by Brian Yansky
“Betty stopped Anchise before he killed her,” I say. “Did you feel it?”
“Maybe,” Michael says. “I’m not sure.”
“She did.”
“Okay, let’s say she did. One small point.”
“What?”
“Betty’s dead.”
“We can run,” I say. “We won’t fight them directly. When we get stronger, then we’ll fight.”
“I can run, Tex. You just sort of walk fast.”
I ignore this remark. “We steal a car.”
“And go where?”
“West,” I say. “We find the rebels and join them.”
That’s when I know where we have to go. I feel it.
“We go to Taos. There are a lot of places to hide in those mountains around Taos, and I know the area.”
Michael says, “You might as well say the moon.”
“Why would we want to go to the moon?”
“Shut up,” he says.
Sometimes he’s so easy to irritate it’s almost not worth the effort. Almost.
“We get out of the cities. We get to a place where there aren’t that many of them. You heard what Lauren said.”
Lauren told us that when she was bused south from Chicago, she didn’t see any aliens at all between cities. The country felt abandoned. But nothing was abandoned, of course. It was all taken from us.
“So that’s your plan?” Michael says. “Steal a car and drive west? You must have thought long and hard to come up with so detailed a plan.”
“Taos, New Mexico.” I feel like that’s where we need to go. I feel it strongly. It’s almost like I can hear something in Taos, a whisper, calling me. I sure don’t tell Michael about this because I know what he would say. “Shut up.”
“It’s a long drive to Taos, right?”
“It’s a long, hard, hot drive,” I admit. “But no worries. They’ll probably kill us before we can get off the grounds anyway.”
“I’m guessing you weren’t on the debate team at your high school,” he says.
A Handler comes in then, so I really do shut up.
When I meet Lauren in line for dinner that night, she puts her arms around me and hugs me.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I’m about to say that it isn’t a big deal, that I didn’t even really know Betty. But then I feel something very close to a tear on my cheek. Maybe it actually is a tear.
I push the feeling away and get out of her hug. “I have something to tell all of you.”
By then Michael and Lindsey have joined us. I tell them all everything I know. I leave out the source of my information about the rebels, but I tell them they’re out there and they killed a Sans.
“How do you know all this?” Lauren says.
“You just have to trust me.”
I’ve chosen to make my escape pitch right as we sit down so that Michael’s mouth will be full. There’s so much food being stuffed in there that I know he won’t be able to object.
“We’re not helpless, and they’re not invincible,” I say. “We’ve got to try to escape.”
“You really think it’s possible?” Lauren says.
“My dad used to say that ordinary people can do extraordinary things in extraordinary times. That’s where we are. I think it’s possible.”
“We’ll need supplies,” Lindsey says.
Lauren and I both look at her. She shrugs. “Anything is better than staying here.”
Michael decides that he has to say something even if his mouth is mostly full. “They’re too strong, too fast.” He swallows. “It’s like we’re a high school football team going out to play the Super Bowl winners.”
I’m pleased to see the girls aren’t impressed by this sports analogy.
Lauren says, “I heard something today. Addyen told me that her husband will arrive soon. He’s on a ship a couple days away.”
“So?” I say.
“He’s not coming alone. He’s with a million aliens. A fleet of ships that’s going to land in just a few days.”
“Frick,” Lindsey says.
Michael actually stops eating.
“It gets worse,” she says. “There are millions more behind them. I asked Addyen, and she said maybe thirty million less than a year away.”
“So many?” I say. It’s like I’ve been punched in the gut. I have to take deep breaths.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lindsey says.
“It matters,” I say. “There won’t be any room for us.”
“Like what happened to the Native Americans,” Lauren says. “They were so outnumbered, they had nowhere to go.”
“Shut up,” Lindsey says.
“All I’m saying is karma isn’t just a five-letter word.”
Lindsey glares at her. “What is wrong with you? Do you think we should give up?”
“I think it’s pretty clear there isn’t much chance,” Lauren says.
“Look,” I say, “let’s just worry about getting out of here. That’s going to be hard enough.”
I look at Lauren, and she sighs.
“I can get food,” she says.
“I’ll go through the clothes,” Lindsey says. “Pack things for us.”
“We need some place to store stuff,” I say.
“There’s that hall closet on our floor,” Michael says. “No one uses it. I don’t think they’ll look in there. If we’re going to go pretty quickly, I mean.”
I can see they feel like I do; they’re scared but excited, too. We are going to act. For the first time since they conquered us, we’re going to do something unexpected. We’re going to fight back. Sure, we’re going to run away to do it, but we’re going to fight back.
My dearest,
I am pleased that you and the girls are so close. I can’t tell you how glad I will be to have you here.
My father has asked me to send his best wishes to you. He will not visit the colony as planned, though it has been named in his honor. Apparently he has business in another sector. That is what he says publicly. I know better. It’s the rumors of our troubles that keep him away. He has ignored my reassurances and canceled his trip to the colony. Once again he allows politics to guide him, and I am left to guide myself. So be it. I don’t need him.
My abilities have increased since last we were together. I am much stronger. I am stronger than all of the Handlers now. I have finally matured, and like my father and his father before him, I am reaping the genetic advantage of my bloodline.
I long to see you, to feel you, to link our minds. I think of the beauty of your skin, of the way the green deepens under the hint of blue, and I feel the lack of you deep inside me.
We will be happy here. We will be like royalty. This planet will be our kingdom. I will rule, and you will rule by my side.
PERSONAL LOG:
My wife will have heard the rumors by now, too, and will be frightened. I hope my letter will quell her fears. I want her to be happy here. We will be happy.
What is wrong with us Sanginians? Are we not the most powerful beings in the universe? Do we not inspire shock and awe wherever we go? The problem here is a small force of rebels. They are a nuisance, not a threat. The cowardly whispers that the colony will fail undermine us at every turn.
Of course, privately, I too am surprised by the abilities of the rebels to elude and attack us. This should not happen. I blame the scouts. Had they given us accurate information I would have taken more precautions with the product, been more forceful.
But I will not allow failure. Failure is not an option. I will destroy what needs to be destroyed and keep what can be sold. This product has no fatal flaw. The product is willful, yes, but we have had willful slaves in the past.
We will prevail over our enemies and their whisper campaigns against us. I will prevail.
Lauren steals some food, and bottled water. She’s made lists of things we might need. She’s the kind of girl who makes lists.
Lindsey gets us “out
fits” for hot and cool weather. She actually picks clothing to go with our eyes and skin tone and hair color. She’s practically filled the closet with clothes.
“It’s not that I have anything against being the best dressed escapee in history, but we don’t have room for all that stuff,” I say to Michael.
He says, “When the time comes, we’ll just grab a bag of essentials.”
That night at dinner, we try to talk down the aliens’ power in order to give ourselves courage.
“No alien is going to catch me,” Michael says.
“I’d like to see them catch me,” Lindsey says. “I will kick some alien butt if they do.”
That makes Michael smile. Lust will do that. It can make crazy look cute.
“I know I’ve been able to hide things from them,” I say.
“Me too,” Lauren says.
“They aren’t as strong as they think they are,” I say.
“Not nearly,” Lauren says.
“They can’t catch us,” Michael says.
Then we lapse into silence.
“So we’re ready,” Lauren says, breaking it.
“Except that we don’t know how to get past the security traps and whatever else is out there,” I say.
“What security traps?” Lauren says.
“I’ve been meeting a girl in a dream,” I say. “She told me about them.”
This pretty much stops conversation. Everyone is looking at me. They’re waiting. When you go through an alien invasion, your perspective kind of changes. I can feel their skepticism, but I feel something else, too.
“She’s his dream girl,” Michael says.
“Dream girl?” Lauren raises her eyebrows. They practically form disapproving question marks.
“She’s not my dream girl,” I say. “I communicate with her in a dream. That’s not the same thing.”
“Of course not,” Michael says, winking at Lindsey.
She laughs. Lindsey says, “Is this some kind of joke?”
“No,” I say.
It’s strange, but I can feel that they all kind of believe me.
“So where is she?” Lauren asks.
“Locked in a room.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“Probably that’s where they keep dream girls,” Michael says.
Lindsey and Michael actually high-five each other. I really wish they hadn’t gotten together.
“She knows things,” I say.
“What kind of things?”
“She knows about the rebels. She seems to know about the aliens.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
“Doesn’t that worry you?” Lauren says. “It worries me.”
“She’s like us, but she knows more and we need her.”
“I don’t like this. She’s locked away by herself. She comes to you in a dream. We don’t know anything about her.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say. “What matters is that we don’t know enough.”
“Enough?” Lindsey says. “What are you talking about?”
“We don’t know enough to get out of here alive,” I say. “If she can give us some edge we need her.”
“Maybe,” Lauren says.
“I say get her,” Lindsey says. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
“Dream girl,” Michael says. “Talking to a girl in dreams. We’re all freaks, Tex, but you are freak squared.”
Lindsey giggles. I think for a moment they’re going to high-five each other again, but I’m saved from that when Lauren says, “I trust you, Jesse. If you say we need her, then I guess we do.”
Everyone starts eating again. We’re scared. We’re excited. A Handler passes close by. I can feel his power more now that I’m stronger. We all can. For a few seconds the air buzzes as if it’s full of bees. We keep eating, but the excitement is gone. The fear, though — it stays.
To Senator & High Lord Vertenomous:
I am aware of the delicacy of your situation. I understand the political ramifications of a scandal. We still don’t have any proof that they are aware or even capable of hearing without our help. If you could allow me to conclude my investigation before making the transfer, I can ensure the success of the colony.
To Senator & High Lord Vertenomous:
Yes, I have received the official inquiry from the Coalition of Species Rights and other inquiries from religious sources who claim to be concerned that this product may be capable of linking to the One. If those fanatics had their way, we would still be struggling to survive in our dying solar system or we would be extinct. I know how you feel about them. I know you agree with me. If we just put them off and keep them away from the planet, all will be fine. The number of product that can hear on this planet is very small. An insignificant number. I admit they may have some latent ability that we have awakened, but it is far from awareness.
I understand the pressures you are under and I appreciate your help. I will not disappoint you.
To Senator & High Lord Vertenomous:
We have a problem. I’ve had my science officer do experiments on the product because we’ve detected changes, an increase in the abilities of those that could hear from the start and many who have developed hearing since initial contact, roughly ten thousand, perhaps a few more if rumors of rebel camps are true.
My science officer compared it to what happened on Rayden 2, where a similar change occurred. Apparently contact with us stimulated a part of the product’s mind that they couldn’t access before. What is most important is that the product on Rayden 2 advanced only to the level of a child. Many of them even lost hearing skill after that, but none, not one, advanced further. My science officer anticipates the same will happen here.
Nevertheless, we both know there will be an outcry across the Republic from species rights and religious groups who will claim the product is aware and cannot, by law, be treated as product. The company would suffer significant losses, unacceptable losses.
Here is my proposition: I will destroy all hearing product on this planet. The other heads of houses have already been contacted and all have agreed to my plan. We will claim that the product that could initially hear lost the ability. You will send me a small number of hearing product from our holdings to compensate for my loss. We’ll begin a campaign immediately to undermine the inevitable accusations. With quick, decisive action, we can still make this a profitable acquisition. The company will, no doubt, be very grateful.
We practice talking with our minds, and though we can’t hear each other perfectly — it’s a little like a cell phone with a faulty signal — we can all do it. I try to hear the Handlers talking to one another. Occasionally I hear bits of thoughts.
That night in the library, we all talk to each other with our minds. I can hear everyone pretty clearly except for Lauren. Her voice is lost in static every few seconds. She has to ask what’s been said, too, and it frustrates her. She’s used to being the quickest at everything.
We’re all freaks, Michael thinks. What is happening to us? We’re all turning into freaks. Nothing as freaky as dream boy here, but still.
Maybe we’ll turn back into ourselves when we get away from them, Lindsey thinks.
It won’t be like that, I think. We’re all hearing more. I hear other people sometimes now. I bet you do, too.
Lindsey thinks, The other day I heard a girl thinking about her mother and aunt. It was like a memory.
So it’s maybe like an evolutionary change, Lauren thinks.
Both Michael and Lindsey groan.
I’m just saying, maybe it’s permanent. Evolutionary changes have always caused discomfort.
I think, Like when apes went one way and what would become humans went another, there were probably hard feelings. There were probably some apes yelling at the ones becoming humans, “You guys are total freaks!”
Shut up, Michael thinks.
We’re preoccupied, and that’s
why we don’t hear Anchise.
You’re reading each other.
“What?” I say. “No. Reading? No.”
Everyone else denies it.
You’re lying.
We start denying it again.
Go to your rooms, he thinks, though we still have time before we normally have to go to our rooms.
A geeky guy named Ted uses my line about Anchise’s biological clock being off. I want to tell him to shut up, but I don’t get the chance. Anchise doesn’t even look at him. Ted falls to the floor. Ted is dead.
Sorry for your loss, Anchise thinks, not sounding sorry at all.
Anchise tells everyone to go to their rooms, and they all do. They practically run for the stairs. I can feel how he likes this. But something is wrong. They’ve been careful with us since those first few weeks. We’re property. We’re valuable. Even Handlers like Anchise have kept themselves from damaging us. Until now. Something has changed.
I try to go to sleep early that night. Of course it takes me a while. I have to count sheepdogs again. I get into the thousands this time.
I dream. I’m beside myself, which strikes me as funny because it was one of my mom’s sayings. She would say, “I was beside myself with worry.” That’s me now, literally. I don’t look at myself, though, because it’s just too strange.
I go into Michael’s dream. How predictable. He’s on a football field. He’s wearing his football uniform.
A referee sees me and throws a flag. “Delay of game!” he shouts.
I leave. I was going to see if I could take Michael with me to Catlin’s, but I change my mind. I go alone. Catlin is standing by her window.
“They’re coming,” she says.
PERSONAL LOG:
Anchise reported that the slaves were reading each other in the library. They were having a conversation. Couldn’t this be a good thing, though? Product that evolves because of us and can do advanced work. We could have a new class of slave. A better one. We could breed them.
