Dear Liz,

If you’re reading this, it means I’m dead.

I’m sorry to lay this on you today, of all days. I mean, I assume you’re getting this right before you leave to board the Ark, because once you take off for the vast expanses of space, you’ll never know. I could have been Schrodinger’s Sister, but instead, you’re reading this letter.

So…death…What do you think? Am I in heaven? Hell? Have I simply ceased to exist? Or am I coming back as a well-fed house cat like I always wanted? There might be a mama cat out there somewhere right now, giving birth to me. It could happen.

If you’re wondering how I died, I just have to say: Me too! Obviously, I’m not dead as I write these words. I’m pretty curious, actually. How’s it going to happen? Here are my top three guesses:

1. Caught in the rain. (Enough said.)

2. Ate something poisonous. (The odds are high.)

3. Gunned down by The Faction. (I might have sneaked into one of their bases and found their plans to destroy the Ark before it leaves the ground.)

Oh, and while I’m on the subject – The Faction has secret plans to blow up the Ark. If I didn’t manage to get this information to the right people, you might want to let someone know before you board and end up dying in a nuclear explosion like the one that took out New York last year. See attached file for details.

On a more personal note…I know you’re probably feeling guilty about leaving me behind. We promised “together forever” back when the war started. The day we enlisted and made Mom cry because both of her girls were going off to war. We swore to her we’d have each other’s backs. We swore it.

I’ve been blaming you for a long time, but I suppose you know that. And I guess I’m not blameless here either. So for my role in all that’s come between us for the past few months, let me just say that I’m sorry.

It wasn’t your fault that you passed the screening to get passage on board the Ark and I ended up having some stupid congenital condition that shouldn’t make any difference at all, not even if your real goal is to genetically engineer the future of the human race in some bullshit facsimile of “perfect.” Which, I suppose, is exactly what they’re doing. We knew it when we went to the testing facility. I just never imagined for one second that they’d split us up, and it wasn’t fair for me to ask you to stay here on Earth with me. You were right when you said that one of us should go.

It’s just that we’ve done everything together. We were even born together! Our first date was a double date. We both lost our virginity the same night. (Okay, that was weird and unexpected, but it did happen.) We went to college together, right up until the war.

Remember when we had to tell Mom we were enlisting? You lied and told her you were pregnant first, trying to soften the blow, only Mom would rather you have been pregnant than join the resistance! I can still hear her screaming.

It was a valiant attempt, though. It worked before, telling her something horrible to soften the blow. Like when we told her that her favorite TV show was canceled…she almost didn’t notice that we’d gotten in trouble for skipping school!

So the good news is, I’m not actually dead. Surprise! That must be a real weight off your chest, right?

Yep. Alive and well and oh, I broke into your apartment last night and swapped our papers. I’m going on the Ark.

You could lodge a protest and insist they redo the screening to prove our identities. It might work. They might decide to give you back your seat on the Ark. But that would take valuable time so it’s more likely they’ll just skip to the first alternate and neither one of us would get to go.

And of course, as you said, one of us should go.

So instead of lodging a complaint, how about if you make sure the enclosed data has reached the proper authorities so The Faction doesn’t blow up the Ark, taking the best hope of humanity – and your dear sister – with it?

I’ll miss you.

Love,

Beth

Christine Amsden is the author of nine award-winning fantasy and science fiction novels, including the Cassie Scot Series. In addition to writing, she is a freelance editor and political activist. In her free time, she enjoys role playing, board games, and a good cup of tea. She lives in the Kansas City area with her husband and two kids.