Page 36 of The Last Hope
“What is this room?” Court asks me.
I stay on the opposite side of the pool. Giving them space to explore this part, and I track their intrigue to the tile beneath their boots. Pieces of fine, lightweight artificial marble create an intricate mosaic, and oak benches hug the walls.
“The atrium,” I say. “Crew lounges here. Similar to your parlors.”I’m assuming.
Franny skims her fingers along the wispy midnight-blue curtains that drape along arched doors. “This is nothing like a parlor. It’s more like a common room.”
Close enough, I guess.
Our eyes meet across the pool, walking with unhurriedness. I motion to the closed rooms along each side. “Crew barracks are here.”
She stares too hard at the next towering archway. Silver flowing drapes sweep the floor and conceal the other side. Light streaks through little star-shaped holes in the fabric.
Put them to bed.
Yeah, I thought that would be easy.
“I’ll show you to your beds,” I continue, “you can wash—”
“What’sthatnoise?” Mykal cuts in and whips his head around, searching for the source of the faint croaks of bullfrogs and chirps of crickets.
I tip my head. “Lions, tigers, and bears.” I flash big mocking eyes at him, but I’m positive he won’t catch the joke. “Oh my.”
Franny notices, though, and shoots me a fiery scowl.
Mykal peers calmly at me. “Your lion sounds like it’s choking on your bear.”
I let out a short laugh.He’s not afraid of a lion or a tiger or abear.I’m glued in surprise, and to unglue my bloody self I laugh again and say, “It was a joke.”
“A bad one,” Franny snaps.
I smile wryly and explain the bullfrog and cricket noises. Adding, “It’s electronic.”
Mykal groans. “Is anythin’ real?” He kicks the leg of a wooden bench that breaks.
“That was,” Court says plainly. He’s been quietly studying the stained-glass patterned walls, along with framed motion-picture portraits. Still examining the photos, he asks, “And these are?”
“Pictures. You have films on Saltare-3; these are similar. Think of them as tiny movies on one-minute loops.” I catch a glimpse of one nearest me.
Grayscale, the motion-picture portrait showcases three young guys and four girls in military skirts, seven jets parked behind them. Laughing, pride sparkling their eyes, they applaud each other and hug.
I read the etched inscription on the silver frame: CLASS OF3017.Every portrait is of C-Jay academy graduations.
Mine is hung in the dining hall.
Quickening my pace, I cut off Franny from potentially racing through the silver-draped archway. She skids to a halt a few feet from me. Skepticism bunching her brows.
“Heya, I know this animal.”
Our heads turn.
Mykal gestures to the mosaic tiles. Brown and beige pieces depict a furry, tusked creature. “Woolly mammoths, aren’t they? I heard stories.”
“As did I,” Franny chimes in. “My mother used to say they went extinct on our planet because of the Great Freeze.”
Lord have mercy.I only realize Court is watching meafterI’ve already made a face like these two are discussing flying pigs.
“Unlucky beasts.” Mykal bends and touches the marble. “Pelts woulda been nice during a blizzard.”
