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…