Inside

by Kyra Anderson

  “Pennsylvania Street was cleared immediately and several people in the demonstration were arrested, though so far police have been unable to identify any as those who were in the Central Liberation Parade. Members of the Commission of the People are scheduled to make a statement about the incident at the Liberation Day Parade at two p.m. central time…”

  No one was going to class. Students were grouped near walls, looking at various electronic devices and reading the article, or watching some of the news reports that were coming in from the recently-cleared Pennsylvania Street.

  “Can you believe it?” Jill hissed. “Another strike against the Commission. What is going on here?”

  “But did you see the guy with wings? Something is going on in the Commission obviously,” Taylor said. “I wonder how these people got the signs and fliers…maybe the group is a lot bigger than they thought. Maybe they are all over the country, like the Coalition or the CCLF…”

  “Do you think?” Becca gasped.

  “Lily, what’s going on with the Commission? They must be freaking out about this,” Jill said, turning to me.

  “It’s a little chaotic…”

  “Is it true?” Taylor asked. “The whole weapons thing? That they’re making weapons out of…people.”

  “I…you know I can’t talk about anything that happens in the Commission…”

  That was more than enough of an answer.

  While I was happy to see that Jill and Taylor were suddenly thinking more about the message we had put out to the people, I was more thrilled that the fliers had made it to the parade safely. I had been concerned that Yi Ling would be captured before she had a chance to get the fliers from the Sweeps van to the parade office. Mark had coordinated the eighteen members of the Eight Group and had found out who was going on Sweeps to other areas of the country. Using the machines in the fort, we had printed as many fliers as we had paper for and divided them among the various parades. While the parades really only lasted through the following weekend, we were sure that we would cause enough of a stir to get people rallying behind our movement.

  I was more anxious to see how Dana had my father and the others handle the press conference, since they had only two hours after finding out about what happened in the Western Region to think up what to say in response.

  When I got to where Mark was standing, I smiled and lifted my hands up to him. He hesitated and then grinned, giving me a high-five. Clark joined, also giving me an enthusiastic high-five before we were driven to the Commission.

  For the first time, I was not nervous about Dana calling me in to talk to him. I was not entirely sure that he would, considering that the press conference was just finishing and it was possible he went with my father and the others. Clark seemed to feel the same way. He was not anxious at all as we went through the security checkpoint, which was still extensive—in ways more so since the parade. Even Mark was thoroughly patted down before being allowed in the basement of the Commission.

  I was trying not to smile at the chaos we had created.

  A small part of me cringed when I pulled out all my late homework, briefly catching glances at the horrible grades I had received. The former perfectionist student I had been hated seeing the bad marks. But a bigger part of me was advocating that school didn’t matter and I needed to focus on the revolution.

  My phone buzzed on the table. I had never gotten a message or call inside the Commission that I did not plan on. Clark seemed surprised as well.

  I saw a text message scroll across my screen.

  Come to my office.

  The number associated with the message was 5—Dana’s private cell phone.

  “Dana is telling me to go to his office…”

  I studied Clark’s worried expression.

  “What about?”

  “I don’t know…” I admitted. “I don’t think I’m in any trouble.”

  “How did he react to Mykail being at the parade?”

  “He was at my house by the time I got home,” I recounted. “He was pretty upset and he’s convinced that I’m involved somehow.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “That I wasn’t involved,” I said strongly. “But, he’s convinced.”

  “He hasn’t taken you in…” Clark murmured, his voice strained with concern.

  “He can’t prove anything,” I shrugged. I stood and sighed heavily. “I don’t think I have anything to worry about. There was no way in hell I could have been at the Stanford Parade today.”

  Clark seemed more hesitant about me going to Dana’s office than I was. I was excited to go. I was curious to see how Dana reacted.

  “I’ll be fine,” I assured, walking out of the room. But Clark wasn’t the only paranoid person I had to get past. Mark was also wondering where I was going.

  “Dana wants me to go to his office,” I told him, forgetting that he wasn’t supposed to understand me and becoming confused when he cocked his head to the side like he didn’t hear me. After a few confused seconds, I remembered where we were. “It’s okay,” I said simply.

  I started walking away when Mark grabbed my arm, causing me to whirl around. I watched the various worried expressions cross over his features. While I had always been impressed with and admired Mark’s careful nature, I was beginning to think he was too paranoid.

  Finally, he sighed, glancing around briefly to be sure no one else was nearby and mouthed something to me.

  Don’t play with him…

  I nodded before walking away, turning through the now-familiar halls that made up the lower level of the Commission of the People. I took a deep breath before I knocked on Dana’s office door.

  “Come in.”

  Dana was sitting at his desk, Sean standing behind him, both looking at one of the monitors of Dana’s computer.

  “Little Lily,” Dana greeted. “Come in, come in…”

  I stepped up to the other side of his desk, glancing at Sean. For what felt like hours, the three of us stood in silence, Dana watching the screen of his computer while Sean looked nervously between Dana, the screen, and me. I wanted to see what they were watching, but I felt that if I moved, Dana would pounce.

  Finally, he spoke.

  “I assume that you already know what happened in the Western Region today,” the leader of the Commission said suddenly.

  “…yes,” I nodded. “Some kids read the report at school. It spread around the school like wild fire…”

  “I can imagine,” Dana mused distractedly. He sighed and leaned back in his chair, glancing briefly at Sean. “That will be all, Sean. I will see you later tonight.”

  Sean bowed his head and turned, walking around the desk and to the door, hesitantly leaving.

  Again, Dana and I were locked in silence.

  Dana reached to his mouse and clicked a few things before turning the volume up.

  “Come see,” he offered.

  I walked around his desk and nervously approached his seat. I leaned my hip against the desk, my eyes focusing the reporter on screen.

  “And now for the latest on the incident that happened in the Western Region earlier today. At the Stanford Parade on Pennsylvania Street, the group who called into question the practices of the Commission of the People at the Liberation Day Parade in Central made another appearance. A large group of approximately sixty people wearing Thomas Ankell masks marched in front of the parade dedication carrying the same signs seen at the Liberation Day Parade on Saturday. While there was no sign of the winged man that appeared at the parade in Central, people still believe this was from the same radical group. We’re going to Cindy Gregg who is on the scene at the cleanup of Pennsylvania Street.”

  The video cut to a younger woman with beautiful thick brown hair and bright green eyes, standing among a crowd of people while officials set up barriers and began gathering the signs and banners the group had dropped in the chaos that had been their capture.

  “Thank you, Diane,” Cindy said. “
As you can see behind me, Pennsylvania Street has remained closed after the police came in and arrested approximately forty of the members of the group who disrupted the parade. There has been no evidence yet to suggest that these are the same people as the Central Parade, and the police are refusing to give information on those who were captured, though they did reveal that several of the people are still at large in the city.”

  “Cindy, have you spoken to any of the people there? What is the general sentiment?”

  “Yes, I have spoken to them, and the general sentiment right now is shock and confusion. Many are not sure what to make of this sudden rise in what possibly could be a rebellion, or even domestic terrorism. Many were unable to see the press conference of the Commission of the People, and are still unsure what to think about the information that these groups have on the Commission of the People, or its validity.”

  “Thank you, Cindy, we will come back to you in a few minutes,” Diane said as the camera cut back to the main studio. “The press conference being held by representatives of the Commission of the People is still underway and is being broadcast on local PBC networks, but here is what representative Thomas Sandover had to say earlier in the conference.”

  The camera showed a previously recorded clip of the press conference where my father stood at the podium next to Clark’s mother, and another one of Dana’s advisors.

  “The Commission of the People is working very hard to gather all information that we can on who these people are and why they are using these fear tactics on the American people. At the moment, our information is incomplete, but the members of the Commission of the People want to assure the people of America that there is currently nothing to fear from this group of radicals.”

  “What about their message that blames the Commission of the People for torturing their captives and creating weapons out of them?” one of the reporters called. “What is your response to the claim?”

  “The Commission of the People was shocked at the implications of these messages. While we understand that the Commission of the People has a notorious reputation, to openly accuse us of mistreating and altering humans is an absurd and unfounded accusation and a fear tactic to create instability within the public.”

  “Do you deny, then, that the Commission is torturing criminals in its custody?” another reporter asked from the back of the room.

  “Yes, I deny the claims against the Commission of the People. There is no weapons testing, there is no torture. The purpose of the Commission is to keep the people of America safe, and that is what we always strive to accomplish.”

  “Mr. Sandover, in a time like this, it seems surprising that the appointed leader of the Commission of the People, Dana Christenson, has not made an appearance or a statement in response to these incidents. What can you tell us about Mr. Christenson’s whereabouts at this time?”

  “Dana Christenson has not come forward for the reason of his safety,” my father said. “He is working very hard to find this group of radicals and remove them from the public in order to restore peace of mind to the American people. As such, with the way this group has been targeting the Commission of the People, it was a unanimous decision that our leader, Mr. Dana Christenson, remain out of media and public view for his safety and the preservation of the Commission of the People through this time.”

  “He’s quite handsome in that suit…” Dana mused as the camera cut back to the main reporter. “Isn’t he?”

  “Don’t get any ideas,” I warned.

  “What do you mean?” he asked innocently, glancing at me as I sat on his desk, crossing my legs and glaring at him.

  “You keep your hands off him. I won’t have you seducing my father the way you’ve seduced so many men of the Commission.”

  Dana shrugged and leaned forward, pausing the video. “If I want him, I’ll have him. It’s as simple as that.”

  “The hell you will…”

  Dana turned his chair and looked me over with a crooked smile.

  “Well, here we are again, Little Lily,” he grinned. “You caught me by surprise. That doesn’t happen very often.”

  “I’m sure it doesn’t,” I chuckled. “But I had nothing to do with the thing at Stanford.”

  “No, of course not,” Dana grinned, tilting his head dangerously to the side.

  I sighed heavily.

  “You’re never going to believe me, are you?”

  “How can I?” Dana barked a laugh. “You don’t believe it, yourself.” He leaned back in his chair and sighed, rolling his neck around. “Even if you are guilty, which I know you are, if you believe you’re innocent, you can make others believe it as well.”

  “Tell that to all the innocent people convicted of crimes they didn’t commit…” I scoffed.

  “Well, the belief that someone is guilty can be stronger than one person believing they’re innocent but, to be fair,” Dana held up his hands in a shrug, “is anyone really innocent?”

  I huffed. “So, I can’t convince you that I’m innocent, but if I confess to anything, then you take me in and I become your slave.” I clicked my tongue against the roof of my mouth. “I’m not seeing a viable option…”

  “You already have a preconceived notion that you’ll be my slave when I take you?” Dana challenged, his eyebrows high. “Interesting…it’s wrong, but still interesting.”

  “Then, what do you want from me?”

  Dana’s smile widened.

  “Well, to be honest, I thought you would do something stupid that would cause me to take you in already, but you seem to have exceeded my expectations. I thought I would need to train you a little, but as I have said, you surprised me.”

  “Train me?”

  “You don’t need to worry,” Dana assured gently. “You’ve already done wonderfully. Like I said, I need to step up my game.” He tilted his head. “I did not think so many people would get behind you so quickly. After Liberation Day we were monitoring all streets, planes, anything entering or leaving the city and saw no fliers or signs being sent to the Western Region. We found no electronic trace—so far—of files being sent to be printed there…you have planned this well…”

  I could not help but smile.

  “You are getting sneaky,” Dana whispered.

  “How do you think they got the fliers?” I asked innocently.

  Dana smiled.

  “To be honest, considering the resources most likely available for this domestic terrorist group, I am genuinely stumped.” Dana tilted his head to the side again. “What do you think my confusion means?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What angle am I not considering?”

  “You could be ignoring how much the people disapprove of what the Commission does,” I said. “The Commission was controversial to begin with. And then you abused the power you had and the people now know you are creating weapons out of people.”

  “No.” Dana shook his head. “I think I am underestimating the resources available to this group.” He grinned darkly. “Whoever they are…”

  Dana leaned forward, resting his hand on the exposed skin of my ankle above my sock. It took all my willpower not to flinch away from his fingers. His pointer and middle finger traced random circles over the bones of my ankle as his eyes traveled up my calf, over my thigh and up my body to finally rest on my breasts, which I realized too late I was accenting by having my arms crossed.

  But I boldly remained as I was, teasing him.

  He licked his bottom lip before capturing it in his bottom teeth and finally shifting his eyes up to my face.

  “My, my,” he breathed, “you’re getting bold…”

  I slowly moved my head, tilting it, allowing only the smallest of smirks to touch the corners of my mouth.

  * *** *

  The entire week had been filled with frantic whispers and speculations about the terrorist group. I listened to the gossip with dark glee, feeling like chuckling every time I heard the flustered hypothese
s of the news stations and the students on campus. When eyes were turned on me, I quickly fell into my role, feigning my concern over the situation and offering my half-cooked ideas about the motives of the rebel group.

  Meanwhile, I was sharing secret glances with the other Commish Kids, who were also enjoying the attention.

  Friday at Archangel was far more enjoyable for me, and it must have been noticeable because I was attracting a lot of attention. I had done my rounds, hearing how different kids had heard stories from their parents, trying to collect information. My favorite whispers were ones like “do you think it’s true?” and “what if it is true and the Commission really is making weapons out of people?”

  The smile would take over my whole face and I would fade quietly into the crowd to enjoy the feeling.

  I felt powerful, nearly invincible. Without fail, the plan was working, and Dana himself was stumped. Clark shared most of my enthusiasm, but I could tell he was not feeling it as acutely as I was. And Mark only offered the smallest smile to show that he was happy we had made progress. But he was still as cautious and careful as ever.

  For me, Friday night was a time to celebrate my power.

  After getting worked up over the rumors around the club, I made my way to the middle of the dance floor, feeling as though nothing could touch me. Assimilating perfectly with the pulsing of the dancing crowd, I began to sway, feeling the beat throb around me, moving my body. My eyes closed, only opening every now and then. There were eyes on me, mostly male eyes, as I moved with the music, my hands falling over my body as I danced, enticing people to come forward. If I had had rational thought in that moment, I would have wondered about my attempts to seduce the people around me. Every move was a message to come closer.

  And they did.

  Several boys stepped forward, dancing with me while the girls looked on with contempt and disgust. I ignored them entirely, but I did not focus on any of the boys, twisting and spinning away from one to end up in front of another who was just as interested in me. I flitted around them as if I was an apparition.

  Nothing could touch me.

  However, something finally did.