Lina could see this city so clearly in her mind she almost believed it was real. She knew it couldn’t be, though. The Book of the City of Ember, which all children studied in school, taught otherwise. “The city of Ember was made for us long ago by the Builders,” the book said. “It is the only light in the dark world. Beyond Ember, the darkness goes on forever in all directions.”
She bent over The Book of the City of Ember and read a few sentences: “The citizens of Ember may not have luxuries, but the foresight of the Builders, who filled the storerooms at the beginning of time, has ensured that they will always have enough, and enough is all that a person of wisdom needs.”
“Curiosity leads to trouble.”
“Can you explain to me about the generator?” he asked. “Can you tell me how it works?”
The old man just sighed. “All I know is, the river makes it go.”
“But how?”
The man shrugged. “Who knows? Our job is just to keep it from breaking down.”
“You haven’t forgotten the baby?”
“Oh, yes. She’s...I think she’s down in the shop.”
“By herself?” Lina stood up and ran down the stairs. She found Poppy sitting on the floor of the shop, enmeshed in a tangle of yellow yarn. As soon as she saw Lina, Poppy began to howl.
Lina picked her up and unwound the yarn, talking soothingly, though she was so upset that her fingers trembled. For Granny to forget the baby was dangerous.
Just recently, an official job called trash sifter had been created. Every day a team of people methodically sorted through the trash heaps in search of anything that might at all be useful. They’d come back with broken chair legs that could be used for repairing window frames [...] Lina hadn’t thought about it before, but now she wondered about the trash sifters. Were they there because Ember really was running out of everything?
Later, in her bedroom, with Poppy asleep, she took the two colored pencils from her pocket. They were not quite as beautiful as they had been. When she held them, she remembered the powerful wanting she had felt in that dusty store, and the feeling of it was mixed up with fear and shame and darkness.
Lina rather liked having Mrs. Murdo around—it was a bit like having a mother there. [...] When Mrs. Murdo was there, shoes got picked up and put away, spills were wiped off the furniture, and Poppy always had on clean clothes. Lina could relax when Mrs. Murdo was around. She knew things were taken care of.
“Is it true about the light bulbs?”
“Is what true?”
“That there aren’t very many left?”
Lizzie shrugged. “I don’t know. They hardly ever let us go down into the storerooms. All we see are the reports the carriers turn in— [...]
“But when you see the report for the light bulb rooms, what does it say?”
“I never get to see that one,” said Lizzie. “That one, and a few other ones like the vitamin report, only a few people can see.”
Maybe she should show it to the mayor. She didn’t trust him, either. But if this document was important to the future of the city, he was the one who should know about it.
He found another supply closet at the far south end of the Pipeworks—at least, he assumed that’s what it was. It was at the end of a tunnel with a rope strung across it; a sign hanging from the rope said, “Caved In. No Entry.” Doon entered anyway, ducking under the rope. He found no sign of a cave-in, but there were no lights.
The blue-green room, the orderly apartment, the meals cooked, and the blankets tucked in cozily at night—all this gave her a feeling of comfort, almost luxury. She was grateful for Mrs. Murdo’s kindness. I am not ready yet to be alone in the world, she thought.
And if the cans hadn’t come from a market, where had they come from? There was only one answer: they had come from the storerooms. Somehow, Lizzie had gotten them because she worked in the storeroom office. Had she paid for them? How much? Or had she taken them without paying?
“And Lizzie—he isn’t just stealing things for you. He has a store! He steals things and sells them for huge prices!”
“He does not,” said Lizzie, but she looked worried.
“He does. I know because I bought something from him just a few weeks ago. He has a whole box of colored pencils.”
“Looper says it’s all going to be gone soon anyway, why not live as well as we can right now?”
“But Lizzie, why should you get all that? Why you and not other people?”
“Because we found it. Because we can get at it.”
“I don’t think it’s fair,” said Lina.
Lizzie spoke as if she were talking to a not-very-bright child. “You can have some, too. That’s what I’m telling you.”
“That’s the solution he keeps telling us about. It’s a solution for him, not the rest of us. He gets everything he needs, and we get the leftovers! He doesn’t care about the city. All he cares about is his fat stomach!”
“If this were an ordinary situation, the mayor would be the one to tell.”
“But the mayor is the one committing the crime,” said Doon.
“So then we should tell the guards, I guess,” said Lina. “They’re next in authority next to the mayor. Though I don’t like them much, [...] Especially the chief guard.”
“My grandmother died.”
“Oh!” Doon’s face fell. “That’s so sad,” he said. “I’m sorry.” His sympathy made tears spring to Lina’s eyes. Doon looked startled for a moment, and then he took a step toward her and wrapped his arms around her. He gave her a squeeze so quick and tight that it made her cough, and then it made her laugh. She realized all at once that Doon [...] was the person she knew better than anyone now. He was her best friend.
“There is so much darkness in Ember, Lina. It’s not just outside, it’s inside us, too. Everyone has some darkness inside. It’s like a hungry creature. It wants and wants and wants with a terrible power. And the more you give it, the bigger and hungrier it gets.”
What was he thinking? If he still had light bulbs when everyone else in Ember had run out, would he enjoy sitting in his lit room while the rest of the city drowned in darkness? And when the power finally ran out for good, all his light bulbs would be useless. Possessions couldn’t save him—how could he have forgotten that?
For a moment, the fear he’d felt when he saw the guards was replaced by rage. The familiar hot wave rose in him, and he wanted to grab a handful of his father’s nails or pot shards and throw them against the wall. But all at once he remembered: if the guards were after him, they’d be after Lina, too. He had to warn her. He dashed down the stairs, his anger turning into power for his running feet.
“Because that’s what I suddenly realized on the roof of the Gathering Hall, Doon. I’d been thinking before that I had to leave Poppy because she’d be safe with Mrs. Murdo. But when the lights went out, I suddenly knew: There is no safety in Ember. Not for long. Not for anyone. I couldn’t leave her behind. Whatever happens to us now, it’s better than what’s going to happen there.”
Disaster seems very close. Everything will be all right, they tell us, but only a few people believe them. Why, if it’s going to be all right, do we see it getting worse every day?
And of course this plan is proof that they think the world is doomed.
