by Nick Pirog
I could feel Berlin’s gaze burning a hole in my shoulder. I moved my gaze from the window, down to her freckled nose. She stared up at me. She didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. I could tell she would give anything to be moving into one of those tiny blue homes come tomorrow. Give anything to never see her uncle again.
I palmed her head with my hand, something I always found myself doing to little kids, and said, “I’ll talk to Dr. Raleigh. See if you can move in with me.”
She stretched her face out as long as it could possibly stretch and said, “I can live with you?”
I nodded.
“Promise?”
“I promise.”
She smiled and said, “Kay.”
Dr. Raleigh’s voice came over the intercom, “You’ll notice the speed limits here are much lower than you remember. The number one reason people come to Two is because of a car accident, so road and car safety are extremely important here.”
I didn’t give much thought to what he was saying. I was a tad preoccupied with the fact I had just promised this little girl she could come live with me. What was I thinking? What if I couldn’t fulfill my promise? I didn’t know the rules of this place. I had little hope they would let a seven-year-old girl move in with a stranger—not to mention a male stranger—one she’d known less than a week. And even scarier, what if they said it was okay. Now, I wouldn’t say I was the most selfish person in the world, but I’d been looking out for numero uno for the past fifteen years. Narcissism came with the territory. How was I expected to take care of another person when I could barely take care of myself? Would I have to cook for her? Would I have to take her to school everyday? Read her a story at night? What if she got sick?
These thoughts kept going through my head and I didn’t even notice we’d stopped moving.
Dr. Raleigh said, “First stop. Off the bus everybody.”
I shook my head and looked out the window. We were parked in the fire lane of a skyscraper. I craned my neck, gazing upward as far as the confines of the window would allow.
“Come on.”
I turned around. Berlin was standing in the aisle with her hand held out. I took it.
We exited the bus and joined the group huddled in a small circle. While we waited for Dr. Raleigh—he was speaking on his cell phone—I surveyed my surroundings. Across the street from the skyscraper was a small café called Espresso’s—over the course of the day I would see twelve more Espresso’s, they were the Starbucks of Two—a dry cleaners, two banks, and another skyscraper. People filled the sidewalks, coming and going.
As people walked past our group, you could see they knew. Knew we were Arrivals. Fresh meat. Two young kids, with hats backward, skateboarded past us and yelled, “Zombies.”
Punks.
I felt a squeeze on my hand. Berlin jutted her chin upwards. She was staring at a streetlamp ten feet to our right. Halfway up the pole of the lamp was a wire elliptical cage. Within the cage, jutting outwards from the lamp like petals of a flower, were six compact cameras. Three hundred and sixty degrees of constant monitoring. On closer inspection, I noticed these “flowers” were everywhere. On every street lamp, every stoplight, every entrance to every building. I noticed even the bus had a cage on the front, the back, and one directly on the side.
Hello, Big Brother.
I knew there was surveillance similar to this in London and other cities overseas, but it was unsettling to see it firsthand. To know every movement I made was being recorded. To know I was being watched.
Dr. Raleigh stepped off the bus and said, “Sorry about that. Follow me.”
He made his way to the revolving door and said, “You have to go one at a time.” He ushered the first person over, one of the white guys, and said, “Slide your card there, then step through.”
The white guy asked, “Do you have to do this every time you go in a building.”
“Sure do.”
The man swiped his card, a light overhead blinked blue, and he stepped into the carousel. This was repeated seven more times until the only people left where Dr. Raleigh, Berlin, and myself.
I decided now was as good a time as ever and turned to Dr. Raleigh. I said, “So, I was curious if instead of going to live with her uncle, if Berlin could stay with me?”
Berlin’s eyes opened wide. She stared at Dr. Raleigh. Silently pleading with him.
He shook his head. “I can’t allow that. It’s against the rules.”
Berlin’s eyes fell to the ground.
Dr. Raleigh said, “If she doesn’t want to stay with her uncle she can go live in foster care, but we like that to be a last resort.”
Berlin released my hand and said, “Thanks anyways.” She swiped her card and entered the building.
Dr. Raleigh nodded at me and said, "You're up."
⠔
We rode the elevator to the top of the skyscraper and found our way to the observation deck. We were on the top floor of the tallest building in downtown Denver and there was a panoramic view of the entire state. The beautiful mountains to the west, plains to the far east, the rapid movement of the city below. And I understood why we were here, why Dr. Raleigh had taken us to this spot. The ten of us standing near the guardrails, peering out on the expansive city below, at its epicenter, were now an integral part of a functioning society.
We had been integrated.
