imagined the glare he carried in his voice.
“It is your duty, Mr. Barque. You will leave next week,” the Greenie said. “The council has some matters to discuss before your release. Violet, I have no alternative but to banish you to the Badlands.”
Banished? For walking in the park with Zenn? “What?” I blurted out.
“Permanently.”
Everything moved too fast. The walls shifted inward. “What does that mean?” I shouted. “I have to live there?Forever?” I took several steps forward. Two security guards emerged from the woodwork, and I realized I’d crossed a line. The one too close to the Greenies.
“Sir, I think the girl would be more dangerous in the Badlands.” The bald guy who’d asked about the transmissions leaned forward. “She is a Free Thinker. Imagine the problems.”
“What the hell is a Free Thinker?” I asked.
Mech-749 slapped a patch on my neck. A silencer. Cursing is always silenced.
“Nonsense,” the middle Greenie said. “She is more dangerous here, amidst the tech, and given her family history—”
“My family history? You mean my dad? Where is he?” Only silence echoed off the walls. I took another step forward, very aware of their eyes on me. “I’ll do whatever you want! Don’t send me there!” My words flickered on the projection screens, scrolling across the bottom from one to the next.
The middle Greenie smiled without sympathy. His eyes flashed as he shook his head. I stepped forward anyway.
Don’t do it, a voice warned. Hearing voices isn’t all that abnormal. But the same voice—and this was the same voice as before—meant someone was monitoring me.
The middle Greenie’s eyes narrowed, almost like hecould hear the voice too. For just a moment, I thought he must be the one infiltrating my thoughts. But his voice had been distinctly higher than the one still echoing in my head. Don’t do it, don’t do it.
I took another step forward.
The middle Greenie raised his hand, causing security guards to swoop in and pull me back toward the Mech. I thrashed and kicked, and even with my soft-soled sneakers, one of them fell. I clobbered another one in the face with my tech-cuffed hands. I desperately wanted to rip the silencer off, but I couldn’t get my fingers up high enough. It would’ve hurt—a lot—but I didn’t care.
“I won’t go!” I shouted so loud, my throat ripped. “You can’t!”
Someone must have pushed a button or raised the alarm, because the courtroom swarmed with guards. Four of them tackled me before I went down. I finally stopped struggling when a taser sparked in my peripheral vision and someone kneeled on my spine. The guard cuffed me a second time, and I winced as the tech burned my wrists. Two pairs of advanced tech cuffs would cause blisters and a severe rash if I wore them for very long. My flesh was already tingling with techtricity.
“There’s your evidence,” the middle Greenie said. “We’llgive you one week.” He snapped his projection screen closed and stood. The other Greenies mimicked him, and as one, they marched out of the room.
One week for what? I glanced at Jag, my chest heaving in anger. He held my eyes, studying me like I was a difficult projection puzzle he couldn’t figure out. Refusing to look away, I stared at him until the guards yanked me backward.
Just as they pulled me through a door, a man asked, “What are we going to do with you, Mr. Barque?” The voice dripped with disdain, but somehow it sounded … familiar.
As I was escorted down the hall, I made the connection: The real-life voice speaking to Jag matched the one that had been talking in my head.
Gunner
1.
Someone is always watching. Always listening. Freedom doesn’t exist in the city of Freedom, what with the glinting silver surfaces recording thoughts everywhere and the surrounding walls keeping everyone and everything in—or out.
On the east, the ocean hugs Freedom, but no one knows how to swim. That’s against
“It is your duty, Mr. Barque. You will leave next week,” the Greenie said. “The council has some matters to discuss before your release. Violet, I have no alternative but to banish you to the Badlands.”
Banished? For walking in the park with Zenn? “What?” I blurted out.
“Permanently.”
Everything moved too fast. The walls shifted inward. “What does that mean?” I shouted. “I have to live there?Forever?” I took several steps forward. Two security guards emerged from the woodwork, and I realized I’d crossed a line. The one too close to the Greenies.
“Sir, I think the girl would be more dangerous in the Badlands.” The bald guy who’d asked about the transmissions leaned forward. “She is a Free Thinker. Imagine the problems.”
“What the hell is a Free Thinker?” I asked.
Mech-749 slapped a patch on my neck. A silencer. Cursing is always silenced.
“Nonsense,” the middle Greenie said. “She is more dangerous here, amidst the tech, and given her family history—”
“My family history? You mean my dad? Where is he?” Only silence echoed off the walls. I took another step forward, very aware of their eyes on me. “I’ll do whatever you want! Don’t send me there!” My words flickered on the projection screens, scrolling across the bottom from one to the next.
The middle Greenie smiled without sympathy. His eyes flashed as he shook his head. I stepped forward anyway.
Don’t do it, a voice warned. Hearing voices isn’t all that abnormal. But the same voice—and this was the same voice as before—meant someone was monitoring me.
The middle Greenie’s eyes narrowed, almost like hecould hear the voice too. For just a moment, I thought he must be the one infiltrating my thoughts. But his voice had been distinctly higher than the one still echoing in my head. Don’t do it, don’t do it.
I took another step forward.
The middle Greenie raised his hand, causing security guards to swoop in and pull me back toward the Mech. I thrashed and kicked, and even with my soft-soled sneakers, one of them fell. I clobbered another one in the face with my tech-cuffed hands. I desperately wanted to rip the silencer off, but I couldn’t get my fingers up high enough. It would’ve hurt—a lot—but I didn’t care.
“I won’t go!” I shouted so loud, my throat ripped. “You can’t!”
Someone must have pushed a button or raised the alarm, because the courtroom swarmed with guards. Four of them tackled me before I went down. I finally stopped struggling when a taser sparked in my peripheral vision and someone kneeled on my spine. The guard cuffed me a second time, and I winced as the tech burned my wrists. Two pairs of advanced tech cuffs would cause blisters and a severe rash if I wore them for very long. My flesh was already tingling with techtricity.
“There’s your evidence,” the middle Greenie said. “We’llgive you one week.” He snapped his projection screen closed and stood. The other Greenies mimicked him, and as one, they marched out of the room.
One week for what? I glanced at Jag, my chest heaving in anger. He held my eyes, studying me like I was a difficult projection puzzle he couldn’t figure out. Refusing to look away, I stared at him until the guards yanked me backward.
Just as they pulled me through a door, a man asked, “What are we going to do with you, Mr. Barque?” The voice dripped with disdain, but somehow it sounded … familiar.
As I was escorted down the hall, I made the connection: The real-life voice speaking to Jag matched the one that had been talking in my head.
Gunner
1.
Someone is always watching. Always listening. Freedom doesn’t exist in the city of Freedom, what with the glinting silver surfaces recording thoughts everywhere and the surrounding walls keeping everyone and everything in—or out.
On the east, the ocean hugs Freedom, but no one knows how to swim. That’s against
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