by Dima Zales
“This really isn’t a good time to philosophize about the question of identity,” Phoe says in an urgent whisper and moves closer to me. “We need to talk, right after I do this.”
Before I understand what’s happening, her lips are on mine.
I return the kiss. Somehow, the physical closeness clears the remaining grogginess from my mind. I remember doing this with her, the day before yesterday. Only it feels different right now. More primal.
The kiss continues, and she moves closer to me on the couch. She’s so close that her soft chest brushes against my upper arm.
I feel a stirring.
It’s familiar.
It’s what happened yesterday when I was watching Grace, only this sensation is many times stronger.
Phoe pulls away, her eyes narrowed into slits.
“I still can’t believe that happened.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I can’t believe you were lusting after Grace.”
“Phoe,” I think and stare into her eyes. “Are you actually jealous? You know I didn’t remember—”
“Bah.” Her lips twist. “Why should I be? After all, I’m literally a heartless AI. Why would you think it’s wrong to be attracted to someone else?”
“Phoe, I wasn’t myself.” I put my hand on hers, feeling the warmth of her skin. “More importantly, I don’t want Grace.” I think this with emphasis, doing my best not to blush at the extreme taboo of this topic. “If I did…” I inhale, unsure how to proceed. “If I decided to want anyone in that way, there’s no doubt in my mind it would be you.” As I subvocalize it, it occurs to me that this is how I really feel and that I was hiding this truth from myself.
Phoe looks uncertain, so I squeeze her hand and say mentally, “If you need my permission to scan my mind to prove I’m telling you the truth, go ahead.”
She gives me an unreadable look. Then, as suddenly as before, she kisses me, almost as though trying to catch me off-guard.
Not missing a beat, I kiss her back.
As we explore each other’s mouths, the kiss becomes an outlet for something else. Nervousness and tension leave my body, and a meditation-like trance comes over me as I focus on the way her lips affect me. My breathing becomes shallow, and I put my hand on her lower back, feeling the delicate curve of her spine.
“Look, Theo,” Phoe says, reluctantly pulling away. “I know I started this, but we really ought to stop. If they watch the recording of this room, they might wonder why you’re moving your lips and tongue like a crazy person. It’s an especially bad idea given that the neural scan they saw was a hot mess.”
Her words work as effectively as a cold shower.
“Did you open the door for me a moment ago?” I subvocalize, changing the subject. “And if so, why did you stop me from leaving?”
“No, I didn’t open that door.” She gives me a wide grin. “That was all you.”
“Me?” I subvocalize so loudly it almost comes out as a whisper. “But how? Did the female Guard—who must be Fiona—not lock it?”
“Yes, it is Fiona, and yes, she locked it all right. You just opened it anyway.”
“How? Only Adults can undo those types of locks.”
Phoe’s eyes are glowing. “And the Elderly.”
“Right,” I think. “What does that have to do with me?” A flash of insight hits me. “Wait a minute. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“When Birth Day started, I modified your age, like I told you I would.” She’s as excited as Liam after a prank. “As far as the back end of all the security systems in Oasis is concerned, you’re now ninety years old.”
I stare at her blankly. The implications are too far-reaching.
“I can open any door the Adults can?”
“Yes, and many, many more.” Phoe’s feet drum on the floor. “For example, the Adults can’t cross the boundary into the Elderly territory, but you can. You can pretty much go anywhere you want, as long as we overcome the minor problem of your youthful looks.”
“Yeah.” I chuckle nervously. “That itsy-bitsy problem.”
“I have an idea about that—a plan of sorts,” Phoe says. “If it works, you’ll be able to travel across Oasis without any issues. But before we talk about that, I have to show you something else, something way more urgent.” She looks distant for a fraction of a second. “Crap, they’re coming. We should continue this after they lead you out of here.”
“Lead me out?” I think and look at her with barely concealed hope. “Are they letting me go?”
Phoe looks at the door instead of answering.
The door opens.
A Guard is standing there.
“Theodore,” he says.
I get up.
I think this is Jeremiah, though his voice is hard to recognize through the helmet’s distortion. I can tell this isn’t Fiona, because the voice isn’t female and he’s taller than her.
“Follow me,” maybe-Jeremiah says and waves at me.
“He tried to soothe you again,” Phoe whispers as a voice in my head.
“I wish it worked,” I think, feeling my heart racing as I’m forced to walk swiftly to keep up with probably-Jeremiah’s angry gait.
“Looks like they won’t give me a Quietude despite all those things my mouth blabbed on about while I was under the Lens’s compulsion,” I think at Phoe.
“No,” Phoe replies. “They probably don’t care about such trivialities today. They’re focused on the investigation for the Envoy—the investigation I might ‘aid’ very soon. Also, they’ll likely make you Forget you ever saw them, which would make a Quietude odd, since you wouldn’t recall how you got into trouble.”
“Go,” the Guard says when we reach the outdoors. He waves toward the Birth Day celebrations in the distance. “Stay out of trouble.”
I immediately walk away, not needing to be told this twice.
Maybe-Jeremiah goes back into the building, presumably to get the others.
“Just as I thought,” Phoe says. “He tried to make you Forget everything that happened. Go somewhere private and do it quickly, unless you want to run into Liam, Grace, or Owen.”
I head for the nearest structure, which happens to be the cuboid Lectures building. Seeing it deserted might be interesting. This idea never came to me on prior Birth Days because there’s always too much other fun stuff to do.
Phoe is silent until I enter the building, walk into a Lectures Hall, and sit.
“Okay,” she says and brings up one of the giant Screens that Instructors sometimes use to put their notes on. “This is that urgent bit of information I mentioned earlier. Just don’t panic.”
I bet the words ‘don’t panic’ are among the most ominous phrases ever uttered, on par with ‘oh no’ and ‘this will only hurt a bit.’
On the Screen, I see the Dean’s room, only it’s just Jeremiah and Fiona there now.
“He’s just a Youth,” Fiona says forcefully. “Despite all the technology in the world, they sometimes have hormonal imbalances. You know what those things can do. Isn’t it why they’re kept separate? As a Youth, I once got my period despite all the preventative measures. My neural scan prior to that was—”
“Stop.” Jeremiah’s white-gloved hand covers his helmeted head as though he’s dodging a thrown object. “Are you trying to make me vomit?”
“It’s just biology,” Fiona says, but Jeremiah raises his hand, palm out, to stop her from speaking.
“I’m not aware of any natural reason his neural scan would look like that,” he says, lowering his hand. “He’s a male, so your disgusting little story doesn’t apply. However, I have seen scans of Youths and Adults who were deemed insane, and though his is slightly different from those, it’s similar enough that I still insist he be Forgotten, for the good of our society. He’s not violent yet, but that is where this usually leads.”
“Fine. We’ll talk to the Council, and together, we’ll decide.” She cracks her knuckles.
&n
bsp; “I don’t see the point in wasting our time with bureaucracy. We have an investigation to conduct and—”
“Have you ever Forgotten someone without formally clearing it with the Council?” Fiona places her hands sharply on her hips. “Because you asking me this makes me wonder—”
“Of course not,” Jeremiah says, a little too quickly and defensively.
“Then I don’t understand the necessity of bypassing proper protocols this time either,” she says, her tone cold and formal.
“Like I said, the reason should be obvious, and time is of the essence,” Jeremiah says. “We learned nothing in regards to our ultimate goal, and instead of needless Council deliberation, as two senior members, surely we can—”
“My vote would be against Forgetting him,” Fiona says, raising her chin. “I will say so at the Council meeting, should we have one. If you want to save time, we can easily agree to dismiss this matter, as we don’t need the Council for that. Otherwise, the whole Council will have to weigh in.”
“Fine.” Jeremiah’s posture is tense. “Theodore can wait. Let’s gather the Instructors and Mason’s more distant acquaintances.”
“Sounds good.” Fiona squares her shoulders. “I’ll get Filomena and George to start. Meanwhile, you let the children go. They’ve missed enough of the festivities because of your impatience, and until and unless we bring his neural scan to the attention of the Council, ‘they’ also includes Theo.”
Jeremiah storms out of the room without saying another word.
The Screen goes blank.
“Shit,” I whisper to Phoe. “Do you think they’ll take it to the Council? And if they do, how do you think they’ll vote?”
“I don’t know,” Phoe says. “Which is why getting me more resources is a matter of priority. With more resources, I should be able to figure out a way to manipulate the Elderly without risking exposure to the Envoy.”
I recall her talking about an idea she had, something to do with a very dubious-sounding Test the Adults take before they become the Elderly. Only then, her excuse for having me take the Test was to help her figure out where we are in the cosmos.
“I’m not denying that knowing our current location in space and time is an important task,” Phoe says, pursing her lips. “But I’m insulted if you’re insinuating your wellbeing is less important to me in any way.”
I realize I hinted at something like that, which is unfair to Phoe. She has literally been a lifesaver. Also, even if she is being a little self-serving when it comes to regaining her mental capacity, how can I blame her, especially after I just experienced Forgetting so intimately? Unsure how to verbalize any of this, I change the subject. “You said you could ‘aid’ in their investigation,” I say. “Can you tell me about that?”
“Ah.” She gives me an impish grin. “Remember that Keeper archive?”
“Yes.”
“When Jeremiah showed it to Fiona, he also, without meaning to, led me right to it.” She summons a chair and sits down. “Now I can plant this little pearl in there for him to find.”
The Screen comes to life with a grainy image of a Council meeting.
“Ladies and Gentlemen of the Council,” Fiona says in the recording. “Despite your vote, I urge you to reconsider.” Her eyes look sad. “You know I was against Theodore’s Forgetting.” She gives Jeremiah a seething look. “But this new turn of events—the torture of a Youth—”
“Questioning,” Jeremiah corrects. “Persuasive questioning.”
“Torture,” Fiona insists. “I find the very idea abhorrent. Why don’t you talk to the Envoy? There are other options when it comes to obtaining information. Perhaps the Lens of—”
“I will not bother the Envoy with this matter,” Jeremiah says, his eyes beaming wrath. “He would want me to present him with answers and results, not problems for him to solve. You choose to ignore the fact that this Youth has resisted Punish, Forgetting, and a slew of other technologies. Why would the Lens of Truth be any different?”
“Because—”
Phoe waves her hand to pause the video, stopping Fiona mid-argument.
“Don’t worry,” Phoe says. “What you just saw is not it. Quite the opposite. I will delete this part of the recording so thoroughly, even I won’t be able to find an echo of it ever again. I kept it to show you, so you’ll understand the context of what’s about to follow in the portion of the video I plan to use.”
“This recording is from two days ago, right?” I subvocalize. “It’s from that meeting you made them Forget?”
“Yes, it’s from that meeting,” Phoe says. “Fiona really was against them torturing you, as you saw. I recorded this because I wanted to know how they voted. Plus, I had some free time while you were in the IRES game. And now, my recording is about to pay big dividends.”
With a motion, she fast-forwards the video.
“This,” she says. “This is what I’ll cut out and stick in the archive.”
She resumes the video.
Fiona storms toward the exit, but before she reaches it, she turns around, gives every Council member a baleful glare, and says, “As of now, I formally resign as a member of this ruling body.”
The room comes alive with hushed murmurs and outraged whispers.
To Jeremiah, Fiona says, “Once I’m officially off the Council, I wish to Forget this latest decision… and I hope it eats a hole through the amorphous pit you call your conscience.”
Not waiting for anyone’s response, Fiona storms out of the room.
Phoe makes the Screen go blank again.
“Wow,” I subvocalize. “She quit the Council and told them off.”
“Yep. If I hadn’t made them Forget, it would’ve happened that way, but as is, they don’t remember her outburst. Once he sees this, Jeremiah might strongly suspect Fiona to be the person he’s looking for,” Phoe says triumphantly. “She has a strong motive. She basically told them she hates their guts. On top of that, she even said something about Forgetting.”
“Can’t she accuse him of faking this video?” I think.
“She could, but it would be reasonable for him to state that he doesn’t have the resources or capabilities to create something like that,” Phoe says, then gives me a thoughtful look. “I have to say, faking a video is a very interesting idea. It wouldn’t be much harder than manipulating Augmented Reality—”
“Okay,” I think in an effort to keep Phoe focused. “Even if everyone thought this video was real, I don’t see how it would help us.”
“Are you nuts? If Jeremiah has a suspect, he’ll stop looking for you. That aside, it’s the oldest trick in the world.” Phoe tilts her head. “We’re dividing and conquering them. While Fiona and Jeremiah fight each other, we’ll do what we need to do: the Test. The likeliest outcome of their fight will be Jeremiah reporting Fiona to the Envoy. From there, they’ll question Fiona with the Lens of Truth. The questioning will prove her to be innocent, except they might think she made herself Forget. Things will get complicated for them, which is great for us. Maybe Jeremiah will talk the Envoy into letting him question more Council members. He’s clearly itching to do that. If so, that will give us even more time. And if the Envoy relaxes enough to stop monitoring Jeremiah’s brain—which is likely—I can then deal with Jeremiah’s wish to get rid of you by using the resources I currently have. This is only a contingency on the off chance that you’re unable to stop the Test. If you succeed with the Test, we’ll have a ton more options.”
“I like that,” I think, mulling over her long explanation. “But what about Fiona? What will happen to her if they think she’s guilty?”
“If the Lens of Truth doesn’t clear her, you mean? I guess Jeremiah will grant her what she wanted anyway. He’ll kick her off the Council.”
“But—”
“Look, if you’re so concerned about her, I have this other idea based on something you said, but don’t worry about it for now.”
“Okay,” I think, feeling
a bit less like one of those ancient lambs going to the slaughter. “Tell me your plan. How do I take this Test?”
As Phoe outlines the start of her crazy plan, I rethink my sense of relief. If I were a lamb, I wouldn’t be just going to the slaughter; I’d be picking a fight with a wolf right before entering the slaughterhouse.
10
I walk back to the Birth Day celebrations. It takes me some time, but I finally spot the perfect group of people for what Phoe has in mind.
There, by a tent, the Dean and a few other people who work with him are speaking with professional tennis players.
As luck would have it, there aren’t many Youths around them. That’s good. I’d rather my peers not witness what I’m about to do, since word might reach Liam and I’d have a hard time explaining this to him—or anyone else, for that matter.
I confidently stroll to the middle of the dozen or so people.
They look at me curiously.
I inhale a good amount of air into my lungs.
The Dean seems on a verge of saying hello, but he never gets the chance to speak.
As loudly as I can, I say, “Fuck. Vagina. Shit.”
The silence that follows reminds me of the calm that preluded ancient storms. Even the distant sounds of music seem muted.
“I lost a bet,” I say to the petrified Dean. “Don’t worry. I’ll make my way to the Quietude building.”
As I walk away, I say every other obscene word I can think of. I do this at a much quieter volume than my introduction, but loud enough for the Dean to hear. After a few choice words, I find it surprisingly hard to keep this up. As I get farther away, I’m convinced I’ve repeated myself at least a couple times. Still, it’s not originality that counts, but the quality of the words. On a few occasions, I cheat by combining words I already mentioned with other forbidden and even mundane words, getting pretty creative with the combinations. Phoe is laughing so hard she’s holding her stomach, but she still manages to give me a few suggestions—words the Dean will probably have to look up in an anatomy book, if he isn’t too preoccupied with his wilting ears.