by Ari Goelman
Sure. I’ll consider the hell out of it. When my guards walk me back to my room, take off my handcuffs and ankle cuffs, and lock the door, I’ll consider it all night long.
JOURNAL OF LAUREN C. FIELDING
Monday, October 20, 2031
Hi Dr. Corbin,
My father says you want me to come in this weekend for a checkup. It’ll be great to see you again! I think you’ll see that your treatment totally worked. Every day I feel like I understand other people a little bit better.
It’s not as fun as I thought it would be.
I don’t mean to sound ungrateful, but understanding other people is sort of terrible sometimes.
Like after English class today. I walked out of class and I happened to see Riley down the hallway talking to the new kid, Sasha. I waved at her. She smiled and waved back. Then she said something to Sasha, looked at me, and laughed.
It was between classes, so the hallway was filled with people. It was way too noisy for me to hear what Riley said. She could have said anything. Still, I’m almost positive she was saying something unkind about me. I don’t know how I know this. But even her smile was fake, with a kind of look-how-nice-I-am-smiling-at-stupid-little-Lauren feel to it.
Do normal people feel that way when they see their friends? Is this maybe a side effect of the therapy—that I might be getting too paranoid? Or is this real? How do normal people tell the difference?
Then, later, at lunch, Riley kept looking over her shoulder at Sasha, who was sitting a few tables away from us. He was hunched over his tablet computer, glasses perched on his forehead.
“He keeps looking over here, too,” I told her.
“Who?”
“Sasha,” I said. “Isn’t that who you keep checking out?”
Gabriella and some of the other girls laughed, and Riley flushed a little. “No.”
“Then who are you looking at?” I glanced over at the table where Sasha was sitting with a bunch of the non-jock guys. “Adam Dominguez?”
“I’m not looking at anyone, Lauren.”
“My mistake,” I said. “I just thought it was nice. You know, you checking him out, and him checking you out.”
“Seriously—he was checking me out?”
I nodded. “Every few seconds.” At that moment, Sasha’s eyes flickered up from his screen; he noticed me watching and waved. I waved back.
“Are you … Don’t wave at him!” It obviously took her some effort, but Riley didn’t turn her head.
“Oh. Sorry. He waved at me first.”
“Maybe he’s checking Lauren out,” Molly Singh said.
And everyone laughed. Like that was a big joke. I know I don’t look so good right now, with my crew cut and scars on my head. And I wouldn’t necessarily expect Sasha to be interested in me, even if I still had my hair and everything. But still, Dr. Corbin, it didn’t feel good. The whole table laughing at the hilarious idea of a good-looking guy checking me out.
“What’s wrong, Lauren?” Gabriella said. “Is your head hurting? It looks like you’re about to cry.”
My whole life, I’ve been an easy crier. I’ve cried at pretty much every movie I’ve ever seen, even if I’ve watched it like thirty times before. Even if it’s not a particularly sad movie. I could never hide it if I felt like crying. I never wanted to hide it. If I felt sad I cried. I never thought twice about it.
Today, though, I didn’t want to cry in front of those girls. I didn’t want them to know I cared.
And you know what’s weird? It was easy to fool them. I made my lips stop trembling and I forced myself to smile. “Just the sun in my eyes,” I lied.
I thought they would all see right through me, but not a single person said anything more about it. Not because they were being polite, either. They believed me.
I usually get a ride home with Riley, but after school today I decided I wanted some time to think. I used to wonder what it meant when people said that. Evelyn or someone would say, “I need some time to think,” and I’d wonder, “Aren’t you already thinking? Isn’t everybody always thinking?”
But now I get it. It really means you need time away from other people.
For a normal kid, walking to my house from the school would be no big deal. It’s less than a mile and our neighborhood is totally safe. You can’t even get off the highway around here if you don’t have the right permit for your car. The gates won’t open, and the police will pull you over if you linger in the exit lane for more than a few seconds without the right electronic tag.
Still, I’m not allowed to walk home by myself. (Rule #8 having been established two years ago when I nearly got run over by a car while I was crossing Old Georgetown Road. It wasn’t that I didn’t see the car—I was just sure the woman driving would stop for me. And she did … Just a little too late.) So I called Evelyn.
“Hey,” I said. “Could I walk home with you today?”
Evelyn didn’t say anything for a few seconds. Before your treatment I probably wouldn’t have made anything of the silence, but today it was pretty clear. My own sister didn’t want to walk home with me.
This didn’t make me feel any better.
“Today is kind of a bad day, Lauren,” she finally said. “Can’t you get a ride with Riley?”
“I don’t want to. Please, Ev.”
She sighed. “Okay. I’ll meet you outside the back door at three twenty.”
After my last class, Ms. Gale, my special education assistant, walked me over to the back door to drop me off with Evelyn. This is basically Ms. Gale’s job—walking me to the bathroom and to my classes, making sure no one takes advantage of me when no teacher is looking.
“Thanks, Ms. Gale,” I said once I spotted Evelyn.
“No problem. Have a nice evening, dear.” Ms. Gale quickly walked away, fishing her car keys from her purse.
“Hey,” Evelyn said. She barely glanced at me, keeping her eyes on the crowd of students walking past us. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
Evelyn shot me an astonished look. “Oh my God. You’re lying. Not very well, but still. The operation actually worked.” She hugged me. “Lauren, that’s amazing.”
“Yay,” I said, without much enthusiasm. “I thought being normal would be more fun.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Nothing really. Today I realized that Riley and Gabriella don’t really like me. And even you didn’t want to walk home with me.”
Evelyn took a deep breath and blew it out. She released me from her hug, but left one arm wrapped around my shoulders. “Welcome to the wonderful world of social awareness. Don’t take it personally. Riley and Gabriella like you fine. They just don’t love you quite as much as you thought. They’re kind of fake, but they’re like that with everyone, not just you. In fact, I think they’re probably less fake with you than with anyone else they know.”
Evelyn scanned the crowd of students passing us. “As for me, this just happens to be a bad day for you to walk home with—hey, Peter!” Evelyn spotted her friend Peter and grabbed his arm. She pulled him outside with us.
“Oh. Hey Evelyn. Hey Lauren.” Peter looked at me, squinting against the fall sunshine. “I heard you were back in school.” He touched his head where my head was scarred. “How you doing?”
“Okay,” I said. “How about you? I heard you were abducted by Dr. Newman.”
Before Peter could say anything, Evelyn quickly said, “I told you he wasn’t really abducted by Dr. Newman.”
“It’s okay. Everyone’s heard the rumors.” Peter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “No one abducted me.”
He certainly looked like he’d been abducted, or maybe trapped in a coal mine. Every bit of color had been bleached from his face. Except for beneath his eyes, where there were dark circles. He’d lost weight, too, since the last time I’d seen him before my operation. “I was visiting universities. Harvard. Yale. Columbia. It was great.”<
br />
I didn’t even think about believing him. His voice was too flat, his eyes focused far behind me.
“Lauren’s walking home with us,” Evelyn said brightly, maintaining a tight grip on Peter’s biceps, like she was afraid he was going to run away.
“You guys shouldn’t be seen with me,” Peter said. “Especially not outside the school. Claudia’s right.”
Claudia Rich is my sister’s other best friend. She and Ev and Peter have all been good friends for years, so I have no idea why she’d be telling Evelyn not to walk home with Peter.
“I can decide that for myself,” Evelyn said.
“Can she?” Peter nodded at me.
Evelyn took a deep breath before turning to me. “Lauren—do you have your headphones on you?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you mind listening to music while we walk home? And walking like half a block ahead of us? Peter and I have some private stuff to talk about. I’ll keep an eye on you, but I don’t want you listening. Okay?”
She waited until I nodded.
“Thanks,” Evelyn said. “Start walking. Remember to wait for me before you cross any of the major streets.”
“I can cross a street by myself,” I said.
“Most of the time,” Evelyn agreed. “Most of the time you can.”
I put on my headphones and started walking.
“Can you hear me?” Evelyn called after me.
I didn’t exactly intend to eavesdrop on them, Dr. Corbin. I was just a little curious about what was so secret. Plus, I was … I am … so sick of people telling me what to do.
So I left my music off and pretended I didn’t hear Evelyn. I walked through the parking lot, then up the road toward our subdivision, Evelyn and Peter trailing behind me.
At first I really couldn’t hear their conversation, even with no music. But then Peter started talking louder and louder. We were a few blocks from the high school—just passing the middle school—when I heard Peter say, almost shouting, “You think it mattered what I said? They didn’t need my denunciation. He was already screwed. But if I hadn’t given them something, I would still be in there.”
Evelyn said something I couldn’t hear.
Peter said, “I didn’t owe him anything. He ruined my stinking life. Who cares if he was right about the Emergency Act or not? Thanks to him, the Department has a file about me. One e-mail from them and I’m done. No university would take me if the Department told them not to. I’d be lucky to get a job pouring coffee.”
Evelyn said something soothing, but Peter wasn’t soothed.
“If you really believe the Department is going to let the Emergency Act expire in January, you’re dumber than Lauren.”
I turned around, forgetting I wasn’t supposed to be listening. Neither of them noticed. They had stopped walking and were facing each other on the sidewalk.
“Lauren’s not dumb.” By now Evelyn was talking pretty loudly, too. “And getting detained by the Department doesn’t make you a super-genius—it just makes you scared. All these interrogations are just the panicky last gasp of a bunch of people who know they’re about to be shut down. The people on top have already moved their money out of the country. They know what’s coming.”
Peter’s voice got quieter all of a sudden. “I was in class when Newman said all that. And look where he ended up. Even if the Department releases him tomorrow, he’ll never teach again. He’ll probably never work again. He’ll wind up dying in some debtors’ prison in the District. You want to know what’s coming? A second Emergency. A third one. No one’s going to dismantle the Emergency Act.”
“Look,” Evelyn said. “Newman got in trouble because he was talking in front of the class. It’s not against the Emergency Act for me to say things to you one-on-one.”
Peter shook his head and took a few steps back from Evelyn. “You know what’s against the Emergency Act? Whatever the Department says is against the Emergency Act.”
“I get that you’re scared,” Evelyn said. “You were detained for a few days and I can’t imagine how terrifying that must—”
“I’m not scared!” Peter said, though he obviously was scared. Terrified, even. I’m not sure how I knew this. I think it had something to do with noticing that he was blinking a lot and that his right cheek had a little twitch. “I’m just seeing things clearly for the first time in my life. The Emergency Act started the Department, but nothing is going to stop it. Anyone who…”
Peter realized that I had walked back to join them and let his voice trail off. He smiled at me. A small tight smile that looked painful. “Oh. Hey Lauren. Did you hear me say … I’m sorry I said you were dumb, Lauren.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
He raised his hand. “See you guys around.” He quickly walked back down the hill, taking another route home, I guess. Or going back to school.
When he was half a block away, I turned to Evelyn. “Does Peter’s face always get that twitch when he’s scared?”
Evelyn stared after Peter. “The cheek thing? I guess. I never really thought about it.”
“So how did you know he was scared?” I asked.
Evelyn hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just knew.” She pulled my headphones off my head. “You weren’t listening to music, were you?”
I shook my head.
“Remember my rule,” she said. “Don’t—”
“I remember your rule,” I quickly interrupted. “Don’t repeat it in public.”
“This isn’t supposed to … We’re supposed to be able to talk to each other…” She started crying and half turned away from me.
I put my arms around her. Evelyn hasn’t cried in front of me for as long as I can remember. She buried her face in my shoulder and made little snuffling noises. Then she took a tissue from her pocket and blew her nose. “Goddamn it,” she said. “Of course I believe that the Department is crucial to keeping our society safe, but I wish I could continue to be friends with Peter, despite his occasional lapse in judgment.”6
I have to tell you, Dr. Corbin, that I wish I hadn’t already told you about Evelyn’s rule for me. I want you to know that Evelyn has never said anything against the Department or any sponsoring corporation. Her rule was just trying to keep me safe.
CASE NOTES OF DR. FINLAY BRECHEL
December 6, 2031
Transcribed from interview:
I’ve been reading the journal entries you sent to Dr. Corbin, and I’m wondering about the episode where you walked home with your sister and Peter Connelly. I note that, in that journal entry, you seem to have no problem overhearing Peter’s side of the conversation, but you claim that you couldn’t hear almost anything Evelyn said.
Is that right?
Yes. Yes, it is. Why do you think it happened that you heard everything Peter said, but missed most of Evelyn’s responses?
I guess Peter was talking louder than Evelyn.
Listen. It’s fine with me if you choose to lie in our therapy sessions. I do want to ask you, though, even if you choose not to tell me: was this the first time that you falsified your journal? If so, it marks an important landmark on your journey into paranoia.
Ha. Paranoia. Every day, bad things happen to people who say the wrong thing about the Department or one of its pet corporations.
Lauren. I think this is important for you to hear: that’s not true. No one has ever been arrested for stating a negative opinion of a corporation or the Department in their private conversation. Public slander is illegal, but publicly slandering an individual or corporation was illegal long before the Emergency Act was passed.
Also, you should know that psychiatric therapy is not only private, but privileged private communication. You are totally immune from prosecution for anything you say here. It’s like talking to your lawyer or doctor. Our sessions here are totally confidential. As long as there’s no imminent risk to U.S. citizens revealed, anything you say here is between me and you.
Bu
t you’re recording our conversation, right?
(pause)
That’s just for my private records and use. I have our sessions transcribed every day and use them to inform my treatment plan.
You have them transcribed by another person?
Computer assisted, I believe, but yes, there is a secretary involved.
So they’re not totally confidential, then, are they?
Would you like me to turn the recorder off?
Don’t bother. I’m pretty sure there’s a surveillance camera in the heating duct up there anyway.
My point is this: I want you to notice—just notice—that, if I’m right, within two months of your operation, you were feeling sufficiently paranoid to start falsifying your journal entries. Entries that no one but your doctor was going to read.
Dr. Brechel, I never had to falsify a thing to protect Evelyn. She never slandered the Department or a sponsoring corporation in any way.
Okay. Just think about what I said.
You too. Think about what I said. It’s probably too late to run now, so you should seriously consider taking out some life insurance. Just in case.
JOURNAL OF LAUREN C. FIELDING
Wednesday, October 22, 2031
Dear Dr. Corbin,
How was your day? Mine was okay. Interesting. A lot of firsts today.
To begin with, I lied to Ms. Gale for the first time. I wanted to walk home by myself and, of course, Ms. Gale’s job is to make sure I don’t do things like that. But I didn’t want to get a ride with Riley and I didn’t feel like inviting myself along with Evelyn again.
It’s funny. I used to feel sorry for Evelyn for only having two friends. Now I think that that’s two more friends than I have. I still sit with Riley and Gabriella and the other popular girls at lunch. But now I realize I’m not really their friend. I’m more like … their mascot or something.
Anyway, I told Ms. Gale I was getting a ride with Riley as usual. Then I dragged my feet getting my stuff together. At 3:20—when Ms. Gale is supposed to be done with work—I was still at my locker.