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“We break into our regularly scheduled Citizen News broadcast to bring you live coverage of the Namaqualand nuclear power disaster. There are reports of another massive explosion in the same general area.”
My first reaction to the respite from reruns of the Year 1AG Fundraising Marathon was relief. The same loop of D-list celebrity concerts and slick emcees begging for money had been piped into our chips for the past two months, one leading up to the anniversary, and one since.
Then the new images took over and I wished for Lixan to come back, fake crying and all.
“Our affiliates in South Africa have a man on the ground, however he can only get within one mile of the plant. Our HNN Action Drones are in the airspace surrounding the facility to bring you the most accurate, up to the minute coverage. We take you there live. Narran, what can you tell us?”
A large man with a brown suit, tight around the chest and biceps appeared in my mind’s eye. The reporter stood in front of a blockade, guarded by two much larger men. He held a small controller in his hand. Punching a few keys, he brought the scene behind him into focus.
The nuclear power plant, which occupied several city blocks, lay bare, ripped to shreds. Fires burned in multiple points behind the journalist, leaping out of the building and falling to start new blazes in the barren grounds beneath. Black metal twisted downward, looking as though the earth had swallowed half of the silo.
//Is that gonna affect us?// I chipped to Howie.
//Dunno. It’s South Africa. I don’t think power’s shippable. But it could affect costs.//
//Nobody uses money anyway.//
//I think the Sister Nations are trying to keep money in circulation. H-Net showed —//
//Wonk.//
//You know that word’s a compliment right? I don’t know why you insist —//
//Shh!// I strained to hear the reporter over Howie. He didn’t interrupt again.
“Just moments ago, I spoke with the head of Environmental Affairs at Namaqualand.” The reporter looked down at his controller and pushed a button, then said, “Giving my translators a moment to buffer; this is quite a remote area —”
The news anchor broke in, “Narran does that mean that this situation is contained? In such a remote area, the chance for widespread outages, or damage, should be mitigated, correct?”
Narran shook his head. “Unfortunately, that is not the case here, Kedgel.” He tapped his controller again. “According to Ms. Skoon, the cause of the failure was a prolonged inability to maintain proper cooling in the core reactor. As one might expect, there’s a fine line between creating the energy necessary to run a power plant this size... and disaster. After the Glitch, there just wasn’t enough manpower to keep the facility running at full capacity.”
Pausing for a moment, Narran stared at the camera, then back at his control screen. A pained look fell across his face; his eyes widened and he opened his mouth as if to speak, but no words came out. Then, as quickly as it came over him, it was gone. “Sorry, I seem to be...” He shook his head and continued. “Ms. Skoon advised us that they requested emergency assistance from the Council four months ago, but were informed that there wasn’t enough personnel to go around. She was instructed at that time to go into Emergency Operations Mode — Priority A and B customers only — and that worked for a while...”
Again Narran looked straight into the camera, eyes twitching, and froze. He blinked once, turned toward the blockade on his right, and got right in the faces of the two guards. He screamed at them, flecks of saliva flying from his mouth, “This! This is what happens when you kill your own! This is what happens the elite rule the masses! They decide who lives!”
Narran pushed the barrier over and ran full speed toward the power plant. Both guards pulled their guns and took aim, yelling something in Afrikaans that I assumed meant ‘stop’. He didn’t.
//What’s going on?// I transmitted to Howie.
//Shh!// was his reply.
The anchor, Kedgel, stammered, “Uh... I think... It seems as if Narran’s been hacked.”
HNN’s drones raced from the building, trying to catch up with Narran. The reporter ran straight for them, into the contamination zone. All the while he screamed obscenities about the Council and the Sister Nations.
Over the scene, Kedgel struggled to gain his composure, yelling, “Cut the feed! Cut the feed!”
The two guards stopped running after Narran and lowered themselves into identical firing stances. I tried to close my eyes, but it was no use. The broadcast continued.
Two shots rang out, so close in time they almost sounded as one.
In the foreground, Narran jerked, red mist exploding from his back. He took two more steps and collapsed.
Then, moments too late, the scene faded to black as Kedgel gasped, “What the —”
My sentiments exactly.
###
“COME ON BIT.” I FOLDED my arms across my chest and tapped my foot. “This bag’s heavy.” I adjusted the wide strap over my shoulder, rubbing the now permanent indent it had left over the past few months.
“I’m coming!” The newly five-year-old yelled from his room.
I muttered an exhale of, “Obviously not cuz I’ve been standing here forever.”
“I can’t find my shoe!”
“Well I don’t know where it is! Hurry up! You’re gonna wake up Mommy!”
Mom’s sleep-heavy voice wafted down the stairs. “I’m not asleep. I’m just resting my eyes.”
“She’s just resting her eyes!” Brooks repeated at the top of his lungs.
I closed my eyes. “That’s ‘Mom’ for get your butt out of this house!” I dropped the backpack on the floor, massaged my shoulder and neck, and tugged on my ponytail. Smoothing the thick brown waves back, my fingers worried over a lump. I combed at it with chipped black fingernails but that only made it worse. Crap.
I snatched the hair tie, displacing a clump of long knotted strands with it. Flinging the offenders on the floor, I held the tie between my teeth and rummaged through my bag. I pulled out a brush and ran my finger over the button on the thin blue handle. Bristles emerged from the flat square top.
I’d just started dragging it through my hair when Brooks bounded down the stairs. “Come on!” He furrowed his tiny brows at me.
“Hush it or you can stay home.” I threatened through the rubber band still in my mouth.
Brooks took a deep breath and pursed his lips, a yell of ‘Mommmyyyy’ forming.
“Don’t you dare. Just give me a sec.” I worked furiously to finish my hair.
Brooks gave me exactly that, one second, and then bolted to the door. “Marcus said they’re waiting for us!”
“What did I tell you about chipping?” I fastened my mess into an even worse ponytail than the one I’d taken down, and tossed the brush onto the couch. Its bristles retreated back inside the blue square. Jerking the backpack by one shoulder strap I chased Brooks out the door.
He hadn’t stopped running, but his short legs couldn’t get him far. “It’s fine. We found a secret channel.” He said, beaming over his shoulder.
“Nothing’s secret anymore, Bit.” I slammed the door behind me.
“You do it.”
“You know it’s different with me. You and Marcus can’t risk being caught.”
Brooks stopped short a few feet ahead, then backed toward me, never turning.
It only took a moment to catch him, and see.
On the road in front of us a line of tanks blocked both directions. Soldiers in brown fatigues milled around the perimeter, not quite patrolling, but walking with purpose.
I yanked Brooks behind a withered tree and crouched beside him. “I knew it,” I snapped, pushing the boy’s hair off his neck.
Brooks squirmed out of my grip. “You rushed me.”
Twigs crunched beside the tree making me drop the gauze pad I’d retrieved from my bag. I put a finger to my lip and Brooks pinched his mouth shut. Turning as slowly and silently as possible, I held the pad behind me for him.
“What are you kids doing?” A man’s voice broke through the silence I’d tried to create.
“Uh, my little brother didn’t tie his shoe.” I stood, straightening myself as tall as my thinning frame would go. My eyes stayed fixed on the ground where I examined the soldier’s boots. Light swam over the toes to be absorbed by the thin black socks.
“You can’t be out here alone.” The man belonging to the voice pulled a scanner wand out of his camouflage jacket. He towered over me, which wasn’t hard, but still caused my throat to go dry. Everywhere I looked, muscles and straining fabric met my gaze. At least someone around here was getting enough to eat. “What are your serial numbers?” The soldier demanded.
“5562391877 and 6122388024,” I rattled off. “But we don’t have our chips anymore.” I pointed to the gauze pad behind my ear while my eyes tracked the metal scanning wand in the soldier’s hand.
“Why are you out here?” He tapped the wand on the side of his pants leg.
“Supplies. Our neighbor was going to give us some food. Our Mom’s —” I let that hang in the air, hoping to elicit sympathy and silence.
The soldier frowned and inspected us a little closer, wasting frames and dirty clothes supporting my story. His eyes steadied on Brooks and the filthy gauze pad behind his ear.
Just as he was raising the wand, Brooks tugged at loose tape on a corner. “Mine’s oozing. Wanna see?”
The soldier stepped back and closed his eyes, turning his head away. “That’s alright son. You two just hurry on up and get where you’re going. It’s not safe out here.”
Grabbing Brooks’s hand and the backpack I wasted no time following orders.
//You coulda got us busted!// I silently reprimanded when we were out of reach of the soldier’s wand.
//I’m sorry. I got scared.//
//It’s fine. Let’s just hurry.//
A moment passed in silence before Brooks chipped again, //I forgot the gravball.//
###
THAT NIGHT, AFTER A wasted trip to Sector A — Howie and Marcus had to go back home by the time we got there — I went to bed early. I was exhausted, yes, but really I wanted to veg out, lay on my bed and listen to Fox. Let his voice lull me to sleep so I didn’t have to think about anything.
When we’d gotten home just after dark, I fed Brooks and myself and sent him upstairs. Mom said she had already eaten a sandwich, but I knew better. She hadn’t moved from her bed. She was getting worse. Everything she ate just came right back up. So she tried not to eat for as long as possible. She said it was a waste of good food, food that should go to us.
On days like that one, the bad days when she could barely speak and didn’t bother to move, I worried she was giving up. I’d wake up one morning and find her body. It would be just me and Brooks forever.
Not wanting to think about that, about anything, for one more second, I ran upstairs and jumped in bed.
Fox’s voice filled the room. “There are no words. Sometimes I don’t even know what to say to comfort you anymore.”
I sighed and almost turned off the radio. More bad news. I couldn’t handle more bad news. But I’d grown accustomed to Fox tucking me in at night. I couldn’t risk not hearing his voice at night. Whatever he had to say couldn’t be worse than being alone with my thoughts. I sighed again and rolled over, only half listening.
“When I decided to stay on the air after the Glitch, I thought I’d be a beacon of hope for you listeners. I thought... I thought if you could tune in, wherever you were, night or day, and find a familiar voice, it would somehow let you know that everything would be alright. I could bring you stories of people helping each other. Communities banding together. People reuniting with loved ones they thought they’d lost.” Fox’s voice cracked and he took a deep breath.
When he spoke again, it was calm, measured. “Now... now day in and day out I’m bombarded with horrific images. Pleas for help from women whose children are starving in their arms. Bodies piled up on the side of the roads, major roads in the hearts of our Nation’s greatest cities.
“I ask for help. I broadcast your stories and I beg the people in power, what contacts I’ve made over the years... I beg for aid, for emergency services to be sent to those in need. And now.”
I couldn’t help myself. I sat up.
Fox took a deep breath, dragging out the words he had to say next. “Reports are coming in that soldiers... men dressed as soldiers, let me rephrase that... these men are accosting the very people they’re sworn to protect. Now, I understand that many local law enforcement offices have been forced to accept volunteers. These are not trained police or soldiers. They are, however, held to the same laws and oaths as the branch of government they represent. If these truly are sworn officers, then it’s an egregious abuse of trust. And even if they’re only volunteers, you’re wearing a symbol of hope. The people you’re supposed to be helping have nothing left. Nothing! For you to further violate them!”
Fox was panting at this point. Screaming through the speakers. I lowered the volume, hoping to spare my mom and Brooks.
//Howie?//
No answer.
Again Fox regained his composure. “I don’t want to come on here and tell you good citizens to fear those who come to help you. If I condone ‘every man for himself’ behaviors, I’m perpetuating the problem. But... I can’t in good conscience tell my listeners to open their doors to strangers, even those in sheeps’ clothing. So, for now, I’ll just say beware. Be cautious. Keep your loved ones safe.
“With that, I must sign off. I have been neglecting my own loved ones lately. I need to remember, myself, what’s important in life. In the life we’ve been dealt.”
Completely freaked out, I shoved myself in the space between my bed and my wall and waited for sleep, eyes wide open.