DEBT: $55,000,000
People had gathered in and around the park, just like Sera had said they would. They crowded the bridge and flooded the outer boulevard of shops. I didn’t know if they were all Silents, but no one was speaking. The scene was at once heartening and eerie. The only sound came from their shuffling, and from the distant chaos at the center of the city. I could not shake the feeling they were waiting for me, though they could not have known I was here.
I slowed the car to a stop at the edge of the crowd. From every direction, people were straggling in, drawn to this spot where I had fallen silent, where Beecher had killed himself, where Sam had been murdered.
A terrible moan escaped me. It had only been a day. I looked away from the bridge, swallowing hard, and stepped out of the car.
My presence drew the attention of everyone who could see me. Fingers pointed and people nudged each other, but still no one spoke. A stage and podium were set up, just as they had been for me on my Last Day. For one, self-important moment, I thought it was for me, but then I realized it was Mandett Kresh’s Last Day celebration. He stood at the edge of the stage, looking at me, wide-eyed and hopeful. Was he going to go silent? Was that his plan? Around him, I saw a few familiar faces. Norflo Juarze, Itzel Gonz and Penepoli. Phlip and Vitgo were hanging near the back of the crowd.
I could not help but think of who wasn’t here. Beecher and Sam. My parents. Mrs. Stokes. Nancee. Would the freedom of the untethered WiFi help her? Would it help any of us?
In the distance, another enormous crack resounded. The dome shuddered with the sound. Two enormous hexagonal tiles came loose near the city’s center. The Aeroluminum® panels fell like snowflakes and floated down between the buildings.
A surge of weakness pounded through me, wondering if I had doomed us all. And, if I hadn’t, what now? What came next?
Police hovered around the edges of the gathering multitude, tentative and uncomfortable in their riot gear. During such a catastrophic event, it was their mandate to keep not just the peace, but also the silence.
“Under criminal code 7129, you are prohibited from all forms of Copyrighted and Trademarked communication, including speech, while WiFi and tether services are unavailable,” a pleasant, recorded female voice reminded the crowd. The police played this recording at seemingly random intervals around the edges. Ironically, the Silents and I were, by virtue of our silence, the most Law-abiding citizens in the city.
The morning sun blazed down in two shafts from hexagonal holes in the dome, shining down somewhere into the Troisième. I wondered how dangerous that sunlight was.
I pushed forward, not knowing what else to do. Rog would not take long to circle the ring and find us. Kel, Margot and Henri, with my sister on his back, followed me into the crowd. We could never escape now. Something else had to be done.
My bag was still on my shoulder, damp from the sweat of my escape. Penepoli’s eyes went wide as I drew closer. She nodded and clutched her chest, like I was some kind of celebrity.
I caught a flash of Arkansas Holt in his chartreuse suit. He stood beside a pair of police officers, pointing toward me. I recognized one of them—Shalk. Our eyes met, and he stood his ground, holding back the other officers with a light touch. Behind their backs, Holt gave me a double thumbs-up, zippered his lips and vanished into the crowd.
All around, Affluents were fleeing. They ducked their heads out of the surrounding shops and then, suddenly, one of them would run for it, as best as they were able. Where were they going? What were they afraid we would do?
Just then, Rog’s Ebony Meiboch™ Triumph IV roared up over the bridge, and the crowd moved back, like a herd. His car could pass no farther than the bridge’s apex, near the split in the mesh that turned my stomach. There were too many people.
The Triumph™’s doors opened, and Rog’s voice cut through the quiet.
“Cease and desist!” he bellowed. “Cease and desist!”
I could not see him. The crowd was too thick around me and seemed to close in.
“Keep moving,” Kel whispered, but I stopped.
I motioned for her and the others to move farther on; I would catch up. With the WiFi down, Rog’s face would be unpixelated. I wanted to see it—I wanted to know who this man was. I felt bolstered by the presence of all these allies. What was Rog going to do? Would he dare shoot me in front of everyone, even the police?
I wasn’t afraid to die. And I didn’t want to live in a world where he could get away with such a thing.
The crowd parted before me, giving me space. I let Rog come. The gold brother emerged beside him, and the two of them came hulking toward me, taking one furious stride after another.
“By every legal authority known and herefore ever imagined,” Rog growled, frothing at the mouth, “I hereby swear that you will suffer to the fullest and harshest extent of the Law, exceeding every imaginable dire consequence for your heinous acts against economic growth and Intellectual Property.”
His face was, as I’d expected, unpixelated, though it was so distorted by his fury that, for a moment, I couldn’t really see what he looked like. Veins popped from his forehead. Flecks of spit rimmed his mouth. I was shaken by a desire to flee rather than attack.
His words may have been litigious fearmongering, but they seemed to cut to my very bones. I still feared him. I still feared how he wielded Legalese like a weapon to frighten me. I still feared all that he could do. I stepped back despite myself, and I hated that weakness.
Then he stopped screaming, and I could see him at last. My fear had delighted him. He was white, though his face was mottled pink from his settling rage. He looked to be about fifty or so, with salt-and-pepper hair trimmed to perfection, like the male lead in any Carol Amanda Harving film. He was handsome—surprisingly so, despite his anger and his unfocused, shark-like eyes.
Rog raised his Cuff at me, the gun muzzle pointed straight at my heart. The gold brother grudgingly gave way to allow Rog to kill me. Rog’s hands clenched and released, like he was imagining the pleasure of killing me with his hands, not his gun. I gritted my teeth against my instinctive fear and hoped my face showed him the same kind of hate in return.
But Rog’s anger had melted away into a murderous gleam. His eyes crinkled with joy, and his face turned pleasant, almost charming.
“They will see that you are nothing more than flesh, blood and bone,” Rog explained. Phlip nudged Vitgo, as if he thought this would be good. I forced myself to reclaim the ground I’d lost to fear, because now I knew: Rog was afraid of me. He wanted to show everyone I was merely human, but only because he knew in his heart that I was more. I had become a symbol, and that terrified him.
I took a step toward Rog, my heart thumping hard in my chest. If I had to die, I wanted witnesses. I wanted everyone to see I was silence. I was hope. I was the insurrection. He could not end this revolution by killing me, though I hoped I did not have to die for it.
I tried to look brave as Rog clenched his hand with cruel pleasure, pulling the trigger. But there was no sound, no flash and no impact. Phlip’s eyes went wide, and Vitgo looked away.
Rog fired again. The Cuff failed him; it would not follow his command without the tether. It obeyed the rules he had made. Rog’s eyes bulged with confusion and despair, and his failure was a joy to behold.
My face broke into a wide smile. I don’t know if it was as beautiful as Saretha’s, but it felt good.
I took another step closer to Rog.
Shalk pushed his way out of the mass of people. Three officers trailed behind.
Rog shook his Cuff, trying to get it to work. When it failed, he shouted, “Arrest her. I will prosecute her myself!”
The officers moved in around me. Shalk drew his plastic restraints and turned to Rog, as if looking for further instruction.
“Now!” Rog commanded, like Shalk was his servant. “Her crimes are multitudinous. I want—”
Shalk pressed a button on his modified Cuff.
“Under criminal code 7129-A, you are prohibited from all forms of Copyrighted and Trademarked communication, including speech, while WiFi and tether services are unavailable.”
“I wrote code 7129-A!” Rog screeched.
Shalk frowned and put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth. He zipped in a hard, quick gesture. Rog stared at him, momentarily stunned. Shalk forced him to turn and bound Rog’s hands behind his back.
“Have you lost your mind?” Rog screamed. “She murdered Leeland Butchers!”
Had we?
Shalk played the recording again.
“Under criminal code 7129...”
“Kill her!” Rog thundered at the gold brother nearby.
The gold brother broke forward like a bull. Phlip took a step, but Vitgo held him back. The crowd stirred. I coiled, ready to hit him in the throat or eyes to slow him, but before I could strike, a blur crossed my vision. It was Henri. He slammed into the gold brother’s beefy side and knocked him off course, into the crowd of Silents. Margot rushed in behind. The gold brother shook them off and tried to stand, but hands shot out from the crowd. Bodies overwhelmed him. Two more officers moved in and brought him down.
I turned back to see Kel and Saretha only a yard behind me. Henri and Margot stood near Rog, dusting themselves off, and Mandett was making his way toward us.
“Do you have any idea what will happen to you once I am free?” Rog hissed.
Shalk tapped again on his Cuff. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can, and will, be charged against your account, with a 20 percent surcharge to cover processing fees. Anything this officer or any other Law enforcement official says in the course of the investigation will be charged to you, and billed at such time as your case is adjudicated. You have the right to an Attorney. If you cannot afford an Attorney, one will be assigned to seize your assets, and you will be turned over to Debt Collection. Do you understand these rights?”
“When the WiFi returns, you will regret this,” Rog warned. “Everything will be rebuilt. It will all be reprinted, and I will destroy you! I will snake this city with so much cable and wire that it will strangle every one of you sluks!” he screeched wildly, whirling around at the crowd. His voice bounced across the plastic melt of the faux French buildings and vanished.
Shalk began to pull him away, but I raised a hand. I wanted Rog to be here for what came next.
“That’s speech!” He laughed with wild eyes. “You cannot trust her! She will destroy our city, and with it, all of you!”
I looked from Mandett and Henri to Silas Rog’s smirking, sneering face. Margot tore a strip of fabric out of the supplies in her bag. She, Mandett and Henri gagged the struggling Rog while Shalk looked on, as if all of this was normal.
Everything stopped then. The screens around the park glowed faintly, still powered, but blank. The noise and wind of the cars on the ring had ceased. A breeze of a different sort wafted across the park—cold air from the outside that smelled crisp and sweet and salty.
I pushed through the crowd and mounted the stage. My body ached from all I had been through. Kel, Margot, Henri and Saretha all watched, wide-eyed. My eyes searched for Sam in the crowd, though I knew I would not find him. Speaking now would not betray him, though I felt his absence acutely. He would have relished what was to come.
I put a shaking thumb and finger to the corner of my mouth, and drew it slowly across my lips. I made the sign of the zippered lips, only this time I was unzipping them. I cleared my throat, letting sound escape, and the feeling was exquisite.
It was time for my speech.