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healthy side of nutrient-rich corn sprinkled with pepper. Ben squinted as he passed, spotting a few cups of beer-battered crickets as well — a delicacy in his own home and one he didn’t enjoy. Those were Tahlia’s favorite dish, not his.
    They walked to the end of the corridor, to the open, arcing entrance leading into Karman Park. The sight of it made Ben feel a little better. He put a hand on his sister’s shoulder as they passed underneath the sleek, silver arch. Underground parks were a thing Ben and Tahlia could both enjoy: Tahlia loved the ecology and Ben loved the architecture. And while Karman Park did have the distinction of being the oldest underground park in Neo Berlin, that didn’t diminish its grandeur.
    Birds whistled from somewhere inside the canopy of a weeping willow tree, standing tall between two narrow support pillars lined with creeping yellowish vines. At the foot of the tree was a wide green space of carefully manicured grass — genetically modified, of course — with just enough room for two picnic tables. One of the picnic tables was occupied by a family, the other by a park employee eating a Fa-Chicken sandwich. The knees of his gray uniform were stained green and brown from the grass and dirt.
    They walked through a small grove of Athenian fruit trees. Tahlia reached up and grabbed an apple, plucking it. Ben looked above the trees, toward the ceiling where a carefully constructed array of silver hexagonal panels were reflecting sunlight onto the reflective ceiling. It was an amazing, ages-old invention. Panels on the surface captured the sunlight and sent it through fiber optic cables to the reflecting panels. The light was strong enough for trees. For flowers and grass. Strong enough even to cast shadows on the seven wooden walkways that ran in figure-eights around the green spaces — .
    Beyond the park was access to the restricted mag-rail line, an old line that Ben had once researched and found to have a fundamental design flaw: the line’s southern route bumped up against the sewage system, which meant there was no room to add a second line. After the Specters invaded and forced everyone to live inside the safety of the city, the concept of “expansion” no longer existed. An entirely new mag-rail line needed to be designed, this one directly under the old one.
    Two Spartans stood sentry beside the door. Dad and Mom waved their ID badges for the soldiers, who stepped aside without a change in their stern facial expressions. A pair of black doors whooshed open, leading them through a clean, white corridor.
    “Specters aren’t really ghosts,” Dad said to Ben.
    “I know, Dad.”
    “They’re simply negatively charged energy.”
    Ben laughed. “And we kill them with positive thoughts and feelings.”
    Dad smiled. “Your Coterie will depend on you out there. You have to know how the Specters function.”
    “We’d know more if we were allowed to study them in-depth. We don’t even know why they hide underground at night! We just guess and observe from a distance.”
    “Rules are rules. Parliament makes them and we follow them.”
    “But we don’t know anything , not really,” Ben said. Ahead, he could see the hall opening up into a larger room with thin pillars. The station. Already, there were people waiting on the platform. Ben hated empty halls with bare walls — it just seemed like such a waste of space. “I mean, we know they consist of some kind of combination of electrons and an unknown molecule we call ectoplasm that somehow creates this ghost-like creature, right?”
    “Right.”
    “And we know they can be destroyed with a high-powered proton charge.”
    “Right.”
    “And that’s it. That’s all we know. After all these years.”
    Dad gently squeezed his neck, rubbing his longissimus muscle with his thumb. “Just make sure you take care of your sister. We’ll talk when you get back.”
    “If I do.” Ben immediately regretted saying it. He expected