Big Brother's Little Sister

by Mike Bursell

  “No. And she was really open, too. I don't think it's fair to say everything, but it turns out that there are lots of people who are getting more and more unhappy about what's going on.”

  “So what are they doing about it?”

  “Not much. Mum seemed to think that in order for real change to happen, it'll need to be young people who start it off.”

  “Well, that's not a surprise.”

  “No. The surprise was who she seemed to think had the best chance of making anything happen.”

  “Who's that?”

  “Guess.”

  “Oh, I don't know: there's got to be loads of groups out there.”

  “It turns out there aren't. Apparently the only group the Government are really scared of is Floyd.”

  He was silent. “Oh.”

  “Yes. 'Oh.'”

  “Us Floyd?”

  “Well, you Floyd, but yes, I guess us.”

  “Oh.”

  “Nobody else?”

  “No-one she could think of. Apparently they really think that we're bigger than, well, just us, and that people might rally around Floyd and cause them a real problem.”

  “How would that work?”

  How much do I tell him about what I'm planning? I wondered. No secrets: if this is going to work, I have to include Mo. “I don't think it'll happen on its own. It's not as if we're actively recruiting.”

  “Well, I did suggest Kareem.”

  “And look where that would have got us.”

  He grunted in agreement. “Yeah, well, fair enough. So, what are we going to do?”

  "Well, I think my Mum's right: the only way this is going to work is if we mobilise young people. And I think you're right, too: there have got to be more people out there, more groups, who we could work with. We need to find out who they are, and what they're doing, so that we can get them to work together and really make a difference."

  "How are we going to do that?"

  "How am I going to do that, you mean? You've got a job. You're in charge of making the attacks happen, raising our profile, keeping us in the public eye and ensuring that the Government stays worried about us. You're clearly doing the right thing already, but we need to do more of it, so that when I do manage to find more people to bring on board, they're convinced that we know what we're doing, and are worth joining."

  Of course, massaging Mo's ego and making him feel important worked immediately, and he came right round to my point of view. "All right, what are you going to do, then? Where are you going to find people who'll talk to you about opposing the Government. All of them are either in hiding, or in Internment Camps."

  "And I'm not easily going to be able to find the people who are hiding out, am I, so ...?"

  "You're going to have to go to an Internment C... No way!" he nearly shouted. Knew he'd get there eventually.

  "Shh – quiet! But yup. It's the only way. I've been thinking hard about it, and it all works. Apart from getting out again - that's going to be the tricky bit."

  "You're insane!" he hissed, at least being a bit quieter this time.

  "I don't think so. I just need to work out how to get in and out again, and we'll have a plan."

  "Look, C: if you think I'm going to help you get into a Child Internment Camp, you've got another thing coming. There's just no way: have you heard what happens in ..." Just then, we were interrupted by a sound from Mo's end of the line which sounded like a doorbell. “Wait a mo,” he said. I could hear him moving around on his bed. “Uh-oh.”

  “What does 'uh-oh' mean?” I asked, worried. Surely the Enforcers couldn't have got to him already? But it didn't sound like that sort of an 'uh-oh'. He sounded worried, but not terrified.

  “Kareem's at the door!” he whispered. “And my mother’s just let him in!” Then I faintly heard a woman's voice – Mo's mum, I supposed – calling up to him. I couldn't hear quite what she'd said, but the next thing was Mo shouting down, “Er – OK, Mum.”

  “Quick!” he whispered, “Put yourself on mute!”

  Unsure what he was up to, I found the button on the receiver to mute me. “Can you hear that?” I asked, feeling a little silly, as if he couldn't, then he wouldn't say anything, of course.

  “Are you muted?” he said, which I took to mean that I was. I heard the sound of him putting the receiver down, and then the somewhat muffled sound of his opening his bedroom door.

  “Mo,” said a voice which I could just recognise as Kareem's. No – he's up in Mo's bedroom! What's he going to say? Do I need to get over there?

  Chapter 25 – It's a terrible plan

  “Um – Kareem. Come in.” I was trying to work out what Mo had done with the phone. I could hear him and Kareem fairly clearly, but it sounded a bit muffled. He'd presumably done something like put it down the side of his bed or behind a pillow, so that I could still hear what was going on, but Kareem shouldn't be able to see the receiver. I hoped he'd done a good enough job of hiding it.

  I could hear the sound of things being moved around the room. I'd never been into Mo's bedroom – obviously – but I supposed that he had to move some stuff around so they could both sit down. I had a weird moment where I wondered again what it was like, and whether he was the sort of boy who had a smelly, messy room, or whether he kept things tidy and clean. I really had no idea, and I realised that it was amazing how little I really knew about him. I had a vision of lots of computer stuff – old components, fans, keyboards, wires and the rest of it – all over the desk and hung up on the back of the door. Maybe he had some old sci-fi film posters on the walls, and even a lava lamp on a table by the side of the bed. I discovered that I really wanted to know: odd.

  I was pulled out of my reverie by the sound of what sounded like someone sitting on the bed.

  “So, Kareem...” said Mo.

  “Mo, I have something I need to tell you.”

  “To do with school?” I was impressed with his presence of mind. He seemed calm, and not at all panicked, which I was worried would have been his first reaction.

  There was a pause. I wish I could see them! I'd grown used to voice-only calls with Mo, but I knew him pretty well. I was missing all the visual cues you get from a video call which showed Kareem's body language and facial expressions.

  “Not really. I've done something terrible, and I want to warn you that you're in danger.” What's he saying? How come Kareem wants to warn Mo?

  “I'm what?”

  “In danger. You … and your colleagues.”

  “What do you mean? What colleagues?” There was silence for a moment as each seemed to will the other to speak next. “Seriously,” continued Mo, “I have no idea what you're talking about. What colleagues? And why would I be in danger?”

  I heard a sigh, presumably from Kareem. “I know about Floyd. I know you're part of Floyd.”

  “Ah.” Another silence. Mo kept his voice steady and emotionless: “And why am I in danger?”

  “You and your colleagues,” reiterated Kareem.

  “OK, let's go with me and any hypothetical colleagues that I might have.”

  I imagined Kareem nodding in agreement. “Because I've betrayed you.”

  That wasn't a word that I'd expected to hear. In fact, it was a very strange word indeed. It rather suggested that Kareem saw himself as on the same side as Mo. Which, by extension, meant that he saw himself on the same side as Floyd. And the opposite side to the one he thought I was on. Confusing.

  “What do you mean, 'betrayed'?”

  “I've told the Enforcers that you're part of Floyd.” He's told the Enforcers? I thought. Or does he just mean that he's told me?

  “You've what?”

  “I am sorry. It was ... weak, but I wanted to get home, away from here, and I thought … I thought that telling them would help me to get home. But it was wrong. I've been praying, and I've realised that what I did was wrong. I realised that I had to warn you.”

  Now Mo reacted. “Are they coming? How long have I
got?” I heard him getting up from the bed.

  “I don't think they are. I think you have time.”

  “I think you need to do some explaining.” The sound of Mo lowering himself down again.

  And so Kareem told Mo how he'd come to the conclusion that he was part of Floyd, and had then come to see me and told me his suspicions. When he explained that he'd only told me, and not gone to the Enforcers, I let out a long breath which I didn't know I'd been holding. What really confused me, though, was why he'd changed his mind and made what must have seemed to be a huge gamble by coming to Mo. As far as Kareem was concerned, he'd just gone directly against the Enforcers and the Government and now risked getting himself sent straight to a prison – he was too old for a Child Internment Camp.

  Once he'd finished his explanation, Mo was silent for a while. I wondered whether he was going to tell Kareem everything, but he didn't. Instead, he asked Kareem why he'd changed his mind and decided to ignore what I'd told him to do. I expected Kareem to take a while to respond, but he answered immediately: “Lena told me you'd go to an Internment Camp. For re-education. And I thought: 'what he's doing is right. He is trying to make a change, and stop what this Government is doing. I shouldn't be stopping him: I should be helping him.' I had been selfish, so I prayed to Allah, and decided that I should warn you, and ask for your forgiveness.”

  Mo waited for a moment before speaking. “Kareem: thank you. If you want my forgiveness, I give it to you.” Here was yet another side to Mo that I'd not seen before: he was being formal and sensitive, empathising with Kareem and giving him the support that he needed. They were quiet for a moment, and I wondered if they'd gone all touchy-feely and given each other a hug. No – there are limits. Mo may have changed, but not that much, I told myself.

  “How much danger do you think I'm in, Kareem?”

  “I think you and your colleagues – assuming that Lena is right, and you do have some ...” Kareem paused, clearly waiting for Mo to give him a clue, “... - are not in immediate danger. She told me to wait, and not do anything. From what I could gather, the Enforcers are in the middle of an operation and are waiting for something. I'm not sure what. She didn't tell me much.” Of course I didn't! I thought to myself. I was making it up as I went along. And then I had an idea.

  Normally, my ideas take some time to come, and I think them through and nurture them. On this occasion, there was no time. I dashed downstairs and picked up my mobile, and then ran back up to my room. I grabbed the receiver on the land-line to check that the boys were still chatting. They were: trying to work out what to do next. Hoping that Mo had his phone in his room, I quickly keyed in a message, and waited while I listened for a good point in their conversation before sending it to Mo.

  “... but if we don't know that they're sure about my being in Floyd,” Mo was arguing, “then surely we should wait.”

  “No – if you wait, they could get you at any time. You need to move, do something. Soon!” Kareem responded, urgently.

  As he said the last word, I pressed send, and before Mo had the chance to say anything in return, I heard his phone beep. I was enormously relieved that he'd not assigned a special tone for me which would have announced who'd sent the message: if he had, we would have been sunk. I heard him pick up his phone and look at the message, and then gasp.

  “What is it?” asked Kareem. “Who's it from.?

  Mo hesitated. “It's from … a colleague. It says 'Set up the girl.'” Phew! Mo was on a roll today: not only was he showing sensitivity and empathy, but he also had his intelligent, fast-thinking head on. What I'd actually sent was a message saying “Don't tell him about me. Tell him 'Set up the girl'. I have a plan: trust me! C.”

  “What does that mean?” asked Kareem, flustered. I quickly sent another message.

  Mo's phone beeped again. “'You must convince her employers that SHE is a member of the group',” he read out. Another beep, as I sent another message. He read out loud: “Tell Kareem that Floyd will protect him.” I'd actually written "Tell him the group will protect him", not mentioning his name or "Floyd" in order to be safer. Mo, however, was working out how to deal with Kareem very well.

  At this point, I could hear Kareem jumping up and knocking his chair back in panic. “How do Floyd know about me? How do they know that I'm here?”

  I was on the point of sending another message to give Mo some ideas about how to play this, but he was right on it, and didn't need any clues. "We keep in close contact, and monitor each other. One of my ... colleagues ... has been listening in to our conversation."

  I could imagine Kareem staring wildly around Mo's bedroom, trying to work out where the bug was.

  "You won't find it - it's hidden." Well, just barely, I thought.. "And it's all right, Kareem - we keep all of our communications very secure." Well, that's not entirely true, I thought to myself, because the messages I've just sent really weren't secure at all. What have I said? Anything dangerous or incriminating which the Government might have picked up on? I had a quick check on my phone, and was relieved that I'd decided not to use the word Floyd at all, in case the Government were checking everyone's phone messages. Which I was pretty sure they were. The more I thought about this, the more I realised that we had to be really, really careful about what we sent. I prepared and sent one more message: "Ask if he'll help. If yes, agree to meet tomorrow."

  Mo did as I'd suggested. Kareem was clearly flustered, but now that he'd decided whose side he was on, he was almost embarrassingly eager to help. I hadn't realised how much he'd been affected when I'd told him that Mo would probably end up in a Child Internment Camp, and how guilty that would make him feel. I now had the makings of a plan, and the problem was that it revolved around having Kareem getting me sent to a Camp. I'd need to work on him pretty hard to make him think I deserved it, I realised, and also to believe that he didn't have a choice: it was either me, or Mo.

  Once Kareem had gone, Mo picked the phone back up and wanted to talk some more, but I after taking the time to calm him down a bit, I hung up. I had to plan. And I couldn't risk his talking me out of it. I had a hot shower, listened to some loud music, and went to bed.

  I waited until the next evening before giving Mo a call and outlining the details.

  "You have got to be insane," Mo had said as soon as I'd picked up the phone.

  "I'm really not," I said. He'd looked really distracted throughout the day after Kareem had come round to his house, but I knew that there was a real risk of discovery if I allowed him to speak to me, so I'd avoided him. I knew that he'd want to speak to me as soon as I got home, but I left him to stew for over an hour and a half as I had a leisurely supper with Mum and did all of my homework. By the time I picked up the phone, he was ready to explode.

  "But you'll ... you'll get sent to a Camp or something."

  "I know. That's the plan."

  "Aaargh!" had been his only response. "That's so ...," he reached for the worst accusation he could think of, "...irrational!"

  "So like a girl?" I suggested.

  "No. Yes. No. I don't know. It's not like you, though."

  "So I'm not usually irrational? Not usually like a girl? Should I take that as a compliment?" In one way, I did, but in another, I was surprised to discover that it hurt a bit: doesn't he think of me as a girl, then?

  "You're impossible." He went into a sulk. I did like that, and it was so easy to beat him like this. So easy that it made me feel bad. Well, almost.