The Burn Read Online Free PDF Page A

Practically identical to real
sunlight except that it won’t end in a supernova. That has to be
better, right? Maybe I should try to like it. Maybe I’ll go tonight
and give it one last try. I probably don’t have very many days left
until my Burn exploration begins, so I better make sure I know what
I’m doing.
    Then she grows quiet. “And maybe you should stick
with it for Dad.”
    I snort. “Yeah, right. Dad gives me as hard a time as
he can. Why would I make it easier on him?”
    Jessa is suddenly busy with her hair, not looking at
me. “You know it’s hard on him every time you do something like
this. He just thinks he’s a failure. That if Mom were still here,
you’d be fine.”
    I sit electrified. I’ve noticed the way Dad cries,
the way he consoles himself by talking to someone who will never
talk back to him. But I’m hardly concerned. He brought it on
himself. But then a sliver of guilt pricks my heart. Dad lets the
grief eat himself from the inside out. The devil in me wants to
tell her why he cries so much about it. But I can’t.
    I sit up. “You’re right. I’ve got to go.”
    Jessa’s eyes can meet mine again. “What? But what are
you going to wear?”
    “The red one’s great,” I say as I leave.
    Dad looks over from the monitor as I make for the
front door. Several other colony councilors are on the screen. He
mutes the discussion.
    “Where are you going?”
    “Umm, just to the pod at Field #3. I left something
there this afternoon.”
    “It can’t wait until tomorrow?”
    “No, it’s important.”
    Dad checks his watch. “Okay, but be quick. You need
to clock in for bed in forty-five minutes.”
    I nod and hurry out the door.
    The corridors are quiet. Most colonists are inside
for the night. A few stragglers come off the transport, and most of
them eye me with surprise as I hurry by. They all know who I am, of
course. Everyone knows who I am. My dad is the speaker, so there
are countless times I’ve been seen with him at official functions.
And I am a twin. That stands out in people’s minds too. And my
mother left us. That’s the stain that nabs me the most glances. I
can just imagine what people think. We strive for peaceable
living. So why did the speaker’s wife run out on him? If only
they knew. It is a dirty secret I am too ashamed to tell. Maybe
that’s part of the reason I am so eager to get out of here. Too
many secrets, too many things to hide. Too many times Dad tried to
overcompensate for being the only parent. With the ocean pressing
down on me, it feels like it could bury everything under its
weight. The Burn feels more exposed—more honest.
    The transport doors gape wide open and the transport
is empty. This is the last transport back to the vocational
quarter, and then one more transport back to the living quarter to
arrive at 21:55, just in time for me to clock in before bed. I
glance at my watch—perfectly synchronized with the clock on the
transport—and tell myself not to miss it. I can’t imagine how much
trouble I’ll be in if I don’t make it home for curfew.
    The door slides closed behind me, and the voice comes
on, “Last transport to the vocational quarter. Upon exiting, you
will have thirty minutes before the last transport leaves for the
living quarter.”
    The transport jumps up the tube and whisks me toward
the vocational quarter. I feel a rush of adrenaline. Pathetic, I
know. But I’ve never been on this last transport. I gaze out the
clear sides. The transport enters part of the tube that runs next
to the ocean, and I stare at the blackness. Am I really considering
leaving? Even though all this monotony is really grating on me,
this is home. It is unchanging. Reliable.
    And black. Much too black. Black surrounds me all the
time. Sure the artificial lights cut through the dark, but if those
go out, there would be nothing to guide me. One of the first things
I learned when Dad was teaching me to use a submarine was to check
and double check