Her mother sat at the kitchen table, her shoulders slumped. Sorrel saw the small hump on her spine that indicated her age, and she felt a flutter of fear in her chest.

Although Bibi had only been a child at the time of the Convergence, all the mid-century anger at the people who had ignored the signs of the coming crisis were directed – even now – at anyone over forty. Sorrel’s Grammy had been beaten in the street more than once simply because she was of that time. People always need someone to blame, Grammy had said, blood trickling down her jawline.

“Stop daydreaming,” Bibi said, holding out a cup of aloe tea and a bar of alganola. Sorrel loathed the bars, convinced you could taste the jellyfish in them. She joined Bibi at the table and booted up their PlAK.

“Don’t get crumbs on the keyboard,” Bibi said, rising to her feet. “See you later, One. Try to nap at breaktime.”

Sorrel grunted, avoiding her mother’s tired eyes and the furrow between her eyebrows. They were lucky; her mother had an in-person job at the tech centre, fixing the few old-time computers left. She was jealous of her mother’s contact with people. It was that job that had gifted them the PlAK, by far their most valuable possession, with its access to websites, chat rooms and satellite feeds.

Today was payday. Maybe Bibi would be paid in skynuts. They were better than foodcards and were a good source of protein. The skynut trees had been brought to Bajacu by some long extinct migratory bird, and they had flourished, while every other type of tree thinned out and died.

She rubbed her eyes. She had a Math test today. She had turned fourteen two days ago and had made herself a birthday promise: one day, she would find a place where it was possible to sleep in the dark and go outside all day when it was light.

CHAPTER 2 – BANA CITY

At 0400 hours, school finished. Sorrel rose and stretched. Her legs felt numb and the house closed in around her. Her mother would be back from work in an hour. She checked the water tank in the corner of the kitchen – about halfway down. Two more nights before water was delivered. Their house had a cistern from the old days, but the water truck’s pipe couldn’t reach it. The tank filter was dirty, and she should clean it, but it was hard to clean anything without using precious water. She replaced the cover. Maybe tomorrow. At least school was over and she could go online and talk to Sesame.

“A Tribal girl was captured by the Domins. Last week. She was scavenging near the mountains near where the Toplanders live,” Sesame wrote, the words coming up like bubbles on the PlAK’s screen.

“Everyone scavenges,” tapped Sorrel, using a string of emojis to show her disdain. “She could have been any Bana girl!”