The lift banks to the left. The same person who gasped lets out a strangled scream. I look to my right and see Maria. She doesn't look scared, but she's definitely not enjoying the ride. Her hands grip the seat tightly and her lips move over a silent prayer. The others look just as uncomfortable. I wonder if my enjoyment is strange. It has to be. No one else looks nearly as excited. Maybe they are wondering what they will see on the outside. It's the first time any of us have seen the heart of the city. I care far less about seeing the buildings than I do feeling the swoop in my stomach as we fly. It's strangely addicting.
The lift levels out. I almost feel sad. I want it to swoop and bank and take risks that make my heart pound with fear. The pilot does not agree with me. He's aware that a more sensible ride is prudent. We're in the air for twenty minutes. Another happy surge of adrenaline surrounds me as we tilt forward. The wheels hit the ground with a soft thud and the engines die down.
The door opens a minute later and the bright sunlight hits us in full force. I blink several times and then take a deep breath. Fresh air. It smells different than the forest, but it's still amazing. It's nothing like the cold stone and forced air of the facility. My mood soars immediately. I did not realize how much tension I have been holding in. I quickly amend the thought. I'm still a prisoner. I'm not free. No amount of fresh air will change my situation.
"Out, dregs," the dead-eyed man says.
We file out of the ship, and I know our location immediately. We're in the middle of the city. The park we have landed in is full of green and brown. The trees sway in the soft breeze, flowers decorate the grounds in ornamental rows, and a river runs to our left. The river is very large. The sparkling blue is enticing. I want to swim in it; I want its strong current to take me out of the city. I turn away regretfully when I hear the door on the lift close. I look back and take better stock of the park. There are other lifts in the area. People are coming and going almost constantly. Most of the lifts are smaller than ours, but I get the sense they are all piloted by well-trained people.
The green space is very large. I can't see the end of it, though there are plenty of large buildings in the far distance. There are several monuments around the green lawn. The white stone reflects the light. I realize I have been here before, in the game.
As I turn to look at Maria, I realize that everyone is facing north. It's strange. I turn with them, but I don't see anything particularly earth-shattering. The buildings on that side are the same mixture of white and silver. A lift takes off next to us. Another one is offloading people wearing hats and carrying easels. I hear them talking about painting the river.
Maria is smiling slightly. The smile is nothing like her normal playful grin. I touch her shoulder and she blinks. The smile fades and she looks at me in confusion. Before I can ask her what's wrong, the door on the front of the lift opens and I notice Ace. He jumps out casually and looks around without any real interest. He glances at me before turning away. A warning is in his eyes. Another man in white gets out on the other side and they walk off together. The man in white says something to Ace as they walk. Ace replies and the man claps Ace on the back with a hearty laugh.
One thing is clear. Ace is a pilot.
I turn away as the dead-eyed man calls us to attention. His voice is gentle. There is no command. He's aware of the people watching at us. We move instantly despite his change in tone. We all know better than to ignore him. The warning to behave is in my head. They will make an example out of me if I draw attention to myself.
We stay in a tight cluster as we follow the dead-eyed man. He takes us to a large statue as big as the entire exercise room. It's of a man. He has a strong brow and a square jaw and looks rather angry.
In contrast, a very small man is waiting on the steps in front of the statue. He's in his fifties and looks like he's spent his entire life reading. He has a squint, and his shoulders are hunched. He has the pale, sickly pallor of a man who does not see very much sunlight. The dead-eyed man nods at him once and the man comes down the stairs to join us.
"I am Mr. Humphrey," the man introduces himself, "and I will be your guide today. You have learned some about our history in your classes. Today, you will learn it in greater detail." He turns and gestures at the statue. "This is the original site of the Lincoln Memorial before the city was destroyed in 2063. Abraham Lincoln was a president, before the wars and the occupation. He was alive centuries before the more effective council system that now governs our great city was put into place. In Lincoln's stead is the man who helped rebuild the city to the shining example you see today, Councilor Peter Lee. His parents were initially immigrants, like you all. He worked hard, served his people and eventually became one of the founding members of the council. We owe him a debt of gratitude."
Everyone except for me nods. I nod just a little too late. No one notices. I begin to think something is wrong. Maria, Nathan, and Sam would never nod to such nonsense. They don't care about the man who rebuilt the city. They care about surviving the training intact. I wonder why I'm not having the same reactions.
Mr. Humphrey takes us around the park, to a pool that glitters with gold and silver. It's dazzling, but I have trouble focusing. The reactions of the others are subtle and strange. They keep responding to things in unison, their bodies turning without direction or even a hint of a command. It's like certain words are triggers for them to act and move. Maria doesn't notice the weirdness, even when I shoot her a meaningful glance.
Once we've seen the park, Mr. Humphrey takes us into the city proper. There are shops and rows of buildings Mr. Humphrey calls townhouses. The pods run over our heads almost constantly as we walk, but no one pays them any attention. I look up every time I hear the whir of a lift. I can't help my fascination. It's the only thing about the city I like.
I focus on the citizens around me as Mr. Humphrey drones on. It's better than seeing Maria nod at Mr. Humphrey's words like she actually agrees with his rhetoric. I'm surprised by what I notice about them.
The citizens are not as homogenized as I imagined them on the outside. Some people wear dresses, others suits; still others wear jeans and t-shirts. The fabric is delicate and clings to the skin. Short hair, long hair, hair that has been styled and colored wildly, dreadlocks, curls, slick hair, poufy hair - no one looks the same. There are people wearing facial jewelry, and tattoos are everywhere. The tattoos run the gauntlet of sedate flowers and symbols to large designs covering people's entire bodies. People go from looking wild to looking prim and proper on the same street. There is no set rule. The city is diverse. Their appearance is not controlled by the government like the others in camp always claimed.
Most of the people stare at us as we pass. Fear and uncertainty are on their faces. They don't trust us. They're afraid of us. I wonder if they think we will attack them. They have been taught to distrust immigrants.
The shops along the road cater to every need and lifestyle, and the people who frequent them are passionate and full of life. They talk on the street corners in loud voices meant to carry. They laugh in groups. They have conversations with people on their handhelds. They are not sullen or afraid. The government does not control every waking moment. They are not like us.
I don't understand it. The cameras are everywhere. They're on all the street corners; they record everything. The drones fly by occasionally. There are not as many drones as there are video cameras, but there are enough to make me uncomfortable. No one seems to care about being watched. The surveillance does not make them afraid or mad about their lack of privacy. They speak of the government openly. They talk about policies they don't agree with and the latest gossip from something they call The Hill. They argue. They live. They have all the appearance of freedom.
Does the government see the immigrants differently because we have not grown up in the city? Do they trust the people will never take their discussions too far? Do they think we are a threat to the people's way of thinking? Why control us and not them? Is
something else going on? Why am I suddenly jealous of these people who seem to live such open, carefree lives?
I don't think anyone will explain the difference, and Mr. Humphrey is not the man to ask. The question is dangerous and heretical. I also feel like no one else is thinking it. Maria, Nathan and Sam look around with wide eyes and curious stares. They're impressed with everything they see. They think nothing of the strangeness of our oppression and perceived freedom of the citizens. Something is preventing the emotion.
The questions in my mind grow more complicated as I begin to notice the people with armbands in the crowd. They're hard to notice around the citizens. It's like they're going out of their way to blend in. They wear clothes of all kinds and styles, but the armbands are the same. They list a long serial number unique to the person in small letters. The strangest thing to me is the people themselves. They are pleasant, friendly and polite to a fault. There's not a grumpy expression to spare.
I run into a man with an armband on accident as I take in the buildings and people. He apologizes to me three times, a courteous smile on his face, before he continues walking. It's only then that I realize the immigrants do not stand on the corners talking about the government. They're all busy. They all have somewhere to be. Idleness is not tolerated.
Mr. Humphrey can't walk us around the entire city during our two hours of freedom. Instead, he takes us in a large circle around the park, lecturing the entire time about the history and how great the city is. The people in my group nods, Mr. Humphrey drones, and the guards watch us carefully for signs of disobedience.
At the opposite side of the large park is a stone building. It is the largest building in the area. It has a domed roof and windows that sparkle and reflect in the sunlight. Mr. Humphrey tells us that the windows aren't just for show. They collect the sun's energy and help power the building. He also tells us about the wind and sun farms on the opposite side of the city. They keep everything running in the city, including the pods. He also tells us the domed building is where the leaders of the city come together to make decisions. He calls it the Assembly.
People wearing red jackets stand around the building. They seem ornamental more than anything. It's a position of tradition rather than need. There are protestors in front of the building but they're peaceful. They chant about the unfair distribution of energy to the richer sections of town and the living conditions of the immigrants. The immigrants stay as far away from them as possible. Not a single immigrant has joined their group to decry the government's actions.
I stare at the protestors, marveling at their bravery. How can they get away with such words right in front of the Assembly? I don't have long to marvel. I hurry to join the others, who have already moved on to the next building around The Hill, which is what the people call the collection of buildings that house the Assembly and various ministries.
I'm walking down a tree-lined street when I notice someone I thought I would never see again. I look to my right as I take in the shops and catch a glimpse of a face. I look away before my brain realizes what the face means to me. I look again. My heart starts beating wildly in my chest.
There's no doubt. I know the person as well as I know myself. It's Riley.
She's standing on the corner with a group of people our age. They're laughing and carrying on in loud voices. They want everyone in the vicinity to notice them. They don't seem to have a care in the world. Riley's expression is full of joy. She's finally at peace. She has gotten her wish at last. Anger surrounds my heart. The cost of her joy is too high.
I stop walking and stare at her in shock. My blood is boiling, but my mind is warning me against making a scene. It'll get me killed. Ace's words are in my head. I have to survive, for Max. But how can I ignore the emotion I've found? How do I look into the face of someone who betrayed her family and got them, and a bunch of other people, murdered? She helped ruin my life. Her actions changed my future forever. My group turns a corner. I know I must catch up to them soon or risk punishment. I'm still frozen in place. My feet won't obey my mind.
A hand grabs my arm at the same moment Riley feels my stare on her face. Her eyes widen and she makes a quick excuse to her friends. I look up and into Ace's eyes in confusion. He's the reason for the hand on my arm. I hadn't noticed him in the street. Where did he come from? He follows my stare and sees Riley as well. His eyes narrow dangerously.
Riley crosses the distance and throws her arms around me without hesitation. She doesn't see me as anything but her friend. I don't hug her back. I can't. My chest is burning white-hot with the need to make her hurt the way I hurt. She's the reason the camp is gone. She's the reason I am in prison. She feels my anger and her hands drop away. Ace is still holding me. I don't know if he's holding me to prevent me from attacking or because he doesn't like the fact that I'm not with the group. I can't focus on him. Riley has my complete attention.
Riley has spent a lifetime reading my expressions. She knows my emotion in a glance. Her expression becomes frightened as she takes in my anger and need for revenge. She's seen the violence before. She, more than anyone else, knows what I'm capable of. I can't hide the truth from her. I never thought I would have to.
"Bree?" she questions hesitantly.
Find your words. Do it. I look down and realize she's not wearing an armband. She's a citizen. Her reward for turning in the camp is citizenship. It increases my anger.
"How are you, Riley?" Ace asks, drawing her attention to him.
I'm surprised that he knows her. Riley looks at Ace and she blushes slightly. She thinks him handsome. Her eyes return to me and her blush grows. She can't understand my anger, but she wonders if it has something to do with Ace.
"I'm fine," Riley says, her eyes still on mine. "How are you?"
"Good," Ace replies. "Tell Gib and his father that my parents want to have them over for dinner this week. My mother told me to say that she won't take no for an answer."
"I will," Riley says.
Ace starts to pull me away from her. I have to speak before I lose my chance. I can't stand to see her so happy when she has caused so much pain in so many people's lives.
"You killed them," I say quietly. "You killed them all. And for what? To see the city? Was it worth it?"
"What are you talking about?" Riley asks stiffly.
"Stop," Ace hisses in my ear.
A thap-thap-thap is above me. The drones are still flying overhead. I don't know if any of them are focused on us. I don't know who on the street works for the government. I ignore his warning.
"The camp. Everyone is dead. And it's your fault."
Ace pulls me away before I can say anything else. My thoughts are incoherent and fiercely angry. I didn't think I blamed Riley so much. Seeing her has awoken the passion in my chest. The camp would still be hidden and Max and I still together if she had not allowed Gib out of the shield. She is as much to blame as Angela. She has her grandmother's inability to make logical decisions.
Ace keeps his hand on my arm all the way down the street. He turns the corner and pushes me against a building. We're in an alcove that hides us from view. Ace knows the streets well, and he knows where the video cameras are placed. I don't hear any more drones nearby. He puts his arm out so that I can't move away from him and looks at me seriously.
"What was that?" he asks.
I'm trembling with rage. I want to go back to Riley. I want to make her feel the pain I have in my heart. My hands are clenched with rage. "That's Riley," I say.
"I know her name. She's Gib's new pet. She lives with his dad now. I've gone to parties with her and Gib. You can't trust her...You shouldn't have even spoken to her."
"She's a citizen," I say.
"Not everyone goes through the facility," he says. "But those who do need to learn their place. You don't talk to citizens like that."
"I wasn't talking to a citizen," I say. "I was talking to the girl who helped destroy my camp...my home...my life. I was talking to someone who w
as supposed to be my best friend."
Ace's eyes widen and he looks over his shoulder. His emotions change with my admission. He understands my reasoning. He knows anyone would have trouble letting something like that go. I think he feels sympathy for me. I don't want his sympathy. He has just admitted to being friends with Gib. He's the enemy. He is no better than Gib.
I duck under his arm and walk away from him. He does not let me walk alone. He catches up to me and matches my stride easily. He doesn't grab me again. I don't know where the others have gone. I wonder if I'll be in a lot of trouble for my disappearance. I actually have to worry about the repercussions. Riley and Ace do not.
"You've put her in danger," Ace tells me after a moment of silence. "You should have kept walking."
"I don't care," I say angrily.
"You do," he replies calmly.
I hate that he's right. I wish I could hate her more so that I could care less about what happens to her. I don't want my actions to hurt her. I can't hate her that much.
"I didn't make the connection," he says. "Gib must have used his father's pull to get her in. Once you're in, it's easy to act like you've always been here. People don't question it."
"She certainly looks like she belongs," I say sourly.
He doesn't reply. We walk in silence for a minute. The thought occurs to me that the walk is almost normal. There's no one telling me what to do or what monument to focus on. The silence is bliss. I hate that he's the cause of the relaxed emotion.
"What do you think of the city?" he asks finally.
The question has meaning. Is it another test?
I shrug once. I can't tell him what I think. He's one of them. He doesn't like the truth. He doesn't want anyone pointing out the flaws of his great city. It'll get me in trouble.
"No one can hear you," he says. "The cameras watch, but they don't record what we say."
I'm surprised he has leapt to that conclusion. He doesn't think I have a reason to be afraid of him.
"You can hear," I tell him.
"Ah," he replies. He shoots me a small grin full of humor. "I promise not to tell."
He knows how to keep a secret. I have thought as much from day one. I don't know why I trust him to keep mine, but the words come tumbling out of my mouth before I can stop them.
"I didn't think people would seem so free. They aren't as oppressed as people at camp said they were. But if feels like a lie, you know? They're watched and studied all the time. They can't ever be truly free of the scrutiny. Something has to keep them in the city; something keeps them from wanting to go over the wall. It doesn't make any sense that people would be so happy to be watched all the time."
"It's a subtle oppression," Ace says very quietly. "The government believes the best way to control the population is to give them the illusion of freedom. They make them think they're free and control them by telling them they watch them for their own protection. The people don't rebel because they think they have it good. And the officials keep them in the city with fear. They tell them the wall protects them from rebels, disease, and famine. They aren't entirely wrong."
"Can anyone leave?" I ask.
"Of course," Ace says. "Except for immigrants and criminals. Getting back in is harder, though...The process is very long. Not many people want to leave, though. The city has a lot of good to it. People know what's on the outside. They know not to take all this for granted."
I look around at the tree-lined street. A mother carries her baby from one shop to the next. A man sits reading his handheld at a cafe. A couple holds hands and eyes each other playfully as they talk. People are normal, open and have all the appearance of freedom. They don't have to think about the government or surviving from one day to the next. They just have to live. I know he's right. There's good in the city. Not everything can be bad in such a place. It's as impossible as everything being wholly good.
"But the immigrants..." I say.
"That's another story," Ace says sadly. "The immigrants are proof of the darkness, proof of what's wrong. The city is struggling to maintain its peacefulness. People disappear from the city without any explanation. Dissenters are killed if their words become actions. The rebels are getting closer to the wall. The RFA is losing ground. It's hard to keep up with the rebels in the woods. And then there's the fact that we're also struggling to maintain the workforce for our population. The city is filling up at an alarming rate. Immigrants are necessary to keep food, power, and the government working. They are the beating heart of the city, but the government fears letting the rebels inside the walls by picking up the wrong immigrant. They fear being overthrown. They spend all their time protecting their power."
"So the only reason they don't keep the people in check with guns and threats like they do us is...?" I ask.
"Because people who are being held at gunpoint either surrender to their fate or decide to fight back," Ace says. "The government does not want a fight. They like order. They like peace. They like for people to obey in a more subtler way."
The image of the government's crest flashes in front of my eyes. Obey. I think about the reactions of the others to Mr. Humphrey and the city and Ace's warning that the game is training for something else. All of the simulations have been of the city. The words I've noticed over the weeks in the game flash into my head. They're commands that Maria, Nathan, Sam, and the others have been following all day. They're programming us. They're conditioning us to act a certain way. It's how they trust us to exist in the city. It suddenly makes sense.
"Brainwashing," I blurt.
Ace's expression hardens. He grabs my arm again and forces me to stop walking. His fingers are like iron. I'm certain there will be bruising. "What did you say?"
"That's what they're doing to us. That's what the game is. They're brainwashing us. That's how they trust us to serve in the government and in the police force...That's why you bother training us at all. You want us to know things so we can serve the city, but you also want to control our impulse to rebel. That's why every single immigrant in this town looks so happy. They're forced into it. Subliminal messages via visual stimulation, conditioning and brainwashing. I read about it."
"Bree..."
There it is again. My name. It sounds like heaven. It shouldn't sound so good coming from an enemy. He stares at me for a long time. He finally looks over his shoulder. He's checking to see if anyone is staring at us. I look with him and see a large white house behind us. Someone important must live there. The large gate and guards around it tells me as much. Despite the heavy guard, no one is watching us. No one cares about us. We are not a threat.
"You're far too smart for your own good," he adds darkly.
Chapter 18
Controllers (Book 1) Page 18
