Isis was quiet, thinking about it for a moment. “Yeah. I’m sorry... I love you guys, but I can’t stay. I like my job. I get to help people, and I like Wren and Jere and what we have there. It’s my life, now. Maybe you can just pretend I’m off at school or something. Rich kid boarding school. I get to train with a doctor. Plenty of kids would love this chance.”
“All these years, we thought we’d find you and save you,” Nathan admitted. “I guess you’re already there.”
Isis smiled. “I didn’t do anything. I just got lucky and Jere found me. But I’m not just going to let it go. Please be okay with this?”
Jere watched as her parents struggled with the decision. He assumed they were speaking telepathically. He had no idea how he would respond in the same situation, but for Isis’s sake, he hoped they could understand, or at least pretend to.
“Maybe we’ll do more to promote slave rights and decent treatment,” Nathan decided. “Isis, we want you to be happy, and we’ll support your decision, but you have to understand that we can’t really be okay with anything as long as you’re property.”
Isis shrugged. “That’s fine. I think I’m the only one who’s okay with that. Jere’s always bitching about it, Hojer’s all crazy, I guess these people at this networking thing are upset about it. I don’t need you to be okay with slavery. I just need you to let me stay with Jere and not try to make me feel guilty about it.”
Isis’s parents obviously weren’t thrilled about the idea, but Jere hadn’t expected them to be. He was proud of Isis for being able to stand up for herself, and thankful that her parents had relented. They accepted it enough not to fight it or make Isis miserable, and that was enough for him.
The event was larger than Jere expected, with plenty of people from different states and professions. He was thankful for the nametags that everyone wore, because they told him where the attendees were from and what their position was. Some had even added phrases like “hiring” or “seeking a job” to the tags, readily identifying themselves to anyone who was interested. Keeping with his announcement in Hojer, he wrote in “exploring options” on his own tag. Isis helped herself to a tag and scrawled “clinic assistant, Hojer” on it. None of the other slaves wore nametags, but none of them wore collars, either. She smiled at Jere as she attached it, staying close as he began to mingle with the rest of the crowd.
A healer from Denville, a small town on the edge of the Arona border, caught Jere’s attention almost immediately. “You’re from Hojer? What do you think of the new slave reform? I’m really hoping it will pass. The last few months, people have been bringing their slaves across the border to my clinic, insisting they want someone who knows how to treat humans. We can’t keep up with the patient flow.”
Jere smiled. “I’m in favor of it. I had been treating slaves in my clinic, but the state shut me down. It’s killing my business, and I hate seeing the mess that animal healers leave when they try to heal humans.”
“It’s so ridiculous,” the other healer said, shaking her head. “I’ve lived in slave states all my life—I used to think there was such a big difference, but once I got my gift... you can’t tell one from the other. Humans, you know? We all have the same bodies. We’re all at the same risk.”
“Absolutely,” Jere agreed. “I just hope the reform passes.”
“Well, if it doesn’t, we’ll probably be looking for another healer. Do you have a pen? I could write down my contact information.”
“You can tell me, ma’am,” Isis suggested. “Memory gift. I remember everything for my master.”
The healer nodded, giving Isis the details before walking off.
“Thank you,” Jere said, surprised to see her taking the initiative.
“Don’t thank slaves, it makes you look like an outlander,” Isis teased, barely loud enough for Jere to hear. She followed him closely, taking more contact information, and Jere was surprised to feel like he fit in.
After a while, Nathan let him know that he was due to give his speech. He sat toward the front of the audience, listening to the previous speaker discussing the need to recruit more medical professionals, and it was suddenly his turn. With Isis by his side, he made his way up to the podium.
“Hello. I’m Dr. Peters, from Hojer, Arona. I’d like warn you about some things that are going on in my hometown, things that might have a major impact on your patients and clinics.”
He had their attention.
“The ‘rotting disease,’ as it was once called, or derma cariosus, as most of us refer to it, may have mutated to a contagious and deadly form. It’s spreading across the west coast, and a few days travel by an infected person could bring it to this part of the world. As medical professionals, we are all aware that it won’t be the last of such mutations. Some of you might remember your grandparents telling stories about the time after The Fall, when disease wiped out a substantial portion of the population. Any means of preventing contagion is necessary. Right now, Arona, like many states, is proposing a reform to their existing slave codes, requiring that slaves be treated in human clinics, providing the best treatment.”
Someone near the front called out, “Humans need human clinics more!”
“They are human. Homo sapiens, if you prefer. Regardless of whether a human has a mental gift, marking them as free, or a physical gift, marking them as a slave, every human shares the same DNA. More importantly, they share the same virus transmission patterns as free people do. With the influx of new and treatment-resistant diseases that are occurring across the globe, it is vitally important that we take into account the health of every human being.”
Jere listened carefully, noticing the people who commented that they agreed, the people who argued that they couldn’t handle the traffic, and the people from more progressive states who seemed surprised that Arona didn’t already have such laws in place.
“I obviously have no major problems with slavery,” Jere reminded them, playfully gesturing toward Isis. “What I have a problem with is the risk that my state is exposing the general population to. We are reducing herd immunity. I’m sure none of you think this will affect your practice, but if this thing grows out of control, Arona will become a magnet for disease. If you’re on a border state? Sorry, you get it too. The same is true for other states—we need to do this together, and as leaders in healthcare, we need to make it clear to our friends, our patients, and our politicians—the best treatment is for everyone.”
It was frightening and exhilarating to have so many eyes focused on him. They were listening, just like he would have. Their profession united them more than anything else.
“The Arona Medical Regulation Board has forced me to stop treating slaves in my clinic. Those of you who own your own practices should find out if your state’s medical board is capable of doing the same. And all of you should investigate more about your patients and their travel histories. I’m sure nobody has made you aware of Arona’s new restrictions, but I’m letting you know personally: slaves from Arona, and by association their owners, may not be in the best of health. Like many of you, I’m exploring my employment options—if I leave Arona, I’d like to go out knowing that new potential candidates know exactly what they’re getting into.”
Jere ended his speech with a question and answer session, explaining how the clinic shutdown had occurred, what the potential reform in Arona would entail, and what his position was like there. He answered honestly, but he made sure not to shy away from any of the unpleasant details. He wanted them to know. The event went late, and Jere followed up with many of the attendees personally. Whether they were truly interested or just seeking gossip, he didn’t care. He was tired of staying quiet while bigoted government agencies dictated his life. He thought the networking event had been a remarkable success, and he was amazed that Isis had held herself together flawlessly.
The next morning, they visited Isis’s parents one last time. Isis tolerated a tearful hug from her mother and an awkward hand
shake from her father. Neither of Isis’s parents could look Jere in the eye, but they both muttered a bitter “thank you” as he and Isis walked out the door. He didn’t hold it against them; he knew that their anger was directed around him, at slavery and masters in general, and not at him personally.
They walked to the speed train station in silence. Isis seemed content enough after saying goodbye to her parents, but since then, Jere could sense the overwhelming misery and loss.
“Isis, I’m so sorry,” he started. “I know this had to be hard—”
“I can’t handle talking about it until we get home,” she mumbled, moving to sit next to him and taking him by surprise.
As if Jere wasn’t surprised enough that she was sitting next to him, she went nearly limp, flopping against his side and crying quietly. After a moment’s debate, he put his arm around her, providing the human contact he knew she craved in spite of hating it so much. She nestled in and sobbed until she fell asleep, leaving Jere to contemplate the entire situation. Isis had spent her entire life as a slave wishing to be reunited with her parents, only to realize that it didn’t solve anything.
Chapter 24
Reconnecting
Jere’s train was delayed, and Wren was pacing anxiously. Finally, he heard footsteps and the doorknob turning. He rushed to open it, surprised when he got an armful of Isis.
“God, Wren, I missed you so much,” she said, glued to him. “Everything was hard and nobody knows what it’s like to be a slave and I couldn’t stay with my parents because they wouldn’t understand and even though Jere tried I know he doesn’t really get it but you do, right? You get why I wouldn’t want to be free, to be with them?”
Wren tried not to be too shocked by the fact that Jere seemed to have informed Isis about the possibility of freedom before informing him. For a moment, he was glad that Jere didn’t have the mind connection with him yet. He felt the need to guard himself.
“I do get it,” he admitted.
Jere gave him a helpless look and shrugged. Finally, Isis pulled back, composing herself.
“Do I get to say ‘hello’ to my man, now?” Jere broke in, teasing. “I think I want to put my hands all the places you just did!”
“Gross,” Isis rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling.
Wren felt his heart start to race and his temperature soar as Jere approached him, looking tired and happy. Between the betrayal and the eagerness to see Jere again, he was burning up. He pulled Jere into his arms and kissed him, putting everything aside in favor of being with him again.
“The connection,” Wren mumbled, once their lips separated. “It was so weird without you.”
“I know,” Jere agreed. “I’ll put it back.”
Wren would have protested, except he really didn’t want to have that conversation in front of Kieran and Isis. He did his best to shield his emotions before Jere made the connection, but his success was limited.
“Wren, what—”
“Later, Jere. We can talk later about why you didn’t feel the need to tell me about the possibility of being free.”
The look on Jere’s face almost made up for it, and Wren had to admit that he felt rather triumphant knowing that he could inspire that much horror and shame. Good. Jere deserved to feel horrified and ashamed.
They spent the better part of the night talking about the trip, giving Isis the opportunity to gush about everything that had happened. Would he go back with his family if everything was different, if they wanted him back, if Jere wasn’t his partner? He would find himself in the same crisis as Isis did. What would he study, office management? An awful lot of time spent learning how to do something he excelled at already.
If the people of Hojer were willing to attack him just because Jere announced that he was considering other options, what would they do if they thought he was serious about leaving?
That night, Wren was glad to feel Jere next to him. He was surprised to realize that he didn’t even feel like yelling at him, at least, not right now. The relief he felt at knowing Jere was home safe was almost canceling out the anger. He sat next to Jere and put a hand on his leg.
“I, uh... I guess you found out.”
Jere didn’t even try to hide the fact that he had been keeping secrets. Wren wasn’t sure whether to be more irritated about that or less. A part of him had hoped that Jere had suffered a minor head injury or something, anything that would explain the lack of disclosure besides intentional betrayal.
“Found out? How could there be something for me to find out? I thought we weren’t keeping secrets from one another anymore?”
“I didn’t—”
“Jere!” Wren cut him off. “You didn’t what? Didn’t think I’d find out? Didn’t think I’d be upset? Didn’t think I’d want to know that there was a realistic option to be free some day? Or, oh, how about this—you didn’t think I deserved to have that kind of input into my own life? I’m just a slave, no matter how many times you tell me otherwise. When it counts, that’s how it works, right?”
“You’re my partner!” Jere protested.
Wren tried to hold his anger back, to cool the fire that threatened to burn him alive. “You can choose to be my partner or my master. I can’t. It’s always in the back of my mind that I am a slave and you own me. The fact that you can even try to forget it reminds me just how much more important reality is for a slave.”
The slave would feel obligated to tell the master about a big, life-changing opportunity. The master could hide it as he saw fit.
Jere was quiet for a moment. “I didn’t know if you’d choose to stay with me and I was scared you’d leave.”
“And so you’d rather just trap me here, make sure it wasn’t a possibility” Wren asked, no less offended by that excuse. “Shit, Jere, why don’t you just chain me to the fucking door so I can’t get too far away from here?”
Jere was silent.
“Oh, I’m sorry, is that one of those unthinkable things that I shouldn’t say?” Wren challenged, hoping to goad Jere into a real fight. When he had been jumped, it had been so easy to just comply. The only times he had ever felt like fighting for anything were when he was with Jere.
“No. You’re absolutely right,” Jere replied, looking down.
Wren wanted to stay angry. There should be some sort of consequences for something like this, right? The thought gave Wren an uncomfortable feeling, thinking of all the consequences he had experienced in his life, none of which were from Jere.
“I’m sorry. I fucked up. I did something that I knew would hurt you. It was shitty.”
“That’s a better start, at least. Jere, you’ve had the opportunity to leave since day one, you never did. Did you really think that the only thing keeping me here was the fact that I can’t actually leave the state?”
Jere shrugged. “A part of me always wonders. Would you stay, or would you leave me? This is a convenient relationship for you, but is it more?”
“Of course it’s more,” Wren said. “If it was just about convenience, I’d just let you keep being nice to me and fucking you sometimes without doing all the hard relationship shit that we do. I wouldn’t care about you like I do, or trust you with everything. I love you, and I love the relationship that we have. Even when it’s bad, it’s still good. Why do you think that I would leave you?”
Jere seemed to calm down a little, looking at Wren with no less guilt in his eyes. “I thought you’d want to be free.”
Wren sighed. “Of course I want to be free. It’s not like the opportunity comes with no strings attached. There are a lot of other factors to consider about that, and none of them are small. First off, there’s the safety risk! You’re the one who convinced me I didn’t want to die. I’m pretty serious about surviving. I don’t like risking myself like that, not to mention you or Isis. I’m not completely self-serving, you know. And more importantly, there’s what you and I have.”
Jere shrugged. “I know. I just... I didn’t know wha
t would be more important.”
“Surviving is important. You are important. Right now, as far as I see it, that means I stay.”
“You deserve to be free,” Jere muttered. “You shouldn’t let me hold you back, or Isis, or anyone.”
“Nobody would be holding me back,” Wren insisted. “Holding me back would be something like not telling me about an opportunity to leave, or not allowing me to leave. I am allowed to leave, right?”
Jere winced. Wren felt guilty, but only slightly. He was still furious that Jere had kept it from him.
“Yes. I’d allow it, and I’d support you in whatever way you needed.”
The idea of freedom was enticing, but the idea of leaving everything he had ever known or loved behind was terrifying. “I keep going back and forth with myself, and it doesn’t help that I’m pissed off at you, either. I wanted to just fucking leave when Kieran told me, just to spite you, but I know that’s stupid. And then I wanted to stay, because I don’t want to leave you, even when I’m really pissed off at you. And now... I just don’t know.”
If Wren was caught, getting found again would be unlikely, and having the opportunity to try for freedom again was even less so. There was a chance that they would never see each other again. That was if Wren wasn’t put down immediately.
“I still need some time to think about it. This is all just reaction—I’m mad at you, I want to go. I love you, I want to stay. I want freedom, I want to go. I think of the danger, I want to stay—I want to give this some proper thought. If I stay, I’ll always regret not going, and if I go, I’ll probably always regret not staying. Either way, I’ll regret not considering it for longer, not taking more time with it and thinking about what I really want. I need this.”
“I thought I could protect you from that problem. You’d never have to wonder ‘what if?’ You’d just be here, safe, never knowing the difference.”
Wren raised an eyebrow at the man he loved. “You wanted to protect yourself from losing me, don’t pretend it was something that it wasn’t.”
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