by Hannah Ross
"You mean to say," Jordan said, his color rising, "that a group of miserable people is going to be held here as free labor force, under the eye of some jailers?"
"Look, Mr. Hurst," Landman said, his shoulders slumping a little. "You ask hard questions, and I'm really not the right person to give you the answers. It is simply outside the scope of my competence. I know my limits. I know I am not indispensable, and if the corporation isn't happy with my work, I might soon find myself unemployed. You, being a high-rank official, might afford to stir up the mud, but not I."
Jordan blushed, realizing how much, in fact, he was like Bernie Landman. He might have a fancy office and a secretary, and his salary might be five times greater, but at the bottom, he was just the same – an efficient tool working faithfully for the enrichment and expansion of the Van Wullen Corporation.
"Working in Zone C isn't just risky, it's unsustainable," he said. "Every resident, even every visitor, would have to wear a protective suit at all times. Things like showering and going to the bathroom are going to be complicated projects. And these suits don't last forever, either. It's just too damn expensive."
"I don't believe that the Illegals are going to get protective suits," Landman said matter-of-factly. "The supervisors will, of course, but giving them out by the dozen would be too expensive. And it's not like the Illegals avoid polluted areas to begin with."
Jordan blinked. He couldn't believe his companion was able to say this while keeping his countenance. "Do you see any people around here in Zone C, Mr. Landman? Any signs of human habitation?"
Landman had the good grace to look abashed. "Well... no."
"Do you know why? Because nobody would have survived here long enough to leave signs, and the cross-Boundary settlers damn well know it. The Wild Children lack resources, not brains."
"But I don't suppose anyone will spend any length of time here," Landman said. "This is to be a... a transitionary camp, I surmise. The men will be driven here, and just asked to... to help out with the mining, while they wait for the Registration process to be completed. Don't... don't you think so?" A hint of uncertainty appeared in his eyes for the first time.
Jordan didn't answer. He turned aside and bent over his notepad under the pretext of writing something. His vision was blurred by tears of shame. They're really going to do this. They're going to take people here, to this vile, deathly place where I wouldn't keep my enemy's dog for an hour, and literally work them to death. And they're going to get away with it because they're rich and powerful, and keep the government in their pocket. Because they can afford to buy thousands of mindless drones to do their work for them, like Landman here. Like me.
I can't do this anymore. I've strained the boundaries of my conscience for too long, afraid to disappoint Allie and hurt the children's prospects and vex Glenn, and harm my career. But this is the red line. I cannot cooperate with what will essentially be slow, cold-blooded murder. I'm going back, telling Allie, and handing in my resignation the next day.
"Call the driver, Mr. Landman. I think I've seen enough."
Both men were silent during the ride back. Jordan pretended to be immersed in some charts and calculations to avoid talking. After depositing Landman back at his work site, he asked the driver to drop him off at Resurrection.
"Don't you want me to take you back to the Boundary, Mr. Hurst?" the driver asked with some surprise.
"No. I have some business in Resurrection Town, but that's no reason to detain you. I'll get another car from there."
Once he was alone in Resurrection, Jordan looked around at the narrow, but lively streets of the little pioneer town. I haven't been here for a while, but I remember where Kate and Tony live. It's time to do what I've been avoiding for much too long.
He would knock on his sister's door. Sharing the classified information he just witnessed was an unforgivable breach of his contract, but he didn't care anymore. Kate would understand. Kate would support and approve his decision to resign. And, to be honest, right now I need all the support I can get.
* * *
They were sitting in Kate's cozy kitchen on the outskirts of Resurrection Town. The house was quiet, Tony having gone out with the kids.
"They're really going to do this, Kate." Jordan clasped his hands around his coffee cup to keep them from trembling.
"You look shocked, Jordy." She placed a hand on his arm, looking sympathetic and skeptical at once.
"I am. I mean, I always knew the corporation cared more about profit than anything else, but I thought there were limits to what they were capable of. Some basic restrictions of... I don't know… decency? Humanity?"
"There are none with them. I could have told you that years ago."
"I guess I made myself bury my head in the sand because it was so convenient. A life all safe and mapped out. A nice salary. A position in society. I was too weak to resign, Kate, but I'm going to do that now."
Kate stared into the depths of her cup for a long moment. "No," she finally said, "you can't do that."
"Of course I can. I can and I will. Allie won't be happy, but she'll have to understand. And with my experience, I'll have no difficulty in finding another position, maybe one less lucrative, but one that won't make me feel like I'm selling my soul every day of my life."
"No, Jordan. You don't understand. Right now, we have no actual proof of what they're doing. We haven't caught them red-handed, and we aren't anywhere near thwarting their plans. Our only chance to do that, to place them in a spotlight of public scrutiny and stop this evil program, would be to have an insider who passes us all the information."
It took a moment for this to sink in. "And you... you expect me to do that? Who are us anyway?"
"A network of people, some of them pretty important, who are determined to steer the White Tower away from its current course. You have the chance to be a part of this, Jordan. You have access to maps, documents, official statements, I know you do. Distancing yourself from the evil is no longer enough. You must choose a side, and I hope you'll choose to do what's right."
He gave a slight, almost imperceptible jerk of the head, and his eyes widened with fear. "If I'm caught..."
"You'll be in major trouble, I won't deny it. I know you must have signed all sorts of secrecy clauses. But Jordy, think of all the injustice done in a cold, methodical way over so many years. Think of all the lives that were torn apart. Of our parents and Ben."
He swallowed the last of his coffee and nodded. "Alright. Suppose I'm going to do this. How do I go on from here?"
"For now it's business as usual. You go back to the office..."
"... And tell Glenn that I found everything to my satisfaction? He'll suspect. I've always made his life difficult about pollution levels."
"Then by all means criticize your findings. Just avoid creating a scandal that will get you kicked out of the office, or make them keep you away from crucial data. Act as natural as possible and collect information. Above all, be discreet. I'll give you a number you can call safely, as long as you make sure your phone isn't bugged."
* * *
When Jordan showed up at work two days later, briefcase in hand, wearing a crisp ironed shirt with a striped tie, it was impossible to recognize in him the shaken and insecure man who looked upon Zone C with a rising horror. He appeared smooth, confident and alert, if not exactly cheerful.
"Morning, Mr. Hurst," Ruth greeted him, coming out of her office and carrying a sheaf of official-looking documents. "Welcome back."
"Thanks, Ruth. Will you please tell Mr. Marshall that I'm back at the office?"
Glenn appeared genuinely satisfied to see him back. "It's good to see you, JT. I expected you yesterday. It was quite a strange business, you staying in Resurrection Town for the night."
"Yes, it wasn't something I planned in advance," Jordan knew better than to lie. "I just thought that since I was in the area, I might as well visit my sister. I hadn't seen her in a while."
Glenn looke
d faintly surprised. "I didn't know your sister lives out there."
"She and her husband were struggling pretty bad here, couldn't afford a decent place to live no matter how hard they tried."
Glenn shook his head in sympathy. "Yes, the housing prices are challenging if one doesn't have a nice nest egg. I don't suppose your sister and brother-in-law are very well-to-do?"
"No. Kate never much cared for material things. She's a social worker. Tony, my brother-in-law, he teaches math and programming."
Glenn made a sound that was very much like pffft. "Yes, well, I can imagine. But settling across the Boundary is a bit of a desperate measure, don't you think? Not many respectable people live there."
Jordan was glad Glenn didn't inquire about his parents' retirement, nor suspected the existence of a younger brother who grew up as a wildling.
"But tell me about the expedition, JT. I can't imagine you've had time to write the report just yet."
"No, not yet. I'll get to it today, I think."
"How did it go? Did you see the Registry facilities?"
Jordan frowned, feigning an expression of mild professional interest. "Yes, I did. Do you know quite well where all the intended camps are located?"
"Out there," Glenn said vaguely.
"And the living conditions in them?"
"Living conditions?" Glenn sounded uncomfortable. "That isn't any of our business, is it? We're dealing with pollution markers."
"One of the camps I saw was in Zone C," Jordan pointed out.
"Was it? I… I wasn't aware of that. I'm sure there has to be, uh, a very good reason."
"Yes, some mines in the vicinity with a great potential for profit."
Glenn gave a long, exasperated sigh. "So what are you saying? That the department can't give its approval to the camps? Do you realize that the Registry…"
"I think that if the Van Wullens are made aware of the inhuman conditions in the camps, they might push for an adjustment. The White Tower can certainly afford to give the newly registered folk some decent living space."
"But if we make everyone's life difficult on this account, they'll tell us, and rightly so, that this isn't any of our business."
"Fine. How about sending people to Zone C? How are we supposed to give the all-clear to a camp that would mean slow death for its inmates? Is that what our department's work is about?"
A shade of insecurity passed over Glenn's meaty face. "We might have misunderstood something. That place might not be part of the regular program, but just something... experimental. And temporary. Yes. That must be it."
You don't really believe that, Glenn. Jordan shook his head. He realized he could not make his friend fight the same battle, though. Glenn was too firmly established in the steady and prosperous world of the upper class. He had no ambition higher than to rub shoulders with Andrew Van Wullen at a cocktail party, and have a snapshot of this appear in the social section of The Urban Observer. He wasn't a bad man, but he liked his comfort. Much as I do, though I don't like to admit it. But there are things more important than comfort. I knew it once, but somehow, over the years, I forgot. It's time to shake myself awake before it's too late.
5
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Ben walked out of the cow-shed, carefully carrying a full pail of milk. He would strain and chill it later today and Mac or someone else from the Eagles' camp would come to pick up most of it.
Ben only needed a little milk for himself and didn't have enough patience to make cheese and butter like Priscilla did.
He sighed, chiding himself for his melancholy. It was unmanly to feel so lost just because his wife went away for a long-overdue visit to her family. He couldn't help it, though. Things were lonely around the homestead without her and Ian. Not that he didn't have enough to do to keep his hands full. There was the livestock and the garden to tend, firewood to chop, home repairs to take care of. He also busied himself with a project he long wished to find time for – using the planks he cut last year to enlarge the front porch. There were many spots in the forest around them that were quite overgrown and could do with some thinning.
He finished taking care of the milk and washed his hands. Though they lived in the cabin for five years now, the convenience of water coming straight out of the tap didn't cease to make him feel spoiled. With running water and solar-powered lights and a flushing toilet, their cabin was a marvel of luxury compared to how he lived before his marriage, in the camp in the abandoned city, and then on the rustic farm he and his friends reconstructed and expanded. With a wistful smile he remembered Priscilla's indignation at the notion they might just set up an outhouse. He could still hear her.
No, Ben! I'm ready to rough it, but I have my limits.
Even with all these improvements and conveniences, there was still more than enough work around the house and garden to keep him busy during the day, but the evenings were lonely. He missed the way Priscilla's head nestled against his shoulder as they relaxed together in front of the fire. He missed Ian's gurgling laughter and the way he cooed and babbled and splashed around in the large metal tub Priscilla filled with warm water.
The bed in the sleeping loft was much too large for him alone so he took to sleeping on the couch since Priscilla left.
All of a sudden, Ben perked up, listening. He heard the noise of an engine, and assumed it could only be Sidney and Elisa, whose homestead was not too far off, and who sometimes dropped by for a surprise visit, though, to be honest, it happened less frequently since their twins were born.
The car, however, was not Sidney's. As he squinted ahead, Ben recognized his parents' battered pickup, and his heartbeat quickened. As the car stopped, his mother was followed out by Priscilla, who passed little Ian to his grandmother and ran to him, waving and smiling. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I see you haven't shaved since I left."
"I meant to, honest, but you surprised me before I had the chance. I wasn't expecting you for at least another week."
"Well, I'd say I've been gone long enough, don't you think?"
"Yes." He took the baby from his grandmother's arms and tickled him until he squealed. "More than enough."
"Something to drink and a little snack before you go, Rebecca?" Priscilla asked.
"Alright, then, just a quick one. I really want to make it out of the forest before it gets dark. My, I see you've done a neat job on the front porch, Ben! Did you see this, Prissy? It's twice as large as it used to be. Now you can actually relax in a rocking chair without its back hitting the cabin wall."
"Yes, it's quite nice. I guess I should take vacations more often." Her eyes twinkled. "Now, Ben, put on the kettle and dig out something to eat with the tea. Your Mom and I are starving."
After Rebecca went home, and little Ian, fatigued from the journey, was put to bed, Ben took his wife's hand and asked, "How did your visit go?"
"It was... you know, alright."
"You don't seem alright, Pris. Is your father in a very bad way?"
"Yes, but I expected that. It's something else, Ben. Something I don't quite understand."
Ben frowned in concentration as he listened to her tale. "It's difficult to make sense of this. What do you think they want?"
"I don't know, Ben. But one thing is clear. They used to think there was nothing worth having outside the Boundary, and now they realize there might be valuable resources here. It was only a matter of time before they reached out for something new to exploit."
"You think they might be after our lands?"
"I really don't know, Ben." She sounded fretful. "I hope I'm reading too much into this, but it all sounds very fishy. The talk of reforms. And Ned's recommendation you apply for citizenship."
"Yes... well, at any rate, it doesn't look like there is too much we can do right now. Let's wait it out and see."
It was an easy enough decision to make. "Yes, let's wait and see."
* * *
The family settled int
o their old routine. Ben worked in the garden, split firewood, and milked the cow. Priscilla put the house in order, made cheese and churned butter. Little Ian cooed and giggled and crawled, and attempted to take his first steps, clutching the furniture or his parents' legs for support. It was spring, and things were busy around the household, and for a while Ben and Priscilla had the blissful yet illusory feeling that nothing could mar the perfection of their private little corner of the world.
* * *
One fine day they heard the hooves of two horses, and soon saw the animals themselves.
"I think they're from the camp!" Priscilla said, excited to have company.
The Eagles' camp was no longer what it used to be. Most of the families with children moved to houses of their own, and there were no fresh outcasts being bundled out together by the orphanages. Still, the camp was a convenient base for young and single people, voluntary Boundary-crossers, and some families who liked to live in communion with others. Gabby declared she would never leave, as the farm was too much of a home for her. Mac, her man, was forced to go along with this, though he was solitary by nature and would rather they build themselves an isolated homestead.
The young people riding the horses were Mac and Gabby's two eldest children – Darren and his sister Jill. Darren, a great strapping fellow, was nineteen now. It made Ben feel old to think he remembered the young man as a toddler clutching his mother's pant leg.
"Hey there, Uncle Ben," Darren said. "The place looks mighty fine. Much better than last time we visited. The door is actually straight on its hinges now!"
"I hope you had a good ride," Ben said, knowing better than to let the youngster tease him.
"An excellent one," Jill assured him. "How Ian has grown! What do you feed him, Prissy? Come to me, Ian. Come to Aunt Jill and let me snuggle you for a bit."
Jill's mane of light brown sun-streaked hair, wide-set sea-green eyes, and brilliant smile were such that no man between fifteen and seventy could ignore her. Though Ian had only a vague memory of her last visit, he crawled towards her and grabbed a fistful of the lush soft hair that framed her face. Jill laughed and tickled his stomach, and the baby giggled.