Later that week, the waning moon finally came. Luminaeon trees thrived in the darkness of night, making Arcadia the perfect place to grow them due to their days only containing nine hours of sunlight. Neon trees were an ancient plant, back when the planet was inhabited by man and spirit. The spirit and mortal worlds were so closely entwined, that they walked freely between them. According to stories passed down from generations, the trees were given to man as a gift. It’s not hyperbole when people say Neon has magic in its DNA. Sonoko and Shin used to beg Suzu to tell them stories of the spirits when they were younger. They couldn’t go to sleep without visions of mythical creatures prancing in their minds. The Neon contained the same novelty. When the flowers of the Luminaeon bloomed, the soft green glow was enchanting. The siblings used to pretend they had wandered off into the spirit world and discovered the trees for the first time.

  The feeling of whimsy returned to Sonoko now as she saw the gorgeous flower petals open towards the moon. She always felt sad clipping them off of the branch. When she held the flower in her hand, she could feel the foreign power coursing through it. She got lost staring into its subtle shine, falling under its spell. It’s no wonder that early man became obsessed with these plants, Sonoko thought. Their beauty was enough to drive one mad. She supposed this was why some people were addicted to it. But the beauty couldn’t last forever and the shears snipped off the flower at the base of its stem. Sonoko counted to herself as she piled the perennials into her basket. 450 was the magic number. The soft glow emitted from the basket, illuminating Sonoko’s face. Her eyes itched with sleep. She reminded herself why she did this.

  After they were all collected, Sonoko stood over her baskets. Just over 400. Almost 50 short of quota. Once again, the future of the farm flashed before her eyes. More weight stacked onto the planet already on her shoulders. She could not think of this now.

  Inside, Suzu had made soup out of leftover vegetables. The wooden floorboards creaked as Sonoko dragged her husk of a body over to the dinner table. A single candle burned in the corner, its light amplified by a funnel-shaped shade. Their house had been in the family so long, it was not powered by Neon. There wasn’t enough to spare anyway. Sonoko plopped down into her chair and a bowl of soup was set on the table before her.

  “Did you harvest?” Suzu asked calmly.

  “Yes.”

  “The entire farm?”

  “All the ones that bloomed.” There was still a dead row of trees spelling out their imminent failure. Having been harvested, the rest of the trees joined the dead ones in darkness.

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  “Mr. Sato will be here tomorrow.” Mr. Sato was the representative of Osaki Neon that came to all the farms to collect the flowers. He was early this season. There was no time.

  Sonoko said nothing as Suzu joined her at the table. She couldn’t move her arms to grab the spoon. Physically, she was beat. But the real block was mental. The universe seemed to be pointing and laughing.

  Her father, Kosuke, shuffled into the kitchen, holding his lower back. The few wisps of hair he had left atop his head were unruly. Sonoko noticed he had more wrinkles than she realized, especially on his forehead where defined lines accentuated the permanent scowl he wore on his face. Sonoko could barely make eye contact as he sat in the chair across from her. The forced family of three sat silently for a moment, eating their soup. The air was heavy with anticipation. Sonoko felt the truth on her lips but remained frozen.

  “They’re building a new district where the Watanabe ranch used to be,” Kosuke croaked with a deep voice. “It never ends. Soon we’ll all be wearing masks all the time.”

  “The smog tells us that all our hard work means something,” Suzu refuted.

  “I don’t need to breathe the stuff when I can see it out there. It’s that damned planning committee.” Kosuke often complained about the integrity of the government’s committee in charge of urban planning. He frequently mentioned how different the city looked when he was growing up. The biggest difference is that it was much smaller than it is now. There was more than triple the farmland when Kosuke inherited Makino farm and the city was much further on the horizon. Now that the soil is starting to wear down, more farms are forced to close every year and new districts are constructed in their place. Just like the Watanabe’s. The newer buildings were eyesores with no character, according to Kosuke. In his words they were shamelessly trying to get more wealthy investors to drive the prices up. The reality in Arcadia was the further out you get from the Circle, the more dangerous it is to live. That’s where Osaki Neon builds their factories and the Glow trade thrives. Kosuke typically supported President Azuma’s policies, but he thought the cabinet needed to be kept under stricter control.

  “Sonoko,” Kosuke said. Sonoko’s head jolted to an upright position. “I’ll need you to head into the market to get groceries soon.” Suzu tried to interject.

  “Kosuke, I told you I would go-”

  “No, she’s seventeen, it’s time for her to take that responsibility she’s always asking for.” He stared across the table at his daughter. His eyes accused Sonoko without any words. “You’ve been the eldest Makino child for nearly eight years now. We’re getting older. I’ve let you tend to the trees and harvest by yourself, against my wishes. I know you won’t embarrass us.” Sonoko couldn’t say anything. Her throat was sealed shut. “Right?”

  “I won’t,” she muttered. Suzu glanced over at Sonoko. Her eyes weren’t nearly as harsh but underneath they conveyed the same message. Sonoko yearned for a day when she no longer saw that look. “I don’t feel good. I’m going to bed.” She arose from the table and dumped her still full bowl of soup into the sink. She bowed to her parents and went up the creaking stairs, fighting tears the entire time.