Read The Park Service: Book One of The Park Service Trilogy for Free Online

down to the crops and algae refineries on Level 5, but nobody has ever been up to the Foundation headquarters on Level 1. Nobody. At least not from here. Everyone goes up that way to retire, of course, but nobody can come back from Eden.
    Besides managing Eden, the Foundation has the important job of guarding the surface exchange chambers, of making sure that no toxic material makes its way down to Holocene II. Plus, they launch our unmanned exploration craft and analyze the data that returns. And that’s maybe the only thing I am excited about—getting closer to the surface and seeing images of the outer world, no matter how desolate and depressing they are.
    It’s already Sunday again, and I’m back at the beach.
    As I sit on the sand watching the mechanical waves roll in, I see past the illusion for the first time. It’s remarkably real. Or at least it’s how I’d imagine a real beach must be. But when I gaze at the horizon and let my eyes drift, focusing on nothing in particular, I see a line where the pool ends and the projection screen begins. And now I notice the sky is a little too blue, the clouds a little too perfect. Then there are the gulls. They scatter on the shore, making short flights between perfectly bleached pieces of driftwood, but they never fly off into the horizon to join the other gulls forever flapping in the virtual sky.
    “Hey, look—the pride of Holocene II,” Bill calls, jogging over from his guard tower, his bare feet kicking up sand.
    Stopping, he rests his hands on his hips, breathing heavily.
    “I’m getting too old for this job,” he says, smiling. “When I come up to retire in a few years, you better remember me.”
    Retire? It hits me then that I don’t even know how old Bill is. Never asked him. Never asked him anything, really. All these Sundays here and not once did I have the courage to start up a conversation. Maybe because of how everyone’s been treating me this last week, or maybe from desperation because I leave tomorrow, but today I stand up and run to Bill and hug him.
    “Hey, there,” he says. “Okay, kid. We’ll miss you, too.”
    As we walk toward the locker room, I look left to soak up one last view of the familiar fake horizon. It’s hard to believe only a week has passed since Red and his buddies buried me in the sand. It’s even harder to believe that I’ll never see any of them again. When I get to the door, I look up to say goodbye, but Bill didn’t follow me this time and he’s back at the guard tower with his head bent over a flotation device and some impossible lifeguard knot he’s tying. I lift my hand to wave goodbye, but Bill doesn’t look up.
    I step into the shower and close the door.
    Clean and dressed again, I stop on the outlook platform and take in the Valley one last time. All these years I’ve dreamt about leaving, but still, I’m going to miss this view.
    It’s strange to think of the other levels buried beneath us—people living out their lives so close but yet worlds away. Maybe there’s a boy down there just like me, looking up just as I look down. Maybe he’s on his way here to replace me. I wonder if he’s nervous too. I gaze up at the sparkling benitoite and think of five miles of rock and earth pressing down on the cavern ceiling. I wonder just how far up it is to Level 1.
    Back at our housing unit, I say goodbye to my things. My instructions said there’s no need to bring anything, only what I wear. I empty my water-jug weights down the bathroom drain and leave them standing outside the bedroom door. I lay out a clean jumpsuit for the morning. Fresh socks. My newest pair of shoes. Everything else I fold away neat in the drawers. Even my favorite hoodie, too worn and threadbare to wear up to Level 1. Shutting the closet door, I wonder what other boy or girl they’ll assign to my room once my father retires? Will they look out my window, and will they see anyone looking back?
    There’s a tap on the door and then it