20

　　It was well after ten by the time Juliette pushed herself away from her desk. Her eyes had become toosore to stare at her monitor any longer, too tired to read one more case note. She powered down hercomputer, filed the folders¹ away, killed the overhead lights, and locked the office door from theoutside.

　　As she pocketed her keys, her stomach grumbled², and the fading odor of a rabbit stew³ remindedher that she’d missed yet another dinner. That made it three nights in a row. Three nights of focusingso hard on a job she barely knew how to perform, a job she had no one to guide her through, thatshe’d neglected to eat. If her office hadn’t abutted⁴ a noisy, aroma-filled cafeteria, she might have beenable to forgive herself.

　　She pulled her keys back out and crossed the dimly lit room, weaving around nearly invisiblechairs left scattered⁵ between the tables. A teenage couple was just leaving, having stolen a few darkmoments in the wallscreen’s twilight⁶ before curfew. Juliette called out for them to descend⁷ safely,mostly because it felt like the sheriff thing to do, and they giggled⁸ at her as they disappeared into thestairwell. She imagined they were already holding hands and would steal a few kisses before they gotto their apartments. Adults knew of these illicit⁹ things but let them slide, a gift each generationbestowed on the next. For Juliette, however, it was different. She had made the same choices as anadult, to love without sanction, and so her hypocrisy¹⁰ was more keenly felt.

　　As she approached the kitchen, she noticed the cafeteria wasn’t quite empty. A lone¹¹ figure sat inthe deep shadows by the wallscreen, staring at the inky blackness of nighttime clouds hanging overdarkened hills.

　　It appeared to be the same figure as the night before, the one who had watched the sunlightgradually fade while Juliette worked alone in her office. She adjusted her route to the kitchen in orderto pass behind the man. Staring all day at folders full of bad intentions had made her a buddingparanoid. She used to admire people who stood out, but now she found herself wary¹² of them.

　　She moved between the wallscreen and the nearest table, pausing to push chairs back into place,their metal feet scraping on the tile. She kept an eye on the seated man, but he never once turnedtoward the noise. He just stared up at the clouds, something in his lap, a hand held up by his chin.

　　Juliette walked right behind him, stepping between the table and his chair, which had been movedstrangely close to the wallscreen. She fought the urge to clear her throat or ask him a question.

　　Instead, she passed on by, jangling her master key from the crowded ring that had come with her newjob.

　　Twice, she glanced back over her shoulder before she reached the kitchen door. The man did notmove.

　　She let herself inside the kitchen and hit one of the light switches. After a genial¹³ flicker¹⁴, theoverhead bulbs popped on and shattered her night vision. She pulled a gallon of juice from one of thewalk-in refrigerators and grabbed a clean glass from the drying rack. Back in the walk-in, she foundthe stew—covered and already cold—and brought it out as well. She ladled two scoops¹⁵ into a bowland rattled¹⁶ around in a drawer for a spoon. She only briefly¹⁷ considered heating up the stew as shereturned the large pot to its frosted shelf.

　　With her juice and bowl in hand, she returned to the cafeteria, knocking the lights off with herelbow and pushing the door shut with her foot. She sat down in the shadows at the end of one of thelong tables and slurped¹⁸ on her meal, keeping an eye on this strange man who seemed to peer into thedarkness as if something could be seen out there.

　　Her spoon eventually scraped the bottom of her empty bowl, and she finished the last of her juice.

　　Not once through the meal had the man turned away from the wallscreen. She pushed the dishesaway from herself, insanely curious. The figure reacted to this, unless it was mere¹⁹ coincidence. Heleaned forward and held his outstretched hand out at the screen. Juliette thought she could make out arod or stick in his grasp—but it was too dark to tell. After a moment, he leaned over his lap, andJuliette heard the squeak²⁰ of charcoal²¹ on expensive-sounding paper. She got up, taking this movementas an opening, and strolled closer to where he was sitting.

　　“Raiding the larder²², are we?” he asked.

　　His voice startled her.

　　“W-worked through dinner,” she stammered²³, as if she needed to explain herself.

　　“Must be nice to have the keys.”

　　He still didn’t turn away from the screen, and Juliette reminded herself to lock the kitchen doorbefore she left.

　　“What’re you doing?” she asked.

　　The man reached behind himself and grabbed a nearby chair, slid it around to face the screen.

　　“You wanna see?”

　　Juliette approached warily²⁵, grabbed the backrest, and deliberately²⁶ slid the chair a few inchesfurther from the man. It was too dark in the room to make out his features, but his voice soundedyoung. She chastised²⁷ herself for not committing him to memory the night before when there’d beenmore light. She would need to become more observant if she was going to be any good at her job.

　　“What’re we looking at, exactly?” she asked. She stole a glance at his lap, where a large piece ofwhite paper glowed faintly in the wan²⁴ light leaking from the stairwell. It was spread flat across histhighs as if a board or something hard rested beneath it.

　　“I think those two are going to part. Look there.”

　　The man pointed²⁸ at the wallscreen and into a mix of blacks so rich and so deep as to appear asone. The contours and shadowy hues²⁹ Juliette could make out almost seemed to be a trick played byher eyes—as real as ghosts. But she followed his finger, wondering if he were mad or drunk, andtolerated the exhausting silence that followed.

　　“There,” he whispered, excitement on his breath.

　　Juliette saw a flash. A spot of light. Like someone flicking³⁰ on a torch far across a dark generatorroom. And then it was gone.

　　She bolted out of her chair and stood near to the wallscreen, wondering what was out there.

　　The man’s charcoal squeaked³¹ on his paper.

　　“What the hell was that?” Juliette asked.

　　The man laughed. “A star,” he said. “If you wait, you might see it again. We’ve got thin cloudstonight and high winds. That one there is getting ready to pass.”

　　Juliette turned to find her chair and saw that he was holding his charcoal at arm’s length, staringup at the spot where the light had flashed, one eye winked³² shut.

　　“How can you see anything out there?” she asked, settling back into her plastic chair.

　　“The longer you do this, the better you see at night.” He leaned over his paper and scribbled³³ somemore. “And I’ve been doing this a long time.”

　　“Doing what, exactly? Just staring at the clouds?”

　　He laughed. “Mostly, yeah. Unfortunately. But what I’m trying to do is see past them. Watch, wemight get another glance.”

　　She peered up in the general area of the last flash. Suddenly, it popped back into view, a pinprickof light like a signal from high over the hill.

　　“How many did you see?” he asked.

　　“One,” she told him. She was almost breathless from the newness of the sight. She knew whatstars were—they were a part of her vocabulary—but she’d never seen one before.

　　“There was a faint one just to the side of it as well. Let me show you.”

　　There was a soft click, and a red glow spilled over the man’s lap. Juliette saw that he had aflashlight hanging around his neck, a film of red plastic wrapped around the end. It made the lenslook like it was on fire, but it emanated³⁴ a gentle glow that didn’t barrage³⁵ her eyes the way the kitchenlights had.

　　Spread across his lap, she saw a large piece of paper covered with dots. They were arrangedhaphazardly, a few perfectly³⁶ straight lines running in a grid³⁷ around them. Tiny notes were scatteredeverywhere.

　　“The problem is that they move,” he told her. “If I see that one here tonight”—he tapped one ofthe dots with his finger; there was a smaller dot beside it—“at the same exact time tomorrow, it’ll bea little over here.” As he turned to Juliette, she saw that the man was young, probably in his latetwenties, and quite handsome in that clean, officelike way. He smiled and added, “It took me a longtime to figure that out.”

　　Juliette wanted to tell him that he hadn’t been alive a long time but remembered what it had feltlike as a shadow when people dismissed her the same way.

　　“What’s the point?” she asked, and saw his smile fade.

　　“What’s the point of anything?” He returned his gaze to the wall and doused³⁸ the flashlight. Julietterealized she’d asked the wrong question, had upset him. And then she wondered if there wasanything illicit in this activity of his, anything that defied the taboos³⁹. Was collecting data on theoutside any different from the people who sat and stared at the hills? She had just made a mental noteto ask Marnes about this when the man turned to her again in the darkness.

　　“My name’s Lukas,” he said. Her eyes had adjusted well enough that she could see his handstretched out toward her.

　　“Juliette,” she replied, grabbing and squeezing his palm.

　　“The new sheriff.”

　　It wasn’t a question, and of course he knew who she was. Everyone up top seemed to.

　　“What do you do when you’re not up here?” she asked. She was pretty sure this wasn’t his job.

　　Nobody should get chits for staring up at the clouds.

　　“I live in the upper mids,” Lukas said. “I work on computers during the day. I only come up whenthe viewing’s good.” He switched the light back on and turned toward her in a way that suggested thestars weren’t the most important thing on his mind anymore. “There’s a guy on my level who worksup here on dinner shift. When he gets home, he lets me know what the clouds were like during theday. If he gives me the thumbs-up, I come take my chances.”

　　“And so you’re making a schematic of them?” Juliette gestured toward the large sheet of paper.

　　“Trying to. It’ll probably take a few lifetimes.” He tucked his charcoal behind his ear, pulled a ragfrom his overalls⁴⁰, and wiped his fingers clean of black residue⁴¹.

　　“And then what?” Juliette asked.

　　“Well, hopefully I’ll infect some shadow with my sickness and they’ll pick up wherever I leaveoff.”

　　“So literally⁴², like, several lifetimes.”

　　He laughed, and Juliette realized it was a pleasant one. “At least,” he said.

　　“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said, suddenly feeling guilty for talking to him. She stood andreached out her hand, and he took it warmly. He pressed his other palm to the back of her hand andheld it a moment longer than she would have expected.

　　“Pleasure to meet you, Sheriff.”

　　He smiled up at her. And Juliette didn’t understand a word of what she muttered in return.

 

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