Enduring Aella

Episode Two | That's How They Getcha

After the last power grid collapse, most commercial and residential buildings had been redesigned to conserve energy. Ceilings had been lowered, windows boarded up, and most rooms split into thirds or quarters. So big events, like the ones my mother had spoken at, were typically held outdoors. Baking under the hot sun during the day, or fighting off swarms of mosquitos at night, had been preferable to cramped, poorly ventilated interior spaces.

By comparison, the waiting room was cavernous—sprawling at least a hundred feet deep and nearly as wide. It felt like walking into a dream. Despite being crammed with rows of chairs, and almost as many people, the room was bright and airy. Soft light filtered through recessed skylights, and a cool mist blew in from overhead vents, carrying the scent of fresh grass and ripe melons—more vibrant, more alive than any air freshener or candle.

It smelled of real grass and real melons. I took a deep breath, and then another, my lungs ridding themselves of musty city air. My head spun with the pleasure of it.

I braced myself against the wall, my fingers brushing against the cool glass of a Zen display. The screens, disguised as windows, lined the walls, showcasing the awe-inspiring beauty of the future. They showed a lush forest, stretching for miles, with trees, actual trees, not the scraggly shrubs I was used to. A wide, meandering river cut through the middle, its clear blue-green water sparkling in the sunlight. In the distance, majestic white-stone mountains stretched across an impossibly blue sky.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

An elderly man with cloudy brown eyes and wisps of white hair looked up at me from his chair. He grinned, his eyes crinkling into countless folds. "Don't be embarrassed. My granddaughter and I have been here all morning." He gestured to a young woman with bright pink, pixie-cut hair. "Everyone needs a minute when they walk in. It's quite a sight if you weren't prepared."

I shook my head, trying to break the spell, but the screen drew me back in. It was more than I had hoped, so much more than I could have imagined. I tried to speak, but my words were air—breathy and voiceless.

The old man leaned toward me, cupping his ear. "What was that?"

I dragged my gaze from the screen. "Is it real? Is that what Aella looks like?"

He chuckled. "That's what they say, though I'm sure it'll be more settled by the time you get there—assuming you sign in before you miss your chance." He pointed to the virtual queuing system. "The line's getting long. You might want to hurry."

I thanked him and made my way to the queue, laying my palm against the screen. It flashed, then displayed my name and an unflattering photo I didn't remember taking. My heart sank when the number "289" lit up the screen.

I was in for a long wait. I absently rubbed my wrist, missing the long list of audiobooks stored on my NetBand. Perhaps I had been a bit hasty in removing it.

With no open seat in sight, I joined a group of floaters wandering up and down the aisles. At first, they seemed to drift aimlessly, but then I noticed their eyes—darting back and forth, constantly scanning for an empty chair.

I fell in with them, and before long, I was doing the same—circling the room, waiting for a chance to snag a seat. My feet ached, and the boredom was mind-numbing. Faces blurred together as I moved, each one indistinguishable from the next.

For the most part, the room was quiet. People murmured to one another, careful not to disturb their neighbors. Some were plugged into their NetBands—listening to music or audiobooks—while others slept, their gentle snores blending with the ever-present hum of the air filters.