“Seriously, Mom. I’m gonna freak out,” Lucy continued and set her elbows on the table and looked around. People glanced up to make eye contact with Lucy and smile. Everyone appeared friendly but immersed in his or her own little world.

“Simmer down,” Maxine replied and she took a cloth napkin and placed it in her lap. “I’m not asking you to accept any of this…but I do want to have a nice brunch with my daughter. This place is supposed to be a treat. Can’t I treat you? Isn’t that allowed? When was the last time you had a hot meal? When was the last time we had a date, huh?”

Mother-daughter dates used to be a real thing in the King home. With six children, someone was always feeling neglected, so they became a way to connect one-on-one. The dates went up on the family calendar and nothing, no work emergencies or kid emergencies, ever derailed them. The child was able to choose the outing and it was special and fun. Lucy remembered back on her time alone with her mom with fondness and nostalgia.

“That’s not exactly my point,” Lucy complained. Her mother glanced around at the other tables and then motioned for Lucy to keep her voice down. Rolling her eyes, Lucy continued. “You can’t honestly tell me that this whole thing isn’t…bizarre.”

“It is,” Maxine said curtly. She scratched her cheek and took a breath. “So, what now? You want to leave?”

“Is that an option?”

Her mother dipped her head and leaned closer. “To leave the Sky Room or to leave the System?”

“Both, I guess. And listen to yourself. The Sky Room, Mom. The System? Like, this place has a name…like we’re on an outing…I just…why is everyone acting so normal?”

A different young man approached the table and they pulled apart, returning upright. Lucy blushed.

“Good morning, Mrs. King,” he said addressing her mom by name. “Drinks for you two?”

“Coffee, please,” Maxine requested.

“A mimosa,” Lucy said. “No, just, straight gin. Right. That’s a thing, right?”

Maxine raised her eyebrows and didn’t take her eyes off her daughter. “She’ll have an orange juice.”

“They don’t serve alcohol in the System?”

“We do—” The young man looked confused, he glanced at Maxine and then Lucy with an embarrassed smile, as if he were worried that he wasn’t in on some joke.

“I’ll have coffee too,” Lucy said after a second to spare the waiter, and the boy nodded and walked quickly away.

Maxine tapped her long fingers on the table. Rat-a-tat-tat and then a repeat rat-a-tat-tat, never looking away from Lucy, her brows knit with assessment and concern. Lucy stared back. Maybe before the Release she would have cowered, but something about losing Grant the moment she stepped foot in the underground system, combined with her family’s robotic acceptance, made her feel emboldened. She knew her mother wouldn’t expect it; that she’d play all her cards and expect Lucy to toe the line.

It was Maxine who broke the silence first. And as she started to speak, Lucy realized quickly it wasn’t what she expected.

“I hate this place,” her mother said, not bothering to lower her voice or lean in closer. “You’re absolutely right. All your instincts. You’re right.”

Lucy froze. Then she looked confused. “Do they pipe gaseous truth serum into the air ducts here?”

Maxine didn’t budge. Then she ran her hand through her short bob and folded her hands neatly on the table.

“I didn’t bring you up here to play a game, Lucy Larkspur. I brought you up here because I missed my daughter. God dammit, I have been,” her mother paused, her voice breaking, her chin quivering and Lucy struggled to keep all her own emotions in check, “a disaster. I thought they would have to commit me. It was my fault…”

“No,” Lucy shook her head with sudden sympathy.

“I sent you out of the house that morning. I lost you and Ethan. Still, right now, I can’t forgive myself.”

“But Dad—” Lucy tried to form the argument faster than her mother could shoot it down, but she was too slow. Maxine was armed and ready.

“Sure, I was mad at him too. He lied to me. For years.”

The waiter slid between two tables and set down two steaming coffees in front of them. Then he disappeared again. Maxine cupped her hands around the mug, just like she used to do at home, letting the warmth seep into her fingers. Bending down to blow across the top of the liquid, Lucy tried to take a sip, but the coffee was still too hot. She pushed the cup away and waited.

“He lied to you about everything.”

“Not exactly.”

With a shuddering breath, Lucy closed her eyes. She did not want to hear that her mother knew about the attacks—even in a roundabout way. If her mother had an inkling of what the future would bring, Lucy couldn’t handle it. Imagining her mother as the naïve housewife impervious to the truth wasn’t a better alternative. Neither meshed with what she knew of Mama Maxine. Rewriting her father into his new role was bad enough: Lucy couldn’t fathom not having anything remain the same.

“I won’t try to dumb it down for you, Lucy. Okay? Your dad told me that he was working on something top secret. That even telling me that little bit put my life in danger. He said that he sold his soul to save his family, and that I had two choices. Trust him implicitly and live. Or try to go out on my own, with no guarantee of safety.”

“Some choices.”

“Exactly.”

“You never even let on that something bad was happening.”

Maxine shrugged. “I didn’t know a damn thing. I thought your dad was being hyperbolic or paranoid.”

“You were wrong,” Lucy said with bite, but her mother ignored it.

“It’s been known to happen.”

The waiter reappeared without warning and slid a basket of croissants between them. Lucy’s mouth began to salivate at the sight of the bread and she reached out and grabbed one, shoving the warm pieces of flaky dough into her mouth. She noticed he had also brought butter and Lucy’s eyes widened. She dipped a piece in butter and swallowed it down with minimal chewing. She went back for another.

“Are you ready to order?” the boy asked.

Lucy, her mouth full, turned to the boy and stared at him. She was suddenly full of questions.

“Who are you?” she asked him. And when the boy didn’t answer, Lucy set the rest of her croissant down and turned her body to face him. He shifted away, his eyes scanning the other tables, perhaps hoping for some reprieve. “Where did you come from?”

Maxine put her hand across the table and tapped twice, but Lucy ignored her mother’s not-so-subtle plea.

“Floor D?” the boy answered. “Did you know what you want to eat?”

“Are you a waiter robot?” she asked. “Another one of my dad’s science experiments? Did they breed you in this dome?”

“Excuse me?” his voice shook a bit.

She slid forward in her chair. “I mean, I asked where you came from and you said floor six…and you just want to serve me food. But what about before? West Coast? East Coast? Is your whole family here in this place? Where were you the day of the virus and the bombs?”

“Lucy—” Maxine’s voice was full of warning.

“I just want to know. Because I can’t stop thinking about it and why is everyone else acting like the world hasn’t ended?”

“Lucy. Larkspur. King. You are embarrassing yourself.”

“Should I come back?” the boy asked Maxine and she nodded and was off like a shot, shoving his tablet into his apron and walking toward double-doors that led to what Lucy presumed was the kitchen.

“You want me to play nice, but I don’t even know what’s going on, Mom. You want me to be happy that I’m here, but I don’t know what here is! Who are these people?”

“Survivors.”

“This place comes with its own waiters?”

“They are here just like you and me.”

“Do they know Dad killed their families?” Lucy hissed.