Feedback Serial: Season One: Feedback Dystopia

EPISODE ONE

Impulse

Chapter One

The Longest Night

There was a sign outside the library at Coltra University that read: No Hard Heels. Help Our Students Concentrate. The library’s vast atrium had many balconies overlooking the main floor’s checkerboard of brown and white travertine slabs. Despite the inherent risks of stone flooring, the students had petitioned against the traditional rubber floors. Now, they walked with skill, quietly rolling their feet.

A freshman with dyed red hair and a shirt of the same color clutched both hands to the straps of an orange backpack. He kept his head down, darting his eyes up every few seconds, but he bumped into another student and fell over.

Sharp cracking sounds and broken pieces of something scraping against each other inside the backpack caused everyone to stop. Students who were studying or walking on the main floor focused their sights on the fallen freshman, and students on the higher floors walked to the balconies to look down on the spectacle.

He slipped his arms out of the orange straps as carefully as possible, but the shattered shards enunciated every little movement. Finally free of the pack, he stood up. As he was reaching down to retrieve it, a police officer approached him.

Young man, what’s in there? asked the officer, looking down at the backpack.

I don’t know, sir.

You don’t know what’s in your own backpack?

It’s not mine, sir. I’m carrying it for someone.

The policeman raised his eyebrows. Let’s take a look inside. He got on one knee and undid the soft buttons on the pack. He opened it and shone his flashlight into the dark space, revealing jagged curved and triangular pieces, and long stem segments. What are these?

I don’t know, said the freshman as he quickly glanced at the student he’d bumped into.

The pale, muscular boy had inch-high hair that stood straight up. Like everyone else, he was stock-still as he watched the scene.

These look like wine glasses. Why did you bring glass here? asked the officer as he got to his feet. Are you smuggling these? Is someone tracking your location? Give me your TCS.

I don’t have a slip right now.

College kid with no TCS, huh? The officer forced a hand down the boy’s pocket and pulled out a thin slip of fibrous plastic. He gripped it from the sides so that it didn’t detect his fingerprints. Article 998 dictates that refusal to deliver requested electronic devices, such as Total Connectivity Slips, to inquiring officers may be interpreted as probable cause for arrest.

The red-haired student kept his eyes down and said nothing.

Fine. If you take no liberty to speak, you probably won’t mind if I use the clamp. Article 1003-A dictates that upon refusal to answer questions, the sound clamp may be applied until the perpetrator is processed at a police station. Until then, you have forfeited the opportunity to defend yourself verbally. The officer reached into a pack on his belt and took out a metallic muzzle.

Excuse me, officer, said the bulky young man in a friendly voice. I have to ask, is that really necessary?

Stay back, young man, the officer commanded.

The kid probably just forgot his slip. Glass is a controlled substance, sure, but it’s also permitted in small personal quantities.

There’s a lot of glass in there. It’s beyond the limit, said the officer.

But is it all for him, personally?

The red-haired freshman was shaking his head.

Speak up for yourself, said the well-built student.

No. None of it’s for me.

He’s still liable for third-degree disruption, and that’s that, said the officer. Or should I arrest both of you? You are partly to blame for the noise. Anything to say to that? You got a name you want to give me while you test an officer? No?

The student crossed his arms, hiding his clenched fists. A very short student in a goth dress came up behind him. She snaked an arm around his waist, calming him down.

The glass smuggler had been inching backward during the mild altercation. The officer grabbed him by the shoulder and pushed the metal muzzle over his face, fastening it at the back of his head.

If you speak, or make any loud vocalization, the clamp will deliver a small charge to your facial muscles, said the officer. Nod your head if you understand.

The freshman shut his eyes tightly and nodded.

The officer yanked the boy’s hands behind his back and put him in handcuffs. Then he pulled out his TCS and used it to activate the clamp before dialing the station.

Area Twelve, please connect me to University Watch. Thank you. …Hello, Fred? We’ve got a glass smuggler in the library. I’m bringing him in now, but I’ll need a replacement to patrol the area. The officer accidentally stepped on the backpack and the horrific crunching caused him to jump. He put his TCS back to his ear. And someone needs to call for a soundproof box so we can get this out of here. Thanks, said the officer as he hung up. And as for the rest of you, don’t forget you’re in a public place. Keep it down, he smirked as he hauled away his prey.

With an impotent, wide-eyed glance, the freshman looked back at his defender.

Harsh, whispered the gothic student. I was in the bathroom when it started. What happened?

I bumped into him, the well-built student whispered. If I hadn’t, he’d have gotten to wherever he was going, and he’d be fine.

Oh, come on. That is so not your fault.

It’s not his, either, Winona. There’s no harm in what he was carrying.

Aside from some minor cuts, no. Let it go. Winona touched his shoulder. You can’t get upset every time something little like this happens. It’s fucked up, but it’s happening again somewhere else, right now, and it’ll keep happening.

I don’t like to let it go. It feels like another failure.

You haven’t failed.

It just bothers me. I mean, the Initiative might happen in a few months, and for him to be exiled for something like that, it’s nonsense.

No argument there. Hey, she said, lifting a finger in epiphany, you could ask Will to take care of it.

That’s a good idea. Yeah… he might be able to help.

So, where to? asked Winona.

I thought Freyara was in the inner courtyard, but she’s not. Let’s try upstairs.

The couple walked up the stairs, and they looked like complete opposites. His soft face was troubled, while his tall body was built for fighting. She was square-jawed with a welcoming visage, but her body was just under five feet tall. And his white pants and baby-blue polo—with chrome-glossed shining sleeves—contrasted with her Victorian, black velvet and lace frock.

Once they reached the first floor, he led her to a door with a small window. The sign on the door read: Honors Student Lounge. He hit the door-light button, and bright red and green lights strobed inside the dimly lit room.

A short, dark-skinned student with kinky hair and a hi-top fade opened the door, deactivating the red and green lights.

Eric, she said, come in, please.

Hey, Freyara, said Eric as Winona held the door for him. I’d like you to meet Winona of Task House. We’re dating, and she’s been asking to meet you.

Oh. Freyara shook Winona’s hand and they kissed each other once on each cheek.

Had to bend down a bit? Winona asked.

A little, Freyara said, blushing.

They went inside and sat at a table surrounded by lush sofa chairs. A single lamp in the corner lit the bookshelves that lined the walls. The shelves had clear plastic doors that were locked for security—protecting relics of a time long gone.

I’ve got an hour before I leave for Illuminate, said Freyara. What’s on your mind?

I was thinking I should go with you to the meeting, Eric said. After all, you’ve invented things to help me, and it couldn’t hurt to have a live reference.

Oh no, Eric. You didn’t come down here just to ask that, did you?

I knew you’d say no if I suggested it over the phone.

Forgive me, but I can’t see how inventing something strictly for medicine—that has nothing to do with lighting—would be relevant to a lighting company. They won’t care. Freyara stood up and paced around the table. I don’t know… I just don’t know.

Relax, said Eric. Trust me. You’re not just going there to show off a single invention. You’re showing off your skills as an inventor. I want to be a spokesperson for you.

I just wanted to meet you, Winona said, but actually, I think I could help steer the meeting in the right direction. I’m almost a licensed psychologist.

But what logical reasons could I possibly give for having you both there? Freyara quizzed.

Freyara, it’s not unheard of in business for people to bring backup to meetings. Anyway, I’m your friend.

No friends, Freyara said. She stopped pacing to squeeze the top of a sofa chair. No, I can’t just bring friends. It’s not professional.

Please, it’s no big deal, said Eric. You’re the best college student in the world, and you have a product that will allow Illuminate to dominate their market. They won’t care if we’re there. Besides, I’ve seen you present at events, and you don’t do well when you’re alone.

Really? You’ve been to some of the expos?

Yeah. Your material is always excellent, but the presentations … Eric seesawed his hand from side to side like a rocking boat. I think you just get nervous. Please, let me help, he said, looking to a frowning Winona.

"Let us help," said Winona, massaging Eric’s trapezius and tracing her nails over his skin.

Eric broke into shivers and reflexively stood up. Trust us, he said, holding out his hand.

Freyara hesitated, but she took his hand and shook it hard enough to surprise him. Okay, but we have to go now. I want to get there early.

That’s more like it, he said with a smile.

They piled into Freyara’s pink Murmur GX, a rounded little car with white trim and a white leather interior. Winona was sitting next to her in the passenger seat. Eric was in the middle of the backseat looking around, leaning between the front seats.

The inner-city TV billboard screens tripled as traffic cameras, lighting for the roadways at night, and delivery systems for miscellaneous information. But between the news and looping ads, the screens were too white, making it difficult to see where they were going.

They drove past the same TV billboard screen three times. It had two simplistic human figures embracing, and the message: Have you hugged someone today? Actions are stronger than words.

Even with their TCS GPS systems, they couldn’t find the right place. The maps were out of date, and it was practically impossible to tell which of the countless, imposing cloned skyscrapers housed Illuminate.

Oh my God! Fuck this city! Freyara shouted.

I’m sure we’ve been passing it. We must have been, said Eric.

I can’t believe this. I wanted to be early, and now, I’m twenty, no, twenty-five minutes late, Freyara said. This fucking city is just twisty streets on top of twisty streets. Goddamn road spaghetti.

There! Winona yelled. Make this next right! Fast!

Freyara braked hard and turned into a parking lot. They saw the ground sign: ILLUMINATE CO.

Unbelievable, said Freyara. Now I’m really glad I let you two come with me. I’d never have found this place otherwise.

The TV screens were blinding us. That’s Coltra for you, Eric quipped.

My dad always says I have good eyes, said Winona.

Freyara turned off the engine and they all rushed inside.

A man was standing in the air conditioned brown marble lobby. Upon seeing the three students, his eyes shot up to the high electric candle chandeliers. He tried—and failed—to hide his disdain at seeing the tardy arrivals.

I’m Michael of Episcal House. You must be Freyara, said the businessman with glazed eyes, not really looking at either of the young women but extending his hand.

I am, Freyara said, shaking his hand. I’m so sorry we’re late. The city layout just doesn’t agree with me.

We’re used to walking everywhere, Eric said with a shrug.

I’m sorry, but who are you two? Michael asked.

Friends of Freyara, said Winona. We’re here for moral support. Plus, we helped her find this place… road spaghetti and all.

Freyara blushed and glanced at Winona with raised eyebrows.

Understandable, replied Michael. Unfortunately, Freyara, you had a full room of about ten board members, but that was half an hour ago. I couldn’t convince them to wait.

Oh, no. I’m so sorry. Freyara started to turn away, but Eric grabbed her shoulders and held her in place.

Not to worry. I’d still like to see your presentation, Michael reassured her, feeling a little sorry for the young woman.

Great, thanks.

Please follow me.

Michael led them to a massive elevator. It was twenty feet high and big enough to carry twenty people.

Some of our technologies are very large, Michael said as they stepped inside.

I can see that, said Freyara.

Winona and Eric lingered at the back of the elevator.

I really hope this works, Eric whispered in her ear.

As long as you’re here, she’ll be fine.

When they got to the sixty-third floor, Michael ushered them into a meeting room. It had a wall of windows that overlooked the distant twinkling city lights and the moonlit wastelands beyond.

Friends of Freyara, please take a seat, said Michael, motioning toward the long oval table. He stood near the door, watching her.

Could you please turn off the lights? asked Freyara as she stepped to the far end of the table.

Michael pulled out his TCS and deactivated the single bulb above their heads. Everything went black, and everyone’s vision was awash with images of the previously lit room.

Freyara took a small glass sphere from her pocket. She rubbed the swirly green marble between her fingers, and everything went from black to uniformly green. The light from the ball shone right through her hand, exposing the bones and veins in her fingers, wrist, and forearm. It touched every surface in the room, making everything a bright-green algae color.

Amazing, Michael announced. So, that’s it? That little green ball?

Yes. This is a glow-ball.

I can’t believe my eyes, Michael said as he leaned forward, the sides of his suit jacket hiking up. He looked under the long table, turned around, and then he held his arm out toward her. There aren’t any shadows!

That’s because there’s no blockage. The light wraps around things, rather than just hitting them and stopping. It’s also slightly penetrating, to a limited extent, as you can see.

I’m so glad I waited for you to arrive, said Michael.

Winona and Eric looked at each other.

Eric was feeling much more comfortable. She’s fine now, he said to her.

Aren’t you going to tell him about how she helped you invent that surgery stuff? Winona asked.

I don’t think I even have to bring it up now.

So, Freyara said, I have a couple of ideas about how these were used, or rather, how they can be used.

Such as? said Michael.

Freyara tilted her chin up slightly and began reciting the words she’d repeated to herself twenty times in front of the bathroom mirror.

There are several essential—and potentially hugely profitable—applications for this technology. Emergency responders could use glow-balls to find people more easily. And the balls would be a cheap, easy way for doctors to look inside patients in real time in order to facilitate medical diagnoses. You can see what it’s doing to my hand.

Right, yes, of course. I can’t wait to show this to the Illuminate board!

You can keep this one, Freyara said, holding up the glow-ball. Demonstrate it to whomever you like. Just rub it to turn it on and squeeze it to turn it off.

How long do they last?

That’s the one challenge. Generally, they’ll emit light continuously for up to fifty hours. They absorb thermal energy, so in warm places they last much longer, but they don’t last as long in cooler temperatures. However, baking recharges them.

Michael walked over to Freyara and put his face right up to her hand. The light exposed the edges of his jawbone and his crooked bottom teeth.

I expected it to be like a little sun, but I can stare right at it and it doesn’t even hurt my eyes. It’s like looking at nothing. Michael stood back and looked at her. His face, business suit, and metallic shoulder pads were shining green—without a glare. You made this?

This particular one, yes.

No wonder you’re top of the graduating class. You’ve made the greatest invention of the past hundred years.

Glow-balls were invented five, maybe six hundred years ago, said Freyara. I just rediscovered from old documents and fragments how they work.

Right, sure. Still, with the time that’s passed, it’s almost like you invented them.

Well… Freyara paused.

Remember, business, Eric whispered, but he was too far away for her to hear him.

Please turn the lights on. There’s something else to see, she said.

Michael pointed his TCS at the ceiling and turned on the light. Nothing changed except that the bulb above them turned a slightly brighter green.

Do you see? It dominates other light. It can’t be disrupted, said Freyara.

And this thing is safe? Michael questioned her.

All I know is that they were common enough in the old world, and I suspect that they’re unlikely to be dangerous. It was an advanced time, and I’d imagine that they would’ve realized if they were causing diseases or anything.

You mean like cancer. Right?

Well, no. Glow-balls date from 2900 to 3100, and cancer had already been cured by then.

So they were used right up to the time when the bombs fell, he said.

Yes, although I hardly think these little things were related to that.

Once his initial amazement wore off, Michael started to delve into the technical details. He explained that they didn’t want to pressure her, and they wanted to do a lot of tests. It’s always ‘they’ with him, thought Freyara.

Meanwhile, Eric and Winona quietly made their way back to the elevator and went downstairs. Winona took Eric’s hand, led him outside into the warm night, and whispered something in his ear. The Doppler effect of distant cars was the only accompaniment to their shoes tapping the black asphalt.

Here? Eric asked. What about Freyara?

It’ll only be a minute, Winona said, pushing him against a shadowed wall and kneeling down. Unless it’s beneath you, of course.

Will you make it quick? he asked with an unconvincing sigh.

Winona smirked in the dark as she unbuttoned his fly. I love how good you are to your friends, she said.

I love … Eric almost said I love you, but he backtracked. "I love how good you are to me."

A few minutes later, Freyara and Michael appeared in the marble lobby. It was after 8:00 p.m.

We’ll contact you in a few months. Once you graduate, we can make you a real partner. Michael led her to the door and they walked out to the parking lot. I see great things to come. Great things indeed. Forget model student, you’re going to be a legend.

Forgive me, Michael, but legends are open to interpretation, she said.

Meaning?

I just want to have recreated something useful. Whether glow-ball technology is used for good or ill won’t be my responsibility. I don’t want to deal with the effects of putting them on the market. I’m not the militaries, the companies, or the people who will use them. And I don’t want my name or my face associated with anything. I just want to keep making them… to make them better.

The humble engineer, eh? Don’t you worry yourself about all that stuff, he said with the faintest hint of contempt. You’ll be able to focus on improving them. The business side will be entirely Illuminate’s remit. The royalties will let you do whatever you want with your life. Anyway, there’s my car. Goodnight, Freyara, and good luck on your final exams, he said as he reached out and shook her hand.

Goodnight, Michael.

Walking across the parking lot in the warm night air, Freyara felt great. He’s possessive, but not pushy, she thought. It suddenly dawned on her that the spot she’d parked in was empty.

There was a blur of black in front of her face, and she shrieked into the water-resistant black glove of a very strong man. He stabbed a needle into her neck and held her in a viselike grip until her muscles were paralyzed. It only took a few seconds. Then he put another needle in the same spot. That one put her to sleep.

Well past ten that night, Eric was sitting in a small white cube of a room. The officer across the shiny table from him was tapping his fingers in waves.

We went back inside the Illuminate lobby and hung out for a while, but there was still no sign of Freyara. So we went outside again, and that’s when we realized that her car was gone. We walked around the building and found her car in the rear parking lot, but she was nowhere to be found. Then we went back to the front of the building, but the door was locked, and we called you.

You know what’s strange about that story? the officer asked. The timing. Based on what you’ve said, I’m supposing that you left the lobby the second time about… well… let’s say five or ten minutes before you called us?

Sure.

The problem is that the building was closed before you claim you went in the second time.

Eric sat still.

Don’t worry, said the officer. Winona says you two were having sex outside the building.

Eric stared at the white wall behind the officer.

Is she lying?

No, Eric said. No, she isn’t.

So you lied?

Well, yes… Eric looked down at the shiny table and rubbed his temples. But only by omission.

We’ll be sure to keep that detail out of the media, he said.

Winona just wanted to reward me for helping Freyara…

The officer held up a hand. No explanation necessary. We have much bigger crimes to deal with. Now then, if either of you becomes a suspect, we’ll let you know. For now, you can consider yourselves injured parties.

I’d rather leave that designation to Freyara and her poor mother, said Eric.

Speaking of Freyara’s mother, she’s here. You’ll likely have some hard questions to answer, much harder than mine for sure.

Thanks for the warning, officer. You’ve been very professional. Eric shook his hand.

No problem, and thanks for not calling on Will to cover for you. You’re best friends with the second top man in the force, and you didn’t call on him just in case. That takes conviction.

So, can I go home?

Go on and see your lady, he said.

Eric left the interview room and walked down the pristine white hallways of the Coltra Police Department—a place he knew well. Winona was leaning against a wall at the intersection of hallways before the lobby.

I’m free and clear, how about you? she asked.

You told them what we did? Eric asked.

Well, yeah. It’s the truth.

I know, but… shit.

You’re not going to convince me with that logic, said Winona. Look, we weren’t negligent. Freyara’s an adult just like us. We didn’t expect her to vanish.

I’m not blaming you. But we have to take responsibility at some point.

Winona scrunched her nose. That’s it, I’m going home. You can handle Magnolia yourself.

No, wait, Eric followed her. I don’t know if I can do that.

A tall woman with the same skin tone as Freyara and pink rose tattoos on her cheeks blocked their path.

Where is she, Eric? Where’s my daughter? Magnolia asked, her voice breaching acceptable levels.

I don’t know, ma’am, said Eric, palms open. I truly wish I did.

How did you lose sight of her?

Eric looked at Winona. She sucked in her lower lip and looked away.

Well? Magnolia got closer to Eric, her breath warming his nose. Where were you?

We were in the parking lot. Eric fought to keep his voice steady. It was just very big, and someone moved her car behind the building.

What about you? Magnolia bent forward to look into Winona’s eyes, but she couldn’t return the stare. You’re hiding something, aren’t you? What do you know about this?

That’s enough, a crisp, young voice said.

Eric and Winona turned to see the right-hand man to the Chief of Police. He was a long-haired, thin fellow, and young enough to be a university senior like them. His brown uniform was adorned with the double star pin of the Coltra Deputy Chief of Police.

Madam, I acknowledge the pain you must feel right now, but these two have already been thoroughly questioned. If you want answers, I can get the officers they spoke to.

I don’t want second-hand stories! screamed Magnolia.

If you don’t calm down, I’ll be forced to send you away for the evening. We’re all trying to find Freyara, and these first forty-eight hours are crucial. Your disruptive behavior only hurts our chances of finding your daughter. We all have to stay calm.

Magnolia cradled her forehead in one hand. I need to sit down.

My office is just down there, said Will, pointing down the hallway. Please, go inside and wait for me. I’ll be right there, and then we can discuss everything that’s being done.

All right. Magnolia walked down the hall.

Will dropped a hand on Eric’s shoulder.

Thanks, Will, said Eric.

How’re you feeling?

Like I shouldn’t leave. Like I should stay and help.

For now, there’s nothing you can do. Security footage is a little sparse, but we’re scanning the travel histories of all the cars that are parked there tonight. Traffic footage might tell us more. We haven’t been able to bring Michael or any other Illuminate people in. They’re lawyering up, which tells me that they’re innocent. Businesses don’t do the whole reverse psychology thing.

Uh-huh.

You know Freyara. Are you sure there’s no chance at all that she ran away?

You’re the police, said Eric. You have access to all her files. I don’t think she’s ever had fugue states or mental meltdowns or weird hobbies. She’s skittish sometimes, but as far as I know, she has no reason to run away.

Well, I’ll try my best to do this right, for her sake, Will replied. The young man’s neck-length black hair shifted when he looked at Winona. And I’ll be sure that Magnolia doesn’t find out about… you know.

Thank you, Will. We appreciate that, said Eric.

Don’t mention it. We still set for sparring next week?

I don’t know, maybe. Let’s see how this week goes.

Of course. Will nodded to both of them and turned around before heading to his office to talk to Magnolia.

Well? Eric asked Winona. You had an opportunity to tell the whole truth to the mother of a missing young woman. Why didn’t you?

Enough.

Because it looks bad. That’s why, he said. It’s not shameful or evil, but it looks really, really bad on both of us.

Then no one else will know, said Winona.

Chapter Two

Forgotten

Eric and Winona took separate shuttles home from the police station. When Eric was halfway to his family’s apartment, he realized that he forgot to tell Will about the student who was arrested for smuggling glass. He eased his TCS out of his pocket and messaged Will.

The shuttle dropped Eric off at Rooms to Stay. The outside stairway was squeaky from age, and the stairs made squishy sounds as Eric walked up them—due to the rain trapped inside the tears of the old rubber flooring.

The apartment was at the far end of the exterior third-floor landing. When he got inside, he noticed that Janet was asleep by the TV. It was lighting up her face and tie-dyed wrap blouse.

Eric quietly took a pillow from the couch and started to slide it under his sister’s head, but he woke her.

You’re here. Finally, Janet said, looking up at her brother.

Have you been waiting for me?

Yes, she stood up and yawned, arms shooting high and far above her head. Come with me. I need to ask you something in private.

Mom’s not up, right?

Yeah, but I have to talk to you in private. I can’t risk it.

Okay, he said, relieved that Janet wasn’t asking why he was home so late.

Janet’s bedroom was a cinnamon-scented mess of holographic star wallpaper and artistic paper crafts in spring colors. The fifteen-year-old grabbed her TCS from her back pocket and activated the disco ball. The shiny orbs may’ve been music and dancing paraphernalia over a thousand years ago, but they made for great interior decorations today.

Janet dropped onto her bright yellow bed with sunflower sheets and smacked the spot next to her.

What’s on your mind? asked Eric as he sat down.

Okay, the thing is, you’re into the anti-silence stuff.

Not publicly, said Eric. I’m not a protester or anything. I want to graduate without any hiccups.

Well, you’re smart, and I need your opinion. I have a boyfriend…

Really? he interrupted her.

Don’t act so surprised. She tugged at a strand of her auburn hair.

I don’t mean to suggest that you can’t attract a young man. Anyway, who is he? Do you go to school with him?

I can’t tell you. You see, he’s a really good person, but he does something illegal.

Is he a singer?

Oh, wow, yes. How did you guess?

I’ve been wondering why you’ve been out so late every night for the past few weeks. You’ve told me that you’re out with friends, but your answers are always a bit vague. I figured it was either that or a musician.

So, it’s that obvious? Darn it.

Don’t worry. I’m the only one who pays attention. Trust me, Mom has no idea. Eric put an arm around his sister. So, you want to know if what you’re doing is worth the risk, right?

Yep. I mean, just think of the consequences. If I’m caught and convicted, I’ll be exiled when Jack does the Initiative.

Tell me, what do you like about this guy?

What does that have to do with anything?

A lot. Just tell me, what makes him worth the risk?

"Well, I’ve been seeing him for six months and there’s a… a feeling of completeness. When he’s not around, it’s like the world is missing an important piece. I never get tired of him, but I get tired of everything else, like the fashionable colors and styles."

Aside from in your room, you mean? he asked, motioning to the disco ball.

Yes, she laughed. Being with singers, and him especially, feels like the way the world should be, colorful and loud and lively all at once.

We certainly live a more flavorful life than our predecessors, with the exception of the soundscape and acceptable decibel levels. That’s for sure.

It’s like all the prepared foods and exciting colors and smells, and even how close people are to each other… everything is like all… what’s the word I’m looking for?

Compensation?

Maybe that’s it. I mean, it seems like this should be a perfect place to live, compared to the pre-war world. But does all that other stuff matter when we can’t so much as clap our hands without being arrested? It just isn’t fair.

It isn’t. I think most people secretly think that.

So most people are just cowards? Janet blew a strand of hair from in front of her face.

They’ll turn around. The consecutive Initiatives over the past five years have made things a lot worse. I suspect Jack will be in for a huge backlash if he goes through with it again this year, and that could be the catalyst for things to get better. We’re not sneaking through the wastelands anymore. As it is, people are nearly ready to tolerate singing, and louder volumes in general.

Oh, I hope you’re right. Janet snuggled against her brother. But I don’t know what to do about this guy. I keep staying up at night thinking I should just end it, before things get any harder.

I think it’s already too late for that.

Huh?

Well, it sounds to me like you love this fellow.

Do you read my diary, or what?

Janet, you say I’m smart, but I’m not, said Eric. After a brief pause, he let go of his sister and looked at her. I make dumb decisions. I’m only good at surgery and punching, but you’re naturally intelligent. If you didn’t love this guy, you would’ve ended it by now. Plus, hiding something like this for six months takes caution and planning. I trust you.

Thanks. She kissed his cheek. I think I knew what you’d say, but I still love hearing it.

Glad to help. Eric stood up and looked down at his sister. Can I meet this guy? I’d like to see his group.

No. Absolutely not. It’s too risky.

How is it too risky for me but not for you?

It’s complicated. If you really want to see them, I suppose I can show you sometime, maybe. But give me some time. Then I’ll explain everything.

Can I at least ask, what’s the singing like?

Well, it’s peaceful. It’s hard to describe it any other way. The actual group is called the Chorus, and most of their music is called folk.

I don’t know what either of those words means, but I gather that folk music is best sung in groups?

Janet smiled and stared at her paper handicrafts on the wall. Eric loved seeing her smile, especially when the disco lights danced over her.

Yeah, there are about eighty of us in the group.

Do you sing with him?

Me? Oh no, I couldn’t. I don’t think I could, anyway.

Next time you’re with him, ask him to teach you.

Not everyone is a natural singer.

Just ask him.

Janet lay flat on her bed and looked up at the spinning ball of tiny mirrors. Okay, I’ll try.

It was almost one in the morning by the time Will was finished with his research and consulting with the other officers. His throat was scratchy, and he went to get some water. On the way back to his office, he remembered Eric’s text. He decided to take the long way and go through the cells.

The thirty holding chambers were full, ten men in each. They were all sitting on stone rectangles against the walls, just wide enough to rest on without falling over. Everyone was trying to sleep, except for the new arrival, the tenth inmate. The other prisoners made space for the red-haired teenager in the new V-neck shirt, but he was standing up at the bars.

Hello, said Will. Who are you?

James of Greigas House. But I’ll be no one, soon enough, the young man replied.

You know, I’m second-in-command here. I might be able to help.

James looked up. Why would you help me?

Believe it or not, I became a police officer so I could help people.

Well, I don’t believe it. James grinned and stifled a little laugh. Anyway, police help citizens, and I won’t be a citizen for much longer… once Jack does the next cull.

That’s a very pessimistic outlook. So, what’d you do?

I was walking through the university library with glasses in my backpack and I fell. They were real, so when I bit the dust in the middle of the library everyone heard them get smashed to smithereens.

Hmm. That doesn’t sound so bad, said Will. I think the minimum punishment allowed by the law is only right in cases like this.

Well, thank you.

No need to thank me. It’s my job.

Is it?

Being decent to arrestees? Yeah, that’s part of it.

No one else has even listened to me.

What kind of glass, and why were you carrying them? Will asked.

James hesitated. Wine glasses. They can be used as musical instruments, but they’re very quiet. They probably make the only kind of music that’s not likely to be noticed. Percussion is too obvious. Anyway, I spend a lot of time in the basement of the library, and no one’s ever bothered me there, so I was heading down there to try them out. I’m no singer.

How do you use wine glasses to make music?

You fill each glass with a different amount of water, wet your finger, and then rub it around the rims to make sounds.

Where did you get them?

I had to go underground, said James.

I see. We know that you can get handblown glass in the tunnels. That’s where you went, yes?

Yeah. The boy nodded with a smirk. I bought them from an underground glassblower. But you police shouldn’t act like you know what goes on in the tunnels. We all know you don’t care about them.

All right, give me a break. I’m trying to help you.

Sorry. Anyway, I couldn’t wait to try them. I was almost at the stairs to the basement when, like a slap from God, I fell down.

Will looked away. It sounds like the glass smuggling charge can be reduced to attempted private disruption. I suggest you just confess to that. You can probably get off with a warning, and you’ll be out of here with no felony conviction and no banishment if the Initiative happens.

Really? James gripped the bars. I can just admit to attempted private disruption and I’ll get out with a misdemeanor?

Refer them to me if you have to. They’ll have to check with me.

But who are you?

Just say ‘the deputy chief recommended that I confess to a count of attempted private disruption by musical acts.’ Say it just like that, enter a confession, and you’ll be out of here by tomorrow morning.

Really? Thank you, again. I’ll do that. I hope it works.

It will.

Will left the cells and went back to the administrative section of the building. He opened the door to Chief Montgomery’s office.

Deputy. The old man’s voice floated across the thin, dark room. Do you need something?

I just wanted to check when we’ll be announcing Freyara’s disappearance. I want to be ready.

I was going to tell you tomorrow, but I may as well tell you now, said Monty as he rolled his chair back from the desk. Don’t expect a press release. Jack called and said the case has to go cold. We aren’t going to publicize what happened to Freyara… at least not until we’re told otherwise.

Will stood in the darkness and swallowed hard. Has it really come to that?

You know the hold Jack has over us. I can’t go against him, not at a time like this.

You know this likely means that Jack is involved in whatever happened to her, right? said Will. How much more are you going to let slide? Freyara is a genius student, and she may still be nearby! The longer we wait to make the announcement, the less likely it is that we’ll get her back!

Lower your voice, Will. If we go against Jack, the message that she’s missing won’t spread at all. Jack owns the news. It would be a pointless defiance. So keep your futile complaints to yourself.

Am I done for tonight?

Yes. Dismissed.

It was a typical day at Trident Mart. Mothers silently rolled soft shopping carts in and out of the clear automatic doors, and children sat in the carts looking about with unmet intrigue.

Jack’s limousine pulled up in front of the grocery store. He got out beneath the giant plastic letters that read Spearing the Competition and adjusted his concealed anti-ballistics vest. As he walked into the air conditioned market, people gasped and stared.

The soles of his shoes had more cushioning than normal shoes. This was to insulate the inevitable sound of his massive footfalls—so that no one would be alerted to his presence—although his size made him hard to miss anyway. The towering business mastermind wore a suit of rich fabric that stretched over the bulging muscles of his broad, V-shaped back.

Excuse me, Jack said, his gaunt face achieving the slightest suggestion of a smile. Do you stock seafood yet? Now that it’s been declared safe, I’d like to try some.

Yes, Grand Mogul, replied the pimply teenage checkout girl, almost dropping her TCS as she pointed toward the seafood counter. It’s behind the produce… but we can get it for you if you just tell me what you’re looking for.

No need, young lady. When something new hits the market, I like to browse myself.

Yes, sir, she said, looking down.

Mister Grand Mogul? said an older man with pink hair as he approached Jack.

Yes?

Barney of Greigas House. He held out his hand.

Greetings, Barney, said Jack, shaking the man’s hand.

I’m surprised the head of the nation does his own grocery shopping. Surprised in a good way, of course.

I like to get out and about whenever I have the time. It’s a rare treat for me to see everyday life in Flatson. What do you need?

I have a question about your current policies, if that’s all right.

A short one, sure.

When are the cities going to be more rainproof? There are spots where the hard rattling is unbearable.

For the time being, Barney, my work is focused on curtailing human noise. I’m sure you can understand, given the way things have been. However, the weather is a challenge, I’ll grant you that. I assure you that I’m looking at several good ideas to address some of our more pressing weather issues. Now, if you’ll excuse me.

As Jack walked toward the produce, he heard several soft smacks behind him. All his senses awoke. He knew it was the sound of shots from a long pistol with a suppressor. Suddenly, he felt the hard punch of a bullet against his back. He whirled around to see his bodyguards firing on the one who’d shot him.

The shooter was in a long, tan trench coat. He wasn’t wearing an anti-ballistics vest, and the shots blasted right through him. Red mist showered over a pregnant woman, who froze in place before falling back with her fists clenched under her chin. An entire shelf of bottled lemonade toppled down with her.

Jack saw two other men in tan trench coats, three aisles away from him. They reached for their long pistols as he hurtled in their direction. Jack twisted as he lunged at them—to avoid any shots—but they didn’t even have time to fire. He landed with a hand around each throat and threw the men to the floor. The backs of their heads smashed against the compressed rubber, and with two hard squeezes from Jack, they went limp. They weren’t dead, just incapacitated. Jack’s bodyguards rushed over and restrained the unconscious men.

Secure the premises and search everyone! Jack shouted. The loud command was warranted, given the situation. And due to his position, no one would question the noise violation anyway.

Two guards accompanied Jack to the checkout zone. The rest broke up into large groups to scour the store and search the people. After about ten minutes, Jack’s sergeant returned to the checkout zone and announced, All clear.

Families, teenagers, elderly people, and fat