Takamori,” the doctor told him as Jun settled into a chair opposite of the desk.
He just had to sign the official papers and name the child.
He would be taking his son home within the hour.
In a hushed tone, the doctor mentioned discharge procedures and led them out of the nursery, through a side corridor, and into an office. Would he be a good father? Was he ready?Īs he held his child for the first time, palms sweating, terrified of dropping the tiny bundle of life, Jun felt his fears vanish.Ī perfectly normal baby boy with a head of soft jet-black hair gurgled happily at him, and a warm wash of pride filled Jun from head to toe. His heart thudded in his chest as he went to pick up his child from the hospital. The process of baby-proofing his apartment, of naming his child, and buying toys and formula had entirely consumed his mind. The knowledge that he had a child was the only thing that got Jun through the long weeks of stricter curfew and increased police stops. The fetus had been transferred to an artificial womb to be picked up at his local hospital upon reaching full gestation. She hadn’t even told him that she was pregnant. The only thing his wife had left behind was a thick envelope of official files containing divorce papers and a form relinquishing custody of their child. Six months ago, he’d come home to an empty apartment. He sighed, resting his head back against his seat. Jun kept his head down and went about his life. Just last week, the Enforcers took a child from his complex under suspicion of possessing magical powers. The young couple three floors below him had been arrested for trafficking magical artifacts. His neighbor, an elderly woman, had been dragged away on accusations of shamanism. Just white noise, security theater PSAs, something he’d seen since he was young.īut then it struck closer to home. It had been easy to grow numb to the endless worldwide broadcasts of the trials and executions of various cult members. It was selfish of him to want to save his own son when he’d never cared about the plight of the witches. Enforcer agents would be at his home by now, expecting him to hand over the child for disposal without hesitation. But the Union’s tests were painfully thorough. Fate had dealt him a cruel hand, giving him a child with magic in his blood. Jun took one last look at his son and slowly zipped the bag back up. To save themselves, the corporations pooled their resources and technology to form The Union, a multi-national government with the intent to eradicate all forms of magic. The war had decimated much of Japan’s eastern seaboard, leaving the area uninhabitable seventy-five years later, a ghastly reminder of the battle between corporations and witches that had plunged the world into a nuclear fall. Little remained of the once popular travel destination. Once famous for its natural beauty and hot springs, the town was nestled between the mountains and the Pacific Ocean. Their destination was the ghost town of Osaki. The boy hadn’t even been named yet, his first and only child. Inside was a metal frame that held a tiny baby tightly swaddled against the perpetual cold that plagued the world. He slowly unzipped the mesh-sided duffle bag on the seat next to him. In the quiet of the shielded train, Jun allowed his guard to drop. Buddhist, by the look of his orange robes and ringed staff. He was the only passenger, save for an old monk snoring softly at the back of the car. Jun Takamori glanced around the dimly lit capsule. Even sunflowers, nature’s favorite hyperaccumulators, were unable to take root in the radioactive earth. Now, the tiered paddies only held stagnant brown sludge. The Miyagi prefecture had once produced much of Japan’s rice. The hyperloop capsule was silent as it cut through the cloud of nuclear dust stretching over the countryside. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.Ĭover Artist Diego Silva /dasilvaįormatting By Erica Alexander Serendipity Formatsįor Tina, who offered us sanctuary in Umeå