The following morning was another cloudy one. The sky threatened rain all day. Atop her hill, Sonoko was joined by her friend Kiku, whose family ran the Chiba farm, right next to the Makino’s. They grew Neon too, just not as much. They had many more crops to watch after including some livestock. Kiku was a friend from school. Another one of the brighter students in Mr. Yamada’s class. The school they attended was for all the children of the farmers. Mr. Yamada was a blessing to their community. It wasn’t very often that someone of his caliber of teaching taught farmers’ children. With his resume, he could’ve easily been a teacher in the Circle where all the people of influence resided. But for some reason, he chose to teach out here. Sonoko and Kiku were especially grateful.

  The schoolhouse was about as close to the city as you could get without entering it. Sometimes the mist was so bad that they had to wear their masks at school. That, of course, was becoming more common as the years went by. The outskirts of the city were dangerous without masks, but the farms used to be completely safe from the smog. It had begun to creep closer and closer.

  Kiku was going to be much more used to wearing her masks since she had been accepted to attend a school in the upper districts of the city. She would bring great honor to her family this way. Sonoko fended off pangs of jealousy.

  “I mean there’s nothing else to do but open it,” Kiku said, continuing their conversation. “Mr. Yamada gave it to you forever ago.”

  “I know but…” Sonoko’s thoughts trailed off.

  “Not getting in wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. You’ve already lived here your entire life, you know how to run the farm.” She was trying to make Sonoko feel better but could only do so from her place of security.

  “I’m honestly more worried about if I did get in,” said Sonoko.

  “What? Are you crazy? You can’t get into PsiTech and not go! President Azuma is a graduate, and Mr. Yamada went there.”

  “He didn’t graduate, though.”

  “That’s not that point. Even Osaki Yuki graduated from there. He’s the only reason we’re doing any of this!” She gestured to all of the farmland that sat in front of them and to the city in the distance. “Plus you would be able to leave the farm and move to the city. You’ve always wanted to do that.”

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  “Not always,” Sonoko muttered thinking back to a simpler time. A time when the forest still seemed inviting.

  “Whatever. The point is we’re arguing over something that doesn’t matter because that letter is still sitting in your house, unopened. It’s not a mystery, you just need to open it.”

  “Even if I get in, I don’t think I can go. I don’t know how my parents would be able to afford one year let alone the full eight year program.”

  “Well, I mean there’s more than one way to pay for it…” Kiku said. She referred to the recent initiative that the government instilled in schools across Arcadia that let students attend for a highly discounted price in exchange for five years of military service. Sonoko didn’t particularly want to do that, it just added another complication to her decision. If she got in, that is. The military was more Shin’s thing.

  “I don’t know if I’m cut out for that.”

  “Why not? People in the military bring great honor to their families. Giving your life to your country is the most honorable thing you can do.”

  “Sure, but even though they don’t need me all the time, I don’t think my parents could handle losing another kid.” Kiku looked at the ground, embarrassed. Sonoko didn’t talk about Shin very often. It hung uncomfortably in the air at school. People had known him too.

  “Can we change the subject?” Sonoko suggested. The wind took a turn to speak.

  “How’s the farm?” Kiku asked. Sonoko immediately wanted the subject to change again.

  “We’re not going to make the quota this season,” Sonoko said in a plain voice.

  “Oh no. That’s not good,” said Kiku, not as comforting as she was trying to be. “That’s why the Watanabe’s had to move to the city.”

  “I know. I’m well aware that we’ll lose the farm,” Sonoko said, sounding snappier than she wanted. “Your soil isn’t depleted?”

  “Yeah, a little,” Kiku said. “But we grow more than just Neon. Your dad should have diversified the crops more.”

  “They just don’t grow the same as they used to.”

  Kiku had nothing to say to refute this. It was true that the output was lower each season. They had heard that the amount of blackouts in the city was nearly doubling every year. The city continued to expand, destroying more farmland in the process. Arcadia had produced their own Neon since the country was founded. Their people were too proud to accept help from another nation. But their options were dwindling. They couldn’t power the city forever.