| |
“PEOPLE WILL BELIEVE just about anything, if they see it on the Infomedia.”
Connor couldn’t help overhearing the sarcastic comment as he exited the café.
The patio table nearest the café’s exit was crowded. The young patrons had pulled up extra chairs, and their lively banter caught his attention. He recognized a few of them from university. Not friends, or even acquaintances, but faces he knew by sight if not by name.
He couldn’t explain why he’d returned to this spot when there were dozens of other options available. Madison and Reagan’s deaths hung heavy over the area, although the rest of the bustling crowd seemed to have already forgotten. The Café Espresso had re-opened a few days earlier, under a new name—Elemental Coffee. The proprietors appeared eager to rebrand their establishment’s reputation after the previous month’s terrorist attack.
Connor hoped the students wouldn’t notice him, but his desire was short-lived. Several saw him glance their way when he’d overheard their conversation, and called out to him.
“Let me guess—the new security measures?” He raised his voice, feigning nonchalance. “It’s all the Infomedia talks about, all day, every day. It’s a little over the top, if you ask me.”
One of the students pulled out an empty chair, gesturing for him to join them. Connor shook his head, scrambling for a plausible excuse. “Thanks, but I have to keep moving. Mid-term exams aren’t that far off.”
“They’ve started implanting people already.” The breathless comment came from a girl on the opposite side of the table. Connor almost dropped his latte. He didn’t recognize her, but her barely-contained enthusiasm was jarring. “The Council’s implementing the new security measures. It’s about time—the threat from the savages is getting worse.”
Connor hid his reaction behind a hasty gulp. He winced as the hot liquid burned his tongue.
Mateo’s right: it IS ironic. Darcy created the Implants to use against the collaborators, and now the Enclave’s Council is going to implant all of us in the name of “security.”
There was a murmur of assent around the table, sprinkled with affirming comments about the latest Infomedia reports. Connor knew what they were referring to. He’d seen the news: patriotic Citizens lining up to volunteer for the new security chips. It had been the lead story all morning.
The consensus of the Infomedia’s panel of self-appointed experts was an enthusiastic endorsement of the new security measures. Every Citizen, district by district, would receive a security chip, implanted in their right forearm. For the good of the Enclave.
“Have you heard the new label they’re giving the security chips?” The guy who’d offered Connor a chair laughed as he shared his tidbit of knowledge. “They’re calling them ‘anodynes.’ Or nodes, for short.”
He leaned back in his chair, laughing again. “I guess they thought ‘security tracking chip’ sounded too clinical, or something. So now the Council’s promoting it as the Anodyne Initiative. It’s all just a marketing ploy.”
“What’s wrong with that?” The first girl was ready to take up the challenge. “Anodyne means soothing or relaxing. It’s a reminder we don’t have to live in constant fear of savages sneaking into the Enclave. The nodes are for our protection.”
“Doesn’t it also mean bland?” Connor felt his blood boil at her unquestioning acceptance of Council propaganda. He tried, but couldn’t disguise his sarcasm. “As in: ‘Hey, no big deal, but we’re going to monitor you wherever you go’?”
“It’s for the good of the Enclave.” Chair Guy glowered at him, all traces of friendliness gone. His body language was angry and combative, ready to rise to the Council’s defense.
Connor struggled to control himself. The patio was under video surveillance, as was much of the Enclave. He clenched his teeth and managed to bite back an angry retort.
Another student across the table—Connor had never seen him before—bolted forward, spoiling for a fight. “Citizens have the right to be safe inside the Enclave. The savages would jump at the chance if we let our guard down. They’re getting through our borders far too often, as it is.”
“Are you a Citizen of the Enclave, or not?” The ultimatum came from the girl, who was beginning to eye Connor with suspicion. “Everyone has a responsibility to protect our way of life. Complying with the Anodyne Initiative is our civic duty. It’s a simple as that.”
Connor took a deep breath, clamping down hard on his racing thoughts. Don’t make a scene. The eyes of the Givers are everywhere. He managed, with effort, to keep his voice light and conversational.
“You’re absolutely right.” he said, hoping to distract from his earlier gaffe. “The savages need to learn their place. That’s outside the Enclave.”
You’re gullible about the Givers, but at least we’re on the same page about the savages. “If that means getting a node for the good of the Enclave, then so be it.”
He saluted the group with his latte. “I do have to go. Sorry if anything I said came across wrong . . .”
His apology was lame and insincere, and he knew it, but several heads nodded around the table. They were bored with the topic already. Chair Guy was the lone exception, his shrewd look of appraisal unchanged.
Connor turned his back on them and strolled toward the nearest travelator, feigning an interest in his latte. There was a brief pause, and then the students resumed their animated conversation. He could still pick out the girl’s eager voice.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea. Tomorrow—why don’t we all meet here? We can downtown and get our nodes together.”