The Green Ones

Episode 5, Part 1

Registration day. The anxiety is even worse than I expected. So much of my life has been in anticipation of registering for Masa Academy. Now that it has come, I’m careening out of control. And of all people, only Yetic is here to stabilize me.

Verging on frantic, I search the milling crowd for Olin’s sloppy, black braid. I press the palms of my hands into my eyes. Lack of sleep compounds the matter.

Sometime after midnight I had awoken in a strange place, surrounded by strange, sleeping people. Awkwardly, I had found myself clothed in a stained, second-hand tzotzomatli—my sparring unitard, along with most of my memories of the fight, long gone. And there next to me lay Yetic, his rhythmic snoring the only anchor in the ever-shifting sea of my new life.

During the early morning hours I hadn’t slept. All I could think of were the dozen different ways this day could end in death or worse. So many moving parts—my braid, the icpitls that Zorrah programmed, our new records, blood tests and the possibility Huatiani had confided the truth of our identities with someone else.

I freeze as I glimpse the fleeting image of a dark-skinned face pushing through the crowd meters away. There it is again. But it couldn’t be. I duck down and look the other direction. Why would Neca come here? To say goodbye? Again? In my exhausted state, I start to tremble.

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty of time to find them.” Yetic wraps an arm around my shoulder and parts the crowd in front of us.

My natural instinct is to recoil from his touch. But Yetic has been a solid leader over the last twelve hours. He eluded Huemac and his goons after the bout, found us a safe place to spend the night, and got us to the gates of the ōllamaliztli stadium.

He’s no Neca. Then again, Olin and I don’t need a tender-hearted romantic like Neca to get us through our years in Masa. We need the brute determination of Yetic.

Still, every time I look into his face, I catch a glimpse of the madness that frothed from his eyes in the cage—the uncontrolled animal gorging at the trough of rage. The two of us have more in common than I want to admit.

 “I want this day to be over.” Standing on tiptoes, I spot the back of a head that could be Olin’s and force myself to banish the thought of Neca.

“What? You’re not in the least bit excited to check out the competition? To stand out above the rank and file?” Yetic fills his lungs as if savoring another victory in the cage.

I shake my head. “Survival is all I’ve known for too long.”

“I hate to break it to you, Bluehair, but beyond those doors, “Yetic nods toward the stadium gates, “survival’s no longer enough.”

I pull him forward.

He continues. “The two of us—”

“The four of us.” I correct him.

“The four of us have to be the best. In the end, it’s only the best who survive.”

“Well then it’s all about survival after all, and that’s something I know plenty about.” I tug on him. “This way, I think I see them.”

The ōllamaliztli stadium is situated on the spine that divides the twin cities of New Teo. It’s the one place where mortals and immortals are almost allowed to mix. For a typical ōllamaliztli ballgame the mortal side of the stadium fills to bursting with workers while the other side spaciously hosts a few thousand immortals. Even so, the stands on the immortal side are much higher, to block any potential view into Immortal City.

Today, the only spectators will be families who’ve come to say their final goodbyes. As the crowd outside the stadium gates swells and jams together, the stickiness of the early morning air intensifies.

“Olin!” He turns slightly, and I recognize him. “Zorrah!” I push my way through a final knot of people, Yetic in tow. “I’m so glad to see you.”

Olin stares at me, deadpan. He shakes his head. “After everything we’ve been through, you still don’t trust me? Or am I just a baby to you? Your pathetic little brother.”

“What are you talking about?” My brother’s anger strikes me like a fist to the gut. I sway on my feet. My actions from last night come crashing down, forcing me to face their repercussions.

“What am I talking about? What am I—” Olin squeezes his temples. “You’re my sister for gods’ sake, and you concoct a plan that put’s your life at risk without even informing me?”

Zorrah clings tighter to his side, distracting him.

Olin sputters before continuing. “I don’t know what’s more insulting, that you don’t think I can help, or that you don’t ask until you’ve got no choice.”  He lowers his voice. “I killed for you.”

I close my eyes and scrape together reserves of strength. “There wasn’t time. I did what was best for all of us.”

“In your opinion.” Olin thrusts out his hand, my uniform clutched in it. “This may come as a shock to you, sis. But you’re not always right.”

I take the uniform and open my mouth to argue.

Olin cuts me off. “My entire life, I’ve listened to you. These last two years I’ve followed your lead without wavering. You wanna know why?” He glares at me.

Exhausted, I nod my head.

“Not because you were right, but because you were all I had.” He softens slightly. “We need to stick together. I know that. So we have, and we will. But not like this.” He points at Yetic with his chin.

Finally we progress to the conflict I had anticipated. “Yetic has agreed to help us. He improves our chances of survival.” I shift my stare from Olin to Zorrah and back to Olin. They’re waiting for me to say more. At first, I’ve no idea what. Then I realize they’ve deduced the arrangement between me and Yetic. I shrug. It’s not like I had planned on keeping it a secret.

Yetic steps forward, puffing his chest and straightening his shoulders in response to the silent challenge.

“Yes,” I blurt out, “I’ve agreed to couple with him.” I cross my arms and glare.

 Olin is unfazed. “In a matter that directly effects my future, you don’t even think to consult me?”

“I’ve been busy figuring out how to keep us together and keep us alive. You should be doing the same.” I indicate Zorrah with a flicker of my eyes.

Olin blushes and stares at his feet.

Clearly he’s thought about coupling with her, but hasn’t worked up the nerve to ask. Or maybe he thinks I’ll take care of it. This is one thing I’m not going to do for him. “That’s the last I’ll speak of it.”

The pop and buzz of the daily identification burn crackles around us, indicating it’s 7:30am. The milling crowd stills. All at once we inhale the ionized air along with a foreboding anticipation.

Our means of identification is about to change forever. As masazin the ID burn will no longer matter. Instead we’ll bear the band, the mark of our barracks that will serve as the intermediate step between our lives in Worker City and our lives as ometeotl. If we survive the transition.

Before any of us can think to speak, the stadium gates swing open. The nearest pair are less than twenty meters away.

“This is it.” Yetic huddles us together. “Slow and steady. We’ve got a long morning ahead of us.”

Olin presses his shoulder against mine as we shuffle forward. “There’s one thing you still need to understand.”

I take his hand.

He doesn’t withdraw it. “Masa is your dream, not mine.”