Gideon squinted his eyes against the unfamiliar brightness around him. It was sort of greenish, unlike the cold blue light of his former home. Warm air embraced him like a hug. He leaned into the light. For a guy who was supposed to be dead, he had never felt more alive. As his head cleared, Gideon tried to process the last 24 hours. He knew his time in the PODZ (Principal Occupation District Zones) was limited. Anyone who could not physically contribute to the operations of the underground dwellings could not stay. An accident ten years before rendered him a tetraplegic, stealing his ability to walk and limiting what he could do with his arms, especially anything that required any kind of manual dexterity. He worked in his therapy group, trying desperately to develop some kind of useful skill, but his hands would not cooperate consistently, tending to spasticity instead of control. Age 25 was the outside limit of non-productive care, and Gideon's birthday was the week before. On Sunday his family visited the unit where all "inferior" people lived until they were either restored to the community or exiled to Topside. His mother was distracted, chasing the 4 year old twins, born unexpectedly. His father was grave, but with the birth of the twins, Gideon's place as the male heir and carrier of the family name could be filled by one or both of the boys. His 15-year-old sister, however, could not control her tears. Gaylyn and Gideon shared a bond that most siblings did not. It may have been the ten-year age gap, required by PODZ, that made him feel protective of her. He loved her fiercely, and she never missed a day spending time with him. They talked about Topside, what it might look like after 50 years without humans on it. The clear domes above the PODS central court sometimes revealed hints of greenery, but mostly distant skies with occasional clouds. Since the accident, Gabriel hadn't seen the sky, but Gaylyn talked to him about stars she saw, and the pattern of clouds. She tried to describe the rain and lightning of summer storms, but he couldn't imagine what she saw.

Gaylyn was the last to leave the room. She held his hand as long as she could, but their mother finally pulled her away. Gideon had not seen her since. He figured that his expulsion was near. Last night his caregiver had brought him an extra capsule with his nutrition. He had a cup specifically designed so that he could drink for himself. He swallowed both pills and bid goodnight as she left the room. Within a few minutes, he felt himself drifting, thinking of Gaylyn's brown eyes brimming with tears and hoping she would be okay. The next thing he knew, he was in this green and sweltering place.

Gideon's eyes adjusted slowly. The green was everywhere, and it was bleedingly, achingly different from the green neon lights he had seen back in the PODZ. It was soft, and fresh, it smelt unlike anything he had ever smelt, and he liked it. It was...leafy. The word came to him encased in abstract and theoretical wonderings, suddenly made real by the way the golden light filtered through the canopy above him and shone onto his blinking eyes. It filtered the light into patterns of shadow and brilliance, and when he turned his head, he could see the sky beyond the gaps, a vast, endless expanse of deep blue interrupted by white clouds that moved with impossible slowness.

He tried to move and found his body unresponsive, heavier than it had ever been. The spasticity in his arms and legs seemed amplified by the heat, his muscles contracting and releasing in their irregular rhythm. For a moment, panic fluttered in his chest. Had they dumped him in some remote corner of Topside to die? He turned his head as far as his neck would allow, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, that he was lain across a pillow of moss, spongy and cool against his skin despite the warmth of the air.

"Easy now." A voice, rough and weathered. "Don't try to move much yet. The serum takes a while to clear your system."

Gideon's eyes found the source: a figure crouching beside him, mostly silhouetted against the dappled light. As his vision cleared, details emerged: scarred hands, skin darkened by exposure to the sun, hair long enough to be tied back with something that looked like twisted vine.

"Water?" the figure asked, already reaching for something.

Gideon tried to speak, but his throat was impossibly dry. A cup was raised to his lips. The water was cool, tasting nothing like the purified water dispensed from the PODZ hydration systems. It tastes almost sweet.

"There are others coming," the figure said, settling back on their heels. "They're not waiting until 25 anymore. Anyone with a category-three disability rating or below gets sent up."

Gideon wanted to ask questions, but his mind felt like it was swimming through the heavy air. The serum. They had drugged him for transport, made him docile for the journey Topside. He focused on the person before him, trying to understand what he was seeing.

"My name's Kess," they said. "I oversee the intake settlements. What's your name, kid?"

"Gideon," he managed.

"Well, Gideon," Kess said, standing with movements that were fluid despite their evident age, "welcome to Topside. It's not what the Council told you it would be, I'm guessing."

Gideon's eyes drifted back to the canopy above, to the real sky beyond. A bird passed overhead. Gideon saw the red on its breast, and a name came to him, somewhere, buried in the memory of an old Christmas card he had seen once in a museum. Robin.

"How long have I been--" Gideon's voice cracked. "When did they send me?"

"Six hours, maybe seven," Kess said. "The transport pods come up through the old lift shafts. You'll find some of the others already at the settlement. We have equipment salvaged from the Before, but..." Kess paused, and sympathy crossed their weathered face. "It's not much. The PODZ sent you out light. Your profile said tetraplegic, no family resources transferred. Is that accurate?"

Gideon wanted to correct them, to explain about Gaylyn, about how she should have fought for him, about how his parents had already replaced him with the twins. But what good would it do? He was here now, in the sunlight his sister had tried to describe to him, and the PODZ might as well be a dream.

"Accurate," he whispered.

Kess nodded, as if filing this information away. "I'll have someone bring you to the settlement once the serum fully wears off. We'll get you comfortable, get you fed. You'll probably get sick the first few times, but your body will adapt." They paused at the edge of the small clearing, then added without turning back: "It's not the slow death they told you to expect, if that helps."