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I spend most of the day in a fairly quiet mood. I rise early, follow my usual warm-up routines at the track, and then head to Batalla sector to organize my captains for their various city operations. Today I’m leading two of my best patrols to escort Anden during a meeting with Colonies’ delegates. We may not share the same apartment anymore, but that doesn’t change how fiercely I watch over his safety. He will always be my Elector, and I intend to keep it that way. Today, he and the Colonies are deep in the middle of discussions about the smooth immigration status along our border, where the United Cities have turned into flourishing areas with both Colonies and Republic civilians. What was once a hard dividing line between us now looks like a gradient. I look on from the sidelines as Anden shakes hands with the delegates and poses for photos. I’m proud of what he’s done. Slow steps, but steps nonetheless. Metias would’ve been happy to see it. So would Day.
When late afternoon comes, I finally leave Batalla Hall and head to a smooth, ivory-white building at the east end of Batalla Square. There, I show my ID at the entrance and make my way up to the building’s twelfth floor. I trace familiar steps down the hall, my boots echoing against the marble floors, until I stop in front of a four-square-inch tombstone marker with the name CAPTAIN METIAS IPARIS embedded in its crystal-clear surface.
I stand there for a while, then sit cross-legged before it and bow my head. “Hi, Metias,” I say in a soft voice. “Today’s my birthday. Do you know how old I am now?”
I close my eyes, and through the silence surrounding me I think I can sense a ghostly hand on my shoulder, my brother’s gentle presence that I’m able to feel every now and then, in these quiet moments. I imagine him smiling down at me, his expression relaxed and free.
“I’m twenty-seven today,” I continue in a whisper. My voice catches for a moment. “We’re the same age now.”
For the first time in my life, I am no longer his little sister. Next year I will step across the line and he will still be in the same place. From now on, I will be older than he ever was.
I try to move on to other thoughts, so I tell my brother’s ghost about my year, my struggles and successes in commanding my own patrols, my hectic workweeks. I tell him, as I always do, that I miss him. And as always, I can hear the whisper of his ghost against my ear, his gentle reply that he misses me too. That he’s looking out for me, from wherever he is.
An hour later, when the sun has finally set and the light streaming in from the windows fades away, I rise from my position and slowly make my way out of the building. I listen to some missed messages on my earpiece. Tess should be leaving her hospital shift soon, most likely armed with a slew of new stories about her patients. In the first years after Day left, the two of them stayed in close contact, and Tess would keep me constantly updated about how he was doing. Things like Eden’s improving eyesight. Day’s new job. Antarctican games. But as the years went on, their chatter grew less frequent, Tess grew up and into her own life, and gradually, their conversations dwindled to brief annual greetings. Sometimes none at all.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss her stories about Day. But still, I find myself looking forward to some dinner chatter with her and Pascao, who should be heading over from Drake University, probably eager to share his latest adventures in training cadets. I smile as I think about what they might say. My heart feels lighter now, a little freer after my conversation with my brother. My thoughts wander briefly to Day. I wonder where he is, who he’s with, whether he’s happy.
I really, sincerely, deeply hope that he is.
The sector isn’t busy tonight (we haven’t needed as many street police in the last few years), and aside from a few soldiers here and there, I’m alone. Most of the streetlights haven’t turned on yet, and in the gathering darkness I can see a handful of stars flickering overhead. The glow from JumboTrons casts a kaleidoscope of colors across the gray pavement of Batalla sector, and I catch myself walking deliberately underneath them, holding a hand out to study the colors that dance across my skin. I watch snippets of news on the screens with mild disinterest while skimming through my missed messages. The epaulettes on my shoulders clink softly.
Then I pause on a message Tess had left me earlier in the afternoon. Her voice fills my ears, full of warmth and playfulness.
“Hey. Check the news.”
That’s all she says. I frown, then laugh a little at Tess’s game. What’s going on in the news? My eyes return to the screens, this time with more curiosity. None of it catches my eye. I keep searching, looking for what Tess might have been talking about. Still nothing. Then . . . one small, nondescript headline, so brief that I must have been skipping over it all day. I blink, as if I might have misunderstood it, and read it again before it cycles out.
EDEN BATAAR WING IN LOS ANGELES TO INTERVIEW FOR BATALLA ENGINEERING POSITION
Eden? A ripple glides across the silence that has stilled me all day. I read the headline over and over again before I finally convince myself that they are indeed talking about Day’s younger brother. Eden is here to interview for a potential job.
He and Day are in town.
I look around the streets instinctively. They’re here, walking the same streets. He’s here. I shake my head at the little adolescent girl who has suddenly woken up in my heart. Even after all this time, I hope. Calm down, June. But still, my heart sits in my throat. Tess’s message echoes in my mind. I return to walking down the street. Maybe I can find out where they’re staying, just get a glimpse of how he’s doing after all this time. I decide to call Tess back once I’ve reached the train station.
