Chapter 11
Leo ran off toward a grove of artificial apple trees, leaving Jennifer and Julian standing alone beside the babbling stream. The artificial sun began its slow descent toward the edge of the dome, casting long, amber rays across the manicured gardens of Sector Four.
"Yes," Julian said quietly, breaking the heavy silence. He didn't look away from Jennifer’s accusing gaze. "The genetic therapy that saved Leo’s life from the cellular collapse syndrome required raw materials that only existed in deep-core asteroid mining operations funded by our corporate partners."
Jennifer stood up, brushing a stray leaf from the hem of her green dress. "And the price for those materials? Four hundred and fifty-five billion dollars diverted from public municipal funds across three continents, leaving millions of people without access to clean drinking water."
"It was a zero-sum game, Jennifer," Julian replied, his voice rising slightly with defensive passion. "If we hadn't diverted those funds, the mining syndicates would have used the resources to build orbital weapons platforms to destroy rival nations. We redirected their capital toward life support and ecological preservation. We stole from the destroyers to build a sanctuary for the survivors."
"That doesn't make us saviors, Julian," Jennifer said, her voice dropping to a harsh, icy whisper. "That makes us warlords with better interior design. You didn't save the world; you abandoned it, and you left the bill for everyone else to pay."
Julian stepped closer, his dark eyes flashing with frustration. "What would you have had me do? Let Leo die in a federal hospital on a dying planet where governments are fighting over the last drops of unpolluted groundwater? Would that have made you feel morally superior?"
Jennifer looked around the breathtaking, artificial paradise of Sector Four—the smiling children, the crystal-clear streams, the flawless sky—and then she remembered the desperate faces of the guests at the Grand Meridian Ballroom, the federal agents in the subterranean bunker, and the millions of people living in the choking smog of the lower cities.
"Morality isn't about feeling superior, Julian," Jennifer said, her voice steady and resolute. "It's about accountability. And right now, the balance is still due."
Before Julian could answer, the comms unit embedded in his wrist emitted a sharp, high-pitched chime. A small holographic projection flickered to life above his wrist, displaying the scarred-eyebrow man from the hotel sidewalk.
May you like
"Director Vance," the man’s flat voice echoed through the quiet garden. "We have an issue in Sector One. The federal oversight committee on Earth has bypassed our decryption firewall. They've discovered the secondary ledger."
Julian’s face went completely pale. "Lock down the main terminal. I'm on my way."
