Becoming Grey: Episode 40

Chapter 40 

June 2027 

The navigation screen said they had twenty eight minutes left, which Callie was beginning to suspect was a personal insult. The final stretch seemed longer than the first three hours of the day. She shifted her hands on the Toyota’s wheel and checked the mirrors. A canvas bag wedged behind the passenger seat had tipped over again. Somewhere beneath it were charging cables, Juna’s rain jacket, and the pretzels she’d insisted she needed ninety minutes after lunch. The moving company had taken their boxes. Everything Callie hadn’t wanted on the truck, along with everything Juna considered essential, had found its way into the RAV4. She still had to find their building, get them inside, and work out dinner before either of them became too tired to be reasonable. 

At least she knew the car. She could reach the temperature controls without looking and recognized every rattle in the back. Her parents had given her the Toyota when she needed something dependable, and now it had carried them across the country. She remembered Stuart checking the tires before they left, then returned her attention to the road. Signs for Gracewood were appearing more frequently, each visible well before its exit. 

“How much longer?” Juna asked without looking up from the game console resting in her lap. 

“Twenty-seven minutes. Which is one minute less than the last time you asked.” 

“That was, like, forever ago.” 

“It was the length of one red light.” Callie glanced at the screen just in time to see a small character disappearing into a bright green landscape. Ryan had given Juna the Zelda game before they left California, and it had kept her entertained through hotel breakfasts, a rainstorm, and the longest construction delay Callie could remember. “We’re actually almost there. You might want to look out the window.” 

Juna saved her game, waited until the screen went dark, and tucked the console into its case. That convinced Callie they really were close. Juna leaned against her seat belt, looking beyond the roadside trees for buildings she couldn’t see yet. The approach lanes curved toward a series of low buildings spanning the roadway, with landscaped dividers separating the traffic. 

“What’s that?” Juna asked. 

“The entrance checkpoint.” Callie slowed. She’d read the arrival instructions twice in their hotel room the previous evening. Every road into the county had controlled entry. “Remember? They have to check we’re allowed inside.” 

“But we live here.” 

“We do now. They still have to check.” Callie took their identification from the visor pocket. The checkpoint came into focus: sweeping canopies, glass fronted offices, and broad lanes without the clutter of temporary barricades. Traffic moved steadily beneath overhead displays showing simple arrows and assignments. Other equipment sat in smooth housings whose purpose she couldn’t guess. A dark vehicle marked GCP stood beyond the inspection area. 

A display directed her into the second lane. She stopped beside a service station and lowered the window. Warm air entered the car with the smell of cut grass. The approaching GCP officer wore a neatly fitted uniform and greeted them with easy professionalism. 

“Good afternoon. Identification, please.” 

Callie handed him her documents. “Callie Grey. This is my daughter, Juna. We’re moving in today.” 

The officer checked her identification against a display. His gaze moved briefly from Callie to Juna, who sat unusually still with the game case in her lap. A narrow panel set into the lane divider shifted from white to blue, though Callie hadn’t seen anything move. 

“Ms. Grey, I have your residential authorization and your Generitech employment record,” the officer said. “You’re headed to your assigned residence in the eastern residential district?” 

“That’s right.” 

“Excellent. Your route is clear. Follow the residential signs after the central approach, and your navigation should take you directly to the building entrance.” He returned the identification with a smile. “First time here?” 

“First time seeing any of it in person,” Callie admitted. 

“Then you picked a nice afternoon for it.” He stepped back and glanced at Juna. “I hope you enjoy your new home. Welcome to Gracewood.” 

“Thank you,” Callie said. Juna added a quiet “Thanks” before Callie raised the window. The signal changed, and she drove forward. A green sign marked the beginning of Gracewood County. She’d crossed state lines all week without noting where one ended and the next began. This boundary felt different. Beyond it were the home and job she’d known only through documents and pictures. 

“What about Ryan when he comes?” Juna asked, looking back at the checkpoint. 

“He’ll come through too. We’ll arrange his visit.” Callie saw her daughter considering that. “He’s not going to get stuck outside a gate, Junebug.” 

“I wasn’t going to say that.” Juna turned toward the windshield. “I was going to ask where he’ll park.” 

“We’ll figure that out when he gets here.” 

The approach climbed enough for the trees and low buildings to fall away. Beyond them, a skyline rose above a broad belt of green. Juna had begun telling Callie about a creature she’d found in her game when the road curved around a planted embankment. The nearest structure slipped out of view, revealing what lay behind it. 

Juna stopped in the middle of a sentence. “Mom. Look.” 

“I see it.” The city spread across the landscape in layers of glass, stone, greenery, and steel. Towers rose from enormous landscaped grounds without crowding together, their façades catching the afternoon sun at different angles. Some were slender and reflective; others had broad terraces with trees several stories above the streets. A sweeping building she had taken for the center of the skyline slid aside as the road turned, revealing a larger complex behind it, crowned by a tower that dwarfed everything nearby. 

She’d seen photographs of the approach in Generitech’s recruitment materials, and she’d spent an embarrassing amount of time enlarging them after accepting the job. The images hadn’t communicated the scale, the relationships between the buildings, or the amount of city beyond the first skyline. Broad planted boulevards contained mature trees, walking paths, and open lawns. The buildings had room to be seen. Through the windshield, Callie could barely decide where to look first. 

“That’s all Gracewood?” Juna asked, pressing her palm against the passenger window. 

“The city, yes. And there’s more we can’t see from here.” Callie eased off the accelerator enough to leave more room ahead. She wanted another few seconds, but traffic kept moving toward the skyline. 

“It’s huge. Which one’s the tallest? Is that where we’re going?” 

“We’re going through part of it. Our place is in a neighborhood farther over.” Callie pointed briefly toward the distant buildings before returning her hand to the wheel. “And I think that big group in the middle is headquarters.” 

“Your headquarters?” 

Callie smiled. “My headquarters, apparently.” 

The approach split into several routes, and the navigation screen highlighted her lane. The city stopped looking like a photograph as they entered it. Beside a landscaped plaza, a GraceLink entrance led underground beneath a clean white sign. People emerged with shopping bags, backpacks, and work cases. Cafés had shaded outdoor tables, and a terrace above a shop was filled with people lingering over lunch. Callie glanced up at greenery growing across several levels of a building, then back at the traffic. 

“Look at the trees,” Juna said. “On the building, Mom. Not the ones down here.” 

“I caught them.” 

“No, the other ones. Over there, by the gold part.” 

“Juna, I can either find the gold part or avoid hitting the car in front of me.” 

“You should avoid the car.” She sounded disappointed but willing to make the sacrifice. “I’ll tell you when there’s another one.” 

“I have complete confidence in that.” The next blocks proved that the care wasn’t confined to the headquarters approach. Shops occupied the lower levels of buildings, with generous sidewalks and planted seating areas between entrances. People crossed the streets with groceries, stood near fountains talking over food, and waited at crossings. It was an ordinary afternoon. That made the remarkable quality of everything around them more striking: even the benches, signs, and shaded places to rest seemed carefully planned. 

At the next intersection, Callie stopped behind a delivery vehicle and noticed the crosswalk. Broad white bands shone through the surface rather than being painted onto it. As pedestrians approached from the plaza, an illuminated route appeared beside the main crossing, directing people toward the GraceLink entrance without making them cut across oncoming foot traffic. A person using a mobility aid joined the group. The lit area widened slightly, and a curb indicator changed before anyone stepped into the street. 

Callie leaned forward. She couldn’t see a projector, exposed sensor, or seam to explain the display. The pavement’s texture seemed continuous even where the bands curved. Perhaps emitters sat beneath a transparent wearing layer, but how was the system sensing and coordinating different streams of pedestrians? The vehicle signals adjusted smoothly while everyone crossed. 

“What is it?” Juna asked, following her gaze. 

“That crosswalk changes to fit the people using it.” She pointed through the windshield. “Those white lines aren’t paint. They’re being displayed somehow.” 

“Like a screen?” 

“Sort of. Except it has to survive cars, water, dirt, everything.” Callie remembered reading about Gracewood’s heated pavement, integrated drainage, and water recovery systems. She wondered how many systems were working beneath that ordinary stretch of street. “And I don’t know how it decides where to put the lines.” 

Juna turned toward her with immediate interest. “You don’t know?” 

“Not from looking at it, no.” Callie laughed. “I have theories. That’s different.” 

“But you’re an engineer.” 

“Which means I know how much stuff I don’t know.” The light changed. Callie accelerated with the rest of the traffic, still trying to remember the exact position of the bands before they’d vanished from the pavement. “Give me a few months. I’ll find someone who can explain it.” 

“Ask the person who made it,” Juna suggested. 

“That’s a good idea.” There were people working in this city who understood every part of that crossing. Soon she could probably meet some of them. That was nearly as exciting as the skyline. 

The road bent around a park toward headquarters. The buildings grew taller, and broad plazas linked their entrances to GraceLink. Generitech World Headquarters was unmistakable when it came fully into view. The vast central structure was joined to adjoining towers by sweeping glass connections, with gardens and pedestrian paths occupying spaces that photographs had made appear much narrower. The headquarters emblem stood near the approach, recognizable without dominating the grounds. 

“There,” she said, pointing when they reached another light. “That’s where I’m going to work.” 

Juna twisted in her seat to see more of it. “In that whole thing?” 

“Not every part of it. I’ll be in Research and Development, somewhere inside the complex.” 

“Do you know which window is yours?” 

“I don’t even know which door is mine yet.” She looked toward the entrance plaza. People with employee badges were leaving in groups, laughing and talking as they headed to the station. Soon Callie would be one of them. She’d know which route to take, where to report, and what equipment waited for her in the lab. For now, she couldn’t stop looking. She had spent six years at Pacifica Polytechnic, learned to build things she once wouldn’t have understood, and finished her master’s research while raising Juna. Generitech had asked hard questions about that work and then offered her a place among the people who did it every day. The employee badges crossing the plaza belonged to colleagues she would soon meet. The thought made her grin so openly that Juna looked at her instead of the building. 

“How far is it from our house?” Juna asked. 

“Not far on GraceLink. That’s one reason we chose the condo.” Callie had compared station locations and school routes before selecting it. She knew the journey on a map; soon she’d know it by doing it. The light turned green, and she reluctantly drove on. 

“Can Ryan come see it when he visits?” 

“He can see the grounds with us. I don’t know what visitor access is like inside.” Callie glanced at Juna. “I think he’d like it, though.” 

“We should send him a picture.” 

“We will. Preferably one where I don’t have to stop in the middle of the street to take it.” 

The streets grew quieter as they entered the residential district, though the sidewalks were just as carefully maintained. Smaller residential lobbies, markets, cafés, and landscaped courtyards replaced the enormous office entrances. The neighborhood GraceLink station stood beside a public square, with a sheltered entrance and a walkway connecting it to nearby buildings. Callie also recognized the grocery store she’d marked on the map. After nearly a week of hotel and highway food, knowing where to buy milk felt surprisingly satisfying. 

“Is that our school?” Juna asked, pointing toward several connected buildings set behind playing fields and landscaped paths. 

Callie checked the navigation display, then the sign along the approach. “Yep. That’s it.” 

“All of it?” Juna sat upright. “Mom, is that whole place the school?” 

“The buildings and the school grounds, yes.” 

“Even that field? And the big thing over there?” Juna pointed toward an outdoor area partly hidden by trees. “Is that a playground?” 

“I think so. We’ll get a better look when we visit.” Juna twisted to keep the grounds in view. Callie had read about the school meals, supplies, and new student support, but none of it told her how Juna would feel entering a classroom full of children who already knew one another. 

Farther along the sidewalk, a girl wheeled a purple bicycle beside two children carrying bags, all three talking excitedly. A boy ran ahead of the adults with him before turning back when someone called. Juna watched them longer than she’d watched the impressive school building. Callie noticed her fingers tighten around the game case, then relax as the children disappeared behind the trees. 

“Do they live here?” Juna asked. 

“Probably. Lots of families live nearby. We’ll be able to walk to school, and the station and a park are close.” 

“Do you think those girls go to my school?” 

“They might. You’ll find out when you meet people.” She wanted to promise Juna she’d make friends immediately, but there wasn’t a way to know that yet. 

Juna looked out the window again. “I liked the girl with the purple bike.” 

“You haven’t met her yet.” 

“I like her bike.” Juna said. “Maybe I can ask her where she got it.” 

“That seems like a good opening question.” Callie smiled as she turned toward their building. The station, grocery store, and school were beginning to fit together as places they would use, not just features on a map. Juna could meet someone here. They could have a life that didn’t depend on an itinerary of spectacular sights. 

The directions brought them to a residential building overlooking a planted pedestrian area. Callie recognized it from the housing portal, though it looked taller in person. She followed signs into resident parking and found the space assigned to their condo. Once she was satisfied with the car’s position, she shifted into park and switched off the engine. For several seconds they sat listening to the air-conditioning fan wind down. The screen announced that they’d arrived. 

“We’re here,” Callie said. 

Juna leaned toward her window, looking back at the building. “This is our house?” 

“Our condo. Somewhere in there.” Callie unbuckled and stretched until her back complained. “I’m going to need to walk for a week after that drive.” She checked the arrival instructions once more. “Ready to see it?” 

“Yeah!” Juna opened her door, and Callie came around the car to join her. The air was warm, with a breeze moving through the landscaping. Without the windshield in the way, she could see the building’s full height and the surrounding residences. There were footsteps, distant conversations, and the sound of wheels rolling over smooth pavement. A couple passed carrying groceries, and a child laughed somewhere nearby. Juna turned to find the source. 

Callie opened the hatch. The cargo area had deteriorated into bags with uncertain contents. She hauled out a suitcase, freed Juna’s backpack from another handle, and found the tote she’d been looking for since lunch. “Here’s your sweatshirt,” she said. 

“I don’t need it now.” 

“Naturally. It was extremely important three states ago.” She put the tote beside the suitcase. Juna watched a group of residents coming out of another entrance, one holding a child’s scooter. Callie gave her a moment before handing her the backpack. “Take this. And keep your game with you.” 

“I have it.” Juna slung the backpack over one shoulder and then moved it properly onto both. “Do we have to bring everything in now?” 

“No. Just enough to get settled. The rest can wait until we’ve found the front door.” Callie closed the hatch and started toward the entrance with a suitcase rolling behind her. Juna kept close, slowing whenever something caught her eye. The doors opened onto a quiet, well lit entry. Following her saved directions, Callie verified their access and found the condo without asking anyone for help. By then the tote seemed much heavier than it had beside the car. 

She entered the code, heard the lock release, and pushed the door inward. Late sunlight brightened the three bedroom, two bath condo. The furnishings stood exactly where she’d placed them in the online planner: the sofa she’d chosen, a low table facing it, and a dining table that looked larger than it had on the screen. Beyond lay clean, empty kitchen counters, waiting for the first lunch container or pile of mail. A hallway led toward the bedrooms. Someone had assembled the home she’d spent so many evenings arranging on her laptop. 

“Mom, can I see my room?” Juna asked, already leaning toward the hallway. 

“Go ahead. Don’t leave your backpack in the doorway.” Juna hurried off. Callie set down the suitcase and tote. There were clothes in the car, boxes coming, groceries to buy, and things she’d have to find before bedtime. She didn’t mind any of it. She ran her fingers over the table’s smooth edge and reached for the small bag she’d carried separately. 

The photograph was wrapped in a soft T-shirt. Callie unwrapped it and set it on the table: herself and Juna crowded beside Ryan, his arm around them both. She straightened the frame out of the direct sun. The California apartment had held so many traces of him that she’d barely noticed them until they started packing. Here, the first thing of theirs on the table was his smiling face beside theirs. He’d probably ask whether she’d unpacked the coffee maker, too. 

Juna came running back with her phone in one hand. “Mom, my room is so cool! The bed’s already there, and there’s a place for my books, and I want to show Ryan.” She stopped beside the table and looked at the photograph. “Can we call Ryan now?” 

Callie looked from the phone to the picture. They’d spent days planning what they’d show him first. She smiled and held out her hand. “Yeah, sweetheart. Let’s call him.” 

Related Images: