touch the earpiece defensively. "What's wrong with wanting to be cautious about not committing any violations?"

They roll their eyes. "You shouldn't need a bot to tell you how to live your life."

"Rea's not telling me how to live..." I trail off, knowing Morgan is kind of right. "But hey, Rea screaming into my ears is what first notified us of the Piranha's attack a few days ago, remember? So, it's not completely useless."

Morgan snorts. "Yeah, it was the most useful when it malfunctioned."

Shaking my head, I lie all the way back on my bed. My ceiling is the same boring, white hue, but Morgan—with their furrowed brows and concerned scowl—is a nice addition to the view.

"Hey," I say softly, "how are you sure that you're born on Earth?"

Morgan raises their brows. "Uh, I'm quite certain. I mean, I even knew my mother's midwife growing up, so..."

"Midwife?"

"The person who helped my mother deliver me."

"Deliver you?"

"Yeah, like getting me out of her womb without killing her." A smirk climbs up their lips. "Wait, Lara, don't tell me that you don't know how babies are made."

"Of- Of course I do!"

"And yet you don't know what a midwife is?"

My cheeks burn. "Why- Why should I even know it? It's not like I'm trying to have a baby."

Morgan bursts into laughter as they fall next to me in the bed. Despite my annoyance, their laughter is so contagious that I find myself laughing too. When we both calm down, they turn their head to look at me. A fuzziness crawls up my heart—the same sensation as when we were lying next to each other in Devon's room.

"It doesn't matter wherever you're born," Morgan says. "What matters is where you belong. And there's no one I know who deserves more to be here."

I smile. "Thank you."

They raise a fist. "Do your best tomorrow, Lara."

I lift mine and bump theirs. "You too. One last showdown like old times?"

"Like old times," they concur with a smirk.

And for the first time since coming back to the Tower, my usual determination returns.