The white concrete walls pressed in upon Seven. He struggled to stand but ascent was impossible from the heavy steel chair in the center of the cell. He was tied down with nylon rope, and the chair was bolted to the cement floor. The prisoner allowed himself a moment to cry out for help, but quickly corrected the emotion with a deep breath and a shiver.

He searched his foggy mind for answers. When exactly had he been captured? He remembered giving the Guard the slip and running with Talia back to her brother’s place. He’d gone almost immediately to sleep on the sofa. The next thing he recalled was a needle and syringe glinting in the morning light. He remembered a struggle and a quick fade to black.

Seven scanned his surroundings for weak points and possible areas of escape. The wall directly across from him was empty except for a poster featuring one of the Guard’s most famous slogans. The last three words were struck out by lime spray paint, so that it read: PATRIOTS ARE THE TRUE. HERETICS ARE THE DAMNED. Stenciled beneath the words was a black visage with fiery red eyes.

He turned to a solid black door on the left. Hanging above it, a mechanical eye watched without blinking. Next, he traced two dim yellow rectangles on the floor up the wall on his right to a pair of single-pane windows. Dirt, grass, and weeds pressed up against the glass. The cell seemed to darken as he looked into the sunlight.

Seven smiled. The irony of an organization calling itself the Underground locking him in a basement had not been lost on him. Suddenly, Seven was ludicrous with laughter.

A sharply rational fear that he might be going insane shut him up. He couldn’t stop his right leg from shaking.

A low rustle shifted his attention to the left. The door to the cell popped open, and a lanky young man pranced inside with the bounce of a court jester. The newcomer’s pale fingers combed through short and slick blond hair and dropped cold onto the prisoner’s shoulders. “Welcome, Seven,” the man said with a roguish smile. “Do you know who I am?”

The prisoner blinked a few times. This was getting weird.

“I’ll take your silence as a no. I guess it’s true then, what my people tell me about you.”

If his hands were free, Seven might have tried to cover his amusement.

“Something funny?” his captor asked curiously.

“You’re old enough to have ‘people?’”

The corners of the other man’s mouth upturned so slowly that it unsettled Seven’s own smile. “It’s recent,” the stranger explained. “You see, I’ve just become chairman of DAY Corporation. The name is Daniel Alexander Young, Jr., but please, call me Danny.”

Seven remembered the name from the radio. Danny looked about his age, but was far more fashionable. He wore a tailored, chocolate suit with matching leather boots; he was a veritable urban cowboy.

“I heard your statement about severing DAY’s ties with the Underground,” Seven said. “I’m going to guess that wasn’t completely accurate?”

Young smiled. “To be perfectly honest, I didn’t even write that statement. But, you know, that’s the game we have to play.”

“And where do I fit into your game?”

“Straight to the point–very good!” Danny grinned. His teeth were even whiter than his skin. “We got your email. That was one hell of an attachment, I must say. We’re still working on the transcript.”

It was hell getting that memory stick, thought Seven, recalling the horrible exchange with Eve, the narrow escape from the crumbling Capitol Tower, and the long run to the Underground hideout. Annoyed to hear it wasn’t more of a priority, he seethed, “I was hoping you’d be able to use the information against the Guard.”

Danny’s expression turned severe. “You are some kind of enigma, aren’t you? What, do…do you think you can just switch sides at will? Providing the cause with new ammunition doesn’t change the fact that you crippled it first!”

The prisoner felt his blood boil as he realized his fears were coming true. The Underground had heard enough of Seven’s recordings to piece together that it was he who had exposed the senior Daniel Alexander Young as the leader of the Underground. He had known this would happen–expected it–from the minute he clicked send, but he had held out hope that he would find a place to hide and escape any attempts at retribution.

“You want revenge,” said Seven with only the faintest crack in his voice. “I get that, but I swear to you that I didn’t know what was going on–what the Guard had done to me. I’m–I’m sorry about what happened.”

Young’s pole-like arms stabbed into the seat of the chair around Seven’s legs. He screamed. “You’re sorry? You’re sorry?”

Their eyes linked.

Unexpectedly, Danny laughed and fell whimsically back onto his heels. Seven wasn’t sure whether to feel angry or relieved.

The leader of the Underground kicked at a dust bunny and chuckled. “Fortunately for you, I see the bigger picture. Don’t get me wrong–I certainly was mad about what happened, but time and meditation have convinced me to direct my anger more constructively. Let’s be honest: killing you would accomplish nothing for the cause. I mean, you were just the Guard’s weapon, really. A white knight wouldn’t focus his energy breaking the black night’s broad sword, would he?”

Seven wasn’t quite sure what his captor meant by this, but nodded encouragingly since it seemed to support keeping him alive.

“Truth is, Seven, I need your help. The reason for all the dramatics–tying you to a chair and all that–is just that I wanted to make you squirm a teensy-weensy bit. Consider that my revenge…for now.”

The prisoner froze.

“Joking!” Danny laughed. “Loosen up, will you?”

Seven breathed. “Kind of tough when I’m tied to a chair.”

“Never mind that–hey, that was kind of a pun you just made, wasn’t it? I like that! Seven’s coming alive, everyone!” Danny’s head moved up and down giddily as he laughed. “Seriously, though, I’ll cut you free as soon as I decide you can be trusted. You were an Elite Guard, after all. Can’t be too careful you know. Why don’t we just chat a little bit more, and when I’m feeling a little more comfortable, we’ll let you loose, okay?”

Seven kept quiet.

“Now,” said Young, pacing toward the windows and back. “Tell me what it was like when you woke up with no memory a few weeks back.”

“Um, well–”

“I mean, philosophically I just think it’s so interesting! All of the propaganda fed to us by the Guard our whole lives–forgotten! Overnight! I mean, you became tabula rasa!”

“Yeah, it was–”

“–amazing I bet. You don’t know what I’d do not to have a past. My life would be far easier, let me tell you.”

Seven raised his eyebrows. “Easy is not the word I’d use.”

Young ignored the remark and continued. “And how do you see our country now? Our way–the Underground way! You see this corrupt, broken government exploiting man’s natural fear of God to keep everyone in check. You see everything my father taught, but without his teaching! Let me tell you that he would have loved to have met you. I know that might sound a bit ironic considering you indirectly killed the man–but it’s the honest truth!”

Seven felt his blood pressure rising. “Look, all I’ve done since waking up this way is destroy lives. If you’re trying to tell me all this is some kind of blessing–”

“Oh but don’t you see? It absolutely is a blessing! You have the power to see things the way they are!”

“I’m not sure I–”

“The Cave!” interrupted Danny, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.

“Oh,” Seven said. “Wait…what?”

“You’re not familiar with the story? No, I suppose you couldn’t be, even if you once did.”

“What does this have to do with–”

“I apologize. Lend me a few minutes and I shall orate from the beginning. I’m not talking geology with you. The Cave is a famous philosophical allegory. Hopefully I’ll be able to explain.”

Seven got the feeling he didn’t have a choice. Young’s enthusiasm was exhausting.

Young began his retelling. “The Cave imagines a group of prisoners, chained inside a cave so that they can only see the wall. There’s this…bonfire behind them–but they’re unable to turn their heads to see it. And for their entire lives, their captors parade statues of various everyday objects–pots, fruit, animals–in front of the unseen fire, casting shadows on the wall. Because the prisoners are chained, they see only these shadows, and they believe them to be the true, natural form of the objects. Suddenly, their entire society revolves around this illusion. And in fact, they honor and elevate the prisoners who are most adept at reading the shadows and construing meaning from them.”

Young’s pointer finger sprung up into the air. “The exact same thing,” he grinned, “happens in our nation. The people here see only the shades of reality cast by the Church and the Guard. To the average citizen, the priests teach the good, and the president is infallible. What’s more, we place upon the pedestal those of us who most embrace the distortions. We call them Patriots.”

Seven began to understand. “And the people who don’t are called Heretics.”

“Hey, look at that, you’re getting it! This is great!”

Seven tried to force a smile but failed miserably.

Danny continued undeterred. “So anyway, the next chapter begins with an experiment: What happens when you release one of the prisoners from his chains? The freed man turns around and sees for the first time that all those shapes are just shadows. He sees the fire and the true form of the objects.

“This is where you come in, Seven. Let me ask you, how did you feel when you first took in our nation and realized you didn’t recognize it?”

“How would you feel?”

“Just humor me.”

Seven exhaled miserably. “Disoriented, I guess.”

Danny grinned. “So was the prisoner. Here he was all used to living in a dark cave, and now there’s this big bonfire stinging his eyes. I bet part of you wanted to go back to what you knew before, right?”

Seven considered. “I couldn’t go back.”

“Neither could the prisoner. Instead, he followed the path out of the cave. When he experienced the sun for the first time, it was even more severe to his eyes than the fire. But soon he became accustomed to the light.”

Young paced toward the Guard poster opposite Seven, apparently to gather his thoughts. “Now that you know the truth about this nation, how does it make you feel when you meet people who blindly follow the Guard and the Church?”

Seven frowned at the floor. “I mean, I guess you just said it. I think they’re blind.”

“So did the man who escaped the Cave,” he said. “Well get over it! Try to assimilate!”

A short laugh shot from the prisoner’s lips. “It’s not that easy.”

“Of course not–it’s too late, isn’t it? When he tried to go back, he realized he could no longer play their game of shadows. For you it’s the same. You don’t understand how people can buy into the lies told by the Guard and the Church. And you must disdain so called Patriots, for they embrace the lies without question.”

Seven gazed blankly at the white-tiled floor. “So what did the prisoner do?”

“The same thing as anyone who learns great truths. He tried to free the others so they could see the light, too.”

“Did it work?”

“No. They insisted that the prisoner’s eyes had been corrupted. When he wouldn’t give up, the others decided there was only one solution.”

Seven looked up at Young’s index finger pointing high in the air.

“Kill the Heretic.”

The prisoner frowned. “So you’re saying it’s hopeless.”

“Not quite,” Young returned. “You see, there’s one important difference between the Cave and this world, Seven. You have allies.”

Danny leaned against the fiery symbol of the Underground on the wall across from the prisoner and beamed. Seven exhaled, “What do you want?”

“It’s just as I said before, Seven. You’re a blank slate–well, blank enough anyway. That means your opinions are pure and not tainted by the Guard’s propaganda. That’s valuable to me.”

“How?”

“I want you to be my adviser.”