Champion (Legend #3)

The voiceover begins. “The United States of America—also known as the USA, the United States, the US, America, and the States—was a prominent country in North America composed of fifty states held together as a federal constitutional republic. It first declared independence from England on July 4, 1776, and became recognized on September 3, 1783. The United States unofficially split into two countries on October 1, 2054 and officially became the western Republic of America and the eastern Colonies of America on March 14, 2055.”

Here the voiceover pauses, then shifts. “Skip to a subtopic? Popular subtopics: the Three-Year Flood, the Flood of 2046, the Republic of America, the Colonies of America.”

A series of bright blue markers appear over the west and east coasts of North America. I stare at them for a moment, my heart pounding, before I reach out and try to touch a marker near the southern coastline of the Colonies. To my surprise, I can feel the texture of the landscape under my finger. “The Colonies of America,” I say.

The world rushes up at me with dizzying speed. I’m now standing on what feels like solid ground, and all around me are thousands of people huddled together in makeshift shelters in a flooded cityscape, while hundreds are launching an all-out attack against soldiers decked out in uniforms I don’t recognize. Behind the soldiers are crates and sacks of what look like rations.

“Unlike the Republic of America,” the voiceover starts, “where the government enforced rule through martial law in order to crack down on the influx of refugees into its borders, the Colonies of America formed on March 14, 2055 after corporations seized control of the federal government (the former United States, see higher index) following the latter’s failure to handle debt accumulated from the Flood of 2046.” I take a few steps forward—it’s as if I’m right here in the middle of the scene, standing just a few dozen feet from where the people are rioting. My surroundings look shaky and pixelated, as if rendered from someone’s personal videos. “In this civilian recording, the city of Atlanta stages a fifteen-day riot against the United States Federal Emergency Management Agency. Similar riots appeared in all eastern cities over the course of three months, after which the cities declared loyalty to the military corporation DesCon, which possessed funds the beleaguered government did not.”

The scene blurs and clears, placing me in the center of an enormous campus full of buildings, each displaying a symbol I recognize as the DesCon logo. “Along with twelve other corporations, DesCon contributed its funds to aid the civilians. By early 2058, the United States government ceased to exist altogether in the east and was replaced with the Colonies of America, formed by a coalition of the country’s top thirteen corporations and bolstered by their joint profits. After a series of mergers, the Colonies of America now consists of four ruling corporations: DesCon, Cloud, Meditech, and Evergreen. Skip to a specific corporation?”

I stay silent, watching the rest of the immersive video unfold until it finally pauses on the last frame, an unsettling image of a desperate civilian shielding his face from a soldier’s hoisted gun. Then I remove my virtual glasses, rub my eyes, and step out of the now-blank and sterile-looking glass cylinder. My footsteps echo in the empty chamber. I feel dizzy and numb from the sudden lack of moving images.

How can two countries with such radically different philosophies ever reunite? What hope do we possibly have of transforming the Republic and the Colonies into what they once were? Or perhaps they’re not as drastically different as I think they are. Aren’t the Colonies’ corporations and the Republic’s government really the same thing? Absolute power is absolute power, no matter what it’s called. Isn’t it?

I exit the chamber, lost in thought, and as I turn the corner to head to my room, I almost bump right into Anden.

“June?” he blurts out when he sees me. His wavy hair is slightly disheveled, as if he’s been raking his hands through it, and his collar shirt is crumpled, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the buttons near his neck undone. He manages to compose himself enough to offer me a smile and a bow. “What are you doing up here?”

“Just exploring.” I return his smile. I’m too tired to mention all my online research. “I’m not sure what I’m doing here, to be honest.”

Anden laughs softly. “Me either. I’ve been wandering the halls for over an hour.” We pause for a moment. Then he turns back in the direction of his suite and gives me a questioning look. “The Antarcticans won’t help us, but they’ve been kind enough to send a bottle of their best wine up to my room. Care to have a sip? I could use some company—and some advice.”

Advice from his lowliest Princeps-Elect? I fall into step with him, all too aware of the closeness between us. “How very polite of them,” I reply.

“Exceedingly polite,” he murmurs under his breath so that I can barely hear him. “Next they’ll be throwing us a parade.”

Anden’s suite is nicer, of course, than my own—at least the Antarcticans did him that courtesy. A curved glass window runs along half of the wall, giving us a breathtaking view of Ross City engulfed in thousands of twinkling lights. The Antarcticans must be simulating this nightfall too, considering how it’s supposed to be summer down here—but the simulation seems flawless. I think back on the dome-like film we passed through as we descended into the city. Maybe it acts like a giant screen too. Streaks dance quietly across the sky in sheets of breathtaking color, turquoise and magenta and gold, all of them swirling together and vanishing and reappearing against a backdrop of stars. I catch my breath. Must be imitating the aurora australis. I’d read about these southern lights during our weekly lessons, although I hadn’t expected them to look this beautiful, simulation or not.

“Nice view,” I say.

Anden grins wryly, a small spark of amusement shining through his otherwise weary mood. “The useless advantages of being the Republic’s Elector,” he replies. “I’ve been reassured that we can see through this glass, but that no one from outside can see us. Then again, perhaps they’re just messing with me.”

We settle into soft chairs near the window. Anden pours us both glasses of wine. “One of the accused guards confessed about Commander Jameson,” he says as he hands a glass to me. “Republic soldiers unhappy with my rule, paid off by the Colonies. The Colonies is taking advantage of Commander Jameson’s knowledge of our military. She might even still be within our borders.”

I sip my wine numbly. So, it was all true. I desperately wish I could go back in time to when I’d visited Thomas in his cell, that I could have noticed the unusual setup in time. And she could still be within our borders. Where is Thomas?

“Rest assured,” Anden says when he sees my expression, “that we’re doing everything we can to find her.”

Everything we can might not be enough. Not with our attention and soldiers spread out so thin, trying to fight a war on so many sides. “What do we do now?”

“We return to the Republic tomorrow morning,” he replies. “That’s what we do. And we’ll push the Colonies back without the Antarcticans’ help.”

“Are you really going to give up some of our land to them?” I ask after a pause.

Anden swirls the wine in his glass before taking a sip. “I haven’t turned them down yet,” he says. I can hear the disgust with himself in his voice. His father must’ve seen such a move as the ultimate betrayal of his country.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, unsure how to console him.

“I’m sorry too. The good news is I’ve received word that Day and his brother have both successfully evacuated to Los Angeles.” He exhales a long breath. “I don’t want to force him into anything, but I might be running out of options. He’s keeping his word, you know. He’d agreed to help us in any way he could, short of giving up his brother. He’s trying to help, in the hopes that it’ll guilt me out of asking for Eden. I wish we’d brought him. I wish he could see the situation from my point of view.” He looks down.

My heart squeezes again at the thought of Day being killed in action, and settles in relief at the news that he has survived unscathed. “What if we persuade the Antarcticans to take Day in for his treatment? It might be his only chance at surviving his illness, and it might at least make him consider the risk of letting Eden undergo experimentation.”

Anden shakes his head. “We have nothing to bargain with. Antarctica has offered as much help to us as they’re willing. They won’t trouble themselves with taking in one of our patients.”

Deep down, I know this too. It’s just a final, desperate idea from me. I understand, as well as he does, that Day would never hand over his brother in exchange for saving his own life. My eyes wander back to the display of light outside.

“I don’t blame him, not at all,” Anden says after a pause. “I should have stopped those bioweapons the instant they named me Elector. The very same day my father died. If I were smart, that’s what I would’ve done. But it’s too late to dwell on that now. Day has every right to refuse.”

I feel a swell of sympathy for him. If he forcefully takes Eden into custody, Day will no doubt call the people to rise up in revolt. If he respects Day’s decision, he risks not finding a cure in time and allowing the Colonies to take over our capital—and our country. If he hands over a piece of our land to Antarctica, the people may see him as a traitor. And if our ports are sealed, we won’t be receiving any imports or supplies at all.

And yet, I can’t blame Day either. I try to put myself in his shoes. The Republic tries to kill me as a ten-year-old; they experiment on me before I escape. I live the next few years in the harshest slums of Los Angeles. I watch the Republic poison my family, kill my mother and older brother, and blind my younger brother with their engineered plagues. Because of the Republic’s experiments, I’m slowly dying. And now, after all the lies and cruelty, the Republic approaches me, begging for my help. Begging for me to allow them to experiment once again on my younger brother, experiments that can’t guarantee his absolute safety. What would I say? I would probably refuse, just as he did. It’s true that my own family suffered horrible fates at the hands of the Republic . . . but Day had been on the front lines, watching everything unfold from the time he was small. It’s a miracle that Day had given his support to Anden in the first place.

Anden and I sip wine for four more minutes, watching the city lights in silence.

“I envy Day, you know,” he says, his voice as soft as ever. “I’m jealous that he gets to make decisions with his heart. Every choice he makes is honest, and the people love him for it. He can afford to use his heart.” His face darkens. “But the world outside of the Republic is so much more complicated. There’s just no room for emotion, is there? All of our countries’ relations are held together with a fragile web of diplomatic threads, and these threads are what prevent us from helping one another.”