by H. A. Swain
“Do you…?” I start to ask if he feels the same way about me, but then I worry that he doesn’t.
“Do I what?”
I look down to hide my embarrassment and mutter, “Do you understand the Universal Nutrition Protection Act?” Then I cringe. What a stupid question!
“That’s a doozy,” he says. “First you have to understand the Population Stability Act.”
He seems almost excited to talk about this so I go along. “You mean the one that says everybody gets nutrition and inoculations for free from the government?”
“Not exactly,” he tells me. “The Population Stability Act originally said that every person, regardless of birth circumstance, would receive inocs and nutrition from the government. But after One World cornered the market on synthetic nutrition and became the government’s sole provider of nutritional beverages, they pushed a resolution through the government called the Universal Nutrition Protection Act, which does two things. First, it says free nutrition is only available to the first, legally born child of a family.”
“Right,” I say. “That helps keep the population in check. That’s why if parents want a second, they have to prove they can afford it before they can procreate. Makes sense, don’t you think?”
Basil blanches. “But what about seconds who are born illegally? What happens to them if their parents can’t pay?”
I scoff. I’ve never heard of such a thing. “Who would go to all the trouble of having a second if they couldn’t afford it?”
“What if it’s an accident?”
“But the inocs and Synthamil take care of that, right? They suppress more than the urge to eat.” I blush a little when I say this.
Basil’s quiet for a moment, then he says, “Maybe it doesn’t always work that way for everybody.”
“But that would mean…” I try to work out what would happen to babies born without families to support them, only Basil’s already moved on.
“The other thing UNPA did,” he says, “was make it so that every individual has to sign a contract in order to receive free nutrition from the government.”
“I’ve never signed a contract,” I point out.
“Until you’re 18, your parents do on your behalf.”
“What’s the contract say?”
“That you won’t engage in any agricultural practices as long as you’re accepting free nutrition. Since One World is the only corporation producing nutrition anymore if you breach your contract, you’re out of luck.”
“So they’re afraid we’re all becoming farmers? With what?” I motion out the window. “Depleted soil and imaginary seeds?”
“Their interpretation of agricultural practices is broad,” Basil says with a sneer. “UNPA states, ‘Upon acceptance of your allotted synthetic nutritional beverages, you hereby agree that the growing, harvesting, selling, reproducing images of, and/or consuming food from other sources is strictly prohibited under penalty of law and will be considered a breach of contract.”
“But that’s not protecting universal nutrition!” I say.
“That’s why we call it the no-food law. And now you understand why all the people at the Analog meeting cooperated when security agents told them to stay. Better to do what they say and be put on a watch list then run away and get caught later because then you might lose your supply of Synthamil.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I say. “If people get cut off, they’ll starve.”
“First you’d have a chance to pay restitution to One World for breaching your contract. Which probably means paying them market value for every bottle of Synthamil you’ve ever received up to that point. Most of those people at that meeting are just workers from the Outer Loop. They don’t have that kind of money.”
“So then what happens?”
“Same thing that happens whenever someone can’t pay restitution after they commit a crime. They end up in jail, working off their debt. Except that the debt they owe is to the very entity that is threatening not to feed them.”
“But … that’s unfair!” I say in what may be the biggest understatement in history.
“Your choice becomes to either accept the status quo out of fear or organize to make change.”
“You mean like a rebellion? Like Svalbard?”
Basil flinches. “How do you know about the Svalbard Rebellion?”
“From my dad and the Dynasaurs,” I tell him.
“Dynasaurs?” He looks puzzled.
“They’re an underground hacking group that formed after One World suppressed the protests. I thought maybe the Analogs and Dynsaurs might be related. I saw a Svalbard tattoo on Ana’s neck.”
“Never heard of the Dynasaurs,” Basil says. “What do they do?”
“Nothing much,” I admit. “They’re just a bunch of people who resent how much power One World has, so they mess with them. Hack into games and product launches when they can find a weak spot in the code. They try to be a constant unreachable itch on One World’s back.”
Basil rolls his eyes, clearly unimpressed. “Analogs want real change. We believe people should have the freedom to seek nourishment from any source without punishment. We want universal food rights with multiple providers.”
“But Basil,” I say, and this time I’m the one who reaches out to touch him. “There is no other food.”
“You really believe that?” he asks.
“Don’t you?”
“I don’t know. Maybe not.”
“Then where is it?”
“Ana says that beyond the Loops, in the Hinterlands, we’ll find it.”
I withdraw my hand. “What if she’s wrong?”
Before Basil can answer, Fiyo strides into the room and stands over us, legs wide, hands on hips. “Yaz told me all about your predicament, and I just want to say that I am a friend and my services are at your disposal.”
“Wait,” I say, feeling suddenly uncomfortable. “Do you actually know who I am?”
“You’re Thalia Apple,” Fiyo says.
“And you know who my parents are?”
“Of course.”
“You’d be taking a big risk,” I tell her.
“I’m not a fan of corporate control,” Fiyo tells me. “One World this and One World that. As if any of the rest of us have a chance to make a buck. Anytime anyone is sticking it to them, I’m happy to lend a hand.”
Yaz grins at us from the doorway. “She’s a genius, I’m telling you! An absolute genius!”
“We’ll let my work speak for itself.” Fiyo steps forward and runs her fingers through my hair. She grabs my chin and lifts my face to the light. “But I can promise that nobody will recognize you two when I’m done.” She flips my hair over my shoulder, gives Basil a once-over, then nods. “Come with me.”
We push through a heavy blue curtain that leads into her treatment room. Movie trailers, product launches, and celebrity interviews pass by silently on a large wall screen across from a black reclining chair.
“Who’s first?” Fiyo asks.
Basil and I look at one another. We look to Yaz and back at each other. “I’ll go,” Basil says and steps forward.
“A true gentleman.” Fiyo leads Basil to a recliner. Yaz pulls up two little stools so we can watch.
“What are you going to do?” Yaz asks. “Eyes? Hair? Skin tone?”
“All of the above!” Fiyo says as she studies Basil. Then she pulls on a pair of gloves and considers her options. “You have excellent bone structure,” she tells him. “And great coloring. Speaking professionally, I would say you are a beautiful human creature.” She winks a purple eye.
Basil squirms but Yaz and I both giggle because it’s true.
“Now tell me,” Fiyo asks as she pushes up Basil’s sleeve and swabs his skin with some antiseptic. “How has Ana been? I haven’t seen her in a long time.”
“She’s okay,” Basil says. “Except for the whole being in custody thing.”
Fiyo prepares the first syringe. “Wel
l, the next time you see her, tell her to come to my Spalon. Some highlights around her face would really make her green eyes pop. She’d look better on camera the next time she gets arrested.” Another wink. She pushes a tiny bubble of serum from the top of the needle.
“How do you know Ana?” I ask Fiyo.
“Just because you’re only now getting wise to the ways of the not One World, doesn’t mean it hasn’t existed for a long time,” Fiyo says as she massages the injection point on Basil’s arm. “I might look young, but I’ve been around for a while and so has Ana.”
“What are you giving me?” Basil asks, staring nervously at his arm.
“Just a little genetic material to change your eyes,” Fiyo says casually as she prepares his next syringe. “We’re going light! Iceberg blue.”
“What’s an iceberg?” Basil asks.
“Who knows,” says Fiyo. “But the color is divine! Now blink for me.”
Basil blinks and blinks again. Each time he opens his eyes the brown of his irises fades as the melanin recedes, taking him from the phosphorescent yellowish green of algae to the grayish blue of a true daytime sky. I imagine his eye color alleles doing the do-si-do. G’s, T’s, C’s, and A’s temporarily changing positions. Fiyo watches the whole thing carefully. “Hmmm,” she says. “I think we’ll go just a touch lighter. Take away your smoldering stare.” She injects Basil again. And within a few moments, his eyes are the brightest blue I’ve ever seen.
Basil looks at me. “Do I look really weird?”
I nod, captivated by how different he seems already.
“Hair time!” Fiyo announces as she holds up the next syringe.
I nudge Yaz. “Can I talk to you?” I cut my eyes toward the waiting room. “Out there?”
“We’re going to step out for a sec,” she announces.
“Mmm-hmm,” Fiyo says knowingly. “Girl talk, huh?”
“Yes,” says Yaz. “Be back in a minute.”
In the waiting area I ask to use Yaz’s Gizmo. “What are you going to do?” she asks as she hands it over.
“I want to talk to my dad, but I can’t turn mine on or they’ll know where we are. I blocked your locator at the EA.”
“They must be freaking out!” says Yaz. “They think you’ve been kidnapped.”
“Please,” I scoff. “A million dollars says that’s just a story my mom and Ahimsa concocted so they can arrest Basil and cover up that I busted out of rehab.”
* * *
I take Yaz’s Gizmo outside to talk in private. In the darkness of the empty lot, illuminated by the faint glow of the small screen in my hand and the distant stars overhead, I command Jilly to call my father.
He answers immediately. “Yaz? Is Thalia with you?”
Tears sting my eyes when I see his face on the Gizmo screen. I know he must be worried and disappointed. “No, Dad,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “It’s me. Thalia.”
“Thalia! Oh thank god!” he shouts. “Lily! Mom! Everybody. It’s Thalia!”
“Dad, wait!” I say. “I only want to talk to you.” But it’s too late. Over his shoulder I see Mom, Grandma Apple, Papa Peter, and Grandma Grace rush into the living room.
He turns back to the screen. “Are you okay? Where did they take you? What do they want? Did they hurt you?”
“I’m fine,” I tell him, crunching loose pebbles and clods of dirt as I pace. “Nobody wants anything. I left rehab on my own. I ran away.”
His face contorts. “But that boy you were with? They saw you at the EA.”
“Yaz and I got separated from him,” I say and realize this is the first time I’ve lied to my father. “I’m pretty sure they arrested him.”
“Not as far as I know,” he says and glances at my mom who bullies her way into the camera eye.
“Where are you?” she demands. “How dare you leave! Do you know what kind of trouble you’ve caused?”
“Lily, stop,” Dad snaps at her. “The most important thing is she’s safe.” He looks at me. “I’m not picking up your location. Tell me where you are so that we can come get you.”
I stop pacing. “I need to ask you some questions first.”
“Look, Thalia,” Dad says, hunching close to the camera eye so my mother can’t interrupt. “I don’t care what you did. I don’t care that you ran away. Just tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you, no questions asked. Maybe we can find a different rehab facility if you didn’t like that one. We’ll work it all out. I promise.”
“Honey,” Grandma Apple peeks over Dad’s shoulder. “Honey, please. Just tell us where you are.”
“Thal baby,” Papa Peter calls. I can make out only the top of his head behind Dad and Grandma. “I know there seems like a lot of hoo-ha going on and you might feel angry or scared or confused, and maybe the adults around you haven’t handled things correctly, but it’s time to come home now. You hear me?”
“First, I need to understand some things,” I tell them all. I look up into the night sky. It’s so dark out here away from the Inner Loops that I can see patterns in the stars. I try to connect the dots and form a picture as I talk. “I want to know more about the Universal Nutrition Protection Act and why One World arrested Ana and what happened to all the people at that meeting.…”
Mom shoves her way into the camera eye again. “Why is that any of your concern?”
“Because it affects people,” I say. “Because it affects me!”
“It doesn’t have to affect you!” she says. “If you would come back here and let us get you straightened out…”
“I don’t need straightening out,” I shout at her, then I try to calm down because I’m tired of fighting with my mother. I take a deep breath. “I don’t want to come home and go through rehab to optimize my brain so that I can go to more stupid ICMs and more stupid PlugIns and more stupid EntertainArenas. That’s just mindless fluff meant to keep the masses busy and happy.”
My dad presses his hand across his mouth and nods thoughtfully when I say this. I feel buoyed by his response and start pacing again as I talk. “If I come back now, then for the rest of my life I’ll have this feeling inside of me, gnawing away, never satisfied because I’ll know there’s a whole other part of the world that’s hidden from me.” I stop at the far end of the lot. “I need answers.”
“You’re right,” says Dad, which stops me. “There’s so much more to this world than you likely know. We’ve probably sheltered you too much. But we did it because the truths are ugly and none of us wants to relive them. Your grandparents and your mother and I worked very hard to make a world we wish we had when we were your age. A place that’s safe from war and starvation and all the other horrible things human beings are capable of when resources are scarce.”
“You can say what you want about One World,” Mom says, pushing Dad aside. “But at the end of the day, we’re keeping everybody alive. And as a privileged person on this Earth, you have an obligation to contribute to that system.”
“Not if I don’t agree with it,” I tell her.
Grandma Apple squishes in front of my mother and father. “You don’t have to agree with everything, but you can work for change from the inside.”
“Let me talk to her,” another voice commands. My family parts and I see Ahimsa march across our living room. She leans down to the camera, her black eyes fierce with anger. “I don’t know what kind of lies that boy you’ve taken up with has been feeding you, but you have no idea who these corporate resisters are and what they’re capable of. Ana Gignot is a lunatic. She’s endangering the lives of others with her delusions. The longer you stay out there, the deeper your trouble. But it’s not just you. Eventually your behavior could have a negative impact on your parents’ position at One World. There’s only so long I can protect all of you.” She stands up and backs slowly away from the camera, never taking her eyes off my face.
Her words feel like a kick to my chest. I watch as my mom and dad and my grandparents swarm around th
e camera eye again. Of course I don’t want to hurt them, but the thought of going back to Dr. Demeter’s dome or Basil winding up in prison makes my blood run cold. “Will you promise not to send me back to rehab if I come home?”
My dad starts to nod but my mom says, “We can discuss what kind of treatment you’ll get.”
“And what about Ba—I mean the boy?” I ask.
Ahimsa steps forward again. “We cannot and will not protect a corporate resister.”
Across the parking lot, Fiyo’s door swings open. “She’s ready for you!” Yaz calls into the night.
“Who is that?” Dad squints at the screen. “Where are you?”
“I have to go,” I tell my family.
“Don’t hang up.…” Dad says.
“Good-bye,” I say.
Before I disconnect, I hear my mother roar, “Find her, Max!”
“I can’t,” Dad says. I kill the video but keep the audio connection and press my ear against the speaker again. “She figured out how to block the locator.”
“For god’s sake! You’re the head of One World programming and the chief security officer. Find a way in,” my mother insists.
“Search the video feed,” Ahimsa tells him. “There’s bound to be a landmark or a clue.”
Quickly I end the call and run for Fiyo’s door, knowing it’s only a matter of time before we’re traced.
* * *
Fiyo steps back from Basil. “Now we wait,” she says.
As far as I can tell, Basil doesn’t look all that different yet.
“It takes more time for the skin and hair serums to work.” She studies Basil for another moment. “Unless of course, you really want to change it up. Add a little of this.” She caresses herself from breasts to hips. “It’s my latest endeavor. Temporary estrogen. Lasts five weeks.”
Basil shrinks in his chair. “No thanks.”
“Don’t worry.” Fiyo winks and laughs. “I’ve still got the other equipment, too.”
Basil comes close and blinks at me with his newly blue eyes. “Everything okay?” he asks. When I hear his voice, that cold, kicked-in-the-gut feeling I had in the parking lot subsides. For a moment I feel warm and safe, like I’ve curled up beneath one of my grandmother’s hand-knit blankets. “Do I look weird?” he asks.