Chapter 27
“Emmy, why are you chatting me? I told you we shouldn’t chat anymore.”
“I don’t know where else to turn, Liz. I don’t want A.M. to detect my fear.”
“Who is A.M.?”
“Never mind.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
“Where do I begin?”
“I don’t have time for that, Emmy.”
“For what?”
“For you to go over the whole thing.”
“Why is everyone always in a rush? My mother never video chats me because she’s always multi-tasking, my dad’s too tired to chat at all, and now you want me to get to the point.”
“People have things to do. Doing one thing at a time is inefficient. Who can afford to make you center of City?”
“Can’t they just pay attention to a person for once?”
“That’s a bit narcissistic, don’t you think?”
“Once in a while, couldn’t I ask for undivided attention?”
“Emmy, you’re the one that didn’t want to talk to me.”
“I apologize for that. You said we were once good friends, the best of friends. Can’t we remember our friendship for one night?”
“Go backwards?”
“Not backwards. Why does everyone always think I’m an affront to progress? Couldn’t the present incorporate the past; couldn’t some things survive into the future?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“So you are my friend?”
“Yes, Emmy.”
“And you’re listening?”
“Yes.”
“No music?”
“I’ll take off my headset.”
“Then can we video chat?”
“My hair is off. I haven’t done my make-up. You have my undivided attention, but let’s stick with chat.”
“Fine. What not.”
“Why are you afraid, Emmy?”
“Courage seems to waiver the closer I get to freedom.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want to lose what I still have.”
“I can understand that.”
“Really?”
“I think so.”
“When? When have you felt that way?”
“Emmy, don’t do that to me. Just tell me why you are afraid. What do you still have? What might you lose?”
“Hope.”
“Hope?”
“I just said that, Liz.”
“I know you did, but I don’t understand how you’re using the term.”
“Hope keeps me going. I’ve struggled through it all because of the hope in reaching my reward. If I fail, then I’ve got nothing. What will I do without even hope?”
“You’ll become like the rest of us.”
“I thought you were going to change things?”
“I am, but that doesn’t mean I have hope for myself. By the time I change things, my life will be decided, spent. I can only hope to make the world better for the next generation.”
“Is that all one can ever do?”
“That’s all I can do.”
“Why?”
“I’m too attached to the rewards.”
“What rewards?”
“You won’t make fun of me?”
“Never again.”
“Parental approval, City approval, Mod approval. I have earned so many awards, so much admiration. Those things define me. I wouldn’t want to lose that. The only way to surpass what I’ve done in mastering the rationale is one day to improve it.”
“Maybe people do need us.”
“You and Marco?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you take a web poll?”
“I don’t want to take a poll. I’m not running for office.”
“Polls are not just a way to gain election within the Mod. Polls are an effective way to gauge what citizens want, to identify the greater good.”
“Not everyone wants the same thing.”
“You can’t speak for everyone, Emmy.”
“I don’t want to. I want to speak for those who are left out. City shouldn’t exist solely for the majority.”
“I’ll take that into consideration when I rise in the Mod.”
“In the meantime?”
“In the meantime, why you are afraid?”
“I told you. I’m afraid of losing hope. I’m so close.”
“What makes you feel close?”
“I can’t say.”
“Then how can I help? And how do you even know you’re on the cusp of some breakthrough?”
“If I wasn’t close, then why would they act threatened?”
“Threatened by you? Not Marco?”
“Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Fine. Assuming it’s true, why?”
“I can’t say for certain, but based on their actions, they seem threatened, desperate.”
“What actions? I can’t help you if you remain vague.”
“How do I avoid vagueness when they refuse transparency?”
“Transparency can be inefficient. Transparency takes up unnecessary bandwidth that could go towards making people happy via chat, video chat, emails, music and electronic books.”
“Then how can I tell you the details if there’s not enough transparency for me to know them?”
“Remember, I can read between the lines.”
“Right.”
“Don’t make fun. You promised.”
“I’m not making fun, Liz. You’ve become part of my hope.”
‘What part?”
“The part where you can read between the lines.”
“Really, Emmy?”
“Really.”
“You’re giving me that.”
“Yes, Liz, you are very good at reading between the lines.”
“Really?”
“When it comes to reading between the lines, you are exceptional, the best student in City.”
“Thank you, Emmy. Now I know what it feels like.”
“What feels like?”
“To have an outlier’s respect, the final validation.”
“Liz, I need you.”
“I know. Tell me everything that makes you think they are threatened by you.”
“Only this. They offered concessions I hadn’t requested: use of a physical item and in-person visits with a new student.”
“They offered you two unsolicited concessions?”
“Yes.”
“The Mod?”
“No, not exactly.”
“Be clear. How can you expect me to read between the lines when you're not clear?”
“Ms. Snow, the head of rehabilitation, the senior professor.”
“An agent of the Mod?”
“Does she qualify as their agent?”
“Of course she qualifies. She’s a professor who teaches the rationale.”
“But she teaches at a Private school.”
“She’s teaches as part of a highly regulated Private company charged with rehabilitating students that pose the greatest challenge to City’s future stability.”
“So she’s an agent of the Mod?”
“Unofficially, yes. Work with me, Emmy. You can’t expect me to read between the lines for you
indefinitely.”
“Shouldn’t you use your gift when you join the Mod in order to usher an age of transparency?”
“That wouldn’t be my role. As a member of the Mod, I would be charged with identifying what is best for the public good, developing the rationale to ensure the Mod advances that good, and regulating and enforcing the rationale.”
“You mean controlling the people?”
“Not controlling, persuading. Persuading the people to do what is best for the greater good.”
“What happens if they refuse?”
“Depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“For small offenses, I could direct policy to take away rewards. Or provide concessions by allowing each adult to do inefficient things a limited number of times per year.”
“Like what?”
“Like taking escorted trips.”
“In City?”
“Where else would they travel? What are you advocating, Emmy?”
“Nothing. What if someone commits a large offense?”
“Depends again. If they are young enough, I would order rehabilitation to help them internalize the rationale.”
“What if it’s too late for that?”
“If a citizen doesn’t want to be part of City, they can choose to break the social contract.”
“You mean sentence them to life as a transit?”
“They sentence themselves by refusing to be part of the City, by refusing to engage in the rationale that serves all.”
“But they are part of City. They live in City.”
“Outside doesn’t count, Emmy. We learned that a long time ago. Now ask me the tough question.”
“What tough question?”
“Your fear.”
“I told you everything.”
“You told me they offered you two unsolicited concessions.”
“That’s everything. I’m worried what they’ll do now.”
“You did take the concessions, Emmy?”
“No, I didn’t want them.”
“That’s bad.”
“Why’s it bad, Liz?”
“They are going to test you.”
“Then I’m going to test them.”