Oceania: The Underwater City Eliza Taye (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📖

the structure gave the only perception that perhaps the roof wasn’t floating in thin air. Statues of various people that I didn’t recognize adorned the fringes of the pathway to the double door of the building.

Once inside, I was transported into a world I’d never known. It felt like we had left the ocean behind and entered a tropical rainforest. Moist air filled my lungs with each intake of breath. Warmth enveloped me, creeping in like the foliage surrounding me. Giant leaves nearly as large as a human reached their green hands out towards me, brushing against me with soft, waxy leaves dripping in dew as I walked along. Green as far as the eye could see shrouded me in a cocoon I never wanted to leave.

I’d never been to a forest before, but I liked it almost as much as I liked the sea. There was nothing like experiencing something directly, and my imagination in the OVRR hadn’t done justice to the magnificent beauty of a forest. The assortment of new smells wafting into my nose made me take notice of the blooming flowers and damp leaves in a variety of shapes and shades. Stopping to touch and inspect each plant, I could finally sympathize with Dylan’s fascination with the intertidal zone—I was feeling the same with the gardens.

Breaking me out of my reverie, Dylan stated, “This is one of the ways we get oxygen for the city. Ample amounts of carbon dioxide is pumped into this atrium every single hour, collected by the air ducts on the ceiling that has shafts and pipes leading to and from each enclosed space in Oceania. As on land, the plants fixate CO2 in the carbon fixation cycle and Calvin cycle to create the oxygen we breathe as a byproduct of their biochemical processes.”

Glossing my fingertips over a lime-green leaf of a plant nearly twice my height, I bent over to smell the budding purple flower that seemed to crane towards me. “But there’s no way that’s enough.”

“Well, you’re right. Our oxygen comes from a variety of sources. Another source is through the electrolysis of water, which gives us the byproduct of hydrogen gas needed to warm vapor back into water. Yet, another source is through various chemical reactions, but most of the oxygen obtained that way is stored as compressed air for emergency use.”

We continued deeper into the forest with Dylan explaining their oxygen attainment processes, as we arrived into the arboretum part. At the entrance of the archway were at least six trees many times my size in girth. Just beyond them, the arboretum sported all types of trees in various stages of growth, creating a myriad of colors and shapes. Some had drooping branches and leaves that resembled tears falling to the ground. Others had leaves so tiny that millions of them must have been needed to cover the whole tree. So varied in appearance, I wondered if they’d ever naturally existed together.

“However, in order to keep our oxygen pure, we have to get rid of the carbon dioxide in the air from the millions of people exhaling. Unfortunately, our forest isn’t enough to eliminate all of the CO2 we breathe out, so, we use a mixture of sodium hydroxide and calcium hydroxide to ‘scrub’ the CO2 out of the air. Chemical reactions are then used to eradicate it.”

I glanced over my shoulder at Dylan. “How in the world do you remember everything in such detail?”

Dylan shrugged. “I already told you…we learn it in school. It’s not something you easily forget. It’s quite fascinating.”

I laughed and moved on, pressing further into the understory, getting lost with Dylan in the wilderness of trees “You’d be right about that. But people on land usually forget a lot of what they learned in elementary school by the time they get to high school—trust me.”

“Dylan Baker. I am surprised to see you here.”

Dylan and I both spun around.

Standing next to a giant tree, much wider by far than the trees surrounding it, was a woman. Cedar-brown hair muted with traces of brownish-red twisted tightly back into a bun, contrasting with the very pale skin of her face. Both her hands were clasped in front of her waist where her caramel-colored skirt met her green blouse that mirrored the emerald of her intently gazing eyes, which she fixed straight at Dylan.

Dylan raised his hand in greeting. “Hi, Mrs. Miller, I’m here showing one of my friends around. She’s a new friend I made in school this past semester.”

I felt Mrs. Miller’s eyes rotate in my direction. Her stern gaze eerily reminded me of the evil stepmother from the Cinderella movie that haunted my childhood nightmares.

“Oh, and what would your name be?”

I panicked inwardly for a moment. What would happen if I lied and she tried to look me up? I knew everyone around here was catalouged. What if I was found out?

I decided to chance it.

“My name is Allie Williams,” I told her a partial truth. My name was Allie, but I lied about my last name. No way would my obscure last name be in their system, but maybe there was another fourteen-year-old Allie Williams.

“Hmm, I see.” Her glare returned to Dylan. “Dylan, you are in some trouble with the Master Coders. Dr. Reynolds would like to see you.”

I noticed Dylan’s smile and calm demeanor began to waver. The fake smile faded and a twinge of urgency rose in his eyes, but only for a moment before it vanished. “All right, Mrs. Miller. Let me say goodbye to my friend and I’ll come with you.”

Mrs. Miller peered down her nose at us as she raised her head in either suspicion or hubris. “Make it quick.”

Dylan nodded curtly and spun around to face me. The urgency returned to his eyes as he tugged me a few feet away and behind a