Without a World
Kirasu Rising Book 1
by Kristen Illarmo
Genre: YA Science Fiction
A dying planet. A mythical new world.
Miranda struggles through each day in the Trash Lands, scraping for food and water, wishing she could blend into the sea of ash. The best part of her day is working a meaningless job in a place where people pretend she doesn’t exist.
Dismayed to learn her mother was right, Earth will get sucked into a black hole, Miranda must trust in skills she never knew she had to get to a place she refused to believe existed.
But when they learn the black hole is no natural phenomenon, Miranda can’t turn her back on the suffering of Earth, and saving it could cost more than she ever knew.
CHAPTER 1
BUBBLE CITY
Miranda stepped into stiff, soot-covered overalls and tied her short black
hair under a bandanna. The pants smelled like amarriage of charred plastic
and spent oil, like everything in the Trash Lands. She wanted to peel
them off and curl up on the thin cot for another three hours, or even ten
minutes.
“Don’t want to go in today?” Beda stretched her arms above her
head, her fingers scraping the ceiling of the squat, cinder-block shack,
and dropped into a right leg lunge. Miranda zipped the putrid overalls
and stepped into black boots.
“When have I ever?” She pulled a water bottle from her bag and
shook it—empty.Her tongue lay fat and sticky in her mouth. “What are
you getting ready for?”
“I have a talk tonight at the BubbleCity library.Miranda, I want you
to come.”
She screamed inside but managed to ask, “Why?”
Beda arched her back into cobra position, holding her upper body
rigid. “It’s important to me. I need you to hear what I’ll say.”
She tried to pretend they were having a serious conversation and decided
to ignore the butt that was now sticking up in the air.
“You need an audience to tell me something?”
Beda looked at her from between her legs. “Will you come?”
Miranda sighed. “What time?”
Beda stretched to her full height of six feet and beamed. “It’s right after
your shift. I arranged with the council to give you an extension so you
can be there.” She sank into lotus position, her long legs tucked into each
other, thumb and middle finger barely touching, the backs of her palms
resting on her knees. She closed her eyes.
Miranda’s neck got hot, and the flush spread fast up her face as Beda
nestled into hours of meditation. As if she has control over anything. “Another
speech by Beda Ess? Why do you bother? Nobody believes any of
the crock you are pushing. ‘Love is the answer.’ People out here are scraping
to find the next drop of water, and people in Bubble City are so set
they can’t even see a problem. You’re not changing anything!”
Beda sat straight-backed; eyes closed. Her tone calm. “That may be,
but you won’t find hope in a hopeless place if you never look.”
Miranda ignored the T-shirt slogan and enjoyed continuing to interrupt
her peaceful repose. “I can fill three bottles today, but that’s all I can
get in and out. It should get us through the night. Can you get any?”
Beda opened one eye. “I’ll try,” she whispered.
Miranda grabbed her phone and earphones, essential elements for
the endless train ride that felt longer every day. She tied another bandanna
around her nose and mouth and slipped on her leather jacket. “Try
not to get lost in wonderland,Mom. I’ll go make some money so we can
eat.”
“Bye, M, and thank you.”
She rolled her eyes and opened the door on a dark, quiet street.
Warm wind brushed her hand, and a fine mist of ash settled on its back.
She knocked it off and shoved both hands deep in her pockets. She plodded
into the dark, beginning the two-mile walk to the train station.
She kept her phone in her pocket with one eye on the road ahead
and the other on the edges, watching for movement. Her fingers rested
on the brass knuckles, cold in her pocket. She glanced under burned-out
cars and listened for footsteps behind her. The quiet made her anxious.
Thesky lightened to dull gray as she walked.Theconstant burning of
Bubble City’s trash kept the air thick with soot and smoke. A low growl
rumbled fromunder a car as she walked past. She stomped her boot hard
twice and barked. It answered with a whimper.
“Welcome to the Trash Lands,” she mumbled as a heavy layer of soot
settled on her head. She shook it off. If Bubble City tasted ash with every
bite of food,maybe things would change. If they never saw their precious
sun because thick layers of ash coated their dome, maybe things would
change. But that won’t happen because they stuck the incinerators way
out here and we get to live with them. Lucky bastards. She pulled her
bandanna down and tried to spit in disgust, but it came out as air.
As she got closer to the station, shapes edged out of the shadows and
focused into people. She joined the quiet commuter shuffle and trudged
up three flights of stairs to the platform and scanned her ID. She relaxed
a little walking through the turnstile and let her brass knuckles drop into
her pocket.
Commuters jammed the platform on their way to Bubble City. She
shook the piles of gray dust off the bandannas and shoved them in her
bag. Her hand brushed her phone. She pulled it out and pushed play on
a new song Nathan sent her. It started with a catchy bassline. She smiled
and turned it up. The singer’s voice came in simple and strong. Another
voice joined, Are they sisters? She closed her eyes and leaned back, listening.
The singer floated in space in front of her. Omega’s door, what is that?
Did she say rebirth?
Waking up is painful
I agree with that.
Wake up and believe in everything
The truth is, anything is possible.
That would be nice.
Two women floated now, seeming at home in the void of space. Their
voices swelled and built a wall of sound around her. Who are these people?
I’ve never heard anything like this.No one sang in BubbleCity;music
was all synth tracks and robots. The wave of sound crashed as the train
arrived. The crowd pushed to get on, and no one got off. She moved with
the tide and squeezed into a seat next to an older woman and a young
girl.
She rocked to the drums, listening to the lyrics.Thetrain lurched forward.
Three hours to Bubble City.Three, long hours. Her butt ached at
the thought.
Quiet meditation, incessant interruption
She closed her eyes and click—the music stopped.
“What!” she yelled at her phone.Dead. Stupid thing was useless, battery
couldn’t hold a charge overnight, and no one had electricity in the
Trash Lands.
She threw the phone in her bag and pulled out a book called Synchronicity.
Nathan was so excited when he lent it to her a month ago.He
asked her to think about how seemingly unrelated events could be profoundly
related and could have a big impact on her life. The idea sounded
interesting, but the language was so hard to follow. This guy Jung may
have been brilliant, but he wasn’t trying to be understood. She closed it
again and watched the desert stream past at sixty miles an hour, one
long stretch of brown and tan. There were no trees, only scrub brush and
bushes, and sand. Sand for hundreds of miles in all directions, endless
desert, interrupted by bubbles—cities with protective domes to keep the
poison air out.
She closed her eyes and her eyelids burned; sand stretched out forever
behind them too. When she opened them again, the shadows of the
two moons broke through the clouds.
“Look, Dahlia.” The older woman pointed to the sky. “Look at the
moons. Has your mother told you the story of the second moon?” she
asked the little girl.
“No, Grandma. Will you tell me?”
Miranda groaned, grabbing her earphones, but remembered she had
no power. She’d heard this story so often from her mother she could tell
it by heart. That didn’t mean she believed it.
WITHOUT A WORLD SAMPLE 5
“A long time ago, back when the Earth was green and fresh, there was
only one moon,” the woman began. “The Earth was larger, because that
second moon was part of this planet. Earth was one large, green planet
with clean air and clean water, enough for everyone.”
“Wow, did you live then, Grandma?”
“No, darling, this was well before my time. But, as the story goes,
there were two groups of people on this one large planet. One group
lived simply, with nature, and listened to her needs and tried to live in
balance. The other group didn’t listen to nature, so they couldn’t hear
what was most important. All they wanted was to collect money and pretend
like their actions had no consequences. Does that sound familiar?”
she asked the little girl. “Sounds a lot like people here now, doesn’t it?”
“I guess it does, Grandma.”
“The people who could hear nature tried to make the people who
couldn’t understand they were out of balance, that Earth couldn’t survive
that way.My Nana told me they tried for many generations to help people
understand, but it didn’t work.Nana said one day when she was a girl,
she woke up and thousands of people from her town were gone. It was
that way everywhere. That same night, she saw a second moon staring
down from the sky. It glowed bright and big, just like it does now. Nana
believed that’s where they went, that they broke off a piece of Earth and
started their own world. Some say they are still up there now, living in
peace with each other and with nature, with plenty of clean air and clean
water.”
“Do you believe that Grandma?” the little girl asked.
“Sometimes I like to, but how would anyone break off a piece of
Earth and get it up into space? You know, the scientists say we’ve always
had two moons. But Nana swore she remembered the day it first showed
up.”
“What do you think they are doing up there, Grandma?” asked the
little girl, staring at the fading moons.
The woman smiled. “Singing, maybe dancing. Or maybe they are
quiet, maybe it’s morning there, and they’re making breakfast.”
“I’m hungry, Grandma.” The little girl grabbed her stomach.
“I know, baby.” Worry lines creased the woman’s face.
“Hopefully, we can find something when we get to Bubble City.”
“Ok.” The little girl held her stomach and closed her eyes.
She put her spin on that old yarn. “Here.” Miranda handed the
woman a roll wrapped in a bandanna. “I was saving it for later, but she
can have it.”
“Are you sure?” The woman was surprised.
She shrugged, ‘yes.’
The woman handed the roll to the little girl. She smiled atMiranda.
“Thank you very much, lady.”
“You’re welcome.” Miranda smiled back.
Thegirl devoured it in a few bites. “Do you think there are anyMoon
People here, Grandma?” she asked, looking at Miranda.
“Maybe so, sweetie. My mother was sure of it. She said sometimes
they come down to try to help us. They’d get jobs and live like the rest of
us, but they also try to change our world.” She smiled at Miranda.
Miranda stifled a groan. Beda had told her variations of this story
since she was old enough to stand. But the truth is no one will save us.
She wanted to scream at the woman. We’ve always lived in a toxic waste
dump, and that won’t change! She put her head back against the wall instead
and let her eyelids burn against her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see
the hope glimmering in the little girl’s face. The train pulled into Koch
Station. They all got off and shuffled toward the main gate. No need to
rush; there were multiple entrances with guards screening everyone for
weapons and empty bottles as they entered. She yawned; this was rote.
Her brass knuckles and empty water bottles were tucked away under a
false bottom in her bag. She sewed it in after losing a precious bottle to
this idiotic process. That wasn’t happening again. The guard sneered at
her as she handed her bag over for inspection.
“Why do you pretend you’re reading this stuff?”He laughed, throwing
her book back in, and waved her through. Most guards didn’t care
about empty bottles, they were checking for explosives, but they couldn’t
let it slide, either; you had to put in a little effort.
Cleared for entry, she walked through skinny, glass doors twenty feet
high and six feet across with ornate black wrought iron casings. Iron roses
climbed the glass to the sky. It was majestic from far off and easy to
police. As she stepped across the threshold, the low and constant hum of
machines took over. A robot rolled over and swept dirt off her boots. She
stepped to the side, out of the way of the masses entering for the workday.
Crouching down, she took her arms out of her jacket and shimmied
out of the dusty, sleeveless overalls. She folded them in half and, wrapping
them tight, shoved them into her bag. Now she wore a green-andblue-
striped T-shirt, cropped black pants, and her trusty worn leather.
Her clothes were as clean as she could get them, and she could never be
mistaken for a resident. The clear distinction put themat ease. She wiped
dust from her cheeks with a rag. Here we go again.
The crowds were thick at the gate. Miranda waited for a potential
break and took a deep breath of sweet, clean air as she stepped onto the
frosted-glass sidewalk. It was raised above the black obsidian street, creating
a track keeping the often drunken, always reckless drivers away from
everyone else while they played with their favorite toys.
The sidewalk square lit bright pink as she stepped. My favorite, she
cringed, as smoke rose from screeching tires below. She bumped into another
worker. “Sorry,” she mumbled, but the woman scurried out of her
way, not making eye contact.
Her bridge wasn’t too much farther. A few more bright, blue and
green squares would get her there. As Miranda stepped onto the pedestrian
bridge, a new pop tune pumped out of the stones. The girl sang
about her dress. ‘So pink, so chic, gonna love you all night long.’
The video played on the bridge as she walked across it. Instead of
looking down, Miranda looked out. The black, glassy street played back
the reflections of the residential towers like amirror. She stopped, resting
her fingers on the railing, and stared out at the stretching towers.
Who lives there? But she knew—only the children of people who
lived there before. Fortunes and leases passed fromone generation to the
next. People in Bubble City knew where they came from. There wasn’t
anyone making it rich and moving in anymore. It was all set, and they
liked that just fine. Residents strolled along the sidewalk, shopping. A
few people scurried through the crowds with somewhere to be; no doubt
workers brought in for the day.
Motorcycles and cars darted along the track below, weaving around
each other, all fighting to get there. Where? Anywhere, first. The black,
glistening street buckled and cracked; its color lightened to stormy blue.
What am I seeing? Cars disappeared into rushing water. Small waves
crested through hushed silence. Grassy banks overtook the cement sides
of the track.
“Do you see this?” She pointed wildly toward the new river, but the
crowd shuffled by. “Hey!” She grabbed the arm of a man in a silver suit.
“Look!” He jerked his arm back, horrified that she’d touched him. “Oh,
sorry, never mind.”
They can’t see it. It’s only a vision.
The biggest one she’d ever seen. She turned back and watched light
play on the water, content to enjoy her private show for as long as it lasted.
Movement in the distance caught her eye. “What is that?” she whispered.
In front of her, the hulking tower transformed into a snowcapped
mountain, and an open field stretched out in front. A cold wind hit her.
“It’s so beautiful.” The words caught in her throat, and a tear spilled
down her cheek.Theclean smell of wet grass filled her senses as she drank
in this peaceful place. Tall trees blanketed the mountain in green while
bright beams of sun splashed the field in golden light. A horn beeped
in the distance, and another; she felt the cold metal railing in her hand
again. The trees on the mountain glinted and turned blue as the moun-
WITHOUT A WORLD SAMPLE 9
tain folded back into a steel-and-glass tower. The tops of cars moved
through the water until it drained away, and the black street glistened.
Bubble City surrounded her again. She shivered. A clock flashed on
the building—8:10 a.m.
“Oh no! I’m late!”
She ran across the bridge to the riverfront café.
CHAPTER 2
CHASING VISIONS
The line stretched out the door andMiranda ran faster. She pushed past
a young man in a silver suit and squeezed inside the café.
“So sorry! It took forever to get through the gate today!” She scooted
behind the counter, grabbing a red, plastic apron on the way. Smiling
through her guilt about the lie, she tied on the apron. “I made it, right?”
“Not really, but...” Nathan interrupted himself. “Are you ok?”
“What? Sure.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “Will you have your
usual, Mrs. Franken?”
The woman answered her question with a blank stare. “A large double,
skinny latte, extra hot.”
“Oh, right, your usual,” Miranda muttered. She prepped the shots
while everyone in line stared at the screens on their wrists.
“What can I get you?” she asked the next person.
The woman’s coiffed hair was bright pink with a platinum lower half
swooped into an intricate ponytail. She pointed with a black, sparkly nail
at the sign on the back wall. “You know, I’ll have a double, decaf, skinny
latte with whip.” She stared back down at her screen.
“Naturally,” Miranda said.
“Huh?” the woman grunted.
Miranda pulled the shots and frothed themilk,marveling at the outfits
in line. Residents of Bubble City took pains to make it clear they belong.
They wore crisp, white linen, or silk and satin, that wouldn’t last
twominutes on the outside, or entire fluorescent vinyl outfits that would
stick like a shower curtain if they stepped into the heat beyond the protection
of the dome. The colors were brighter than anything she owned,
and all their shoes were shiny and new; not like her scuffed boots hiding
behind the counter. She poured skim milk over the shots and topped it
with whipped cream as requested. “Here you go.”
The woman took the drink without looking and flashed her wrist at
the small monitor on the counter. A green check appeared on the screen.
“Next.”
Miranda andNathan worked in silence through the morning rush. It
was too early to talk, and they had both been awake far too long. When
the crowd died down, she sat on a crate and closed her eyes. It all came
back—the cold wind, the smell of dirt. Tall grass from the open field surrounded
her, and water from the soggy ground seeped into the holes in
her boots. Startled, she opened her eyes, fresh mud caked the bottom of
her shoes, and her socks were wet. She yelped.
“What? Are you ok?”
She pulled down handfuls of paper towels and opened her mouth to
explain, but said, “Never mind.” She wiped the soft, black mud off her
boots. Her heart thudded in her ears.
“Where did you pick that up?” he gestured to the mud.
“I don’t even know.” She caught sight of a sailboat cruising by on
the river outside and powerfully needed fresh air. “I’m going out for a
minute, ok?”
“Sure.” Nathan continued wiping a small section of the counter as
she walked away.
She took a few steps through the small kitchen, where they prepped
sandwiches, and opened the back door. The generated soft breeze was
warmand wet off the river. She sat on a back step, watching the boats bob
along the rippling water. A ripe and unfamiliar smell settled on her like
it was inside her nose. It smelled raw and dirty and sharp. She gagged.
There couldn’t be anything in this sanitized city as noxious as that. The
trucks passed by this morning, like every morning, to pick up trash and
douse the streets in a light, lemon-scented wash. It was necessary because
the nighttime revelry often got out of control, ending with someone’s
dinner spilled on the road. But this wasn’t puke.This was like fresh dirt
and grass, but there was a rankness she couldn’t put her finger on.
What is this? Is it real? The sharp smell clung to her nose as she saw
a black bird with tall orange feathers on its tail knocking its beak on the
sunken street in front of her. Traffic whizzed around it as it pecked, oblivious
to its impending doom.
“Oh my God! It’s going to get hit!” She rushed down the slick steps
to the street.
“Hey, bird! Come here!”
The chicken squawked at her, unfazed by motorcycles speeding past
so fast its feathers ruffled. It pecked at the ground, scratching in a small
circle. A sour taste crept up the back of her throat as traffic zipped
by—cars and motorcycles, all speeding on the slick track, barely missing
the dumb bird. How fast was that bike going? Maybe I can make it. She
hesitated, then took one step onto the slick, black road.
Honk! A horn blared and something jerked her back, out of the
path, as a streak of purple shot past her.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nathan screamed, holding her arms.
“Did it get hit?” Miranda was shaking.That didn’t go well.
“What? You? Almost! I pulled you out of the way of that stupid motorcycle!
What the hell were you doing—trying to get flattened?”
“Oh, thanks. Where is it?”
“Where is what?”
“Where is the bird? I think it was a chicken. It had a tall orange
feather in the back. Didn’t you see it? It was standing in the street. It was
going to get hit!”
“You risked your life to save a chicken?” Nathan gave her a look that
said this was the stupidest thing he had ever heard.
“I guess so. I didn’t want to see it get flattened. But where is it?”
“Miranda.” His face was severe. “There wasn’t anything out there except
speeding motorcycles and cars when I watched you walk out into
traffic.”
She kicked at the ground with the toe of her boot. AmI losing it? “No
chicken?”
“No. I don’t even know what a damn live chicken looks like— do
you? But no, there was nothing—and you almost got creamed.”
He didn’t want to hear what it looked like. “Oh, well, thanks,” she
said instead.
“You are welcome. Can we go back to work?We need to make sandwiches.”
“Of course. I’msorry,Nathan.”Her legs dragged fromthe adrenaline
rush of almost dying. I can get through this. Maybe if she said it enough
times, she’d believe it.
“Ok. We can talk about this later.” He gave her a worried look and
motioned for her to walk in front of him. “We have to get ready for the
lunch rush.”
The afternoon passed in a haze of filling orders for customers in different
versions of the same garish outfit; bright orange, pink, or neon
green; some wore black and silver. Many of the women and men wore
bright makeup—there was no shortage of orange eyeshadow. These regulars
were not the leisure class; they ate at fancier places. These were the
few with jobs, the few who worked to keep Bubble City running. Most
worked in the government high-rise at the end of the block. None of
them took their eyes off their phones when they ordered; they knew the
menu. They mumbled their orders and moved on. She pushed her feelings
down and let the mundane work take her mind off the visions for
a while. At 4:30, Miranda locked the doors and Nathan pulled out the
mop and broom.
“Miranda, should I be worried about you? I mean, I guess I should
say, now I’m worried about you.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t trying to kill myself. I saw a bird.”
“A chicken.”
“I guess, yeah, and I didn’t want to watch it get run over.”
“So, you were going to die to save it?”
“I didn’t plan that part out.”
“So, the other part that worries me,Miranda, is—it wasn’t there.Has
this happened before?”
She stopped wiping the same spot on the counter and gave him
her full attention. He was a year older than her and she had worked
with him for almost a year. He lived in the village before her own.
They talked—they were friendly,maybe they were even friends, but there
wasn’t time for that anymore. Did he actually care? What the hell. “So,
maybe sometimes I see things that aren’t there, or smell things—like today
when I walked outside, I smelled a horrible smell. It stung my nostrils.
I don’t know what it was, but I think I was smelling that chicken.
But, not one, a bunch of chickens, like I was hanging out with a bunch of
stinky chickens.”
“When have you ever even seen a chicken? They live in the farm
colonies. It’s not like they wander the streets. I don’t even know what one
looks like, and I have no idea what they smell like.”
“That’s the thing, Nathan. I don’t know anything about chickens,
either. I’ve never seen one until today. But it’s not about chickens— it
could be anything.This morning, I stopped on the bridge for a minute.
I was watching traffic when, right in front of my eyes, the road became a
river, and ZTE Tower became a mountain. It was calm and quiet, and I
was standing in a field by a river looking at a beautiful mountain. It was
so real.That’s why I was late. And when I sat there earlier,” she pointed
to the crate, “it all came back, and I was in the field again, and there was
mud on my boots when I opened my eyes.”
“That was real. I saw the mud.” He shook his head like he was trying
to get a handle on the situation. “How long has this been happening?”
“Since I was a kid. But the visions are getting more intense, and now
they’re happening all the time. Oh man; do you think I’m crazy?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She pulled back, horrified.
“I’m kidding.” He laughed. “I think.”
“You’re the first person I’ve ever told.” She went back to wiping the
counter.
“I’m sorry. I’m a jerk.” He laid his hand on her shoulder. “I bet
you are having some unique-but-understandable reaction to the intolerable
life you live. Maybe your brain is projecting pictures of a better
world—maybe things you saw in books when you were in school—to
give you some kind of break from the harshness of this reality. Think
about it. What did you do today? You woke up before dawn, walked
through burning ash and trash-pirates for the pleasure of a three-hour
train ride to come here where no one cares who you are, and they don’t
want to think about where you came fromor what you have to go back to
when your shift is over. But we know—we know we have to ride another
three hours back, staying alert and holding onto our bags. And when we
get home, we’ll be greeted with the fumes from burning trash that sting
our eyes and lungs and will kill us by the time we’re forty.That’s our reality.
I’m kind of jealous your brain has figured out how to show you beautiful
things from time to time. At least in those moments, you’re doing
more than living to serve the thoughtless people in this place.”
Miranda sniffled. “I’ve never thought of it like that, Nathan.” She
leaned over and hugged him, pinning his arms so he couldn’t hug her
back. It was good to hold his sturdy frame. She didn’t want to let go, but
her face got hot and she dropped her arms, stepping back. Had she gone
too far?
He touched her cheek. “Tears, twice in one day? Miranda, are you
going soft?”
His hand was warm, and he looked into her eyes.
“No way.” She stepped back, blowing her nose on a napkin to break
the tension.
“I’m glad it’s not always chickens.”
“Right.” She laughed. “It’s not always chickens. But lately, it feels so
real.”
He squatted in front of her and took her hand. “Listen.” His hand
looked unnatural on hers like she was looking at a photograph of other
people’s hands. “I know it’s bad, and it doesn’t look like it will ever get
better, but please don’t kill yourself. Who would I work with then?” He
smiled. “Some horrible jerk who comes in late every day and only comes
to steal water and makes me do all the work. Like every other jerk before
you.”
“That also sounds like me.” She smiled and pulled her hand away. “I
wasn’t trying to kill myself.”
“That’s good news. I hope it’s true.” He looked at the clock on the
building outside. “They are coming for lockdown in twenty minutes, so
we need to fill our bottles and finish cleaning this place.”
“I filled them already, yours and mine. You had two, right?” She
grabbed her leather jacket and pulled it on.
“Yeah, thanks.”
They locked the door as the patrol came by. “All finished for today?”
He glared at Miranda and Nathan.
“Yes,” Nathan answered, “just locking up.”
“Anything to report?” he asked.
“No, sir. A standard day at the shop,” Nathan answered.
Miranda nodded in agreement.
“Fine. IDs.”
He scannedMiranda’s. “I see you have an extension. Approved for an
extra hour for a talk at the library.”
Nathan raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, I forgot! My mom wanted me to go to her talk tonight.”
“Wait! I think I left an oven on!”Nathan dashed back inside the café.
The guard stared at Miranda in silence.
She kicked at the sidewalk with the toe of her boot. Should I leave? Is
he coming back?
Nathan burst back through the door. “Ooh! Sorry about that. I had
to check them all—can’t chance a fire.” The guard held out his hand, and
Nathan handed over his ID.
“It appears you are also approved for an hour of overtime.”Theguard
handed Nathan back his card with his eyebrow locked in a severe arch.
“What? Oh no—I forgot the boss told me to do a deep clean on the
fridge tonight. Oh, what a drag. Guess I’m not going home after all.”
“Hop to it, people.” The guard turned on his heel.
“Yes, sir!” Nathan ran back into the café.
Miranda turned in the direction of the library.What just happened?
She hadn’t gone far when Nathan ran up beside her. “Come on. I
don’t want him to see me!” He pulled Miranda into the middle of the
crowded sidewalk.
“How did you do that?” Miranda asked.
“I have a few tricks.” He smiled.
“But you can’t come with me,” she said.
“What? I pulled off amiracle to get to see your famously crazy mother
in action. I see this through.”
She puffed out a sigh.
Miranda’s stomach was heavy and knotted as they came to the round
glass-and-steel building.
“I don’t know what she’s going to say.”
“That’s part of the fun, right?” They stepped through the large glass
doors, bright lights shone on rows and rows of books.
Nathan’s eyes glimmered. “This is my favorite place in the world.”
“I guess it’s not bad,” Miranda said.
Nathan looked hurt as he followed her to the community room. A
thin crowd milled around the room, chatting with one another. These
were her regulars; the trusted group of twenty-odd people Beda could
count on to come to one of her talks. No one new had come in a long
time. Nathan and Miranda shuffled in and sat in folding chairs in the
back row closest to the door.
“Is that her?” Nathan whispered.
Beda curled her long brown fingers around the podium’s edge, gripping
it tight like she was worried it might escape. She did not look at the
small crowd.
“Yep.” Miranda glanced at the door. “I might need to make a quick
exit. I don’t even know why I’m here. She begged me. I haven’t been to
one of these in years.”
“I can’t wait to hear it!” Nathan grinned. His board-straight, lightbrown
bangs grazed the top of his eyes. She wanted to touch them—to
brush them from his shining eyes, but she clasped her hands in her lap.
Beda’s firmvoice snapped her out of her thoughts. “Thank you all for
coming.” She stood straight-backed, owning every inch of her height and
fixed her eyes on the crowd. Her white hair hung down the back of her
signature floor-length black trench coat. “This is the group tonight, so
let’s get started. We have a special guest.”
Miranda slumped in her seat and wanted badly to be invisible. “My
daughter, Miranda.” She pointed to Miranda, shrinking even smaller in
the back row. Women and men craned their necks to look back at Beda’s
child. Her cheeks burned, and Nathan smiled down at her. “I asked
her to come because I want her to hear what I will tell you all tonight. I
need you all to hear this message with your whole heart.” Silence settled
through the room. “Many of you have listened tomy message of hope for
years. You’ve heard me plead with humankind to change their ways and
to value people more than money and things. You’ve heard me say we can
accomplish anything if we believe in our inner strength and harness that
strength. But do you believe it?”
“Do you believe it?” Nathan whispered.
“Kill me,” Miranda mumbled.
“How many of you truly believe a group of people like yourselves
broke off fromthis world and created a new one up there solely by believing
they could? How many of you truly believe that?” A few hands rose
tentatively in the air. Beda shook her head and did not mask the disgust
on her face. “That was the first Gathering.Men and women like you who
decided they could do more harnessed their strength together to create
a new world. I know it’s hard to believe mere mortals can achieve such
things, but believing and trusting in this is whatmakes you great. You are
more than flesh and bone; you are all made of stardust, and it is powerful
stuff. Each of us has an untapped well of energy thatmakes us capable
of accomplishing anything.Hector!” She startled aman in the front row.
He fidgeted in his shiny silver coat. “If I told you I have seen a group of
villagers work together to stop a giant meteor from colliding with their
planet, would you believe me?”
“I don’t know. How would that be possible?” the man stammered.
“Maybe it never would have collided?”
“No!” Beda shouted. “You have to think bigger to understand what
is possible. Those humble villagers came together and, using their minds
and their will, deflected its path, putting it on a harmless course. They
concentrated and meditated on the outcome they could see because they
fully believed together they could do anything!This is no allegory.What
I am telling you is real. That was the second Gathering. The people of
Earth have never accepted; you can do so much only by believing.”
“People of Earth? Like she’s not one?” Nathan giggled.
“She’s probably not; psycho woman,” Miranda whispered back. “I
thought I could come here and preach my message of love and the importance
of trusting your inner strength, and it would be enough to turn
the tide of greed and destruction. I thought that hearing the truth about
the Gatherings would snap people out of it andmake themwant to work
together to stop the inevitable. But not even you believe me.” She waved
across the crowd and lowered her eyes. “I have failed, and now we are out
of time. Last night I had a vision.”
“Oh, hell.” Miranda sank deeper in her chair.
“I have told you all about the black hole that threatens Earth. In my
vision Earth was consumed. I fear the time for action has passed.”
“Well, that’s a downer,” Nathan whispered. Miranda stared in
stunned silence.
“This will be my last talk. I appreciate you all listening and supporting
me through the years. I wish it were enough to make a difference. I
recommend you take whatever actions you feel are best to ready yourselves
for the end.” Gasps and whispers floated through the crowd.
“When will this happen?” A worried-looking man in the front row
asked. Miranda snapped out of her surprise. “The black hole will swallow
Earth? Really? She’s finally lost it.” She jumped up, and the chair folded
on itself, clattering to the floor. She beelined for the door. Nathan ran
out behind her.
“Whoa! You said your mom was a crackpot, but I had no idea!”
Nathan shook his head. “She’s out there!”
“Yeah, thanks. My mom is certifiable. I’m so glad you believe me
now.”Miranda stopped and shook two fists in the air. “She’s been whining
about this black hole forever. Why is our time up now?”
A guard walked by on the sidewalk.
Nathan grabbed Miranda’s elbow and nudged her into the crowd.
“Come on. Our pass extension is almost up.”
They walked toward the looming iron gate. Miranda wanted to cry
and punch someone at the same time.
“She’s talked about this black hole before?”
“Oh yes.” Miranda gritted her teeth. “She says people brought it on
and made it grow because we don’t love enough, or something.”
“It sounds like she’s giving up,” Nathan said.
“But why now?” Miranda mumbled.
The moons rose on the horizon as they waited on the train platform.
“Could there be people up there?” Miranda whispered.
“I can’t believe you’re asking that.”
His laugh stung. “So, does that mean no?”
“Yes, it means ‘no.’ No one lives on that moon. No one lives on that
one, either, before you ask.”He pointed to the larger moon. “Remember,
they sent a shuttle there when we were kids and proved no one is there.”
“It looks more solid these days from what I remember.”
“Yeah,” he conceded, “maybe it’s the time of year or something.”
“Beda has always told me we came from there,” Miranda said.
Nathan whistled low. “You know she’s out there.”
“Yeah.” Miranda changed the subject. “I forgot to tell you. I like the
song you put on my phone. What band is it?”
“I didn’t put anything on your phone, not recently anyway.”
“You did, it was on there this morning. I listened to it on the way in,
untilmy stupid phone died. Did you forget?Maybe I’mnot the only one
cracking up around here.”
“No, it wasn’t me. I don’t have any newmusic. Could your momhave
done it?”
“Ha!” Miranda laughed at the suggestion. “Definitely not her.”
Where did it come from? The train pulled up, andMiranda rode the wave
of commuters to the back.Nathan stayed close, squeezing next to her and
an older woman on the backbench.
“Is your mom ok?” Nathan asked.
“I don’t know.”Miranda stared into the crowd.Thetrain lurched forward,
settling into momentum. Miranda leaned her head back, and the
song that was playing when her phone died kicked in. “How are you doing
that?” she asked, stunned.
“Doing what?”
“Wait. Do you hear it?”
“Yeah.”
“This is themusic that’s onmy phone.How is it playing on the whole
train?”
People on the train looked around, confused. There was no sound
system for music on the commuter trains. They left that behind in Bub-
ble City. Everyone in the car got quiet and listened until it faded; people
murmured in low tones.
“It had to come from you, Nathan.”
“Miranda, I promise I’ve never heard that. Weeks ago, I gave you a
demo of a thrash band I found, and I can assure you it didn’t sound anything
like that.”
“Then where did it come from? And how did it play again now?”
“Maybe you have a soundtrack,” Nathan smirked.
“Maybe it came from the universe.” She smiled at the idea, putting
her head back against the seat and locking her arms around her backpack.
“I’m going to take a nap. Can you be lookout?”
“Sure.”
She closed her eyes, and enjoyed the closeness.
***
“Hey, wake up.This is my stop.” Nathan poked her arm until she opened
one eye.
“Huh? Yeah, thanks. I’m up.”
The train rolled to a stop. The lights flickered then went out. It was
pitch-dark in the train and black outside. As the door slid open, the
lights came on at half power, bathing the train in gray. Nathan hesitated
like he wasn’t sure he should get off. He stepped forward; he made his
choice.
“See you tomorrow.”
“Ok.” An unnatural darkness hung beyond the doors. “Be careful.”
He stepped through and vanished into darkness. Dread sank deep
into Miranda’s stomach as the train lurched forward. Someone stared at
her from across the train car.
What is that? It wasn’t long before the train pulled into her station.
She shuddered and grabbed her things as the lights flickered and buzzed
out. She stepped on and over feet and bags, stumbling to the doors as fast
as she could in the dark. She stepped onto the platform and went cold as
a hand grabbed her shoulder.
Who designed your book covers? Post by Kristen Illarmo
Artist Rebecca Rebouché designed the cover for Without A World. She had not done book covers before, but she loved the project and wanted to be a part of it. It took her about 30 hours to produce the cover. The Without A World font is hand-painted by her! It is not common for a cover artist to read the book, which makes perfect sense, but Rebecca asked to read an early version of the project. She used inspiration from reading the book to compose the cover from some of her other works. That makes the design even more special for me. She enjoyed the experience, but her true love is painting, so she doesn’t expect to do any more book covers. That meant I needed to find someone else to design the cover for the prequel, Behind the Red Door.
Writers should write, not spend hours on Canva
(Guilty). I did a few (boring and bland) mock-ups myself and decided I should be writing instead—time to hire someone. I checked out Fiverr first but was overwhelmed by the range of prices (which I conflate with the range of quality for the finished product, for better or worse). Next, I scrolled over to my trusted source for editors: Reedsy. I have no doubt that the designers on Reedsy would have knocked it out of the park, but this is a 9,000-word prequel and the quotes came back between $450 US and 1,600 Euros, and that my friends, is out of the budget for this project.
Author groups are good for recommendations
I chose 100 Covers to produce the cover for the prequel to Without A World after randomly asking Twitter designers (not recommended) and then getting fired as a client from a potential designer on Fiverr. (I left her hanging while I was hoping for good things from the Twitter contact. Good things did not come, and when I came back she politely let me know she was busy). So I had to find something else. I was not confident in my ability to communicate the kind of design I needed or choose a designer who could produce work I would like. So, I was happy when someone in a Facebook author group recommended 100 Covers because I would never meet the designer (I was totally down with this), I could get unlimited revisions, and it was $100. So yeah, I was in.
Devil is in (conveying your own) details
As I said, I was feeling shaky about my ability to communicate my hopes for the design, so I was happy when I got to the 100 Covers (very detailed) questionnaire. It asks questions aimed at prying the critical information out of the author. It asks for the blurb or overview, of course, but it also asks you to describe the characters, send links to two bestselling covers that you like, and much more. You can read more about the questionnaire here [https://ww.kristenillarmo.com/blog/book-cover-a-journey]
The site does an excellent job of setting expectations, so I knew I would have to wait for one to two weeks before I got the first proof. Eight days later, they delivered two (!) similar and complete designs. I was so happy that I liked them both! I asked my crew for opinions, and they were (mostly) drawn to the one that pulled me in a bit more.
So, I ended up with a design that I was very with about two weeks after first finding the site.
Finished product!
Kristen Illarmo is a young adult, science fiction author driven to write stories with strong female characters in the backdrop of crumbling societies. She proudly calls New Orleans home, a fact that may only change if the perfect beach town reveals itself.
When she’s not toiling to improve efficiency in local government in her day job, she’s writing about dark possible futures and thinking about the importance of the choices we make. The prequel to Without A World, Behind the Red Door, is available now at kristenillarmo.com.
Join her monthly newsletter to grab the prequel to Without A World for free, get author updates, and access other free books from emerging authors at kristenillarmo.com.
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