Prototype Dorian

29.

Four days to NovaTopia

This is the longest time I've ever been around General Caelum. Aside from her looks, I hate everything else about her. The way she avoids me, as if I'm the filth on the street she needs to hurry past. Her pompous demeanor, as if she is too good for this place. And worst of all, the way she talks to Lara.

I don't know how she did it, but she definitely manipulated Lara into working extra hard and wearing that stupid rule bot all the time like a prisoner. And for what? Lara is already a hard worker and a rule follower by nature. She didn't need to be pushed further like that.

Lara's stress from General Caelum was so obvious, too. I could tell when General Caelum had checked in on her—and dangled her sponsorship in front of her—because Lara would be overly hard on herself. As the Selection neared, she became more and more on edge, lashing out at herself over the smallest mistakes.

Only after leaving the Tower and being away from the pressures of the Selection did Lara feel like herself again. I still remember her serene smile while we were on Devon's bed. I've never seen her so relaxed.

That's the Lara I like, not the one that General Caelum brings out.

I follow the general to her living unit. The door slides open, and my jaw drops.

I thought General Lorensky's living unit was impressive, with so much space and a breathtaking view from his floor-to-ceiling windows. But General Caelum's is that and more. The furniture looks expensive and bespoke, and lavish artwork and pieces adorns the walls, ceiling, and shelves. In the living room, there is a large screen across from two armchairs, flanked by rows of weapons. Imposing, unused weapons.

General Caelum takes a seat in one of the chairs.

"Don't sit," she tells me.

I wasn't going to, but being told not to—so typical of her—only infuriates me more.

"Why did you bring me here, General?" It takes every bit of my willpower to ask my question without sounding snide.

Leaning back, she scrutinizes me with a mix of curiosity and disgust. Her auburn hair, long and wavy, drapes over the back of her armchair like a fiery waterfall. I really do hate everything else about her, aside from her looks.

"I want to tell you a story." She flicks her hand. The screen in the room lights up. "Pull up the 'NovaTopia' photo album," she instructs, and an image appears.

It's a photo of a toddler sitting on a marble floor, surrounded by toys. Their hair is so light it practically blends with their skin. Behind the toddler, a large window looks out into a garden brimming with greenery and flowers. This looks like a palace in the most well-maintained regions of Ground Earth.

"I was three," General Caelum explains. "This is the living unit I grew up in."

She flicks her hand again. The screen shows a young child now, with a slightly closer resemblance to her. Younger General Caelum wears a toothy grin—so wide and full of joy—while holding onto a backpack. She's on a cobbled street that looks like the streets on Ground Earth, except it's cleaner, shinier, and more brightly lit. The cobblestones have a rustic charm, but they also somehow feel... too perfect. Too flawlessly constructed. Behind her, there are a few more parents with their children. Everyone is smiling and laughing.

"This was me on my first day of school. A well-rounded education is very valued in NovaTopia, so the teachers were great, and there's a lot of support. I have nothing but good memories."

I've seen NovaTopia in the videos they show in cadet class and during the Selection, but I've always thought its portrayed beauty was exaggerated. These two photos are enough to prove that NovaTopia is that beautiful.