I don't plan on eavesdropping. I just heard my name, so I duck behind a corner without even thinking about it. Leaving seems silly when I can just listen for a bit and find out what is being said. I lean my head as close to the edge of the wall as possible to catch the conversation.
I hear Rafe's voice. "She's got great instincts, and her mapping skills are excellent."
"That's good to hear. I had wondered about her placement after the incident in her hometown." The voice is a man's and sounds recognizable, but I resist the urge to peek and potentially give myself away.
"I can see why you were concerned, but I assure you that she has put all of her efforts into this role. I see great potential." A smile spreads across my face when I hear Rafe say this. I've never been a standout kid who was noticed for anything exceptional, and now my skills are being recognized. My head swells with pride, just a little.
That familiar voice interjects again. "When do you think she'll be ready to join her counterpart? I've tentatively selected someone for her, and he's ready to get started immediately."
There is a brief pause. "I would say less than a week. First, I want to introduce her to some software programming, as I believe she'll be quite adept. I think it would benefit her work with you to understand various network applications, especially if she could eventually be accessing backdoors into systems or performing overrides to obtain information."
I imagine the other man's head nodding and wish I could see this whole interaction. "Good."
"I have to tell you, her work in Clearcreek surpassed my expectations. I'm sure you've received a briefing, but thought you should know that her trajectories were spot on and allowed the Sweeper to move in completely undetected." Rafe's complement is confusing to me. While I had plotted the most efficient routes, I'm not sure what he means by a Sweeper following my paths. I never saw anyone move in after I had finished the task.
"Excellent. That was a sensitive situation that could've turned ugly if our actions had been discovered."
"I agree. But all targets were eliminated and staged without incident, and I feel that a large part of the success rests in Enora's innate ability." Rafe's voice is dripping with pride while my mind begins to piece together what he's saying.
"She is an asset to the program. You will hear from me shortly with her assignment." I can hear their bodies shift as the man adds, "Keep up the good work."
Their footsteps eventually recede, and I find myself sliding to the floor. A Sweeper came in after me? Of course, I know what a Sweeper is. You don't go through any training here without an overview of the various roles we could be assigned to. Sweepers are just what their name implies. They come in and clean up the mess. But I was supposed to be using my mapping skills to search for resources. Not this. This was just a test, a way to see how advanced my abilities have become.
A thought floats through my brain that my assumptions were just that, ideas with no real substance. Regardless, this is what I had been prepared to do. Finding water in our dry world was a perfect way to put my skills to use. I never faced the other possibilities.
Why else would they ask you to map a town, Enora? It feels like a betrayal, but it's my own betrayal, if it is. I'm the one who convinced myself it would be this harmless thing. No one did that for me.
Oh, God. A Sweeper came in after me. Rafe said he eliminated targets. I tell myself that I didn't know it wasn't my fault, but that's not true. I knew something was off but had ignored my instincts. My role isn't generating digital intelligence data for the people's good. It's creating a way to snuff out the undesirable elements in the most efficient way possible, with no witnesses and no recourse.
I have become a weapon.
The knowledge shakes me as nothing ever has. It wasn't supposed to be like this. I feel so stupid! I've thrown myself into the training. In fact, now that I look at myself, I mean truly look, where am I? Where is that girl whose utopia consisted of quiet camaraderie and some shade to rest under? It feels as though parts of me have been slowly erased, no dramatic shift, simply a careful process through which I morphed into a weapon, their weapon. When I look at myself in the mirror, will I see Enora? Or will I see a drone?
I get up from my hidden spot and head for the dorm, hoping to avoid anyone on my way. Once there, I take a quick glance to make sure I'm alone before running to the comfort of my bed. I sit on my bunk, wishing I had never overheard Rafe. My stomach roils with the knowledge of what I was a part of. This is not what the DMC is supposed to represent. They are here to protect us, not harm. Only those people who are traitors should be targets.
I calm myself and take a few deep breaths. I need to think this over. What if those people the Sweeper eliminated were water traitors? Would this punishment be appropriate? I feel myself rationalizing the consequences when Safa's face enters my mind.
Could I map a route to kill her? No. There is nothing she could do that would convince me to just take her life.
What if those people in Clearcreek were just like Safa? No, no, they were not like Safa. Safa was a kid, and this wouldn't happen to a kid. She's probably back at home right now, bruised and battered but wiser. The people in Clearcreek must have been a part of a rebel faction or something. Perhaps they were water traitors on such a large scale that the whole town has been suffering for a long time.
I play this scenario over in my head. The DMC wouldn't do this to Safa. These people were true traitors. It has to be that.
Drake is waiting for me outside the refectory for the evening meal.
I must still look like a wreck because he asks, "Hey, you feeling okay?"
He must not know. I imagine the truth is stamped across my face. I feel like I must look different…murderer. It may have been for the right reasons, but the stain of guilt is there. I helped take lives. They may have been rebels, but they were also human beings. I feel like it's changed me.
But I lie and tell him, "Yeah, I was feeling queasy earlier, but I'm fine now."
I avert my eyes, hoping that he won't see the fib in them. When I don't reply, I peek at him and find his brows knit in a frown. He knows. He sees it. But then he looks up, shakes it off, and pulls me along through the doors.
I can feel myself withdrawing from him as we sit at what has become our usual table by the window. He's unobtrusive, perhaps sensing my mood, and doesn't push me for conversation. It is this quiet acceptance that is nearly my undoing. I need to purge myself. Get the venom out, but I force myself to rein it in by biting the inside of my cheek.
He finally breaks the silence. "I heard Rafe talking about you this morning."
My eyes spring to his in alarm. But, oh God, does he know? Will he look at me differently now?
"Yeah, he was singing your praises all right. You know, about how you set a new personal best yesterday."
I give a jerky nod as he pauses. "Thanks a lot, by the way. I mean, you know I'm never going to be able to top that, right? You're making me look bad," he says with a smile.
I sit there, waiting for the proverbial 'other shoe' to drop, but it doesn't. That's all he says.
"Is that all Rafe said?" I ask, hoping he'll say yes but dreading that he'll say no.
"What? Those praises aren't good enough for you?" His eyes are sparkling, and a grin is playing around the corners of his mouth. "Well, Miss Ego, unfortunately, yeah, that's all that he said. Never said a word about me." He tries to look glum, but the chuckle ruins it.
I pull myself together, plastering a phony condescending look on my face, and say, "I guess I could give you some pointers."
He guffaws, shakes his head, and plows through his food. I force myself to put on a mask that shields my inner battle and struggle through the meal, adding small bits of conversation to avoid appearing indifferent while also avoiding suspicion. It's not easy, but sadly I am getting better at the deception. Soon, it'll be second nature, and I will find myself able to hide everything.
I toss and turn in my bunk that night, replaying the scene from Clearcreek over and over in my head. The guilt is crushing. I feel as though there is a boulder sitting on my chest, and no matter how I shift my body, there is no relief. Dawn is approaching, and I don't know what to do. I can't tell Drake. I mean, maybe he'd turn me in for being a traitor to the Company. A dark image creeps into my mind, Drake, crouched with a Sweeper, hunting for targets. Does he know why we're being trained? I want to deny it, but I fear that he does. And beneath that fear, a dread that he embraces it. I force my mind to go back to those shades of gray. I need to do my part for the DMC, but I also need to hold onto my humanity. I fear that the moment I see these traitors as less than human is when I lose myself entirely.
By the time the sun filters through the windows, I have made the only decision I can regarding Drake. I will pretend that I heard nothing of Rafe's conversation and will bury my anxiety under a façade of dedication to my training. I will watch and wait. It's my only choice.