Satellite: The Satellite Trilogy, Part I Read Online Free Page A

deceiving. A Satellite’s job is difficult. Remind me to teach you coding after break.”
    “Teach me what?”
    “Coding. It’s the closest thing we’ve got to sleep. It’s kind of like meditation.”
    “We don’t sleep?”
    She shakes her head. “No, we code.”
    I do my best not to laugh, thinking of my mom’s “find the cure” phase. I quickly explain to Willow that a “doctor” once recommended that I burn incense in addition to meditation, since meditation alone wasn’t working (big surprise). When I declared at the follow-up visit that the incense smelled like cat urine, Tate replied with an elbow jab to the ribs. Yes—Tate, too, insisted on subjecting me to nonsense remedies.
    “I hope you’re not a fan of incense,” I say to Willow, as straight-faced as I can muster.
    “Don’t be a hater.” She measures me for a few seconds before adding, “But please tell me you didn’t think meditation would cure your cancer.”
    “Hey, it wasn’t my idea.”
    She cracks up. “I can assure you, the point of coding isn’t to ‘cure’ anything. It’s to put you in a balanced state of mind, to help you cope with the job stress.” She sits at one of the larger tables, far enough over that we can see three of the four entryways around the fireplace.
    I hop in a heavy chair beside hers and search the awed faces entering for Anna and Rigby. The redhead who caught Rigby’s attention earlier glances in our direction before sitting with another girl a few tables over.
    Willow leans forward, putting her chin on her laced fingers. “Here come the little stunners.”
    My fingers drum nervously on the smooth table and the muffled hum grows until…holy mother! Someone opened the floodgates!
    In seconds, the entries and seating areas are hidden by a sea of bodies washing over them. A group of steroid-heads pushes to the front, laughing and hurdling over the chairs and sofas. They race to the back of the room and disappear through a doorway in the corner.
    Willow follows my stare. “Wanna eat?”
    “I’m not really hungry,” I say, bringing my attention back to the table.
    “You’ll never be hungry. You’re dead, remember? Food is just a comfort from our human life. Oh, and bonus—calories don’t count!” she mocks.
    Ugh, I hope she’s not one of those girls. One of the (many) things I love about Tate is that she’s never been overly consumed with her weight and appearance. Ironically, the few parts of her body she was unhappy with were the ones I loved the most.
    “So what’ll it be, kid? You wanna eat or what?”
    Whatever. “Might as well check out the grub.”
    “Trust me, one look at the spread and you won’t be calling it grub.”
    Willow’s right. When we enter the back room, I have to pull my jaw off the floor for the umpteenth time today. The food spread is even more impressive than the picturesque mountains and 200-foot tall pine trees visible beyond the back glass wall. Some of the foods are so vibrant I actually have to squint. Upon closer examination, I realize that for every steak, casserole, or doughnut, there’s a not-so-appetizing choice. I turn away from the raw seafood and slimy things and go to the more appealing things like bread and—
    Stew!
    I beeline to the scent and grab one of the red ceramic bowls.
    Willow appears from nowhere. “So that one’s yours, huh?”
    The ladle in my hand freezes over the venison stew. “Huh?”
    “Everyone brings a food with them. Family recipe?”
    I nod in shock, and my mouth is unhinged again. “Uh, my mom’s.”
    “Well, let’s give it a shot and see how they did.”
    After filling my bowl, I add lasagna, a brownie, and some chicken wings to my tray. “So let me get this straight. All this food is from other Satellites?”
    “Yep. Studies done centuries ago found that we benefit from a little taste of home.” She winks at me. “Stew and coding—they’ll be your two favorite things.”
    I continue piling a little of everything