Office of Mercy (9781101606100) by Ariel Djanikian Page B

lifeless objects. It felt impossible to believe they contained well-stocked, cheerful rooms full of busy citizens. Above the wings peaked the Dome, as still and faceless as its adjacent structures. The Dome was the bud of the flower and the wings were its petals, Natasha thought. Though the analogy did not seem so apt from this perspective—except for how it cast America-Five as a tiny thing glued to the Earth. Three stories the honeycomb windows rose over the grass, and yet, compared with the sky, it was nothing. In fact, even taking into account the column of nine underground levels, it seemed suddenly absurd to Natasha that they kept all that life squeezed into so small a space, when the rest of the land was so empty.
    The way through the forest was rough and slow, and they were forced to move single file: first, Douglas, who held the title of navigator, though they all knew the way, then Alejandra, Eric, Natasha, Nolan, and finally Jeffrey. Natasha’s energy was largely spent keeping her footing, pushing the small springy twigs out of her way and releasing them gently, so they did not snap back against Nolan’s visor. They saw animals, creatures so alert and perfect it seemed bizarre that they had come into existence without any help: a brown tuft-tailed rabbit, pretty little birds with iridescent wings, a squirrel, spread-limbed, climbing a tree, and little flying specks called gnats that would have nibbled their flesh, if not for the biosuits.
    Of course, not all of it was pleasant. A few hours into their hike, Eric stuck his foot into what turned out to be the open and maggot-infested carcass of a raccoon. The rancid pink and white inside was enough to make Natasha gag. And she could hardly pay attention while Eric wiped his boot against a tree and Jeffrey explained that the death was probably the work of another male of that species.
    â€œSee the gash here?” he asked them. “Right across its middle? It probably took him a long time to die. Nature at its finest . . .”
    The bright spots of sun grew brighter and the woods took on the glow of a full-fledged mid-August day. Soon, through her helmet, Natasha could hear a new sound: like water gushing from a sink but magnified by a thousand. Eventually, the trees thinned and the land curved downward, sloping into a bank of rock and mud, identical to the one opposite. A fast path of dark water ran in between. A river.
    â€œAmazing,” rang Alejandra’s voice in her ear. “It’s like it has its own life.”
    â€œI wish we had one of these in the settlement,” Eric added. “Do the Tribes actually drink from this?”
    â€œOf course they do,” Nolan answered. “And so did a lot of other people too, before the Storm.”
    â€œDidn’t work out well for them, though,” Jeffrey said. “That water may look pretty, but it sickened thousands. In Pre-Storm times, it was flowing with toxins. People would drink and then their stomachs would puff out like balloons.”
    â€œAnd worse things that we won’t mention,” Douglas added.
    â€œBut it’s clean now?” Natasha asked. The water was so clear and bright, she could not imagine it making anyone sick.
    â€œClean enough for the animals, and for the Tribes,” Jeffrey said. “But not for us.”
    They veered off from the river, toward the northern mountain ridge, approaching the place of the first downed sensor. They were in a deadzone now. The Office of Mercy could not see them, and would not be able to catch sight of a bear approaching or a dead branch swaying dangerously in the wind. The team reached the ridge and began to climb. The ground became loose and dry. They ascended higher than the sprawling tops of trees, keeping to a natural pathway along the mountain edge. The cliffs bordered them on one side, and their other side was wide open to the valley beneath. The sun beat down, making Natasha