darkened in a way that made Sheridan assume it wasn’t high.
“What a horrible system,” she said, feeling for Echo and Jeth so much that she forgot Taylor’s advice to sound happy. “You shouldn’t judge people by their bank account. Why does anybody go along with it?”
She expected Echo to agree with her, but he only looked at her with curiosity. “Why did the people of your day go along with your system? Excess was success. Why buy things you didn’t need, just to show your status?”
“Not everybody did that,” Sheridan said. “My family had a ten-year-old minivan and a truck that was held together with bailing wire and hope.”
Echo considered this. “You came from a low-ranking family then?”
No. Well, maybe yes, but that hadn’t been the point she was making. Sheridan didn’t answer him.
“I don’t like the badges,” Elise said, straightening hers. “But if you don’t wear one, people assume your rank is sewer sludge. It’s always the people with ranks in six or seven million who refuse to wear badges for philosophical reasons. Or,” she added with a roll of her eyes, “they say they lost their badge. Never believe it when somebody tells you that.” She pulled her comlink from her belt. “Which reminds me—I haven’t rated my friends today.” She busied herself tapping away on the function buttons.
“So,” Sheridan said, drawing out the word, “are we going to have to wear badges?” She didn’t know why she bothered asking. She already knew the answer.
“Don’t worry,” Elise said without taking her eyes off her comlink. “You’re so interesting, you’ll be able to reel in high-ranking friends.”
“And until then,” Jeth added, “you’re stuck with us and will have to answer our questions.”
The conversation went on after that, but Sheridan only half listened. She stared out the window and thought about rankings.
Not that long ago, she had complained to her mother about having to drive their beat-up truck to school. A few of the popular girls called it the Garbage Truck, and Sheridan had been afraid it was only one short step until somebody tagged her with the nickname Trashy.
So okay—maybe her society had ranked people, but at least they didn’t have to wear their status on their shirts like name tags that read, “Hello, My Name Is Loser.”
Echo followed Sheridan’s gaze out the window to the streets and pavement below. “Our city is much cleaner than the ones you’re used to, isn’t it?”
Clean yes, but she missed lawns, bushes, and trees. The city was one continuous beige without any green to break it up.
She studied one of the buildings farther down the street. “Why do some buildings have no outside walls?”
“Offices, apartments, and restaurants have walls for privacy. Stores don’t. They only use rails for the upper floors to prevent anyone from falling.”
Stores without walls? How did they keep people from stealing things? Sheridan decided against asking this question. If she asked about stealing, Echo might think she had a personal interest in the subject. She’d already branded herself as a low-ranking flesh eater. She didn’t want to add thief to the list.
“What about churches?” she asked. “Where are those?”
“Churches?” Echo said the word as though it had sharp edges. All conversation stopped. Echo and Jeth exchanged pensive looks. “We don’t have churches,” Jeth said. “Religion was banned ninety years ago in an international treaty on human rights.”
His words, although spoken softly, hit Sheridan as if they had actual weight. In her mind’s eye she saw her father standing by the chapel door greeting people who came in. He knew each person by name. She couldn’t imagine her life, let alone a world, without churches. “Banned?” she breathed out. “Why?”
Jeth’s tone indicated that the reason should be self-evident. “Religion promoted divisiveness and oppressed its followers.”
The subject was
“What a horrible system,” she said, feeling for Echo and Jeth so much that she forgot Taylor’s advice to sound happy. “You shouldn’t judge people by their bank account. Why does anybody go along with it?”
She expected Echo to agree with her, but he only looked at her with curiosity. “Why did the people of your day go along with your system? Excess was success. Why buy things you didn’t need, just to show your status?”
“Not everybody did that,” Sheridan said. “My family had a ten-year-old minivan and a truck that was held together with bailing wire and hope.”
Echo considered this. “You came from a low-ranking family then?”
No. Well, maybe yes, but that hadn’t been the point she was making. Sheridan didn’t answer him.
“I don’t like the badges,” Elise said, straightening hers. “But if you don’t wear one, people assume your rank is sewer sludge. It’s always the people with ranks in six or seven million who refuse to wear badges for philosophical reasons. Or,” she added with a roll of her eyes, “they say they lost their badge. Never believe it when somebody tells you that.” She pulled her comlink from her belt. “Which reminds me—I haven’t rated my friends today.” She busied herself tapping away on the function buttons.
“So,” Sheridan said, drawing out the word, “are we going to have to wear badges?” She didn’t know why she bothered asking. She already knew the answer.
“Don’t worry,” Elise said without taking her eyes off her comlink. “You’re so interesting, you’ll be able to reel in high-ranking friends.”
“And until then,” Jeth added, “you’re stuck with us and will have to answer our questions.”
The conversation went on after that, but Sheridan only half listened. She stared out the window and thought about rankings.
Not that long ago, she had complained to her mother about having to drive their beat-up truck to school. A few of the popular girls called it the Garbage Truck, and Sheridan had been afraid it was only one short step until somebody tagged her with the nickname Trashy.
So okay—maybe her society had ranked people, but at least they didn’t have to wear their status on their shirts like name tags that read, “Hello, My Name Is Loser.”
Echo followed Sheridan’s gaze out the window to the streets and pavement below. “Our city is much cleaner than the ones you’re used to, isn’t it?”
Clean yes, but she missed lawns, bushes, and trees. The city was one continuous beige without any green to break it up.
She studied one of the buildings farther down the street. “Why do some buildings have no outside walls?”
“Offices, apartments, and restaurants have walls for privacy. Stores don’t. They only use rails for the upper floors to prevent anyone from falling.”
Stores without walls? How did they keep people from stealing things? Sheridan decided against asking this question. If she asked about stealing, Echo might think she had a personal interest in the subject. She’d already branded herself as a low-ranking flesh eater. She didn’t want to add thief to the list.
“What about churches?” she asked. “Where are those?”
“Churches?” Echo said the word as though it had sharp edges. All conversation stopped. Echo and Jeth exchanged pensive looks. “We don’t have churches,” Jeth said. “Religion was banned ninety years ago in an international treaty on human rights.”
His words, although spoken softly, hit Sheridan as if they had actual weight. In her mind’s eye she saw her father standing by the chapel door greeting people who came in. He knew each person by name. She couldn’t imagine her life, let alone a world, without churches. “Banned?” she breathed out. “Why?”
Jeth’s tone indicated that the reason should be self-evident. “Religion promoted divisiveness and oppressed its followers.”
The subject was
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