Page 120 of The Towering Sky
RYLIN
RYLIN SAT ATher kitchen table, her tablet arrayed before her in composition mode, trying unsuccessfully to focus on her NYU essay. But her mind felt far too scattered to stay pinned on any one topic.
She hadn’t seen Cord in class today. After all the commotion over Avery Fuller, he was hardly the only person to have missed school. In spite of everything, Rylin found herself hoping that he wasn’t taking the news too hard. He’d known Avery practically his entire life. And of course, this wasn’t the first time that Cord had lost someone he cared about.
Rylin hadn’t known Avery especially well, yet they had been pulled together by a set of exceptional circumstances: Eris’s death, the Mariel investigation... and the fact that they both cared about Cord.
Sometimes Rylin had wanted to hate Avery, just a little. Shewas always so perfectly put together, her smile just so, while Rylin ran around with sloppy ponytails in a perpetual state of uncertainty. And Avery and Cord had been friends for so long. It was intimidating, the way they had all those shared memories, a lexicon of jokes that ran between them, something private Rylin could never hope to crack.
She had wanted to hate Avery, and yet she couldn’t, because even amid all of that Avery was invariably nice. She could have been the world’s greatest mean girl, Rylin thought, but she never chose to be.
Then again, it was probably pretty easy to be a nice person when you had everything in the world you could possibly want. Or at least, almost everything.
Rylin was still shocked by what Avery had been hiding. To think that beneath her pristine porcelain veneer, she had been in love with Atlas, the one person the world would never let her have. Ultimately Avery had died for it. What had she been thinking, Rylin kept wondering, to just give up like that—to burn her family’s apartment while she was still inside it?
She sighed and looked again at the essay prompt.What matters most to you, and why?
Suddenly Rylin knew her answer.Stories, she keyed into the answer box.
Stories are the only real magic that exists. A story can breach the impossible distance between individuals, take us out of our own life and into someone else’s, if only for a moment. Our hunger for story is what makes us human.
Maybe it was her conversation with Hiral, or the fact that she still felt betrayed by what Cord had done. Maybe it was the strangeness of Avery Fuller, the princess of New York, doing something so irrevocably self-destructive. But even though sheknew it was an unsophisticated and potentially embarrassing opinion—that no one serious ever admitted to this, especially not for university programs—Rylin kept typing.
In particular, we long for stories that make us happy.
Stories makesensein a way that the real world fails to. Because stories are the cleaned-up version of real life, a distilled version of human behavior that is more comic and more tragic and more perfect than real life. In a well-made holo, there are no lost narrative threads or stray shots. If the camera zooms in on a detail, that means you should pay attention to it, because that detail has some crucial meaning that will become apparent. Real life isn’t like that.
In real life the clues don’t add up to anything. Roads lead to dead ends. Lovers don’t make epic romantic gestures. People say ugly things, and leave without a good-bye, and suffer in senseless ways. Story threads are dropped with no resolution.
Sometimes what we need is a story—a well-made, uplifting story—to help the world make sense again.
Rylin’s eyes stung, her fingers flying over the surface of her tablet. She remembered something Cord had said about there not being endings in life and realized that he was right. The only endings were the ones that people made for themselves.
There aren’t any happy endings in real life, because there aren’t any endings in life, only moments of change, she wrote, repeating his words. There’s always another adventure, another challenge, another opportunity to find happiness or chase it away.
I want to study holography because my dream is to create stories. I hope that my holos someday inspire people to leave the world better than they found it. To believe in true love. To be brave enough to fight for happiness.
Rylin held her thumb over her tablet to submit the essay and smiled through her unexpected tears.
Her story was only beginning, and she had every intention of writing it herself.
Later that night, when she heard a knock on the front door, Rylin gave a dramatic sigh. “Seriously, Chrissa?” she snapped, going to open the door. “You need to bring your ID ring to volleyball; it’s starting to really—”
“Hey,” Cord said softly.
Rylin was too stunned to do anything except blink at him. Her pulse was suddenly running haywire, plucking a vibrant, erratic rhythm against the surface of her skin. Cord Anderton was at her apartment, down on the 32nd floor.
“Before you slam the door in my face, please hear me out,” he said quickly. “I thought a lot about what you said the other night. And you were right. I shouldn’t have helped Hiral move away. I never meant to manipulate you or hurt you or tell you what to do. Actually,” Cord added, with a tentative smile, “I would really appreciate it if you would tellmewhat to do, because I can make a real mess of things sometimes.”
“I did tell you what to do. You just didn’t listen,” Rylin pointed out.
Cord shifted uncomfortably. “I really am sorry.”
“I’m sorry too. We seem to have a real knack for hurting each other.”
“That’s because the better you know someone, the easier it is to hurt them,” Cord replied. “See? I actually learned something in psychology class.”
Rylin wasn’t so sure. Did she really know Cord? Sometimes it felt as if she did, as if he’d lowered his guard to reveal his real self, beneath the money and sarcasm. But then when she was alone again, Rylin always doubted that it had happened.
