The Bar Code Prophecy

by Suzanne Weyn

  “Sorry, I can’t find your dad,” a pleasant female voice said.

  “Thanks, Tilly,” Grace said, hitting the END button. Of course she knew Tilly was just a robotic voice inserted in her phone’s Brilliant chip but they spoke so often that Tilly was a part of her life. Whoever had programmed the Brilliant Bot, as the droid voices were called, had made it incredibly lifelike.

  If her father was indeed on the tenth subfloor, the phone signal wouldn’t reach him. She’d have to use the internal GlobalHelix phone system. But before she could ask the secretary there to contact him, her father turned the corner from the bank of general employee elevators.

  “Dad, I was just trying to get hold of you,” Grace told him.

  Albert Morrow nodded and squeaked out a tight smile, but something told her he was unhappy. “Mom says you went climbing again this morning,” he remarked as he brushed some dirt from the pocket of his gray coverall. Grace barely recognized him in any other clothes, since he’d been working here for as long as she’d been alive.

  “I got all the way up the intermediate wall,” Grace replied, trying to sound as though she didn’t have a good idea where this conversation was headed. “Eric, this guy who works there, says he’s never seen anyone advance as fast. He’s training for the Olympics in ’28.”

  “That’s great, but I thought we said you were going to save all your summer money. You want to go to college, don’t you?”

  “Climbing doesn’t cost that much.”

  “Grace … come on. We’ve talked about this.”

  “I know … I know,” she admitted. Grace’s family had been hit hard by the bar code tattoo. Her father had been next in line to head the entire West Coast maintenance division until he was bar coded. Almost instantly afterward, his upward rise was reversed. She’d expected him to be angry about this, but instead he’d resigned himself to it. “Survival of the fittest,” he’d told her. “And I like being my own man. I’m not management material. Global-1 knows what it’s doing.” Rheumatoid arthritis ran in his family line and his bar code showed he had the gene for it. In the wake of the bar code tattoo scandal, the government had ordered all contents of the bar code tattoos to be revealed. But the knowledge that the lines of the bar code tattoo contained each person’s unique genetic code didn’t restore jobs or reverse any decisions made because of the tattoo.

  Not wanting to pick a fight over money with her father, Grace attempted a compromise. “How about if I go climbing less often?”

  “How about you don’t go at all?” her father countered.

  “But I love it and it’s the only fun I have. Otherwise I’m here all the time.”

  “I know — because I’m here all the time, too. Now with Mom sick, it would just really help if you would save your money.”

  “Just twice a week?” Grace pleaded.

  “Once a week,” her father said. “Look, Grace, do you want to be on the gymnastics team again this year?”

  “Of course I do!” Grace cried. She was team captain this year.

  “Well, the bill came yesterday. By the end of August they want the uniform fee and the team travel fee.”

  “Can you pay it?” Grace asked nervously.

  “I was going to ask you to pitch in half from your summer earnings,” he replied. “You’re not a little kid anymore. It’s time you take some responsibility for your own expenses.”

  Grace hung her head, letting her hair fall like a curtain. How she hated this you have to be more responsible lecture. She was hearing it more and more every day.

  Grace understood that the family was facing hard times. But she couldn’t stand the idea of not being on the gymnastics team — or of giving up rock wall climbing. Once a week would be better than not at all, she supposed.

  But it meant she’d only see Eric once a week. Right when something was starting to happen.

  “I’ll treat you to a rock wall session for your birthday,” her father added in a conciliatory tone.

  Grace smiled at him. “That would be good. A gift card for some rock climbing would be a nice birthday gift, too.”

  “We’ll see.” Grace’s father kissed her lightly on the top of her head. “Tell Mom not to count on me for dinner. I’m working a double shift.”

  “All right,” Grace said. Her father headed back toward the elevators, and Grace watched him go. When people talked about how evil everyone at Global-1 was, this was not the man they were picturing. But he was just as loyal as any scientist, any administrator.

  Working here was a glimpse of the adult world, and Grace wanted to make the most of it. Remembering her birthday, and the tattoo, she hit a button on the panel in front of her.

  “Personnel,” a voice spoke out.

  Grace leaned toward it. “Hi, this is Grace Morrow at the reception desk. I’m going to be seventeen on Sunday, and I’d like to make an appointment to get a bar code tattoo on Monday when I come back to work. Thanks.”

  As Grace waited for her appointment to be confirmed, she picked up the newspaper Terri had left behind and began reading the lead story.

  Pasadena Sun

  Washington, D.C. — July 8, 2026

  AMBROSE YOUNG TESTIFIES BEFORE SENATE. CALLS GLOBAL-1 EXECS LIARS!

  Recently retired Senator Ambrose Young, longtime head of the Senate Domestic Affairs Committee, appeared on the Senate floor yesterday to call for a second full Senate investigation of the multinational corporation known as Global-1. “The first investigation was not sufficiently thorough,” he told the Senate. “Global-1 has whitewashed the affair. Once this blows over, they will resume business as usual. Nothing short of dismantling this treacherous corporation will suffice to safeguard our liberty from these pernicious liars.”

  Senator Young called for the repeal of The Bar Code Tattoo Bill, claiming that President Waters and Global-1 had grossly misled the Senate and the public. Senator Young based his accusations on information provided to him anonymously.

  “This is just another case of Young’s continued slander against our corporation and our nation,” Global-1 spokesperson Adam Richard said in a statement. “Freedom of speech allows him to say whatever he wants to say, but nothing he says is grounded in fact.”

  Although Senator Young would not disclose his sources, Richard’s statement noted that the former senator’s son, David Young, is the driving force behind the dissident group, Decode, which has fought against the bar code tattoo since its introduction in 2025.

  David Young was a junior senator from Massachusetts but resigned his seat in protest when the bill was written into law. A prime mover in last December’s protest in Washington, David Young was among those jailed and forcibly bar coded.

  Ambrose Young has called for the impeachment of President Waters, claiming the president had full knowledge of the true intent of the Global-1 program. President Waters has categorically denied this charge, claiming that not even Global-1 itself was aware that these things were happening, putting the blame on a single department working without corporate or government authorization. Ambrose Young has called for disciplinary action against those responsible for what he calls “egregious violations of American liberties,” but so far Global-1 has refused to reveal the names involved. Lawyers working for Senator Young are preparing the legal paperwork needed to force full disclosure from Global-1. In addition, the Young family has filed a private lawsuit against the Waters administration, claiming that David Young was among those targeted by Global-1 nanobots said to induce depression and thoughts of suicide by overstimulation of the vagus nerve.

  David Young has not been seen in public for months. In his testimony, Ambrose Young claimed he didn’t know where his son was. “I miss David but I can’t blame him for going underground. He has made some powerful enemies,” Ambrose Young told the press in a conference after his Senate appearance. “His work as head of Decode is far from over, no matter what Loudon Waters and Global-1 would like us to believe.”

  The Bar Code Tattoo prog
ram was resumed in April of this year. “The bar code tattoo is still the law of the land,” President Waters told the House and Senate last week. “And citizens aged seventeen and above who do not get it will be prosecuted. Any new program has its problems at first, but the bar code’s initial difficulties have been ironed out — and we thank Senator Young and his son for their efforts in that regard. The bar code tattoo remains our best tool for safeguarding every citizen in this dangerous world we inhabit.”

  “Grace?” her mother called from the kitchen when Grace walked into the house that evening.

  “Dad’s working a double,” Grace shouted back, depositing her tote on a chair and fishing her phone from it. Her favorite way to relax before supper was to catch up on the day’s events and gossip with her best friend, Emma.

  “I know. He phoned. Also, some boy called for you.”

  “On the house phone?” Grace asked. All her friends called her cell number.

  “Yes.”

  That was strange.

  “Who was it?” Grace asked. She wanted it to be Eric. Calling her at home would be another big step.

  “I don’t remember his name.”

  “Mom!” Grace wailed, throwing her arms wide in frustration.

  Grace’s mother appeared in the doorway, seated in the wheelchair she’d been confined to for the last six months. No one could explain the sudden weakness in her legs, no matter how many doctors they consulted.

  “Was his name Eric?”

  “I’m not sure. Who’s Eric?”

  “Nobody. Did he say anything else?”

  Her mother produced a Post-It note with a number written on it. “He said to call him. Who is Eric?”

  “Just a guy I know.”

  Grace dashed up the stairs, needing the privacy of her bedroom. “Out! Out!” she shouted at her twelve-year-old sister, Kim, who was lying on the twin bed next to Grace’s, polishing her nails.

  “It’s just as much my room as yours,” Kim protested, continuing to apply the silver color.

  Sighing deeply, Grace retreated down the hall to the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the tub scrutinizing the phone number. It wasn’t a number she knew, which was good; it meant it could still be Eric. But why hadn’t he called her cell?

  Because he doesn’t know my number! she realized. He had obviously looked up her file at the indoor rock climbing center, which listed her home number. Or at least Grace hoped so.

  Quickly punching in the phone number, Grace waited only a few seconds before a youthful male voice came on the line, saying, “Speak to me, unknown caller!”

  “Eric?” She wasn’t sure why she asked, since she recognized his voice.

  “Grace!”

  “Yes, it’s me. I got a message to call you.”

  “Yeah, great! Sorry to call your house. Now I have your number.”

  There was an awkward pause but Grace didn’t care. Eric Chaca had called her!

  “So, anyway, here’s the thing,” Eric said after a moment. “A bunch of us who work here got permission to have a kind of climbing party down at the center tonight after it closes.”

  “Sounds fun,” Grace remarked, her excitement increasing.

  “Do you want to come?”

  Grace closed her eyes tight and pumped her fist as she fought not to squeal joyfully out loud. “Is it just for employees?” she asked, hoping her voice didn’t reveal that nothing on earth could stop her from going.

  “Mostly, but other people are inviting friends, and so I’m inviting you,” Eric replied. “Can you make it? We’re meeting up at ten tonight. I can come by to pick you up if you like.”

  “All right. I live at —”

  “I’ve got it,” Eric interrupted her. “It’s in your file. I’ll be there at nine-thirty.”

  “Great.”

  Grace clicked off the call and released the suppressed cry of thrilled excitement.

  Someone pounded on the bathroom door. “Hey, what are you doing in there? I have to get in,” her fifteen-year-old brother, James, demanded. Opening the door, Grace smiled into his freckled face. “What are you so happy about?” he asked.

  “I’m just naturally a happy person,” Grace replied, sliding past him.

  “It’s probably some guy,” James muttered as he entered the bathroom, shutting the door.

  Grace was happy to see that Kim had left the room. She shut the door and quickly slid her droid’s screen to FACE-TO-FACE and tapped the photo of her best friend, Emma.

  “Hologram or screen?” Tilly’s velvety auto-voice inquired.

  “Hologram,” Grace replied.

  “Eric Chaca just asked me out!” Grace said to Emma the moment her friend’s slightly too-vivid, mildly transparent image appeared, hovering just above Kim’s bed.

  “Final level, Grace!” Emma cried, her eyes shining, her short neon green curls bouncing. “He’s only the most final-level boy in school!”

  “He is, isn’t he?!” Grace agreed. “I mean, I just can’t believe he called me. Eric Chaca!”

  “I know! Eric Chaca! Tell me what he said. Tell me everything!”

  After Grace recounted everything that had happened, Emma said, “It’s nice of your parents to let you go out so late and with a guy you don’t know all that well and that they don’t know at all.”

  “Hmmm,” Grace hummed nervously.

  “You haven’t asked them yet?” Emma guessed.

  “Hmmm,” Grace repeated as her stomach clenched anxiously.

  “You are going to ask for permission, aren’t you?” Emma checked, anxiety seeping into her tone.

  Was she going to ask? Grace wasn’t sure. What if her mother said no? How could she tell Eric no, she wasn’t allowed? It would sound so juvenile. He might never call her again.

  “Grace?” Emma checked. “Tell me you’re not going to sneak out.”

  “It’s not like I’d be doing something bad.”

  “Yes, you would! You’d be sneaking out of the house in the middle of the night.” Emma’s voice was now fully alarmed.

  “But not to do anything wrong,” Grace argued.

  “I don’t know, Grace. Do you really want to be in huge trouble on your birthday?”

  “If I’m careful, I won’t be in any trouble at all,” Grace countered.

  “Then you had better be awfully careful or it’s going to be one seriously banged-out birthday.”

  Grace didn’t mention the Decode message to Emma. It just wasn’t the kind of thing they talked about, so Grace had no idea how she’d react. Rebellion wasn’t a part of their lives. They liked living within the lines, doing the things that would make their parents and their teachers happy. This was probably why Emma was so surprised that Grace was sneaking out.

  For her part, Grace was surprised, too — at how easy it was to convince herself to do it.

  “Hey,” Emma said as they were about to end the call. “Did you hear there’s a meteor heading toward Earth?”

  “I heard about it,” Grace answered. “It’s going to pass us by. They always pass us by, don’t they?”

  “That’s true,” Emma agreed. “If a meteor is going to smash into us, I guess there’s no sense worrying about whether or not you get caught going on a secret date.”

  “Yeah, but it’s not going to hit us,” Grace reminded her.

  “Then maybe you should worry,” Emma allowed.

  Grace’s luck was holding. Right after dinner, Kim left for a sleepover at her friend’s house. Then, at eight o’clock, Grace claimed to have a headache and said she was going to her room to read. By nine fifteen, her hair and makeup were the way she wanted and she had on her jeans, silver hoop earrings, best sneakers, and her new lightweight T-shirt.

  With pillows and clothing under her blankets to make it look like she was in the bed, Grace reached out her window until she was able to get hold of the branch of an oak near her bedroom. Once she had a firm grip, the rest was easy. Grace had climbed this tree all
her life.

  At a bottom branch, Grace dropped to the ground. Not even daring to breathe, she kept in the shadows as she made her way to the front of the house. The neighborhood was quiet. Every time a car came up the street, Grace pulled back farther into the darkness, afraid it might be her father returning from work.

  Maybe she shouldn’t be doing this, she considered. Her parents would be so disappointed in her if they discovered what she’d done. She should probably phone Eric and cancel. He’d have to understand.

  An old black hybrid sports car pulled in front of the house with its top down. The minute Grace saw Eric in the driver’s seat she headed for it, all her reservations forgotten. She returned his smile, thrilled that he seemed delighted to see her.

  “Hop in,” he said, pushing the passenger door open.

  Grace was relieved when they finally turned the corner away from her house. She’d made it without getting caught.

  “It’s nice of your boss to let you use the climbing center after hours,” she told Eric. She couldn’t tell whether her heart was beating from the thrill of escape or the excitement of the destination.

  “He’s a good guy. And he approves of what we’re doing,” Eric said.

  “What do you mean?” Grace asked. “What are you doing besides having a party?”

  Eric stuck his chip-sized music player into an opening in the dashboard and loud rock music instantly blared, making it impossible to talk further. When they were about five blocks from the climbing center, he switched the music off and parked. “Let’s do the rest on foot. It will look suspicious if there are a lot of cars in the parking lot.”