Free The Lost City of Faar by D.J. MacHale Page B

him.”
    Uncle Press grabbed our gear and walked toward the stairs. I stayed there a moment, letting those words sink in. Here I had just met a guy who seemed to love everything there was about life—about his life—and we now had the job of telling him that it was all going to change. In my short time of being a Traveler, that was the hardest thing I had to deal with—finding out that my life wasn’t what I thought it was, and having to leave it behind.
    I didn’t look forward to being the one who had to bring someone else’s world crashing down around them.

JOURNAL #5
(CONTINUED)
CLORAL
    F rom the moment I first left my home in Stony Brook, I’d been jumping from one disaster to the next. It seemed like I was always scared, or confused, or scared and confused. There were a few times when things didn’t totally suck, but for the most part I was getting slammed every time I turned around.
    But after spending some time on Cloral, I am very happy to write that the next few weeks were actually pretty great, for a change. From the second we stepped onto the habitat of Grallion, I felt safe. But it was more than that. As I learned about Grallion and how the floating habitats worked on Cloral, I felt as if I had found a place that had gotten it right. The Clorans had a society and a way of life that was like a perfect machine, where every piece and every person played an important part. Everyone relied on everyone else, and they respected each other for the roles they played.
    That’s not to say there weren’t problems. The Clorans weren’t mindless Disney animatrons who lived only to serve or anything like that. Far from it. They had their own opinions, and they didn’t always agree with one another. It was the big picture that they kept in perspective. There were no wars andno tension between people of different races. There didn’t seem to be any class distinction either. Meaning, though some people had more responsibility than others and got paid more salary, no one treated anyone like a second-class citizen. It was amazing.
    I tried to figure out how such an ideal society could exist, when supposedly evolved societies like ours on Second Earth always seemed to be at one another’s throats. The best theory I could come up with is that it was because each and every person on Cloral faced the same big challenge—they had to deal with living on the water. Yes, they had created these amazing boat cities that made you feel as if you were on dry land, but you weren’t. You were floating. That meant anything could happen. A rogue storm could wipe out an entire city. Growing enough food to feed the entire world was an ever present worry. A simple virus could endanger an entire habitat. This was not an easy life. These people were united by a common cause—survival. Any other disputes were trivial compared to the larger challenges facing them every day.
    But I’m getting way ahead of myself. Let me tell you what happened right after Uncle Press and I arrived on Grallion.
    Since Uncle Press had been there before, he gave me a tour. As we climbed up from the depths of the docks, I noticed two things. One was that the inside of this barge was a labyrinth of machinery, pipes, engines, and pumps. I looked down long catwalks where workers busied themselves keeping the giant floating habitat running.
    The second thing I noticed was that nothing seemed to be made out of metal. I’m not sure what the material was, I guess you would call it plastic or fiberglass or something. But all the walkways, pipes, supports, girders, and even the machines looked to be made out of the same kind of lightweight material.When we walked on the stairs, rather than the sharp clanging sound of metal, our footfalls were almost silent, as if we were walking on carpet. I guess it made sense. You have to use lightweight stuff when everything has to float. And here’s a weird thing: Even