Mrs. Ellison gets me up at five-thirty. I'm bathed, my hair is brushed and coiled on top of my head, and then they put makeup on my face. They line my eyes and rouge my cheeks. Though the immigrant who does all this tells me I look pretty, I don't feel pretty. I feel like one of the China dolls I saw in a store on my first visit to the city. I am a child's toy. A thing. I want my old face back. I don't like the change.
After I am presentable, I eat breakfast at the table. The Ellisons don't talk to me. They talk about Mr. Ellison's work and Mrs. Ellison's troubles with agitators in the city, when they aren't sharing in mutual cold silence. Lawbreakers have increased by sixty percent since last year. I begin to understand that things are not as peaceful as they appear on the surface. There is crime, mostly in the outlying districts. She makes the case for more surveillance in these areas. Mr. Ellison agrees. He reads from his handheld while she talks. He barely seems to hear her. He tells her that the city is talking about my rescue and the attack on the city. My rescue interests people far more than the thought of the rebels closing in. They are all astonished a simple immigrant can save anyone. He says it with pride, as if my accomplishment is his. I know it is because it will reflect well on him.
At eight o'clock exactly Agent Crease arrives. She is let in by the blonde immigrant. The bearded man is with her. He carries a long bag over his left arm and shoes in his right hand. He hands both to me. "Hurry," he commands.
I go to my room and pull a dress out of the bag. It's soft and colorful. I've seen other girls in the city wearing similar dresses. It reminds me of Riley. It seems fashionable, but I have no way of knowing for sure. I pull it on and look down. It is one more thing that makes me feel like a stranger. The sandals are flat, with straps that wind around my ankles, and are perfect for my injured leg. They do not make me feel like I'm going to topple over.
I return and Agent Crease looks me over. She sniffs in disdain. "Acceptable."
"They'll eat her up," the man retorts. The woman shrugs in response.
"Here are your permitted responses," Agent Crease says, handing me a handheld. She eyes the armband I have pulled on out of habit. "Take the armband off for today. They won't want to see it on you. We must make them identify with you."
I pull it off and hand it to her and look down at the handheld. They have listed out all the possible responses to the questions I will most likely be asked. The responses are generic and full of rhetoric. My life depends on memorizing them all. I stare at the handheld for twenty minutes, then she takes it away from me. She drills me on the proper replies. Another test. Another lesson in obeying. I answer her questions perfectly. No one is surprised. It must be common for immigrants to know the proper answers. They have been programmed to do so.
"Good," Agent Crease finally says. "I think she's ready. Will your son be joining us?"
"He said he would," Mr. Ellison says, checking his watch.
"It's best if they see you as a family unit," Agent Crease replies. "It will bring more confidence to the people."
"And to the district," Mrs. Ellison adds.
They all nod. I begin to wonder if they're robots. Can they not think about anything besides the government and how they appear to the people? Have they been programmed as well? Or do they all just care about power too much to think beyond it?
The front door opens ten minutes later. It's Ace. He's wearing a different uniform than normal. He has on white pants and a long white jacket. He has a patch on his sleeve that shows the dagger and arrows, as well as a patch with wings. They match his tattoos. He has shiny gold pins on his collar. The white makes me realize I have thought of him all wrong. He isn't a guard for the city. He trains them, but he is not one. He's RFA.
"Are you certain you should be wearing that?" Mr. Ellison says stiffly when he sees Ace.
"My commanding officer thought it was a good idea," Ace replies just as coldly.
"Have they reinstated you to your unit?" Mrs. Ellison asks hopefully.
"No," Ace says. "But they are no longer as irritated as they once were. I've earned back some of their respect."
"Well, that's something at least," Mrs. Ellison says.
Ace shrugs and sits in the same chair he sat in last night. He looks out the window and sighs. I frown at the strangeness of the conversation and stare at the ground again as Agent Crease catches my eye. It's wrong to be looking.
"Very well, we should be going..." Agent Crease says politely.
The wheelchair is waiting for me at the bottom of the steps. I'm glad. The idea of walking had made a cold sweat break out over my body. I sit eagerly and Agent Crease pushes me down the road. They walk until we reach a small black grate embedded in the middle of the road. When we are all on the grate, it shutters and lifts up. I look up as we slowly ascend and see a row of waiting pods. More pods flash along the rail above us.
"The girl should ride with you," Agent Crease tells the Ellisons.
The man and Ace help me into the back of one of the pods. Ace sits next to me. We're so close our legs are touching, but he doesn't look at me. He hasn't looked at me once since arriving at the Ellisons' door. I don't know if he's trying to keep the others from noticing our connection or if it's because he doesn't like the change in me. The pod door closes behind the Ellisons, and Agent Crease and her friend get into another pod.
"Assembly," Mr. Ellison commands.
The pod lurches forward and turns sharply. We zoom along the rail behind another pod and the familiar swoop in my stomach as we slide down a slope and connect to another rail to the left is welcome relief from the drama of the moment. A smile transforms my face. I hide it quickly. I look out of the corner of my eye and see Ace having a similar moment.
The Assembly is the large building with the domed roof. Protestors still circle around, but they are farther away than their previous rally. More people are gathered around the partitions than my last visit. There are hundreds of them. They are curious and eager. Guards keep them corralled. People holding handhelds that can record me surround the steps.
Humphrey meets us at the pod and walks with us to the building. He is clearly in awe of the Ellisons. He treats them like royalty. His fawning annoys me but the Ellisons don't act phased. They are used to such treatment. Agent Crease walks up the stairs confidently when we reach the Assembly and stops midway up. She pulls a small device out of her pocket and clips it to her jacket. Her voice echoes around the square as she starts speaking.
"Thank you for coming out today," she says pleasantly. "I know you're all eager to hear from our hero. The girl I am about to introduce you to represents all the foundations of citizenship: self-sacrifice, discipline, and service. She put her own life at risk to save Junior Minister Humphrey. She was paid for her service by an injury to the leg. It is a reminder that our duties sometimes come with painful sacrifice."
I wonder what key words matter the most to her. Duty? Sacrifice? It's all a lie.
"I give you...Bree!" she adds.
Mr. Ellison and Ace put their hands around my waist and help me up the stairs. Ace's hand gives me courage. He secretly squeezes my side once before he lets me go. It's a reminder to keep calm and be smart. I have to be like him to survive. More importantly, I have to play the part they've given me to keep Max and Maria alive.
Agent Crease clips the device onto my dress, gives me a warning look, and then turns to face the crowd. They all look at me. No one has told me if I'm supposed to wait for questions or give a speech. I don't want to give a speech. It won't come out right.
"Um, hi," I say awkwardly.
The crowd laughs at my awkwardness, their smiles condescending and forgiving, then the people with handhelds raise their hands politely. They start asking me questions about the attack, my time at the facility, and my opinions on things that seem irrelevant to the issue. I have no idea why they want to know my favorite food. I answer the questions perfectly. I sense Agent Crease's approval. Her smile is radiant.
Finally, there a
re no more questions. Agent Crease takes the device off my dress and steps forward again. She takes more questions about the government's policies and the attack. She assures the public that it is an isolated incident and that the city is safe. She turns to Ace and congratulates him on stopping the attack. He modestly gives credit to the people in his unit and the people who serve on the wall. He claims he wouldn't have been there at all had his unit not been running drills; his point is that anyone could be standing where he is now. It was a matter of chance. The crowd instantly falls in love with him.
The conference ends and Mr. Ellison and Ace help me back to the wheelchair. I sit and feel someone wheel me away from the crowd. I don't look back to see who it is. I breathe a sigh of relief when I am far enough away to matter. I have passed the test. I have helped perpetuate the lies the government spreads to the masses, but I have passed.
I put my head in my hand and close my eyes. I picture Max's face. He's teasing me about something stupid I've said. His eyes are bright and his smile is full of fun. The picture brings me peace. It reminds me why I'm lying.
"You did well," Ace says quietly.
He's pushing me. The others have fallen behind to answer questions and make nice to the crowd. It's a photo opportunity the Ellisons are eager to use to their advantage. We've broken free of them. Ace has kept them from sweeping me up in the photo opportunity.
"I feel like washing my mouth out with soap," I say. "And like I haven't bathed in a year."
Ace chuckles. "I feel that way a lot."
"But you think they bought it?" I ask.
"Definitely," he says.
There's a pause. "Do you think they'll let me see Max?" I ask him thoughtfully. "If I ask nicely, I mean."
"Do you really want to draw attention to him?" Ace asks. "The government won't forget such a request."
"It's getting harder to remember what he looks like," I say sadly. "I mean, if I close my eyes and really focus, I can find him again, but when I'm moving around and doing things, I forget. It takes me longer to remember each day. What happens when I can't remember him at all? What if I pass him on the street and don't know him? What if the brainwashing takes the memory from me?"
Ace sighs. "He's in your eyes and your hair and the shape of your face. He's in the way you shoot and the strength you find when you need it most. He's in all the places that matter. You'll find him again."
"I'm beginning to think I won't," I say. "Life isn't fair. Why should it be fair to me? What makes me special?" I answer my own question. "Nothing, that's what."
Ace doesn't reply. He wheels me onto the platform and waits patiently for the others to catch up to us.
"How long will they make a pet of me?" I ask.
"For as long as they need the city to forget what happened," he says.
"What did happen?" I ask.
I don't think he's going to reply. The story is obviously top secret. When he speaks, his words are barely a whisper. "The rebels ambushed a lift out doing reconnaissance. They stole it and tried to get into the city, but the lift didn't have clearance. The soldiers on the wall knew they didn't belong. Gib says they want inside, for a very specific reason they didn't share with him. They were trying to find a way in before the fight you saw. That's why they were so close to the city."
"Do you know anything about that fight?" I ask.
"Like I said, the rebels Gib was with were a team sent to scout out possible ways inside. Gib called in the RFA when he realized what they were up to. The RFA was supposed to capture them so the government could question them and Gib could return to the camp and get closer to the leaders. But the rebels were a tougher fight than Gib was expecting. All his time with them and he didn't know them at all. Calling in the troops was premature. His plan backfired. You know the rest."
"Why can't he go back and try again?" I ask.
"Because intelligence gathered from the attack on your camp suggests there were a few survivors. They know Gib's face and that the attack happened soon after his escape. It's not difficult to put the pieces together. They don't want to risk him. Particularly as he's the son of the Minister of Defense."
"Gib's father is the man I met last night, isn't he?" I ask.
"Yes," Ace replies.
"No wonder Gib's psychotic," I say.
Ace laughs then gives a strange half-cough meant to cover the moment. I know why. I hear the Ellisons talking. They have finally caught up to us. Humphrey, Agent Crease and the bearded man are with them.
"We need to make several more appearances around the city," Agent Crease says. "Then the Ellisons can return to their jobs. I know how important your duties are to the city. We don't want to keep you from them."
"It's quite okay," Mr. Ellison says, tugging on the sleeve of his jacket as he preens himself. "My ratings will soar after today."
"Young Mr. Ellison can keep Bree company," Agent Crease says. "It will still reflect kindly on you both."
"Plus the young people will like to see them together without adult supervision," the bearded man adds. "It'll make them more relatable."
"Very well," Mr. Ellison says.
"Isn't there a party at one of the councilors' houses tonight?" Mrs. Ellison says thoughtfully. "I heard someone mention it yesterday at work."
"Yes," Ace replies. "To celebrate the anniversary of Victory Day tomorrow."
"Oh that's right. I'd forgotten about the holiday. It always sneaks up on me," Mrs. Ellison says.
"Victory Day is a perfect opportunity," Agent Crease says eagerly.
"I can't go, as I have work, but Ace should take Bree to the party," Mrs. Ellison decides.
"No," Ace replies instantly.
"Why not?" Mrs. Ellison says.
"Because I don't want to babysit her," Ace says. "I want to actually enjoy the party without having to watch her every minute."
"Don't be selfish," Mrs. Ellison chastises him. "Think of your family."
They all stare at him. His actions will reflect the Ellisons. He can't let them think he doesn't appreciate the need to be seen. He sighs in frustration and gives in. "Fine."
"Perfect," Agent Crease says. "Then tomorrow..."
She plans out my week in detail. She fully plans on me returning to the facility the day after tomorrow. I have to attend my classes in the morning, play the game after lunch and then I'm Agent Crease's for the rest of the day. I hope more than anything they do not need me longer than a week. I'll probably crack if they do.
I attend an opening of a government sponsored store, shake hands with people at the Ministry of Immigration, including Mr. Humphrey, while a crowd watches and takes video, visit the library that holds the historical documents saved from before the war, and tour the campus for young government officials in training. I encourage commerce, immigration, and propaganda all in a day.
The Ellisons, Humphrey and the man with the beard leave me after lunch to return to their work. I'm left with Agent Crease and Ace. Ace makes the day bearable. He talks to me whenever we have a moment alone. It's impressive how easily he slips between someone who can laugh and joke with me about the absurdities of the situation and someone who acts like I'm an irritation and a waste of time and space.
It's dinnertime when I am taken back to the Ellisons. Ace stays with me. We go to the kitchen and watch the servants - though none of the Ellisons call them that - prepare dinner. I learn the blonde woman who opened the door has been with the family since Ace was a child. Her name is Virginia. She's sweet and smiles often, but there is an emptiness to her. The brainwashing has taken the parts of her personality that matter. Ace doesn't talk to me in his open way around them. He doesn't trust them either.
We eat dinner alone at a large table. I'm told his parents often miss dinner because of work. Virginia saves their food for later. After dinner, Ace's girlfriend, who I learn is named Karen, comes over. I sit in the front room while they flirt in a large room of glass Ace calls the sunroom. I hear their voices clearly. I wish I could leave t
he house and explore the neighborhood. I know it's not allowed.
It's fully dark outside when Mrs. Ellison returns home. She's carrying a bag like the one the bearded man had and a pair of high-heeled shoes. She hands them to me and tells me to wait upstairs until it's time to go to the party. She doesn't want me underfoot for the calls she needs to make on her handheld. Despite being home, she's still at work. I hurry up the stairs with the dress and shoes and eagerly close my door. I can't hear Ace from my room. It's as much of a relief as being away from Mrs. Ellison's cold eyes.
I wait until it's nearly time to go, my thoughts on the party and how miserable it'll likely be, then finally open the bag. I stare at it in amazement. The dress has tiny black beads sewn into it. The beads change in color as the light hits them. The beads are made out of the same glass that maintains the game. I pull it on with the sinking suspicion that Mrs. Ellison will be very mad if I damage it.
I spin in a circle as I look down at the dress. The blue light that's circling the room makes it look like I'm wearing water. The dress fits me perfectly. An unaccustomed smile crosses my face. It falls almost immediately. The party will be hell. I'll have to be careful to appear happy, content and the perfect example of the government's retraining. It's an act that's wearing thin.
There's a knock at my door and then Mrs. Ellison walks inside without waiting for a response. She looks me over. "Beautiful," she says.
I'm surprised by the compliment. Maybe she means the dress rather than me. It's as likely as anything.
She purses her lips as she looks at me. She sees my green armband on the bed. She slips it on my arm. I don't know why she's so serious as she pulls it on, but I know it's to make sure everyone knows who I am. The people at the party will like to know they are superior to me.
"Your roll tonight is to make people feel good about themselves. You are to make them feel safe about living in the city. You are not the center of attention. They are. Remember your place."
I nod. I know my place. Everyone has made it very clear to me.
"Good girl," she says pleasantly. Somehow she makes it sound like a threat.
Ace and Karen are waiting for me in the front room. Ace's eyes widen slightly as he looks at me. So does Karen's. She smiles. She's the first person outside of Ace to look at me kindly.
"You're so pretty!" she gushes.
"Thank you," I murmur.
"Come on," Ace says brusquely. For some reason, he's agitated. The emotion doesn't make any sense, but I don't look at him for an answer. I don't want to see him in his suit. It'll just confuse me.
He pulls Karen out of the room. I follow them quietly, giving them enough space to walk ahead of me so they don't think I'm eavesdropping on their conversation. We don't take a pod. The house is not that far. We walk up the road, make a left at the corner and walk two more blocks.
At the end of the block there is a long, winding road. It's guarded by a gate. Ten people wearing red are along the front. They all look very serious. Several of them wave at Ace as we approach. He waves back cordially, though there is no real warmth in his expression. A long line has formed at the entrance. People are dressed in elegant outfits like mine. Ace doesn't join the line. He goes to the front and is immediately admitted. No one complains, even to their friends. They all know who he is and why he takes precedence.
People stare at me. More than one person is talking about the attack. They're now twice as eager to get inside. They want to talk to me, to be able to tell their friends they've had a conversation with the girl who is suddenly famous in the city. The walk up the drive takes us fifteen minutes. My feet hurt and my leg is killing me. My limp has turned into a waddle. I can't keep up with the others. Ace and Karen don't notice. They are too busy flirting and laughing. I want to punch them both.
The house at the end of the drive is spectacular. It has all the grace of a bird in flight and all the staying power of the rocks with which it is built. Scrollwork and reds and yellows beckon the visitor inside, and roses, ornamental bushes, and carefully pruned trees invites them to stay a little longer on the outside. The house holds charm I did not expect.
People move around the large yard. All races, genders and ages are around me. The party is loud and full of cheer. A sign above the front door of the house celebrates winning the war nine years ago. I wonder if any of them know about the fight in the woods. Peace is not the way I would describe the memory.
My jaw drops as a parade of five horses crosses the far side of the lawn. The horses and their riders are wearing red, gold and white. The riders dance and move along the horses' backs, entertaining the people with their acrobatic skill. Long ropes hang from tall poles; more people dance and twirl along the ropes in feats of strength and grace. There are jugglers tossing fire with elegant precision and women in long, colorful robes dancing in what looks a traditional way. There's a lot of life, laughter and vivid colors.
The interior of the house looks more like a museum than a place of comfort. Everything is large: the staircase, the rooms, the food, the laughter, the life. There are more entertainers inside. I feel out of place and eager to find a quiet corner. But I can't. I'm instantly noticed. Eyes first go to Ace and Karen, who take in the stares with calm, focus and poise, and then to me. I tense expectantly.
"This is the girl," Humphrey says, stepping in front of me.
Five people are with him. The women all look like boney chickens. Their necks even wobble when they move too quickly. They're all looking at me like I am a specimen in a lab. I fix my expression into a smile. I know they will be doing most of the talking. I just have to look like I enjoy it.
"Saved my life. Wouldn't be here without her," Mr. Humphrey adds.
"Curious!" a woman says.
"Interesting," another adds.
"I thought she'd be taller."
"Stronger, maybe."
They gather around me and cluck and cluck and cluck. At camp we snapped chickens' necks when they outlived their usefulness and cooked them for dinner. Here I have to pretend like I enjoy their clucking.
Mr. Humphrey and his chickens are not the only people to surround me. I'm passed around the room like a shiny bauble or a bit of string. I smile so much that I wonder if my face will ever return to normal. The muscles in my face ache. My leg trembles with the need to sit down. I wonder if standing so much will make the wound reopen. I can't stand the thought of added days at the Ellison house. I almost long for Benny's glares. He does not have their power and control. He's not so intimately tied up in the power plays of the city. He's too manic to really know how to bring terror to my heart.
It's nearly midnight when I'm finally left alone and manage to find a quiet place to sit. I hear from the others that the councilwoman has made her appearance. I don't meet her. I am not important enough. She circles the room once and then leaves again. I also hear from their conversation that a tribute to the war is expected at midnight. It's more propaganda to make the people feel like the outside world is a dangerous place.
"There you are," a voice says in my ear. I jump and then relax. It's just Ace. He's holding a glass in his hand and his face is flushed.
"Hi," I say.
"I knew you wouldn't want to come. I tried to talk them out of it. But they never listen to me," Ace says. "Sorry."
"It's okay," I say.
"No," he disagrees. He takes a sip of his drink. "How's your leg?"
"Acting like it wants to beat me to death for walking so much," I say.
He shakes his head in agitation and I sense his frustration. He doesn't apologize again, though. We both know there is nothing we can do about it. Ace doesn't waste his time hashing over things that can't be fixed. It's a trait I admire.
"I just saw Gib," he admits. "He's here with Riley. You should probably avoid her."
"I will," I promise.
I can't see her. Riley will see straight through me. She'll know I'm lying with every breath, and I don't know if she'll tell Gib. I don't know h
er nearly as well as I thought I did. Too, I'm not certain of my reaction. Seeing Riley and Gib together might be all the catalyst I need to lose my temper.
There's a long pause. Ace and I watch the room. Most of the people are drunk. They are laughing, arguing and having the sort of fun I can't allow myself to have.
"I have doubts, you know," Ace tells me quietly.
I glance at the glass in his hand. I wonder how much he's had to drink and if he's lost some of his typical control. I don't want him to say something that will get him in trouble.
"Doubts?" I ask carefully.
"I wonder if I'm doing enough for the people. I've worked so hard and kept everything that's real buried deep for so long...I know I've helped a lot of people, and that it's worth the cost of my personal happiness, but it doesn't feel like enough."
I look around the crowd. No one is paying us attention, but I worry about listening devices. We are literally in the house of one of the highest leaders in the city.
"Ace..." I try to warn him.
"I mean, I've given up on things that I really want..." He pauses sadly. "I love being a pilot. I love going on missions. I had to deliberately wreck a lift to get this job training the police. It was a choice that means I may never fly for the city again. I only fly sporadically now, when we have drills or the facility needs a pilot. The only reason I was with my old unit the other day was because the original pilot for the drill got sick at the last minute. I was the second choice. They don't call me Ace because I'm second."
"Ace!" I hiss.
"But it's worth it," he decides brightly. "I can live without flying. I can't live with myself if I let innocent people die."
I clamp my hand over his mouth and swear at him violently to get him to stop talking. His eyes widen as he looks at me. I don't know if it's the touch or my curse that has caught his attention, but I can tell he's surprised. He finally looks down at his drink and understanding dawns. He knows he's said too much. He's spent too long hiding his thoughts from the world to forget the danger. I remove the hand and he swirls his drink around for a minute.
"Whoops," he adds softly.
I laugh. The way he says it is just too comical. I search the crowd again for proof that we're being watched. Everyone is busy partying. I wonder where Karen is. No one would notice them together like they would us. They're the perfect couple.
"You do enough," I say quietly after a minute. "You do what you can, which is more than a lot of people."
I stand and walk away from him, knowing I can't let the others see us sitting so closely, with his body angled toward me and his leg touching mine. It will send the wrong message. Mrs. Ellison's words are in my ears: Know your place.
I push my way through to the other side of the room and instantly see Gib and Riley. I silently swear at my bad luck and turn away. Riley is holding Gib's arm and smiling happily. She's wearing a beautiful dress and looks elegant. I've never seen her look so posh. As I turn away, I realize the movement is too late. She's seen me. I turn around again, expecting her to be staring or making her way to me. She's still talking to her friends. Nothing about her expression suggests she's seen anything distressing. We're strangers. We're nothing to one another.
I know Riley well enough to know she would not simply look at me indifferently. She would feel something, be it anger, guilt or confusion. She wouldn't just look through me, even if she's angry. I search her face. Everything about it is wrong. Her expressions, her smile, and the way she holds herself aren't the same.
They've gotten to her.
I don't know how or why but they've brainwashed her. They've made her forget about me and maybe even camp. In her mind, she's always lived in the city. My stomach churns uncomfortably at the thought. I know it's my fault for telling her the truth of camp. I know I'm next. My future is in her foreign expressions. I will just as easily look through people I love. I will one day look through Max.
I walk out of the room, the sickness churning in my stomach as I silently mourn for the loss of Riley and for the future that awaits me.
Chapter 22