Truth

by Julia Karr

  My anger at Sal spread like the latest vert campaign, covering every man I knew, including my long-lost father; finally, I drifted off into a fitful sleep

  XXVIII

  There was nothing like an Alert with breakfast. For months, the country had gone without any at all, but now we were at the third in less than a week. The FeLS news was big. Since Dee had already seen the one about Ed, I included her. We sat in the kitchen, watching a projected Kasimir Lessig on the wall.

  “Investigators are closing in on the mystery woman believed to be Edward Chamus’s accomplice. Although her identity is still unknown, the wife of the missing man has been cleared of any wrongdoing.”

  Lessig swung around to face the camera full on.

  “In related news, several girls who were abused at the fraudulent FeLS training station have come forward.”

  Images of girls—their blank, expressionless stares interspersed with the haunted terror that I’d seen in Joan’s eyes—flashed on the wall.

  “These unfortunate young women are even now on a transport to a safe facility on the Dark Side, where they will be assessed and treated for the traumas they’ve endured. After a time, they will, hopefully, be ready to return to mainstream society.” A number ran across the projection, under Lessig’s face. “Some of these girls were so terribly damaged that they fled in terror when authorities approached them. To facilitate the assistance and aid of these poor girls, the Governing Council is offering an unprecedented fifty thousand credits for information leading to the procurement of any girl who was subjected to the illegal training and has somehow managed to escape the clutches of the alleged perpetrator, Edward Chamus.”

  As he repeated the number and calling instructions, Dee leaped up. “Fifty thousand? You don’t know any girls that happened to, do you? That’s a megaton of credits. Just think, you’d be helping some poor girl, and we’d be up-tiered.”

  “Dee, did you not hear what Lessig said?” I shut off the projection.

  “Yeah.” Dee cocked her head. “He said they’re going to help any girls who were sent to that fake FeLS training.”

  “No, they’re taking those girls to some secret location on the Dark Side. When they come back, they will have been reassimilated. There won’t be anyone left to tell the truth about who was involved in the training, or who those girls were given to afterward. You could tell just by looking at them that they’d already been drugged.”

  “Really? You don’t think the GC wants to know who all’s involved?”

  “Exactly.” I pressed my lips together. The time for telling Dee about the Resistance was getting closer. “I’d bet even some of the top men in the GC are involved.”

  “What about that woman they’re talking about?” Dee’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t understand how a woman could let men do . . . that . . . to girls who were supposed to be virgins. Who thought they were . . .” A look of horror crossed her face. “I have to apply for FeLS when I turn fifteen. What if all this stuff is still happening then?”

  “Deeds, I’ve got a job. I’ll have plenty of credits by then to buy out your contract. Don’t worry. There may not even be a FeLS program in four years. Which reminds me, what do you want for your birthday? It’s coming up pretty soon.”

  She braved a smile. “I don’t want anything. Except maybe for Gran and Pops to be home. I miss them.”

  “Me, too.”

  ***

  Later that morning, Dee was poring over Gran’s cook center cards, while I stayed in my room drawing. I was working on a series of pictures of homeless people whom I’d seen over the years.

  One was of a man, frozen on the street. An image I wasn’t likely to forget, ever. I’d been all of eight and in the city with Mom, Ed, and Dee. Mom and Dee were shopping, and Ed had taken me with him to pick up some vids. The homeless guy was lying just inside an alley entrance. Ed dragged me over to show him to me. “This is what happens when you don’t follow the rules,” he growled.

  The man’s head was stuck to the sidewalk in ice. His sightless eyes stared up at the snow pelting down on him. He was dead. I’d puked on Ed’s shoes, which really pissed him off. That night he sent me to Sandy’s with Dee. Next day, Mom had a black eye.

  I looked at the drawings, people of all ages, and reached for my PAV.

  “Hey, Dorrie, it’s Nina. Can we talk about Rogue Radio and vid interruptions?”

  ***

  Dorrie lived in an apartment with her dad. Her mom had run off to New York with a maintenance guy. Dorrie had never heard from her again. I guessed that was probably for the best. She and her dad looked like they were doing all right. They were tier three; he was a production grower at the Chicago Botanical Gardens, and their apartment was full of plants. He was also a NonCon.

  “So”—I handed her a tube of my drawings—“here they are. You think you can do something with them?”

  She spread out the pictures and studied them, scrunching up her mouth and tipping her head from one side to the other. “Hang on. Let me get my recorder.”

  Half an hour later, she had recorded all the images and was already selecting music to go along with the program she was imagining.

  “This will be brilliant, Nina. I don’t get to do nearly enough vid interruptions. I’m thinking right in the middle of Vacation Destinations of the Ultra-Riche. What do you think?”

  “Perfect.”

  On the way home, I hatched up a further plan and called Wei. “Can you meet me in fifteen minutes downstairs?”

  When I walked in, Wei had Dee in a headlock on the living room floor.

  “What are you guys doing?”

  “I was teaching Dee some Cliste Galad moves. She asked . . .”

  “I’m going to learn it.” Dee stood up. “I need to get back to the kitchen. Chili tonight.”

  “Dee is so cool,” Wei said. “It won’t be long before you have to tell her about the Resistance. She’ll figure it out if you don’t. Or she’ll accidentally let something slip.”

  “I know,” I said. “I’m not exactly sure how to tell her. I’ll figure it out. Listen, come to my room.”

  I unrolled the drawings on my bed. “What do you think?”

  “Like I said before, your sketches are as powerful as your dad’s speeches.”

  “Well, what would you think if we, as Pops used to say, ‘painted the town,’ so to speak?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I told her about Dorrie creating a vid interruption. “She’s going to broadcast it during that show about ultrarich vacationers. I was thinking, what if we posted these around town? We’d have to do it after dark.”

  “And we’d need a getaway trannie. I wish I could drive.” She drew her fingers across her chin. “I’d say Sal or Chris, but I don’t want them to be part of this. This is for the Sisterhood.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. I thought back to how I had left things with Sal the night before. He hadn’t tried to call me, and there were no messages on my PAV either.

  “What about Paulette? Would you hate that?”

  Yes. But I didn’t say so. “Not if you promise not to talk about Sal. Or her party.”

  “I promise.” Wei held up her hand. “So, what’s going on with Sal. You’re mad at him, huh?”

  I gave her the short version of my previous night’s conversation with Sal.

  “Guys can be so ridiculous when it comes to realizing that girls are just as capable as they are. And women are as good of fighters as men. Fems did have control of the country for nearly fifty years.”

  “Yeah, I know.” I didn’t mention that the Fem government had been completely swallowed up, without any kind of fight, by the Governing Council.

  Mom had said that Media influence undermined the effectiveness of the Fems by implying they hated men. It didn’t matter that many of the Fem leaders were wives and mothers. Media began broadcasting subtle anti-Fems messages, combined with bombardments of verts glorifying the sexualization of women and teen gi
rls and implying that the only strength women had was in their sexuality. Eventually, the tide turned, and the GC took over and partnered with Media. Leaving women and girls as mere sex objects.

  “Nina, Sal can be reasoned with,” Wei said. “I’m sure it’s because he’s so crazy about you that he worries something will happen to you. That’s the excuse my dad uses, at least.”

  “What about your mom? Doesn’t he worry about her?”

  “Do you think my mother would let anyone stop her from doing anything she wants?”

  Knowing Mrs. Jenkins, I chuckled. “Nope.”

  “Dad’s figured that out, too.” She shifted to face me. “So have you tried calling Sal?”

  “No, and I’m not going to. I don’t know what I’d say to him. I hate that he’s out there, doing NonCon whatever and is in danger of being discovered, and we left everything so badly.”

  “So call him. Now.”

  I thought about it. It didn’t matter how angry I was, I loved Sal. I didn’t want it to end; I just wanted him to understand how I felt. I picked up my PAV, then put it down.

  Finally, I picked it up again and sent him a message: “Sorry I got mad. I love you.”

  I turned to Wei. “You want to call Paulette?”

  After a short PAV conversation, Wei said, “Eight o’clock tonight. I’d better get upstairs and practice piano. See you later. Wear black.”

  XXIX

  “I’m going out with some friends for a bit,” I told Dee.

  “No problem,” she said. “Miss Maldovar sent me a message to call her when I could. She wants to talk about the first week back after break.”

  What was it about that woman that bothered me? I went out into the foyer to wait for Wei, and called Dorrie. “Can you find out information on people, like family backgrounds and such?”

  “Sure,” Dorrie said. “It might take a while, but it can be done. Who is it?”

  “Adana Maldovar,” I said. “My sister Dee’s teacher.”

  “I’ll see what I can find. By the way, I showed Brie what we worked on. She’s impressed.”

  I was glad she hadn’t asked me why I wanted the info, because I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a good answer. But there was something, of that I was sure.

  Thank goodness Paulette didn’t show up in her dad’s stretch transit. I was surprised that the trannie she had was so unassuming.

  “What exactly are we doing?” Paulette asked. “All you said was that we had a mission.”

  “Can we talk in here?” Wei asked.

  “Yeah. Sal took care of this one. We use it a lot.”

  I held my tongue. Sal had told me he wasn’t interested in her—that should be good enough. Of course, the little voice in my head insisted, that was before you told him off and hung up on him. I didn’t have time to listen to that—what we were planning was important.

  “We’re doing a little art show.” Wei uncovered the copies of my drawings that she’d made. “You drive, I’ll be the lookout, and Nina will post her sketches.”

  “This should be fun.” Paulette eased the trannie into gear. “Where to first?”

  “State Street,” Wei said. “Mag gave me seven locations where she knows the surveillance cameras are down.”

  Our first stop was on State Street, near the Chicago Omniplex. Paulette pulled into the alley, and Wei and I hopped out. I secured two posters, one facing north, one south; Wei watched out for passersby. That one was easy.

  We nearly got caught on Oak Street when a doorman told Paulette she couldn’t park where she’d stopped. I had to admit, though, she was smoother than smooth. Not only did she talk him into allowing her to stay, but he said if she ever needed free parking downtown while he was on duty, he’d find her a spot in the hotel lot. I was sure I saw her give him a tip card, too.

  The other five stops were quick and easy. After the last one, we drove back by the first location to see if they were still there. They were. And they’d drawn a crowd. We didn’t dare go by the one on Oak, for fear the doorman might recognize Paulette’s trannie. A Media van was stopped at the third one—which was across from the Justice Building. The crew was taking pictures.

  “I’d say you’ve made an impression,” Wei said.

  “Looks like she’ll also make the news at eleven,” Paulette said.

  “Except no one will know it’s me,” I said. “And that’s a good thing.”

  “Yeah, well,” Paulette said. “It’s late. I have to get home. Last-minute party arrangements.”

  Wei glanced back at me. I shook my head. Paulette didn’t need to know that I’d been invited. And Wei didn’t need to know that I had no intention of going.

  ***

  Next morning Dee insisted that I go to Mars 9. “They have tons of stuff on their sale racks, Nina. I know you can find something ultra!”

  “You want to come with me?” Maybe some of her excitement would rub off on me.

  “No. I promised Miss Maldovar that I’d do some research on the Museum of Science and Industry. We’re taking a field trip there in February.” She picked up her cup of cocoa and trotted back to her room. “Get something cute!” she called out before she shut her door.

  “Great.” I trudged back to my room and grabbed the gift certificate. “I’m not going to that stupid party,” I muttered. “I’m getting a new scarf.”

  Just then my PAV beeped.

  “Nina, it’s Martin. Percy will not leave me alone until I confirm that you are coming to the party, don’t you know? He’s absolutely smitten with you. I should be so jealous. But I’m smitten, too. Are you coming?”

  “Martin, I . . . I don’t think it’s a good idea. I don’t think it’s the kind of thing for me. I’m only tier—”

  “Nonsense, Nina. You are a Creative. And you are my assistant. And as such, you need to learn to associate with these people, like it or not. But listen, if you don’t have anything to wear, I’d love to take care of that. We could go shopping at—”

  “No, please. I’ve got a gift credit at Mars 9. I was just going shopping. I’m sure I can find something perfect there.” Martin was right, if I was going to do anything in the art world, I was going to have to do things like this. I was going to Paulette’s whether I wanted to or not. And I was definitely on the “not” side of things.

  “Fabulous! I’m off to tell Percy. See you at work tomorrow. Hugs and smooches.”

  As I was pulling on my coat, I thought about my scarf, which made me think of Joan, which made me think of food. It was one thing to give to the homeless on Holiday, but people needed to eat every day. I made a detour into the kitchen and threw together a dozen nut butter sandwiches. It wasn’t much, but it wasn’t rotten garbage either.

  ***

  I got off the transit at my old stop, thoroughly checking for any sign of that lady cop before ducking behind the buildings. I’d walked the whole length of the alley and was about to give up when I heard some female voices around a corner.

  “I heard it myself. They’re offering fifty thousand for any escaped FeLS. We could get into one of those welfare dorms, you and me,” an eager voice said.

  “We are not turning in anyone. Period. Understand?” The responding voice was threatening.

  “Okay. I was only tryin’ to help.”

  “It’s not help if you turn on your own.”

  I couldn’t hear the muttered reply. Their footsteps crunched on the snow, coming closer. I spun around the corner, out onto the street. As soon as they passed between the buildings, they saw me. One of the women was Svette. She motioned me over.

  “I brought you more food,” I said. “It’s just leftovers, but—”

  “Better’n nothing.” The second woman snatched the food from my hands.

  It was impossible for me to tell which of the two had wanted to turn Joan in.

  Svette squinted one eye at me. “You’re being nice to us ’cause of Joan? Why? What d’ya want?”

  “Joan’s a friend. I help m
y friends when I can.” I backed away. “Tell her I’ll see her soon.” With that, I hurried off. I was pretty sure the cold had nothing to do with the chill that ran down my spine. With that “reward” for escaped FeLS, Joan was in danger. The Sisterhood had to do something. And soon.

  ***

  Mars 9’s Holiday scenes still played in the windows. Girl mannibots pranced around in skintight pleather pants and faux-shearling jackets over skimpy tops that left nothing to the imagination. I could almost hear Gran admonishing one of these “girls” to “cover up, before you freeze to death . . . or worse.”

  My heart skipped a beat when a real, live person opened the door wide, welcoming me in. I hesitated for an overlong moment. Even with the gift credit in my pocket, I felt like a fraud. Two top-T’s came up behind me.

  “Are you going in or just gawking, sludge?” They pushed past me.

  The man holding the door flashed me an apologetic smile. “Won’t you come in? We have megasales going on right now. It’s the best time to find exactly what you didn’t get for Holiday.”

  I muttered a thank-you and scurried past him, not stopping to look at anything until I was deep in the store. Shoes. I was surrounded by every kind of ultrachic shoe a girl could want. On my right were sweaters. Spying the one Miss Maldovar had given me, I couldn’t resist. I checked the price. Damn! How could a teacher afford even one gift from here, let alone the massive piles of clothes she’d gotten for Dee? She must be doing something besides teaching, I thought. Maybe she pushes animal flesh. The thought of Miss Maldovar, doling out packages of meat from the chiller in her home, made my stomach turn.

  “May I help you?” I was accosted by a salesclerk who was dressed ten times more fashionably than I could ever hope to be. “Our sale racks are in the basement. That way.” Her nose wrinkled, her comet-red nail pointing the way. Even the people who sell to top-tiers look down on everyone below their customers.