by Mark Tufo
Shelley had no intention of finding her assigned seat and attending the morning sermon. She was there to find Charlotte, to see if her friends really could offer a better alternative to a life within the Mart Segregate. She only brought a single book bag with her, knowing she would stand out at church if she carried her enormous bags of clothes and notebooks with her through the lobby. Deep down, however, she left her other bags behind because she hoped her father might return before she had the chance to leave for good. She wanted to get Kurt's death off her chest. Perhaps she even wanted him to keep her from going through with her plan, to keep her from making such a grave mistake.
Running away was a serious matter. Part of her knew she was walking a thin line even by considering working outside both of the Segregates, and a nervous feeling in her gut told her she was too young to be leaving the safety of her childhood home. At the same time, she felt compelled to take a leap into the unknown, to be independent, to make her own rules, and to know real justice. Perhaps she was just looking for an excuse to escape the hell that had become her life. Either way, something needed to change.
Shelley entered the halls and slowly moved toward her old Sunday class building. She had a couple of hours to kill, so she took her time getting there. When she reached the appropriate building, she crouched down against the wall and wrapped her jacket tightly around her, hoping to protect the core of her body from the cool air blowing through the halls. The news associates wouldn't be out for a while, and not even a security associate stood outside the church's walls, the cold having driven everyone into the sermon room. All was silent beyond the rushes of cold air rolling through the halls and Shelley's shaky breaths.
She wondered how safe she was, at least a quarter of a mile away from the nearest security associate. If she had so easily registered for the morning and left, how many other people had done the same? The trick seemed simple enough to pull off, but she also just could have gotten lucky. Although she hadn't seen any security personnel guarding the entrance when she left, there had to be at least a few on the clock, watching the exits for potential deserters. Corporate seemed hell-bent on perfect attendance, and by the looks of the filled arena every Sunday, it was usually close.
Shelley looked down the hall in both directions, satisfying a sudden pang of apprehension that required she verify, without a doubt, that she was still alone. She wasn't sure why she was suddenly so anxious, and then she reminded herself that she had many life changes in store for her but still little idea of where she would be going. At least now she had some say in the direction she would be taking, whatever that would be, but when it all came down to it, her life was still just as uncertain as ever.
"Hey!" someone whispered.
She turned with a gasp, but saw no one. Her chest went uncomfortably tight as she listened vigilantly over the cold, unrelenting wind outside. She checked all of the nearby doors, surprised to find them unlocked. She slipped into her old classroom, relief hitting her as the door closed behind her and the room's central heating warmed her body.
She moved to the dry-erase board and read the lesson for the day. Not impressed, she wiped it clean and decided that a replacement lesson was in order. She found a permanent marker, tested it to make sure it was in good working order, and then proceeded to cover every inch of the white board with a dark, cryptic poem she had previously perfected in her head. A close reading of the poem would reveal many depressing truths to humankind and society, offering its readers a much more realistic approach to their day:
* * *
Compassion drains from the masses
like blood from a pierced heart;
a dark shroud blankets over them
like black wool over their eyes.
* * *
The beast's tale shines as truth
and the serpent eats the worm;
hellfire crashes down as snow
and they dance amidst the ashes.
Where does the truth lie?
* * *
They come to worship death
as the demon slowly sucks them dry;
a choir of sirens takes the flock
as they sing, "holy, holy, holy."
* * *
Black hearts wrapped in white silk
that stain everything they touch;
they merge into a gluttonous monster
that slowly devours the world.
Where does the truth lie?
Where does the truth lie?
* * *
She wrote slowly and carefully, so that every word was straight and legible. She couldn't stand it when people wrote on a white board with that accidental slant to the top or to the bottom, failing miserably at keeping their words level with the frame. She would not be able to erase any potential mistakes, so she was determined that the finished piece come out as nothing short of pure art, both visually and in content. She kept her lines completely level, standing back every few seconds to make sure she had each stanza perfect. The marker she used was new, and it left behind lines and curves of flawless jet-black ink. She stood back and assessed her finished work. She smiled at the brilliance of her words, her perfect penmanship making them stand out on the board like a cleanly applied layer of paint to a newly whitewashed canvas.
Giddy, she decided she had time to publish some of her other work in the adjacent rooms. She carried the permanent marker with her, deciding already that she was going to stuff it in her bag when she was done to keep it as an honored trophy. It was a symbol of her freedom, her strike against conformity and oppression. Today, these classes would have a much-needed lesson in grim reality. Shelley felt that it was a subject all too often overlooked amid all of the Bible quotes and news broadcasts. She felt the people deserved more variety in their lives. What better way to give it to them than with a set of gritty, plainspoken slice-of-real-life masterpieces honoring the nearly forgotten style of her favorite poets?
When the sermon let out, Shelley was back in the hall, contemplating going to one more classroom. She heard the sudden commotion of garbled voices and quick footsteps as the church doors opened and the people poured out into the distant halls. She ducked just to the inside of her building to wait for Charlotte, knowing that the crowds of students and class associates would be joining her soon enough.
A few people began to file in, some of them disappearing down the hall and in classrooms while others hurried up the stairs. No one took notice of Shelley, assuming she had just crossed the halls with the rest of them. She knew she needed to get out of there before anyone important saw what she had done, and she contemplated how much longer she would be able to wait before having to leave without seeing Charlotte. She was running out of time, and now wondered if perhaps this really wasn't the best time for her to be debuting her work to the masses.
"What the. . . ?" Shelley could hear a class associate exclaim upon entering one of the nearby rooms.
Charlotte entered the building, and Shelley yanked her aside. "We have to go!"
She hurried out and Charlotte raced after her. The two girls ran until neither could breathe, and Shelley made sure no one was watching them as she ducked down another hall to stop and catch her breath.
"What's going on?" Charlotte asked, her face tight with suspense.
"I changed the curriculum for the day," Shelley said with a wry smile. She giggled, thinking about how her poems were likely being received so far. Were the class associates already attempting to clean them off, their faces going red and their bodies beginning to sweat when the words refused to erase? Perhaps a handful of people read her work with great interest, glad to have something fresh and new to ponder? Maybe now she was more to her peers than simply the girl who was reclassified into the Mart Segregate.
Charlotte stared back, completely lost.
"I am now a published poet!" Shelley elaborated with a proud smile. "On the whiteboards of building C!"
"You did not!" Charlotte challenged with a surprised grin.
&nb
sp; Shelley nodded. "All of my best work, now immortalized in permanent marker."
Charlotte squealed, unable to contain herself. "Please tell me you didn't sign them!"
Shelley shrugged, her smile bright with confidence. "Every one of them!"
"We've got to get out of here!" Charlotte giggled, her heart racing.
Shelley looked around, her excitement waning to a returned sense of anxiety and confinement. "Any ideas?"
"Maybe we should think on our way to the garage," Charlotte said, spotting a security associate moving across an adjacent hallway.
The girls hurried toward the shuttle garage, but realized that a handful of security associates had been called out of class to guard the large area. They ducked behind the bend in the hallway. If anyone spotted them, both of them would probably be arrested. Shelley had committed at least four counts of Felony Corporate Crime: one count for presenting original literary material; another count for defacing church property; a third for blasphemy; and another for slandering Corporate. Shelley wondered why Charlotte seemed more excited than upset over being an accessory to such serious crimes, but she appreciated having a friend beside her while she scrambled to come up with a get-away plan.
The girls backtracked, turning down the next nearest side hall, finding that security associates were suddenly everywhere. As the crowds thinned from the halls and shuffled into the classrooms, their chances of being spotted grew. If they didn't get off church property soon, they would have no chance of escape.
Charlotte grabbed Shelley as they neared a crossroad in the hall. "There's a garbage chute at the end of the hall on the right."
Shelley turned down the hall, feeling uncertain. "Where's it lead?"
"Out of here, if you're lucky," Charlotte said with a shrug.
"You don't know?"
"I was class trash monitor back in the second grade. All I know is that's where all of the nearby classes dump their trash cans," Charlotte said. She ran ahead to the trash chute. "I always wanted to know where they led." She opened the large door to the chute, which slid down as it came open, much like a mailbox security door.
"You first," Shelley insisted.
Charlotte shook her head, holding the door open for Shelley. "You're the one who's in trouble, here! Better hurry up before someone sees you!"
Shelley looked down the long, dark chute. "What if I get stuck somewhere?"
"I'll be right behind you." Charlotte pushed Shelley toward the chute, and then coerced her into it headfirst. She closed the door, sending Shelley tumbling down, screaming.
Charlotte opened the door, unable to see Shelley. "Hello?" she called.
There was no answer.
Having a last-second change of heart, Charlotte decided not to follow. "Hello?" she called again, a twinge of guilt moving through her. She spun around as a security associate came up behind her.
"Why aren't you in class?" the associate asked.
"Oh." Charlotte let go of the door, allowing it to snap shut. "I just had some trash I needed to toss."
"I need to see your I.D.," the associate said, holding out his hand.
Charlotte dug into her bag and found her identification card, and then handed it over to the security associate with an innocent smile.
The associate looked it over, decided that Charlotte was not the person he was searching for, and then handed the card back to her with a disappointed huff. "Get to class," he said.
"Yes, sir," Charlotte said, hurrying past the man. She began toward her room, curious to see what mayhem had arisen as the result of Shelley's prank.
Chapter 111
VIRGINIA WAITED all morning for Ray to arrive. It was only by luck that she'd found the hideout, after having wandered the district all day, completely lost. As she drifted through the different areas, looking for a shuttle line she recognized, she was surprised to see how differently society treated her while she wore her Corporate disguise. How strange that the coat she wore could offer her so much respect, and how completely opposite her treatment would surely be if she were to remove her sunglasses and just one person got a good glimpse of her eyes. Men opened doors for her; managers offered her their shuttle seats. She wondered how many laws she broke by playing the part and accepting their kind gestures, but then decided that she didn't really care. After everything she had gone through, she deserved a bit of pampering.
When she finally found her way, moving through the piles of snow left by yesterday's heavy storm, she became even more grateful for the expensive clothing. She pushed her way through the slushy trails in the field, the heavy boots protecting her feet from the cold. She kept her hands in the coat's deep pockets, the thick pelts guarding her from the frozen air.
Ray's people ambushed her when she reached the cave, intent on mugging and killing her. Several men rushed her, and it wasn't until they dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the main room and saw her eyes that they realized she wasn't just a lost Corporate. Virginia brushed herself off and took some time to calm down, only to find that Ray had been called to another location for the weekend. Isaac offered her a spare bed, but Virginia insisted upon spending the night in one of the office chairs, waiting where she was until Ray returned in the morning.
She wore Mrs. Conrad's expensive coat and accessories throughout the night, despite the well-heated room, afraid that it might disappear forever if she were to take it off. She woke in a heavy sweat, but still she refused to give up even the boots or hat, determined that she would have the means to brave the cold again if need be.
The morning slowly moved into afternoon, and Virginia slipped outside to check on the weather. The snow was melting quickly, although the temperature had risen only slightly since yesterday. Ray would be back any time, now, according to the men guarding the place, although they had been insisting upon his arrival for hours. Virginia felt like she was wasting time just sitting there, waiting, while Corporate actively planned their demise.
Ray finally arrived in the late afternoon, accompanied by several other people Virginia did not recognize.
Virginia hurried up to Ray and followed him into the main cave. "I need to talk to you."
Ray seemed surprised to see Virginia, and even more surprised at her attire. "Virginia, right?"
Virginia nodded. "I really need to talk to you."
Ray sat down at his desk, logging onto his computer. He turned to one of his men. "I want a full report every hour."
The man nodded, and then he and the others disappeared down a rocky hall.
Ray took a deep breath and turned to Virginia. "I'm sorry, my dear, but aren't you supposed to be at the Conrads' estate?"
"There was an incident," Virginia said, not wanting to rehash all of the horrible details. "I found some interesting information on their computer, though—"
"We already received the information from one of my other men," Ray said gruffly, but then smiled and patted her on the shoulder. "But good job. At least I know whose side you're on."
Virginia frowned, taken aback. "What do you mean by that?"
Ray gave his most sincere face, and he answered directly and without hesitation. "It would only be natural for you to have some enduring loyalties to your old life. I'm actually quite impressed with your development. Perhaps your brain actually did catch up with your eyes."
Virginia wiped the sweat from the side of her face and neck, no longer able to handle the heavy layers of fur. She took off the hat and unbuttoned her coat. With another thought, she kicked off the boots, sighing with great relief as her body breathed for the first time in two days.
Ray inputted several commands with a few clicks of the mouse, his attention quickly returning to his computer. He watched her in the reflection of this monitor as he worked. "I assume that is Mrs. Conrad's coat you're wearing?"
"How else was I going to get back here through the snow?"
"May I ask if you know whether Mrs. Conrad is still alive?" Ray asked.
"Why do you ask?"
>
Ray picked up his hand-held computer and began inputting commands. "Her last login was quite disturbing," he said as he turned to face Virginia. "You said there was an incident?"
Virginia took a deep breath, and then proceeded to explain the series of events to the best of her ability. Ray stared back for a moment, taking in the story, and then he began to punch in a few new commands on his hand-held computer.
"But you would say Mrs. Conrad is probably still alive?" he asked.
"I locked her in the basement."
Ray entered a command for one of his most seasoned men to investigate the Conrad estate before he set the hand-held into its computer port. He synchronized the databases, sending his commands to the other headquarters.
Ray and Isaac had come up with an immediate counterattack to Corporate's development of HD-1a, as well as Mrs. Conrad's allegation that deviants had killed her husband. Isaac had his laboratory staff working at all four locations to produce enough Blue Dust to infect the entire quadroplex. Meanwhile, Ray had assassins hunting down every Corporate their intelligence could track, silently taking them down, one by one, as they left from their fortress-like estates.
"I'm still looking for volunteers for our next big project," Ray said. "Can I count on your help?"
Virginia nodded.
"You look like you could use a hot bath." Ray pointed to a narrow tunnel on his right. "I've got a tub in my sleeping quarters. You can get cleaned up in there, scrub your clothes." He immediately shifted his attention back to his work, letting her know that their conversation was over.