5
Kaiya twirled strands of marashta with her fork as she sat on a dining room alcove gazing out the window. More people had begun to venture outside, and the glowstone sidewalks were preparing themselves for another night of labour as late afternoon morphed into twilight. How many of the people down there would heed Amelia’s call? How far had her message gone in one day?
Tilda eyed her from the dining table. She had already finished her marashta, the thinnest hint of leftover sauce coating the biodegradable container, and devoured a newscast on her tablet. Apparently people still sold daily newscasts door to door – at least, the trend had returned thanks to the Network’s destruction.
“I want you to come with me tonight,” Kaiya said.
Tilda’s face fell. “I really don’t want to…”
“But wh
