Deserts and Domes, by Kit Campbell

Deserts and Domes

Kit Campbell

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Globes of electric lights flickered overhead as Mia stepped into the ballroom, smoothing the pale green silk of her gown. Below her spun dozens of the Dome’s finest, dressed in their best, each trying to outshine the rest. Purple seemed to be the color of the evening. Mia must have missed the signs somewhere. Alas. Well, there was nothing to be done about it now, except to find some other way to blend in.

Deserts, how she did not want to be here. But it would not do to miss this, not after all the work she’d put into her persona, not after the sacrifices others had made to get her inside the Dome, not after the risks her “father” had taken. Matthew Ashwood stood beside her, resplendent in blues and greens, either also having not seen the signs for purple or, more likely, not caring.

After all, if he cared about Dome society, he would not have taken her in.

“Do you see him?” she asked, quietly, though she would not be heard over the music anyway. It came from all angles, amplified through speakers mounted on the walls. It was a waltz, scratching in a way live music never would, and its origins were unclear. Were there actual musicians hidden away somewhere? Some people could afford that, certainly, or justify attempting to, though there were very few musicians left. Probably it was a recording, or a recording of a recording.

Matthew leaned forward, resting his hands on the marble bannister and staring down at the crowd. “There,” he said, nodding toward the far corner of the ballroom. “The young man with the blond hair, in the purple.”

There were five people in that direction who met that description. Mia frowned, but managed not to glower at her accomplice. “Well,” she said. “Let’s get this over with. After you, Father.”

Matthew smirked slightly, but he offered her his arm in a fluid, practiced manner. “You know, old Mrs. Laurel came by for tea this afternoon. Absolutely livid, she was.”

“Oh? Whatever for?”

“Couldn’t believe I was marrying you off. Accused me of being behind the times, and of using you for my own gain.”

Mia could picture it. Mrs. Laurel was a stout, round woman who had lost all her hair decades ago and was not ashamed of that fact. Lovely woman, really. Mia wished she could recruit her, but Mrs. Laurel, even if she was sympathetic, was not subtle. And they needed subtle.

At least for now.

“What did you say to her?”

“Oh, some bluster about trying to provide for my only living child. I may have also pointed out that you hadn’t put up any sort of resistance to the idea.”

Mia had given up resistance a long time ago. If marriage was the next step in breaking the Domes and bringing relief to the deserts, then it had to be done. Matthew had found someone he said would be a good fit for their plans—young and well-connected, modern enough to not be domineering. A good place for Mia to influence society in the Domes and still have freedom to move around as necessary.

And tonight, she was to meet him.

Mia took a deep breath, preparing herself. She had to be charming and respectful, no matter how privileged and obnoxious he might be. It was for the greater good.

Matthew led her around the swirl of men in velvet and waistcoats and women in silk and feathers. Faux jewels sparkled at necks and wrists. Mia watched for a moment, then turned away, stomach churning. Such opulence, such waste. These resources could go to better uses.

The young, blond man apparently in question was in the back corner near one of the massive windows, surrounded by other young men. His blond hair was cut short and, as Mia and Matthew approached, he turned warm, hazel eyes toward them. Freckles dotted his nose and cheeks. No signs of the sickness in him. His eyes met hers, and Mia’s breath caught in her throat.

She slowly let her breath back out. No. She had to focus. He was a means to an end.

The man said something to his compatriots before stepping through them, meeting Mia and Matthew at the edge of the dance floor. “Ah, Mr. Ashwood. This must be your daughter.”

Matthew released Mia’s arm, pushing her gently forward. “Mr. Birch, may I present my daughter, Margaret Ashwood. Margaret, this is Seren Birch.”

Mia held her gloved hand out to Mr. Birch, dropping into the tiniest of curtsies. “A pleasure to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine.” Mr. Birch took her hand, leaning forward to kiss it. “Your father has done you a disservice, I’m afraid, Miss Ashwood. His words of praise do not do you justice.”

Ugh. Mia wanted to roll her eyes. She should have expected nothing less, despite the way his gaze had made her feel. The pampered brats here in the Dome always expected pretty words to smooth over anything the least bit unpleasant.

But this man was to be her husband, and she needed to work with—and around—him. So she smiled, ducking her head slightly. “You are too kind, sir.”

“Please, we are betrothed. It’s Seren to you, my dear.” Without relinquishing her hand, he pulled her up and tucked her arm around his. “Shall we go for a walk? They’ve attempted their hand at some flowers out back, though I’m sure the results are not at all natural.”

“Without a chaperone?” Mia glanced at Matthew, a weird, tingly feeling crawling up her abdomen.

“You do not need a chaperone anymore, darling,” Matthew said. “I shall meet you at the stairs in an hour. Have fun.” He bowed slightly to Mr. Birch—Seren—who returned the bow, and then her “father” turned and headed back into the mass of people, no doubt off to check out the drink offerings.

Mia’s heart dropped into her stomach. This was moving faster than expected. But it was all part of the plan. She just had to remember that.

Seren patted her hand. “You don’t have to look so scared,” he murmured. “I promise to be a gentleman.”

“I’m not scared,” she murmured, but if Seren heard her, he didn’t respond.

Seren led her to the back of the room and through a set of stained-glass doors into the garden beyond. Mia looked up automatically, though the dark metal of the dome structure disappeared into the night sky beyond.

“How do you think they’ve tried the flowers?” Seren asked her, drawing Mia’s attention back down to the world around her. “Wrought metal, like the Junipers? Fabric over stone? Or maybe—” He stopped short before the objects in question.

Mia’s own breath caught in her chest. They didn’t look manufactured. Green stems held brilliant red blossoms, delicate yet sturdy. She reached out, running a finger gently down one petal. It was warm and soft, even through her glove, but firmer than fabric. “Is it…is it real?”

A laugh came from behind them. Mia turned to find their host for the evening, Mr. Willow, clutching at the railing outside the house. “Lovely, isn’t it?” His words slurred together. “Real! Grown from the seed vault. Roses, they’re called.”

“How is that possible?” Seren asked sharply. Mia glanced at him, eyes wide, but quickly realized that Mr. Willow probably wouldn’t remember the conversation in the morning anyway. “Nothing grows anymore.”

Mr. Willow draped himself farther over the railing, almost tumbling over it. He winked, too obviously. “There are ways, Mr. Birch, there are ways, especially if one has enough money. Is there no problem that you can’t throw enough money at?” He laughed, turning and stumbling back into the twirling masses inside.

Bile crawled up Mia’s throat. The world outside reduced to endless deserts, and when someone finally managed to grow something, something real, they wasted it on decor and frivolity.

“Where do you think he got it?” she asked Seren, quietly, though, again, no one else would hear her. “Do you think there’s more?”

“Do you like it?” Seren took her other hand as well, pulling her to face him. “I swear to you, I’ll find out for you. If you’d like, we’ll have a whole garden full of real flowers.”

His eyes were so earnest—either he was sincere, or he had his front down to an art. Mia’s cheeks went pink as she gazed into those warm eyes. Matthew was right. Seren would be an excellent person to work around, if he would be so accommodating. She dropped her eyes, staring down at her skirts. “I would like to grow things of my own.” That was true enough, even if she meant outside, away from this pit of decay.

“Consider it done.” Seren raised her right hand to his mouth, caressing the back of her hand with a tender kiss.

Mia shivered.

#

A week later, Matthew accompanied Mia to Seren’s mansion to finalize wedding plans. In theory, Seren and Mia would make most of the decisions, but it was tradition for the bride’s father to be on hand, to coordinate payment. Mia had dressed in a rich blue gown, which she knew best enhanced her pale skin and dark hair. She felt a little ridiculous doing so, but she couldn’t get Seren’s eyes out of her head, or the feel of his lips through her glove.

This was a business arrangement. She needed to remember that. But it didn’t hurt to do her best to win him over.

Seren himself greeted them at the door. A butler hovered just inside, faint disapproval wafting off of him, but Seren paid him no mind. “Mr. Ashwood. Margaret. Please, come in, come in.”

Mia glanced at the butler as she took Seren’s offered hand and stepped into the foyer. When she was younger and had first come to the Dome, she’d spoken to Matthew about trying to recruit the servants to tear down Dome society from the inside, but he’d warned her off. The servants might not have the same access as those they served, but they still felt themselves better than those in the desert.

Seren leaned forward, again brushing his lips over the back of her hand, and heat rose to her cheeks. Beside her, Matthew smirked. Mia tried to discreetly glare at him without Seren noticing.

“I have a surprise for you,” Seren said. “Mr. Ashwood, if you’d like to get settled in the front parlor, we’ll just be a moment.”

“Of course.” Matthew followed the butler, still smirking. Mia frowned after him before turning her attention back to her betrothed.

Seren smiled widely, sending warmth through Mia. She swallowed. Focus. “A surprise? What is it?”

“Come and see.”

He led her through the marble foyer into a large, faux wood-paneled dining room. Several pairs of double doors led off the back. Seren headed toward the middle set, pushing the door open into a garden in the back. It consisted of the same fake plants that most mansions had, but in the middle, near a large fountain decorated with blue streamers to simulate water, was a small pot of dirt. And in that dirt was a tiny sprig of green, barely two inches tall.

Mia knelt, heedless of her skirts. “You got one! How did you do it?”

Seren dropped down beside her, a dark look crossing his face as he eyed the plant, but when he turned to her the look disappeared. “Mr. Willow was not wrong—you can throw money at any problem.”

“Did you get a seed? How is it growing?”

Seren laughed. “So many questions! I promise I will explain all in good time. Shall we go back to your father before he gets suspicious?”

He stood, offering her a hand back up. Mia took one last look at the plant—what did this mean, that things could grow again? And how could she get this out to the desert?—before taking Seren’s hand and rising back to her feet.

She would have Matthew look into this as well. He had more than enough money to throw at problems.

#

It was the night before her wedding when a knock came on her door. Mia sat in the window, watching the stars beyond the Dome. Tomorrow she would be Mrs. Birch, and move into the next part of her life. Seren was—he was more than she had hoped. Some part of her decried her deception, hated lying to him. But what could she do? It was a rough world out there beyond the protective barrier. Even though she had been inside for most of her life now, she could still remember it—remember the way all the moisture in your body would be sucked out if you were out in the sun, remember the way the sand got everywhere and never truly went away. She could remember the hunger, and the thirst, and the despair, knowing there was nothing better.

She would bring them hope.

Mia rose, crossing the room to the door. Matthew stepped inside as soon as she opened it, closing it behind him. His face was drawn.

“I looked into the plants for you.”

“What is it?” Mia had never seen this look on his face before. “Is it something terrible?”

Maybe they’d tapped into something that would destabilize the climate further, or even lead to the destruction of the planet. They did, from time to time, though generally whatever it was lost the Dome’s interest before the damage was too bad. But plants, true plants—they’d been lost for so long. They might never tire of them. Mia never would.

“It’s not just the plants,” Matthew said. “There are other new things too. Energy. Actual, sustainable energy. No more flickering lights. No more candlelight dinners to conserve power. I’m not quite sure how they’ve done it, but they have.”

“But that’s…that’s good news, surely? Less damage to what’s left.”

Matthew shook his head. “The lab that developed it is more than willing to sell the technology to the highest bidder and raise the price each time. Nothing surprising about that. But this…there’s already talk of expanding the Domes.”

Mia blinked, the words not sinking in for a moment. “Expanding the Domes?”

“We won’t need to conserve energy. Houses can get bigger. We can have more children, and they can have houses of their own.”

And the Domes would take more and more, and the people outside would be left with less and less.

“And, of course,” she said, “there will be no plans to share it outside the Domes, where people could actually use it.”

Matthew didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Mia turned away, taking a deep breath. These new things—plants, energy, who knew what else—could change the lives of the people outside. Maybe, maybe, they could even start to heal things. Water might still be a problem, but some could be found, deeper down. If things could grow, if there could be shade and green and energy, energy that didn’t take more from its surroundings, then just maybe…

Seren’s face, his warm eyes, flashed through her mind. It was too bad.

“You will make my apologies, won’t you?” she asked.

“I’ll say the sickness came for you.”

#

The lab was right where Matthew had said it would be. Mia pulled her scarf over her face, keeping to the shadows. The lab would be guarded, of course, but probably nothing she couldn’t—or hadn’t—dealt with before.

She wasn’t sure what she would find, or how much she would be able to take, but she would do what she could. Anything to help those suffering outside.

A light flickered overhead as Mia crept along the building, but there was no movement otherwise. She pulled her lockpick out of her pocket, readying it in her hand. The door had an electronic lock, which must have cost a fortune, but it wouldn’t slow her down. She set the lockpick on top and waited for it to find the right frequency.

It took a few minutes, but no one came, and finally the door opened with a click. Mia retrieved her lockpick, slipped it back into her pocket, and ducked inside, shutting the door tightly behind her.

Right. Now, to find the correct…

Mia’s thoughts trailed off as she turned to survey the corridor she was now in. A few steps away, a man—a guard—lay on his face, unmoving. Dead? Mia crept closer, but no, his chest was still moving.

Dread pooled in her abdomen. Leaving the guard behind, she hurried down the corridor.

There was another guard on the floor at the first junction, and two more as she got closer to the lab.

This could mean nothing good. Someone else had heard about this technology and had decided to take it for themselves. But who would do such a thing? Dome society tended to buy what they wanted, so they could brag how much money they’d spent on it. Stealing from the lab wouldn’t help in that regard, though it might be useful to a family that was failing. If they could control the technology, the other families would have to come to them.

Deserts, what a mercenary place this was. The door to the lab was just up ahead, and light spilled around the edges. Mia hoped she wasn’t too late, but she was willing to do what was necessary. She tied her scarf up so it would stay covering her face, then slid a thin dagger off her belt. She’d never used it before, but she knew the basics.

And, hopefully, whoever was in there didn’t, or wouldn’t notice her before she got her chance.

Mia pressed on the door. It creaked open slowly, quietly, revealing a room lined with machines, more metal than Mia had ever seen before. In the center was a massive metallic cylinder stretching from floor to ceiling. And between her and the cylinder was the other intruder, dressed in black and focused on something in front of him that Mia could not see.

Hopefully he’d stay distracted and Mia could put an end to him quickly. The man didn’t turn toward her as she got closer, raising her blade into a ready position.

But wait—he hadn’t hurt those guards, not permanently. Perhaps she was swinging too extreme. Maybe she could…

The man turned, revealing warm, hazel eyes that she knew all too well. Her knife clattered to the ground.

Seren blinked. “Margaret?”

“Seren.” She could hear the waver in her voice. “I don’t…what are…?”

He’d bought the plant for her already. Had he decided to come back and take the rest for himself, knowing no one would suspect? But that didn’t fit what she knew of him.

Or what she thought she knew of him. She presented a front—why couldn’t someone else?

“This isn’t…” He paused, running his hands through his hair. “I…oh, hang it. It isn’t fair.”

“What isn’t fair?”

He waved a hand at the cylinder. “Like we need more. Like we aren’t already drowning in luxury while the rest of the world burns. I’m not going to let that happen.”

Mia blinked, then hesitantly let down her scarf. “You’re…you’re taking it? Outside?”

Seren glowered behind him, where some sort of glowing panel was attached to the side of the cylinder. “Well, that’s the plan. Except it’s not working.” He glanced back at her, then at her abandoned knife. “Why are you here? Are you an assassin? I kind of thought you might be.”

A trickle of a laugh escaped her. “I came…I came for the same reason. To take this outside. To help those in the deserts.” Why was she telling him this? He could be lying to her. But if he was, what a lie to pick. It wasn’t one that would naturally come to most of those in the Dome. And those eyes held no deception. “I never imagined…”

He crossed to her, taking her hands in his. “Do you know what you’re doing? I admit I didn’t have a great plan. But I thought…when I heard what people wanted to do with this, I thought I’d do something, something selfless, and then I would maybe be worthy of you. And I would be able to marry you and feel like I deserved you. So I came tonight, but I don’t know where to go once I get—if I get—it out.”

Tears pricked the corners of her eyes, and a new warmth spread through her. “I do. I…I came from outside. I’m not Margaret Ashwood.” Seren blinked. Mia was afraid he’d pull away from her. “I mean, I have been for the last decade, but I wasn’t, not originally. Margaret died from the sickness. And I…I took her place.” She took a deep breath. “My name is Mia.”

Seren blinked again, his face a blank, and that warmth turned to ice. She’d done it now. Well, if her cover was blown, it didn’t matter. She would be gone before morning.

Then Seren smiled once more, warm and bright like the sun just inching over the horizon. “Mia. That’s a lovely name. Well, you come take a look, and maybe you’ll have more luck, and we can be out of here and hopefully still make it to our own wedding before anyone’s the wiser.”

Still make it to the wedding? Mia opened her mouth as he led her over to the console, then shut it again. Why not? Why couldn’t she stay with him, and work from inside, as she’d planned? It’s not like she had any more insight into how this worked than whoever would be waiting at the hand-off. Surely Matthew would have sent out a message so someone would be meeting her. Why couldn’t she just give everything over and then stay here?

She wouldn’t have to hide what she was from him. He would actively help her. And she could have that smile and those eyes to herself, every day.

The glowing panel turned out to be controls. Mia’s computer work was rusty, since most of the ones to be found were ancient, but the panel responded to her touch and seemed fairly straightforward. Instructions and schematics were included. They could do this.

Mia turned to Seren, turning her face up toward his and brushing her lips gently against his cheek. His blush made his freckles stand out even more.

“All right, Mr. Birch,” Mia said. “Let us hurry. It won’t do for us to be late.” Taking his hand in hers, she went to work.