Consensus: Part 1 - Citizen Read online

see her and she said it was a coping mechanism. Something you did to control your environment when you felt unsafe.”

  “Yeah?” Rena repeated.

  Clarine locked eyes with Marshall for a moment before continuing. “I know you were just defending yourself and your friends, but you really hurt those men today. The one you stabbed could even be dead by now, for all we know.”

  “Mom!”

  Clarine squeezed Rena’s hand. “You said you didn’t even realize what you were doing. You just reacted. Rena, there are going to be plenty of times in your life when you feel scared. What’s going to come out of you next time? What happens if you do something that can’t be fixed?”

  “Mom, they were going to hurt Kirti and Dal.”

  “I’m going to ‘verse Dr. Mallory,” Clarine said, ignoring Rena’s comment. “We need to get control of this … for your sake.”

  “I think that’s a good idea,” Marshall added.

  Rena wanted to object. She wanted to say counseling wasn’t necessary. But she’d never stabbed anyone before. Never broken someone’s leg or slashed their wrist. She’d never had the police come into her house. Today was an unusual day. Perhaps it required an unusual response.

  “Let’s sit down and have some dinner,” Clarine said quietly.

  “I’m not hungry. I think I’ll just go to my room and lay down.”

  “OK,” Clarine said, letting go of Rena’s hand.

  “Maybe spend some time thinking about how you want your life to turn out,” Marshall said.

  Rena nodded but didn’t reply as she walked down the hallway.

  003

  Lukas stepped through the open door and rapped his knuckles on the cold, polished surface. “You wanted to see me, sir?”

  Director Terrell looked up from his seated position behind a large metal desk. His silver hair and gray eyes echoed the rigid feeling of the office. “Yes. Close the door and have a seat.”

  Lukas did as he was told, settling himself into one of two uncomfortable chairs facing the desk. If he had been any one of the other thousands of operatives who worked for Outlier Control, he might have been nervous. But he had a special relationship with the director. Terrell appreciated intelligence and talent above all else, and Lukas had an abundance of both.

  “I wanted to show you something,” Terrell said, waving his hand toward one of the two-dimensional screens on the wall of his spacious office. It flickered to life and began playing what appeared to be footage from an old security camera. “Tell me what you see.”

  Lukas sat up straighter in his chair. This was obviously another of the director’s tests of which he was so fond. “It’s from the Barrens,” Lukas began, noting a slight gradient in the color of the foggy sky at the center of the footage, telling him which direction the sun was shining. “East. Segment Three.”

  “What else?”

  Lukas ignored the four people in the footage for the moment and concentrated his attention on the less-obvious details. It was a discipline instilled in all operatives from their earliest moments of service, and one the director was sure to appreciate. “From the elevated position, I’d say this is from a rooftop camera. Time of day is … about seventeen hundred.”

  “Eighteen zero nine this evening, to be precise,” the director said. “I had the footage run through image processing to filter out the fog, so it appears to be earlier than it is. Keep going.”

  Now Lukas let himself take in the details of the people in the footage. “Three males. Age could be anywhere between mid-twenties to late-forties. The glow around their hands suggests they’re in the system, but lowrates, judging by the dirtiness and thickness of their clothing. Outskirt thieves.”

  “What about the other?”

  Lukas leaned forward in his chair. “Female. Fourteen to eighteen. Well rated. Wrong place at the wrong time. She’s about to get her credits stolen.”

  “Good,” Terrell said with a smile. “Now keep watching. When it’s finished, I want you to tell me why this is important.”

  As the footage progressed, Lukas watched the thieves in the foreground swipe the girl’s credits with a portable scanner. In the background, two people came running. One dropped to the ground a few seconds before the next. They were too far away for the thieves to notice, but the image processing allowed Lukas to see them clearly enough. He could already tell by their movements that one was female, the other male. Both were young. The female got up and started jogging toward the group.

  “Do we have audio?”

  “No,” Terrell answered.

  Lukas wished he could hear what the newcomer was saying, but he could tell by the men’s body language that they didn’t consider her a threat. There was some back and forth, but the second girl was doing most of the talking. Then she walked right past one of the thieves and embraced the first girl, indicating they were friends. “Interesting technique.”

  The director nodded, but kept silent.

  The two girls were making their way toward the city when one of the thieves finally realized what was happening and jogged over to them. When he took hold of one of the girl’s wrists, the young male got up and ran toward the conflict. As soon as his presence was known, the body language of the men shifted into combative mode. One pulled out what looked like a knife. Lukas was watching his movements so closely he almost missed the preemptive attack, not expecting it to come from one of the girls. He suddenly got up from his chair and moved closer to the screen, watching it unfold with disbelief. When the three youths ran away, the assailants were still on the ground. Then the screen went dark.

  Lukas turned to his director, surprised by the abrupt end to the footage.

  “Tell me what you saw,” Terrell said.

  Lukas walked back to his chair and sat down. “There were maybe two or three possible ways of coming out of that situation alive. And hundreds of ways to end up dead.”

  “Those are unlikely odds.”

  “She’s had training, then.”

  Terrell smiled. “I knew I picked the right man for this operation.”

  Lukas didn’t bother trying to hide his surprise. “Wow! Thank you, sir.”

  The director rose from his chair. Another wave of his hand brought the screen to life again, showing video clips of the same girl running through the Outskirts. Climbing over fences. Throwing rocks.

  “Her name is Rena Waite, adopted daughter of Marshall and Clarine Waite. They’re a lower-middlerate family living in Segment Three. They have two other adopted children. Gareth, five. Suzanne is two. Nothing particularly interesting about them. The parents are both productive citizens. Marshall works as an efficiency consultant, and Clarine is a part-time logistics supervisor at their local food distribution center.”

  “Why do we have this footage of the daughter?”

  Director Terrell leaned against his desk, crossing his arms. “Rena showed up on OCON’s watch list just over nine years ago. A few of our operatives had tracked down a high-level Outlier living inside the city. When we took him into custody, the girl was there, hiding in a dumpster. We’re not sure how much she witnessed. The operatives scanned her implant and checked her history. It turned out she ran away from a nearby orphanage several months prior. The operatives ‘versed law enforcement and left the scene.”

  “Was there a connection between her and the Outlier?”

  “We don’t know. They were fleeing together, but she might have been his hostage. He died shortly afterward from injuries sustained during his apprehension. We weren’t able to question him. But Rena was added to our watch list per standard procedure.”

  “So what is all this?” Lukas asked, pointing at the screen.

  “You tell me.”

  Lukas watched the footage closer this time. It ran on a loop. Rena could be seen running in the Barrens. Scaling various buildings and mechanical equipment in the Outskirts. What Lukas had thought was just her throwing rocks, he now realized was something more menacing. She was practicing her aim,
breaking out the windows of an abandoned building. “It looks like she’s preparing for something. Or maintaining skills she learned previously.”

  “Precisely.”

  Lukas squinted. “You think the Outliers planted her here?”

  Terrell pushed himself away from his desk and walked back to his chair. “If so, it would certainly affect the scope of our operations. Are they using children exclusively? Or do they already have adults in position? We’re assigning you to Rena. We want to know where she goes, what she does, and who she talks to. Most importantly, how she thinks. If this turns out to be a new strategy of the Outliers, we need to understand it.”

  “I’m flattered you chose me,” Lukas said, “but why?”

  “Many reasons. You’re the same age as Rena. You’ll be able to shadow her better than an adult, without drawing suspicions. And Rena’s an orphan. Considering your parents were murdered by Outlier radicals, I thought this operation might hold a special significance for you. If Rena turns out to be what I think she is, then you are in many ways the same person on opposite sides of this war. And quite frankly, you’re more intelligent than others several years your senior. I didn’t think any of our other young operatives were even remotely as capable as you.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  The director simply nodded. “The full work-up on Rena’s family and friends is being sent to you as we speak. Your assignment begins first thing in the morning, so you have a lot of reading to do.”

  “Who needs sleep, sir?”

  “Dismissed,” Terrell replied, smiling just a little at Lukas’s comment.

  o o o

  Rain had begun falling on the Barrens. The fog was washed away, replaced by a different kind of visual obstruction. The cold, wet environment motivated the officers to speed up their investigation of the crime scene. None of the citizens were equipped to withstand the Barrens for very long. Not even the police.

  Ten minutes after the officers had left the area, John Barrett gave the order for his recon team to pull back. They were well out of range of the nearest city camera, and the falling rain provided plenty of concealment. Even though the robbery had surely caught the attention of OCON, their operatives didn’t have the technology to see far through the fog and rain. Only the Outliers had that. Even if operatives were watching through the city cameras, movement was a low risk.

  Still, each team member followed protocol, inching along the ground as though their positions had already been identified. Only the most trained eyes would have suspected anything. To everyone else, the recon team would have looked like a few more clumps of weeds visible one moment and gone the next. A half hour later, Barrett’s team was back at their rally point several hundred meters farther out than where they had been positioned during the robbery. Without the need for secrecy, they climbed to their feet and huddled close to each other. The rain pelted their long, drab clothing, running off in sheets. The wind had also picked up, threatening to rip off the attached foliage that served as their camouflage.

  “How many of you saw that?” Barrett asked his team, flipping up the goggles that allowed him to see through the fog.

  They all nodded.

  “She took out those men in under ten seconds,” said one of his soldiers.

  “With her bare hands,” another said.

  “Well … she used a knife for the last two.”

  “Yeah, but she had to take it from the guy first. And all of them outweighed her by twenty kilos, at least.”

  Barrett smiled as he tucked his long-range rifle under his cloak. It was clear his team members were impressed. And their opinions matched his. What the girl had done was extraordinary. She’d been under Outlier surveillance for quite some time now, given her affinity for the Barrens. But this was something else entirely.

  “You know they’ll blame the robbery on us,” said one of his soldiers.

  “That’s right,” Barrett agreed. “The citizens will keep getting a steady diet of propaganda until there’s enough public support to come looking for us.”

  “At some point, OCON won’t even need to hide from citizens,” another soldier chimed in.

  “Not much we can do about that,” said another.

  “Except follow our orders,” Barrett concluded. “Let’s get back to the commander and let him know what we saw. I expect he’ll put this girl at the top of our potentials list.”

  “Yes, sir,” said the recon members as they pulled their goggles down over their eyes again.

  “Move out,” Barrett ordered, leading his men across the wet and frigid terrain.

  004

  Sleep didn’t come easily for Rena. She kept remembering the terror in Kirti’s eyes. Dal looking so wild as he came out of the fog. The knife, and how it made everyone vulnerable the second it came out. Then it was in Rena’s hands, and there was blood everywhere.

  By the time morning arrived, she was exhausted. A hot shower was almost soothing enough to wash yesterday’s events from her mind. But as she stood at the bathroom sink, brushing her teeth, she noticed the back of her hand in the mirror.

  011.

  She’d dropped two points. It wasn’t that she’d gone to the Barrens, or what she’d done to those men. None of that was illegal. What lowered her number was the police report. The vote of an officer carried a lot of weight. More than other citizens.

  As Rena stared at her rating, she didn’t feel cheated. The subjective nature of the report wasn’t what bothered her. It was that her number now seemed so small.

  Eleven!

  Only 11% of the population was at her rating or below. That meant 89% of all the people in Esh were more productive and useful than her. More valuable to society. Only nine points of difference between her and those criminals who stole Kirti’s credits. Was she going to end up like one of them? Stealing from other citizens because she was too lazy or stupid to contribute?

  Rena rinsed her mouth before standing up straight. Then she glared at herself in the mirror, as if her reflection were someone else. Another citizen she was evaluating. She inspected her dark brown hair, falling in wet strands around her face. Some as long as her chin. Her light, olive skin.

  Are you stupid? she wondered.

  The eyes squinted in response. Green irises, flecked with blue. There was intelligence behind them.

  Are you lazy?

  The outline of her muscular shoulders against the white bathroom wall said otherwise.

  Are you a criminal?

  “No,” replied the person in the mirror. But words didn’t prove anything.

  Will you contribute?

  “Yes.”

  Rena studied her mouth. Lips that turned up at one end. She wasn’t sure if this one could be trusted.

  o

  When Rena was done getting ready for school, she headed into the kitchen. Clarine had made oatmeal. Suzanne was in her high chair with a spoon. Most of her breakfast was ending up on her face instead of inside her mouth. Clarine took the spoon and scraped off some of the excess before looking back over her shoulder. “Good morning.”

  “Morning.”

  “Can I get you a bowl?”

  “No thanks. I got it,” Rena said, walking over to the stove. When she’d filled her bowl and topped it with diced fruit and nuts, she went to the table and sat down next to Gareth.

  “Hey, cutie.”

  Gareth smiled, revealing several cubes of apple he had arranged in a row between his lips. “Morning,” he tried to say.

  “Wow, Gareth. Your teeth are unusually large today. Mom might need to take you to the dentist.”

  He smiled even wider and one of the apple cubes popped out of his mouth and bounced across the table.

  Clarine was just handing the spoon back to Suzanne again when she noticed it. “Gareth! One at a time. I don’t want you choking.”

  “I’ll cut them smaller,” Rena said. When she got up to grab a knife out of the drawer, she could hear Marshall’s muffled voice from the next ro
om.

  “Look, Chris. How long have we been doing business together?”

  There was a reply, but it was too faint for Rena to hear. It sounded like her dad was ‘versing with a client.

  “I understand the policy,” Marshall said. “And I’m not questioning the wisdom of it. But you know me. This is just temporary.”

  Marshall worked with all sorts of companies, helping them run more efficiently. Sometimes he worked from his home office when he didn’t need to be on-site.

  “I’ll make it back in a few days at the most,” he said.

  This time, Rena could hear the reply because Chris’s voice got a bit louder. “Then ‘verse me when you do!”

  “What happens in the meantime? Are you bringing in someone else?”

  “Come on, Marshall. You know I can’t hold your slot indefinitely. If a need comes up … yeah, I’ll have to bring in someone. And if they impress Jack, he’ll probably want to keep them around. What you can do is get your number back up as quickly as possible so that doesn’t happen. I wish I could do something about it, but my hands are tied.”

  Rena turned away from the counter. She suddenly felt guilty for eavesdropping. “Alright, Gareth. About those teeth,” she said, walking to the table and grabbing his plate of assorted toppings.

  A few seconds later, Clarine glanced up from the table. “What’s wrong?”

  Rena followed her gaze to the other side of the kitchen where Marshall was now standing.

  “I just lost a client,” he said. His voice sounded tired.

  “Who?” Clarine asked.

  “Chris, in public transit.”

  “But you’ve been helping them for years.”

  “Yep,” he said, pouring himself a cup of coffee and leaning against the counter. Clarine got up from the table and walked over to him, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. He slowly took a sip before shaking his head. “They don’t do business with anyone under forty.”

  Rena’s eyes went immediately to Marshall’s hand. It read 039. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen him in the thirties.

  Clarine looked down at the kitchen floor as if the explanation had fallen there.

  “I paid for the groceries yesterday,” Marshall said. “And then …”

  Rena’s parents both stared at her. That’s when Rena noticed her mom’s rating had dropped to 033. Each of them had lost two points. She turned to look at Suzanne’s and Gareth’s hands. They had each lost one.

  Rena set down the knife and buried her face in her hands. Her mistake had dragged everyone down because they were linked to her with a family association in the system. Marshall and Clarine had lost as much as Rena because they were responsible for her decisions until she turned eighteen. Gareth and Suzanne were punished to a lesser degree, but still punished because siblings influenced one another’s behavior.

  “That little stunt of yours … bad timing,” Marshall said.

  “I’m sorry,” Rena replied. She didn’t know what else to say.

  A few awkward seconds passed before Marshall added, “I suppose I could submit a negative rating of our interaction with the officers.”

  “Don’t do that,” Clarine said. “They could amend their report and make it worse