by JM Butcher
“What does that even mean?!” I say. I’ve been hearing this all week—that the Tara Gordon is a heroic Transgressor. I know nothing about this. I’ve never heard anything about this. How can they know so much about her? “What has she done that’s so incredible?”
“You will know soon enough,” Jack assures me.
Hayden looks at me. It’s a concerned, yet comforting look. “We are going to approach this slowly for now. Just to give you a taste, Kay will put up snippets of one person’s night thoughts. If things get scary or too overwhelming, we’ll stop the upload. It will be okay.”
“Are you ready?” Jack asks.
I hold on to Hayden for a few more seconds. I look up. “And you’ll be here next to me? You won’t leave me?”
“I’ll be right here,” Hayden says. “I’ll be holding your hand the entire time.”
I smile. “I’m ready, Jack. But do you really have to strap me down?”
Hayden answers for him. “Some of what you see might be difficult, especially since you haven’t had to deal with such thoughts and emotions. We need to keep you as still as possible. I’ll be right here.”
I sigh. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Makayla says, “Okay, this first one will be the night thoughts of a 14-year old girl from upstate New York. She’s had recurring thoughts every night for the past year. These thoughts are from about two weeks ago. That’s all I can tell you about her.”
I climb onto the chair. Jack straps in my right arm and leg, and Hayden straps in my left arm and leg. A seat belt also is locked around my waist. The choker is applied. It isn’t connected around my neck or forehead, but rather around my eyes. The metal spike-shaped objects fit into my ears to keep the restraint in place.
The thinking cap is lowered over my head. Here we go.
Hayden puts his hand on top of mine and lightly squeezes it. I squeeze back, a much tighter squeeze.
Nothing happens at first, except for a constant twitching in my eye. It’s a twitch different from what I’m used to. My entire eye vibrates and the fly behind my eye buzzes faster than it ever has before. The spikes in my ears feel cold. The buzzing may be coming from there and not my eye. Probably both.
When the thoughts begin to transfer into my brain, I can hear the girl’s voice. Or someone’s voice. It’s soft and soothing, not too high and not too low—like a voiceover narration during a flashback in a romantic comedy film.
Maybe my thoughts will be different tonight. I don’t remember having too many last night. I slept good for a change.
Don’t think about them tonight.
I’m so stupid. Ah. Why did you think about not thinking about them? That’s going to make you think about them. So stupid. Haven’t the doctors taught you anything?
It must be the girl’s voice. This is so real. She’s thinking to herself, but I pretend she’s addressing me. I’d feel guilty if I’m merely eavesdropping. Yes, she’s addressing me and sharing her deepest, darkest secrets with me like Hayden did at the baseball stadium.
Did I care about them as much as they cared about me? Obviously not.
No, I did. I told them to let me get it. I told them. The chip wasn’t going to bother me. It was my fault I failed the Exam. I’m the disturbed one. I’m Unfavorable. Not them. The chip is for my own protection. I told them that.
I deserved to be chipped.
But no. “No, Sophia. There’s no way your mother and I are letting those crooks put that piece of metal in you. There’s no way!”
Sophia. Her name is Sophia.
In my mind, Sophia has blonde hair. Short blonde hair. Shoulder-length. It’s been French braided into pigtails. One of the braids digs into her head a little bit as it presses onto her pillow. Her eyes are shut as she tries to sleep. I picture a dimple on one of her cheeks, like me.
I hope she falls asleep soon.
Go to sleep. The Keepers will be in here again soon. I can’t take another black eye. My ribs hurt. They’ll do it again.
Sleep!
I imagine that Sophia clutches her chest. She pulls her pink night shirt up to check out the fresh bruising on her lower ribs. She can’t detect anything. It’s dark and her left eye is swollen from the Keepers, whoever they are.
She must be in a Juvenile Unfavorable Home. I’ve heard a little about JUHs. Unfavorables who don’t have parents, or whose parents don’t want them anymore, land in those homes. From Sophia’s perspective, the home is more like a prison.
I try to visualize what the home looks like, but I can’t. I can only picture Sophia on a stiff cot, forcing her eyes shut to avoid more abuse.
Stop complaining, Sophia! So stupid. So selfish. You have it easy. A bruised rib here; a black eye there. Better than broken bones and missing teeth.
Break my bones. Knock out my teeth. Then I’ll stop complaining.
Mom, Dad? Are you watching me complain? Are you dead?
I hope you’re dead and in heaven, instead of being tortured in a prison.
Then, you can watch over me.
Please watch over me. Like you did before.
You didn’t watch over me, though. You could have.
You let yourselves get arrested. For me, but not for our family. You knew they’d chip me anyway. Why’d you fight them?
The Keepers have to be making their rounds one last time. Maybe they won’t come in here this time.
Please don’t.
They chipped me anyway. You knew they would. You knew.
Watch over me.
No crying! That’s how they know you’re awake. No crying and sleep. Please, Sophia. Just go to sleep. Stop crying.
Sophia’s brave. She doesn’t sob like me. Only a couple of tears drip from her eyes. That’s what I want to believe, at least. She’s got the power to stop her tears. Sophia’s brave. Braver than me.
Wipe the tear. Here they come. No more crying.
Please, go.
They’re so close. Stop crying.
No tears.
Stop crying, Sophia! I’m not sure if I say it aloud. Did Hayden hear me? I don’t want him to stop the transfer. Not yet.
Sophia, you can cry in a minute. Be strong. Then cry. It’s okay to cry. The Keepers will be in and out. Nobody’s going to hurt you tonight. Stay still and don’t cry.
Why should she have to stay still and quiet? Why can’t she cry? She should be allowed to without worrying about consequences. The juvenile home is awful. And these are government facilities?
When Mom left, I had Dad. If Dad had fought against the Coats, would I have ended up in a home? Is that why he encouraged me to go through with the test and the chip and the T-Blox? Was he just protecting me?
Thank you, Dad. I love you. I miss you.
Can’t it just be morning? Let it be morning. I don’t care if I get beaten or if I have these thoughts, but let’s fast forward to morning.
They’re gone. You did it. Nice.
No, don’t turn back. Just go.
Thanks, Mom and Dad. Thanks for protecting me tonight.
Why didn’t you protect me before? Why didn’t you just let them give me
the chip? I’d be with you. No Keepers. No bruises. No wishes to fast-forward life.
Fast-forward? Can I rewind?
Your faces. Your faces when the White Coats told us. Your screams. Why?
Lotsa kids are chipped. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.
It’s my fault. I failed the Exam. I’m the disturbed one. They didn’t want to believe it.
Don’t cry, Mom. Don’t yell, Dad. Let me get the chip. Don’t fight.
Have I ever considered that it’s my fault Mother left and Dad is hurt? Dad certainly would be okay if I didn’t fail the Exam.
But Mother?
Maybe I was disturbed from birth. And she knew. She knew so she left to protect me. To fight the Coats. That’s where she is.
Or she left because she couldn’t handle me.
I don’t want to sleep now. I don’t want to fast-
forward. They’re gone for the night. I want the rest of the night to go as slow as possible.
Wash dishes. Clean toilets. Don’t screw up or you’ll get whipped.
Could I ever talk back like the others? Why don’t I? I’m a wimp.
I never talked back to Mom and Dad. I should have. I should have yelled at them to let me get chipped. I told them. But I didn’t yell. I didn’t talk back.
Why didn’t you talk back? So stupid, Sophia. Why didn’t you yell at them? You could have shown them how disturbed you are. Then, they would have let you get chipped.
You should have broken the windows. Slashed their tires. Stole the car. Failed at school. Why’d you get A’s? Why were you so obedient?
How would I even fail? I don’t know how. I don’t make trouble.
Should I make trouble here? Like the other kids? I can handle a whooping. My ribs aren’t too bad.
No, I’m a coward.
You were never cowards. You fought them. Fought them for me. Why?
Dishes. Lick the dishes if you miss a spot.
I can’t make trouble. The floors need to be spotless. I can’t use the same toothbrush on my teeth. How do the others do that? They’re not cowards.
Are you two protecting me? Should I make trouble like you?
Rewind. Let me go back!
Stop crying. Keep crying. Stop crying. Who cares?
I’ll fight back. Bathroom-floor-covered toothbrush. I’ll puke. I’ll get sick. How is that legal? They don’t care. We’re Unfavorables. How do the others do it?
Just behave for three more years. More than three. Less than four. Three more years. Then, you’ll be free. You’ve made it a year. Three more.
I can’t take them, though!
Protect me. Mom. Dad. Protect me from the Keepers.
Is it your fault or is it mine? You let this happen to your kid, but I failed the test.
Why didn’t you let me get chipped? What’s the big deal?
I hate you. I hate you.
I love you. Protect me.
It’s okay to cry. Just cry.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
I wish I could tell Sophia that her parents loved her. That they did this for her protection. It’s not their fault. You love them, Sophia.
They did love her, right? Unlike Mother. They fought for her. Mother abandoned me.
Or is she protecting me? Or did I scare her off?
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
Sophia’s brain screams. Her thoughts try to burst out of her head.
I love you.
I hate you.
Stop, Sophia! You love them! You love them! They love you!
I hate you!
Is she talking to me? Or to her parents?
I hate you! I hate you!
Don’t hate them! Don’t hate me! Don’t hate me! Don’t hate me!
I hate you, Mom! I hate you, Dad!
“I hate you, Mother! I hate you, Mother! I hate you, Mother!” My own voice snaps me out of Sophia’s thoughts. “Stop! Stop! Take this off! Make it stop! Stop!”
I shake violently, without success. The straps dig further into my arms with each escape attempt. The leash around my eyes does its job well; my head won’t budge.
“Stop!” I yell again.
“Okay, okay. We’re getting you out.” It’s Hayden’s voice.
With one loud click, all of the fasteners release. My wrists and ankles instantly feel relieved. A pain lingers in my head, though. If the ceiling light didn’t blind my unadjusted pupils, I’d be able to see.
Slowly, Hayden’s face comes into focus. “Are you all right, Maggie?”
“The girl,” I mutter. “Sophia. Where is Sophia? Did you rescue her? She’s here, right?”
“No, Maggie,” Makayla says.
“Let’s rescue her,” I suggest. “Sophia needs our help. The Keepers. They’re bad. Where are her parents?”
“They’re dead,” Jack answers. “They were publicly executed soon after refusing to let their daughter be chipped.”
“They died for her,” I mutter to myself. “Where’s Sophia? Did she fight back at all?”
“She did,” Hayden says. “She’s a fighter.”
“Let’s go get her! Let’s get Sophia!” I shout, still lying exhausted on the chair.
Hayden rubs my head. “We can’t, Maggie.”
“Why not? Jack can. Send the Suits. You got me. You can get her. Jack can. Do it, Jack!”
“We can’t,” Jack says, shaking his head. There is a heart inside of him.
“Why, Jack? Why?!” I shout. Tears run down my cheeks. I’m not sobbing. There are only a couple of tears. Just like the way I imagined Sophia.
“Because Sophia is dead too. She was beaten to death a couple of days ago. By the Keepers.”
A scared, innocent little girl beaten to death. For what? Not wanting to be abused. That’s what our government does?
“What did she look like?” I choke out.
Jack turns on the screen and the image of a girl comes up. She has blonde hair with French-braided pigtails. There’s a dimple on her left cheek. The girl has a smile brighter than this room.
The picture must be a couple years old; this girl didn’t have any reason to smile for a while now.
Sophia will never smile again.
Chapter 15
Incident Report: Rochester JUH
On October 12th, 2040, we lost one of our residents. Sophia Lighty, fourteen years of age, suffered a fatal blow to the head after an encounter with several Keepers.
Sophia, along with three other Unfavorables, joined together to challenge seven of our best Keepers. The residents disobeyed orders to clean bathrooms. They then refused to accept their punishment. Instead of skipping a meal, as they were ordered, the four residents entered the cafeteria, uninvited.
Not only did they cause a scene, demanding they receive dinner, they also rallied the rest of those eating dinner. This was the third strike for these residents. When we went to apprehend them, Sophia stepped in front of the pack and had the gall to push the Keepers. As a result, one of our Keepers justifiably got physical with Sophie.
During the scuffle, Sophie was struck in the head. We believe the blow caused her death. Per the URAs policies on unruly Juvenile Unfavorable Home residents, Sophia will not receive a proper burial.
Sophia Lighty Date of Birth: April 21st, 2026
Sophia Lighty Date of Death: October 12th, 2040
-Approved by Board of Rochester Juvenile Authority Home, 12 October, 2040
“Maggieeeeeee! Waaaaaaiiiiit!”
I’m halfway up the stairs when I hear Hayden’s voice echo through the stairwell. It seems like there are more steps on the way up, but it doesn’t take as long. And I have no symptoms of claustrophobia.
I don’t hear the sound of any other footsteps echoing through the walkway, so Hayden and the others must’ve decided that it isn’t worth chasing me. That’s a good decision on their part. I’m not sure exactly what my next move is, but there’s no stopping me.
When I reach the top, I look around. Fluorescent bulbs light the way to the left and the right. The path straight is dark. I can’t remember what direction I came from, but I think the passageway was lit. That gives me the option of left or right. I hear some chatter travel from the left. That’s the way I run.
It has to be lunchtime. That’s the only explanation for why so many voices traveled so far down the tunnel. They grow louder the closer I get to the lunchroom, proving my hypothesis.
The conversations stop when I enter the room. I bend over to take a moment to catch my breath. While panting, I realize that my shirt is covered in sweat. It’s like I jumped into a pool. My hair feels even frizzier than usual as drops of perspiration crawl from my head down my face. The salt stings my eyes.
Using the bottom of my shirt, I wipe the sweat from my eyes. I stand up straight and stare at the silent crowd. Their mouths don’t have to move to communicat
e their judgment. Their eyes do all the talking—glued to the soaking freak who crashed the party.
The room slowly begins to spin, and I have to lean against the doorway to stay on my feet. I don’t know if the dizziness is from lack of oxygen or from being the center of attention. Either way, I feel like I’m going to be sick.
My head circles the blurry room until I get a glimpse of purple hair. Then, my vision comes into focus. It’s Gia, and she laughs as she whispers into Billy’s ear. She’s back to the same old Gia. I don’t care, though. I’m just glad to see Billy’s still whole. I’m a bit surprised he is.
Billy’s safety helps me compose myself, at least to the extent that I can stand without support. I’m still sweating, and I’m still breathing heavily.
The only way the silence will end is if I speak first. Before I contemplate how to end the quiet awkwardness, I yell, “Hey! Stand up if you’re an Unfavorable!” Everyone stays seated. The situation becomes more awkward. “Yes, I said it. Unfavorable. Stand up!”
Gia stops chuckling and looks at me with a curious expression. So does Billy. They’re anxious to witness where this meltdown is heading next. Everyone is.
“I said, stand up if you’re an Unfavorable!” Eyes circle the room, but still nobody stands. Not the Suits with eyepatches. Not the ones with glass eyes. Not the Runners. I look at Billy, thinking that he’ll stand, but he stays seated. “So no one in this damn place is an Unfavorable? Just me?”
A tap on my shoulder startles me. My frightened jump sends me backwards into a body.
“Come on, Maggie,” Hayden says. He puts his arm around me. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
Without taking my eyes off of the crowd, I say, “No. You three come in here too.”
Jack, Makayla, and Hayden walk past me and stride for the nearest table. It’s only a few feet in front of where I’m standing. Three people offer up their seats and migrate to a different table. Six more eyes to study my every action.