10/12/2019
As promised/threatened. Elephant Ears-Chapter 28.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
If we wish to make a new world, we have the material ready. The first one, too, was made out of chaos.
—Robert Quillen
Just before the lift closed, a hand appeared.
“Mind if I join you?” A girl about their age, wearing the same style of T-shirt and jeans and even a similar backpack jumped in beside them. Douglas and Juliana shook their heads simultaneously.
“I’m late for school again,” she told them. “You too?”
Juliana and Douglas again shook their heads. Douglas could see that Juliana wanted to say something but knew better.
“If I’m late for school again, I’m going to be expelled.” She looked Juliana in the eye, seeming to be hoping for a sympathetic response. Juliana shrugged. “Well, nice talking to you,” she said as the doors opened on the ground floor and she dashed off into the distance, leaving a lingering aroma of vanilla perfume in the lift.
The bus stop was right outside the building, just as Ms. Drummond had said.
“Hold my hand,” Douglas whispered. “It looks more natural. I’ve seen lots of couples doing this on the telescreens.” Juliana grabbed his hand a little more tightly than he had expected. “Sorry – bit nervous,” she said quietly when he looked at her in surprise.
“It’s so bright out here,” he said, pulling down the lip of his cap. Juliana instinctively did the same thing.
“And busy,” she replied. A stream of traffic of all varieties passed the bus stop. Douglas counted twelve different buses at the stop, with lots of people bustling in and out. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to the movements of the buses. Some stopped at the stop, others before the designated area, and others after it. Still other buses drove straight past, ignoring the people standing there with their arms out for them to stop. These people just seemed to shrug it off and try again.
“I thought Ms. D. said things had improved,” Juliana whispered.
“Maybe this is an improvement,” said Douglas. Juliana tightened her grip on his hand again as a noisy bus drove right by them, blowing exhaust fumes in their faces. “Try to look – and act – normal,” Douglas whispered.
“We do look normal,” she said, looking around at all the people dressed in clothes very similar to theirs. It was almost a uniform. Douglas even saw two men wearing exactly the same T-shirt as he was. “Let’s stand right here,” Juliana suggested, “so we can wave down one of the numbers Ms. D. gave us.” She looked around at the crowd of people waving at oncoming buses.
“It looks dangerous,” said Douglas immediately before they were jostled out of place. He puffed up his chest as if about to say something about this treatment.
“Don’t say anything, Douglas. It’s nothing,” Juliana whispered in his ear, trying to soothe his frayed nerves. “Move over this way and let’s try again.”
Just as they turned to face the oncoming traffic, one of the buses they were looking for swerved into sight, 107 plastered over the front window. In a moment it was there, its doors opening for them. But as they moved toward the open doors, so did a whole mass of other people, and they were buffeted between them onto a bus that appeared to be relatively empty. By the time the rest of the passengers had got on, it was full, with a lot of passengers standing. They had never seen passengers standing. Douglas and Juliana looked at each other. “This is progress?” she whispered in his ear. They felt vaguely triumphant in their adjoining seats near the back, even if they were being squeezed by obese people on either side.
“This reminds me of—”
“Don’t say it, Juliana, I know: something from the Old Days reports.”
“I’ve never seen so many fat people. Don’t they know about dietary habits?” she went on.
“Shhh,” Douglas hissed urgently. To the amazement of the two drones, the bus simply continued to fill up at every stop. Every time they thought there couldn’t possibly be any more space, somebody else would squeeze in.
“How are we going to get off this bus?” Juliana whispered.
“I don’t know. Just keeping looking out of the window on your side, we’re already on Avenida Atlantica,” Douglas replied. A light, salty breeze blowing through the open window brought some relief from the stuffy atmosphere.
“I’m a bit frightened to look out of the window,” said Juliana as she leaned across the sleeping woman in the window seat as delicately as possible,. “The traffic is so close, it seems like we’re going to hit something.”
Douglas leaned over her so he could see out of the window on her side. “Almost there, I think,” he said. He vaguely recognized the area from Old Days reports. The beach was certainly not as it had looked in the reports he’d seen, but it was still there. Craning his neck to see out of the window without waking the sleeping woman, he could just about make out crashing waves in the distance.
“It looks as though the ocean – I think it must be the Atlantic – is three or four kilometers from the road. I can see a shoreline. Fascinating,” he said. He wanted to stick his head right out of the half-open window like an eager dog on an outing, but that would have been uncomfortable for Juliana, and he was a little afraid that he might lose it in the traffic. “There’s some sand there,” he shouted excitedly.
“Douglas, keep it down,” Juliana whispered in his ear.
“Come on, Juliana, no one can really hear me above the engine as well as all these passengers and the wind coming in through the windows.”
“This is a bit uncomfortable, Douglas. I mean it, it’s really quite uncomfortable,” she pleaded.
“Incredible!” he shouted. “It’s not quite the same as it looked in the Old Days reports, but still… incredible. Have you seen this, Juliana?” It was not as ravaged as he had expected. The Old Days reports had featured before and after images, and this scene wasn’t so different from the “before” shots. It hadn’t been destroyed after all.
“You’ve already asked me that, Douglas. Now please, get off my lap. I’m being squashed on all sides here.” She glanced at the snoring figure beside her. “How could anybody actually sleep on a bus like this?” she asked in wonderment.
Douglas moved back to his position and panicked momentarily as they both registered the rainbow flag in the near distance through the front window.
“Quick, get up,” Douglas said, jumping up and beckoning Juliana. She tried to be as delicate as possible with the large sleeping figure nestling happily on her shoulder.
“Douglas,” she pleaded. Douglas lifted the woman’s great head and put it back on the seat; she didn’t wake up even when she seemed to hit it with a bump.
“Impressive,” said Douglas, taking Juliana’s hand, checking that both their bags were strapped tightly to their bodies and proceeding to push his way through the slightly swaying crowd. Luckily, a number of people were getting off at the same stop, and they were able to go with the flow. When the bus shuddered to an abrupt halt at Farme de Amoado, Douglas and Juliana were spat out of the door and onto the awaiting pavement.
“I think we’re here,” said Douglas, dusting himself off and looking flustered while Juliana did the same.
“I think you’re right. Looks like we made it,” she said, watching the bulk of the bus weave clumsily away from the bus stop. “And in one piece, just. Well, that was fun,” she added sarcastically.
“Is that what we’ve got to look forward to in our new lives?” said Douglas.
Juliana said nothing.
Salty air blew in from the plain separating them from the ocean. “It’s even more beautiful when you can see the whole thing, don’t you think, Juliana?” He swept his hand in the direction of the ocean.
“You know, you’re right. It’s breathtaking. Easier to see that when you’re not being pinched from every direction,” she replied.
“Look at that!” Douglas suddenly yelped in excitement. He’d turned away from the sea and noticed the large groups of people on the beach, which stretched out from them in all directions. Many of them were wearing almost nothing, while others seemed to be dressed up as strange beings: creatures like cats, lions and tigers, and witches and wizards and fairy princesses with feather headdresses, and superheroes they knew to be popular from Old Days reports, and even a few gruesome monsters. It was a sunny day, and the sands were crowded with multitudes of people. Douglas thought how similar the scene looked to the old, brownish pictures they had seen so many times on the telescreen. But in those pictures, the crowding had seemed frightening, the costumes menacing. In some of them, there were people clearly in need of medical care who weren’t receiving it. These people didn’t seem to want anything to change. It was a weekday, but the beach was busy with bodies; a great variety of bodies, male and female, taking advantage of the sun and the sand for a whole plethora of activities. Among them were activities the pair thought had been banned or simply fallen out of favor once the dangers of exposure to the sun had been revealed. Louis R. had warned them about these activities, and yet twenty meters from where they stood were groups of older men playing one of the old sports, beach volleyball, their sagging bodies glistening in the rising morning heat. They didn’t seem ashamed to be playing; in fact, they stretched and flexed every sinew to reach the ball and win the game. Some even had strange designs painted on their bodies, though they didn’t seem to care if these designs were smudged or smeared by oil and sweat. Other groups played other ball games, all of them showing off their bodies for all to see. Meanwhile, the majority of the beachgoers simply sat or lay on the sand, some protected by large umbrellas while others lay out, soaking up the rays.
“That’s not good for you.” Juliana pointed, clearly enjoying their vantage point overlooking the beach. “Remember what we learnt?”
“They don’t seem to care,” said Douglas, squinting into the sun. “They really don’t seem to care,” he repeated. In fact, everyone on the beach seemed to be enjoying themselves. This wasn’t the miserable existence the Channel had taught them to associate with unenlightened habits like sunbathing. Douglas and Juliana looked at each other, looked at the clothes they were wearing, and once again realized how little they knew about the people the drones so dutifully served. Parts of them wanted to run down onto the sands and warn those bare-chested players that they were risking their lives, that they could be destroyed by skin cancer. But this was the first time they’d ever been on a beach, and it was amazing. It was like the best episodes of programs on the telescreen, only brighter, more alive. It was everything they’d been taught to reject, and it tempted them like nothing else ever had.
“Let’s sit for a while,” said Juliana quietly. “Sit and just think.”
“There’s no time to sit and think, Juliana. And besides, I don’t know if I can. I don’t know if I won’t just explode if I sit down and think. Right now, we have to get this job done without speaking to anyone. And after that, who knows what on earth’s going to happen.”
“Maybe we’ll become part of that,” Juliana said, pointing to the beach. “Maybe that’s our destiny.”
“Our destiny? We used to have one of those, a destiny, a path to follow that told us exactly where to go and what we had to do to get there,” Douglas shot back. “Now all we have is Ms. Drummond’s word. Oh, let’s just get on with it, do it and see what happens.” He glanced over at the people on the beach. Nobody, not one person, glanced their way or registered any kind of surprise at their presence. Nobody accused them of being where they shouldn’t; nobody cared. Douglas grabbed Juliana’s hand and turned away from the beach, towards their destination on the other side of the road. Both of them looked at their linked hands for a moment, pleasantly surprised to find how natural the contact between them had become. While they stood teetering by the roadside, gathering the courage to cross, they both faintly registered voices and laughter growing closer. Suddenly, they were both grabbed by the hands and swallowed up into a group. They crossed the busy street in a group of rambunctious young women, some of them wearing the skimpiest of bikinis and high-heels, some dressed like sc****ly clad nurses and maids, each holding a can or bottle in their hands as they forged their path through the traffic.
“Follow us,” they shouted slurrily.
“We’re on our way to another party,” one of the girls whispered in Douglas’s ear, playfully tipping his cap. It gave him a buzz, being swept up in this haze of excitement. Even crossing the road was more exciting than taking the train to the Old City every morning. There had never been anything unexpected about their train rides to the Old City; there was never anything to fear. Now, though, even though they knew what they had to do, they couldn’t help feeling that anything could happen along the way. When the group splintered at the other side of the road, Juliana and Douglas went on their way, disentangling themselves from the bouncing, costumed revelers but casting them a few glances as the girls picked up more stragglers, to be precise five young men dressed as sailors, who threw themselves headlong into their new adventure. Douglas and Juliana headed straight to the building’s front entrance, as instructed. Once they’d reached it, they looked up. It was nowhere near as large as the Machado de Assis building – nothing in this area seemed to be on that scale – but it rose nine or ten floors above the ground and had a certain faded splendor, like much of what they’d seen in the Old City. One side of the building was more windswept than the other, but the whole façade had been harshly eroded by the sea air. Scattered trees and plants, mostly well kept, adorned the small front court. Above the front door was a small sign that read Oscar Niemeyer House. They were definitely in the right place.
The contrast between the courtyard and the street they had left behind was startling; there was no one around. Doing exactly as they were instructed, they were buzzed in by a silent presence at the other end. They headed toward the strangely archaic lift, which was even more antiquated than that in the Machado de Assis building. Douglas struggled to push open the concertina doors before they squeezed themselves in. A sign inside the lift informed them that the maximum number of people it could carry was four.
“Only four people,” said Douglas, raising his eyebrows at Juliana.
“I know,” said Juliana. “How does anybody ever get anything done?”
“Beats me,” said Douglas, wincing as the contraption shuddered to a halt. But when they stepped out into the dim corridor, glad to have survived the antiquated technology, they heard shouts and laughter rising up through the hallway’s tiny open windows from the beach and suddenly felt ever so slightly less smug. Still, the narrow hallway they had stepped into was full of dark, ornately framed posters of paintings clearly from a distant age. There were overhead lights at regular intervals, but not all of them were working, and those that were gave off only a dim glow. A state of constant disrepair, Douglas remembered the words used by both Roberto and Ms. Drummond. As they moved, they left behind all natural light, and it was replaced only by a meager amount of artificial guidance. The paintings on the walls, Douglas now realized, were religious, dating back to the days when religion had hung over everyone’s lives and filled them with fear of an unknown fate. Now, faded by time, they had an eerie quality: only parts of bodies and heads were visible in the corridor’s dim light. It was as if they were being watched by eyes that hovered in space between heaven and hell; some angels, some demons; all rendered inhuman by the march of time. A carpet spread out in both directions from the lift, as if struggling to assert itself on the floor it thinly covered. It was, like everything else in the building, worn by time and use: scarred and bleached and, in some areas, completely beaten into submission. There was just enough room for the two of them to walk hand in hand, and they each sought out the other’s warmth in the bleak hallway. The faded numbers on the doors made it difficult to tell where their destination was, but finally they found themselves standing in front of number twenty-one. Juliana knocked three times. The pair exchanged a glance before the door swung open to reveal someone from their past lives; or rather, someone dressed just as they used to be, before they had changed forever. Douglas remembered Ms. Drummond’s anxiety about the two of them leaving her place before the drones arrived, and realized nobody had stopped to think about the drones that would be starting back at work elsewhere in the city.
“Welcome,” said the female drone, clearly and politely. “Juliana and Douglas? You are expected.” For a moment, they were speechless – Ms. Drummond had told them to expect an agent from the Free Media and all sorts of chaos on the streets, but this, encountering one of their own and not knowing how much they knew, was a different thing altogether. They were suddenly very conscious of their Old City clothing. They wanted to say something, to ask about what had happened; they wanted to shout, to tell this drone who they were and what they were doing there, but even if they’d had the courage, why should she believe them? They said nothing as they stepped over the threshold and into the flat. The drone introduced herself as Marcia and guided them to a cramped front room overlooking the beach.
“Would you like something to drink?” she asked in a monotone, as she motioned them to sit down on a small sofa.
“Just some water, please,” said Juliana in as nonchalant a voice as she could muster.
“Oh, yes, uh, me too, please,” said Douglas.
Marcia smiled, seeming proud, and then raised her eyes briefly. They were blank – neither Douglas nor Juliana could read any thought in them. When she had left the room, the pair sank into the sofa. What could they say? What could they do? Douglas could sense Juliana asking herself the same questions he was.
“I wasn’t expecting that. How do you feel?” Douglas whispered. Before Juliana could answer, another figure came bustling into the room. After handing them the two glasses of water they had requested, she sat directly opposite them in a wicker chair.
“So you’re Douglas and Juliana, the former drones who’ll be instrumental in bringing down the Corporation. You are the two who will help your people to escape their shackles.” She pointed toward the door, through which they could hear Marcia going about her business. “I hope it wasn’t uncomfortable for you, my allowing Marcia to show you in. She’s a little strange today,” she added. “Been with me for a while, and I thought she had warmed to my more casual ways, but today she’s very formal, just like when she first came here. She’s the only drone I have working here – it’s a small place, but you’ve got to keep up appearances. She has been instructed to clean the bathroom, so there’s no need to worry about her overhearing. It must be very strange for you two, though. Oh, I’m sorry, where are my manners? I’m Marcela. Just Marcela, but I’m sometimes known as ‘the girl from Ipanema’ in the organization. Well, you know a little about that already, don’t you? I’m… err... part of that organization, and our job is… Well, you know what our job is.”
“I thought… we thought… we weren’t really expecting to see any drones today.” Douglas glanced anxiously in the direction of the bathroom.
“Yes, we weren’t sure what to expect,” said Marcela, rapidly and almost nonchalantly. “The word from the Channel has been changeable, but we found out this morning that there’d be a normal workforce.” Douglas noticed that she didn’t seem to say Louis R.’s name with quite as much disdain as Ms. Drummond did. In fact, there was a slightly unnerving neutrality to her speech. “Marcia showed up today at the same time as usual, only in that state.” She motioned toward the door. “The Corporation must have taken care of things a little faster than we expected.” Douglas looked at Juliana. He decided he didn’t want to know what “taken care of things” meant. Not for now. For now, they would sit and listen to what she had to say. They had little choice.
Marcela’s brown eyes shot nervously from side to side as if taking in everything around them. She crossed and re-crossed her thin legs in several agitated motions. The hair on her head appeared to mimic the rest of her body, thin and unruly, dropping in strands from the very pinnacle of her skull. In her rapid conversation she exuded warmth, and though she spoke at rather than with the pair on the sofa, she did so with an interest in her subjects. She was dressed casually, much like many people they had seen on their journey in the Old City, and much like them: a pair of worn jeans that clung to her legs, her knees poking through two expanding holes, a studded belt strung over her delicate hips, a T-shirt emblazoned with great red lips. Her oval face was at times lost under a curtain of hair, which she was constantly pushing back. Marcia grew more excited as she spoke, clearly enjoying the rare opportunity to discuss her life’s work.
“I know a little about Ms. Drummond – Carolina – and what she’s told you, and I have already taken what you came here to give to me from your bags, so that I can disseminate the information to the people. So that together we can free your people and ensure that everyone can live a life of dignity and respect. I know that you’ve been told to stay quiet and follow instructions, and that being drones – ex-drones – obedience is your natural tendency, but I have you here now, and I want to tell you why you’re here. You have been chosen to help spread the message. You will be the mouthpieces of the movement to set your people free.”
“We—we heard something like this from Ms. Drummond,” Douglas interjected, barely able to get the few words out.
Marcela didn’t miss a beat, simply allowing her monologue to swallow Douglas’s addition. “Ms. Drummond – Carolina – knows exactly what is required as a member of the Free Media. We must maintain our cover at all times, appear to be like the rest of the world around us. We must not allow day-to-day trivialities to get in the way of the truth. You, my children, are the truth. The material you have presented to me will change everything. I know that Carolina suffered a tragedy, as many of us have at the hands of the Corporation and its desperate and despicable clamour for power and control. The Old City is a mess.”
“Sorry – please, slow down a little,” Juliana managed to blurt out. “What about those people out there?”
“Those people out there meaning the people you saw at the beach enjoying themselves, as they do every day of the week? They don’t seem to notice much, and who can blame them for trying to block it out? It’s not natural, living your life with the help of subservient beings with whom you’re not allowed to converse. Being brainwashed into thinking you live in majesty and splendor when everything’s crumbling all around you.”
“That’s a bit harsh, isn’t it?” Douglas plucked up the courage to say.
“Sadly not; it’s simply the way it is. We agents of the Free Media are more attuned to the truth of the matter, or at least, we’re trying to pursue the truth, and your evidence will provide more insight into how this world is really run.” Marcela was sitting very far forward in her seat, her posture growing more intent as she spoke. The wicker chair creaked beneath her.
“Listen carefully.” Marcela fixed them with an intense gaze through some loose strands of hair. “Drones keep this city going, and you are now ex-drones. We’ve been working towards liberating some drones for as long as I can remember. You are the opportunity we’ve been looking for.” Douglas and Juliana sat up, obviously paying close attention, finally grasping their role in this greater scheme. “The Old City is and always has been in a constant state of disrepair.” Douglas recognized the phrase again. “Those people out there, running around without a care in the world, depend upon the multitudes of drones that come into the Old City everyday, just as you two did until very recently. These people know nothing, they see nothing. The drones pass through their lives, cleaning, cooking, fixing, arranging and ensuring that they have nothing to worry about except the pursuit of pleasure. You probably saw people dressed in all sorts of exotic costumes today. It’s Carnival season – the ultimate pleasure period. Armies of drones have been working in the background for the last few months to ensure that Carnival is a period of pure hedonism and nothing gets in the way of the peoples’ pleasure.” Douglas and Juliana had a simultaneous moment of understanding as they remembered all the programs they had seen about the wanton and dangerous Carnival season on the Channel.
“I—I thought all of that had been banned,” said Juliana hesitantly.
“Oh no, no! I don’t know what you learnt in the Hives, but in the Old City, Carnival is the biggest party of the year, the time when the culture of the old society is celebrated. Out there—” she pointed out of the window “—there are men dressed as women, women dressed as men, men dressed as little girls, little girls dressed as loose women, and that’s just the beginning. The depravity seems to increase year upon year as the residents of the Old City depend more and more on their drones. And the drones go about their tasks with ever-increasing diligence and vigor, controlled by the Corporation. The situation is terrible for everyone: your poor people are kept in servitude, never knowing what freedom is, let alone how it would feel. And meanwhile the other half of society goes to the dogs. Do you understand everything I’ve said?” Marcela looked at them, with outstretched hands, seeming to plead with them to agree.
“I think I understand, Marcela,” said Douglas, plucking up his courage. “At least, I can see that this doesn’t seem the best way to do things. But I can’t see how things could be any different. What would the drones do if they didn’t work for the Old City? And would the people in the Old City gain from this system being brought down?”
“Don’t you see, Douglas?” said Marcela. “If we bring down the Hives and bring truth to South America One, sooner or later, people all over the world will be free again. Free from lies, free from servitude, free from rule by a despicable entity. Free to choose their own destinies.”
“But what if we just… leave things as they are?” said Juliana tentatively. “If we left things as they are, nobody would know any different. The drones would keep coming to the Old City, doing their jobs, happy to serve the residents. And the residents of the Old City would continue to enjoy their lifestyle, helped along by the drones.”
“And the Corporation would continue unchecked,” interrupted Marcela.
But Juliana continued. “Ms. Drummond said that the Corporation was developed in an altruistic spirit. We know that much from our upbringing in the Hives. Life before was chaotic and full of inequality.”
“But Juliana, don’t you see? It’s still full of inequality. It’s not just about you drones and the people of the Old City, though goodness knows that’s bad enough. Have you ever wondered who runs the Corporation? A group of ancient, filthy-rich men who control our daily lives. And the thing is, Juliana, now you know. You might wish you didn’t, but you do, and there’s no turning back.” Marcela adjusted her limbs once again in the wicker chair and sat back with the calm composure of someone assured of their own correctness.
“The thing is, technologically…” Douglas faltered and tried to remove his cap subtly, having suddenly remembered that he should have done this when he came in. Those old lessons at the Academy seemed so long ago. “… technologically… this Old City seems so far behind what we have in the Hives. If we dismantle, or try to dismantle, life as it’s been lived in the Hives, won’t we plunge that society back into a darker age?” Douglas was trying his best to articulate what he meant. These arguments were new to him, and he had no real concept of the big picture. But he did know about life in the Hives, and he had spent a little time out and about in the Old City, as well as a lot of time in the Machado de Assis building. That meant that unlike Marcela and Ms. Drummond, he could compare the two. “Technology is important in the day-to-day lives of the drones in the Hives. We – they – are sustained by it. If we somehow bring down the Corporation, how will the drones live? What will replace that sustenance?”
“I agree, Douglas – that might be tricky. But what will replace that sustenance will be freedom and the truth: freedom to develop your own technology, if you want to. To make your environment and lives exactly as you want them to be.”
Douglas pictured a world in which he could read all the books and listen to all the music he liked; listening to Led Zeppelin tracks without worrying about who was around or what they might think. “I think I’m beginning to see your point,” he said. But he couldn’t help wondering what would happen in the Hives if the drones suddenly discovered the truth.
“I understand that we’ve got to do something – after all, we’ve seen the evidence you’re about to watch, seen it first-hand in fact. But I just can’t understand what that something would be. I’m not very good at this, questioning instruction and all that. It’s new to me. But I’m afraid of what’s going to happen. I think we both are.” He shot a look at Juliana, who nodded.
“What’s going to happen is the Corporation that killed all of your friends will be brought to its knees, and the rest of society will finally see the truth,” said Marcela, quietly but decisively.
“But… how?” said Juliana quietly.
“The honest answer is I don’t know,” said Marcela, looking at Juliana earnestly. “The Corporation has a huge machine behind it, and it’s anybody’s guess how its leaders will respond to this. The first thing we will do is start disseminating this footage and ensure that everyone in the Old City, and any survivors in the Hives—” Douglas and Juliana grimaced at this “—see it. From there, we plan to send vehicles into the Hives to rescue drones. But the key will be flexibility. There might be more bloodshed.”
Marcela paused for a moment. She had given little thought to the idea that these ex-drones might somehow question the mission. They had been chosen. They were drones, and they were not expected to question orders. This was no tribunal, no courtroom deposition – they were here as messengers, as examples of all that could be accomplished. Douglas and Juliana were the poster children of the revolution. She hadn’t spent all this time indoors plotting the destruction of the Corporation to have it questioned by these two. Marcela looked beyond the couple towards the kitchen, and Douglas and Juliana exchanged a nervous look. Marcela pursued her lips and tried a different tack.
“Did you see Marcia’s eyes when you got here? They’re more lifeless than they’ve ever been. She’s like an automaton. A robot,” she added in response to their confused look. “Something has happened to her, and I can only imagine that the Corporation did it. I fear the Corporation is right now planning ways to keep the drones and we citizens of the Old City even more firmly under control. We don’t know how much worse it will get, but we do know that we’re dealing with desperate, determined people. And we’ve never had a chance like this before. A chance to show the world what life can be like for liberated drones.”
“But—”
“No, let me go on. I apologize for my sermonizing, but it’s important that you know the facts. You will be taken care of in every way. Before you leave this flat, I’ll give you the address of your new home. Of course it’ll take time to adjust, but you’ll have us on hand to help, as well as the knowledge that you’re doing something good and right. The Free Media will be very careful to protect you. And we’ll make sure that the Corporation can’t cover anything up in the Hives. We’ll need you two to compile a history of everything you know about life in the Hives. With this intelligence, we can force the Corporation’s hand, and in so doing protect the drones. Please. You two are the only ones who can free Marcia and others like her.”
Douglas and Juliana looked at one another.
“OK, we’ll do it,” said Juliana.
Marcela looked the two drones up and down. “You’ll do it?”
“We’ll do it,” replied Douglas and Juliana in unison.
“Well then, you’re free to go out into the world.” She handed them some money and a mobile phone programmed with the address and directions to their new home. “The phone will turn on as soon as you swipe it,” she said matter-of-factly. “And as I said, don’t worry – we’ll be there to protect you. As long as you follow instructions, everything will be fine.”
“So we—we…” Juliana hesitated, “… just go to this address?” Douglas could sense the apprehension in Juliana’s voice. He was excited about what lay ahead, having realized the importance of their role, but he also knew how she felt.
“Follow the instructions,” Marcela repeated. “You’ll be fine. In twenty-four hours you’ll hear from another agent with further instructions, but in the meantime you’re free to do what you want.” Marcela smiled at them, “Just try not to act like drones.”
Douglas and Juliana stood motionless for a few moments. Finally, Douglas said, “We’ll try.”
“It’s a wild world. Enjoy it,” said Marcela as she opened the door.
