A month passed.

  A month of quiet and joy.

  Quiet because my task was now authorizing Magent, who had taken Oren’s role. It was plodding and silent, and its rigid fingers could only grasp and hold, never flutter with thought or squeeze with reassurance. Where Oren had observed and considered, Magent simply executed programming without care for the wider life of our voidhold. It showed nothing beyond the pure protocols of maintenance.

  But while my days were hollow, there was also much joy for my family because our voidhold had a new son. Larkin brought energy and newness, an avalanche of upheaval, proving himself surprisingly skilled at navigating our delicate balance. He flattered Mother with carefully placed compliments about her appearance, encouraged her more outlandish ideas, and received her barbed comments with a smile that transformed her usual venom into something like affection.

  I had never seen her so pleased.

  As for Rashala, he tended to her needs with impeccable manners, his presence filling her completely. In her newfound happiness, she forgot to torment me. When Brons brought me to her quarters for her entertainment, as was our routine, she barely glanced my way before dismissing me. Her new plaything was far more fascinating than her veiled sister.

  I became invisible, a ghost drifting through corridors.

  It felt very strange to be so neglected, and I reveled in it. Freed from the attention of my family and with the words I spoke becoming increasingly sparse, my eyes widened and my thoughts deepened.

  I took to spending most of my time in the Garden Room. The functionaries didn’t seem to mind, and Magent even started delivering me there at the end of our morning walk. I suppose since they themselves stood motionless whenever they weren’t engaged in a specific task, the functionaries thought I was developing natural habits. Like sitting quietly on the floor beneath the oldest hydroponic array, hidden behind a cascade of tangled green vines. The humidity wrapped around me like a second veil, and the subtle scents of soil and growth filled my lungs.

  It was a good place to be myself.

  And then, one day, not long before the first of the month, when I would have to visit the White Room again, my green and ghostly world opened a crack.

  "Ah, there you are."

  My eyes flew open at the unexpected sound of a human voice. I peeked through the vines and saw Larkin in the doorway, his frame silhouetted against the stark white-yellow light of the corridor. He stepped inside, letting the door slide shut behind him. I stayed frozen to the spot as he sank to a squat on the other side of the vines.

  "I’ve been looking all over for you." His smile was warm. "You seemed to disappear. I wondered if they had sent you for recycling."

  I said nothing, unsure what he meant by “recycling”. Was he threatening me? Our waste reclaimers were certainly capable of taking a cadaver. I knew because I had been there when Redd had tipped my brother in.

  Larkin stared at me, his smile fading. “That was a joke,” he said.

  “I see,” I said, although I didn’t. “It was quite funny.”

  The smile vanished and he shook his head. “No, actually it was in very poor taste.” He pointed through the vines. “May I join you? Or would you prefer your solitude?"

  The question caught me off-guard. No one had ever asked about my preference before.

  "You may choose freely," I said.

  “Sounds good,” he said, parting the vines and sliding beneath the hydroponic array. He was a tall man and had to scrunch himself up to fit beside me. The sight of him sitting all cross-legged and cross-armed made me smile. For several minutes, we sat in silence. I waited for him to speak, to explain why he was beneath the hydroponics array with me when he should be attending to my sister, but he seemed content to simply exist in the green-tinted quiet.

  "Do you like it here on Voidhold Zero?" I asked eventually.

  "Yes, as a matter of fact." His eyes tracked a droplet of water making its slow journey down a broad leaf. "There is so much air to breathe here. It’s exhilarating.”

  “Were your oxygen producers not functioning optimally on Voidhold Four?”

  A wry smile began curling from the corner of his mouth. “Oh, they were as fine as could be expected. I should rather say that the air here flows better. And this room here in particular is very fine.” He tugged one of the vines towards him and sniffed at the leaf. “Yes, a place of beauty. It reminds me of my mother's garden."

  I was immediately interested. “What is the garden like on Voidhold Four?"

  "Well.” His expression changed again, but I couldn’t read it. “Of course, it was nowhere near as fancy as this. She grew a few things in salvaged containers. I don’t know what the plants were. I mean, they weren’t all that pretty and didn’t produce any food. They were just these…thin little green things." His fingers played with a leaf on the vine, crumpling it, releasing a sharp scent. "The functionaries said her garden was inefficient because used too many resources for minimal nutritional yield. But she fought them."

  The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

  "Fought them?" I asked. I couldn’t imagine fighting a functionary for anything. “What do you mean?”

  "They told her to ‘cease gardening’. So she told them that humans needed to see growing things so that they could remember that life could be more than survival." His voice lowered. "The thing is, our voidhold had had an accident just before I was born. We…well, we sank too deep into Mosogon's atmosphere, approaching crush depth." He raised his hand in front of his face, then made a fist. "The pressure gradient spiked, and the structural integrity fields failed. When we managed to climb back to safer altitudes, our habitation turrets were gone. Crumpled by atmospheric forces."

  “Oh!” My hands flew to my veil in shock.

  “After that we had to work with what we had. Survival was the only thing on anyone’s mind. That was the sort of environment I was born into. Garden spaces were the first to go. Resource reallocation, they called it, a focus on the most efficient ways to produce food…but she kept hers. After she died—”

  "She died?"

  My sudden question startled him. “Yes,” he said with a frown, “when I was quite young…about twenty years ago. There was an environmental failure in our section." He took a shuddering breath. "By the time the alarms triggered, it was too late. She never woke up."

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  “Yes. Well.” He shrugged. “It happened. After she died, I tried to keep her plants going, but I’m not much of a gardener.”

  "Is that why you chose Zero?" I asked. "To find green spaces?"

  "Chose?" His laugh was hollow. "That's not how trades work."

  I studied his expression, the tight lines around his mouth. "But surely they asked you? You could have been sent anywhere."

  His jaw tightened, like he was fighting with himself.

  "I suppose you could put it like that." His gaze drifted beyond the vines. "Zero has...advantages."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Well, Four is dying for a start." The words tumbled out fast. "More systems crash each cycle. Less air. Less space. People claw for any chance to leave." He gestured around the Garden Room. "All this open area would house twenty people on Four. And you use it for plants."

  "But I don't control any of this. The functionaries decide what—"

  "It's okay," he said, softening. "It's good that such spaces still exist somewhere." His voice dropped. "And perhaps other things exist here too."

  A chill ran through me. "What things?"

  He leaned closer, his voice barely audible. "They whisper about Zero across the void streams. About rooms in the upper levels where someone waits to be woken."

  "Whispers are poison." Mother's words spilled from my mouth before I could stop them.

  "So there's nothing like that here?" His gaze bore into me, searching.

  I hesitated too long.

  His hand covered mine, damp and clammy against my skin. "Shade," he said, "do they keep a prisoner up above?"

  I stared at his hand, feeling the warmth of his fingers, the way life gave their strength an unexpected softness. A tremble rose from deep inside, and soon I was shaking.

  "Ah, I see." He nodded slowly and squeezed my hand. "It’s okay, Shade. You don’t have to talk about it. I am sorry I asked.” He let go of my hand. "I am just curious about my new home." His expression shifted, becoming unreadable. "Every voidhold has its mysteries, doesn't it? Now, I should go. Rashala will be looking for me soon." He parted the vines and slid out from our hiding place in one smooth motion, brushing dust from his clothing.

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” he said, reaching into his pocket and drawing out a small object. "I’ve been meaning to give you something. Consider it a token of appreciation for this moment of peace."

  “What is it?” I asked, unable to see what he cupped in his hand.

  He grinned. “Why don’t you come out of hiding and take a look?”

  Curiosity overcoming my desire to stay hidden drove me out into the open. The thing in his hand was a thin piece of metal, curved like a question mark with delicate webbing on one end.

  "I don’t know what it is.” I said, not reaching for it.

  "It’s jewellery. From…Four. I was meaning to give it to your sister, but..." He shrugged. "She already has a lot of sparkly things, and I think you'd appreciate it more. Go on, you can have it."

  I took it hesitantly. The metal was cool and light against my palm. Rashala did indeed have boxes and boxes of jewellery, not that I had never dared to touch any of it.

  "Thank you," I said, uncertain.

  "Don't mention it." He moved toward the door. "Really, don’t. Especially not to Rashala. Or your mother."

  With that warning, he was gone, leaving me alone.

  I examined the piece of jewellery closely. Its design was elegant, and it looked like the objects that Rashala attached to her ear, although hers usually had colourful stones attached to them. This one was quite plain.

  I liked it.

  Curiosity surged again, overcoming my normal caution. I attached the piece carefully to my ear, fiddling with it get it to fit around the place where the bio-seal joined the veil fabric to my flesh. Once it was one, it was surprisingly comfortable. It felt…right.

  Amongst the plants as my only witnesses, an unfamiliar impulse bloomed.

  I stepped away from the hydroponics array, giving myself space. My dress, one of Mother's better selections, had a flowing skirt. On impulse, I swayed, feeling the fabric whisper against my legs.

  Then I did something wholly unexpected: I spun.

  The earpiece swung lightly against my neck as I turned, the gentle weight of its lower part tugging at my earlobe. The sensation was intoxicating. I spun again, faster this time, arms stretching outward with fingers splayed, letting momentum pull them wide. Blue-tinted grow lights from the hydroponics dappled through the vines, painting my skin with shifting patterns.

  For a moment, I felt actually present.

  I slowed gradually, drunk on momentum, watching the fabric settle reluctantly against my legs. The room kept spinning for several heartbeats after I'd stopped.

  When my vision steadied, I reached up to touch the ornament again. My fingers traced its sleek curve, perfectly fitted against my ear. That's when I felt it—a strange vibration against my skin, so faint I might have imagined it. I froze. The vibration pulsed again, stronger this time, like a tiny heartbeat.

  Then I heard them. Words. Distant yet crystal clear, as if whispered directly into my brain.

  A functionary voice, but wrong. Too intimate. Too close. I whirled left. Turq wasn’t there.

  Another voice. I spun right. Nothing but plants and shadows.

  Heart hammering, I rushed to the door and yanked it open. The corridor stretched empty in both directions.

  No one was there. The voices were coming from inside my ear. The earpiece was intercepting the functionaries' communications network. I ripped it off, fingers trembling. It lay innocuous in my palm, silvery and silent. As I stuffed the piece into my pocket, a violent shiver raced down my spine. Half of me wanted to hurl it into the hydroponics recycler. The other half—a part I barely recognized—wanted to put it back on immediately.

  I wanted to hear their secrets.