Fallout

Ground Zero

»What do you want to do, now?«

Sawyer Emory Roth

"What do you want to do, now?" she had been asked, not only by the palace staff when she returned home, but by friends and family alike.

First came the kind but 'let's get this done' employee of the Palace. She sat her down, having already brought a selection of college brochures (of which, at first glance, Sawyer noticed a few too many to be the rich kid type of school), alongside letters from these schools offering scholarships. She had brought a few charities too, because there were heaps of girls who had chosen to do that, and other kinds of things she could do now. Even what the other girls were going into—the ones that had been eliminated after the first few days.

"I don't know," she had told the woman, meaning it. "Maybe college."

She, technically, had missed years of high school thanks to the Unrest that she needed to catch up on. The Palace did a lot on that, and it probably wouldn't take much more for her to catch up on the rest.

"Any favourite school subject?"

"I like music, I guess," she shrugged. "Cooking, too? Maybe art, but I don't know if graffiti counts."

She had listened in a bit onto Minnie's work around business, but none of that appealed to her the least. They bound over enjoying the loud beat of night clubs, not their shared interest in business. The whole concept didn't make much sense to her.

"How about I leave you with these brochures for now, and you sleep over it?"

That had been the lady's verdict. Sleep over it. Think about it. Maybe talk to your family and friends. Sawyer had followed that advice. The same night, she had gone back home to the Nine Lives, the club that she used to work at, surprising her friends and former co-workers.

The reunions were good. There was no ignoring that. Spending two months with strangers didn't replace the importance of friends and friendships she had cared for countless years. Nonetheless, going back into the club where everything was the same.

"What do you want to do, now? Get some rich old dude and make sure he breathes his last breath soon?" one friend joked.

Sawyer shuddered at the idea. "Yeah, definitely not."

"So, do we get you back? We hired a new DJ over the last months, but really, I'd love to get you back. You're much more reliable than that old dude was."

"Thanks," Sawyer replied amused, "but I don't know. I'm still thinking about things. I don't know what happens next."

"Are you going to be invited to parties and all at the Palace? Spend your life as a fancy, rich socialite?"

"Nah, that's not me." She paused. "Although, I definitely want to be invited again. The food there is great."

"Just as great as your dad's?"

Sawyer didn't hesitate to respond. "Definitely not. Dad's better."

He was the next she spoke with. Her older brother, Castellan Roth, had insisted that she should do something while she stayed there with them, before she made a decision, and her father was more than happy to reemploy her in the restaurant. Sawyer took up that offer, probably confirming what her high school teachers always believed of her, that she'd never do more than pick up work at her her father's restaurant.

That restaurant, though, had changed. In hindsight, maybe Nine Lives had changed too. Maybe it felt a little different. A little further away, not like it was when she had been there last. There were more people. The restaurant was fully booked for the next two weeks. Three, by the time Sawyer checked again.

"They hope to see you," her dad told her. Sawyer made sure to let anyone know that she wasn't going to let anyone intrude her personal life anytime soon.

Working in her dad's restaurant was no 'rest of life', though, she knew that for sure. It was too empty, too boring, too 'nothing is happening here and I don't know what to do besides wait tables' for her to enjoy it forever.

Her father knew that, which was why the brochures and promotional materials of colleges and charities alike always ended up on the kitchen table where she would find them. Sawyer finished what she had left of school (and quickly noticed how much easier the private lessons of the Palace were, she had to admit that).

"Do you have any idea?" her brother eventually asked. "What you want to do next?"

"Not really," she admitted. "Never thought about it before."

"College?"

"Yeah, probably."

"You shouldn't go to college because you'll 'probably' want to do it."

She laughed at him. "You sound like these careers advisors."

"Is there anything you'd want to do?"

She shrugged. "Maybe something to help others? Like Andreia, she's an officer. It's not like Fathom doesn't need them. There's still too much crime around. Plus, I heard Alex is thinking about following Leila's path into firefighting? I could do the same. Do what Andreia is already onto."

"Calgary is very different from Fennley," her brother warned her.

"Yeah, I know. Plus, Prince Xander told me that the reason I was out is because my feelings towards the rebels are too strong, or some shit."

"You're too impulsive and angry."

"That'd be that in layman's terms, yeah."

"Didn't they say that that other girl, the one related to a politician, started doing social work? Charity and socialite-ing."

"Zarah Baine, you mean? Yeah, I think she did. She's makin' more headlines with her relationship."

"Are you?"

"Making headlines with my relationships? Nah. I'm not going to date the first rich dude people meet."

"That's good to hear," he laughed. "Maybe charity thought?"

Sawyer pointed towards the brochures. "I do have quite the range, don't I?"

"What do you care about?"

"The fucking rebels to stop?" she shrugged. "They kind of did."

"I know." Her brother nodded. "What about Sumner? Isn't there this big discussion on what to do next?"

"… Yeah, I think Isla talked about that a lot. Maybe. Maybe just Fennley or Fathom."

"Why did you go to the Selection, Sawyer?" he asked.

To be honest, Sawyer wasn't sure if she could give him a decent response to that. She wanted to get out of her hometown, really. That was it. That also wasn't something she could just tell her brother, though.

"I needed something new, I guess."

"Then you probably want something that leads you through the world. You know, I've been thinking of going to Africa. Do that charity work there. You could come along? I'm not sure how they deal with untrained professionals, but surely there'll be something you can do?"

Sawyer shook her head. "Nah. I like Illéa. I want to stay here, for now. Maybe in the far-off future."

"What about your friends? Deylin and Minerva left too, didn't they? What are they doing?"

"Hmm…" Sawyer paused. "I might call Minnie and check what she's going…"

/ / /

About five years later, Sawyer wasn't really living in Fathom, Fennley anymore. As much as she missed her family and friends, travelling through the country fitted her more. That particular evening, she was sitting by Minnie's side, in a high end gala dinner hosted by one of the three charities that she had come to be a member of the board of. Minnie was too, even if this one focused on providing trauma counselling for civilians affected by the Great Unrest.

There was no denial that Sawyer regularly headed home to meet family and friends, but this one particularly, in Waverly not too far off the Pentagon, was one where none of them appeared. Quite ironic, given that she made sure that her hometown and those cities that were taken over by rebels got a decent amount of coverage.

"Did you hear that Zarah has been considering running for governor?" Minnie asked her discreetly as they were eating.

"No, is she? On what platform?"

"I've only heard rumors," Minnie replied. "Do you know if Veira is coming today? I think I just saw her aunt there…"

"No, I don't. It's not really her field, isn't it?"

"Maybe Rie? This is a pretty big dinner. You'd expect some Selected to show up."

"Illéa is large," Sawyer replied. "I haven't seen everyone else yet. This isn't like the veterans foundation where everyone feels like they have to respect veterans and what not…"

Minnie nodded. The two months of etiquette lessons had stuck with both of them; unlike some of the 'new rich' donors, as Sawyer had once heard Veira refer to them, they knew the manners perfectly. Ironic, given their background, but not Sawyer's problem.

"How about Andreia? Do you think, she might come?"

"Nah," Sawyer shook her head. "Do you want me to check on the guest list? I'm on the board of this charity. I can get it, if you want."

Minnie eyed her, before laughing. "

Honestly, why not."

"Do you actually want it? I'm not getting up for nothing."

"Will it kill you? I want to know if old friends are around." Minnie rose. "Let's go," she laughed.

And off they went, ignoring the started chatting. It was Friday, nothing special except that some of them might picked up some news from the Report. She wasn't very worried about missing it; if anything interesting happened, she'd catch on it later, probably.

Therefore, she guided Minnie to the 'backstage' area of the gala where they reached for the guest lists. To Minnie's dismay—and this was far from an uncommon thing to happen—none of the other former Selected were expected to attend. On their way, the chatting continued.

"Do you know what's everyone talking about?" Sawyer eventually asked Minnie, confused. Sure, people were always talking but this sounded like someone had just dropped big news on the whole of Illéa. Little did she know how right she was, then. "It's like someone crashed a wedding or something."

"Maybe," she begun as they turned around, back through the servant corridors of the fancy old mansion where this particular gala was held, "someone is pregnant? Sounds like the kind of news the people here would eat up. Someone important, I mean. Like, I don't know. Some royal. There aren't that many."

Sawyer shrugged at that. "I don't know. Something more scandalous, maybe? I mean, look at everyone. Even the servants are chatting. How much can you say about a pregnancy?"

"Not much, yeah. You could be like 'cool' and 'what gender do you think is it', and that kind of nonsense. Maybe names. Maybe it's something political?"

"Maybe we are overthinking this," Sawyer replied. She pulled the curtain aside, to re-enter the gala space, where ladies, gentlemen and whoever had enough money to attend hushed spoke with another. T o the two girls' dismay, their arrival wasn't quiet enough to avoid questions—not for their disappearance, though.

The instant, they stepped into the room and one person noticed them, a thunderstorm of questions came. "Have you seen the Report? What do you think of it?" they asked. Again and again, the same question.

Sawyer forced a smile. One of the downsides of this life. "No comment," she forced out, "from either of us. Please, do excuse us."

She grabbed Minnie's hand and pulled her right back to the private area, nearly running into a Six that was on their way. Sawyer muttered a half-assed apology, before groaning. She really didn't like this part of her new (not new anymore, a voice in her head noted) life. It wasn't particularly enjoyable—not at all.

"Okay. Phone. Let's see. What's going on? Are we at war with New Asia?"

The news page she opened said otherwise ("Thank god," Minnie muttered) but that didn't mean that the news she eyed there didn't mean a change in status.

Minnie asked, "They're going to keep pestering us. What do you want to do, now?"