Class Zero

by Y A Marks

  I decided to take Northside Drive down to McDaniel and go up Whitehall Street and catch the train at the Garnet Station. The last thing I wanted was to even touch North Avenue.

  I walked out of the Stadium. The morning air slid through my hoodie and bit my skin. A few hovercars zipped down Northside, but nothing to be worried about. I exhaled and stole a few deep breaths. My eyes twitched back and forth with every sound and movement.

  I turned south to walk through the little garden area in front of the Stadium when I spotted a ten-foot-wide black metal dome resting in the grass. I didn’t remember ever seeing something like that anywhere, especially here. I took a side step without thinking and hesitated.

  A beam flashed across me. The bottom of my spine knotted.

  Low popping noises sounded off one by one as the ten locks released and slammed into the ground. The three circular rows that made up the body of the dome rotated. They spun around the base at their own speed and direction. A light whizzing reverberated around me.

  I fumbled back. Trembles took over my knees, hands, and chest. My mouth dried as six circular cameras aimed in my direction. A rumble echoed as the base dome rose with four hoverdiscs beneath it. Four paw-like objects slid out to the side, each with two hoverpads attached to the bottom.

  My insides tightened as my mind went blank. No, this couldn’t be happening. What was I going to do? I couldn’t get away from this monstrosity. This machine was created to obliterate.

  It was a scrapper, a police super robot that was only called in major incidents. I had only seen them on the monitors in the Stadium, never in person. They were lightning fast and vibrated back and forth in the air in a way that helped them avoid attacks. Unlike drones that just monitored population, scrappers enforced the law like androids or police officers.

  I couldn’t outrun or outthink this thing. I stared into my own demise. My heart tore at my ribs.

  A baritone voice filled the air. “Stay calm, citizen. You are in a barricaded zone.”

  I spun around and came face-to-face with another dome-shaped scrapper. I glanced up at the Stadium and three more faced me, looking down on me like gigantic spiders in some horrible horror film.

  I searched my mind for ideas—ways to escape. My arms instinctively went up and with them the scanner. For a moment I panicked, but my answer came to me. I slid the scanner into my left hand and ducked my head as far into my collar as I could, hoping to nullify as much of my own D-Tag as I could. Then I balled my right hand and separated my arms like I was complying with the law. I turned on the scanner and projected Mr. Cheater’s D-Tag.

  I couldn’t be sure if they wouldn’t pick up on my conflicting signals, but it was all I had.

  “This zone is barricaded. Return to the Stadium for filtering or present your filtering tag.”

  They didn’t seem to be reading my D-Tag, and they didn’t care. They wanted me to go inside and go through the human process of Filtering, which wasn’t good at all. Filtering meant the police would go through everyone in the Stadium one-by-one. Once they were sure we weren’t who they were looking for, they’d give us a blue and white tag to hang around our necks until the zone was cleared. This way, those of us who had work could leave the area and come back. Anyone who was suspicious would be incarcerated until the police determined the person was innocent. However, it was rare anyone ever came back from questioning.

  My legs weakened. Dozens of hard swallows rolled down my throat. I couldn’t be taken into custody. I had no real alibi for last night. It’d be difficult for me to explain how I’d been making enough money to live in the Stadium or to take care of two kids. I didn’t have a way to explain any of it. I had to think. I had to come up with a plan.

  I nodded to the scrapper. With my hands high, I jogged back toward the entry doors. Once there, I lowered one hand, opened the Stadium’s door, and slid back inside. My hands stayed above my head until the scrapper folded itself back into digital hibernation.

  Collapsing to my knees, my hand knotted inside my shirt. My breath pulsed from my mouth. The scrappers didn’t frighten me as much as the humanoid androids, but they contained ammunition that I had seen rip a person to shreds in less than three seconds. I had to assume that because I wasn’t arrested and wasn’t dead, the police didn’t know who I was.

  I went back into the arena area and decided to walk up the stairs into the nose-bleed section. Few people slept up there, and it would give me more time to think.

  After I was settled, I put my backpack over my stomach so I could sit comfortably. A few older folks woke up and gave me sleepy smiles.

  Everyone on the field appeared tiny, but even so I could still make out a few people by the way they moved. It was more evident to me now that I needed to walk and gesture differently if I wanted to get out of this. I spotted Mari and Miko still asleep, and Ms. Cooper stretched awake near them. The roof rattled with the thunderous flybys of the scrappers outside of the building.

  The roof opened, expanding like a giant iris right over the digital Halo LCD screen. The sky shown dark blue with just a few, sparkling stars, barely bright enough to be seen with the dawn. A scrapper whizzed down into the building. I didn’t understand why that was happening, but I could only guess someone important wanted some heavy firepower inside.

  A group of thirty bodies strode onto the field area with the confidence of police. A movement off to my right drew my eyes to a police officer and his android companion. They walked into the bleachers near me, just a dozen or so rows down. The police on the field spread out to clear a path for someone. Another figure walked onto the field, but this person was alone, unlike all the others who were paired. The figure pulled out some objects and threw them up. Four tiny things shot over the floor and flew high into the air. Once they were all positioned, they began howling with the most unpleasant sound I had ever heard. It was a simple three note melody of Do, Re, Mi, Re, Do. The sound was played in such a horrid key and intensity, I slammed my hands over ears and wished for the sound to cease.

  The tiny, screaming things flashed blue and white lights for at least sixty seconds before they formed a gigantic square hologram of the person who released them. Every eye in the building focused on the hologram of a thin, black woman in her mid-fifties hovering six stories above the field. Her skin color was slightly darker than pinewood, and her hair was pulled back into a bun over her left ear. She held two manicured fingers to her ear as she walked forward.

  “Attention residents,” she said. “I am Captain Teresa Davis of the Georgia Police Force. I’m sorry to disturb you this morning. I know many of you may have jobs to go to, and I wanted to make this as painless as possible. Last night, we had what we call a Level One event in which a group of individuals attacked a security drone over the city. We are here in three capacities: one, to make sure none of the people responsible are living here, two, to record those who live in this facility, and three, to gather information on any suspicious activity any of you have seen.”

  Capt. Davis turned to someone standing near her. The person said something, and she nodded in agreement. The hologram changed to a different video feed. It was me and the Gray-Eyed Fox talking on the street.

  My muscles, organs, and blood froze into ice.

  CHAPTER 10

  I forced myself not to look around. The last thing I needed was someone to notice me. If they had never seen me, they may not recognize me. If it wasn’t for the way I moved on the screen, I wouldn’t have known myself.

  “This video was recorded less than a mile from here,” Capt. Davis said. “We do not know who these two individuals are, but two police officers were attacked less than three blocks away. If either one of these individuals is here, it is your duty as citizens to turn them in to us for processing. We believe they could be armed and dangerous.”

  My mind scrambled to all the people who knew me well: Ms. Cooper, Mr. Palmer, Mari, and Miko. What were they thinking about me right now? Did they think I was dangerous?
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  Capt. Davis thinned her eyes as she glanced around at the quiet drove of Stadium inhabitants. “I have been authorized by the governor to offer 500 credits via temp-fob to anyone who has any information about the two individuals on the screen.”

  The video replayed the images of me and Gray-Eyed Fox. The feed zoomed and enhanced. My face appeared blurry, but my movements were unmistakable. Anyone who had seen me before could easily ID me. I guessed that in a city with lots of teenagers with backpacks, it was hard for the police to find a person based on the way I walked or stood. I only had a few minutes to cover my identity as much as possible. I might need to go through the Filtering so at least I could be prepared.

  Crix that Gray-Eyed Fox. I wanted to strangle him.

  “We will have checkpoints on each floor. Please find a line and allow yourself to be Filtered. It should only take thirty seconds or less. We thank you for your cooperation,” Capt. Davis said.

  Her tiny figure left the field, but the message looped high above us. I guessed the video would continue until they filtered and tagged all forty thousand of us.

  My back sunk deep into the seat. I needed to think, but my mind was jumbled because my heart wouldn’t stop racing. It took everything I had not to scream into my backpack and start crying. I was better than this. I had survived for two whole years. I basically raised myself on the street. I had seen dead bodies of people older than me who didn’t have the wisdom to know how to survive. I had seen drug dealers and prostitutes get killed over petty things. I watched mothers leave their kids and never return home. I made it through all of that. I could make it through this.

  All of the exits flashed through my mind: the front doors, the side doors, the exits to the train system, and the boiler room exit. I contemplated hiding for a few days within the building, but if they had strong scanners, they’d sniff out my D-Tag. The police didn’t have to follow any protocols with me. They could torture me to death just to find out about Gray-Eyed Fox.

  Two people a few rows away from me got up from their cots and began walking through the aisles to the stairway that led to the ramp. They headed for the main hallway. I had no choice but to leave the seats. I needed to find a way to disguise myself.

  My lungs expanded as I forced the deepest breath of my life. I left the arena area and followed the hallway around, turning knobs on doors until one clicked. I slid into a room that used to be a food vendor. Happy’s Hot Dogs was painted above the long, metal roll-up door. I used an adjacent door to enter and disappeared inside.

  Boxes were everywhere, but there was enough room for me to fit. I took my backpack off and rummaged through my stuff until I found my mirror, knife, and flashlight. I pushed one of the stacked boxes back just enough to have a tiny space to put my mirror. Then, with the flashlight in my mouth, I cut off six inches of my hair.

  I ran scenarios in my head of what else I could do. There was no way I could pass for a guy, because they would want to speak to me directly, and any fake mustaches would make me look guilty. I couldn’t color my hair because I didn’t have the time or the dye. I couldn’t bind my breasts and stuff my pants to give my body a different shape, because I could be frisked. I’d have my work cut out for me just trying to stay calm. I didn’t need to worry about lying.

  I put some eye shadow on to try to look a bit different and decided to walk like a hunchback when I left. At least my silhouette wouldn’t be the same. I put my gear back into my backpack and left the room. Instinctively, my hands flew up to the shoulder straps, but I stopped myself and stuffed my hands into my pockets. Looking different from a distance would be important.

  My best bet was to mingle in with everyone else and hope for an inept police officer. I had never seen one before, but I didn’t have many options. I hunched over as far as was reasonable and faked a limp.

  On the third-story hallway, hundreds of homeless folks formed three lines toward the escalator which would allow them to access the second floor. This way, the police could keep us from skipping levels and make the group easier to contain.

  Without making broad movements, my eyes roamed as I got in line. Was there anyone who could recognize me? I didn’t usually come to the third level, I mainly stayed on the first level above the field, but everyone ate at one of the three designated areas. So someone could have easily seen me before.

  After twenty minutes, no one had recognized me. I reached the front of the line and a thirty-something cop rolled his eyes.

  “Step forward and state your name,” he said, expressionless.

  I forced the lump in my throat down and said, “Paeton Washington.”

  He held up a scanner. Trying to keep my fingers from vibrating, I tugged on my collar to make sure he got a good scan. The quicker I got this over with, the better. Capt. Davis didn’t know my name, otherwise why would she need to filter everyone in the Stadium? The police could go to the general manager and search the records, or simply ask if anyone knew me by saying my name. That information didn’t ease my fears or remove the doubt cracking inside my chest.

  The officer rolled his tongue in his mouth, and squinted at his computer. My skin prickled, and sweat slid over my temples. He tapped a few buttons. His face moved closer to the screen. He glanced at me and then back at the screen, back to me then back to the screen. He repeated this several times. At this point, my stomach bled open, and acid poured into my legs. I forced down a glob of thick slimy fear that grew in my mouth and pressed my palm against my knee to steady it. Mind buzzing, I spied around, trying to come up with another plan.

  “Paeton,” he said, holding up his hand.

  I glanced down to the computer screen and saw him drag a red icon over my name. My insides cracked into tiny pieces. The icon blinked and transformed into an X. Air palpitations blasted my lungs.

  “I’m placing a warning on your file. You need to go the courthouse and get a new picture of yourself taken in the next ninety days. The one you have on file is seven years old,” he said.

  I stared at him, stunned by his words.

  He turned the monitor around. An old photo of me when I was nine smiled back.

  “Pictures are to be taken at ages ten, thirteen, sixteen, twenty-one, and thirty. Don’t let this happen again.”

  My knees buckled, and I yanked my body backward to keep from falling over. My eyes enjoyed two long blinks. It was over. I was safe. “Uh, y-y-yes, sir. I’m sorry.”

  He rolled his eyes again. “Next.”

  I stepped onto the escalator. My fingers vibrated so rapidly, I could barely put the blue tag around my neck. My heart rumbled, and I forced my breath out in long exhales trying to calm myself. I couldn’t believe it. I was in the clear. All I needed to do was get to the first floor and get away from here.

  I leaned back on my heels and let the mild vibrations of the escalator massage my spirit. My heart calmed while my eyes focused through the windows toward the rising sun and blue freedom outside.

  Before I could reach the second floor, the escalator stopped and red flashing lights stretched and contracted around me. I turned around, and the officer I had just spoken to was looking over his computer screen while taking quick glances at me. I checked the screen. The picture of me at nine was right next to the grainy picture of me on the street.

  The android next to the officer turned toward me and belted in a loud voice, “Citizen Paeton Washington, please return for questioning.”

  My heart rumbled in my chest. My ears drowned out the world only allowing me to hear the screeching fear increasing in my mind.

  I spun my head around and one by one the monitors in the stadium blinked to life, each one displaying my name, my nine-year-old picture, and the grainy street scene.

  This couldn’t be real. I was okay. This was supposed to be over. Frustration tightened around my head. My heart and lungs punched each other inside of me.

  I dashed down the escalator, pushing seven people aside. The next best option was for me to run along the second
floor and maybe make a jump toward one of the steel beams that held up the building. I had seen kids do it all the time. I had never tried it, but it was that or jail.

  By the time I’d gone twenty feet, Ms. Roller-Eyes stomped around the corner. Behind her were two cops, one android and one human. The android cop had a firm grip on Mari and Miko’s wrists.

  “There she is, Officer, just like I said.” Ms. Roller-Eyes pointed at me with her crooked fingers. Her gaze let me know that she was paying me back for every cat joke I had ever made.

  Tears burst from my eyes, and the world around me faded away into a sea of red. A searing pain shot through my body and oozed out of my pores. I ran directly into Ms. Roller-Eyes, screaming in a way I had never done before in my life. With one strike, she fell back. She slid into the human cop’s knees, and he tumbled over her. I recoiled backward as they fell into a tangled pile.

  I couldn’t believe she would turn me in. Why would she do that? Why would she hurt me that way? We didn’t get along, but she had to know the dangers. The government wasn’t friendly. They didn’t protect Lower-Cs. They let us rot either on the street or in jail, even if we hadn’t committed a crime.

  The human cop reached out with his arms and grabbed my legs. I kicked back and reached out for Mari.

  Mari cried out to me, “What’s going on, Paeton? What’s happening?”

  The human cop scrambled up, grabbing my wrists. I yanked my arm back, but his grip was too strong. I tugged, wiggled, and strained. I couldn’t stop. I wasn’t even me.

  The human cop reached his feet and dragged me away from Mari and Miko, toward one of the ramps that led back into the arena area of the Stadium. I screamed and watched Ms. Roller-Eyes stumble back to her feet. She was shaky, but unharmed. It seemed so unfair for her to be virtually scratch-free while I would be facing jail and possibly death.

  “Why can’t you leave us alone!” I yelled to the cops and Ms. Roller-Eyes. “Leave us alone!”

  The android cop yanked Mari and Miko backward and walked toward the checkpoint, while several human cops strode in my direction. The kids turned around, jerking side to side as the android forced them away from me. Tears streamed down their faces onto their reddened skin.