The Lofties (The Echelon Book 2)

its side. It looked out of place in the Dirt, with its clean lines and sharp angles. It made me nervous, though I couldn’t have said why—maybe Prium’s bald pate reflected in it, gleaming under the lights.
Prium raised his hands for silence, and soon the crowd subsided. I spotted a few of my co-workers among them, and most of my old neighbors. Not one of them looked my way.
“Citizens of the Dirt.” Prium spoke quietly, and the crowd leaned in as one. I moved closer, myself, without realizing it. Beside me, Ona did the same.
“Citizens of the Dirt—you’ve come here today to see three of your own exalted. You’ll see them rise up on high, take their first halting steps into a world most of you will never so much as glimpse from afar... but why should that be?” Prium smiled, not his usual mean smirk, but a wide, delighted grin. “Why should it be that our most valued citizens—our prospective Decemites and their families, our workers, our bedrock—should never understand the paradise they aspire to?”
A murmur went through the crowd, little confused twitterings, a flurry of exchanged glances. Prium raised his arms, and the panel behind him became a window. I saw the sky through it, and the towers of Echelon, the faint purple shimmer of the Dome. The breath caught in my throat as I realized what I was looking at—like the security screens in the refinery, only full-color and trained on Sky. The picture dissolved into an interior scene, a vast, open chamber, its glass doors flung wide. A bustling street lay beyond, Lofties going about their business—ladies with parasols, girls in frilly dresses. A man sat by a fountain’s edge reading a book.
“Myla...” Ona grabbed my hand. I squeezed it tight. Someone was sobbing, then lots of someones. Laughter rose and fell, and the crowd roiled and jostled. A woman rose up on tiptoe and was knocked off her feet. She got up, brushed herself off, and stood on tiptoe again.
“This is our gift to you, the first of many.” Prium drew himself up. “Soon, you’ll have screens in all your homes, in your streets, in your workplaces. You’ll be able to look up and see us, any time you want. You might glimpse Lady Lazrad, or spot an Ascended friend. You’ll witness what awaits you—what awaits more of you now than ever before. An opportunity for—”
“What’s he talking about?” Ona’s eyes had gone round. “What does he mean, more of you now than ever before?”
“How should I know?” I shrugged off Ona’s question, but inside, I’d gone cold. The mine would be ready soon. They’d need bodies to work it and guard it from the Outside—a new class of Decemite, more disposable than ever. How many would last a year, let alone five or ten?
“But we’re gathered today to honor three of your number—three heroes, three trailblazers—who’ve laid the foundation for a brighter future for us all.” Prium gestured at the screen, and the picture split in two. I saw my own face, and Ona’s, peeping out at the crowd. Lock stood on the other side, jaw hanging open. He snapped to attention when his picture appeared, staring straight into the camera. Laughter rose all around us, and his cheeks went bright red.
“Why don’t you join me, you three?” Prium held out his hands, as though to welcome us, and someone nudged me from behind. A wave of applause greeted me as I stumbled into the light. Ona trailed after me, hand limp in mine. Her eyes darted to the screen, and she hunched up her shoulders.
“Do I always look like that? All weird and bumpy?” She touched her cheek and frowned.
“Of course not. Don’t—”
“Welcome.” Prium reached for my hand. His nails were gold and tipped with diamonds today. I didn’t want to touch him, but he was parked on the steps, blocking my way. I endured the cold brush of skin as he “helped” me up.
“Myla and Ona Hyde,” he said, speaking over our heads to address the crowd. “And you all know Lock Powell, veteran of more than a thousand missions. The gretha harvested by Mr. Powell alone could keep the Dome over our heads for nearly a decade.” Prium basked in the applause that followed, leaning back slightly, eyes narrowed with pleasure. Lock lowered his head like he wanted to hide.
“Since the dawn of time, earth and sky have thrived in harmony—the sun warming the earth and the earth yielding life.” Prium’s monologue took on a hypnotic cadence. He swayed as he spoke, and the crowd swayed with him, back and forth, unblinking. “Our Echelon exists on the same principle, two halves of a whole, dependent on each other. The Dirt is our soil, the earth that sustains us. Sky is our sun, our guiding light, the greatest minds in Echelon working tirelessly toward a bright tomorrow.”
I bit my lip to hold back a scowl. I couldn’t show my disgust at his falseness, his hypocrisy. Not here, where everyone was watching. But I couldn’t force a smile. Not for this pompous fraud, spouting fine words and saying nothing at all. I glanced at Ona, hoping that she’d seen through him too, but she was glowing, practically vibrating where she stood. Lock was staring at his boots.
“Today, we honor three children who exemplify the best of Dirt and Sky—three children who, through their sacrifice, have ushered in a new age of prosperity for us all. Three children—”
I stood there, stone-faced, drowning in applause. I couldn’t breathe. Prium was clapping with the audience, slow, dry slaps popping through his mic. Movement caught my eye, and I saw Mom and Dad scurrying onstage, and Lock’s entire family, down to his tiniest cousin. They gathered around us, and I understood this was it.
“Come visit when you can,” said Mom. She hugged me first, then Ona, crushing us to her chest. Over her shoulder, I spied Lock’s mom, shell-brittle, clinging to his shirt. Then Dad had my