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  The Circadia Chronicles: GROW

  The Circadia Chronicles

  Heather Heckadon

  Published by Bold & Bound Publishing, 2018.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  THE CIRCADIA CHRONICLES: GROW

  First edition. April 24, 2018.

  Copyright © 2018 Heather Heckadon.

  Written by Heather Heckadon.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sneak Peak

  About the Author

  For Jordyn: When the world isn't enough for you, make your own. It's yours if you want it.

  Chapter One

  —Trudging through the night, my group came upon a pod. Even larger than the second group’s, we were prepared with ladders as we had expected such. We waited much longer this time for the hatch to open. We listened to the screeching of the metal as the door handle turned. When it finally lifted and fell onto its hinges, we watched as the moon lit the hands that grasped for the way out.

  The first woman that appeared looked familiar, but I couldn’t place her. Her face was plump and her hair was well taken care of. Her eyes looked wide and scared. Garrett hollered up to her, “Hey, welcome to Circadia! We have a ladder to help you get down over on the left of the pod.”

  She looked around quietly and began to climb down. Twenty or more people climbed out of the pod, and then I saw him. Leslie Marshal. That son-of-a bitch! My blood boiled as I watched him emerge from the craft and make his way down the ladder. No one else around me said anything, so I wasn’t sure if they had noticed or recognized him, but I had. I walked around the pod slowly and quietly. This was going to hurt.

  As soon as I watched both feet fall from the ladder, I caught him by the shoulders and slammed him up against the pod with one arm while my fist slammed into his fat face with the other. “You asshole! You knew, didn’t you? You fucking knew!” I screamed through tears. I kept going. My knuckles felt warm with blood. It wasn’t his, it was mine. My fragile skin burst upon impact.

  The water in my eyes obscured my vision, but through the blurriness I could see his eyes grow wide when my fist withdrew and went in for another shot. My knuckles burned and ached, but I didn’t care. I kept going. “You’re going to pay for what you’ve done! You mother—” My hand was caught. It was Smith.

  I turned to see his mouth open and eyes wide. “Aella. Enough,” he said. –

  ...I wasn’t always a violent person. I never knew such a rage could work its way down into my soul and make itself at home, but it did. Of course, it didn’t happen all at once.

  THE YEAR CIRCADIA ENTERED our solar system, things were kind of crazy. A new planet, one Earth had never seen before, entered into our range of sight. Said to have drifted from another galaxy, it was flying straight towards us. Some scientists said it would narrowly miss us and just keep floating by until it exited our solar system and moved onto the next. Some said it would hit head on and kill us all.

  It took about three months after the planet was spotted for it to get anywhere close to us. During that time, preppers and doomsdayers went crazy, churches assembled every day for months, and many people quit their jobs. The sense of doom hung in the air as Circadia’s trajectory was calculated to be directly at Earth as it approached, and everyone prepared to die.

  “From now on, all we can do is wait,” the newscaster said to the camera. The message was echoed across nations. It was the finality in their voices that sent people over the edge.

  People reacted terribly. Footage of hope and togetherness were replaced with ones of violence and looting. They ran back and forth, hurriedly scrambling to grasp onto anything that was left in the hopes of survival in eminent doom. Laws no longer applied to man, and the masses did as they pleased.

  Walking down the steps of my apartment, I met a man and my mind was cleared of the heavy thoughts. “Do you live here?” he asked.

  I hesitated for a moment, then nodded my head.

  “Can I stay here? I have nowhere else to go,” he pleaded. The man’s hands trembled and his eyes darted back and forth. His disheveled clothes told a story, but not one I wanted to hear. The street that I lived on was filled with screaming people running this way and that. Car alarms sounded from everywhere. It was chaos.

  I stood in shock. I didn’t know what to say. He began crying, and it was too much for me. “I can’t. I can’t, I’m so sorry,” I said, as I pulled away from the grasp of his hands. Dashing back into my apartment, I locked the door behind me as he pounded his fists on the other side, begging. I wept, then started boarding up the windows. Each board I put up was a barrier between me and the world, which wasn’t so different from the way I had lived before.

  A day before the projected arrival, everyone held their breath, until something strange happened. Circadia stopped. I remembered watching the news and hearing the announcement that the planet had halted. Earth’s doom was no longer probable. Awash with joy and relief, I ripped the boards from my door and stumbled outside for fresh air, to breathe the breath of air that I might not have breathed the next day. I fell to my knees and cried. The grass under me had never felt so inviting. It’s not like I had a whole lot to lose, but I had a strong will to survive.

  Dark hair swirled around me, my ripped jeans slowly soaked through from the dew on the ground. Looking up into the sky at high noon, Circadia could be seen hovering just outside of our atmosphere. Appearing much like Earth, the bright green and blue hues mixed with hints of a mysterious purple, and stood out against our bright blue sky beautifully. The magnetic fields of the planets repelled each other just enough to protect us from a terrible death. It was gorgeous.

  The world took a collective sigh of relief, and regret.

  Soon after the tragedy was averted, the media went wild. Now that we had a new neighbor, everyone wanted to know everything about it. Was it inhabited? Was it livable? What was life like on Circadia? It was the forefront of everyone’s attention, and never left anyone’s thoughts. Always visible from above, and always trending on social media or the news, there was never a moment without Circadia. You couldn’t go to the grocery store without seeing the enormous planet looming in the sky. At any given time, it took up half the view of the stars as if to say, you will not forget about me.

  Due to the recent fallout of most of the economies after the false alarm, there wasn’t a lot of funding lying around to discover a new planet with. Any money not necessary to the basic functions of the nation were put towards judicial fees to prosecute the guilty people who had thought our world was coming to an end, and acted as though there would never be any consequences for their actions. Judgments were harsh, which brought a lot of resentment towards the governments.

  There were riots in the streets. Everyone assumed once the crisis was averted, they would be able to seek refuge in assistance programs, but were turned away instead. All of the money was gone, even for civilian resource programs. Riots were frequent, and tension was so thick you couldn’t cut it with a knife. Some people, though, were doing just fine despite the recent depression. The world hadn’t really ended, and nothing really c
hanged, except for the split-second decisions people had made under false pretenses. This brought about more anger and hostility, but one thing was always brought back up.

  People demanded the new world be explored- out of fear, and curiosity- but NASA had shut down. All funding for any kind of conservation or sciences were cut. The world had planned for an end to its existence; further exploration was not needed, until it was. Of course, nothing trumps government like the internet. Crowd funding began for a new reality TV show, Grow.

  The premise of the show was that they would send a hundred people up to this planet using private space programs and equipment and follow a select group of them to be filmed. Showing the stress of building a new civilization on an alien planet, it was designed as a survival drama. The entire world jumped at the opportunity to experience the new world and emptied their pockets into Circadia’s reality TV show.

  The world had just experienced the ultimate depression and they were ready for hope. People needed the excitement, even if it wasn’t their own. They needed something to look forward to each week that could join everyone together in one quest, and Grow would do that. I hated people, or any kind of social movements, but I had to admit, I got wrapped up in it too.

  Funding was available for the program six months after the incident. They began to acquire some experts of their fields who were willing to be on TV, to explore, and essentially colonize, the new planet. Many of the world’s leading experts refused to join in on the journey due to it being completely voluntary and the lack of organization. I watched on the news as they interviewed the experts that had turned them down.

  “It’s not so much the money that’s the problem, it’s the lack of caring,” one expert said during an interview. “They do not care if you are stranded up there without the supplies you need, because it makes for good television. I wish whatever poor soul they con into doing this mission luck and grit.”

  After the big-wigs started refusing them relentlessly, they began to trickle down to the smaller fish in the pond, and I got the call.

  “Hello?” I had answered the phone from the unfamiliar number.

  “Hello, yes, is this Aella Toms?” the stranger asked. “Did I say that right?” The woman asked, then proceeded to enunciate, “Ay-ell-uh?”

  “Yes...”

  “Great! So glad I got ahold of you! My name is Patricia and I am a talent scout for Entertain Now Productions. Can I have a moment of your time?” The lady at the other end of the line sounded bubbly and excited.

  “Oh, I think you have the wrong number. I’m not an actor, sorry,” I replied.

  “No, wait! We’re not looking for actors or actresses. You’re an agricultural specialist, correct?”

  Silence hung on the line for a bit. What could they possibly want with me?

  Finally, I answered. “Yes, well, I’m an Agronomist.”

  “Wonderful then, just the lady I was looking for! So, I’m sure you have heard some buzz about the new television series Grow? Well, we would love for you to join us on the show and provide an expert insight into your field, as well as a step forward for mankind!” she said, full on presidential campaign style.

  “Whoa, wait. Why me? I’m sure there are a million-other people on this planet that would kill to go. Why me?” I asked.

  “We have scoured the planet looking for experts in their fields with the drive and personality we are looking for in a candidate, and you fit the description perfectly! We heard about your work in Russia with the land reclamation. We would love to take that ingenuity and expertise up to Circadia with us when we go,” she said. “A resource like you would be invaluable.”

  I remember hesitating for a second. Or two. It was dangerous, scary, and disorganized. The lady didn’t even know the difference between an agronomist and an agricultural specialist, for crying out loud.

  “Okay,” I said. “That sounds great. When can we meet to discuss details?” The words fell out of my mouth. Curiosity was eating me alive. How cool would it be to tell future generations that I was one of the first colonists on Circadia? The grandeur of the proposal caught me, and I jumped. The moment I agreed, there was instant regret and anxiety, but it was too late.

  Chapter Two

  The lady had said we could meet the next day at their studio in California. I lived in Chicago, so they bought my plane ticket and flew me out. The meeting was rushed, and ill-informed. After trying to ask a million questions, and only receiving vague answers to a few of them, the meeting was over. The network told me there would be two formal meetings before launch, and that the first meeting was in two days. They got me a decent hotel room and told me to stick around for a while.

  For the two days I had to wait, I just sat in my hotel room and paced a lot. All I could think about was what it would be like up there. Frequently looking out my hotel window towards the sky to catch a glimpse of the odd colored globe, I was obsessed.

  When the day finally came for the first meeting, I was a little let down. I had expected a grand ball, lavish with the latest technology and experts that rivaled the world. Instead, I was shown paper plates on plastic table covers and an unorganized event. The interviewed experts from before had been right; the whole thing was a shit show, but I took my seat anyway.

  I was anxious with all the people in the room. I was a socially awkward mess, as usual. In my regular life, I stayed in my apartment, alone for the most part, careful to avoid any social interactions except for the occasional grocery store or gas station necessities. At work, I put on a different face, a mask, to cover my insecurities. I did the same thing at the meeting so I could function.

  Observing the people around me, I noticed there was quite a wide variety of people. Assuming it was in the interest of providing a diversity of skills and different walks of life on Circadia, I felt a little more at ease. It would take a lot of brilliant minds to make this work.

  “Hey, what are you?” the man seated behind me asked.

  “Don’t you mean: what’s your name?” I laughed.

  “No. I don’t. I mean, why are you here?” he asked, his face serious.

  “Oh, I’m an agronomist,” I answered, lighthearted.

  “...And that is?”

  “An agronomist focuses on the science of producing and using plants, or crops, in this case. We also specialize in soil, plant physiology, and genetics. You don’t hear about us a lot on the news,” I said. “It’s not a very recognized profession, but it’s necessary.”

  “Wow, how cool,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “What do you do?” I asked.

  At first he gave me a bored stare and I didn’t think he would speak to me. I kept waiting for a reply, until he finally seemed to give up under the scrutiny of my eyes. “I’m a Lunar Astronomer. I specialize in predicting how the moons interact with different planets, like Saturn’s moons. All moons play a different role for each planet. They’re hoping that I can shed some light on Circadia,” he said, holding his chin high. The arrogance dripped from his every word.

  “That’s so neat! That subject has always fascinated me! My name is Aella, by the way. Nice to meet you.” I extended my arm to shake his hand but was met with dead space.

  “Yeah... I’ll let you do your little farming gig over there, and I’ll do the important stuff over here, okay?” He flicked his hand in a dismissive way and proceeded to turn around in his seat to face away from me.

  Staring blankly at the back of his head, I sat stunned. What a prick! With only a hundred people on the journey, we were almost sure to run into each other again, and I was not looking forward to it in the slightest. Turning back towards my table, I caught the eye of a small, young woman sitting across from me.

  “Hi,” she said shyly.

  Her blonde ponytail bobbed and weaved as she shifted in her seat to face me. The pink shirt she wore was tight and her make-up freshly touched up. She waved her hand that showed freshly manicured and painted nails.

  I responded. “Hey
, I’m Aella. What’s your name?”

  “My name’s Jane.”

  How perfect, I thought.

  “What specialty are you in?” I asked.

  “I’m an explosives engineer!” she piped with excitement.

  The shock on my face must have been obvious. Her shoulders fell and her expression turned into a frown. Jane’s eyes squinted down at me from her beautiful lashes. “What? Didn’t expect that from me, huh? Well, I get that a lot, okay? I get it! I’m not exactly what you would picture an explosives engineer to look like... Thought maybe I played with Barbies instead? I earned my right on this trip just like everyone else here,” she insisted.

  “Whoa!” I held up my hands in submission. “Not at all what I said, not that I wasn’t thinking it...” I laughed, my cheeks hot from embarrassment. “I think it’s awesome you’re here. You show ‘em! You showed me for damn sure.”

  She blushed a bit and slicked back her pony tail slowly as she looked at the floor. “Sorry, I’ve just gotten that reaction a lot tonight.”

  “No, it’s okay! I get it. That asshole behind me,” I pointed over my shoulder at the man and said it loud enough so that he could hear, “he told me to ‘go do my farming gig somewhere else’. What an asshole! People are terrible, but don’t let them get to you. You are here for a reason.”

  The man looked around his chair and gave a disgusted look before turning back.

  “Thanks... So, you’re a farmer?” Jane giggled.

  “Well, kind of. I’m an agronomist,” I said.

  “Oh! So, you’re a pretty important person here. If we’re going to survive up there very long, we are going to have to eat!” she said, smiling. “What made you want to be a part of this whole thing?”

  “It’s cheesy, but I just want to be a part of something bigger than me,” I replied. “From the look of things so far, though, this is going to be a mess.”