by JM Butcher
I’ll fight back. If violence is necessary, then we use violence.
We are already marginalized, already outcasts.
The Keepers will be in here again soon.
Wash dishes. Clean toilets. Don’t screw up or you’ll get whipped.
Should I make trouble here? Like the other kids?
No, I’m a coward. I’m a wimp.
I’ll fight back. Bathroom-floor-covered toothbrush. I’ll puke. I’ll get sick. How is that legal?
I wonder what disease I have. My clothes definitely need burned. Ugh—I can still smell the filth lining my nose.
I’ll fight back.
The Keepers will be in here again soon. I can’t take another black eye.
I’ll fight back. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you.
The government loves the passive. Abroad we kill. We steal. We conquer. We take lives and break up families.
At home, we kill. We steal. We conquer. We take lives and break up families. We annihilate freedom and decimate civil rights. We deport and chip. In the name of what?
How is that legal?
I’ll fight back.
So what do we do?
We unite! We have to fight. We have to resist. We have to struggle. We have to revolt!
Revolutions are not always peaceful. Freedom here is not free. Equality here is far from equal. Opportunity is a distraction. And who here is actually happy?
We talk. We scream. We fight.
We have to revolt! We are already marginalized. We are all Unfavorables.
Wash dishes. Clean toilets. Don’t screw up or you’ll get whipped.
We have to revolt! Break my bones. Knock out my teeth. I’ll fight back.
Wipe the tear. Here they come. No more crying.
The government loves the passive. We can only gain favor by demanding favor. By fighting for favor. If it means we are Transgressors, then so be it.
We’re Unfavorables. Let’s show them true transgression.
For our freedom. For our equality. For our opportunity. For our happiness.
Could I kill? Could I, though? Is the only way to fight fire to fight it with fire?
Do it for your moms and dads! Do it for your brothers and sisters! Do it for your friends! Do it for you!
For our freedom. For our equality. For our opportunity. For our happiness.
Let’s show them true transgression.
These are not my thoughts. Well, technically, they are. They’re all on my chip. But they’re not mine. And not in this order. Some are mine. But not really. Most are Sophia’s and Mother’s. This is not me. No way!
I continue to scroll and scroll and scroll. I don’t reach the end of the records. They just repeat and repeat. The order of the thoughts is slightly different, but the words are the same. The message is the same: Let’s show them true transgression.
This is not me. I would never support violence. I told Hayden that. These can’t be my thoughts.
Makayla looks at me like I’m weird. I’m sure I’m as pale as a ghost. I silently pray that she can’t read my face right now.
She either thinks that these actually are my thoughts or knows that someone tampered with my thoughts. Thoughts that can’t change.
But how would someone do that? Who could’ve done it? It could’ve been Makayla. It could’ve been Jack. It could’ve been Hayden.
I shudder at the last option. No, Hayden wouldn’t have done this to me. Jack’s been setting me up. That has to be it. Not with help from Gia, though. Her reaction displayed anger; it was not a look of proud success.
Makayla could be his accomplice. She’s top Hound; she’s always in the loop.
An accomplice to what? To changing the narrative of my night thoughts? Why would that matter? I’m positive they are fake, but if they were real, how could those be used to take down a Home? They’re just data on Makayla’s computer.
Somehow they were used. And everyone in this compound is under the impression that I’m some sort of mastermind who developed a plan to take down a Home. I have no idea what happened to the Home. I’m afraid to ask. Afraid to see the wreckage. Afraid that if someone went through all of this trouble, then it might be dangerous for me to be the curious cat.
Fighting the grogginess, I focus on keeping my eyes open so there’s no record of my uneasiness. No record of the questions swirling around like tornado in my brain.
I need to play dumb and play along.
I extend my arm toward her, inviting a fist bump. “I can’t believe it actually worked.”
“Right?” Makayla says and returns the fist bump. “You did it, Maggie!”
I can only play so dumb with a lack of information, so I nervously ask, “How exactly did this work? I mean, nobody told me how my thinking would be used. I was just told to think.” I force a grin.
“And think you did, my Maggie girl!” she exclaims.
My Maggie girl. My Maggie. That’s what Mother called me. I’m convinced that whatever shadiness is going on, Makayla’s a part of it. Why else would she call me that?
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Hayden standing in the doorway across the room. He tilts his head to the side, signaling for me to walk over. I’m grateful to be rescued from this situation.
Makayla follows my gaze and smirks. “Go get your boy,” she says.
“My boy? What do you mean?” I ask.
“Ha. Come on, Maggie. I’m sorry, but when you’re the center of an operation, your privacy is not a priority.” She reaches in front of the computer and scrolls up.
Sure enough, my kiss thoughts are there. I blush but I’m not embarrassed. In a way, I’m pleased it’s in the open. “So how many people know?” I ask.
“Everyone in this room knows about the romantic Maggie-Hayden kiss.” She playfully punches my shoulder. “Don’t worry, though. We didn’t send it out to the kids in the Home. Your secret is safe here.”
“Why would…” I stop myself from asking a question that would blow my cover. “Thanks for not doing that.” I return a playful smack and stand up. “I’ll catch you later.”
“Go get ‘em, champ,” Makayla says. “Hey, Maggie.” I stop. “Don’t be thinking about a girl when you’re kissing Hayden. Geez.” She laughs.
“Huh?”
“Melli…” she says. “Never mind. Go get your boy!”
Melli? I only was thinking if I was kissing right. What does Makayla think? She’s back to working on her computer, so I let it go.
I head in Hayden’s direction. Some of the Techies and Hounds glance at Hayden and chuckle, but most of them concentrate on their work. No congratulatory comments to me this time around. I’m more than okay with that.
Makayla must be innocent, unless she’s a really good actor. She clearly believes that I’m aware of what’s going on. Why else would she mention sending something to the kids in the Home?
What was sent? My counterfeit night thoughts?
When I reach Hayden, he quietly says, “We need to talk,” before I can say it.
I intend for my response to express frustration, but it only expresses my confusion. “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”
“I’m sorry,” he says as we leave the room.
I’m confident that I deserve the apology, but I don’t know why.
Chapter 18
Perhaps against my better judgment, I am here to tell you that deletion is a real thing. We have the technology to erase an Unfavorable’s chip. During this deletion, an electric charge is sent to the rest of the brain. The charge effectively wipes the entire memory of an individual.
Trust me, we only do this if it is completely necessary. I do not have the authority to divulge what “completely necessary” signifies, but you have my word that deletion only is used in extreme cases—usually when it is for the good of the Unfavorable.
We prefer to not use the deletion method—especially with those who we intend to interrogate. A memory-filled mind is more valuable to us than a deleted mind.
This is the first time I’ve seen Hayden’s room. It’s the first time I’ve seen anyone else’s room, for that matter. Compared to his room, mine is definitely not a suite.
Not only is there a refrigerator in the room; there’s also a microwave and an oven. The bed is a king and the solid black comforter has no rips in it. I’d be very surprised if the sink in the room only shot out scalding water.
I guess I’m lucky I have a toilet. In the spot where my toilet is, Hayden has a bookshelf completely filled with hardbacks and paperbacks. I’m impressed that he reads actual books. It’s possible that it’s just for show, though.
Above the bookshelf is a flat-screen TV. It looks like the old-fashioned kind, so I doubt that it’s hologram-friendly.
As soon as my inspection is complete, I spit rapid-fire questions at him. “What’s going on? Why are people treating me like a hero? Why does every computer in the place have a copy of fake night thoughts? Why did Makayla say my thoughts were sent to the JUH? What happened to the Home? They said it was taken down. What does that mean? Are people hurt?”
Eventually, Hayden puts his index finger on my lips. I’m not thrilled that he’s silencing me, but I do need the opportunity to breathe. I imagine my face is purple from a lack of oxygen.
Between gulping breaths, I manage to say, “You don’t get to shut me up. Answer me. What’s happening here?”
Hayden stays silent. Instead of speaking, he grabs a remote control and turns on the TV. While he’s flipping through channels, he sits on the bed and invites me to join him. Once he’s found the news station, he points to the screen.
The images are horrifying. Emergency vehicles surrounding a large collapsed building. Smoke pours from the rubble. Gray Coats all over the place frantically pushing stretchers. I squint to see that a couple of stretchers hold people who appear to be alive. The rest are covered by orange sheets or bags—presumably dead bodies.
At the bottom of the screen, the running caption reads: BREAKING NEWS: DOMESTIC TRANSGRESSION, NORTHFIELD JUH, 24 CONFIRMED DEAD, 8 KEEPERS, 16 RESIDENTS, MORE EXPECTED.
Awestruck by what I see, I tell Hayden to turn up the volume. Reluctantly or not, he abides my request. Based on the fact that he hasn’t spoken since we entered the room, I gather that he’d prefer the news to answer my questions.
I spend a couple of minutes taking in the sight until the newscaster recaps the event.
For those of you just joining, the city of Northfield, Ohio, is the latest site of a domestic transgression attack. Early this morning, it was reported that the residents at the Northfield Juvenile Unfavorable Home started an uprising in the building, vandalizing the Home and brutally attacking the Keepers.
Shortly after the first responders arrived, an explosive device was detonated, destroying the building and bringing injuries or death to those left inside.
Fortunately, no emergency personnel were injured, but it’s reported that at least eight Keepers, along with sixteen residents, have been killed. We are unsure if these deaths are a result of the riots or the explosive device. We, however, do believe that the two incidents are related.
It is also believed that dozens are injured and that several Unfavorable residents are on the run.
Jim, is there any further information you can provide for our viewers?
Hayden takes a hold of my hand. His palm is sweaty. So is mine. I take his perspiration as a sign that he’s as shocked by this event as I am. That means he’s not culpable.
Janie, there have not been any new revelations at this time. What we do know is that this is being called an act of domestic transgression. A Keeper who, thankfully, survived the attack commented on the spontaneity of the riot in the Home. He stated that it was as if the clock struck 7:03 a.m. and boom; all of the residents began to destroy any objects in sight and swarm the guards in a mass assailment.
Okay, so Jim, this type of spontaneity is unexpected? Even in this type of environment?
Yes, Janie, all who have commented have said that they have never seen anything like this. Nobody shouted to initiate the uprising. Many of the residents were in separate rooms. It is peculiar that so many people not in contact with each other would start an attack at the exact same time.
Jim, I understand that the authorities have some frightening theories for how an act of this nature could happen.
That is correct, Janie. There have not been any confirmed theories, but the authorities believe that this riot was caused by what they call “Cyber Transgression.”
Jim, could you be more specific for our viewers?
Certainly, Janie. Government officials and authorities have worried about Cyber Transgressions for quite some time, but they were hoping that Transgressor groups did not have the technology to put a Cyber Transgression into action. A Cyber Transgression consists of hacking into chips, using a sort of virus to contaminate the chips of Unfavorables. Such a virus would transmit data into the chips, causing the contaminated Unfavorables to engage in whatever actions the virus tells them to do.
Wait, Jim. So theoretically, if one has the technology, a Transgressor could send a virus to hacked chips, triggering a mass revolt by infected Unfavorables? Where would a virus like this come from?
Well, Janie, that is the million cash card question. For a virus to be sent, someone would need to hack into one person’s chip, steal the data, and send the infection out. How exactly this can be done is unknown at this point.
But Jim, authorities are considering this a possibility?
That’s exactly right, Janie. And not just a possibility. It’s believed to be the case here. Now, the White Coats and Gray Coats, along with other government officials, have their work cut out for them to figure out the steps involved in this type of transgressive act.
And the explosive device, Jim?
Janie, authorities believe the bomb to have been the contingent plan to finish off the job.
I piece together fragments of information I’ve received from Makayla and the news. The night thoughts Makayla claimed to be mine. The potential for a virus to infect chips. The spontaneous uprising at exactly 7:03 a.m. It all makes sense.
The tampered night thoughts perfectly targeted residents of a JUH. They referenced the slave duties residents are forced to perform. They mentioned Keepers. They encouraged violence to overtake the Home. They endorsed transgression. And the thoughts just went on and on and on, long enough for anyone to snap.
I grab the remote and mute the TV. “Jack hacked me,” I state. “He sent the virus.”
“I don’t know,” Hayden says. He lets go of my hand and turns to face me.
“No, I’m not asking,” I say. “That’s what happened. The thoughts Makayla had. My night thoughts. But not mine. They were like Mother’s speech—directing the residents to revolt. Commanding them to violently take down the Home. Let’s show them true transgression. We have to revolt! That’s what it said. Jack hacked me. He infected them. All because I wanted to know Mother. He played me!”
I want to throw my head into Hayden’s lap and cry, but I refrain. I need to stay sensible. I need to keep my cool. I need to figure this out.
“That’s why he’s been gone,” I say. “He’s been planning this. He played you, too. He gave you the pieces of Mother’s thoughts that he wanted me to see. He played us both.”
Hayden starts to shake a little. When I first met him, he was timid, but he never panicked. I sense that a panic attack is about to overtake him.
“Maggie.” Hayden’s voice slightly trembles, too. “Are you sure you aren’t responsible for the thoughts? I read them. Are you sure there’s not a possibility that you thought up those things? You said you can’t remember them? Is there a chance?”
I’m insulted but I let it slide because of his vulnerable state. “No way. And Jack must’ve blocked my thoughts somehow. There’s no other explanation. Jack or someone. There’s not one new thought in
that data. It was only uploaded stuff. Jack did something. You have to believe me, Hayden.”
“I do,” Hayden says. “I do believe you. You know I do.” He stares at the comforter as if he’s trying to piece together his own conclusion to all of this.
“You told me to control my night thoughts,” I say to Hayden. Nervously, I ask, “Did you know that they were going to become a virus?”
He hesitates. Then, he says, “Yes and no.”
“Hayden!” I throw my arms up and stand. Pacing the room, I say, “What the hell, Hayden? What does ‘yes and no’ mean?”
Hayden can’t look at me. It seems like his guilt is getting the best of him. Or, the fact that Jack played him tears at his soul. “Uh,” he starts. “Uh…well, I knew about the virus. But we all were going to go over everything together. You. Me. Johnny. Kay. We were going to determine if your night thoughts were useful. And to honor your wish not to hurt people. We were going to wait until Johnny was back. Johnny! Where is he?!” Hayden drops his face into his hands.
I climb back on the bed behind Hayden and rub his shoulders. I think I hear a soft sob, but I can’t be sure. I don’t like seeing a freaked out Hayden.
Glancing at the TV, I see a mugshot that I’ve seen before. The mugshot that will haunt me for the rest of my life. The angry-looking boy with the fuzzy mustache. Underneath the mugshot appear the words: SUSPECT IN CUSTODY, ONE OTHER SIGNIFICANT PERSON OF INTEREST AT LARGE.
“Hayden,” I say, but he doesn’t respond. I shake him. “Hayden, look! Billy was sent in? Who’s the other person?”
When Hayden looks at the screen, his expression doesn’t change much. His panic is still in full swing, though. He mutters something.
“What? I can’t hear you.” I say.
Louder this time, he says, “We’re in trouble.” He rises to his feet, wipes his face, and takes a deep breath. I’m jealous of how quickly he’s able to regain his composure.
“What do you mean we’re in trouble?” I ask.