We Are Satellites

by Sarah Pinsker

  “Can we talk?”

  “It’s a free country. You’re welcome to talk.”

  Sophie pushed off with her legs and started to swing. She pumped hard, aiming for the sky, full of billions of twinkling Pilots. After a minute, she noticed David was beside her and swinging too, catching her, passing her. She tried to gain a few inches, pulled even, but then he managed a big swing that took him nearly vertical. She stopped trying and slowed until she was again scuffing the ground with her boots. David kept going. She contemplated walking away while he was still swinging, but she knew he would notice. He’d probably jump off in midarc and land on his feet. He could probably fly.

  “I’m sorry,” he said a short time later, earthbound again.

  “You should be.”

  “They told me. I didn’t know it was a thing for you.”

  “A thing for me? How could you not know? Oh yeah, because you’ve been gone for six years.”

  “You never said anything about it. Not on the phone or in messages.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you. You had enough to worry about.”

  “But then how can you blame me for not knowing?”

  “Because you should have just known. Even if I never said a word. You know how hard school was for me without a Pilot. You remember how tense things were when Mom started talking about getting hers.” That had been only two years after he had gotten his, before he left. “You’ve never even liked it all that much, yourself. You’ve said so. So why sell it for them? They don’t need help.”

  He put his face in his hands. His Pilot gleamed above his ear.

  “Soph, I’m sorry. It’s . . . I’ve been thinking of getting out for over a year, but I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do. Then Balkenhol called me out of the blue looking for spokespeople who had used their Pilots to achieve excellence in their fields, and I was already on their list from that ad the Army had me do. How could I say no?”

  Sophie put a hand on his back. “You would have found a job eventually. You could have said no.”

  “Or I could have cost more people their lives like—you don’t understand how done I was with being there.” He looked her full on for the first time in the conversation. “I have to do this, Soph, but maybe they’ll let me talk about how it really is. Maybe they’ll let me say it saved me and my unit a hundred times over, but I hate the noise.”

  Sophie doubted it, but kept her mouth shut.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  JULIE

  Julie wished there could have been one night without drama. Sophie stood so quickly she knocked her plate to the floor. She didn’t stop to pick it up when it broke.

  “What was that about?” David asked after the door slammed. “Should I go after her?”

  Julie went to grab paper towels for the ice cream and crumbs, leaving Val to answer. “She’ll be okay. I don’t think she’ll go far without her bag. Your sister has become very involved in the anti-Pilot movement. You know there’s an anti-Pilot movement, right?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know anything about it.”

  Julie listened as she cleaned, curious how Val would characterize Sophie’s group. “They think it’s been adopted too fast. It’s leaving people behind, and they say there’s negative data being suppressed, and BNL is lying to the government, and the government is lying to the parents, and the schools are going along for the ride because it helps their numbers.”

  “That’s a lot of lying,” David said. “Do you think it’s true?”

  Val raised her palms. “I think there’s probably some lying going on somewhere in there. You know me: I wasn’t a fan of the idea to begin with.”

  “What about you, Mom?” David asked.

  Julie stood, plate shards in one hand, dirty towel clutched in the other. “My Pilot has never been anything but helpful, so it’s hard to see the downside. Like yours.”

  David got to his feet. “I’m going to go find Sophie.”

  After the door had closed on David as well, Julie went into the kitchen to throw the plate shards in the trash. Val came up behind and held her.

  “I can’t believe he’s back for good. He really did say that, right? I’m not dreaming?”

  “He said it,” Julie confirmed, tossing the rag in the sink and turning into her wife’s embrace. “No more checking body counts online. For us, anyway.”

  “Do you think he’s planning on living here?”

  “No idea. I would think he’s got the money to get a place of his own, but I’m not going to push him if he hasn’t thought about it yet. He can stay as long as he needs, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Me, too.” Val pulled away to load the dishwasher. “But if he still eats the same way, we should probably ask him to chip in for groceries.”

  Julie laughed. “And we may have to dig some trenches if those two partisans are both under one roof.”

  “I don’t think David’s all that partisan, Jules. It sounds like it’s just a job for him. Hopefully he can get on his feet and then move on to something that’ll cause less family friction.”

  Val disappeared into the bathroom and Julie walked through the house, turning off lights. She left the door unlocked in case neither kid had taken keys. Half an hour later, already in bed, she heard the door creak and two whispering voices and footsteps and two closing bedroom doors, and all was right in the world, if only for a night. She closed her eyes and waited for her Pilot to cycle down to sleep.

  * * *

  • • •

  Even in a morning mall, populated only by strolling seniors and Piloted guards, Julie noticed the changes in David. He walked with a tension that went beyond military bearing, like a drawn bow. He stayed close to the wall on one side. She followed the movement of his head and eyes from the corner of her own eye; Pilot watching Pilot. His eyes darted to the rooftops, to each passing shopper, to the storefronts, to the kiosks and planters and garbage cans. He clenched and unclenched his fists, touching his sides occasionally.

  “You okay, Davey?”

  “Fine,” he said. The hairs on the back of his neck began to curl with sweat.

  “What are you looking at?”

  He shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”

  “Try me.”

  He stopped, so she did, too. He looked her full in the eyes. Adult to adult. Then he turned and began to point. “Before Pilots, there was a specific order. First soldier would check the rooftops, second had the next floor of windows down from the roof, next person the floor below that. There was still a risk you were missing something in the building on the other side of the street. We still technically do that, but Pilots let us take it all in, over and over: left, right, forward, up, back. It’s hard to turn off. I can’t stop checking.”

  “I’m sorry, Davey. I didn’t realize. We shouldn’t have come here.”

  “I asked. I need clothes, and there’s no point hiding in the house. Might as well learn to deal with this sooner than later.”

  “Are you, uh, will the Army pay for counseling? Not that you’re not doing okay, but maybe it would help?”

  “We’re supposed to attend these sessions on fitting back into civilian life. I wasn’t going to go, but maybe it’s not a bad idea.”

  “Not a bad idea at all,” she agreed. “Now, let’s find you some clothes.”

  They resumed walking. He didn’t look any less tense or less vigilant. They passed a guard, who stared at David with the same cool assessment David used to eye everyone else. If security was trained to watch for people who might crack, David’s demeanor certainly would ring some alarm bells. She wanted to take his hand, to unclench it for him, but it wasn’t her place, and she didn’t want to embarrass him or make it worse.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  SOPHIE

  The second the front door closed behind Julie and David, S
ophie dived for her phone. She didn’t trust anything this important to even their most secure message boards, let alone a call or a text. Her message to Gabe the night before had read simply, Coffee. Tomorrow ten a.m. Hugs.

  Hugs meant “urgent.” Urgent coffee meant to meet at the anarchist coffee shop; they’d move on from there. She kept her phone muted so her moms wouldn’t hear it, but checked it repeatedly until she fell asleep. He hadn’t responded, but now she saw a message had come an hour before. Hugs. See ya.

  She glanced at the time: nine thirty. Great. Yesterday’s clothes back on, and she didn’t have time to spike her hair, so she made do with gelling it straight back into a narrow ponytail. She ran out the door, then realized she’d forgotten to take her pills. Back to the kitchen to slam the meds, but it threw her timing off; her bus sped past the intersection as she sprinted toward the corner.

  “Dammit,” she said, slowing to a walk. No sense in rushing now; the next bus would be twenty minutes. She had used the code for “urgent” and she was going to be late to her own damn meeting. She stood in the empty bus shelter and fumbled for her phone to text an apology. She didn’t think her lateness inconvenienced Gabe too much, but she didn’t want him to think she didn’t take things seriously.

  A car honked, and the passenger window lowered. “You’re from the meeting, right? The other night?”

  She stooped to peer into the open window. It was the kid from a few nights ago. She had guessed he was fifteen, but he must be sixteen at least to be driving. Still a kid. What was his name? She tried to come up with it but drew a blank.

  “Dominic,” he said, rescuing her. “And you were Sophie, right?”

  “I still am.”

  “Do you need a ride somewhere?” The door unlocked.

  She hesitated for only a second. “Yeah. I’m late to meet somebody, actually. You heading downtown?”

  That was a stupid question, since his car was already pointed in that direction, but he nodded. She slipped into the front seat, squashing her backpack on top of her feet. A zipper dug into her shin and she smoothed it, then buckled herself in. “Thanks. I’m supposed to be at Stomping Grounds in twenty minutes and I missed my bus.”

  “No problem. That’s where I was headed, too.”

  Sophie didn’t know cars, but this was a pretty luxurious one. The seats were leather, and the interior was roomier than her parents’ electric cars. The dashboard looked like a spaceship’s. She held her head away from the seat back in case her hair stuff stained it. Her clothes felt grubby all of a sudden, and she hoped she didn’t smell.

  “Do you live around here?” she asked.

  “A couple of neighborhoods north. In the county.” He waved a hand in the direction he’d come from and made a face. “As soon as I graduate I’m moving to the city.”

  “Graduate? Are you a senior? I thought you were way younger.” She shouldn’t have said that; people took her for younger all the time because she was short.

  He made another face. “Sophomore, but I’m seventeen. I got held back for not having a Pilot.”

  “What’s your story?” Sophie asked. “Why no Pilot?”

  “Paranoid grandparents,” he said. “They were the ones who suggested I go to the meeting—but don’t get me wrong; I think they’re probably right to be paranoid. I just haven’t decided yet.”

  “That’s reasonable. Too bad more parents don’t let their kids decide for themselves.”

  “Yeah. That mandatory thing you were talking about at the meeting was pretty crazy, but I feel like things are headed that way. I mean, driving tests are all geared for people who are Piloted now. I barely got my license. They expected me to know what was in front of me and behind me at the same time.”

  He didn’t have trouble driving, despite the complaint. The car weaved smoothly in and out of lanes, avoiding a squirrel and then a woman with a baby carriage. A few raindrops spattered the windshield, making her grateful she’d accepted the ride.

  “So what did you think?” she asked. “Of the meeting?”

  He flashed her a smile. “It was pretty interesting. I mean, there’s so much going on. I don’t know if I’m ready to be an activist— I haven’t made up my mind if maybe I should go with the crowd on this after all—but you definitely gave me a lot to think about.”

  “Good. All we want is to show you there’s an option not to have one. It doesn’t matter if you want to be an activist. Though we’d love to have you . . .” She blushed and was momentarily glad he didn’t have a Pilot and wouldn’t see the color in her cheeks. He was older than she’d thought, but still too young for her.

  The coffee shop was on the corner of a main street and a block of boarded-up rowhouses. The busy street was parked up, so Dominic turned onto the abandoned one, which had several empty spots. He parallel parked pretty well for a county kid, if Sophie was any judge, though the fancy car gave him guidance, some of which he listened to and some of which he ignored. He got it right the second time.

  She got out, then waited for him in the rain as he set a gear lock on the wheel.

  “My grandparents insist,” he said.

  “You’re lucky,” she said. “I bet most grandparents wouldn’t let you park a car that nice within a mile of this place.”

  He scratched his head and beeped the car a second time, as if he wasn’t sure if he’d done it already. “Yeah, um, they don’t exactly know I’m here. I meant they insist when I drive anywhere.”

  “Gotcha,” Sophie said.

  Stomping Grounds was the type of coffee shop that attracted only the truly dedicated: dedicated to caffeine, dedicated to revolution, dedicated to spending long hours hunched over a computer. It made no concessions to attracting commuters. There were no fancy coffee drinks, no flavor shots, no blenders. Nobody would have etched art in your foam, even if you had foam. They had the basics: coffee, assorted loose-leaf teas, scones, and muffins catering to a range of tastes and intolerances.

  The music, when there was music, was dealer’s choice, usually a barista’s band, or the barista’s friends. Two public computer terminals sat in one corner, tribute to the old world order; the manager who maintained them was an expert on Net privacy. An actual working phone booth occupied another corner, with a landline phone. This was less for countercultural purposes than for the few old-school radicals who had refused cell phones. A sign taped above it read we don’t think this phone is tapped, but like any technology, use at your own risk. Below that, someone had added, educate yourself, and below that, someone else had written why do you think i’m here? Subsequent graffiti digressed into metaphysical issues.

  It took Sophie a moment to adjust to the dim interior, though the day outside wasn’t particularly bright. She brushed the rain from her eyes and searched the room. Several barstools were occupied, as were most seats at the communal tables. She recognized some occupants from various meetings; others looked like homeless guys trying to escape the rain. On closer inspection, one of the homeless guys was actually Gabe with his locs tucked under a stained cap. He waved, and she waved back, holding up her index finger to tell him to wait a second.

  “Hi. Herbal tea to go,” she said to the barista, digging her travel mug out of her backpack. The barista motioned toward the teas, and Sophie spooned some Lemon Mint into her mug’s infuser. The barista filled it with hot water, and she headed for the door.

  “Mind if I tag along?” asked Dominic, grabbing a disposable cup. Sophie had forgotten he was behind her. “I was supposed to meet a friend, but I don’t see him here.”

  She looked at Gabe, who shrugged. “Your news, your decision.”

  She debated for a second. How secret was her news? Anybody could find it out if they wanted to. She motioned him to follow.

  The rain had slowed, thankfully. The Grounds was a pretty safe place to talk, but you never knew who was listening; better to walk aroun
d. This was one of those spitting rains that would soak them slowly, in increments, like boiling a frog. She was glad for the heavy canvas of her Army jacket and her boots. They were comfortable and reminded her of her brother, but best of all they were practical.

  Sophie took a sip from her mug as they walked, burning her tongue. She took another sip anyway, then a deep breath. Gabe was waiting. He didn’t like drama, and she wasn’t trying to be dramatic. Just careful.

  “You know my brother?” she began. All in.

  “The soldier. We never met.”

  “Yeah, exactly. He came home last night. He said he was leaving the military. And get this? He got a job at Balkenhol.”

  Gabe stopped walking and stared at her. Dominic, a pace behind in what seemed like a misguided attempt to be unobtrusive, collided with Gabe’s back, sloshing his drink on himself. Gabe ignored him.

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “No. For real.” Sophie knew she’d done the right thing in telling Gabe. This wasn’t drama. This was important.

  “Think of the access,” Gabe said, walking again, faster now. Sophie jogged to keep up.

  “Not that it’ll be easy,” she warned. “It’s not like he’ll leave his passwords around.”

  “No, but I’m sure you’ll hear things. Maybe you can ask for a take little sister to work day.”

  “I am not playing a kid card,” she said sharply.

  He slowed. “Yeah. Sorry. Getting ahead of myself. We’ll figure something out. This is definitely useful intel. I apologize. Just thinking how to get you into the building.”

  “I guess I could say I’m interested in an internship or something,” she conceded, now that the sting was gone. “I can play a role if we need me to.”

  “Nah. He knows you’re not interested, right? He’d get suspicious if you suddenly wanted a tour. And I don’t know if Balkenhol would consider someone for an internship who didn’t have a Pilot. We’ll use this in another way.”