3 - CLARA

CHAPTER THREE

A n hour later I'm dressed and alone, standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom. If one were standing in the God's Tower looking down the central canal of Tau City, the Maiden Tower would be on the right bank and the Extraction Tower would be on the left.

So my view, looking out my windows, is of the canal and the Extraction District on the other side of it. Of course, the Extraction Tower dominates that view. But everything behind the tower is just as gorgeous because that's where you'll find all the many terraced neighborhoods built up along the sides of the rocky, desert cliffs.

Most of the buildings along the slope have square or rectangle-shaped main levels and a dome on top—which are decorative and a point of pride for everyone in the city. Especially when you're walking the wall and get a good look at them all. Tau City is exquisite from all angles, even down-city. But from the wall, from the air, from the bird's eye view—it's like looking down on perfection.

Some of the domes are deep and tall, while others are shallow or nearly flat, more like caps. Some of them are the color of the plaster—bone, or buff, or sand. But most are dull, sun-bleached shades of light blue. A few domes are trimmed in fancy hand-painted tiles, but most are ringed with thin, gold circles.

Not all the buildings are this shape though. Some are tall cones, almost obelisk-like, and mimic the shape of the sandstone formations that poke up from the desert landscape on the other side of the city walls, beyond our sheltered valley between the hills.

Even if I tried, I doubt I could dream up a more beautiful city. Of course, I have nothing to compare it to since the world beyond our walls ceased to exist more than a thousand years ago, after the wind took over the world and covered it in sand.

We call that event the Great Sweep, a time of extreme chaos that necessitated building protective walls around the city. First, to prevent the sands from covering us all up. But then, after the winds died down, it was to protect us from the predators that seemed to be everywhere, all at once. Very dangerous creatures that wanted to eat us.

That's why we needed the wall.

But no one thinks about that story very much anymore. It was so long ago. And not a single person, myself included, has ever seen anything on the other side of the wall but sand dunes and far-off mountains.

There are no monsters who want to eat us.

But no reason to go beyond the wall, either. Because we're all that's left. The last city standing after the Great Sweep covered the world in sand.

In school—before I pledged myself to the god in the tower and my life turned into one long stream of lessons in etiquette, and culture, and tradition, and spark—I learned a little bit about why the Great Sweep happened. It had something to do with the speed of rotation of far-off planetary bodies and how they interacted with our planet and moons. I don't remember all the details, but I do know there were five moons before the Great Sweep and now there are only three.

A fascinating fact, in and of itself, but the historical bits that always piqued my interest the most were how my ancestors were able to harness the spark inside us and use it to make fantastic things. Like trains. There used to be train stations and trains where there is now desert. But all that old spark tech is in ruins and mostly covered by the dunes, which covers just about everything outside the walls of our little oasis.

There is nothing visible to the naked eye outside our little valley rimmed in towering red rock formations except sand dunes and a faint, rippling outline of mountains in the distance. I've never seen a stranger come to the wall asking to be let in.

And while there have not been any exploratory expeditions across the sand in my lifetime, there were hundreds in the early days, just after the Great Sweep.

No one ever came back. So… maybe they found a better place out there? Or, more likely, they just died.

It's just us. We're the last.

Our spark, the power that runs our city, comes from the god in the tower now.

He keeps us safe.

He keeps us fed and watered.

He keeps us happy and healthy.

And that's why, when the god in the tower demands Maidens come to him every ten years to keep us all alive, we send those Maidens right on in.

It's just one girl. And she's a volunteer, isn't she?

One girl in exchange for safety and spark to power the greenhouses and field irrigation so we can all eat? One girl in exchange for hot water and forced-air heating during the frigid nights? One girl in exchange for peace of mind so that we, the people of Tau City, might live long lives enriched in comforts and culture?

Yes. We all agree it's worth it. That's why there are seventy-five Little Sisters living in the Maiden Tower dorm at this very moment.

Of course, all of us enter this little arrangement thinking we'll be number two, don't we? Or ten, as it stands right now. None of us ever come in thinking we'll be number one.

Still, I have to take my hat off to Imogen Gibson. She didn't even squeal. Didn't even break her smile when her name was called as our number one. And that same night, as the bells were ringing, she stood in front of that massive black door that leads into the God's Tower with her back straight and her chin up and her spark on full display. It was so bright, it could light up the world.

And while the ritual is terrifying in the moments leading up to midnight on Extraction Day, after Imogen walked through, and the bells stopped ringing, and all the power shortages in up-city ceased to exist, and all the coffee machines worked perfectly once more, and the lights stopped flickering, and the elevators stopped skipping, and the faucets had hot water once again—we, the good people of Tau City, forgot our fear and started, once again, to count our blessings.

Because the spark from just one girl was enough to set things right.

Or so we thought.

Then the bells rang again, two years later, eight years early, and it was a shock. But we did have warnings. Nothing massive, but there were small signs. Machines struggled to work, lights crackled and dimmed, and a few heaters in the orchard gave out, causing an apple shortage that fall.

Well , we all thought. Maybe the city has grown too much and we've been demanding more spark from the god than we thought?

Yes, surely that was the problem.

So in went Spark Maiden number two—Marlowe Hughes—and all spark to up-city was strictly metered so we could keep track of what we used.

Three (mostly uneventful) years later, when the bells rang again, people were thoroughly confused. The metering worked. People conserved spark. We were using less than ever. And there were no signs of shortages. Everything was working just fine as far as anyone could tell.

So why was the god in the tower demanding yet another Spark Maiden?

Of course, Maiden number three—Mabel Paice, not to be confused with Maiden number five, Mabel Shaw—went in. This time things got worse. And the bells rang again just two weeks later. So in went Lucy Fisher.

Lucy Fisher was the breaking point for the people of Tau City. Two Spark Maidens in one decade? Weird, but OK. It had happened before.

Four, though?

No. No, no, no. This was abnormal. Something was very wrong. People panicked.

But, as one does when over time strange things return to normal, they forgot about it. When there were no more requests from the tower, we moved on with our lives, content that whatever the problem was, it had been fixed. This is what people do when times are good. No one wants to think about the bad times when nothing is wrong. What is the point of that?

There was no rhyme or reason for the next three called in—Mabel Shaw, Piper Adley, and Brooke Bayford. It was two years, then seven months, then eight months.

Brooke was the last and it's been over a year now. With just three months left of our service, Haryet, Gemna, and I can't help but hold our breath. It's been tense. But today feels… different. Like we've turned a corner.

To us, these Little Sisters are like a salvation.

We're going to make it .

And when I look at myself in the mirror, wearing this spectacular, handmade gala gown, it's enough to convince myself it's true.

"Are you ready?"

I turn and find tiny Haryet standing in my bedroom doorway all dressed up in her equally spectacular gown. It's also made of glimmering champagne silk, the highest-quality linen, and hand-blown glass beads. But it's shaped a little different, has a light blue sash that crosses her breasts, and more skirt layers than mine.

"You look stunning, Haryet."

She smiles and curtsies to me, lifting her skirts up as she bows her head. "So do you!"

"So do we all." I look past Haryet and find Gemna wearing her own version of our gowns.

She models for us, lifting up a hand to showcase her hair as she turns her head and cocks a hip. "Fab, right?"

We agree, laughing and smiling. But when that's done, there's a moment when we all go a little somber.

This is not the end. We're close, but not there yet. There are dozens of galas just like this one in our near future.

It just feels a little bit… final , for some reason.