Total pages in book: 146
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144277 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 721(@200wpm)___ 577(@250wpm)___ 481(@300wpm)
“Power? What do you mean?”
“Well, they’re not alive, Jasina. They’re… machines. So they run on spark.”
I don’t know why this never occurred to me. I hadn’t even thought about how the workers got power. I guess I thought it came from food. That’s how we get power.
“And I bet it takes a lot of spark. Look at those carts, they don’t even have wheels.”
Yes, carts that hover instead of roll are unusual. But I’ve seen so many strange things over the past few weeks, I guess I just accepted it as normal now. Which is a terrible thing. Because it means I’m not paying attention. And now that I am, this thing with the workers needing spark to function—it’s unsettling.
“Don’t you think it’s weird?” I ask. “That spark is like a lifeforce? And that it powers things that aren’t alive?”
“You know what’s weirder than that?” Finn replies. “That we eat things. Like… living things. That’s weird. And when you think about it too hard, it’s kinda gross. Even if it’s just carrots. A carrot is alive. Even coffee beans are alive.”
“And sugar,” I say, picturing the pastries I used to yearn for when I was just a down-city girl coming up city for Little Sister etiquette lessons. Which feels like another life now.
“Yeah. Sugar too. That’s a plant. It comes from beets.”
“I think we should change the subject,” I say.
Finn laughs. “It’s weird though, right? That everything has to feed off of something.”
“Weird in a bad way. Ominous. Foreboding. Maybe even sinister.”
Finn just laughs. While we’ve been having this conversation, we’ve walked under the canal and crossed over to the other side. And while there are still puddles of water here, it’s not nearly as bad as the flooding on the train station side of things.
We make our way through various metal structures and past several dozen busy workers, until finally we find the stairs that lead up to the Little Sister dorm inside the Maiden Tower.
“Want a ride?” Finn asks, pointing to his back.
I do. I really do. I want to cling to him, and for him to cling back. I want to stop now. I want to get off this adventure and go home.
And there it is.
The truth.
This is what’s bugging me. I want to go home. And even though Finn telling me that this was the plan, after we’re done saving the factory cities from Extraction by blowing up towers, I hadn’t let myself dream about it.
And now I am.
I’m dreaming about home. I know my friends are gone—they all died when Gemna and I shattered the glass wall that I think was some kind of Looking Glass, but can’t be sure. And my Auntie—the traitorous bitch—also dead. Probably. Though I didn’t actually see it.
My mother and father stopped paying attention to me years back when I stopped paying attention to them.
But still.
I want to go home.
Immediately, self-loathing fills up the emptiness inside me. Why am I being such a baby? Why am I being so... stupid? This is not who I am. I am not emotional, or weepy, or senti—
Oh, shit.
Oh, no.
No. No, no, no.
This cannot be—
“Jasina?”
I blink and find myself looking straight into Finn’s eyes. “Yeah.”
He points to his back again. “Do you want a ride?”
I force a smile. “No. I’m good.” And then, before he can ask me what’s wrong—because clearly everything is wrong right now—I grab the railing and start climbing.
I know Finn hesitates because I count to five before I hear his footsteps following me up.
He’s getting worried. And I don’t blame him. We’re doing something very dangerous. Together. Meaning him and I. Meaning, partners. Meaning he’s counting on me and I’m… wavering. Overthinking. Retreating.
Oh, you wish that was all you were, Jasina Bell.
You wish.
I’m not weepy and homesick because I’m a coward.
I’m weepy and homesick because I’m… pregnant.
I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant. I’m pregnant.
My mind races with what-ifs, and second thoughts, and possibilities. I see everything that’s happened in the last several weeks, I see all that’s happening to us now, and then… I picture that life Finn’s been talking about. The scholar and his wife.
Correction. The scholar, and his wife, and child.
I picture a comfy cave with walls made of sandstone and floors covered in dirt soft enough to go barefoot. Flickering candles line the small room. There’s a makeshift kitchen, and a fire pit, and various iron cooking pots hanging from a rack. I picture sleeping in on top of a soft feather mattress under a pile of fluffy blankets. Finn Scott and I clinging to each other to keep ourselves warm during the cold nights.
I picture the ruins, or relics, or whatever it is we study down there. Finn’s excited concentration as he scribbles notes in some tattered book. He’s always covered in sand, but he smells like a promise of happiness. He looks at me, and my swelling belly, with longing and hope.