Ikari frowns at me. “Are you trying to compare Antarctica to the Republic of America, Mr. Wing?”

I hold my hands up. “I know how different the two are. But the Republic was founded on a system of fear. People allowed the first Elector to come to power because they were afraid of everything and everyone else. They turned in on themselves, closed their borders, and gave up their freedoms in exchange for security. And then, one day, we woke up realizing that we’d handed over so much that we’d given ourselves up too. I know what that feels like all too well. It’s part of the reason why we left the Republic to come here in the first place.”

I’m not sure if my words are sinking in with the council, but hearing what the Republic did wrong seems to make them sit up straighter. As if they know that their country is better. The President studies me for a moment, then nods at Eden. “You’re the top student of Ross City. Why don’t you tell us your thinking behind all this, and whether or not you align with your brother?”

I think of the way Eden always left early for university in the mornings—with that tense look on his face, bracing himself for another difficult day. But he doesn’t hesitate now. He just looks the President square in the eye and answers.

“Antarctica was founded on the principle of innovation. Wasn’t it?” He looks around at the council, and to my satisfaction, they look happy with his words. Eden knows how to play this game, too. “I learned it when I came here for school. You teach it to all your citizens. This country was built on the idea of progress and experimentation. All of this—the Levels, the biodome—came from young people who created big, bold, new things that took the world by storm. So many came here in the hopes that this would be where they could find the freedom to be who they wanted to be. They flocked to this unknown, barren land because they were excited by what it could become. They were dazzled by the brilliant and the frightening, the technology that was changing things day by day here. That’s how Antarctica became what it is today. It’s still so young, barely a country, and yet it holds so much power.”

He shakes his head and points out at the windows, where the glass separates us from the sky beyond. “This isn’t the Antarctica of the past anymore. Ross City no longer rewards the very principles it was founded on. It’s a place where people are forced to conform to what this council thinks is right or wrong. They can’t speak up about their frustrations and hardships. The Level system was supposed to be a system that encouraged good behavior and success. Now it’s just a system that holds half of the city’s population back. There’s no hope for people in the Undercity. How can there be?”

“So you took it upon yourself to change what you thought was wrong.” The President narrows his eyes at my brother.

Eden takes a deep breath. “So I made some adjustments,” he says with a slight shrug. In that gesture, I recognize a glimmer of myself. “Isn’t that how all change happens? Someone just has to do it first?”

The head of the police unit snorts at his words and looks at the President. “The boy put in a stop to Levels deducted for rioting against the government. There’s already a march scheduled for dawn tomorrow. They halted points associated with health care and welfare. They’ve altered points deducted for crimes.”

“For crimes of what?” Eden interrupts. “Not having a home? Taking away their Levels if they can’t afford something? Let people protest without punishment. Let them have a chance to help their families. Let people struggling in the lowest floors of the city know that you still care about them, too.”

The President’s stare on Eden is ice-cold. “What you’ve done is the height of arrogance, boy.”

“Maybe.” He steps forward this time. “But it’s because I care. Because, sometimes, being patriotic means calling out the problems rotting away your country. I’m not saying we don’t want to work with you. But we represent millions of voices you’re not hearing right now. If you want to preserve the spirit of what made Antarctica a world leader to begin with, you should take a look at your blind spots.”

Murmurs rumble among the council members. I look over to Eden. He’s pale, and frightened, but he stands his ground with his fists clenched at his sides, and all I can think about is the memory that comes to me now—the moment he had volunteered himself, without hesitation, to help the Republic find a cure for the plague. I think of the determined light in his eyes, the resolve he’d had to save a country that had taken everything from him. I think of his plans now for the Republic, his architectural suggestions for what to do with the old Trial stadiums and the old military halls.

No matter the demons that haunt him, he has still remained a light. And I find myself feeling prouder of him in this moment than I ever have. When he glances at me, searching for approval, I give him a nod and a smile.

“You will stay in Ross City,” the President finally says. The murmurs around him die down. “Until we have decided the appropriate course of punishment for you both for your actions. The Level system will be reset to its original state.”

I never expected the city to approve of what we’d done. Neither had Eden. But even now, as the President speaks, I see some uncomfortable shifting around the room. There isn’t unanimous agreement on this.

President Ikari sighs, then continues. “Meanwhile, I will also convene a special council to discuss possible solutions to some of what you have brought up. You’ll be notified if your services are needed again.”

It’s not much. Change never happens quickly, anyway. But something in his tone lifts a burden off my chest, and I exchange a look with my brother. He had done this. However things go in the future here, he was the one who planted the seed.

I half expect Eden to hesitate when he speaks again. But he doesn’t. His voice is clear, and his shoulders are straight. He bows his head slightly at the President, as if this is something he’s used to doing every day.

“Of course, sir,” he says.

EDEN

Our final sentence comes a week later.

Two counts each of insubordination—one for heading back to Ross City without notifying anyone, and the second for installing changes onto the original Level system. Our own Levels are halved. Daniel is released from the AIS.

Prison time, however, is pardoned by the President himself. He has permitted us to return to the Republic on schedule, in time for my internship with Batalla Hall. Returning to Antarctica at any time will require his personal consent.

It all works out in the end. I think our time in Antarctica has come to a close.

* * *

A month later, on our last day in Ross City, I head back to the Undercity. My system is tracking my every movement now—Daniel knows exactly where I’m going, as does the entire government. But I’d gotten permission for today. Today is when I’m seeing Pressa, who has been released from the hospital for her shoulder injury.

Things already look different by the time I arrive in the Undercity. The street’s still grungy, of course, the tightly packed stands still billowing smoke from their grills, the half-working neon signs still hanging over the crammed storefronts. There are still zero-level folks huddled against the walls, trying to sleep in the midst of all the bustle.