“Class, we have a very special visitor today,” Nevada announces after breakfast. “He’s multitalented: the governor of Vegas-by-the-Sea, a businessman and a philanthropist, helping many in the sectors. He has an exciting offer for all of you, and for The Greening,” she adds with evident pride. Nevada shakes out her hair, freshly adorned with an array of tiny braids. Her leaf earrings are carved from a stunning green stone and her matching green chameleon suit clings to her lean curves. High beige boots with a brushed finish show off her coltish legs. I’m curious about this man she seems dressed to impress.
Blane, Jan, Radius, Bea and Vesper push their way into the parlor and grab the best seats. Thorn has managed to scramble in too, but he’s saved me half a seat in the stuffed armchair that we fell asleep in together on that first day here. I offer Armonk a magnetic grin. His eyes dart quickly away. It hurts that he’s immune to my charms. I’m confused too; I thought that his shooting that arrow at Blane meant that Armonk liked me, at least as a friend. I need an ally here, and how else can I get close, but to smile and play coy? That’s how it worked at home. Guys, bah. I don’t get them. The pleasant memory of talking with Freeblossom and Petal tugs at me. Of us fixing each other’s hair and making gemstone necklaces. Of us piling up pots and spoons in my mother’s kitchen when we cooked a special beetle cake on Petal’s birthday, of us scribbling goofy desert critters on each other’s notebooks.
I consider offering Armonk my seat, but Nevada offers her first. More points against him I worry, as I glance over at Blane’s jealous stare. Blane might be Nevada’s henchman but Armonk is clearly her pet.
As I’m wondering how long it will take for our guest to arrive, a deeply tanned man emerges from Nevada’s private study and steps up to a podium. He looks like no man I’ve ever set eyes on. Running a hand through his teased up platinum hair, he beams out at us with a perfect row of teeth and a diamond earring that winks. With his spotless white shoes, gossamer white shirt and gleaming shell buttons running down its front it’s almost as if he rocketed down from an entirely alien planet. He’s spotless and breathes wealth, enough to buy all the feasts he needs to last a lifetime.
“I’m George Axiom,” he starts, “of Axiom Coastal.” My classmates gasp. Should I know about Axiom? Sounds vaguely familiar. Is he famous around here? I feel a surge of resentment toward the elders for keeping so many things from us. Was there a reason?
And then I remember the poster. I turn to it on the far wall. It’s still there, except that a hovercraft levitating over pretty turquoise waves still doesn’t explain much of anything. I turn back to Mr. Axiom.
“Call me George,” he’s saying. “I hail from a long line of Texas drillers, who drilled for oil before the Border Wars. I studied geology too, I know these desert buttes and mesas like the lines in my palm,” he brags.
What does this have to do with The Greening, or us?
“We built up Vegas after the mega-quakes destroyed California, may she rest in peace. Now, since I’ve taken on the role of governor, Vegas-by-the-Sea has become the most prosperous sector ever. We have new agar skyscrapers and hovercraft, new bridges and tunnels.” My classmates shift restlessly. Sounds like one of the elders back home, bragging. Clearly they’re also wondering what this has to do with them.
“In the last five years, we’ve acquired Stream embed technology from the north. We’re fast developing new genetic reorg, and ways to change this desert into a Mecca that will far overshadow Ocean and Land Dominion’s progress. This is where you people come in.”
At this, Blane and the others’ snouts prick up like hungry lizards at a plump spider.
“As you know, we’ve secured Fireagar from the north, and it’s feeding our people as never before.” Everyone nods, and he pauses to let this sink in.
Does this mean there are no more hungry hordes—no more starving beggars who would trap a lost soul for food down here, I wonder. If so, there goes another warped myth that my elders need to answer to if I ever set eyes on them again.