Page 7

Amelia clutched her bag as she followed Tara into the large, looming building. The door was heavier than she expected, and the lobby beyond it was cavernous, echoing with faint footsteps and a distant hum. Her gaze darted around, taking in the high ceilings and polished floors. Everything gleamed unnaturally as if it had never been touched by actual life.

Tara glanced over her shoulder. ‘You doing alright back there?’

Amelia nodded but didn’t speak. The truth was, she wasn’t sure what to make of this woman—or anything else. Tara had appeared out of nowhere, stopping that man before things got worse. But why?

What did she want in return? Was she just a nice person? Did they have those on the mainland? The Elders said not.

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a small, boxy space that seemed entirely too fragile for its purpose. Amelia hesitated before stepping inside.

‘Don’t worry. It’s safe,’ Tara said, leaning casually against the wall as the doors closed.

‘I know that,’ Amelia said quickly, gripping the bag tighter. ‘I’ve read about elevators. It’s just... smaller than I imagined.’

Tara’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. ‘You’ve read about elevators?’

‘Of course,’ Amelia said, a bit defensively. ‘I know about cities, too. And...’ She paused, searching for a word, then brightened. ‘Skyscrapers.’

‘Skyscrapers?’ Tara echoed, amused.

‘Yes. Buildings so tall they scrape the sky,’ Amelia said. She noted that Tara was trying not to laugh.

The elevator dinged, and Tara led her out into a quiet hallway. ‘Well, this building doesn’t quite scrape the sky, but it’ll do.’ She unlocked a door and pushed it open. ‘Come on in.’

Amelia stepped inside and blinked. The flat was both overwhelming and oddly familiar. It was messy and full of strange objects she couldn’t quite place. But there were books everywhere, which put her slightly more at ease. Books, she knew.

Tara tossed her keys onto a cluttered table. ‘It’s not much, but it’s home. You can put your stuff down anywhere.’

Amelia lowered her bag carefully by the sofa, feeling awkward. ‘Thank you for helping me. I... I wasn’t sure what I was going to do. I didn’t think anyone would help me like this.’

Tara waved her off. ‘You looked like you needed a hand.’

Amelia studied her, unsure. There was something guarded about Tara like she wasn’t saying everything.

Tara cleared some papers off a sofa. ‘So, you’re from Solhaven.’

Amelia hesitated. ‘That’s right.’

Tara nodded. ‘How’s that?’

‘How is what?’ Amelia asked.

‘Living like that.’

‘I’ve never known a different way.’

‘Technically, you have. If only for a very short amount of time.’

‘People know each other. We help each other. We don’t need all... this.’ She gestured vaguely at Tara’s home. She realised that was a rather rude thing to say and felt compelled to add, ‘Though I do understand why you might want it.’

Tara raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, yeah? Why’s that?’

‘Convenience,’ Amelia said, recalling more information about the mainland. ‘Instant heat in the winter without making a fire, electric lights that switch on anytime without having to fill the oil lamps. I read that you can get food here without even talking to anyone.’

Tara barked a laugh. ‘Yeah, that last one is certainly something I enjoy.’ She stopped laughing. ‘What am I thinking, not offering my guest a drink? Tea?’

‘Please,’ Amelia said, sitting gingerly on the sofa. She ran her fingers over the rough, bright fabric, curious. ‘This place is much like I imagined a city home to be. Chaotic. Temporary.’

‘Temporary?’ Tara asked as she headed into what Amelia assumed was a kitchen.

Amelia stood and followed her. It was indeed a kitchen. Though, like everything else, not as she knew it. Tara was filling a funny-looking little kettle from a tap. When she was done, she placed it on the counter instead of the hob and clicked a button on it.

‘Yes,’ Amelia said. ‘Nothing here looks like it’s made to last.’

Tara glanced back at her, intrigued. ‘You think everything here’s disposable?’

‘Isn’t it?’ Amelia asked. ‘I read that things here are used once and then thrown away.’

Tara turned back to the kettle, now boiling despite there being no heat in sight. ‘You’re not wrong.’

She studied Tara again, her curiosity growing. ‘What do you do as a job?’

Tara hesitated. ‘Oh, a little bit of everything.’

Amelia felt uncertain of that answer but didn’t want to press it.

Tara handed her a steaming mug of tea. ‘Drink up. You’ll feel better.’

Amelia took the mug, her suspicion fading slightly. The tea was warm in her hands and comforting. She sipped it cautiously.

‘What’s this?’ she asked. ‘It’s delicious!’

‘It’s tea. I’m sure you have tea,’ Tara said.

‘Yes, but this is different. Creamy.’

Tara thought. ‘It’s probably the oat milk.’

Amelia looked at Tara with suspicion. ‘You can’t milk an oat.’

Tara laughed. ‘No, no, we just call it that because it’s a substitute for milk. It’s made… actually, I have no idea how it’s made.’

Amelia was shocked. She was consuming something that she hadn’t even known existed this morning. But this was better than being robbed, that was for sure.

Tara went out into the living room, and Amelia followed. Tara sat down on the sofa. ‘So, what do you think of the mainland so far?’

Amelia sat down again on the hard fabric and considered the question. ‘It’s loud. Overwhelming. But also...’ She paused, searching for the right word.

‘Smelly?’ Tara offered.

‘Beautiful,’ Amelia said instead, surprising herself.

Tara’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Beautiful?’

Amelia nodded, thinking of the lights reflecting in the glass windows and the endless movement of the streets. It was too much, but it was also alive in a way she didn’t quite understand yet.

Tara watched her for a long moment, then smiled faintly. ‘This must seem like a lot to take in.’

It was, but somehow Amelia bristled at the way Tara phrased it. ‘I’m not a child.’

‘No one said you were,’ Tara replied. ‘Though it’s not every day someone calls my cluttered flat beautiful.’

Amelia huffed, sitting a little straighter. ‘I didn’t mean your flat specifically. The city as a whole... there’s a kind of movement to it. Like it’s... a living creature.’

Tara tilted her head, watching her curiously. ‘Most people just see the noise and the mess.’

‘Maybe they’ve stopped looking properly,’ Amelia said simply.

Tara raised an eyebrow, and a slow smile followed it. ‘And here I thought you were the one getting her mind blown.’

Amelia tilted her head. ‘I know that one. It means to surprise someone.’

‘Precisely,’ Tara agreed, with a dash of suspicion. ‘Ya know, you seem a little more acquainted with modern terms than I might have thought.’

Amelia sipped her tea, her expression thoughtful. ‘We have books. More than you’d think. Not just about history or farming but novels, too. Stories about people from everywhere.’

‘So, you’ve read your way into the modern world?’

‘In a way.’ Amelia shrugged. ‘But books are just a glimpse. They don’t prepare you for the... feeling of it all.’

Tara studied her, intrigued. ‘What kind of books?’

‘All sorts,’ Amelia said with a small smile. ‘Mysteries, romances, even some science fiction. Though I suspect a lot of that isn’t accurate.’

Tara snorted. ‘Yeah, I wouldn’t worry too much about aliens showing up any time soon.’ She took a sip of tea.

‘It wouldn’t be that much stranger than milking an oat,’ Amelia said.

‘I told you, we don’t actually…’ Tara began before realising Amelia was making a joke. She looked surprised. ‘You got me there. I can see I’ll need to watch out for you.’

Amelia let herself smile for the first time.

Tara paused as if weighing her next words. ‘So... what made you leave Solhaven? I mean, it sounds like paradise from the way you talk about it.’

Amelia’s smile faded, her fingers tightening around the mug. ‘It is... in many ways. But we have responsibilities. Every ten years, we have to talk to the government, to ask to stay on the land. It’s a formality, but it must be done. So here I am.’

Tara leaned forward, her curiosity piqued. ‘Have you done it before?

Amelia hesitated. ‘No. I inherited the task.’

‘Inherited it?’ Tara repeated. ‘From who?’

‘My grandmother. Mabel.’

‘She died?’ Tara asked.

‘Yes. A few weeks ago now.’

‘That’s rather fresh,’ Tara said with mild sympathy.

Amelia nodded. She didn’t want to talk about this. Was this how mainlanders worked? Just prodding at your pain like this?

‘Sounds like a lot of pressure,’ Tara said, her tone gentler now.

‘It is.’ Amelia sighed, the weight of it pressing down on her again.

Tara studied her for a moment, then leaned back, changing the subject. ‘Well, if you need a tour guide—or someone to explain what’s what—I could help you out.’

Amelia looked at her, surprised. ‘Why are you being so kind to me?’

Tara hesitated, her expression flickering. ‘Maybe I’m just kind.’

Amelia frowned, not entirely convinced. But there was a warmth to Tara’s voice that made her want to believe her.

‘Thank you,’ she said finally, feeling calmer than she had since she’d stepped off the boat.

But the calm didn’t last. Because she’d lost all the details of her trip. And she had no way to contact home. How was she going to do the thing she’d come here to do?