If you had to endure a debilitating condition of body or mind, which would you choose? In this world, everyone suffers.
Intrigued? Well read on to discover the synopsis and an excerpt from Mary Baader Kaley’s Burrowed, which is out January 10th.
In the far-future aftermath of a genetic plague that separated human society into two different groups – sickly yet super-intelligent Subterraneans and healthy but weak-minded Omniterraneans – a brilliant Subter girl is tasked with fixing the broken genetic code to reunite the two groups in the next generation.
But when a newer plague turns fatal for the surface-dwelling Omnits, the only group able to reproduce (giving birth to both Subter and Omnit children), Zuzan must find a cure or humanity won’t simply remain divided, it will become extinct.
But there’s more conflict at hand than a broken genetic code. The fragile connection between Subters and Omnits has frayed to the point of breaking – to the point of war – and it will take more than genius to repair; it will take heart.
CHAPTER 2
Absolutely No Celebrating
(Present Day, Twelve Years Later)
During my first years at Cayan, even Medera Gelia’s love and kindness couldn’t reach the cracks in my soul, and I often found myself wondering if I should run away to search for my Omnit family. I would estimate how long I’d last above ground, exposed to every toxin and microscopic bug known to this Earth. Would it be a week before I died? A few days? In my young mind though, I still believed it would be worth it. But that was only if I could find them in that amount of time – my mother, father and any brothers or sisters that I might have. I’d always hoped I’d be able to tell who they were because we’d have similar traits – like, maybe my mother had the same shape to her chin or the same colour as my sister’s eyes. I could almost see what they all looked like, and how I would fit in.
Ten years later, that crisp picture I had of my mother has faded away along with my hopes of ever meeting her. But I do occasionally wonder – does she think about me? Does she wonder about the shape of my chin? Does she think I’m already dead?
I’m not dead, not yet. I have four-and-a-half years left according to the Life Expectancy logarithm. But since I don’t graduate until I’m twenty, I’m burning seven more weeks off my LE just to make it to my birthday, which rots. In seven weeks,
I’ll probably be washing someone’s dirty socks. Most post-grad professions require a minimum of five LE years, if not ten – that is, except for maidships – but I have my sights set on being a medera. Medera Gelia urged me to apply anyway, insisting that despite my low LE, they couldn’t ignore my high scores.
As it turns out, they can.
I have zero job offers so far, while Maddelyn, my old friend from the tran ride, has four job offers to choose from. Four.
“Let’s go, let’s go, my precious queens,” Maddelyn calls out to the youngest and newest girls in our burrow, with just a vein of irritation running through her words, not unlike the hairline fissures tracing their way through the chiseled tunnels of our underground burrow. Night has fallen somewhere far above us, so she and I pull the hyperbaric drawers from the wall for each child to climb into for bed, just after they hang their canarymice cages adjacent to their drawer. We all carry our mice with us now for our protection.
A soft chime sounds on Maddelyn’s tablet – a job notification, and hopefully this one is for me. I don’t have my own tablet since the light messes with my vision, so I’m grateful she’s agreed to field my offers. Her gaze flashes in my direction. I know she’s also hoping for news for me. But all the previous notifications have been for her, so every new chime sends waves of panic instead of the excitement it used to. She and I look away at the same time. Despite my grim odds, my chest flutters – maybe one of the largest burrows has room for a junior medera?
We can’t check the message, though, until after we put our eight-year-olds to bed.
“Would Medera Gelia be angry if I called her ‘mother’?” a girl called C asks Maddy.
“Of course you can’t!” Maddelyn says sharply, and C flinches. I turn to Maddelyn and tilt my head, which helps set her straight. I don’t know what it is, but my best friend’s patience has thinned lately. Maybe the pressure of graduation is getting to her, but these children are new to our burrow and questions like this are normal. Everyone longs for the parents they’ve never met. “Your real mother loved you enough to send you underground for your health.” She sighs. “Don’t ever forget.”
C frowns as Maddelyn slides the child’s beddrawer into the cement wall to tuck her away.
“Good health,” I say just before the beddrawer closes. In all reality, Gelia is the closest thing to a parent we have down here. It’s Gelia’s face I now see when I think of motherhood, and it’s because of Gelia that I want to become a medera.
After tucking in our remaining five youngest burrowlings, Maddelyn nods at me as if to say she’s not worried about my future. She slides her arm through mine to reassure me, but also to stay warm as we make our way through the cobblestonewalled hallways of this wing. As the oldest underground school for Subterranean burrowlings, Cayan holds a lot of charm. Maddy complains the burrow is too rustic with its candlelit corridors and old-fashioned finishes, but I prefer candles to bulbs since the intensity of electricity forces me to use the strongest setting on my room-darkening goggles.
We each use a long snuffer to extinguish the candles set on iron sconces as we pass by; the ashy scent of smoke follows us like it’s sad to see us go. As the flames die, shadows and fleeting smoke dance upon the walls, playing into my childish fear of ghosts. I stiffen. My imagination haunts me with the dark silhouette of chubby phantom arms, or a ghostly face, open-mouthed in a perpetual scream, only silenced because it’s trapped inside the stone. I hold my breath as we hurry past the dark corridor that leads to the cremation chamber. It’s all very silly now, but I cling to Maddelyn’s arm as a new panic rises inside my chest. What will happen after she graduates in a few short weeks and I’m left to wander these halls alone?
My friend pulls me into the last room of the corridor and sets her caged canarymouse down on the floor. The small space was originally used for storage but when we were first years, Medera Gelia converted it by installing recycled shelves and collecting donations of paged books, all for my sake. Then she dubbed the space our library.
Maddy and I sit down on the burlap pillows set against the rough, rocky wall. I used to think the unfinished room felt more like an abandoned cave, but Maddy and I have spent so much time here over the years that now it’s our favorite place in the entire burrow. I breathe in the stale smell of inked pages while trying to calm my nerves about that jetting notification.
“Let’s just get this over with,” I mumble.
“It’s got to be for you.” She activates the tablet and I turn away from the brightness, adjusting the setting on my goggles. I set my canarymouse next to hers.
Our elbows remain locked as I wait for her to read the message. The silence between us looms larger and larger as the seconds tick on. My thumping heart stills because she would have told me by now if she had good news for me. It must be another job offer for her. I take a breath, steeling myself.
“Did that offer from Common Good come through for you?” I hope my voice sounds cheery, but inside I’m panicking about being alone like I was before I met Maddy. I wish I could snuff out the memories of how lost I was back then. Maddy changed everything for me and as much as I long to be a medera, nothing will be the same without her.
She gives one tiny nod, like she’s sorry, and flips the tablet over. Of all the offers she’s received, this is the one she’s been dying to hear about. “The next one will be yours,” she says. “You have to believe hard, that’s all. Hard as diamonds.”
“Common Good is selective with its interns.” The last thing I want to do is ignore her accomplishments, and I am happy for her. “It’s a huge honor. Congratulations, Maddelyn.”
“Absolutely no celebrating.” It’s one of her rules, but a small smile spreads across her pale lips, anyway. “We’ll jinx it. It’s only a trial run for six months,” she says, “but I’d get to sit in on policy review, elbow-to-elbow with decisionmakers on all aspects of social reform.”
“They’ll adore you.”
She swivels around and holds me by my shoulders, her smile disappearing. “Someone will call on you soon. You’ll be the medera of all mederas. Someday, children will weep with joy when they discover they’ve made it to Medera Zuzan’s burrow.”
It’s easy to hard-as-diamonds believe while looking into Maddelyn’s insistent eyes, except believing is too close to hoping, and sometimes hope is scarier than my imaginary ghosts. I manage a smile before she lets me go, and I get up to return my latest book to its shelf. If I’m not offered a permanent position in my chosen field before my birthday, I’ve no doubt we’ll never see each other again after I’m assigned to maidwork. I’ll be washing sheets, and she’ll be too busy implementing social regulations. What would we talk about, anyway? Our worlds would be too different.
“You still have two months – plenty of time for a burrow to open a slot.” Maddelyn calls from two aisles down.
“Seven weeks.” I run my fingers over the bumpy spines of the books as I walk toward her. I’ve read every one we own and when Medera Gelia adds a new title, I celebrate like it’s my Name Day all over again. Most burrows use tablets now – even Cayan, except for me with my light-blindness.
Maddelyn rubs her eye with her fist and holds onto a metal bookshelf as if she’s trying to steady herself. Her canarymouse squeaks like it’s been pinched.
“Are you sick?” I catch her arm as I approach.
“My eyes–” She blinks hard, as if her vision has turned blurry. “They feel funny, but I’m – I’m okay, Zu.” She shakes off my hand.
“We can stop at the infirmary.” I hold her chin still to check her eyes for inflammation, but this time she slaps my hand away. Maddelyn never complains yet she’s a little jittery. Her emergency injection hangs from a chain around her neck; she and I have been lucky enough to never have needed our needles, thank all that’s good. I frown at the dark circles forming steadily under her eyes. “Maddy?”
“Stop being ridiculous!” She huffs as if I’m overreacting, but everyone is supposed to go to the infirmary at the onset of even the slightest symptom. She knows that.
She blinks hard several times, like she’s confused. “I – I’m sorry. I’m just tired. Everything is irritating me. I’m mad about your job offers. If anyone should get one, it’s you. The whole system rots, and it’s too focused on Life Expectancy, even though anyone can die at any time.”
I’m not sure how to respond, except to turn her back to calmer thoughts from a few minutes ago. “I just have to believe hard, right?” I smile, hoping she’s just nervous about leaving Cayan, like I am. But there’s a tremble in her hand when she flips her hair behind her ear. Something’s definitely wrong. “I’m sure the medmaid is awake at the infirmary.”
“I said no!” Her voice cuts deeply, like I’m her enemy instead of her closest friend. She shakes her head, almost arguing with herself. “I’m sorry. Again. I’m exhausted and I can’t stand the sight of these jetting books right now.”
Her mouse begins to bite the wire bars on its cage, and I swear it’s trying to get at my mouse next to it. “You’re mad at the books?” I ask, puzzled. She’s never complained about our books before. She’s always enjoyed the time we spend here together.
She shoots a nervous glance around the room, and then tilts her head apologetically at me. “I’ll stop at the infirmary if it’ll make you happy.”
I smile and nod, which feels like a lie because I’m anything but happy right now. This must be what Medera has been worried about these last few weeks, and why she asked me to keep an eye on Maddy. We’re hoping Maddy’s unusual moodiness will level off soon, but it’s not.
A voice booms in the hallway. “Zuzan? Zu–” Jal’s lanky frame appears in the library’s doorway as he skip-jogs over to me. Maddy takes the opportunity to pull away. “There’s an undertech opening in the Genomic Center of Excellence, and guess who they want to interview!” He beams at me, glints in his eyes.
“Can you yell any louder about it?” Maddelyn speaks through her teeth. “You must realize she has yet to hear any news on mederaships, you insensitive slatebrain.” She huffs past him without another word, grabbing her mouse’s cage too roughly. Maddy’s albino-white hair flairs out as she storms into the corridor.
Jal watches after her with pouty eyes, and then he whispers, “Was I that loud?”
I shake my head at Maddy. “You can’t be too loud with such amazing news. Congratulations.” I bow in an exaggerated way, making him chuckle. But it’s hard to be excited through my worry. “Did you notice something off about Maddelyn?”
“She was cranky, but also very right.” He shrugs. “I may have aced my placement exam, but I fail miserably in the sensitivity department. You’ve got the best regional academic stats in the past ten years – you’ll hear something soon. Besides, your birthday is almost two months away.”
Seven weeks. My face warms and I try to read the titles of the textbooks on the shelf across the aisle from us to keep from crying, both from Maddy’s outburst and from my lack of job offers.
“I feel selfish to ask.” He takes my hand and leads me to the table and chairs. “Help me with my speech? I mean, just in case I’m accepted. Can you imagine me speaking to a roomful of scientists? I was thinking of using my serious face.” He crosses his eyes and makes fish lips, trying to cheer me up.
It’s working. “You’ll charm the labcoats off of them.”
“An undertech can never have enough labcoats.” He hands me his paper. “I wrote it down so you can look it over. I’m thinking about dressing like a canarymouse in a cage.”
I giggle, imagining him with ears and a tail. “You’re joking!”
“Mostly,” he shrugs, “but Medera wants me to take credit for developing the canary-mouse method of detecting fatal allergens.” Jal is the reason we all carry our own mouse now, and why fatalities due to toxic exposures and allergies at the Cayan Burrow have dropped by seventy percent since implementing the practice. Other burrows have begun requesting them too, and Jal is considered a science prodigy.
I snap my head towards the door. “Her canarymouse was acting funny,” I say. “Just like she was.”
“Was the canarymouse in respiratory distress, or excessively lethargic?” he asks like he’s consulting on a case. “Maddelyn sure wasn’t.”
“No – her mouse was hyper and aggressive, if anything.” These are not behaviors that would suggest her health was about to take a turn, but it’s an odd coincidence.
“It wouldn’t be hyper if it were undergoing anaphylactic shock.” He fidgets in his chair, like all the excitement about his interview is pumping through his veins – it’s like his Name Day all over again. “The DNA manipulation done on canary mice really only detects fatal allergens, not behavioral patterns.”
I nod, and try to focus on Jal’s speech as he asked. He opens it with his obsession for genetics, moving on to an outline of his canarymouse research. “I love how you touch on your experience with human genomes manually, without the proper equipment,” I say as I break out into a smile. “Your passion shines through loud and clear.”
Then he jumps up, grabbing the paper from my hand before I can finish reading. The page rips. “Read this later. I’ll explode if I sit still for another second.”
I laugh as he lifts me out of the chair, almost a foot into the air, before plopping me down. I enjoy the sense of weightlessness as he holds me in his hands and the jitters in my stomach. But he’s going off to become a scientist, and I’ll be a medera, I hope. There’s no point in liking him.
“Run with me, Zu?” He touches his forehead to mine, and he’d be looking right into my eyes if it weren’t for my goggles.
“What about your bones?” I glance at the protective mesh brace on his right forearm. “Besides, Medera would bang her cane if we start running around with all the first years sleeping in their bed drawers.”
“Number one, I’m invincible tonight. Number two, we’ll stay in the north corridors so we don’t wake anyone up.” He pulls me by my hand, and goes to skip out of the door. “Celebrate with me!”
I barely have a chance to fret about the recent worsening of Maddelyn’s condition or even about her warnings about not celebrating before we’re off and running. In our excitement, we leave our canary mice behind as if we could take on the world without such trivial worries. When we come to the first turn, Jal skids to a stop, crashes into the wall, and I crash into him.
“Ow!” He grabs his shoulder, his voice still echoing through the rock tunnels.
“Jal!” I take his arm and search his pained face. He’s broken that bone so many times it practically falls apart at a touch. But he can’t transfer to the Genomic Center of Excellence without medical clearance. All the joy from a few seconds before drains from me immediately. “Can you move it?”
He pulls my body into his, and he pivots his shoulder up and down, grinning. “Just kidding.”
I almost collapse with relief. “Don’t do that!”
He stares into my face for a moment, our breaths coming fast and mixing together, and he wiggles his eyebrows. “I can’t believe I’ve fooled the world’s brainiest human to walk these tunnels alone.”
“You didn’t trick me, but Jal–”
He squeezes me tighter into him. “I’ve fallen for you, Zu. Literally. For that insanely brilliant mind of yours, for your passion and kindness – everything.” In the twinkling of his eyes, I can see he means it. Maddy always teased me about having a crush on Jal, which stung in ways she could not know because I’d always believed I was too different for him to like me back.
“But – but I’m awkward and goggled and weak, and–” And he’s leaving. He’ll meet other people at the GCE. Women with higher Life Expectancies who have beautiful, color-seeing eyes.
“Well, then I guess awkward and goggled is my type.” He pulls a small, round object from his pocket, dropping it into my palm. “This is for you.”
It’s a smooth rock about an inch in diameter, still warm from the heat of his body. He’s painted a rose on its surface, with the petals wrapping around the curves.
“It’s red,” he says.
For me, it can’t be anything but variations of gray, but I’m glad to know. I flip it over, and in the tiniest, most extraordinary calligraphy, he’s painted a message that curves inside itself like a coil.
May good health find you always.
His gaze shifts to my mouth. “May I kiss you, Zuzan Cayan?”
I smile in response, and his lips press into mine. It’s soft and close – so real that I don’t doubt that awkward-and-goggled must be his type. All the objections I have fly out of my head, and for now I pretend that tomorrow doesn’t matter.
When he pulls away, he brushes his fingers down my cheek. The tenderness in his touch almost makes me want to cry. In the next second, he takes my hand again and laughs, pulling me down the next hallway.
