A black square grows in the distance: the exit, a dark portal to the surface. Glacia accelerates, just as eager to end this monotonous drive as I am. The exit grows larger—and then darkness surrounds us. Strips of light trace the Main Throughway as it curves south toward Horizon Tower’s distant outpost. In the mirror, the tunnel shrinks away until it too is swallowed by the night. I can’t tell how far we drive, but Glacia eventually slows down and glides to the side of the road.

“We’re almost there.”

“Almost?”

“We have to walk a bit.”

I get out of the car and stand on the edge of the Main Throughway, but no farther. My feet stay rooted to the platform. The ground lies six inches below my feet. I can smell it: the dirt and the dust and the death. The wind scrapes against the cracks and crevices. Dust sticks to my lips.

Glacia watches me closely, her face half-hidden in shadow. The other half is illuminated by the glow of the Kairos supernova, which hasn’t sunk below Undil’s northern horizon the entire week.

“Need a push?”

I shake my head. “I’m just—”

Glacia shoves me. I fall forward and kick up a cloud of dust. It swarms my nostrils and scratches my lungs, and I start coughing and spitting it out. Glacia ignores me and hops of the platform. She strides by, her steps muffled by the dirt.

“This way,” she says with a playful bounce in her voice.

I keep my mouth shut and follow her, keeping my eyes off her back. Just this morning, she apologized for slamming me to the ground. Now here she is, practically suffocating me. Glad to see she’s so sincere. And what could be so important that she has to drag me away from the Embassy? There are no buildings, no paths, no people. The supernova’s glow illuminates the faint silhouettes of massive mesas and Horizon Tower’s launch outpost. Nothing else.

Yet, somehow, the farther I walk, the weaker my resentment becomes. Something about this quiets my mind. There’s no pressure. No noise. No crowds to toss me around.

I turn around to see how far we’ve gone: the lights on the road are tiny specks.

Glacia spreads her arms. “How about here?”

I stop walking. A chill runs up my spine. I’m acutely aware of one thing: the silence. It’s not the silence of an empty room, or the pause in a conversation. This silence seeps into me. Calms me. I can feel every fiber of who I am, just as I can feel the wind passing through my hair. Out here, there is nothing. No honking cars, no pounding footsteps, no towers or flashing lights. The ground beneath my feet is all but abandoned.

When she next speaks, Glacia’s voice seems as distant as the horizon.