“I did.” 62 watched as Joan leaned over and flipped through the paperwork that the doctor had left behind. In his boldest voice he said, “I don’t think you’re supposed to do that. Those papers are for the doctors.”
Joan snorted and made a show of picking up the file and shuffling the papers. “Kid, I’m a guard. I can do whatever I want.” She scanned the pages again and cocked an eyebrow. “Well, well. Isn’t this interesting? It isn’t every day that we have a dreamer in our midst. Tell me, mole, what do you tell Adaline when you’re dreaming? Are you keeping our secrets, or are you blabbing them all to your brothers back home?”
“I – I don’t know what you mean,” 62 stammered. He shrunk into the mattress. The way Joan prowled through his folder, he decided he wanted her to know as little about him as possible.
Joan dropped the file on the desk and moved over to the bed. She balled up her fists and pressed her arms down on either side of the mattress, leaning her towering body over 62. He pulled away from her as far as he could, wishing that the mattress didn’t feel like it was pushing him closer to the hot breath rushing in and out of her nose.
“Are you ready for war?” Joan whispered. “Because we are. If you breathe a word about taking over Hanford, we’ll cut you down before you get the first soldier above ground.”
“What? I’m not starting a war. I would have told that Woman last night if she’d taken a break from trying to kill me. I don’t want to fight you. I don’t want to fight anybody!”
The door swung open. “Sorry for the delay. I had a full schedule today and had to shuffle some things around before I could come talk to you,” the doctor said. He’d come into the room sideways, arms full of clothes and paperwork. When he turned to drop the armload of items down on the edge of the bed, he jumped at the sight of the Woman pressing down on the mattress over his patient. Joan took her time straightening her body, adjusting her clothes as she stood upright.
“Joan, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” the doctor said.
“I heard there was an attack on this child last night,” she replied in an official tone. “Thought I’d come and find out if he knew who’d done it.”
62 shook his head from side to side. “I told Dr. Rain –”
“Told her what?” Joan snapped. She looked like she might lunge at 62 but seemed to remember the doctor watching her at the last minute.
“I told her I don’t know who they are,” 62 admitted.
Joan gave a satisfied grunt. “If that changes, you come see me and we’ll straighten it out.”
The doctor cleared his throat. “Well, Joan, thank you for stopping by. But if there isn’t anything else you need, perhaps you could give us some privacy?”
“Of course.” Joan gave a curt nod. She picked up 62’s file and handed the disheveled pages to the doctor. “These fell off the desk after I came in.”
“I’m sure they did,” he said with a suspicious tone. He waited for Joan to leave the room before speaking again. He shook his head and rolled his eyes, then turned his attention to 62. “Making new friends, I see?”
62 caught a glimpse of his nametag.
“Dr. Smart,” 62 read. “Hey, I remember you. I met you in quarantine.”
“So you did.” The doctor smiled. He glanced around the room to find the chair, then pulled it up to the bed. “I know you’re anxious to get going, but I’d like to have a chat with you before you do.”
62 sighed and adjusted himself to be more comfortable. He perched on the edge of the bed, his visit from Joan making him anxious. “A chat about what?”
Dr. Smart leaned back in the chair, crossing his fingers behind his head and slouching against the backrest for a long sit. “How have things been since I last saw you?”
“Fine, I guess.” 62 hoped he’d be on his way soon and glanced over at the pile of clothes. Everything seemed to be there, except one important thing. He pointed at the pile. “There aren’t any boots.”
“Sorry, my arms were full. I’ll have to go back to the lockers to get them,” Dr. Smart replied, not sounding sorry at all. “So, everything’s been fine? No complaints?”
62 let out a long sigh. He couldn’t leave the hospital without his boots. It was too cold to walk in the frozen mud in stocking feet. “You didn’t bring my boots. That’s my main complaint right now.”
A chuckle accompanied the doctor’s knowing grin. “Complaint noted. Have there been any other problems you’d like to talk about? I mean, aside from whatever’s happening with Joan.”
62 sighed. “She’s not my only problem. Some other lady beat me up. The food is terrible. I’ve been having horrible smelling, slimy poop since we started eating. And,” 62 added for good measure, “it’s cold.”
Dr. Smart unlocked his fingers and leaned forward. He arranged the papers from 62’s messy file on a clipboard he’d brought in and started jotting down notes. “Good. Now we’re getting somewhere. Let’s talk about some of these. We can start small. I agree, it’s cold out there. Did you know, it’s been so cold and wet that I haven’t had it in me to sneak into the cafeteria for a midnight snack? I wake up in the middle of the night and usually I’ll unlock the hospital kitchen to find something to eat. It helps me get back to sleep. But with the slush and mud, I haven’t been able to get out for more than a week now. I’m exhausted.”
“You eat in the middle of the night?”
Dr. Smart frowned and tilted his head. “Not recently. It’s a lot harder to get in and out of the pantry unnoticed when there’s a muddy trail showing everyone where you’ve been. If the cooks found out that I was getting into the patient’s treats, they’d be furious. A classic example of risk versus reward.”
“You steal from the hospital?” 62’s face pinched in alarm.
“Only a little bit,” Dr. Smart said in a sly tone. “Best to keep that to ourselves though, eh?”
“How can you act like a criminal? You’re supposed to be a doctor.”
Dr. Smart frowned. His eyebrows lowered and he breathed a deep hum before answering. “That’s an interesting question. I’d like to say that I’m not a criminal, but as you’ve pointed out, taking food from the hospital without asking does mean that I’ve committed theft. On the other hand, I spend most of my life taking care of people. I am a doctor. I could turn myself in for the theft, but then no one would be here to take care of my patients. The hospital would suffer.” Dr. Smart glanced up at 62. “I suppose you could tell the elders. But then, as I was punished for the theft, no one would be here to care for my patients.”
“What kind of punishment will you get for stealing?”
“It’s pretty horrible,” Dr. Smart shifted the clipboard to one side of his lap, resting his elbow on the opposite knee and laying his chin on a curled fist. “First you have to go to the elders and tell them why you stole something. They ask all kinds of questions, nosey old birds. Always curious about why a rule’s been broken. Then, after they wear you out with questions, they decide how best to punish you. There’s not really a set punishment, since everyone responds to discipline differently. Once, there was a lady who stole blankets from empty rooms in the male dorms and gave them to her friends when the heat was out during a blizzard. She didn’t get any punishment at all, even though she stole thirty blankets. Then there was another lady who stole books from the library and set them on fire in the courtyard. She was forced to volunteer for the Oosa.”
62 scrambled backward on the bed. He crossed his legs beneath himself and leaned against the pillow propped up on the headboard. “That’s not fair. Why did one person have nothing happen to them, and the other person had to go to the Oosa?”
“I think it’s perfectly fair,” Dr. Smart offered. “The first offender was breaking the law while helping others. Even though she hadn’t asked permission to take the blankets, she knew it was the right thing to do. By stealing, she was able to keep people warm in a time when they were freezing.
“The second criminal decided t
hat the knowledge our library offered shouldn’t be shared with anyone. She took books that showed the history of our world, and burned them so no one else could read them. By taking away our history, she hurt our whole community. As a result, she was punished.”
“What did the Oosa do to her?” 62’s quiet voice overflowed with concern.
Dr. Smart tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m not sure what all they did to her while she was there, but when they were done, they sent her back.”
“With a baby in her?”
“Yes.”
“But don’t the elders worry that she’ll burn books again?”
Dr. Smart shook his head. “She can’t. She died when the baby was born.”
62 sat for a moment, going over everything. His eyes squinted, his frown deepened, and his eyebrows pushed so close together that his forehead felt tight. He found a new question buried in all the information. “But if the thief died, what happened to her baby?”
“She was adopted.” Dr. Smart noticed the confusion on 62’s face. “In Adaline, babies are raised by bots. But we don’t have any here. When a baby is orphaned, it’s taken in by another adult who raises it as their own. That’s called adoption.”
“So, the baby is okay, even though her mother was a criminal?”
“Oh, yes. Although, she isn’t a baby anymore. She’s nearly a teenager now. Just a few more years and she’ll be a grownup herself.” Dr. Smart smiled. “She’s quite the Girl. She’s dedicated her life to preserving the books her mother didn’t burn.”
62’s eyes went wide. “Does she work at the library?”
Dr. Smart nodded. “An incredible story of passionate dedication, if you ask me.”
“I guess so!” 62’s nearly shouted. He eyed the stack of clothes again. “Can you get me my boots?”
Dr. Smart chuckled, “Let’s not get into too much of a hurry. We still haven’t figured out if I need to turn myself in for stealing from the hospital cafeteria.”
62 turned the problem over in his mind. “Well, you did steal. That makes you a thief. But you said the food you take helps you to sleep.”
Dr. Smart gave a single nod. “Right.”
“And when you sleep better, it helps you to take care of people.”
“Correct.”
“Well, I guess that makes you closer to the first lady, who stole blankets. Not like the second lady, who stole books.”
“My thoughts, exactly,” agreed the doctor.
“But it’s still wrong and you should ask permission before you do it again,” 62 concluded.
“I suppose you’re right.” Dr. Smart shrugged.
“Now can I have my boots?” 62 grabbed the clean shirt out of the pile at the foot of his bed. He pulled off his hospital gown and began to get dressed.
“Soon.” Dr. Smart grinned. He didn’t stop 62 from pulling on his clothes. Instead, he gave his clipboard a long, slow look. “You seem to be getting the hang of the rules around here pretty well.”
“I guess.” 62 felt a shock race across his skin as he pulled on his clean pants. They were cold from sitting unworn and made goosebumps rise up on his legs.
“When I first got here, Joan mentioned that you’d been hit by someone. Did you know that’s against the rules?”
62 paused. He gave the doctor a sideways glance. “Good. It should be against the rules. It was horrible.”
“Do you know the person who did it?”
62 grabbed a sock and pulled it on. He shook his head. “No. I don’t know many females though. They kind of look at me funny when I see them. Like they don’t approve of me.”
“What makes you say that?” Dr. Smart raised his pen, ready to write down 62’s answer.
“They know I’m from Adaline.” 62 shrugged. “Sometimes they call me a mole, and other times they don’t talk to me at all.”
“Hmmm. Yes. I know how that goes. It took me a while to make friends after I first came here.” Dr. Smart frowned in thought. “But, eventually, I met some people who didn’t mind where I came from, and then life got better. Have you made any friends here?”
62 nodded. “I have a couple. Two from when I lived in Adaline, and one I met here.”
“Oh?” Dr. Smart’s eyebrows lifted in interest.
“I met Blue when I was in T.A.S.K. We got to be friends through the maintenance hatch behind my cube. And 00 was animated with me. We didn’t know each other very well then, but we’re friends now.”
“It’s very unusual for anyone to have an opportunity to make friends with a refugee before they become a refugee themselves. Why do you think your friend Blue risked getting to know you down there?”
A tired sigh passed through 62. “I think he knew there was something odd about me, and he thought it was interesting.”
Dr. Smart tilted his head. “Like what?”
“He found out that I knew how to dream.” 62 tapped his finger on the side of his head. “Everybody seems to want to know about this. Joan brought it up when she was here before you came in. Even the lady who wanted to kill me knew about it.”
The pages of the clipboard flipped up and over, the doctor searching through previous notes. “That’s right. You told me about that the first time we met.”
“You said it wouldn’t be a problem above ground,” 62 accused. “But I guess you were wrong.”
“It wouldn’t be a problem if those who knew about it had kept the information to themselves,” the doctor said. “Have you been dreaming since you’ve been here?”
“Sure.” 62 shrugged. “But not like before. My dreams are pretty empty now.”
Dr. Smart looked up from his notes, a strange expression passing over his face. “Has anyone tried to contact you in your dreams?” 62 shook his head. The doctor pressed the question again. “Not even just quick little messages from Adaline?”
“No.” 62 was filled with loneliness. He missed 71 and 42. He didn’t want to admit to Dr. Smart how much it hurt when he tried to connect with them, only to be met with silence. “I think I’m too far away.”
“I see. Have you told anyone other than your friends that you can dream?”
62 shook his head no. “It isn’t something I’m used to talking about.”
“But this person who attacked you last night said she knew you dream. Did she say how she knows?”
“No. All she said is that I’m dangerous and shouldn’t have been let in.” 62 hugged himself. He hadn’t belonged in Adaline, and it felt more and more like he didn’t belong here either. “She said I’m going to start a war.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Dr. Smart scribbled on the pages in front of him. When finished, he put his pen in the pocket of his jacket. He looked at 62 and said in a decisive tone, “I think it’s best you not talk to anyone else about your dreams.”
“But I haven’t talked to anyone about them!” 62 exclaimed. “I don’t know how any of these people know what’s in my head.”
“There isn’t a lot of privacy here. Once someone like Joan knows,” Dr. Smart said as he shook his head and sighed, “rumors fly fast. A rumor like this one is bound to get the attention of anyone who might want to talk to Adaline.”
62 scrunched his nose in confusion. “Why would anyone want to do that? I thought everyone here wants to keep Hanford a secret.”
“Not everyone,” Dr. Smart admitted.
“So, what am I supposed to do? Just go to school and pretend that everything’s okay?”
“It’s a lot to ask.” Dr. Smart ripped a corner from the paper in his lap and folded it in half, twice. He stood up, patted 62 on the shoulder. “But it’s what I suggest. I’ll go get your boots. Then you can be on your way.” He shook 62’s hand, leaving the folded paper in his palm. Then Dr. Smart walked away, letting the door fall closed behind him.
62 looked down at the small folded paper resting in his upturned hand. It wasn’t folded well, and a slight tear started when he tried to pull it open. He slowed his fingers, being careful as he unfolded it.
The doctor’s writing was terrible and it took 62 a moment to sort out the words. When he did, he let out a surprised gasp. He balled the paper up and shoved into his pocket.
He had to talk to Mattie.
CHAPTER 23
62 TRUDGED THROUGH THE icy wind as quickly as he could. The sun was setting and the air was becoming progressively colder. The library wasn’t far now, but he shivered under his coat as the wind entered the fabric through tears in the seams. He’d need a new coat for sure. The tussle with the Woman in the snow had left this one in rags. The hospital staff had washed it for him at least, even if the clean shreds of fabric did little to keep the wind out. He pulled the collar higher around his neck and tried to pick up the pace. Maybe coming to the library just after being let out of the hospital for hypothermia hadn’t been the best idea.
He was glad to see a light on when he pulled the door open. He hustled inside to where it was warm. Following the pleasant glow of light toward the back wall of the library, he found Mattie sitting in a giant green chair. She was curled into a ball, feet tucked beneath her, face obscured by a thick book.
“Do you ever go home?” 62 asked as he took off his mask.
Mattie’s eyes peered over the edge of her book. “Wouldn’t you be stuck out in the cold if I did?”
62 grinned. “Probably.” He pulled a stool toward her and settled down on it as he waited for Mattie to finish the page she was reading. When she finally placed a bookmark between the pages and set the book on the chair beside her, 62 blurted out, “I just got out of the hospital.”
“Decided to eat more dirt, did you?”
62 rolled his eyes. “Geesh, does everyone know everything I’ve ever done?”
“No,” Mattie said with a straight face. “Just the stupid stuff.”
62 grunted. “I did get covered in dirt. But it wasn’t my fault this time. Some crazy lady hit me and pushed me into it.”
“Oh, you’ve been out annoying the other locals, have you? And here I thought I was special.” Mattie’s snarky grin faded when 62 shook his head.
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