Saturday greets me with clear blue sky, the walk to the shopping centre under the sun as comforting as a warm hug. Cyclists ring their bells as they snake between pedestrians on the curb. A salty breeze carries the faint smell of vegemite toast and roasted coffee from the café carts lining the street. I can’t help but feel more at peace knowing Ernie is being supervised at Marco’s house and that Roselyn had already left for the day before I woke.

  The Sky Mall has an interesting architectural design. It rises in a gradual incline from the street shops near the United World entrance at the harbour end of Pitt Street, layering upward until it peaks in the halo-shaped library, the towering skyscraper above Central train station. Its increasing height allows for magnificent views back towards Sydney Harbour.

  The mall’s exterior flashes with walls of glass and steel, the halo crown catching the morning sun like a polished ring in the sky. The mall feels like a city of its own, with offices scattered between gleaming retail floors, restaurants spilling aromas into the air, and a maze of tunnels beneath the surface.

  The underground clubs by the stations give the tunnels a different life after dark, shadows pulsing with music and danger. I’d never feel safe wandering there once evening falls, but that’s ok, the high-up library offers my preferred atmosphere of escape. The library end of the mall is close to our school, the Central Institute of Knowledge, and the ease of accessibility from Wynyard, Town Hall and Central train station makes the shopping centre a popular hangout for teenagers and adults alike.

  With its abundance and diversity of products and services, the mall feeds the economy, and access is given to far more power than the dimly rationed households of residential Sydney. I can either wait in the long queue here at the bottom of the building to pay to use the elevator and go directly up to the library, or use the curved escalators to slowly ascend to the top.

  I choose the escalators. In the Sky Mall they’re designed unlike anywhere else, spiralling in a double helix that represents the DNA of Australia. The space above Central station and below the library is hollowed out for them: two vast escalators, each sixteen people wide, one carrying riders past each floor all the way up to the library, the other sweeping back down. The steady motion creates a low vibration as a faint breeze brushes past while the escalator pulls me upward. Looking down at the shrinking station below brings on a slight dizziness, the constant murmur of conversation rising and falling like background music.

  Here, unlike anywhere else, we stand on the right side, a dividing line marking where riders must keep still while others exit left at each floor. This is because it doesn’t stop at each exit point and keeps rising. It does flatten briefly to suit trolleys, prams and wheelchairs, but it’s up to people to get on and off the left side in time. Otherwise, they will have to carry on to the next exit. It’s a bit like exiting a motorway when driving. It’s not for everyone, but it’s convenient and there’s always the paid elevator option.

  I stand on the right of the escalator, passing the time by watching people on the way up. A cluster of teenagers in oversized hoodies are standing on the left, gossiping loudly and blocking passers-by. A man in a crumpled suit, eyes glued to his phone, nearly topples as he rushes backwards for his missed floor. Ah, disrespectful people are the worst! I wish it moved quicker too, but society has rules for a reason. I also watch a couple pass by on their way down. They share a quiet laugh, his hand steadying hers on the rail. Sometimes, I wonder how anyone gets the time to have a relationship. There are too many personal duties to get through before having to add the responsibilities of another person.

  At the top of the escalators, I don’t look back at the big drop below me and hurry to pass some well positioned clothing shops on my way to the centre of the halo’s bottom level. The shops open out with glass fa?ades, animated screens layered across them showing curated scenes of people laughing in rooftop bars or strolling barefoot along beaches, selling the dream of a life their products claim to give.

  The smaller escalators and ramps lead up to the middle tier, where I’m meeting Claudia and Jono to work on our Resource Management assignment in one of the study rooms.

  I slow again near the fourth shop, a familiar voice piquing my curiosity.

  “If you were the sun, my life would revolve around you.”

  Why is Sam flirting with the shop assistant?

  “So, you’re a planet?”

  The shop assistant is not very amused by Sam. She appears to be a girl no older than us, her nametag pinned to her crisp emerald-green top, as she bites back a sigh.

  I can relate to not being able to run away from work just to avoid idiots.

  Sam misses every clear signal of rejection; her crossed arms, her firmly pressed lips, and continues trying to correct his self-made pickup line for the fun of it. His t-shirt is orange but clashing with the fluorescent pink shorts, colours loud enough to test the shop assistant’s patience almost as much as his lines.

  “Haha, your light would shine so bright… ah…” His voice trails off as he struggles to think.

  “That you’d have to turn me off?” She presses.

  Well, he doesn’t seem to be doing this so successfully either. I see Sabina half-hidden behind the worker’s back, scrolling through the digital fashion catalogue, her sharp nails picking out her favourites before she slips each chosen item into her bag. As always, black defines her look, fitted clothing matched with shiny earrings and a touch of makeup, the dark purple lipstick blending smoothly, leaving the impression of effortless simplicity. The items are high-quality brands. I’m sure she has no intention of paying for any of these.

  Roselyn is staying clear of her, picking out items of her own. She holds up a black silk slip dress, twisting it against her body in the mirror, her bare legs catching the sun as it pours in from the glass panels enclosing the escalator atrium. The way Dom gives his seal of approval to her picks, I’m sure it’s just to show herself off, trying on skimpy clothes that she’ll never be able to afford.

  Dom leaves Roselyn to walk over and save his friend from further embarrassment. He wears black denim shorts with a tight black shirt left untucked, sneakers matching with their long laces pulled tight, a small sign of the control beneath his ease.

  “Hahaha Sam, you need to learn some real pickup lines!”

  He turns to look the girl in the eyes, confident and apologetic.

  “Like, I’m sorry for my friend here. He is kind of embarrassed. He would like your number. He wants to know how to get a hold of me in the morning.”

  The girl takes a moment to process the pickup line. She then smiles and gives an interested giggle.

  “Yes, that would have been much more effective!”

  Ok, maybe it was to take the opportunity to instead flirt with the shop assistant and embarrass Sam even more, like the good friend he is.

  Roselyn senses the danger, straightens as tall as she can, and strides over to seize Dom’s arm. Her grip is too tight to be affectionate, anchoring him to her while she glares the girl’s smile away. Her voice drips with forced sweetness, the kind that could turn to venom any second.

  “Is she flirting with you babe?”

  Dom looks at her and back to the shop assistant.

  He gives a sly smile, “Yes, I think she is.”

  The girl’s smile returns.

  Roselyn realises that it’s a good time to leave this situation and cloaks it in an act of careless ease.

  “Then let’s leave Sam to his failed attempts and go somewhere with a male shopkeeper.”

  Dom gives a cocky reply, “I can’t promise he won’t flirt with me too!

  Roselyn continues the conversation while pulling him out of the shop by the arm.

  “That’s ok. If he does, I’ll join in and even make you both breakfast in the morning.”

  Dom’s jealousy returns, Roselyn walking away with a content smile, reassured that she’s won the moment.

  I decide that it is a good time to head toward the study rooms again. I don’t particularly wish to get caught watching their crimes so soon after last night. What’s more, I was so busy watching the drama of my sister’s worst life choices that I missed Sabina leaving the store. No wonder she was fine with Sam attempting his horrible pickup lines as a distraction!

  I make my way to the middle tier of the Sky Mall’s halo. Ahead, a wide circular space stretches out, divided from the library by thick, soundproof glass. Bathrooms sit on either side of the escalators, and rows of storage lockers stand under the secure watch of four cameras from every angle.

  I check my phone. Jono has booked the lorikeet room in the Australian animal’s section. Inside, the study rooms are split into four themed quadrants: Australian landscapes, animals, botany, and Indigenous heritage.

  Each room is given a name instead of a number, along with an interesting fact to go with it. There are no transparent windows to see into the rooms, and the walls are soundproofed with booking-based lock codes to keep wandering tourists from disturbing us.

  Furniture changes from room to room: different chairs, sometimes a table, always a screen. They don’t provide any power outlets, otherwise people would practically live in the rooms for the free electricity. There is also a camera in every room to ensure the occupants are respectful with the city’s property.

  Today, however, I don’t have the entry code and have to wait outside the room facing the door and wall covered in beautiful, evil birds. These rainbow lorikeets are painted in a riot of colour: green feathers streaked with light, a red chest glowing like fire that fades into a patch of yellow crowning the neck, and a blue head topped with an orange beak.

  Tourists love to see them, but they aren’t the friendliest of birds. Some of the fun facts on the wall say they can live up to twenty-five years as pets and that they carry pollen from flower to flower, helping plants reproduce. I still think that I prefer bees to these rainbow troublemakers, even if they didn’t produce delicious honey.

  C’mon Claudia, I’m making myself hungry!

  I wait outside the room for another fifteen minutes before Claudia finally appears around the bend, Jono trailing closely behind. She turns up in a red and white striped top with light jeans, colours simple but coordinated, a tote bag swinging at her side as if time were never pressing.

  She gives me a light hug, complaining about all of the people blocking her way on the escalators and making her late. Even in the warmth, Jono keeps his hood up, a small emblem stitched on the chest like a gaming sigil, the back traced with stylised ruins arranged into a crest of ancient mythology.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Jono opens the study room door and walks in ahead, eager to leave the awkwardness behind. I notice, as always, there’s no apology as we follow him in, but that’s Claudia.

  The power cuts off in the room after forty minutes of writing and referencing. It’s time to switch rooms to our next booking in the kookaburra room. It’s only a short walk away, but out of the corner of my eye I catch Dom leaving the platypus room with an even more arrogant look of superiority than usual, his laces this time hanging loose from his sneakers.

  Following him, out of the room is Roselyn. I have never seen her hair as unkempt as it is now, frizzy and flowing in all directions. She is wearing a red top that covers her shoulders with three buttons left open from her neck down, leaving the top of her chest exposed. Her black skirt is shorter than I approve of, paired with flat black sandals.

  There is a sight I wish I could unsee! Sabina reacts similarly to me as they greet Dom outside of the room, and Sam grasps his hand to pull him into a celebratory chest pump. That’s enough for me, and I escape into our second study room for the day.

  I take some time to refocus, blankly staring at the assignment on my tablet for a good ten minutes. The library has cameras in every room to make sure people don’t misuse or vandalise them! If anyone broke or blocked one, security would have been all over it. I can only assume they somehow found out which room has a malfunctioning camera. If only they put their minds to being productive instead of wasting their lives!

  My contemplation could have stretched on much longer, but Claudia grabs my attention. The art of silence is not one she specialises in.

  “This book is quite interesting. A bit far-fetched, but I think that you’ll be interested in what it says.”

  I somehow don’t think so, but I don’t interrupt her.

  Claudia projects her tablet onto the study room’s screen. In her search of the digital catalogue for United World Resources History, she has opened a book to its executive summary.

  The Forgotten Vision: A History of United World

  She reads it aloud.

  “Most people know the story of United World’s formation after the Information War, when a global peace treaty was enforced and maintained. Acting as a worldwide governing body, United World is able to provide standardised regulations and decision-making across the globe, while centralising their management on a country-by-country basis. This is not a typical history book listing treaty dates and participants or tracing United World’s evolution over time.

  Instead, this book covers the forgotten, hidden facts behind their formation.

  You may wonder: what gave United World the credibility to be responsible to govern the entire world better than any alternate government or entity? Why would so many nations give up their democratic right to elect their own representatives? As resources deplete and overpopulation continues to be an issue, will our past choices slowly lead to the end of life on this planet?

  To answer these questions, the book first discusses the terminology of the visionaries who first proposed United World. Here, the word ‘visionary’ is believed to mean much more than strategic foresight, carrying a clairvoyant nature instead.

  In this context, we discover that clairvoyance is not the same as the magic power often portrayed in fantasy films. Rather, it is the ability to feel the interconnected energies of the universe in order to receive its messages, unconstrained by time or distance. It is inconclusive as to why people with these alignments have the vision to perceive future events. The best explanation is that history repeats itself. By connecting with present energies, clairvoyants perceive a range of possible futures, each with varying likelihoods based on repeating patterns of universal law.

  Humans with this capability were believed to possess a more balanced capacity to capably govern the world than relying solely on artificial intelligence, which can only base its learnings from biased data. They could understand and empathise with the needs of each nation, and were the key influence in persuading so many countries to join the United World treaty.”

  Claudia pauses briefly to let the information sink in, and then rushes through the end of the executive summary.

  “Over time, it has also remained unproven whether clairvoyants are still the main leaders, litigators, and decision-makers of United World. We were, however, able to determine that the trait is not genetic, which brings us back to the third question. If there is no hidden academy devoted to developing this gift in capable people who can keep the world balanced and at peace, it is difficult to see a positive outcome under the continued governance of United World.”

  She looks at me to see my reaction to the book and continues before I have a chance to speak.

  “Of course, I can’t imagine there’s enough truth here to discredit how United World governs globally. But it did make me think back to our feeling of being watched. You don’t believe there’s anything to it, do you? It also seems a bit too specific to be completely fabricated…”

  I sit still in thought. This is certainly a distraction from my sister.

  I adjust to the change of topic and respond to Claudia.

  “I don’t believe magic like that exists, and there’s certainly no reason they would waste a power like that watching you and me. It would still be interesting to read, just to discover how it reaches those conclusions. After we finish school, I’ll get some time back to myself. I think that I’ll give it a read then to put my mind at ease. I’m sure there’s nothing to it. What do you think Jono?”

  Jono seems surprised to be remembered and included in our conversation. Claudia does more talking than listening in that relationship too.

  He settles himself to provide his input.

  “It is unusual that the book is presented as an investigation in history, rather than a myth-buster or fiction. I couldn’t say for sure what I think without reading the whole book to see what their evidence is based on.”

  He stops to think before continuing and it gives Claudia space to talk again.

  “Oh yes, this was just the summary, and we may never know the truth of it, but it was an interesting thing to find!”

  Jono’s reply was not exactly consoling, but I don’t want to build up my worry again on one of my few relaxing days.

  “Thanks for sharing, Claudia. I’d prefer not to talk about it any further. There’s nothing we can do about being watched if we can’t catch them doing it. So, like we agreed at school, it’s best not to give it any more thought. I’m so close to finishing this assignment anyway! I don’t think I’ll get my interview to include, but if I do, I can always add that in later.”

  Claudia’s gossiping expression softens into a more natural enthusiasm. “I will be glad to finish too!”

  Turning to Jono, she asks, “How much have you done so far? Can you help me with mine next?”

  Jono shows her his completed assignment, and he doesn’t say much, but his face carries a mixed look of pride that he is smart enough to help her, and a familiar shadow of resentment at once again feeling used for answers.

  I finish tying my arguments together demonstrating the different components of renewable energy production and how various allocations could benefit our country in each key sector. The decisions aren’t simple, but even with power shortages in many households, I find myself appreciating the stability and fairness United World provides, often with little thanks.

  Claudia saves her work, switches her tablet into sleep mode, and tucks it into her bag. She stands up to stretch and breaks the quiet.

  “That’s enough for me! Let’s find some lunch. I’m starving.”

  Jono takes back his tablet and puts it away too. I’m as ready as I will be without a first-hand quote. I don’t have a lot of money, but it feels as if my responsibilities have been taken out of my hands, at least for today.

  “Why not? I could splurge on some food for a change!”

  Jono looks eager too and obediently follows Claudia and me out of the room. We take the chance to use a cleaner bathroom before heading up to the top tier, where sunlight streams through the glass and shelves of books sit out of reach, surrounded by numerous dining options.

  Claudia stops in front of a restaurant called Soup Bowling, laughter spilling out from its games-bright interior beside Si Food, an upmarket Peruvian seafood restaurant with rustic elegance and a seaside-meets-mountain atmosphere.

  “They do great soups here. Have you ever tried it?" She asks me.

  I hesitate, cautious about how much a place like this might cost.

  “I haven’t, but I don’t have much money on me today…”

  Claudia reassures me it’s cheap and fun.

  “Oh, it doesn’t cost much. You actually get to go ten-pin bowling for your soup. If you get a strike by knocking down all ten pins in one bowl, you win a one-kilogram hot pot with the ingredients of your choice. A spare, knocking down ten pins across two bowls, earns you any premium soup, or you can choose to try again for the strike. Anything less than a spare and you still get the standard soup. It’s a bit of fun!”

  “Hmm… I really don’t like to gamble.”

  “It’s not gambling. You get a soup off the menu no matter how you bowl!”

  “Ok, when you put it like that, I guess it’s not too bad. Have you been here before, Jono?

  He opens his mouth to answer, but Claudia replies for him instead.

  “Jono’s the one who introduced it to me. He threw a strike and gave me the huge hot pot. It was so good!”

  I hope that he was able to enjoy the soup he ended up with too.

  “Ok then, let’s do it!”

  We enter the restaurant, and the staff confirm how it works. The standard menu still offers a comforting-looking bowl of beef pho, but I would really love a sancocho today if I can manage a spare!

  We pay for the meal and pick out our bowling balls before moving to the top of the lane. A rainbow of colours awaits us, with three different finger sizes to choose from. I choose a purple one, Claudia goes for green, and Jono sticks with black. I guess that must be the cloudy end of the rainbow.

  I have never bowled before, so we let Jono go first, watching very closely to see how he does it. We’re playing in front of a row of tables inside, with passing onlookers outside stopping to watch for entertainment. There will definitely be playful banter as we line up our shots, and light jeering if we miss the pins completely.

  Jono fixes his eyes on the pins, the ball resting in his left hand. He takes a few steps forward, planting his right foot ahead as his left arm swings back and then forward like the pendulum of an antique clock. The ball glides smoothly down the lane at a slight angle, striking the middle pin. Nine pins topple, the back left wobbling before staying upright. His second shot cleanly knocks it down, the spare earning him a soup from the premium menu. The bystanders give a polite applause. I suspect they prefer the failed attempts.

  Claudia bowls next, sending her first shot straight into the gutter. The onlookers burst out laughing, their reaction far louder than their earlier applause. Her carefree nature is a sharp contrast to Jono’s steady concentration at the lane. Her second bowl clips a lone pin at the back of the setup, and she celebrates wildly as if it were a strike. The crowd joins in, rejoicing with her triumph over the single pin.

  Jono helps me get ready, explaining that it’s normal for beginners to stand head-on and roll the ball gently down the middle. I prefer to try and do it the proper way though, sending my first bowl flying up in the air and missing the lane completely. I blush, keeping my eyes fixed straight ahead, too embarrassed to look at the people nearby who are almost falling over with uncontrollable laughter, including Claudia. I definitely don’t want to see how the owner is reacting!

  My next bowl still lifts higher than I’d like, but after a few bounces it manages to knock over four pins at the end of the lane. Jono congratulates me on the improvement. The crowd hasn’t quietened much, but I’m quite pleased with myself. That bowl was a lot straighter. After a few more practices, I might actually get the hang of this.

  The savoury scent of herbs and broth drifts through the air as we order our soups and find a table with a view of the lanes, perfect for watching the next group take their turn bowling. It will be great encouragement to see everyone else bowl as poorly as we do. As we wait for our soups, Claudia asks about my Friday night.

  “How was work last night anyway? You never really told us before. Did your strapping boss finally get you alone to strap you down in his office?”

  I shudder, picturing a slave-master’s whip cracking against my bare skin rather than any sexy type of bondage.

  “He was back there again, but I stayed in the open, actively keeping myself visible and away from his office.”

  Claudia stops joking, her grin fading as her voice softens, eyes intent with curiosity and eager for a story.

  “Well, what did he say?”

  I respond carefully, lowering my voice a little. “Do you remember the story I told you about my work friend Georgina?”

  She speaks as if joking, though her voice carries a serious edge.

  “Yes. I don’t like that you are seeing other friends!”

  I ignore the comment.

  “It’s like a start of repeating that story. He has asked me to cater at the football tomorrow. It’s for a lot more money and he will even give me free tickets for Ernie to go and watch the game.”

  Claudia pauses for a short moment. “I can go with Ernie.”

  “What?” I reply in shock. “I’m not doing it.”

  “I know you shouldn’t. But it’s good money, and you know how to take care of yourself. We’ll even be nearby.” She stops, then starts again. “Think of the girls you could save in the future if you had a story Georgina could back up. Something solid enough you could take to the police.”

  She hesitates, then rushes on before I can speak. “There are a lot of positives in this opportunity, and who knows, maybe he won’t even do anything this time. It could just be free tickets and good money.”

  It does give me another way to think about the offer, but I’m quick to reply. “Thanks, but no thanks. I’m doing fine the way I am. School will be over soon, and I’ll make more money once I have the time.”

  Claudia shrugs it off, nonchalantly. “It’s ok, I already had plans with Jono tomorrow anyway. We’re still going to your family dinner, right?”

  Jono confirms, “That’s right.”

  A young waiter sets down our bowls just as Claudia adds, “Good! We might get some more soup tomorrow too.”

  Jono looks ready to contradict the comment, but he lets it go. His soup looks good and not so different from ours, though it definitely has more beef.

  We fall quiet, blowing on our soups for a while to cool them. I don’t appreciate the wait; hunger makes me impatient. I feel a little guilty spending money on food out today, but it does taste delicious. Ernie will be fed well at Marco’s, and I really need some different nutrients. Besides, it wasn’t expensive.

  My mind goes back to tomorrow. I wonder if I should risk just one shift at the football game for good pay and an amazing opportunity for Ernie.

  No, I’ve made the right decision.