I’M TRYING TO talk sense into Lamont, but it’s no use. Now that breakfast is over, he wants to go outside and explore the city, looking for Margo. As if she were just going to be walking down the street on a Saturday stroll.
“Lamont, you’re a fugitive, remember? You escaped from the police! That’s no joke!”
“Look, I’m not going to find her by hiding out in this apartment,” he says. “If you won’t go with me, I’ll go out by myself!”
I can tell he’s not going to be reasonable about this. So I reach into a drawer and pull out two plastic animal masks. One panda. One raccoon. If he wants to go roaming the streets in the middle of the morning, we need cover.
“Take your pick,” I tell him.
“Don’t be ridiculous!” he says.
“Lamont, there are cameras everywhere! FR can pick you out in a crowd of a thousand people!”
Lamont looks puzzled.
“FR? Who’s that?”
“FR,” I say. “Facial recognition.” I try to think of something he might be able to relate to. “It’s kind of like a Wanted poster—but electronic—and it’s everywhere. This is how we beat it.” I hold up the masks. He shrugs, and picks the panda. Looks like I’m the raccoon.
A minute later, we’re on the street. We walk one block and already there’s a bottleneck. On weekends, there’s a different rhythm in the city. More kids running loose. Bigger crowds. More unapproved gatherings. More potential for crackdowns.
Up ahead, I see a platform in the middle of the street with two men standing on it. I recognize them from posters. Franklin and DeScavage, two local councilmen.
“I won’t compromise on this!” Franklin is shouting.
“You don’t have a choice!” DeScavage shouts back.
They’re arguing about the location of a med clinic. It happens all the time. Since the only hospital in the city is reserved for government officials and rich people, the rest of us have to make do with paramedics and bandages. Sometimes where the clinics end up depends on who can raise the rowdiest crowd.
“What’s this?” asks Lamont. “What’s going on?”
I pull him off to the edge of the crowd. “Medical stuff,” I tell him. “They’re arguing about healthcare.”
Usually speakers bring portable microphones to these events, but these two are just shouting at each other from ten feet apart. I can hear them from where we’re standing. Franklin yells that his district has more seniors. DeScavage yells back that his district has more pregnancies. The crowds on both sides are getting more agitated, shoving closer to the stage. I can see that DeScavage’s crowd is younger and more charged up.
The DeScavage side starts to shout Franklin down. He’s getting angry and red in the face.
All of a sudden, a huge guy from DeScavage’s crowd jumps onto the platform. He shoves Franklin backward and knocks him off his feet. Now the other side moves forward. People start kicking and punching. Women are screaming. Faces are getting bloody. It’s total chaos.
I tug on Lamont’s sleeve.
“We need to go,” I say. “Now!”
We duck between two buildings and find some space in an alley. The inside of my mask stinks like melted rubber. I figure it’s safe to take it off back here. The second I pull off my mask, Lamont pulls his off too.
“It’s unbelievable!” says Lamont. “This place has turned into an insane asylum!”
“It’s like the Third Reich under Hitler,” I mumble. It takes Lamont a second to absorb the name.
“Adolf Hitler?” he asks, as we head down the alley.
“Finally!” I say. “Somebody besides Roosevelt that you’ve actually heard of!”
“Hitler. With the goofy mustache?” Lamont asks.
“That’s the one,” I say.
“Yes! I remember,” says Lamont. “He was that creepy little guy who was getting Germany all riled up!” I can see him getting excited, picking up steam, proud that he’s remembering.
“He did more than that,” I say.
“It got worse?” says Lamont. “What happened? What did he do?”
“Lamont,” I say, “I don’t even know where to start.”