“Can I start today?”
He shook his head. “If you hurry, you might catch the tail end of a shift, but by the time you’re processed, it’ll be time to go home. Start fresh in the morning. Trust me.”
His “trust me” didn’t feel like reassurance so much as a challenge.
I tried the ring on my thumb, but it wouldn’t fit. “I think it’s too small.”
He leaned forward, his eyes sharp, but not unkind. “Here, the clamp. Open it.” He showed me, his touch brief, businesslike.
I adjusted the ring, slid it onto my thumb, and snapped the clasp shut just as Hayden started to say something.
He let out a quiet breath. “Once that clamp’s closed, the ring won’t come off.”
I froze, suddenly hyperaware of the cold band locked around my thumb. “Wait. You meanpermanently?”
He nodded, watching me. “Until you get it officially removed. There’s a process. Founders’ Fortress can take it off, if you really want out. Or, you know, you could try something drastic.” His voice was matter-of-fact, but there was a shadow beneath it I couldn’t quite place.
Panic fluttered in my chest. I twisted the ring, tugged at it, but it didn’t budge. The clamp was seamless, tight, impossibly final.
“And if I don’t want to keep it on?”
“Most people get used to it. You will too.”
I flexed my thumb, searching for any give, but there was none. The ring felt light as air, but the weight of it pressed down, sudden and suffocating. A shackle disguised as jewelry.
Hayden gestured to the screen. “Your tablet’s got maps, contacts. Directions if you need them. Or ask around. Most people here will talk, if you know how to ask.”
He stood, grabbing his bag and pausing at the door. “You can call me if you run into trouble. Or just don’t run into trouble.” The faintest smile touched his mouth. “That’d be best, Miss Lockwood.”
He offered his hand—firm, warm, rougher than I expected. I met his eyes, searching for some clue to what he was thinking, but they gave nothing away.
Then he turned and slipped out the door, the quiet closing of it echoing in the small space behind him.
I watched him go through the window, ring cooling against my skin, unsure whether I’d just gotten help—or walked into something I didn’t understand at all.
TWELVE
At 6:00a.m. the next morning, I switched on the large screen in my living room. A fresh list of jobs appeared. I scrolled quickly past the endless construction slots, searching for anything different. Near the bottom, a few unfamiliar roles stood out:
Excavation Assistant, Mine 5.
Algae Harvester, Bed 52.
Four listings forGenerator Scrubber, under Wolrick Isle.
That last one made me pause.Underthe island? Until now, I hadn’t given much thought to what was hidden beneath these massive platforms, but apparently, there were generators down there. Maybe the secret behind all this electricity. Harnessing the ocean itself? I didn’t know enough physics to guess how it worked, but it made a certain kind of sense.
As I considered it, two of those six unique jobs vanished right off the list. Already claimed. A minute later, the list refreshed again, and the other four were gone too.
Were people from our group ignoring their officer’s advice and jumping at the odd jobs? Or maybe there were others outthere, on different islands, all fighting for the same slots? Either way, the jobs were gone, and I couldn’t help but wonder who was fast enough, or desperate enough, to grab them.
At a quarter past eight, I joined what was left of my family and friends outside, and together we boarded a shuttle bound for the construction site where we’d all reserved jobs.
As the long vehicle pulled away, I stared out the window at the rising sun, its light scattered across the waves, turning the sea into an expanse of glittering diamonds. The shuttle rumbled over our island’s bridge and, for the first time, carried us across the border into Founders’ Isle.
I figured we’d have to get off once we reached the end of the bridge, but to my surprise, it took a right turn and kept moving. We ran along a shuttleway which spanned the perimeter of the island itself, or at least part of it, which I hadn’t noticed from afar. It wound us around the island, giving us glimpses of several other neighboring artificial islands, before it took a right turn about fifteen minutes later, rolling us over another bridge—and toward Isle H.
The shuttle rolled to a stop at the far side, and we spilled out onto the pavement, joining a crowd that had already gathered. Some faces were familiar, others not. We queued up in front of a row of booths marking the island’s official entrance.
