The Raintree Rebellion

by Janet Mcnaughton

  Terry’s dark eyebrows fly toward his hairline. “You surprise me. I knew about your holo-zine, of course, but I assumed you’d have, well, people to do the ‘technical part.”

  “Servants, you mean,” Kayko says. She sounds mildly annoyed and I gather she’s used to this conversation. “In my family, if you want to do something, you have to learn to do it yourself.”

  Terry looks relieved. “Then you’ll be able to work without extra staff. We need a few days to prepare our own indexes. You can get started on Monday.”

  We rise to leave. I try to get to Kayko as quickly as I can, but Astral is faster. He grabs me by the elbow. “Listen,” he says in a low, urgent voice, “I’m sorry I attacked you like that. I didn’t mean to. Sometimes, I get so angry I can hardly breathe. Do you understand?” I’m too surprised to reply. He looks at me for a long moment and then he says, “Of course you do.” He lets go of my arm and leaves without saying another word.

  “What was that about?” Kayko asks.

  “Just a misunderstanding,” I say. I can see she’d like to know more but I’m glad she doesn’t press me.

  9

  Three Tribe members were killed last night in what was apparently a clash over territory at the old opera house. The dead appear to range in age from ten to fifteen.

  —Newscast, The Solar Flare, September 6, 2370

  On Friday, our aim is to finish organizing our offices and plan a weekly work schedule. The Council is still meeting “informally” over lunch, a process Erica says is starting to give her heartburn. Kayko is still taking me to exotic restaurants. Erica strongly suggests we eat in the cafeteria with the other aides, but after that encounter with Astral, I would rather keep my distance. All the while, I find I cannot get that little girl out of my mind. I have to see her again. It’s hard to imagine Kayko at a vendor’s cart, but I’ve got to try. I catch her in the hall outside our offices on Friday morning.

  “What would you like today,” she says, “Thai or Hungarian?”

  “We can get really good noodles just behind the building here,” I say. “How about that?”

  She looks blank. “There’s nothing back there but—Blake, you don’t want to eat off a cart.” It’s not a question.

  “Yes! The food is really good! Erica took me there!” I force the exclamation points into my voice.

  “If you really want to. But my bodyguards will be, well, apparent. Everyone will see them.”

  I’d forgotten about them. I feel a wave of pure relief to know we won’t be out there alone. “That’s fine!” This time, the emphasis is not forced.

  Kayko smiles. “You’re acting funny today. What’s going on?”

  I wouldn’t mind telling her, but Erica might overhear us here. “Just trust me, all right?” I whisper. Kayko leaves looking delighted by the promise of a mystery.

  The morning goes slowly. I have to redo one directory index three times, but I keep at it, doggedly, so Erica won’t notice how anxious I am. Finally, Kayko comes to the door.

  “Where are you off to today?” Erica asks.

  “Oh, Oriental food, you know,” I wave my hand as if it’s too much to keep track of.

  Erica gives me a sharp look. She knows something isn’t right. Then, to my relief, she lets it go. “Have a good lunch,” she says.

  “What are we doing?” Kayko asks as we leave the building.

  I glance back to make sure her bodyguards are with us. They are. “Maybe nothing. I want to find a little girl. She hangs around the noodle cart.”

  “A homeless girl? Does she have a family?”

  “No, she’s with a Tribe. I’ll tell you more later.”

  Kayko looks back, too. “For once, I’m glad they’re with me,” she says.

  “So am I.”

  I’ve been wondering how the noodle vendor will react, but if she recognizes me, she gives no sign. The bodyguards seat themselves at a nearby cart, looking like two ordinary office workers. Office workers with audio implants who happen to be extremely athletic.

  “These really are good noodles,” Kayko says after awhile.

  I’m glad she’s happy, but as we eat, a heavy disappointment settles on my chest. There’s no sign of the child. Maybe I’ll never see her again. I scan beyond the park.

  Across the street, some Tribe members are patrolling their territory. An old man crosses their path. He’s pushing a battered turbo-pram crammed with cast-off, empty fuel cells. The food I’ve just eaten turns to stone. Empty fuel cells have a cash value.

  “I wonder—” Kayko starts to say, then she sees my face.

  “Blake, what’s wrong?”

  “Across the street,” I manage to whisper.

  The kids from the Tribe have already swarmed the old man. Kayko waves her arm in the direction of the trouble. I don’t understand, but, in response, her bodyguards rise. They don’t hurry but there’s no mistaking their intent. Even before they cross at the traffic light, the kids notice them and scatter, gone by the time Kayko’s men reach the old man. The bodyguards help him load spilled fuel cells back into his turbo-pram, then they stay on that side of the street, conspicuously watching as he makes his way.

  “That was amazing,” I say.

  Kayko grins. “I have to admit, they have their uses.”

  My appetite is ruined. I watch Kayko finish eating in silence.

  “We can’t sit here all afternoon,” Kayko says gently.

  “I know,” I start to say. Then I see her, the girl. She slips out from behind a tree as if she’s always been there, and sings for us, the song she sang before.

  I kneel beside her when she finishes. “Hello, sweetheart. What’s your name?”

  Her eyes grow large with apprehension. The stranger who is too interested, too friendly, is always a danger. I remember. Her eyes flick toward the noodle cart. She’s not sure what I want, but she’s hungry enough to cooperate. “Sparrow,” she whispers.

  “That’s such a pretty song, Sparrow. Where did you learn it?”

  Her eyes go blank. “Time before,” she says, her voice flat. I curse myself for forgetting. The Tribes don’t let kids talk about the lives they had before. In St. Pearl, we were taught to call the past “last lifetime.” Anything more, any detail about the past, would earn a beating.

  “Do you live with a Tribe, honey?” I ask, already knowing the answer. She nods but says nothing. I’d hoped for more, but maybe that’s enough for today. “Let me buy you some noodles.”

  The vendor hands them over, stone-faced but without complaint. “Take them somewhere where you can eat them yourself,” I whisper to her. She looks up, amazed. Then she’s gone.

  “That’s all,” I tell Kayko. “We can go back.”

  “You just wanted to feed her?” Kayko sounds incredulous as she hops off her stool.

  “I meant to find out all I could about her, but she was so frightened. “

  “Blake, what do you want to do, really?” Kayko asks as we walk back to work.

  What I really want is to release her from the tight web of rules and punishments her Tribe has wound around her. To find the child inside that cocoon and set her free. I don’t try to explain this to Kayko. I’m not sure I could. “I’d like to get her away from that Tribe,” is what I say.

  “Then what? You’re going to adopt her?”

  “I thought Prospero might take her.”

  “You thought. Have you asked him?” Under Kayko’s scrutiny, the whole idea seems ridiculous.

  “Not yet.”

  “Blake, you don’t know how dangerous this is—” Kayko starts to say, but I cut her off.

  “I think I do. I lived with a Tribe, you know.” I don’t try to hide my anger.

  She softens. “They’re not the only problem. People take kids like her for their organs, to work with toxic waste—you must know more about this than I do. If the authorities caught you taking a child like that; it wouldn’t look good. You could get deported back to Terra Nova.”

  I
stop walking. “They wouldn’t do that, would they?” “They might. They’d be more likely to if you already had a criminal past.” She pauses. “You don’t, do you?”

  I laugh and start walking again. “I do, as a matter of fact, but I have no record. They never bothered to arrest us.”

  “Well that was lucky.”

  “Not really. When street kids were too bothersome, death squads took care of them.”

  Kayko stops, stunned. “You mean they were killed?”

  “That’s what happened to the homeless girl who cared for me. That’s how I ended up with a Tribe.” This isn’t something I talk about easily, but I find I can tell Kayko.

  She shakes her head. “I can’t imagine. Was it awful, living with that Tribe?”

  “The worst thing that ever happened to me. I lied, I stole—that isn’t the half of it. I’d be dead by now if I hadn’t given myself up to the Commission.”

  Kayko grabs my arm. “Look, Blake, this is probably crazy and dangerous, but if you want to rescue that little girl, I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  Kayko’s eyes have lost their mischievous twinkle. I don’t have to tell her this isn’t some kind of game. “Thank you,” I say. “I’ll try to talk to Prospero over the weekend.”

  Until Kayko offered to help, rescuing Sparrow was just a dream. Now, it could be possible. But only if Prospero agrees to take her. Luckily, Erica already knows I plan to volunteer at the ghost library. For the rest of the day I think of little else.

  I wake early Saturday morning, the sun barely up. Nervous energy and the vague shadows of disturbing dreams propel me out of bed. I eat quickly, leave a note for Erica, and I’m gone before she wakes. But, when I reach the park, I realize how hard it will be to talk to Prospero. Even this early in the day, preparations for the ghost library have taken over his camp and everyone in it. I’m quickly handed over to other volunteers. They need help looking after the youngest children, who are kept a safe distance from the action, under some big oak trees.

  When the work camp in Kildevil was abandoned by the Commission, after the Uprising, I spent months looking after the smallest children. I’d forgotten how happy they make me.

  The morning passes while I play with them, stop their fights, and help feed them. All the while, the ghost library unfolds nearby. It’s wonderful, full of colour, sights, and sounds.

  At lunchtime, Erica drops by to check on me. I realize I’m leaving her alone for the whole day. “Do you mind?” I ask.

  “Not at all. I have so much reading to do, it’s like a gift. We can shop for food tomorrow. That’s all I need help with. It looks like you’re needed here. Will you be home for supper?”

  I remember why I’m here. “Volunteers can stay for supper.“

  “Try to be home by dark then,” Erica says.

  After lunch, we take the children out to see a puppet show, then bring them back under the trees for a nap. I sit on the ground beside their mats and rub their backs while they settle, and I remember my dream of Sparrow, sleeping beside me with the Tribe. She belongs in a place like this, where children are loved and cared for. My need to see her here is almost a physical ache.

  Shadows grow longer, the crowds begin to thin out, and the puppet theatre is packed away. New cooking smells drift across to me. The children are cranky and exhausted from the excitement of the day. I pull one onto my lap. I know how they feel.

  Will I ever get to talk to Prospero? I’ll be surprised if I can get anywhere near him. But then, as if my thoughts have conjured him, he appears. Everyone else is dragging, but he seems energized. He looks as if he could keep going all night. “Well done, Blake,” he says. “I hear you worked hard. ·Come and have some supper.”

  I rise and then sit down again. “The children—”

  “Their regular caregivers are on their way,” he says. He seems to know everything.

  We are given wooden skewers with grilled meat and vegetables. Everyone just rips the food off with teeth and fingers. It tastes like the best meal I’ve ever eaten. Most of us sit in an exhausted stupor, but some of the performers are just as energized as Prospero. They regale us with stories of a sleeve set on fire while juggling flaming torches, of pickpockets exposed, mocked, and driven away, of the generous donations people have made.

  The day is almost over. I’ve had fun and I’ve been useful, but I’m no nearer to getting Sparrow away from that Tribe. This place is perfect for her, but how will I get her here? It’s time to leave. I’ve got to try.

  “Prospero, can I talk to you before I go?”

  “Of course. I’ll walk you to the street.” When we reach the park gates, he says, “What can I do for you?”

  “What?” I’m stunned. How could he have guessed my secret?

  He laughs. “Everyone wants something from me. What is it?”

  “You know I lived with a Tribe for a while. I told you when I first came here.” He nods. “It was bad. A lot worse than living with the homeless girl who took me from my mother.” I take a deep breath. “There’s a little girl in Queen’s Park, she’s only six or seven maybe,” and I tell him about Sparrow. He doesn’t stop me. He seems to know I’ve got to get all this out. “If I could just get her away from them,” I add. “If Sparrow could come here—”

  He shakes his head. “I don’t like Tribes, Blake, but I can’t afford to fight with them. If I started taking their kids, they’d take mine. It would be war.”

  “But this is just one child. They’d never know.” I’m begging.

  He tries to look stern but doesn’t succeed. “All right. If you can get her here, I’ll take her, no questions asked. But, if you get caught, you have to promise you won’t mention our deal.”

  “I promise. Thank you.”

  “You’re sure you know what you’re getting into? You’re in this without a net.”

  “That’s all right. I understand.” I’m not sure it is all right, but I won’t back down now. And I do have Kayko.

  He gives me a searching look. “I had a daughter,” he tells me. “She would have been about your age. And a wife. I lost them both in the technocaust.”

  “Maybe you’re my father!” I blurt the words without thinking, then fumble to explain myself. “We still don’t know what happened to him. I don’t even know his name.”

  He laughs. “My daughter had curly red hair, Blake, and blue eyes. Her name was Rosa.” I feel so silly, I hardly know where to look, but he continues. “If she were still alive,” he says, “I’d want her to be like you.”

  10

  Until I came to Toronto, finding my father alive seemed like the best thing that could possibly happen to me. I used to lie awake and wonder what sort of person would think to plant a micro-dot inside my arm.

  —From the victim statement of Blake Raintree

  When Prospero agrees to help me with Sparrow, my dreams about the Tribe stop. By Monday, I feel rested and ready for whatever comes next.

  “We’re going to the East End Detention Centre today,” Erica says at breakfast. “Maybe a field trip will make it easier for the Justice Council to work as a team.” She smiles without humour at her own bitter joke. “Oh,” she adds, “don’t forget about your appointment with Code Scanning this morning.”

  I’m amazed. “I’d completely forgotten. Do you think I should bother?” Finding my father seems like such a childish idea now, like imagining he might be Prospero.

  Erica stares at me. “What’s gotten into you, Blake? This time last week you could hardly wait for that appointment.”

  “I know. Last winter, finding my father seemed so real, but now we’re here, I realize how unlikely it is. Maybe I won’t go.”

  Erica pats my hand. “Do what you think best. At least the ID codes building is near Queen’s Park.”

  “That’s right,” I say, “it is.” Which would give me a chance to scout around where Sparrow lives. “Maybe I’ll keep that appointment.”

  When we arrive at work, a prison vehicle
is already waiting for the Council members. It’s unmarked, but somehow we know. It makes me shudder. “You’ll have a much nicer time today,” Erica says, “starting on those holo-projections. I’d love to be with you.” I wish I could share her enthusiasm.

  I find Kayko alone in the media conference room, looking as dismal as I feel. “So, today I begin my career as a holo-projectionist,” she says.

  “Won’t you be able to work with us?”

  “After I get things going I will. Griffin wants to run two holograms at a time, which makes sense. We’ll divide into teams of two, and I’ll join one when everything’s set up.”

  “Sound like you’ve got it all worked out.”

  “Griffin and I met over the weekend. He insisted.” She sounds mildly annoyed.

  Mention of the weekend reminds me of Sparrow. Should I tell Kayko about my arrangement with Prospero? She’ll need to know if she’s going to help me. But while I hesitate, Griffin, Astral, and Luisa enter carrying boxes. Griffin practically bounces into the room.

  “Please, everyone, have a seat,” he says. “Kayko and I developed a working plan over the weekend, but we welcome your input and questions.” He holds up the box he carried in. “These micro-disks contain holo-projections of protest rallies, meetings, government press conferences, anything newsworthy in the years before the technocaust. We have the media reports that go with the raw footage. We’re going to go through the material in chronological order, of course. The technocaust didn’t start until 2353, but we’re going back a little farther, to 2352.”

  “Why is that?” Luisa asks.

  “The exact cause of the technocaust is still unclear,” Griffin says. “We know that violence against people with technological skills began late in 2353, but we don’t know exactly why. It may have started with ordinary people, but it’s clear that the Protectors condoned it.”

  “Condoned it?” Astral says. “Who built the concentration camps those techies died in? The Protectors orchestrated the violence. They created it.” He sounds furious, but Griffin only nods.

  “So we’ve suspected for years. Now, we get to find out.” Griffin leans forward. “Anything I’ve been able to piece together about the technocaust will pale in comparison to what we can discover here. This is very important work, no matter what becomes of the Justice Council. Think of yourselves as detectives, unravelling a huge mystery. But it isn’t going to be easy.