by Tina Chan
“So, fellow citizens, keep your eyes and ears open and report any suspicious activity or persons to the Homeland Security. You can contact your local security branch by dialing 1600 plus your area code,” said Debbie. “That’s all there is for now. Until next time, folks.”
A commercial for the latest electro-slate began to play and Chelsa clicked her electro-slate off.
“Door-to-door search?” Finn said. He snitched his crutches off the couch and swung over to a window and peered out, like he was looking to see if he could spot the officers making their way down the street.
“Is there a place where we can stay until the search blows over?” Troop asked.
“I can think of one or two,” Jane answered. “But getting you four to the safe place may be more risk than it’s worth.”
As if to emphasize Jane’s point, a Homeland Security helicopter whirled by overhead. The sound of the helicopter’s blade spinning shook the apartment walls.
“But we can’t stay here,” Chelsa said. “Sooner or later, the officials are going to search your place and find us.”
At this point, I couldn’t have cared less, Kristi thought.
A little, rebellious voice in the back of her head spoke up. What is wrong with you today, Kristi? It sounds like you’re planning your death.
Well, maybe I am. I can’t believe I haven’t realized this for a long time: there is no point in life. It just goes on. Why doesn’t it seem like no one else has noticed that?
The voice responded, Well, have you considered this: Life is an endless chain of meaningless actions. Your purpose is to bring meaning to those actions.
Oh, thought Kristi, then, Am I seriously having a mental conversation with myself? I think I’m going insane.
“I’ve got it!” Troop snapped his fingers in excitement. “Never mind…I just lost it. Give me a second.”
“While we wait for Troop to relocate his idea, does anyone have any suggestions for our current predicament?” Finn asked. “We’re rather pressed for time right now.”
I might as well take a stab with figuring out how to evade the officials for now, Kristi told herself. Okay, so I know what is happening to the disappearing Accidents and I also have proof of the government funded science corporations testing on them, thanks to the contact-cam. How does the Disappearance Case relate to the Individualism Case, though? How does missing people connect to the population forgetting “perfection” is an opinion, not a fact or standard set by the authority?
Suddenly she got it. Kristi looked up from her lap and saw that Troop seemed to have reached some sort of conclusion as well.
“If people—” they both started to say at the same time.
“Go ahead,” Troop said. “Say what you wanted first.”
“Alright.” Kristi took a look around the room. Everyone’s attention was latched onto her. “I think what my parents wanted to do was bring awareness of the Accidents’ plight to the public in hopes that if people know the price of having a genetically ‘perfect’ race they will condemn it. The purpose of the Naturals is to show everyone perfection is an illusion. The public buys into the propaganda that portrays Accidents as dumb, ugly and maybe even dangerous people, but we all know that is not true. I mean, look at us.” She tipped her head towards Chelsa, Finn and Troop. “We’re not uncivilized savages. Most of the Perfects have been corrupted into believing without genetic alteration, humans would become beasts.”
“Over seven billion points are spent each year on genetic alteration updates in the United Regions,” Jane interjected.
“Perfects are afraid of becoming imperfect,” Chelsa breathed out, catching onto her train of thoughts.
“Exactly,” Kristi said. “Except that doesn’t really make sense because Perfects aren’t perfect to begin with. And just because Accidents have no DNA tailoring doesn’t make them imperfect either.”
“You’ve lost me,” Finn said. “How can a person be neither perfect nor imperfect at the same time?”
“It all depends on the point of view of the person judging. But that’s not the main point. The main point is that people have forgotten how to be unique individuals. We need to remind the world there is no such thing as a one-size-fits all form of perfection.”
“That’s great and all,” said Finn. “But how does reminding the Perfects that perfection is an illusion going to help us right now?”
“I think I know how,” Troop said. “Nick and Jane, do you think you can override the government news station?”
“I believe so,” Jane said. “I’ve never tried to before, but that was because I’ve never had the need to. Is there a reason why you need an override?”
Troop nodded. “If we can cause some commotion that will hinder the Homeland Security for a while, it will give us the chance to sneak into the safe house to hide until the door-to-door search is over.”
“And what is your idea of causing some commotion?” asked Chelsa.
“I was getting to that. If we can broadcast the testing done on Accidents in search of more DNA alterations for Perfects on the public news-screens, then that should stir up some commotion on the streets. At the same time, we can start the Individualism Case by trying to convince the population that non-genetically altered people aren’t much different from Perfects. Two birds, one stone.”
That doesn’t sound like a very reliable plan, thought Kristi. But a plan is better than no plan.
chapter forty-seven
[ Troop ]
Nick passed an electro-slate to Troop and said, “Start editing the video you want Jane and I to broadcast on the public news-screens. All of the footage shot from the contact-cams is saved onto the file labeled ‘Lab Film’. I’m going to start stashing some of the Revealers-only-technology in the safe.” He unfolded his lanky frame from the couch. “You coming with me, Jane?”
Jane followed her husband out of the living room and Troop opened up the Lab Film folder and began to filter through the recording. Most of the shots wouldn’t be useful for his purpose. Eventually, he found some footage he deemed suitable for making a video clip to stir up some trouble.
“Do you want some help with the film?” Chelsa asked. “If not, I think I’ll help Jane and Nick hide their equipment.”
“Go ahead and help them,” he said.
“Is the clip done?” Finn asked.
“Almost.” Troop rewound the video. “Let me play it one more time to make sure it’s good to air.”
“I don’t think you’ll have time to do that.” Finn drew the curtains over the window he was looking out. “The Searchers are at this apartment complex. I just saw a group of them enter the building. We have to air the film now.”
“Okay. We should have some time before the Searchers arrive since we’re on the thirty-seventh floor.”
“All the same, there’s no more time to edit the film,” Chelsa said.
“Are Nick and Jane still busy?” Troop asked.
“Nope.” Nick strode into the room. “Just finished putting away the last of the equipment.”
“Here’s your slate. I saved the film clip under the name InTheLab.”
“How long does the clip run?”
“A bit over ten minutes. I hope that’s not too long.”
“No, not at all.” Nick accepted the electro-slate containing the precious video. “I’ll get started with the override. Keep an eye on the public news-screen. When your video starts playing, start to make your way to the safe place. Oh wait, I haven’t given you directions to the safe place, have I?”
Troop shook his head.
“Alright, you remember Solomon’s Sandwich, right?”
“Yeah.”
“A few blocks away from the sandwich shop is a city park. In the park there is a Meditation Garden.”
Kristi cut him off. “Oh, I know the place you’re talking about.”
“Beneath one of the benches is a trapdoor that leads to an underground shelter,” Nick said. “Stay in there until
a Revealer member comes and gets you. I’ll send for someone to fetch you guys if Jane or I can’t do it ourselves.”
Jane coughed gently, interrupting Nick. “I think we better hurry with the news-screen override. The Searchers have reached the fifteenth floor already.”
The couple disappeared from the living room, retreating back into the electro-room. Finn resumed his position by the window while Chelsa and Kristi conversed quietly. Troop fingered the straps of his backpack. He had packed lightly, taking nothing more than a few granola bars, water bottles and an electro-slate; he shouldn’t need anything else if all went according to the plan.
Some time passed, and he wondered if Nick and Jane were actually capable of overriding the system. What if they overestimated their skills? Troop thought.
Knock! Knock!
Everyone swiveled their head to the door.
“This is the Homeland Security conducting an official door-to-door search. Open up,” barked a sharp voice.
“It’s not us,” Kristi said. “Not yet.”
Some of the tension deflated from the room. There was the sound of a door being thrown open a few units down. Finn pried the window open, preparing an escape route.
Knock! Knock!
The rapping noise sounded louder. Troop guessed the Searchers were two units away from the Filches’ quarters. Nick or Jane, please hurry up and get the film playing on the new-screens.
“Open up! This is Homeland Security conducting a door-to-door search.” The voice sounded even closer.
Troop slung on his backpack, ready to flee at any second. He paused mid-action, though, when he saw Finn drop his crutches out the window.
“What are you doing?” There was no way Finn had just accidently lost his crutches in one go.
“Storing my crutches where I can retrieve them later. You didn’t think I was going to carry my crutches and descend the apartment at the same time, did you? I was planning on getting out of here via the fire escape unless you have a better idea.”
Troop poked his head out the window, spotting the crutches piled together in some hydrangea bushes; one of them appeared to be crooked, though Troop wasn’t positive, since he was thirty-seven stories above the ground; he had to squint to see the crutches far below him.
“I hope your crutches are covered by insurance,” Troop said.
Finn made a “whatever” face.
Knock! Knock!
All occupants in the living room froze. There was no mistaking it. The Searchers were here.
“Out. Everybody out the windows now,” Troop said, his voice terse.
“Homeland Security conducting a door-to-door search. Open up!” bellowed a masculine voice on the other side of the door.
Nick and Jane came thundering into the room.
“Okay,” Jane said. “Hold on a second.” She turned to Troop, Kristi, Chelsa and Finn and said in a quiet voice, “The override is taking longer than we thought. We’ll keep on trying, but in the meantime, get out of here.”
“Open up!” a Searcher commanded. “We will break in forcefully if you do not cooperate.”
“Coming.” Jane motioned for the group to hurry up and leave.
Chelsa clambered out the window, followed by Finn with some difficulties. Ghost mewed plaintively, watching his owner leave without him. Jane stroked the top of his head, comforting the leopard.
Troop indicated for Kristi to go out the window before him.
“If you do not open up in ten seconds, we will shoot down the door!” This was followed by some pounding to emphasize the point.
Troop hastened and climbed over the windowsill; the door was bashed down a split second later. He ducked down, pressing his body against the wall and finding some footing on the fire escape. He looked up and saw Nick drawing the blinds over the window.
“You guys managing alright?” Troop asked.
“More or less,” Kristi replied.
“My bad leg is throwing me off balance,” Finn said. His knuckles were a chalky white from squeezing the railings.
Troop held his breath, watching Finn perilously climb down the fire escape with his paralyzed leg hanging limply. Kristi shortly joined Finn on the platform on the thirty-sixth floor.
“It’s working,” Kristi said. “Troop, you’re film is playing on the public news-screens.”
Troop took a glance at the nearest news-screen. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. Debbie the reporter was reporting some type of new product being recalled. He was about to tell Kristi this when the news-screen began to blink on and off. Then Debbie was replaced by the video Troop had created earlier.
He descended a few more rungs of the rusty fire escape and observed the citizens milling the streets of Klisbury. A few were watching the news-screens and scratching their heads in confusion, but most still hadn’t noticed the hijacked screens yet.
Troop counted how far he’d descended. Twenty floors left before we’re home free, he thought. Provided no one on the streets spots us making an escape. When he cast another look to the news-screen, Debbie’s face was back on.
“Sorry for the minor broadcasting incident that occurred just a few seconds ago,” Debbie said. “Everything is under—”
Her words were chopped off when Troop’s film began to play again on the screen. Troop felt his sneakers slip on the edge of a platform and he barely saved himself from free falling fifteen stories. His fingers scrabbled against the window ledge nearest to him.
“This is the truth,” a voice boomed out from the public speakers lining the streets below him. With a start, Troop realized it was his voice being projected from the speakers. Somehow, Nick and Jane must’ve manipulated the speakers into playing above the standard set volume in addition to overriding the public news-screens.
Nine floors left. So far so good; no one has noticed us yet. Troop resisted the temptation to watch his film being played. From the sounds coming from the streets, it seemed that the citizens had finally notice something was amiss with the news-screens. Five floors to go. I think we’re actually going to pull this off.
chapter forty-eight
[ Kristi ]
Kristi was worried. She knew Finn was tiring, even though he worked hard not to show it.
“Three more levels to go,” she muttered to herself, thankful they were low enough on the fire escape to be blocked by the trees planted along the edge of the apartment complex. “Three more left, three more left, three more left,” she chanted under her breath. “Two more levels left, two more left.”
“Success.” Finn pushed off the rim of the platform and awkwardly landed on the ground. He braced his fall with his hands and knees then pushed himself onto his feet. “You guys coming?”
Chelsa silently dropped down beside Finn; somehow, Finn had surpassed Chelsa while making his descent. Kristi shimmied her way down until she was only eight feet above the ground before leaping off the fire escape. Troop was beside her in an instant.
Finn hobbled over to his crutches and let out a grunt. “Guess I’ll have to make do with only one for now.”
He shoved a crutch beneath his arms then tossed the other back behind the bushes; it was little more than a piece of mangled metal after its thirty-seven-story plunge.
“I’ll lead,” Troop said.
“I know how to get to the Meditation Garden, too,” Kristi said. “I don’t mind taking the lead.”
Troop raised his eyebrows. “Allowing you to lead us to the Wayland Hotel was the last time I trust you with directions.”
“Point taken.”
Troop went out of his way to make sure they took all the backstreets and dodged behind a building every time a law enforcer came into view. Although, to be honest, Kristi thought they could’ve walked down Main Street in plain sight all the way to the Meditation Garden and no one would’ve noticed. All eyes were trained on the public news-screens, which were still exhibiting Troop’s film.
A few more turns and backtracks later, they were at
the Meditation Garden. There were a few soccer matches being held in the city park, but the Meditation Garden itself was void of citizens. Visiting the garden in daylight, Kristi realized it wasn’t as big as she had imagined it to be. At most, the garden took up an acre of space.
A small dirt path spiraled its ways through the bamboo plants and trees until it reached the center of the garden. A small pond with shimmering droid-koi splashing in the water dominated the heart of the garden. Moss covered stone benches surrounded the pond.
“Did Nick say which bench the trapdoor is beneath?” Chelsa asked.
“No,” replied Troop. “Start searching, everyone.”
Kristi dropped to her knees and peered beneath the bench besides her. A layer of dead leaves obscured the ground. She stuck her hand into the space to sweep aside the foliage. No trapdoor. She moved onto the next bench. Same results. Onto the next bench.
Chelsa pointed to the bench Kristi was searching below. “I already checked that one.”
“Did we leave any unchecked?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Let’s recheck all of them, then,” Troop said. “The trapdoor must be pretty well hidden if it has to remain undetected for a while.”
Everyone got back onto their hands and knees and started a second sweep through for the elusive trapdoor. Well, everyone but Kristi. A trapdoor beneath a bench in a public garden seems just a bit too obvious, she thought. If I had to hide the entrance to a secret place, where would I place it?
“Kristi, why aren’t you helping?” Troop demanded.
“Hold on a second,” she said.
He let out a snort-slash-sigh. “In case you haven’t noticed, time’s not on our side.”
Kristi ignored him and walked over to a plaque positioned a few feet above the ground. It read:
Leonard Memorial Pond
Donated by the Klisbury Community Garden Club
The sign was nailed to a hunk of granite jutting out from the dirt; the granite didn’t have as extensive of moss growth compared to the stone benches. Which must mean the benches are older than the koi pond, Kristi thought.
