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Tristan’s brow furrowed. “Describe nuclear energy to me.”
“Oh boy,” Lily said. She took a deep breath and dove in. “Okay, well. There are these things called atoms, teeny tiny bits of matter that are the building blocks of the elements.”
Tristan unhooked the front flap to a large tent, holding it open for Lily to enter, with a wry grimace on his face. “That sounds like what we call elementals. They’re the smallest parts of the elements.”
“Exactly!” Lily said excitedly. “Same thing, different name. Well, long story short, nuclear energy comes from fusing or splitting the insides, or nuclei, of the heaviest elements to turn matter directly into energy.”
“The heaviest elements are really unstable,” Tristan said, his eyes narrowing. “They throw off particles that corrupt cells and cause a wasting disease. If it isn’t caught in time, the corrupted cells overtake the healthy ones. It’s a very painful death.”
“We call it cancer in my world,” Lily said solemnly. “Which is why I, and a lot of people who think like I do, want to get rid of the nukes. Problem is, not only does nuclear energy power our cities inexpensively, but it’s also the source of our most powerful weapons. My world runs on inexpensive energy and powerful weapons.”
“That sounds very familiar,” Tristan said with a dark look. “And your shirt helps to change people’s minds about nuclear energy?” he asked.
“Probably not,” Lily said with a self-deprecating shake of her head. “But a girl can dream.”
Lily wandered into the center of the tent, taking a closer look. It was a storeroom for all kinds of supplies, including clothes. She turned to find Tristan, still standing by the entrance, thinking deeply.
“Tristan?”
“Sorry,” he said, snapping himself out of it. He led her to a small pile of dresses. “Do you see anything you like?”
“I don’t really do dresses,” Lily said, balking. “Is that okay?”
“Sure,” Tristan replied, gesturing to the jeans she was wearing. “Women wear breeches here, too, although not usually women of your station. But whatever you prefer.”
“My station, huh?” Lily mumbled uneasily.
Tristan didn’t comment, but he watched her carefully. She was an American. In her mind, everyone was supposed to be equal. To mask her disapproval, she turned more attention than necessary to the pile of “breeches,” feeling the odd but supple material between her fingertips.
“What is this? Is it leather?” she asked, pulling her hand away. “I don’t wear leather or fur.”
“It’s wearhyde. Very much like leather, except it’s grown from a culture.”
“So this was never part of a living animal?”
Tristan shook his head. “A few cells taken from a living animal, but that’s all. Raising an animal takes a lot of green and a lot of space. It’s much less expensive to just grow replicas of their skin in the stacks. I’ve noticed you wear a lot of cotton.”
“Yeah,” Lily said, looking down at her outfit. The way he’d said “cotton” made it sound like gold. “Is it expensive here?”
?
??Most natural textiles, like cotton, wool, and linen, take a lot of land to grow,” Tristan said.
“It’s a big country. Plenty of room,” Lily replied. She thought of the towers of vegetables and the hydroponic greenhouses she’d seen in the cities, and of how they seemed now, in retrospect, to be a kind of vertical farming. She also recalled how heavily guarded they were. A strange notion occurred to her. “You do have farmland and ranches here, don’t you?”
“Yes, but not many. The Woven started to overrun most of the continent almost two hundred years ago. All the large farms and homesteads in the west were lost,” Tristan said.
“Tristan?” she asked carefully. “What are the Woven?”
“They are a mistake,” he began quietly. “About two hundred years ago it was decided that in order to build our cities larger and more efficiently we needed stronger, bigger animals that didn’t require as much food. Animals specifically designed for new types of labor.”
“Two hundred years ago, huh?” Lily interjected. She wasn’t a history genius, but she’d just studied this period in depth last year for a civics project. “We had an industrial revolution about that time in my world. So, how did you make the Woven? Did you breed them?”
“No, that wouldn’t have been possible, not on the scale that we needed. The witches wove the germinating cells of many different types of creatures together. Some generations of Woven were very successful. We still use them today.”
“The things at the bottom of the vegetable towers,” Lily guessed.
“Guardians, they’re called,” he replied, nodding. “Others, especially those that were part insect—”
