A sense of loneliness crept over her despite being in the crowded little chamber. She couldn’t believe people lived this way once, with nothing but the real. Savages on the outside still lived this way.
“It worked,” Soren said. “We’re off! We’re strictly meat!”
Bane hopped up and down. “We’re like the Savages!”
“We’re Savages!” Echo yelled. “We’re Outsiders!”
Paisley kept blinking over and over. Aria wanted to reassure her, but she couldn’t concentrate with Bane and Echo blasting around in the small space.
Soren spun a manual release bar on the door. The chamber depressurized with a quick hiss and a rush of cool air. Aria looked down, stunned to see Paisley’s hand clasped to hers. She had only a second to absorb the fact that she hadn’t touched anyone in months, since her mother left, before Soren slid the door open.
“Freedom at last,” he said, and then stepped into the darkness.
In the shaft of light that spilled out of the airlock chamber, she saw the same smooth floors that ran everywhere in Reverie, but these were coated with a layer of dust. Soren’s footprints stamped a trail into the gloom.
What if the dome wasn’t secure? What if Ag 6 crawled with outside dangers? A million deaths in the Death Shop. A million diseases might be swimming in the air rushing past her cheeks. Inhaling suddenly felt like suicide.
Aria heard beeps from a keypad coming from Soren’s direction. Tracks of lights flickered on with a series of loud clicks. A cavernous space appeared. Farming rows stretched back as even as stripes. High above, pipes and beams crisscrossed the ceiling. She saw no gaping hole or other signs of wreckage. With its dirty floors and solemn quiet, the dome simply looked neglected.
Soren jumped in front of the doorway, bracing the frame.
“Blame me if this turns out to be the greatest night of your life.”
The food grew from waist-high plastic mounds. Row after row of decaying fruits and vegetables spread out around her in endless lines. Like everything in the Pod, they were genetically designed for efficiency. They had no leaves, and needed no soil and little water to grow.
Aria plucked a withered peach, cringing at how easily she’d bruised the soft flesh. In the Realms food still grew, or pretended to grow virtually, on farms with red barns and fields under sunny skies. She remembered the latest Smarteye slogan, Better than Real. It was true in this case. The real food in Ag 6 looked like old people before aging-reversal treatments.
The boys spent the first ten minutes chasing each other down the aisles and leaping over the farming rows. That turned into a game Soren dubbed “Rotball,” which consisted of pegging one another with produce. Aria played for a while, but Soren kept aiming for her and he threw too hard.
She took cover with Paisley, ducking behind a row as Soren changed the game again. He lined Bane and Echo against the wall execution-style and then fired grapefruits at the brothers, who just stood there laughing.
“No more citrus!” Bane yelled. “We’ll talk!”
Echo put his hands up like Bane. “We give, Fruit Reaper! We’ll talk!”
People always did what Soren wanted. He had priority in all the best Realms. He even had a Realm named after him, SOREN 18. Soren’s father created it for his eighteenth birthday a month ago. Tilted Green Bottles played a special concert. During the last song, the stadium flooded with seawater. Everyone had transformed into mermaids and mermen. Even in the Realms, where anything was possible, that party had been spectacular. It had set off the underwater concert craze. Soren had made caudal fins sexy.
Aria rarely meshed with him after school hours. Soren ruled the sports and combat Realms. Places where people could compete and be ranked. She normally kept to art and music Realms with Paisley and Caleb.
“Look at this messy thing,” Paisley said, rubbing at an orange smear on her pants. “It won’t go away.”
“It’s called a stain,” Aria said.
“What’s the point of stains?”
“There isn’t any. That’s why we don’t have them in the Realms.” Aria studied her best friend. Paisley wore a pinched expression, her brow overlapping the edge of her Smarteye. “Are you all right?”
Paisley waved her fingers in front of her Eye. “I hate this. Everything’s missing, you know? Where is everyone? And why do I sound so pseudo?”
“We all do. Like we swallowed megaphones.”
Paisley lifted an eyebrow. “A what?”
“A cone people used to make their voices louder. Before microphones.”
“Sounds mega-regress,” Paisley said. She scooted around, squaring her shoulders to Aria. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Why are we with Soren?”
Now that they were shut off, Aria realized she could tell Paisley her reason for flirting with him. “I need to find out about Lumina. I know Soren can get information from his father. He might already know something.”
Paisley’s expression softened. “The link is probably just down. You’ll hear from her soon.”
“The link has only dropped for a few hours before. Never for this long.”
Paisley sighed, leaning back against the plastic mound. “I couldn’t believe it when you sang to him the other night. And you should’ve seen Caleb. He thought you’d broken into your mother’s medicines.”
Aria smiled. She usually kept her voice private, something strictly between herself and her mother. But a few nights ago, she made herself sing a sultry ballad to Soren in a Cabaret Realm. In minutes that Realm had reached full capacity, with hundreds of people waiting to hear her sing again. Aria had left. And just as she’d hoped, Soren had been chasing her since. When he’d proposed the idea for tonight, she’d jumped at the opportunity.