 
CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Also Available

About the Author

Glossary

Copyright
CONSENSUS: PART 1 – CITIZEN
001

This is how we used to live.

His voice sounded deep and solemn, as though he were sharing something profound. And that first word was drawn out, like he was gesturing to something when he spoke. But Rena couldn't see what it was. Nor could she see him. What filled her sight were things that didn't exist. Land rising up so tall as to block the sky. Trees growing wild and plentiful. Mist crawling through the forest like a living thing.

"I'm not going out there," Kirti said.

Her friend's voice cut through the elusive vision like a cold wind, leaving Rena to stare at the reality of her surroundings. A flat expanse of dark gray soil. Tufts of tan and rust sticking up in random places. Weeds. If she squinted, she could also make out olive-colored splotches of moss, but only a few meters out. Farther than that, all the colors blended into one. It was the fog that did it. Smothering all variation until there was only gray. Above the horizon the gray became brighter. Welcoming. As if someone out there were waiting for her. Rena had never found anyone, or much of anything. In all her exploration, she'd learned that the Barrens were appropriately named.

"It's cold," Kirti added. "I'm going back."

"You're scared," Dal said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Please."

"It's not going to affect your number," Rena said, turning around to face her friends.

Against the light of the city, Kirti was little more than a silhouette. Her long, black hair and tan skin melded with her white clothing. She glanced down at the blue glow on the back of her right hand. The three illuminated digits would have been clear inside the city. Out here, the fog made them dim and blurred. Kirti had a rating of 022. Difficult to accomplish for a sixteen-year-old.

"I don't know what I was thinking, Rena," she said, looking up again. "This is stupid. We shouldn't even be here."

Behind her, the Canopy filled the sky in a giant arc. Its translucent panels were gathering and clarifying the rays of afternoon sunlight. From the outside, it gleamed like one of those old-fashioned lightbulbs Rena sometimes found in abandoned buildings along the Outskirts.

Rena turned up her hands. "Everyone's so afraid of the Barrens. But there's nothing out here."

"Except the tree," Dal added.

Kirti didn't acknowledge the comment. "Then why do you keep coming?"

Rena opened her mouth, but she didn't have a good answer. It was complicated. There was something magnetic about the Barrens. They drew her. Being in the city was like being underwater. Out here she could breathe. And then there was this vague feeling of a connection to her past. Memories that didn't make sense. How was she supposed to put all that into words?

"Well, _I'm_ going," Dal said. "I want to see it for myself."

Rena smiled at him. Dal was always ready for an adventure.

Kirti looked back at the Canopy and shook her head. "The sun will be down soon. I'll wait here for ten minutes, then I'm heading back."

"We can make it if we run," Rena said to Dal.

"OK."

Kirti crossed her arms as if to show the clock had started.

Rena put the city at her back and faced east before jogging farther out into the Barrens. She set a moderate pace that would get them to their destination in just a few minutes. Dal came beside her, already panting. He was tall and lean, though not particularly fit. In the fog, his light skin appeared pale and his blond hair lifeless.

"When did you find this thing?" he asked.

"Last week."

Seconds passed with only the sound of their shoes against the damp soil. Then Dal spoke up again between breaths. "How can you tell where we're going?"

Rena nodded toward a short, prickly bush appearing out of the mist on their left. "Landmarks."

"You memorized the weeds?"

"Yeah... the big ones."

Dal fell silent again. Not because he lacked anything to say. He was conserving his air.

Rena noted more clusters of brush and made a slight adjustment to their direction before a huge, dark object began to materialize out of the fog in front of them.

"Whoa!" Dal said.

Rena slowed to a walk as they approached the old tree. It wasn't like the tall, narrow ones in her visions. This one was broad, with gnarled branches reaching out in all directions like massive, crooked fingers. A few lay on the ground in decaying pieces. The leaves had all fallen off long ago. Only the black skeleton of its trunk remained.

"Who would have planted it all the way out here?" Dal asked, walking around the dead tree with his mouth hanging open.

"Maybe no one."

Dal took his eyes off it long enough to squint at Rena. "What do you mean?"

"What if it grew here on its own?"

"Trees don't just grow on their own. Someone has to plant them and take care of them."

"No one takes care of these weeds," Rena replied. Then she shrugged and looked up at the tree again. "I don't know. Maybe that's why this one died."

Dal slid his fingers down the trunk before rubbing them against his thumb. The decaying wood felt slippery, something Rena had also noted last week. Dal's breaths came out in puffs of white, lingering near his face. The temperature was plummeting now that the sun was almost down.

Rena took a deep breath and let it escape between her lips, watching it dissipate into the air in curling wisps. "Do you ever think about how we used to live... before?"

"Before what?"

"Esh."

Dal smiled.

"What?"

"You think about the weirdest things," he replied.

Rena was considering which reply would be the most sarcastic when a distant yell stole the smile from her face. She peered west into the fog, where it was brighter from the sunset, but there was nothing to see. "Did you hear that?"

"Yeah. Kirti probably changed her mind about waiting. We should go."

Rena started running back, setting a quicker pace than before.

"You have to admit though, it's kind of creepy out here," Dal said, trying to keep up.

Rena didn't reply. She was worried about Kirti and too focused on watching the ground as she ran, retracing their steps. The glow in the distance brightened. The Canopy appeared out of the fog, taking on more detail with every step. When they arrived at the place where they'd left Kirti, she was gone. Rena's worry escalated to panic, and she launched into a sprint.

"Wait!" Dal said, having fallen behind by a few strides.

Rena kept going, her eyes scanning back and forth along the open sides of the Canopy where it was anchored into the ground. At this distance, the drab buildings of the Outskirts formed a blocky texture, contrasted against the light behind them. It was difficult to make out anything in the foreground. Rena was about to yell for Kirti when she spotted the silhouettes of four people standing a few hundred meters outside of the Canopy on her right. One was significantly shorter than the others.

Rena came to a halt and dropped to the ground. As the sound of Dal's footsteps approached, she turned and motioned for him to get down as well.

He stopped and crouched beside her. "What?"

"Shut up," she whispered before pointing at the four silhouettes.

Dal turned his head and squinted. Then his eyes went wide. "Oh no!"

Kirti was backing away from the strangers with her hands out to either side. "Leave me alone!"

"We need to do something," Rena whispered.

"Oh no!" Dal repeated, rubbing his forehead. "We shouldn't have left her." He was struggling to accept the reality of the situation, his thoughts fixated on their mistake instead of a solution. "We were only gone for a few minutes."

Rena grabbed him by the shoulders. "Dal! Listen to me. Circle around that way where they can't see you. Go into the city. Find a police officer and bring him back here as fast as you can."

Dal just nodded.

"Do you understand me?"

"Yeah!" he snapped. "What about you?"

"I'm not leaving her alone."

"Rena..."

"Just do it," she said. Without waiting for Dal's agreement, she got to her feet and began jogging toward the strangers. "Kirti?"

"RENA!" Kirti yelled. The tone of her voice was alarming, even more than her rapid blinking when Rena was finally close enough to see her face.

The three men near Kirti spun around, tense. Their clothing was dirty and ill-fitting. None of them had shaved in days. The one nearest Rena had a rating of 002. He held a small box, and judging by the 000 on Kirti's hand, it was one of those portable scanners for stealing credits.

"Oh, thank you so much for finding her," Rena said as she approached, trying to sound winded. She bent over and rested her hands on her knees. "We've been looking all over for her."

Kirti took a few steps toward Rena before one of the men stepped in front of her and raised his hand. "You stay put." The blue numbers on the back of his hand said he was also a lowrate.

"Where did you come from?" the man with the box asked. His voice sounded like rocks grating together.

"The search party right over there," Rena answered, standing up again to point toward the city. "I'm so sorry. She does this every once in a while. Wanders out here. It's really embarrassing."

The third man looked where Rena had pointed. His right hand was blocked by his body, his rating hidden.

"Search party?" the man with the box asked.

"I know," Rena said, smiling and rolling her eyes. Then she turned to Kirti. "Your dad's here this time. And he brought the police with him. You've got to stop taking off like this."

Tears began rolling down Kirti's face, glistening against her skin. She'd been too frightened to cry before. Now the adrenaline was passing, and the sudden rush of emotions was causing her body to shake.

"Oh! I know, honey. I'm sorry," Rena said with outstretched arms, walking right past the man in front of Kirti, who made no effort to restrain her. She embraced Kirti. "You must be so disoriented. It's OK now."

Kirti clung to Rena as if she had lost her balance and was about to fall off the ledge of a building. But it was the muggers who'd actually been thrown off balance—they had no idea what was going on. And now was the time for Rena to move her friend away from danger.

"Shh," she said in a soothing, motherly tone, stroking Kirti's long, straight hair. "Don't cry. I'm sure these gentlemen aren't upset. You only bothered them for a few minutes. But let's remember our manners now, OK? I want you to thank these nice men for finding you before you got lost out here."

Rena moved Kirti a few steps closer to the city as she consoled her. Kirti was too distraught to understand she needed to play along, so Rena smiled at the men. "Thank you for finding her. Really. We might have been out here all night."

She began leading Kirti toward Esh before the men were able to react. Then she raised her hand and began waving. "Over here! I found her!"

The resulting silence was deafening. Seconds seemed to stretch into minutes as the muggers waited to hear a response from a search party that wasn't there. Rena waved her hand again and yelled to fill up the quietness.

"Hang on there, girl!" shouted a gravelly voice behind them.

Rena turned to find that she and Kirti had only gained a few meters of distance from the men.

"Let's see your number," he said, jogging over to them.

Rena stuck out her right hand, while she tried another verbal deflection. "Oh my gosh! I almost forgot about the reward."

The man took her by the wrist, but gentler than expected. "What reward?" The scanner in his other hand was forgotten for the moment. Behind him, the other two men were leaning forward, clearly intrigued.

Rena tilted her head toward Kirti. "Her dad's offering credits for whoever brings her back unharmed. I'm sure he'd be grateful to you guys."

The man's grip loosened.

"He's really generous. Come on. You should meet him," Rena added, starting to pull away.

The mugger frowned, as if he didn't like the idea of going closer to the city, but his eyes lacked conviction. He was actually considering Rena's invitation. Once inside Esh, he would lose his nerve and run away, of course. But out here, away from the view of other citizens, his greed made him imagine the possibilities.

"Get your hands off her!" yelled a familiar voice.

The man's grip tightened.

All three men turned around.

Dal came out of the fog at a brisk walk, from where Rena had left him. His posture was hunched, and it was obvious he was prepared to do anything to save Rena.

The man with the box was still holding Rena's wrist as he watched the newcomer approach. The next mugger reached under the back of his jacket and removed a knife from his waistband. Light reflected off its dull, metal surface. It seemed to happen in slow motion, revealing the sharpened edge and the cruel point that would easily pierce Dal's flesh.

People may try to hurt you.

It was that voice in her head again. The man from her childhood. The one whom she couldn't quite remember. The man whom her parents and counselor said never existed. But he must have, because his words were there in her memory. Calming her. Focusing her thoughts. Allowing her to concentrate on every detail she needed to notice. Rena suddenly understood what to do, and she didn't hesitate.

She wrenched her arm around in a small circle and grabbed the man's wrist, breaking free of his grip at the same time. Yanking backward on his arm, she used the leverage to lift her foot and drive it downward against the side of his knee, snapping it with surprising ease.

He crumpled to the ground, and Rena held on to his wrist, pulling on it to launch herself forward into a run.

The man with the knife began to pivot toward the sound of his friend's screaming. He only made it halfway around before Rena got to him. She jammed one of her hands into the crook of his arm and shoved his fist inward and upward with her other. The man's elbow collapsed, and the blade punctured his thick jacket and the side of his rib cage. He flinched, letting go of the knife as he let out a painful grunt. Rena grabbed the handle and gave it a twist before jerking it free.

She was now only six strides from the final mugger.

The man was glancing back and forth between her and Dal, trying to judge which one was more of a threat. Rena was still moving at a run, but Dal's pace had slowed after what he'd just witnessed. The man turned and came at Rena, his right arm cocked back, fingers clenched into a fist. His height and thick clothing made him seem like a giant.

Massive knuckles came down at Rena's face.

She planted her foot and dodged to the side while bringing the knife upward. The mugger's rating left a trace of blue light in front of her eyes, the punch barely missing her face.

The man lost his balance and fell forward on his hands and knees. It was only then that he noticed the blood gushing from the underside of his wrist, compliments of Rena's new blade.

Rena turned and drove her foot as hard as she could into the man's exposed abdomen, trying to knock the wind out of him. As he fell on his side and clutched his stomach, she glanced at the other two muggers and verified they were still on the ground.

"Rena!" Kirti screamed, her hands pressing against the sides of her face.

Dal had come to a stop and was staring with his mouth open wide.

"Run!" Rena shouted at them both. "Let's go!"
002

Rena wouldn't slow down until they were all well inside of the city, with no indication of pursuit. Fields of dirt and rusting metal contraptions, surrounded by chain-link fences, gave way to concrete buildings with broken out windows. Then old brick structures appeared, with faded business signs and peeling paint. The structural beams of the Canopy were lower over the Outskirts. Most citizens were grateful that it shielded the city from the harsh environment. Channeled rainwater to useful locations. Provided warmth for everyone who lived beneath it. To Rena, it felt like a cage.

As they moved inward, the ceiling rose higher above them. The air grew warmer. The streetlights on every corner began flickering to life now that the sun was down. Broken sidewalks and crumbling asphalt gave way to maintained streets dividing neighborhoods of single-story houses.

Kirti lived farther in than either Dal or Rena. By the time they reached her place—an apartment in a fancy, three-story brick building with carved stone accents—she seemed to have recovered from the afternoon's unusual event. Her large, brown eyes had cleared. Rena couldn't even tell she'd been crying. Her long, black hair looked as straight and beautiful as ever. Even her clothes were still immaculate.

"My parents are going to kill me," she said, looking at the 000 on the back of her hand.

Rena brushed at the dirt on her own pants. There were stains on the knees that begged for an explanation. "I'll give you some of my credits."

"Me too," Dall added.

"No. That's alright. I should have known better than to..."

_To leave the city?_ Rena wondered. _To go out into the Barrens? To hang out with you? To make friends below my rating?_ Kirti's unfinished statement left an awkward silence, and Rena wasn't sure if she wanted to hear the rest of it. "I'm sorry."

Kirti didn't acknowledge the apology. Instead, she smoothed the nonexistent wrinkles from her thin, white jacket, took a deep breath, and turned to walk up the front steps. When the ornate door closed behind her, Rena looked over at Dal.

His lips were pressed together. "She'll get over it."

"I hope so."

They walked in silence for a few minutes, heading back out to the neighborhood where they both lived. Rena looked up at the framework of the Canopy. The metal lattice structure was slightly darker than the semitransparent panels revealing the dark gray of the cloudy sky above them. In another hour, none of it would be visible. That was Rena's favorite time of the day, when it felt like there was no Canopy at all. No enclosure to hold her. No ceiling to indicate how far away from society's center she really was.

"How did you do that?" Dal asked, breaking the silence.

Rena didn't have to ask him what he was talking about. She'd been wondering that herself. "I don't know."

"I mean, those guys were huge. And dangerous."

"Yeah."

"So? Why didn't you run?"

"Why didn't _you_ run... and get the police like I told you?"

Dal brushed his shaggy, blond hair away from his eyes. "The police don't patrol the Outskirts anymore. It would have taken me an hour to find someone. And then I saw that guy grab you."

"He was about to let us go when you came barging in. I had it under control."

"How?" Dal asked, turning to walk sideways so he could face her. "That's what I don't understand. How could anyone have a situation like that under control?"

Rena stared at the sidewalk as she remembered the words that had suddenly come into her mind. _People may try to hurt you._ Why? Was he speaking about specific people? Was it something about Rena he knew people wouldn't like? Or maybe it was just a general warning.

"I don't know. It was like I'd been in that situation before. I just... saw what to do and I did it."

Dal exhaled and slid his hands into his pockets. It was something he did every time he got uncomfortable. Those occasions were becoming infrequent these days, as he seemed to care less and less about what other people thought of him. But it still happened when the subject of Rena's past came up. He was protective of her, and the thought of what she might have gone through as a child, what she couldn't remember, bothered him. It was cute. It reminded her of the day she first met him.

Dal had been eight, Rena only seven years old. She'd just been adopted by Marshall and Clarine and brought home to their house. It was the first time she'd ever ridden in a cab, and one of the few times her parents had spent money for transportation instead of walking home from the transit station. Dal was playing in his front yard at the end of the street. When Rena climbed out of the cab, he stopped what he was doing and stared at her. A few seconds later, he waved. Rena didn't know how to respond, so she didn't. Dal stuck his hands in his pockets and pretended to look away until Marshall and Clarine escorted Rena into their house. Now Dal was seventeen, and aside from being taller, he still looked like that little boy in his front yard, unsure of what to do with himself.

They reached the corner of their street and came to a stop. Dal seemed like he wanted to say something, but he just smiled.

"See you tomorrow?" Rena asked.

Dal nodded and turned down the sidewalk.

Rena watched him for a few seconds before she crossed the street, heading for the third house from the corner. A short, metal gate opened to a concrete walkway across a small front yard of grass. Her parents' home was a freestanding structure, painted light blue—one of five approved colors for this neighborhood. While not as desirable as the multi-unit buildings closer to Esh's Center, it was a decent place to live. The adults did what they could to keep it that way, and voting to limit the paint choices gave the neighborhood a sense of order. Rena didn't much care for any of the colors. They were too bright. But it was none of her business. She wouldn't need to worry about things like that for over a year.

As she grabbed the handle of her plain, white front door, a sensor recognized the implant in her hand and unlocked it. The door swung inward and right away, Rena smelled the familiar aroma of vegetable soup. Clarine always kept dinner simple during the week. After work, she only had an hour or so to pick up Suzanne from daycare and Gareth from school, get them home, and put together a quick meal before Marshall came home. There wasn't enough time for anything elaborate, not that they could have afforded it anyway. Credits were always tight.

Gareth was sprawled out on the living room floor. The five-year-old had his markers scattered across the carpet, most of them with their caps off. He was so focused on his artwork that he didn't even look up when she walked over to him.

Rena tilted her head to get a better look at the building he was coloring. "Hey, cutie."

Gareth smiled, but he still didn't look up.

"What are you working on?"

"My house."

Judging by the number of windows, the building was about forty stories tall. It would have fit in perfectly at the Center, where canopyscrapers were the norm. "You plan on being a highrate when you grow up?"

"Yep," he answered without a second's hesitation.

"Rena?" her mom called.

Through the doorway into the kitchen, Rena could see Suzanne in her high chair. She had something orange all over her face. A second later, Clarine peeked out from behind the doorframe. "Where were you?"

"I went out for a run." It wasn't technically a lie.

"Your dad's almost home. We'll eat in about ten minutes."

"OK. I'm just going to clean up," Rena said, turning to head down the hallway toward her room at the back of the house.

"What happened to your pants?"

Rena stopped and looked down at her knees. "Oh yeah. I tripped in the grass at the commons. Too many people there today." _That was a lie._

"Oh. Well... try to rinse them out before you throw them in the laundry. I don't want them to stain."

"OK," Rena said, already walking down the hall. She went straight into the bathroom and locked the door. When she reached to turn on the faucet, she noticed dried blood on her fingers.

Mine or theirs?

As she leaned forward to get a better look, something clanked against the edge of the countertop. She glanced down and realized it had come from the front of her jacket.

The knife!

She must have put it in her pocket as she ran away from the Barrens. Why hadn't she noticed it until now? She reached into her jacket and pulled out a narrow strip of metal about twice the length of her hand. It was a piece of scrap that looked like it had been torn off a machine. The dull half was wrapped with some sort of twine, serving as a handle. The sharpened half was covered in dried blood.

She ran it under the water to wash off the blood, then set it on the counter while she took off her jacket and inspected it. Fortunately, the fabric was dark blue. But the inside of the pocket was purple where it had soaked up blood from the knife. There were even a few spatters on her sleeve. She rinsed those areas before removing her shoes and pants. The only stains she found there were from the dirt and weeds of the Barrens. Once her clothing was free of any signs of the afternoon's incident, she washed her face and hands. Then she concealed the knife in the bundle of her clothes and hurried across the hall to her bedroom. She hid the weapon under her mattress and threw her clothes in the laundry basket before sitting down on her bed to catch her breath.

Her heart was thumping in her chest as though she were in the middle of a workout. Dal was right. How could anyone have a situation like that under control? Had she done that before? Fought with grown men? Was that why she couldn't remember much of anything from the first seven years of her life? Anything before the police found her in that dumpster in the alley?

"Clarine?"

It was Rena's dad. His muffled voice had come from down the hall. Rena hadn't even heard him come in.

"Clarine?" he called again. "Come out here, please."

Rena went to her door and opened it just enough to peek out into the hallway. She could see that the front door was open. Marshall was standing in the entry with two police officers. He still had his jacket draped over his arm—he'd just gotten home from work but hadn't made it all the way inside the house yet.

"Marshall. What's going on?" Clarine asked, walking toward the door with a towel in her hand.

Rena closed her bedroom door and grabbed a pair of pajama pants from her dresser. She knew exactly what was going on. Kirti had told her parents about the stolen credits and her parents had 'versed the police.

That was fast!

"Rena Waite! Come out here, right now!" It was Marshall's voice again, more upset than she'd ever heard him.

"Coming!"

"No. Right now!"

As soon as she was clothed, Rena opened her door. The police officers were now standing inside, but the front door was still open. Clarine was asking them to come into the living room and sit down.

"No, thank you, ma'am. We just need to speak with your daughter."

Marshall glared down the hallway at Rena. His eyes were squinting in that frustrated expression he got sometimes. He was a patient man, but this was too much for him. He tossed his coat toward the couch and motioned with his finger for Rena to come.

There was no way of getting out of this one. That much was obvious. Rena took a deep breath and walked down the hall. As she approached the group of adults, she noted her mom's disappointed frown. Clarine helped Gareth pick up his markers and go into the kitchen with Suzanne.

"Rena," Marshall said, "these officers are here to ask you some questions. You're going to answer every single one."

"No lies," Clarine added, looking back over her shoulder.

Rena nodded.

"Hi, Rena. I'm Officer Dougherty," said the tall one, extending his hand. He had black hair and a pudgy face.

Rena shook his hand.

"This is Officer Naylor."

Rena shook Naylor's hand as well, noting the scar running through his left eyebrow. She wondered what had caused it.

"We understand you were out in the Barrens earlier this afternoon. Is that correct?"

Rena nodded.

"Speak up," Marshall said.

"Yes, sir," Rena answered the officer.

Dougherty lifted one of his hands and turned it palm upward. A holographic display of text appeared in the air above it—the report he was assembling on the incident. Most citizens couldn't afford an implanted connection device, called an interminal, but police officers needed them. The risk of losing or damaging an exterminal was too high. "You were there with a Ms. Kirti Vasu and a Mr. Dalyn Rigby. Is that correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And what were you doing out there?"

"I found an old, dead tree, and I wanted to show them."

Clarine came back from the kitchen with her forehead scrunched into dozens of intersecting wrinkles.

"So, you've been out there more than once?" Officer Dougherty asked.

"Yes, sir. I go there sometimes to run."

Dougherty nodded as he watched the report update itself based on Rena's answers. Then he looked up. "Are you aware that Commons Three is nearby? It would be a more appropriate location for exercise."

Rena glanced at Marshall. He and Clarine contributed to the Commons Maintenance Association for just that reason. "Yes, sir. I go there sometimes as well," she said, looking back to the officer. "But it's crowded and..."

Officer Dougherty didn't wait for her to find the words. "Well, as I'm sure you're now aware, the Barrens are quite dangerous. Even the Outskirts are becoming unsafe."

"Yes, sir—"

"Rena, what happened?" Clarine asked.

Marshall held up his hand. "Clarine, let the officers handle this."

Rena's dad was usually the first to jump in and take charge of a conversation. His deferring to the police officers was either a demonstration of his respect, or a sign that his frustration was beyond his control, causing him to give up. Rena hoped it was the first one.

Officer Dougherty nodded before looking back at Rena. "So, you went there to show them this tree. What happened after that?"

Rena recounted the afternoon's events, all the way up to their running back inside the city. She was careful to put all the details in chronological order so she wouldn't get in any more trouble than she already was. By the time she finished, Clarine had her hand over her mouth and tears in her eyes. Marshall was massaging his forehead.

Officer Dougherty glanced up from his report and nodded for the hundredth time. "It looks like another unit is just finishing up at the scene. They found blood from the assailants, but no weapon. Do _you_ have the knife?"

"Yes, sir."

"RENA!" Clarine said.

Marshall didn't bother restraining her this time. He seemed just as shocked, turning away from the conversation and putting both hands on his hips.

"Get it, please," Dougherty said.

Rena walked down the hall and into her bedroom. As she reached under the mattress, she could hear Marshall talking to Officer Dougherty.

"Who were these people?"

"Outliers, most likely. It's getting worse every year."

"But why would they need credits?" Clarine asked.

"Ma'am," said Officer Naylor, finally joining the conversation. "Unfortunately, there are people in our community who give their purchased goods away in exchange for stolen credits. It undermines our entire economy."

Rena realized she had forgotten to tell them that the assailants had ratings. They were citizens, not Outliers.

"If this upsets you as much as it does us," Officer Dougherty added, "I would encourage you to get involved in public safety matters. Our hands are tied unless we get the support we need to address these concerns. Most citizens don't want to think about it until something like this happens."

"Yes, of course. We'll do that," Marshall said.

Rena walked back down the hall and handed the knife to Officer Dougherty. She was about to tell him the missing detail about the assailants when her dad interrupted.

"Is this going to affect our ratings?"

Dougherty inspected the knife before handing it to his partner. "Naylor. We're almost done here. Why don't you wait outside for me?"

Officer Naylor nodded before stepping out and shutting the front door.

When he was gone, Officer Dougherty turned to Rena's parents. "Unfortunately, the incident this afternoon _will_ reflect negatively on your ratings. I'm sure you're well aware that having a weapon of any kind is illegal. However, since your daughter turned over the knife, I'll consider that when submitting my report."

Marshall nodded.

"Thank you," Clarine said.

Officer Dougherty looked down at Rena. "My recommendation... stay away from the Barrens. Don't even go to the Outskirts. It's not safe anymore. If you need a place to exercise, stick to the commons. That's what it's for."

"Yes, sir."

Dougherty smiled. "Mr. and Mrs. Waite. Thank you for your time."

"Yes. Thank you, Officer," Marshall said, opening the door for him.

Dougherty joined Naylor on the front walkway and the two headed toward the street.

Marshall closed the door and let out the breath he'd been holding.

Clarine turned to Rena. "Sit down," she said, motioning to the couch in the living room.

Rena had hoped to escape a lecture, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen. She took a seat on the couch and waited while her parents paced in front of her, deciding what to say.

"First of all," Clarine began, "we're relieved that you weren't hurt by those men. They could have taken a lot more than credits."

Marshall nodded. "That's right."

"I know," Rena said.

"And if something ever happened..." Clarine added, but her words got stuck in her throat.

Marshall took the opportunity to move the conversation away from such grim thoughts. "Rena, you're going to be seventeen in just a few months. And then you'll only have a year before your conversion."

Every citizen was given a rating at birth. One to one hundred. A percentile in relation to everyone else in Esh. At the age of six, that rating converted to monetary credits that were immediately available for use. Six-year-olds didn't need to buy anything, but they still needed to learn the concept of credit responsibility. So their conversion rate was one-to-one. One credit for every rating point. At age twelve, the conversion rate became one-to-one hundred. At age eighteen, it was one-to-one thousand. That was the stage at which a citizen was considered an adult, and if one was responsible, he or she would have already have been working for a few years to save up credits for the big conversion.

"You're old enough to make your own decisions," Marshall continued. "And most of the time you're fairly responsible. But then you have these... incidents."

Clarine jumped in as if this whole speech had been choreographed. "Your father and I don't put many expectations on you, but we're very disappointed right now. You know you shouldn't be going out to the Barrens. You're so much smarter than that."

"It's not illegal," Rena replied. As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she regretted them.

"That's what I'm talking about... right there," Marshall said, his voice getting louder. "Just because something's legal doesn't mean it's good for you to do. You need to start thinking in terms of positives and negatives. Before you do anything, ask yourself if it could raise or lower your rating. That's what it means to be an adult. And if you don't learn that now, you're in for a struggle the rest of your life."

A loud crash sounded from the kitchen.

"Mom?!" Gareth yelled. "Suzanne spilled."

"Hold on," Clarine replied, walking a few steps toward the kitchen.

"I'll tell you one thing," Marshall said, like nothing had happened, "you're not hanging out with Dal anymore."

"Dad! Dal had nothing to do with this."

"I'm serious. When you two get together, you get into trouble. He's a bad influence on you, and I don't want you associated with him anymore."

Rena got up from the couch. "That's not true! If anything, I'm a bad influence on him."

"Really? What's he rated?"

Rena looked down at the 013 on her hand. Dal was rated 011, but she didn't want to say it. A person's number didn't necessarily mean they were a good or bad influence.

Marshall raised his eyebrows as if to say, "I told you so."

Clarine continued into the kitchen to deal with Suzanne's mess.

Rena stood in the living room with her hands balled into fists. She didn't care what Marshall said. She was never going to stop hanging out with Dal. He was her best friend. She thought back to that first day in school, right after her adoption, when everything was new and strange. She'd felt so out of place. Alone. Then Dal came up and introduced himself. He said he lived down the street and asked if she wanted to play. That's when Rena recognized him as the boy who'd stared at her when she first arrived at Marshall and Clarine's house. He'd been there from the beginning. Her first friend. She wouldn't give that up if the Founders themselves were alive and standing in this living room, ordering her to do it.

Clarine came back from the kitchen, drying her hands on a towel. Marshall was still pacing. They made eye contact for a second before Clarine eased back into the conversation. "What I'm most concerned about is what you did to those men."

Rena unclenched her fists. The comment was so unexpected she didn't know how to respond. "What?"

Clarine came a step closer and took Rena's hand. "Do you remember Dr. Mallory?"

"Yeah?"

"That first year after we brought you home, you got in several fights at school. We took you to 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 room.

"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 than it already is."

Marshall nodded. "Yeah. Probably wouldn't affect their average anyway. Officers have so many interactions throughout the day."

"We'll just have to do better," Clarine said, looking straight at Rena. "We'll apply ourselves. Right?"

Rena nodded.

Marshall exhaled loudly before pushing himself away from the counter. "I have some catching up to do."

"I'm sorry," Rena told him as he retreated from the kitchen.

More awkward silence passed before Gareth said, "Can I have my apples?"

Rena realized she'd been staring across the kitchen where Marshall had been standing. She slid the plate over to her brother. Then she got up from the table and took her bowl to the sink.

"Aren't you going to finish?" asked Clarine, still standing in the middle of the kitchen like she was lost.

"I'm not hungry anymore."

Clarine's eyes suddenly looked glossy. She scrunched her lips together and lifted her head. "Well... this is how the rating system is supposed to work. We're all accountable to each other. Right?"

"I'm sorry, Mom."

"I know you are," she said, taking Rena's face in her hands. "Oh! I almost forgot!"

The sudden change in Clarine's voice was startling, and Rena flinched.

"I got ahold of Dr. Mallory last night. She was able to fit us in for this afternoon. So come straight home from school and we'll go together."

"Isn't that just going to cost _more_?"

"Don't worry about that, sweetheart. Your father and I talked about it last night, and we agreed. Your health is what's important. The credits... we'll work it out. Together. Alright?"

"OK."

o

It was a long walk to school. Twelve blocks to be exact. But Rena didn't mind. She liked the exercise. It helped clear her thoughts. And it would have taken just as long to reach the nearest transit station, ride to the one by her school, and walk from there.

The reason for the distance was that Marshall and Clarine lived just inside the outer boundary for this school district. Because the teachers and staff were funded by the citizens in their district, the quality of education generally improved as one moved toward the Center. There were always exceptions to such patterns, of course. Schools that somehow managed to overcome the lack of resources. Teachers who excelled despite the challenges. But on the whole, Rena was more fortunate than kids who lived only one block farther out. And while her parents' choice of location was a good strategy, it only made Rena feel more like an outsider to attend a school of kids from higher-rated families.

_At least I'm not the only one,_ she thought, spotting Dal as he turned from the sidewalk and headed through the front gates of the school. Rena jogged to catch up, weaving through the other kids who were also just arriving.

"Hey," she called out, reaching him outside the door to the main building. "I heard you had some visitors last night?"

Dal held up his hand so she could see his 009. "I'm in the single digits now." The gleam in his eye said he wasn't too disappointed.

"What about your parents?"

"They each lost two points. _That's_ what they really got upset about."

"Sorry."

"It's not your fault. Besides, you saved my life out there. I think a nine is... just slightly better than death. You?"

Rena couldn't help but smile as she looked down at her hand. "Holding steady at eleven."

"You know... your conversion will be here before you know it. You need to start taking your future more seriously." His disapproving, parental expression slowly gave way to a huge grin.

"Shut up," Rena said, pushing him.

"You first," he replied, stumbling away with exaggerated movements.

Rena was already feeling better. Dal's humor had a way of doing that.

"After you," he said, motioning toward the open door.

Rena walked through the door and into the main hallway. It was packed with students trying to make the most of their last few minutes before classes began. Talking about yesterday. Making plans for after school. Joking. Laughing. Hundreds of conversations creating a barrage of sound. It was the polar opposite of the quiet solitude of the Barrens.

"Do you see Kirti anywhere?" Rena asked over her shoulder.

"Why?"

"I need to apologize to her."

"You did that last night," Dal reminded her. "And she ignored it."

"Exactly."

Dal's eyes narrowed before he straightened his posture and began looking out over the crowd. His height gave him an advantage Rena had come to depend on over the years. "At the end. On the right."

Rena stood on her toes and caught a glimpse of Kirti's straight, black hair before she disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall. "Come on."

Rena threaded her way through the crowd, losing Dal in the process. A minute later, she caught up with Kirti outside her first period classroom. Unfortunately, she was already surrounded by several of her friends and engaged in conversation. And judging by the way she had her hand in her pocket, she hadn't yet told them about yesterday evening. Which meant she probably wouldn't want to discuss it in front of them.

"Kirti," Rena called, waving to get her attention.

Kirti raised her head slightly in acknowledgment but stayed where she was.

"Can I talk to you?"

Kirti put up her finger to indicate she'd be another minute.

As Rena waited for her to break away from the conversation, she let her gaze wander up and down the hall. Across from Kirti's classroom was Principal Jandreau's office. The short, balding man was standing just inside the doorway, shaking hands with a young man Rena had never seen before. Presumably a new student.

He was of average height, with close-cropped, black hair that was slightly longer on top and sticking up in all directions. His charcoal gray clothing fit tightly over his muscular arms and chest. "I guess I'll see you tomorrow," he said with a smile.

"Excellent," Principal Jandreau replied. "We're glad to have you."

The young man let go of the principal's hand and turned to the hall. His pale blue eyes suddenly met Rena's gaze... and hesitated.

Rena felt her heart lurch. She was embarrassed at being caught staring, yet she couldn't take her eyes off him. Despite the urge to look away and recover some of her dignity, she watched him walk toward her.

The young man never broke eye contact, as if this were a dual of wills. He just kept walking, turning his head as he approached. He nearly brushed Rena's shoulder as he passed by. At the last second, before he moved beyond Rena's peripheral vision, he smiled at her.

Rena's body refused to participate in the bizarre standoff her eyes had initiated. She wanted desperately to turn around and get one last glimpse, but she couldn't move. There was a tingling sensation dancing over her skin, warming her, like the young man had a wake of electricity trailing behind him.

And then the tingling was gone, and Rena had control of herself once more. She spun around, but it was Dal who stood there, hands in his pockets. He was looking off to one side, trying to appear as though he hadn't noticed what had just taken place.

"Dal?"

"I gotta get to class," he mumbled, without making eye contact. Then he turned and walked away.

Rena wanted to say something to make Dal feel better. To explain. But she didn't even understand it herself.

I'm sorry.

The silent apology suddenly reminded her of why she was waiting here in the first place. Turning around, she found Kirti standing away from her friends, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

As Rena opened her mouth to speak, the door behind Kirti opened, and the math teacher began welcoming students into her classroom. Kirti exhaled quickly and rolled her eyes before turning around and rejoining her friends.

A few seconds later, Rena was alone in the hallway and late for class.
005

Rena didn't see the new student for the rest of the day, which she convinced herself was a good thing. After all the recent commotion, she needed her life to return to normal. Boring even. Fortunately, her communications and math classes provided just that. Then it was on to her elective.

Rena had opted for logistics at the beginning of the school year, because she couldn't picture herself in any other profession. To be honest, she couldn't picture herself in _any_ profession, but studying logistics at least helped her understand what Marshall and Clarine did for a living and gave her something to talk about with her parents.

Dal was still acting weird when it was time for lunch, and Rena tried to smooth over the tension by making small talk. During the long, awkward periods of silence, she watched Kirti across the cafeteria as she interacted with her other friends. Her right hand was no longer confined to her pocket, but she kept her number facing away from her friends as she gestured or reached for food. It was fascinating to observe how she navigated her delicate social life, fitting in while keeping her 000 hidden from the other highrates.

After lunch, Rena almost fell asleep in science class as the teacher completed the section on rainwater processing systems. By the time she saw Dal again in social studies, the only class they shared, he seemed back to his normal, joking self. Which was a relief, because they walked home together every day after school, and Rena would have dreaded making the entire trip in awkward silence.

Marshall was home when Rena stepped through the front door. At a time when he should have been putting in more hours to make up for Rena's mistake, he'd taken some time off to watch Gareth and Suzanne so Clarine could take Rena to meet with Dr. Mallory. Which only added to Rena's feelings of guilt.

After a short walk to the transit station and a ten-minute ride toward the Center, Rena found herself on the third floor of a tall, glass building. She and Clarine sat in a small waiting room outside of Dr. Mallory's office. The entry room was kept separate from the exit room so outgoing patients had a private place to collect their thoughts after their session. And incoming patients didn't have the opportunity to make any judgments about the doctor's previous session.

Rena had already talked with her mom about school in transit, so there wasn't much else to do but wait. Clarine walked over to the Collective terminal and began skimming through various articles on psychological conditions and treatment. Rena stared out the window at the darkening city, mesmerized by the third-story view, which wasn't a common sight for her. She wondered if this was how Dal felt every day, being as tall as he was.

The office door finally opened.

Dr. Mallory hadn't changed at all. She still had the same shoulder-length, red hair that curled outward at the bottom. The same thin glasses. The same freckles on her nose and cheeks.

"Mrs. Waite."

"Hello, Dr. Mallory! Thanks again for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice."

"It's no trouble at all," she said before turning in Rena's direction. "Hi, Rena. It's good to see you again."

"Hi," Rena answered with a smile. She couldn't help but think that, technically speaking, it _wasn't_ good for the doctor to see her again. But she kept the comment to herself.

"Both of you, please come in," Dr. Mallory said, stepping aside as she held open the door.

The office looked the same as the last time Rena had visited. In over eight years, the only thing that had changed was the couch where patients sat. It used to be gray. The new one was tan. Dr. Mallory was obviously trying to provide a consistent, non-threatening environment for the patients. But it just made Rena feel unsettled, as if the whole thing were fake.

"Please, have a seat," Dr. Mallory said, motioning to the chairs in front of her desk. "Can I offer you something to drink?"

_You just did,_ Rena thought.

"No, thank you," Clarine answered. "We're fine."

Dr. Mallory sat down in an expensive-looking chair and waved her hand across her desktop. A holographic image of a folder appeared in the air above it, opening as lines of text flew out and arranged themselves into multiple documents. "I reviewed my notes from our previous sessions. And I've already read through the police report, so I'm up-to-date... unless there's anything you'd like to add?"

Rena shook her head.

"Just that... we'd been doing very well until yesterday," Clarine replied.

Dr. Mallory tilted her head to one side and nodded. "Rena, do you remember the delusions we discussed when you were younger? The trees? The land that stuck up in the air like buildings?"

"Yes."

"Did you have any of those delusions yesterday, when you were out in the Barrens?"

"Not really."

Dr. Mallory smiled. "What does _not really_ mean?"

In the past, she'd encouraged Rena to use specific language. Their conversations had been exhausting after Rena learned to second-guess everything before she spoke.

"Well... I didn't see anything."

"Did you hear something?"

Rena nodded. "When one of the men pulled out a knife, I heard a voice."

"What did the voice say?"

Rena glanced at her mom before answering, "People may try to hurt you."

Dr. Mallory's eyebrows came together as she nodded. It was her sympathetic look. Clarine often did the same thing.

"Mrs. Waite..."

"Please, call me Clarine."

Dr. Mallory smiled. "Clarine... the last time I met with Rena, we were dealing with her feelings of abandonment and insecurity. Completely valid feelings given the circumstances of her childhood. I advised you to concentrate your efforts on making her feel safe, secure, and loved."

Clarine nodded, her eyes glossy.

"Which she did," Rena quickly added.

"Of course," Dr. Mallory agreed, looking back to Clarine. "And over time, what that did was create a new foundation upon which Rena could build her life. She's now had nine years of stability, but what happened yesterday was an extreme situation. Her physical safety was threatened in a very... tangible way. Her response was instinctual."

Rena had actually been thinking about Kirti and Dal's safety more than her own, but she didn't bother interrupting. She and Dr. Mallory could discuss details later, if it came to that.

"What I'd like to say to you, Clarine, is that you shouldn't feel guilty. You've done an amazing job as a mother."

Clarine nodded and wiped at the tears welling up in the corners of her eyes.

"By focusing on Rena's foundational feelings, you were able to minimize her need for delusions, which were merely symptoms of the deeper issue. And, Rena, you accepted Clarine's love. You trusted her. Together, you've made a tremendous amount of progress."

_What is she getting at?_ Rena wondered.

Clarine reached over and patted Rena's leg.

Rena smiled in return, but only for Clarine's benefit.

"With permission from both of you, I'd like to try a different approach this time. Rena, I think you've moved beyond the need for your delusions, but your brain is still holding on to them. It's a defense mechanism against future threats... or the possibility of them. Instead of ignoring these delusions, it might be beneficial to explore them. Treat them as though they were repressed memories. If we can move them out of your subconscious and into your conscious thoughts, we might be able to pacify them. Show your subconscious there's nothing to be afraid of."

"What about Rena's actual past?" Clarine sounded worried.

"That may come... in time. For now, her delusions are all that her subconscious is willing to show us. So, we'll start there. How does that sound to you, Rena?"

Rena glanced at her mom before answering. "Good, I guess."

"What should we expect in terms of Rena's behavior?" Clarine asked. "Will this treatment make her less stable at first?"

Dr. Mallory shook her head. "The repressed memory exercises are very simple, initially. It's a gradual process that allows the brain to work at its own pace. I don't anticipate it being any more difficult than a good, heart-to-heart conversation. And Rena's had plenty of those over the years, right?"

Rena nodded and smiled back.

"That's good," Clarine said. "When should we come in next?"

"I'd like to get started tomorrow afternoon, if that's possible."

"Uh... I think so."

"And if you're comfortable with it, I'd like Rena to come on her own. Right after school."

"Oh."

"There's no need for you to take time off work, Clarine. It's more effective anyway if Rena assumes more responsibility for her own sessions. Again, it's about getting the subconscious to release its control over the conscious."

"Oh. OK. Are you comfortable with that?" Clarine asked, turning to Rena.

It was a relief to hear that Rena's counseling wouldn't interrupt her parents' work schedules. She already felt enough pressure without adding her family's financial worries on top of it. As it was, these sessions with Dr. Mallory were going to cost Marshall and Clarine more credits than they could afford.

"Whatever it takes, Mom."

Clarine smiled and patted Rena's leg again.

"Excellent! So, Rena, I'll expect you tomorrow afternoon when you're done with school. Clarine, it was wonderful seeing you again. If you ever need someone to talk to, you're welcome to 'verse me."

Rena suddenly noticed the 056 on Dr. Mallory's hand. She'd obviously learned to make herself useful to many different people.

"Thank you, Dr. Mallory... for everything."

"You're quite welcome. And please, call me Lyn."

Minutes later, Rena and Clarine left the lobby of the glass building and headed for the nearest transit station. The night air was cool in Rena's lungs, and it felt refreshing to be walking again. Unlike her neighborhood, where only the corners were illuminated by freestanding streetlights, these sidewalks had continuous illumination from lighting strips inset into the perimeter of every building.

"Well, this seems very promising. Don't you think?" Clarine asked.

"Definitely." Rena had never quite accepted the explanation that the images and sounds in her mind were delusions. They'd always felt more like memories. And the strategy of exploring them as such was exciting.

Clarine took in a deep breath. "Dr. Mallory is such a wonderful person. I need to remember to give her a good rating as soon as we get home. Don't let me forget."
006

"Did it go up before or after Clarine rated her?" Dal asked.

"I don't know," Rena said, looking again at the 012 on the back of her hand. "I noticed it after I woke up. Dr. Mallory may not have even been affected by my mom's rating. She has so many interactions with patients."

"But you, on the other hand, don't. So you must have said something right."

Rena shrugged. "I can be charming when I want to be."

"Which brings up a good point. Why don't you?"

"Maybe I am... with other people. I save my rudeness for you."

"I'm honored," Dal said over his shoulder.

The door to the social studies room was open, and more than half of the seats were occupied. Mr. Yan was standing in the middle of the semicircular arrangement of chairs, speaking quietly with a student in the front row.

Dal climbed the steps toward the back row. Though seats weren't assigned, the students tended to sit in the same place every time. He took his seat and quickly extended his legs so Rena couldn't get to the empty chair beside him.

"I don't know. You're a twelve now. Maybe you should sit down front with the other highrates."

Rena grinned as she looked down at Dal's legs. "Do I need to remind you of what I did to the leg of another single-digit?"

Dal's smile disappeared.

"What? Did I go too far?"

Dal pulled his legs in to let her pass, but his eyes were focused elsewhere.

Rena turned around and realized why Dal's expression had shifted.

The new student—the same young man she couldn't help staring at in the hallway yesterday—had just come into the classroom. He made eye contact with Rena for a moment before taking a seat in the front row.

And just as she'd felt before, the warm, electrical tingling came over her again. But this time it didn't take control of her body. She was free to move. Free to look down at Dal's face and recognize the bulging muscles along his jawline from gritting his teeth.

Rena slowly moved to her seat, grateful to have a physical motion to hide behind. But it only lasted a few seconds. When she was seated next to Dal, and had tried several positions before settling on one with her legs tucked to the side, she looked up to find him staring at the floor and chewing on his thumbnail.

The new student was reclining with his arms crossed.

Mr. Yan shut the door and began speaking to the class, but Rena may as well have been wearing earplugs. All she could think about was the new student, the way his presence made her feel, and Dal's obvious discomfort with it. Excitement and anxiety. The tension of conflicting feelings.

She closed her eyes and massaged her forehead, hoping it would calm her. Make her feeling differently about the situation. But her reality hadn't changed when she opened her eyes. It was like what Dr. Mallory said last night about the subconscious and the conscious. Her reaction to the young man in the front row was visceral. Something apparently beyond her ability to control or even conceal. And then there was Dal. Her best friend. He was acting jealous. And though that made her feel guilty, she could dismiss her guilt by reminding herself she'd done nothing wrong. She hadn't made any promises to him. Their relationship wasn't like that. She was free to feel however she wanted. Or maybe Dal was just being protective. Either way, she didn't want to ignore his feelings. His happiness mattered a great deal to her. Conscious thoughts. Controllable.

Rena felt like she was in the middle of a battle between her subconscious and her conscious mind. They were pulling at her. Ripping her apart.

"Why is agreement so important?"

Mr. Yan's voice suddenly broke through Rena's thoughts. A good sign that her mental battle was temporarily subsiding.

"Because consensus determines law," someone answered.

Rena glanced up at the clock on the wall to find that half an hour had already gone by. _How did that happen?_

"Why does consensus determine law?"

"That's the system the Founders put in place."

"But is that how it should be? How do we know the Founders were right?" Mr. Yan continued.

"Because... we agree they were right?" someone replied.

"Interesting," Mr. Yan said, pointing at the student. "So tell me the assumption underlying your statement."

The class went silent.

The new student held up his hand.

Mr. Yan turned and pointed at him. "Yes?"

"Agreement is the foundation of our society, because it defines what is right and wrong."

" _Just_ right and wrong... in terms of law?"

"No," the young man answered. "Our laws are an extension of what we know. They're the conclusion. The idea of consensus is deeper than that. It first determines what's true and what's false. An individual is susceptible to the lie of his or her own perspective. So... when we compare our perspectives, we find areas of overlap. Through agreement we discover truth. Agreement _is_ truth. And truth is the foundation for everything in our society, including our laws."

"Thank you, Lukas. I couldn't have put it better myself." Mr. Yan looked up to the rest of the class. "Has everyone met Lukas Kagan? He just moved into our district, so he's new to our school."

"Hi, Lukas," several of the students mumbled.

"Welcome," Mr. Yan said with a smile. "It's great to have you with us.

Lukas nodded.

"So..." Mr. Yan continued, "the reason I bring this up is because our next section of study involves Reentry. How many of you know there exists a legal process by which an Outlier may reenter society?"

Only a few hands went up around the room.

"As Lukas said, truth is the foundation for everything in our society. But the identification of truth requires the comparison of multiple perspectives, which of course requires the participation of many citizens. The more the better, actually. The higher the participation rate, the more confidence we can have in the truth that comes from it. Agreement is so fundamental that we even extend the opportunity for participation to those who have removed their perspectives from consideration. You see, we don't want fewer ideas. We want more. We _need_ more. So next week, we'll begin studying the process of reentry."

"Mr. Yan?" Lukas said, putting up his hand.

"Yes, Lukas?"

"No Outlier has ever used Reentry."

"Well... there has been _one_."

"She was the reason the process was developed. But that's not the same thing."

Mr. Yan scrunched his lips and nodded before looking around the room. "Why don't you explain what you mean, Lukas? I don't think everyone in here knows what you're talking about."

"Oh. OK," Lukas said, sitting up in his chair and looking back at the rest of the class. "I'm talking about Nadia Prall... the girl who was found in a drainage pipe on the Outskirts of Segment Six."

A few students nodded.

Rena knew who she was. She'd studied some of Ms. Prall's writings in communications class. The woman was now a productive member of Esh.

"She was only four years old at the time," Lukas continued. "She didn't have an implant, which meant she'd been born an Outlier and had probably wandered into the city by accident. The reentry process was created because of her. No Outlier had ever come back to Esh before her, and none have opted for Reentry since."

"I wasn't planning on covering this material until next week," Mr. Yan explained. "But since you brought it up, let's discuss it at a conceptual level. Does everyone understand what Lukas just said?"

Most of the class nodded.

"The finding of Ms. Prall was an important milestone in the development of our society. Her presence highlighted the fact that Esh had no established method by which an Outlier could rejoin society. Citizenship was essentially... like a door that only swings one way. And obviously, that didn't support the ideals our Founders left us. So it required a change. Does that make sense?"

Again, most of the class nodded.

"Does anyone have any questions about the basic idea of Reentry?"

Rena wanted to keep quiet, but her hand slipped up before she could help herself.

"Yes, Rena?"

"What point were you trying to make?"

Lukas turned his head suddenly, realizing the question was aimed at him, not the teacher. When he made eye contact with Rena, there was no feeling of electricity this time.

"My point was, only one Outlier has ever become a citizen, and that was because she got lost. It was entry, not Reentry. So technically, no one has ever gone through the process. The Outliers don't want to participate. They're criminals. They have the opportunity to live within the law and they choose not to. So do we really want their perspectives to be included?"

"A thought-provoking question, Lukas," said Mr. Yan. "Does anyone want to weigh in on the—"

"Maybe they're not criminals," Rena said. "Maybe they just don't agree with everyone else."

Lukas turned around in his chair so he was completely facing Rena. "Then they should stay and talk about their reasons for disagreeing. But they haven't. They've removed themselves from society, which proves that they didn't have a reasonable basis for their perspectives in the first place."

"Most people won't listen to a perspective that's outside of the consensus. So why would Outliers want to speak up?"

"That's an interesting point, Rena," said Mr. Yan. "So are you saying a consensus can be skewed if only certain people participate?"

Rena shrugged. "I guess. I mean... what incentive is there to disagree? Embarrassment? Ridicule? Shame? If the goal is to discover truth, then the process shouldn't suppress different perspectives. It should welcome them."

Mr. Yan nodded. "I think we agree on that. That's exactly the purpose of Reentry."

"It _does_ welcome different perspectives... if they're reasonable." Lukas was ignoring Mr. Yan and looking straight at Rena. "If they're based solely on emotion, they don't stand up to argument. That's when it becomes hard to overturn a consensus. That's not suppression. It's adherence to the truth."

Rena realized she was grinding her teeth and made a conscious effort to relax her jaw. Lukas was definitely wrong. That much was obvious. She just needed a good analogy to make her point more clear.

"This is a great discussion," Mr. Yan said, "but I don't want to get sidetracked with a debate. That's more appropriate for your communications class. I'm sure Mrs. Hutton would be more than happy to—"

"You said agreement is truth."

Lukas raised his head slightly. "Yeah?"

"I disagree with you... so you must be wrong."

Lukas laughed under his breath and shook his head. "You just proved my point. In the absence of reason, all you have is emotion."

"Maybe I _feel_ something because I know I'm right," Rena shot back.

"How could you possibly know that without first laying out a reasonable position for discussion and agreement? If you can't do that, then I'm forced to believe you're deluded by the lie of your own perspective."

Rena's line of thought was instantly sidetracked by Lukas's choice of words. She pictured Dr. Mallory sitting forward in her chair, saying the word _delusions_. She remembered the voice in her head saying, _People may try to hurt you_. She saw trees and falling water. She felt the wet, cool air of the Barrens on her face.

"Well, that's all the time we have for today," said Mr. Yan. "On Monday, we'll dive into the legal details of the reentry process itself, and we'll talk about Ms. Prall's experience adjusting to society. Thanks, everyone. You're dismissed."
007

Lukas sat back in his chair and let the other students file out of the classroom. Rena had been the first one to leave, followed closely by her friend Dal. The two were inseparable as far as Lukas could tell, confirming what he'd read in the documentation from Director Terrell.

To date, Rena was the most interesting assignment Lukas had been given. She wasn't the typical ignorant citizen, blindly following the rest of society. She'd put some thought into her questions. But there were gaps in her logic. Her position wasn't fully developed. If she was an Outlier spy, she hadn't been indoctrinated thoroughly. On the other hand, she had the passion of someone who'd been influenced by Outliers. She'd become agitated during the course of their discussion, indicating this wasn't the first time she'd considered this topic. And in Lukas's experience, citizens rarely ever considered the _why_ of their beliefs unless someone forced them. So what other explanation could there be?

Perhaps she represents a new level of subtlety. Outlier spies who are able to influence others with ideas not yet fully-formed? Perhaps her questioning is a way of undermining the system without it coming across as a direct assault.

It was possible. But Lukas had a difficult time believing the Outliers were capable of such sophisticated psychological warfare.

"Great input today, Lukas." Mr. Yan was smiling.

The classroom was now empty.

"Thanks," Lukas replied, getting up from his chair. "I'll see you Monday."

"Have a good weekend."

Lukas walked out into the hall and headed toward the main entrance with the casual, undisciplined gait of the typical teenager. Unlike previous operations, playing this part gave him ample time to think about his assignment. No split-second decisions. The puzzle of Rena's identity was going to take time to assemble.

I think I'm going to enjoy this one!

o o o

"I can't stand that guy!" Rena growled.

Dal tilted his head forward. "I believe we have reached consensus on that point, Ms. Waite," he said in his best, mockingly authoritative voice.

Rena took a deep breath as soon as she stepped outside. Buildings always made her feel smothered. The front of the school campus was crowded with students heading toward the street. She threaded her way through several groups before finding a pocket of open space.

"He said agreement and truth are the same. But if truth has to be discovered by consensus, then at least some people have to change their perspectives in order to conform to it... which by definition means it's something outside of us, not within us."

Dal shrugged.

"And if it's outside of us, how can he say it's whatever we agree on? What if we're wrong? Lots of people can agree on something and still be wrong."

"Yeah. I suppose."

" _That's_ what I should have said," Rena realized. Then she dodged another group of students and turned onto the sidewalk. As soon as Dal caught up, she continued. "What if I did something and then lied about it to a bunch of people? You could ask all of us what happened, and everyone would answer the same way. If I repeated the lie, I'd be with the majority. But if I told the truth, I'd be alone. Right?"

Dal nodded.

"So consensus is not necessarily interchangeable with truth."

"I guess not."

"You guess?"

"I haven't really thought about it before."

Rena realized she was taking out her frustrations on the wrong person. She was also walking way faster than normal. "Sorry. It's not you. It's just... I wish I could have said what I meant."

"I thought you _did_."

Most of the time, Rena's thoughts moved so quickly through her brain that trying to vocalize them only caused them to crash into one another, bringing the whole operation to a grinding halt. Maybe it was smarter to just keep quiet in class. And maybe it was better for Dal if she kept quiet now too. But after walking a block and a half in silence, her lips started moving again.

"I didn't get a look at his number. I bet he's a highrate."

"Twenty-five," Dal replied.

"Figures. He probably spends all his time voting."

Dal looked up at the Canopy and his pace slowed. He obviously wasn't interested in talking about Lukas.

Rena took the hint. "The reason the Outliers don't opt for Reentry is probably the same reason they left Esh in the first place. That's what we should be focusing on. Instead of automatically assuming they're criminals, we should be asking ourselves—what's so wrong with our society that people want to leave?"

"I can think of a few things..." Dal said, now at a stop and looking back toward the school.

Kirti was a half-block away and walking in their direction.

Rena frowned at Dal. "That's mean. Why do you say things like that?"

"Because she's a snob."

"No, she's not. She's just... Kirti."

"Why do you always defend her?"

Rena had to think about it. "I don't know."

"You two have nothing in common."

"It didn't used to be like that. When we first met, she was more..."

"Like a normal person and less like a snob?"

Rena tried to ignore his comment. "Like she needed a friend."

"Trust me," Dal said, his voice quieter now that Kirti was close enough to hear. "She has plenty of friends."

"Now who's being a snob?" Rena whispered, leaving Dal and walking back toward Kirti. When they met, Rena turned to walk beside her. "Hey."

"Hi," Kirti replied with an awkward smile.

"I meant to talk with you yesterday. I wanted to apologize again for taking you out to the Barrens."

"That's OK."

"No. It was stupid, like you said. And it was dangerous."

Kirti eyed Dal as they reached the place where he was standing. "I didn't have to go with you. That was my choice."

Rena glanced down at Kirti's rating, which was now 001. "Your parents didn't replace your credits?"

"No. My father said I needed to learn this lesson once and for all."

Rena nodded. "That sounds familiar. My parents are having me go to counseling again. But it's good. It's healthy. I'm going to start applying myself and turn—"

"Look, Rena. I don't know how to say this."

All three of them came to a stop on the sidewalk.

"I was so scared. And you saved my life out there. I'll never forget that."

"OK?" Rena replied with a frown, waiting for the next part of Kirti's confession, which sounded like it wasn't going to be pleasant.

"But... I can't hang out with you anymore."

"Oh."

"I need to focus on my future. My conversion is coming up... and hanging out with you—"

"I know," Rena said, not wanting to hear the rest. "Me too. But things are going to be different. I'm going to start voting and... applying myself."

Kirti was shaking her head. "No. You don't understand. My parents are making me delete our association. I can't be friends with you anymore, Rena."

Rena couldn't believe what she was hearing. They'd been friends for over five years now. This seemed so drastic.

"I'm sorry," Kirti offered. She had tears in her eyes, and it seemed like she was genuinely upset about her parents' decision. But not so upset that she would defy them.

Rena couldn't think of anything to say. Nothing that would change the situation. But she opened her mouth anyway, just in case the right words might fall off the tip of her tongue.

"I have to go," Kirti said, wiping the tears from her eyes. Then she turned and walked away.

Rena watched her go, stunned by how quickly their relationship had fallen apart.

"See what I mean?" Dal said, breaking the uncomfortable silence. "Snob."

Rena wanted to smile, but she couldn't manage it.

"Are you going to be OK?"

Rena nodded slowly.

"You want to hang out?"

Now she smiled. "I wish I could. I have another appointment with Dr. Mallory."

"Well, come on then. I'll walk you to the transit station."
008

Rena's heart beat fast from exertion. Sweat clung to her skin, but the air was cool and dry. Refreshing. The pine forest towered overhead, blocking out most of the direct sunlight. Her soft, leather boots made little sound against the damp earth. Just quiet, dull thuds in the steady repetition of a brisk hike. All around her, higher pitched sounds echoed through the forest. Some were clear and close. Others muffled. Distant. The trill of birds was almost a constant presence, yet Rena could only see a few of them at a time. The tiny, brown and gray bodies flitted through the branches so quickly it was a wonder they didn't crash into something. Even when they landed, their heads still moved with a sense of urgency. Pivoting from one position to the next without any discernable movement between.

Rena inhaled a deep breath of the pine-scented air and kept ascending. She'd been following a gurgling stream that meandered back and forth as it came down the mountain. This was her favorite route to the top, because the water gave her something interesting to watch for almost the whole trip. Where it spilled over rocks, it shimmered. Where it landed, bubbles floated to the surface. Where it changed directions, it swirled lazily in wide pools. And that was where the flowers grew. Clustered around its banks. Miniature crowds of rainbow-colored hands. Greeting each other. Reaching out for the sunlight.

The mist that had surrounded her at the lower elevation was gone now. Up ahead, a break in the trees revealed a large patch of blue sky. To her right, a familiar boulder protruded from the soil, jagged and gray. All indications that she was seconds from reaching her destination.

Rena couldn't contain herself. She ran, pushing until her legs burned. The ground passed by in a blur. The trees opened. All of a sudden, she found herself standing on a wide expanse of bare rock ending at a cliff. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her breathing was ragged. Sky and trees and rolling hills as far as her eyes could see. A gentle breeze blew across the cliff, and Rena closed her eyes, feeling its caress on her damp skin. Long strands of hair swung in front of her face, tickling her nose. She couldn't help the giggle that escaped her mouth.

"And now... you're back with me," said a calm voice. It was followed by the sound of snapping fingers.

Rena opened her eyes and saw the ceiling of Dr. Mallory's office. The white panels and artificial lights were a disappointment after what she'd just witnessed.

Dr. Mallory was sitting nearby in a chair. "How are you feeling?"

Rena sat up on the couch. "Fine."

"Are you ready to talk about what you saw, or do you need a minute?"

"No, I'm ready."

"Good." Dr. Mallory looked down at her notes, hovering in the air above her hand. She had one of those expensive interminals like Officer Dougherty, in addition to the exterminal at her desk. "Tell me about the land."

Rena tucked her legs underneath her and made herself comfortable. "It rose up in the air. Not straight up, like buildings. More... at an angle, like this," she demonstrated with her hand.

"Like stairs?"

"Yes. But it wasn't all at the same angle. And not all the same height. It was... random."

"You called it _mountains_. Where did you hear that word?"

"I don't know."

"Was someone there with you? Someone else who called it _mountains_?"

"No. I was alone. I just knew what to call it when I was there."

"So you were alone this time?"

"Yes."

Dr. Mallory looked down at her notes again. "When you were young, you mentioned a man."

"Well, yes. He was nearby, in a house at the bottom of the mountain. But this time I was hiking by myself. So, I guess I wasn't technically alone."

The counselor smiled. " _Hiking_. That's another word you mentioned during the exercise."

Rena shrugged. "I don't know where I heard it, but it makes sense to me when I'm there."

"What about the trees? How did they appear?"

"There were different kinds. Most of them were narrow and tall. The bark was rough. It almost looked like it was peeling off. Sticky in some places. And the leaves were... I don't know... like green spikes or something."

Dr. Mallory nodded. She probably thought Rena was crazy, but she was doing a good job keeping her reactions subtle and vague. "And the other trees?"

"They were shorter and round. More like the ones in the commons."

"You called it a _forest_ again. The same word you used when you were younger."

"That's what it's called when the trees are close together," Rena said. "And the smell is so... strong. And sweet. I don't know. It's difficult to describe."

"That's fine. Why don't you pick something else."

Rena smiled as something came instantly to her mind. "The sky. There was no Canopy. It was... open. Like in the Barrens but no fog or rain. It was blue."

Dr. Mallory's eyebrows rose.

"And when I got to the top of the mountain, I could see everything. It was the most amazing feeling."

Dr. Mallory smiled. "I can see it makes you happy."

"Yeah."

"That's good," she added, pushing her glasses up her nose. "I think all of us—no matter what our rating, or what we do for a living, or how old we are—we want to be happy."

Rena nodded. But it felt like she had just admitted to doing something wrong.

"Now I want you to stand up and come with me over to the window."

"OK..." Rena agreed, slowly pushing herself up from the couch. She followed Dr. Mallory to the window and stood next to the woman, looking out over the city from the third-story perspective.

"What do you see?"

Rena wondered if it was a trick question. "Esh?"

"Can you describe it?"

_Well... it's ugly, for one thing,_ Rena thought. But she kept this to herself and tried to go along with the exercise. She needed Dr. Mallory to understand she was applying herself to the treatment. "Um. It's gray," she answered, looking up at the Canopy and late afternoon light coming through from the sky beyond. "I see streets. People walking. And buildings... lots of them. It's... crowded? And flat."

"Exactly. It's flat. All the way across the city and even onto the Barrens. As far as anyone has ever ventured, the land is flat."

Now Rena understood where this conversation was headed.

"We want to be happy," Dr. Mallory continued. "It's how our minds work. Being happy is good for us, and our brains want it so badly they'll try to create happiness if they can't actually experience it."

"Delusions," Rena said.

"That's right. The visions you see are delusions. And we can know this because there are no such things as _mountains_ or _forests_ in Esh. The only trees that exist are the ones in the commons. And you know as well as I do that trees have to be planted and cultivated in order to grow. We don't find them just sprouting out of the ground everywhere."

Rena thought of the dead tree in the Barrens, but she didn't say anything.

"While you're inside these delusions, experiencing them, you're happy. What other things do you feel?"

"Um. I guess I feel... safe. Unafraid. Like I can go anywhere or do anything."

"Free?"

"Yeah."

Dr. Mallory nodded. "If that was truly your childhood experience, then how would you have learned to break a man's knee? Or slash someone's wrist with a knife?"

"I don't know. I guess I couldn't have."

Dr. Mallory put her hand on Rena's shoulder. "Whatever you experienced as a child was not the happiness you needed. So your brain created what was lacking. The reason I'm asking you these questions is so you'll see the absurdity for yourself. These experiences seem real, but they couldn't possibly be. That's the creative power of the brain."

"OK."

"I don't want you to just agree with me. I want you to know this for yourself."

"I do," Rena replied. "It's just my brain that won't cooperate."

Dr. Mallory smiled and gave Rena's shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "This is a fantastic first step. Over the weekend, I want you to get plenty of rest. And spend some time thinking about what we've discussed. I'll see you again on Monday?"

"Monday," Rena agreed.
009

The sun had risen enough that the canopyscrapers at the Center were no longer silhouettes. The blurry circle of light, only visible because of the polarizing effect of the Canopy, was paler than the sun in Rena's visions. Was that because delusions were optimistic by their nature? Did her brain want so badly to see a yellow sun, hanging in a blue sky, that it had created the image with more vibrant colors? If so, how did it know what colors to use? Or what the sky would look like without clouds? The sun without the obscurity? Did it just guess?

Or is the explanation simpler than that? Maybe I've seen the sky from somewhere other than—

"Good morning," said a man, jogging along the paved path where Rena was warming up.

"Good morning," she replied, watching him recede into the distance.

The path encircled Commons Three, the public greenspace nearest to Rena's house. It was the _appropriate_ place to exercise. On this morning, it looked as though Officer Dougherty must have reminded every citizen in the area of that fact. From where Rena stood, hundreds of people were visible. Strolling across the grass. Sitting beside the pond. Having conversations beneath the overhanging foliage of trees that had been strategically placed to enhance the aesthetic value of the commons.

Rena shifted her weight and began swinging her other leg, warming up her muscles to prepare for a run.

"Beautiful morning, isn't it?" asked a woman, jogging by at a slow pace.

"Yes, it is," Rena replied.

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she had forgotten how many times she had swung her right leg. She had been counting before the interruption, to make sure she wasn't favoring one side of her body.

Oh well. It feels loose enough.

Rena let a few more citizens go by before stepping on the path and setting out at a moderate pace. The sound of her footsteps on the pavement was rhythmic and quickly lulled her into a reflective mood.

Alright. What was I thinking about before?

She had a vague feeling it had to do with the Barrens. There was something mesmerizing about that place. Marshall and Clarine would never understand her attraction to it. No one would. The only thing other citizens noticed was the ugliness of it. The uselessness of it. But that was what Rena liked. It was the complete opposite of Esh, where everything had been designed for a purpose. Every surface and structure bore the marks of human intervention. But the Barrens were wild. Untouched. And Rena couldn't help but find that appealing.

"Good morning," said the slow-jogging woman as Rena passed her.

"Morning," she replied.

It struck her how the citizens' politeness increased with proximity to the Center, like everything else in Esh. Farther inside, people's lives revolved around how their behavior affected others. Toward the outside, they preyed upon one another. There was no reason to feel sorry for what she'd done to those men in the Barrens. Though Dr. Mallory would have argued the point, Rena thought they'd received what they deserved. If they chose to live on the outskirts of society and survive by taking what they hadn't earned, then it could just as easily be taken away from them as well. It was a dangerous life they chose. And it was arrogant for them to think they were the only dangerous people out there.

Suddenly, Rena could hear Clarine's pleas. _What's going to come out of you next time? What happens if you do something that can't be fixed?_

If danger followed the same pattern as everything else in Esh, where did Rena fit along that spectrum? She was apparently more dangerous than those thieves, and they had been at the far edge of society. Living along the Outskirts. Prowling the Barrens. Did that mean she deserved to be even farther from the Center than those criminals? There was only one group of people who fit that description.

Outliers. If I'm so dangerous, maybe I belong—

"On your left," came a loud voice from behind.

Rena glanced back over her shoulder to see a tall man running in long strides. He passed Rena as if she were standing still. As her eyes followed him, noting his perfect posture and efficient form, she caught something out of the corner of her eye. On instinct, she dodged to the side, barely missing two citizens who thought it was a good idea to have their conversation while standing in the middle of the path. Avoiding the collision took Rena off the pavement and into the wet grass, where her shoes slid beneath her. She wobbled for a moment before regaining her balance and making her way carefully back to the path.

When she stepped on the pavement again, her shoes were caked with mud.

Great! Just what I needed.

If she'd been out in the Barrens, the mud wouldn't have bothered her.

_But I'd be wearing boots,_ she argued with herself.

Moving to the other side of the path, Rena swiped her feet through a patch of dry grass. Then she took off again, frustrated by the crunching feeling of the mud grinding against the pavement.

"Good morning," said another citizen.

_Oh, shut up!_ Rena thought. And not in the playful way, like with Dal. In this case, she really meant it. She wished everyone would just shut their mouths and exercise. Or at least let her exercise without interrupting her every thought.

In the absence of reason, all you have is emotion.

Now it was Lukas's words coming to mind. She could picture him turned around in his chair, his muscular arms crossed. The smirk on his face said he was enjoying himself. Like he was smarter than Rena... and he knew it. His lips curved up on one side, pointing at the dimple on his cheek. Above that, an eye barely squinting. A pale blue eye that had seen too much. Wisdom beyond its years. A strong jawline that now looked confident instead of arrogant. And the lips were no longer curved. They were relaxed. Expectant. Waiting to be—

What? No way!

The logical side of Rena, the smart one, stepped in.

What's wrong with you? You hate him!

It was true. She did hate him. Especially when she thought about the way he spoke of the Outliers. Like they weren't even people. Like Reentry shouldn't exist. A waste of resources. How else were Outliers supposed to get back in?

But you don't want them to, right? You only want certain perspectives to be included. The ones that agree with yours.

That was the real problem. Citizens always spoke of how important it was to contribute their perspectives and to rate everything. But the rating system only discouraged them from having a different perspective. It was like the whole society, from Esh's layout to the phrases repeated on the lips of its citizens, was proclaiming one single message.

Please, please vote... and vote exactly like everyone else!

What would Mr. Yan have said to that? How would his social studies class have reacted if Rena had been able to think on her feet and put those thoughts into such blunt words? What would Lukas have said?

Let's find out on Monday.

She wasn't planning on backing down from this fight. Lukas was wrong. And Rena was going to prove it.

On the path ahead, the tall man with perfect posture had come into view around a bend. Rena must have caught up with him. She realized how fast her legs were moving. And now that she was paying attention, her heart rate was much higher than it needed to be. She slowed to a manageable pace and concentrated on her breathing to get her heart to slow.

"On your right!" came another voice from behind.

As Rena veered left, she glanced at the grass on the side of the path, in case she might need to jump there. It was muddy. She couldn't help but laugh, which only ruined her breathing. And that made her laugh even more. Giving in to inevitability, she made her way to the dry side of the path and stepped off into the grass. With her hands on her hips, she kept moving at a walk, sucking in deep breaths of air. By the time her heart rate had returned to normal, the humor of the situation had passed.

"Good morning," said a women walking in the other direction.

Rena just smiled at her.

What would these people do if I started climbing that tree?

She imagined herself doing here what she was only free to do among the abandoned buildings of the Outskirts. Throwing rocks. Climbing fences. Running through rusted machinery. Jumping over obstacles.

I suppose I could jump over the people lying on the grass. Push some of them into the pond. See how fast I could weave through the ones on the path. Maybe I could get Mr. Perfect Posture to slide through mud.

It was a funny thought. But only for a few seconds. Then Rena tried to take a deep breath and exhale the frustration building up.

Too many people. Can't breathe in here.

Her eyes went up to the Canopy with its translucent panels. The metal framework was higher here than above her house. The triangles formed a geometric pattern that drew her eye to the west, where a massive support column rose up from the center of the city. Everything pointed inward. Always to the Center.

When Rena's gaze came down again, she found it shifting from one person to another. Looking for anything out of the ordinary. Was that man looking in her direction? Was that woman staring at her? How long had that couple been lying by the pond?

Someone's watching me.

Rena kept looking around but couldn't pinpoint the source of the feeling. After a moment, she gave up. A _delusion_ is what Dr. Mallory would have called it. And maybe she would have been right. Maybe everyone was right.

It seemed like Rena was the only one asking questions. The only one who noticed the inherent contradiction of the rating system. Perhaps she was crazy and everyone else was sane. As she looked around the commons, it certainly seemed that way. The rest of the citizens appeared to be enjoying each other's company. Though her instincts told her otherwise, Rena could admit the possibility that she was wrong. Maybe she just needed to keep applying herself, like Clarine said. That was what she had done after her adoption, to make her new parents happy. And it was what she had been doing less of, lately. Perhaps Marshall and Clarine actually knew what was best for her, and Rena needed to trust them.

_Stop asking questions,_ she thought. _Apply yourself. Be a good girl and see what happens. It can't hurt._

In fact, she knew it would do the opposite. If she acted as Dr. Mallory and everyone else expected, her behavior would benefit everyone around her. And wasn't that the purpose of the system anyway? For people to help each other?

Rena turned and began walking home. She was ready to commit to this different approach. If she started voting regularly again and got her rating up, she might be able to help Marshall and Clarine instead of hurting them. With her _friend_ association to Dal, her efforts would also impact his rating. And he needed all the help he could get. Instead of trusting her instincts, perhaps she needed to put her trust in the people who loved her.

o o o

The crosshairs followed Rena as she turned to leave the commons, but they weren't positioned for a shot. They were centered on the ground at her feet in case of an unintentional discharge, although that was impossible. There was no round in the chamber, the safety was engaged, and Barrett's finger would never touch the trigger unless he intended to shoot, which he didn't. He was only using his rifle's scope to surveil the young woman who'd defended herself and her friends against muggers a few days ago.

After that incident, Barrett and his team had returned to headquarters to report their findings. Commander Ryce was impressed with Rena's instincts, but he was also the sort of man who looked beyond the obvious. That vigilance was what had kept him alive for this long. He wondered if Rena had been trained by OCON and was being used to attract Outlier attention. Could this be a new strategy to infiltrate the Outliers by getting an operative inside?

More surveillance was needed. And that's why Barrett watched Rena from an office in a two-story building across the street from the commons. He and his team had come up through a sewer pipe into the building's mechanical room. The business didn't open until 10:00 a.m., which meant that employees wouldn't arrive until shortly beforehand. That vacancy allowed Barrett's team members to spread out and establish sentry positions at each of the building's access points.

While they kept watch for anyone approaching the building, Barrett panned his scope across the commons, over the pond at its center, to an alley across the street from Rena's location. His crosshairs came to rest on a young man in the shadows. He was dressed in lightweight exercise clothing, like so many others in the area. But he hadn't come to exercise. He was also surveilling Rena.

This was the first time Barrett had seen one of OCON's young operatives, though he'd heard plenty about them. They were typically orphans who'd unknowingly participated in aptitude testing during their stay at an adoption agency. All their conversations and actions were monitored for specific criteria. If OCON liked what they saw, the child was recruited into a life unlike any other they would experience as a normal citizen.

And if this young man was any indication, OCON's training program was excellent. He was just close enough to observe Rena's movements and the citizens she came into contact with. But at that distance, dressed as he was, with the shadows to conceal him, he was invisible to Rena. And that was the primary goal of any operative—to be invisible.

If Barrett had been a citizen, he would have been fooled. But he was neither. He knew what to look for. He could spot an operative by what they paid attention to. They were alert to their surroundings, which was different from the casual distractedness of your typical citizen. That's how Barrett also knew there were a handful of other operatives in the commons, playing their parts as normal citizens. These others weren't watching Rena closely, which meant they were only present as support for the young operative in case something went wrong.

Barrett picked out a few of them with his scope. A middle-aged man sitting under a tree by the pond. An older woman walking along the path. OCON's surveillance of Rena seemed legitimate, but it could also be staged. To complete the illusion that she wasn't one of them.

_Who are you?_ Barrett wondered, as he swung the crosshairs near Rena's feet once again.

Perhaps OCON placed so many operatives in the area to find confirmation that the Outliers were taking the bait. It was impossible to know for sure, but Barrett and his team would never give them any such confirmation. Recon members were even better than operatives at hiding.

"We have a woman approaching along the sidewalk at the front of the building," said a team member through the communication device in Barrett's ear.

It was too early for an employee, but there was no reason to linger. Barrett had seen what he came for. "Let's move out," he replied, standing up and lifting his rifle from the desk.

"She's stopping at the front doors!"

Barret used his shirt sleeve to wipe down the surface of the desk. "Quick and quiet. No traces," he told them.

Fortunately, he and his team had removed their outerwear before exiting the mechanical room, per standard procedure, to reduce their chances of leaving evidence. When the desk was clean, he left the room and pulled the door shut as he'd found it.

"She's in the lobby," came another warning. "It must be the owner."

But Barret was already down the hall and entering the stairwell that would take him back to the mechanical room and the safety of the sewers.
010

After a full night's sleep, Rena got up early, showered, and put on the dress that she only wore on special occasions. Birthday parties. After-school events. There weren't many opportunities for her to dress up, and even fewer that she actually participated in.

_But I'm trying a new approach,_ she reminded herself.

When she walked down the hall and into the kitchen, the rest of her family was already at the table eating breakfast. They too were dressed up. It was Sunday morning, and Rena hadn't gone to Consensus with her family in over a year. She'd argued that weekends were her only opportunity to sleep in, and her parents decided not to force the issue. It defeated the whole point of agreement. Since then, their normal routine was to eat a quick breakfast and leave quietly. Rena usually woke up to an empty house.

"Rena?" Marshall set down his spoon, eyes wide with concern.

Everyone turned to stare.

"You look nice," Clarine said. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

Rena nodded. "Together... right?"

Clarine smiled.

"We have to leave in a few minutes," Marshall said. "Why don't you grab something to eat before we go?"

"OK." Rena already liked the feel of this new approach.

After breakfast, the family walked two blocks to the nearest transit station. Rena carried Suzanne the whole way so her mom could hold Gareth's hand, something Clarine didn't get to do as often as she liked. They passed dozens of other families along the way, all dressed up and heading to consensus like the Waites. It was strange and comforting at the same time to feel part of a larger movement. To Rena, it felt like walking to school in the morning, and in a way, that's what it was.

A school for all ages.

They had to wait ten minutes before the correct transit pod arrived at the station. Others came and went during that time, but they were the ones spiraling inward to the Center or outward from it. Rena's family could have taken one of these and ridden it for one revolution, getting off at a station about ten blocks inward, but it was faster to wait for one that ran through the radial tubes across the city.

Like the majority of the transit network, the switching station tubes were transparent. When the pod arrived, the sound of compressed air transitioned to a hum of electricity. One form of propulsion took over for the other as the pod diverted from the main tube and came alongside a moving walkway. The doors opened and only a few people stepped off. Then the waiting crowd moved quickly to fill up the pod before it reached the end of the loading/unloading zone. Fortunately, they all made it into the first pod.

_Or else the Waites would've had to wait,_ Rena thought with a grin. Dal would have made fun of her for such a lame joke.

Fifteen minutes later, Rena and her family stepped off the transit system and walked another block to the community hall, a one-story, concrete building. Their pace slowed as they merged with dozens of other families moving up the front walkway and into the building through numerous metal doors that were propped open.

The lobby was even more chaotic, as citizens spotted others they hadn't seen in a week. Whereas everyone had been walking in the same general direction outside, they scattered in a hundred different directions now, crossing each other's paths and bringing the flow to a standstill.

"There's Kirti," Clarine said, still holding tight to Gareth's hand.

"You should go say hello," Marshall suggested.

The two of them had come to a complete stop, and Rena almost tripped over them. The family behind her was forced to split into two groups to get around the Waites. Rena apologized to them before looking back to her parents. "That's OK. Let's keep moving."

"Are you sure?" Clarine asked.

"Yeah. I can always talk to her at school. Let's go."

Marshall looked disappointed. But he turned around without commenting. Clarine followed. Rena hiked Suzanne further up on her hip and sidestepped another family before catching up to her own just inside the doors to the main auditorium.

The room was large and circular, with a floor that sloped gently downward so each seat had an unobstructed view of the stage in the center. Marshall headed down one of the aisles, looking for five empty seats in a row. He found them halfway to the stage and motioned for his family to slide in and sit down.

Rena went first and took her seat. She tried to set Suzanne down in the chair beside her, but her sister refused to let go.

"Alright then, you can sit on my lap."

Suzanne buried her face in Rena's chest.

"It's nice to have you here with us," Clarine said, putting her arm around Rena and giving her a squeeze.

Rena smiled, but between Suzanne's clinging and Clarine's hug, she felt a bit claustrophobic.

A few minutes later, the noise in the auditorium quieted. The lights dimmed. A middle-aged man in a white suit walked onto the stage and stopped behind a slowly-rotating podium.

"Citizens. Welcome! It's great to see so many familiar faces this morning. And if you haven't noticed... quite a few new ones as well."

The audience laughed at this, though for what reason Rena couldn't guess.

"We are fuller than usual this morning, so if you wouldn't mind, please scoot in and fill up the empty seats in the middle. Let's make some room along the aisles for those still coming in."

The people next to Rena got up and moved over a few seats.

She stood again and shuffled over, trying to maintain her grip on Suzanne. The rest of her family followed. It took a moment for everyone in the auditorium to compress toward the middle, and then the noise quieted.

"Thank you so much," said the speaker. "I know you all value inclusion as much as I do, so I appreciate your patience."

Rena realized she hadn't left a seat open beside her. Now there was a stranger sitting on one side and Clarine on the other, with Suzanne on her lap. Rena must have looked panicked.

"I can take her on my lap," Clarine said.

Suzanne clung even harder.

"That's OK. I've got her." Rena smiled and took a deep breath.

"Every citizen knows the importance of voting," said the speaker, his amplified voice filling the auditorium. "Our laws depend upon our agreement. Our economy depends upon our participation. This morning, I'd like to talk about two aspects of voting that are often overlooked. To introduce these topics, I'll go straight to the source of our inspiration—which I believe is something all of us should be doing on a regular basis. One of our beloved Founders, Abigail McCormack, pioneered some of the very first algorithms governing our rating system. And in one of her early manifestos on social interactions, she had this to say..."

The speaker now looked down at the hologram of text hovering above his hand. The same quote also appeared in the air above his head, large enough to be read by the whole audience.

"For consensus to be an accurate representation of current humanity, and the method by which we become a truer version of ourselves in the future, requires two things—that it be frequent and informed."

"Hmm," Clarine mumbled, nodding her head.

"Frequent and informed," the speaker repeated. "Abigail goes on to explain these two requirements, but before that, notice how much is packed into this one sentence. Consensus is supposed to be an accurate representation of humanity's current state of knowledge. This is her assumption, right from the start. And yet, in our day, we tend to overlook this. We excuse ourselves from the responsibility of giving our input. Of participating. A responsibility to our fellow citizens. It's a foundational idea, and she mentions it in passing, as if this is already understood and acted upon."

A few people in the audience voiced their agreement.

"Furthermore, consensus is the method by which we, as humans, will become a truer version of ourselves. Again, there's an assumption here. This statement implies we are not currently the truest version of ourselves. But through our interactions and our agreement, we will continue evolving. Truth will emerge from within. And the process will continue into the future."

"That's right," Marshall whispered.

"Isn't this wonderful?" the speaker continued, motioning to the text floating above his head. "Even though she lived many generations before us, there was obviously something very special about Abigail... and all the Founders. You can see it in the way they communicated. They were able to look beyond themselves so effectively, that what they saw became the vision we aspire to. A goal that is still waiting for us in the future. Such insight!"

A round of applause went up from the crowd. Marshall and Clarine both clapped. Gareth was looking up at something on the ceiling, bored. Rena was grateful to have Suzanne on her lap. It prevented her from having to clap in agreement with everyone else. After all, her new approach didn't mean she'd blindly follow the crowd. Just that she wouldn't make an argument out of every small thing.

The text above the speaker's head updated with the next passage. The speaker looked down at his hand again and continued reading.

"Firstly, as an individual, I am prone to change my perspective. What I believed yesterday has been proven wrong to me today, and so on. Therefore, any valid vote should, by necessity, carry an expiration. For who among us can possibly see beyond what is right in this moment?"

The speaker paused to let the words sink in. When he continued, his voice was much quieter. "Our votes expire twenty-four hours after they're cast. This is part of the system's design. As you can see from Abigail's writing, the purpose behind it is to ensure our laws and our individual ratings stay current. You see, voting was never intended to be a one-time thing. Or even a once-a-week thing. Most of us will walk out of here today, and we'll go home and vote. But the sad reality is that tomorrow... we won't. And the day after? Well, we're too busy, right?"

Clarine nodded.

"I'm as guilty as anyone," the speaker continued. "Sometimes it feels like there aren't enough hours in the day for the things I have to do, let alone the things I'm supposed to do. But then I stop and ask, 'Who am I living for? Myself, or my fellow citizens?'"

"Hmm," Marshall mumbled.

The speaker walked to the edge of the raised platform. The room was silent, and when he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper. "The temptation to be an individual is always there. But we have to fight against it. We have to take those tendencies and channel them toward giving our individual perspectives to the whole. That's the only place where they have value."

The text updated again with the next passage, and the speaker kept reading.

"Secondly, and worse yet, I am prone to forget the reasons why I held a particular perspective in the first place. As an individual, I would prefer to make a determination and have that be the end of it. It is this lazy habit that others will keep us from falling into. Consensus forces us to remember, to reconsider, and to do so often."

Suzanne suddenly decided to climb into Clarine's lap. Rena was grateful for the relief, but the suffocating feeling persisted. Perhaps it wasn't caused by the crowd after all.

"What's implied in her words is that there is some level of consensus prior to voting. Agreement through education. And that is what we are here for today. To stay informed, or to become so if we are not already. So as we break up into groups, let us have open minds. Let us do as Abigail instructed. Remember how we have voted in the past. Reconsider our votes and the assumptions that brought us to them. Discuss these things with others and find agreement. Then we will be prepared to go out and vote. Not just today... but tomorrow and every day afterward. Frequent and informed. Thank you."
011

The audience gave a short round of applause for the speaker before getting up from their seats. The citizens at the edge of the seating area moved out of their aisles toward discussion booths, which had been set up around the perimeter of the auditorium.

"I'll take Suzanne to her class and meet you back in here," Clarine said.

Marshall grabbed Gareth's hand. "Alright. Which booth will you be at?"

"I've been thinking a lot about what Officers Dougherty and Naylor said the other night... about crime in the Outskirts."

Marshall glanced over to the law enforcement booth. "OK. I'll drop Gareth off and meet you there. Rena?"

"Yeah?"

"Instead of tagging along with us, I think it would be good for you to join the other young adults this time."

Rena bit her lip as she looked across the auditorium to where other citizens her age were heading through double doors. If she was going to start voting again, it made sense to get informed on the issues affecting her age group. But she felt like her chest was being crushed by an invisible force. She wished the doors led out to the Barrens. Then she'd have no problem walking through them. She'd even run.

"Come find us when you're done," Clarine added, leaving no room for discussion.

Rena watched her parents leave the aisle and make their way toward the hallway leading to the kids' area. Then she turned and walked the other direction, quickly finding herself surrounded by people her own age. She recognized some of them from school, though she didn't know their names. Others were complete strangers. This community hall served more than just her school district.

Once through the double doors, the crowd spread out into a large, square room, about a tenth the size of the main auditorium. The space was divided into a grid, with aisles between each booth. Rena wandered down the center aisle, casually inspecting the reading material floating above the Collective terminals at each one. Inside, chairs were arranged in circles. Some booths were already full and hosting lively discussions. The empty ones were easy to spot, because the adult discussion leaders stood near the aisle, trying to make eye contact with people passing by.

One man glanced at Rena's hand and apparently decided she wasn't rated well enough to be concerned about school curriculum. He didn't say a word to her.

"Hi there," said a young woman across the aisle.

Rena tried to look the other way. But she couldn't help noticing the woman's blonde hair, twisted into a double helix shape, hanging down to the back of her knees.

"Are you happy with the current selection of music on the Collective?"

Rena reluctantly made eye contact, not wanting to be rude. "I don't know."

"Well, did you know that there are thousands of talented musicians who can't make a living today because the industry is controlled by the votes of adults?"

Rena shook her head.

"Young people have the time to vote more often than adults, but your voices won't be heard unless—"

"No, thank you," Rena said, noticing that the woman's discussion area was an empty ring of chairs. She sped up and continued down the aisle, wishing Dal was at her side. Not only would his presence have been a convenient distraction, but he was one of the only people who understood Rena's aversion to conversations where the only goal was agreement. But Dal only came to consensus when his parents were available, which was almost never.

Rena wandered past one booth after another, each one representing some issue deemed appropriate for her age group—school dress codes, city-wide curfew, conversion rates, consequences associated with relationship associations in the system. They were all the same booths as before. In over a year of being absent, none of the topics had changed. None of the progress that the Founder lady had written of.

"Are you hungry?" asked a short, well-dressed man holding a tray of pastries.

Over his shoulder, Kirti was engaged in a heated discussion with another girl over something fashion-related. Rena shook her head and moved farther down the aisle.

What is the point of this if nothing ever changes?

It seemed like a waste of everyone's time to discuss the same topics over and over again. Especially when they just ended up voting with the average anyway. Rena wondered how often laws ever got overturned. Was there some metric within the system for how long a law had remained the same?

At the back of the room was a row of booths dedicated to larger social and political issues. Rena remembered it being vacant most of the time. To her surprise, there were actually a handful of kids speaking one-on-one with the adult leaders. It was still the least occupied place in the room, but the small indication of change was encouraging.

Before she realized what she was doing, Rena had drifted close to one of the conversations. And to her horror, she recognized Lukas as one of the students.

He turned his head.

Rena looked away, her eyes settling on the text floating above one of the terminals. Hundreds of layers of information sat atop one another, and the first one had something to do with the disparity of ratings between the segments of the city.

"Rena!"

It was too late now to pretend she hadn't noticed him. "Hi," she said with more kindness than she intended.

Lukas seemed happy to see her. "This is Dr. Kalmus. He used to teach at the university in Segment Eleven."

Rena shook the doctor's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Dr. Kalmus was only a few centimeters taller than Lukas but much wider. And his loose-fitting, brown suit made his girth even more pronounced. He had thick glasses and a receding hairline, with tight, dark curls that clung to the sides and back of his head.

"This is the one you told me about from your debate class?" he asked Lukas.

"Actually, it was social studies," Lukas replied.

Rena suddenly felt flushed. _Why was Lukas talking to_ anyone _about me? Does that mean something? What did he tell him?_ But the only thing she revealed on the outside was a polite smile.

"I guess a little debate is inevitable when you're speaking with an intelligent person," Lukas added.

Dr. Kalmus nodded.

_Intelligent? You said my argument was emotional!_ "Does that mean you'll be ready for another round tomorrow?" she asked, sounding perfectly composed.

Lukas squinted before the corner of his mouth turned up. "Absolutely."

His eyes seemed bluer than what should have been legal. It was impossible to look straight at them without being affected by their influence. Rena wondered how many citizens in Esh would agree that beautiful people should have to wear bags over their heads during debates. In the interest of fairness.

"Lukas and I were just discussing how each segment has its own subculture. Have you made any such observations?"

"I've never lived outside of Segment Three," she replied, realizing her response wasn't entirely true. Before her adoption, she'd apparently grown up in an orphanage in Segment Eight, but that was only what she'd been told. She couldn't remember being there until after the police had found her in a dumpster and had taken her back.

"Oh... well, we could always discuss something else. Do you have any questions? Anything you're interested in learning about?"

Rena shrugged. She always had questions, but most people didn't want to talk about the things that interested her.

"Aren't you deeply concerned about how the current fashion trends will be reflected in the school dress code?" Lukas asked with a grin.

Rena glanced down at her dress. _What's that supposed to mean? Is he insulting me? Does he think I don't care about how I look, or is that his attempt at humor?_ "No, I'm not," she answered, looking up again. "That subject is well represented by people with more credits than me."

Lukas's eyes went to his rating.

She hoped she'd made him feel self-conscious about how high it was.

"What did you think of the message today?" Dr. Kalmus asked, turning his attention back to Lukas. He'd obviously given up trying to pull Rena into a conversation.

"I always enjoy reading from the Founders. Their writings are so..."

"Complex?"

"I was going to say precise."

"Ah," Dr. Kalmus said, nodding. "Yes. It's a shame they're losing votes. A few of the more obscure works are difficult to find on the Collective. It seems that citizens don't value them the way they used to."

"Or they don't have the capacity to understand the concepts."

Rena smiled. If these two were actually interested in having a discussion, why not discuss the obvious contradiction? "Yeah... I _do_ have a question about that."

Dr. Kalmus adjusted his glasses. "Please."

"If the goal is to continually improve ourselves, as Abigail McCormack said, then why are we so concerned with preserving her writings?"

Dr. Kalmus tilted his head.

"They're losing votes, which means that citizens are no longer interested in what the Founders had to say. And if agreement is truth," Rena said, motioning to Lukas, "then we should be happy about it. We're discovering the truth of their irrelevancy."

Lukas shook his head.

"Well," Dr. Kalmus replied, "I don't know that I've ever heard it put that way."

"You mean, so offensively?" Lukas added.

Rena held up her hands. "I'm not saying I necessarily agree or disagree with the Founders. I'm just asking a question. It seems like a contradiction to me, to say truth is something that emerges from our agreement, and then to have a problem with what's currently emerging."

"I see what you mean," Dr. Kalmus replied. "Perhaps it would be beneficial to think of it in another way. The writings encapsulate the Founders' original vision. Without this basis of understanding, truth will not emerge from our consensus."

Lukas nodded. "When I said agreement is truth, I was assuming an agreement that included the perspectives of the Founders. Not something completely separated from them."

"We must think of the Founders as being alive today, participating in the discussion," Dr. Kalmus added. "If their input is removed from the conversation, we will lack an essential ingredient in discovering truth. And that is what is happening."

"Exactly," Lukas said.

Rena smiled as she saw another hole in their logic. But she decided to save her argument for another time. "That's a great explanation, Dr. Kalmus. I'll have to think about what you said."

"Thank you, Rena. And yes, please do give it some thought. I'll be interested to hear what other questions occur to you by next Sunday."

"Oh yeah," Lukas said. "I guess it _is_ time to go."

Rena looked around and realized the other young adults were making their way out of the room. Her time was already up, and she wasn't sure if her questions had been interpreted as honest curiosity or just plain hostility. This discussion could have a negative impact on her rating.

"Don't forget to vote this week," said Dr. Kalmus. "There's a lot of information on the Collective, but if it seems overwhelming, just pick one issue. Or perhaps one per day. The key is to be consistent. Over time, you'll find yourself better informed and caring about more and more issues. Voting will become a habit, and then it won't require so much work. That's what I do."

"Thanks, Dr. Kalmus. I'll try that. And it's been a pleasure meeting you. I'll see you next week," Rena said, as politely as possible. Then she turned and left, melding in quickly with the other students in case Lukas decided to join her. Before this meeting, she wouldn't have even considered that a possibility. Now, she didn't know what to think.

o

Rena's parents had already picked up Gareth and Suzanne by the time Rena found them in the main auditorium next to an adoption discussion booth. Marshall was holding Gareth's hand and finishing up a conversation with the discussion leader. Clarine was carrying Suzanne on her hip.

"How did it go?" Clarine asked as Rena walked up.

"Good."

"Did you talk to Kirti?"

"No. She was in a discussion when I got there. But I saw a new student from my school."

"That's great. What's her name?"

" _His_ name is Lukas."

Clarine's eyebrows rose. "Oh."

"We talked with a former university professor about the writings of Abigail McCormack," Rena quickly added.

The look of surprise faded from Clarine's face. Then she put an arm around Rena's shoulders and gave her a squeeze. "I'm so happy you came with us."

"Me too."

Suzanne reached for her sister, and Rena took her from Clarine.

"I'll 'verse you tomorrow and we can schedule a visit," Marshall said, shaking the discussion leader's hand before turning around to join his family.

"What was that about?" asked Clarine.

"I might be able to do some consulting work for his agency. We'll meet next week and see if there's anything I can do for them."

"That's great."

Marshall smiled before his eyes settled on Rena. "How did it go?"

"She met a young man from her school," Clarine said before Rena had a chance.

Marshall's eyes narrowed. "What's he rated?"

The question was irritating. It revealed what was most important to Marshall, but Rena reminded herself that she was trying a different approach. "Um... twenty-five. I think." _Not that it reflects anything about his character._

Marshall was visibly relieved. No doubt he was thinking about Dal and hoping Rena's choice in male friends was finally improving. "Well, I'm glad you're participating."

"I'm hungry," Gareth said, tugging on Marshall's hand.

The statement was enough to end Rena's interrogation, and she was grateful when her family began heading for the exit. Before they reached the front doors of the community hall, Marshall stopped by a row of terminals lined up along the wall. It was where citizens made their donations. Rena suddenly realized how big this building was. With all its chairs and lights and equipment, and the number of booths and discussion leaders, it must be expensive to run, regardless of how plain its furnishings were.

Marshall touched a holographic button, and the rating on his hand dropped from 044 to 042.

He'd worked hard to get his number back into the forties after the police report, and Rena couldn't believe how much he had donated. "Dad... that's too much!"

Clarine put her hand on Rena's shoulder. "It's OK. You don't need to—"

"No, it's too much. You both work so hard, and..."

"Rena, let us worry about that. We're the adults."

"... and my counseling is expensive," Rena finished.

Marshall turned away from the terminal with a wrinkled brow. "I appreciate that you're concerned, Rena. It shows me you're thinking about the consequences of your actions. That's a step in the right direction. But the purpose of life isn't just to save your credits. You have to support the things you believe in."

Rena handed Suzanne back to Clarine. "I know, but..."

"This community hall provides a service," Marshall added. "This is where we come to discuss issues and get informed. It takes money to run this service, and if people don't give, they'd have to close the place down."

Rena couldn't stand the thought of her parents sacrificing so much, and the more she thought about it, the more it seemed like they were being taken advantage of. They were made to feel guilty if they didn't give away their credits. All of a sudden, Rena's mouth was open and an argument was spilling out before she could control it.

"If they closed for lack of support, wouldn't that mean a consensus was reached? Wouldn't that be a good thing—the truth about its obsolescence was finally determined?"

"Rena Waite!" Clarine replied.

Marshall's face transformed from one of fatherly concern to one of disgust. "You know, Rena, sometimes your way of thinking really bothers me. You're twisting the concept of truth. I don't want to talk about this anymore. We're leaving. Let's go!"

Clarine followed Marshall out the front doors.

Rena hung back for a moment and watched them go. She felt terrible about upsetting them, but she couldn't help the thoughts that came into her head. Sometimes they wouldn't stay there. They forced their way out like escaping prisoners. Why couldn't anyone else see these contradictions? Maybe if some other citizen were bringing up these arguments, Rena wouldn't have to.
012

The trip home was awkward for Rena, and lunch with her family was filled with long periods of silence. Clarine attempted to start several conversations. Marshall had a hard time pretending he wasn't still upset. Afterward, Rena took a walk around her neighborhood to clear her mind. Then she spent the early afternoon playing with Gareth and Suzanne. By late afternoon, the mood in her house seemed to have improved. Rena's parents began acting normal again, and Rena remembered that she was supposed to be trying a different approach. Instead of wasting her weekend, she should be voting like other responsible young adults.

"Mom, where's the ex?" she called to the kitchen.

"It should be charging in the office."

Rena pushed herself up from the living room floor, where she'd been coloring a picture with Gareth. "Can you finish my part?"

"Yeah," Gareth said, grabbing the marker Rena had been using.

Rena walked down the hall, turning into Marshall's office. Fortunately, it was empty. Marshall was helping Clarine in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. It would be best if Rena could avoid any significant conversations for the rest of the day. If she didn't talk, she couldn't say anything upsetting.

The exterminal was on Marshall's desk, sitting on its charging pad where Clarine said it would be. There were only two exterminals in the house—the one embedded into the surface of Marshall's desk and the portable one Rena and Clarine used. It was a small rectangle of glass, with rounded edges, no bigger than the palm of her hand. She grabbed it and headed straight for her room, closing her door for privacy.

She sat down on her bed and placed the exterminal on her nightstand. As she touched the power button, she noticed her rating had dropped to 011 again. Sunday afternoon was the most active voting time of the week. The majority of Esh's citizens were home from consensus and freshly motivated to make an impact on society. If they weren't working or attending school, their voting was what allowed them to maintain or improve their ratings. Rena often skipped this duty. It wasn't until the middle of the school week that her number usually recovered.

The surface of the exterminal began to glow. The holographic interface for the Collective appeared in the air above it—a soft, blue image of concentric circles and intersecting radial lines that called to mind both Esh's layout and the way in which citizens were all connected to each other.

"Hello, Rena. How may I help you?" asked a deep, soothing voice. The verbal interface was one of Rena's preferences that she'd set up years ago, as well as its tone. She'd chosen one that sounded like the man from her visions. It made her feel safe.

"I would like to vote," she answered.

"Here is your voting history," said the voice at the same time as a list of topics appeared.

She preferred the text listings over icons or images because they were easier to review when there was a lot of information. Although in Rena's case, there weren't many entries. She didn't vote on enough issues to make reviewing data difficult. The only entries were her associations and a few older topics from months ago.

"Would you like to review any of these topics?"

"Yes. Associations," she said.

The list updated to show the names of her family members, her friends, and Dr. Mallory, who was her only professional association.

"Which association would you like to review?"

"Marshall, Clarine, Gareth, Suzanne, Dal, and Dr. Mallory."

"How would you like to rate these associations?"

"Positive," Rena answered.

"Thank you for your participation," said the voice. The names disappeared from the list, inaccessible for the next twenty-four hours.

Rena stared at the remaining name—Kirti Vasu. The orange text indicated that Kirti had already deleted her _friend_ association to Rena. But there were two sides to every association in the system, and Rena could choose to keep hers if she wanted to continue rating Kirti... negatively or positively. It was an aspect of the system that encouraged citizens to settle their disputes, and to do so in person.

"Would you like to rate this association?"

"No. Delete Kirti."

"This association has been deleted." The name disappeared. Then the voting history reappeared. "Which topic would you like to review?"

Rena scanned the list and settled on one near the top. "Adoption."

The adoption topic opened to another list of choices—agencies, personnel, pros and cons, and statistics.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"Agencies," she answered.

Another list appeared—by segment, by specialty, pros and cons, and statistics.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"By segment."

Twelve entries appeared, one for each of Esh's major sections.

"Which—"

"Segment Eight," Rena instructed.

A list of letters from A to D appeared, one for each of the four adoption agencies in Segment Eight.

"Agency C." It was where she'd lived before Marshall and Clarine found her.

The list updated again to show the choices of facility, personnel, process, and statistics.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

This time Rena hesitated long enough for the voice interface to repeat its question in full. She stared at the list, not feeling particularly interested in any of the choices. This was one of the reasons why she didn't pay much attention to the constant and numerous recommendations to get informed. Teachers always wanted her to have an opinion about things that didn't matter to her.

How can any citizen possibly care about everything?

This was probably why Dr. Kalmus advised her to pick just one topic.

"Would you like more information on one of these topics?" asked the voice.

"No," Rena answered, glancing up at the ceiling. She remembered what it had been like inside the agency after the police had taken her there. Sleeping in a large room with so many other children. "Facility."

The list updated to the topics of interior and exterior.

"Interior."

Within the interior facility topics were the choices of design and furnishings, electrical, heating and cooling, lighting, and plumbing.

Rena took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips.

This is monotonous! Why do there have to be so many choices?

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"Design and furnishings," she answered. Then she made the next two selections quickly, before the voice had a chance to say anything. "Statistics. Rating."

Finally, she'd drilled down far enough through the topics to locate some actual information. It appeared the facility for agency 8D had a 62% positive rating of its interior design and furnishings. That seemed higher than Rena remembered, but it had been a long time since she'd viewed this information.

"Would you like to refine this rating by the following criteria?"

The information updated to show more choices—by age group, by residence, and by occupation.

"No," Rena answered. She didn't care how the agency's rating differed within those categories. "Go back to design and furnishings. Vote."

"How would you like to rate this agency's design and furnishings?"

Rena remembered the sleeping room as being dark and scary, but the average was higher now. Maybe they had made improvements? "Positive."

"Thank you for your participation."

Rena looked at her hand. It still read 011. With so many people voting, she'd have to make quicker selections if she wanted to do better than just maintain her number. "Go back to Adoption."

The list updated to the higher-level information she'd viewed earlier.

"Pros and Cons."

The next round of choices appeared. Pros—helping children, helping birth mothers, helping adoptive families. Cons—long and challenging process, credits and emotional costs, challenging children.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

Rena rubbed her eyes. Her vision was starting to blur from the overwhelming amount of information. _No one has the capacity for all of this! How am I supposed to stay informed on the things I care about, let alone everything else?_

"Would you like more information on one of these topics?" asked the voice.

"Rena. Time for dinner," came Clarine's muffled voice from the kitchen.

"OK," Rena yelled back. Apparently she had been at this for much longer than she thought.

"On which topic would you like more information?" asked the voice.

"No. I wasn't talking to you," Rena said.

"I do not understand your request."

Rena let out another quick exhale. _How can I do this more efficiently?_

"Would you like more information on one of these topics?" asked the voice again.

"Open all adoption topics and subtopic statistics."

The information became a long list of topics with percentages at the end of each one.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"Select all topics," Rena tried.

"I do not understand your request. Which topic would you—"

"Vote all positive."

"I am unable to fulfill your request, because the pros and cons for each topic have not been reviewed. Which pros and cons would you like—"

"Switch to manual input method," Rena said.

The information list was suddenly populated with holographic buttons next to the ratings of each topic. She went down the list, looking only at the percentages. If they were above 50%, she pressed the thumbs-up button. If below, she pressed the thumbs-down.

"Rena! Dinner is on the table!" yelled Marshall.

"Coming."

She'd only managed to get through about fifteen votes, but she could always pick this up again after dinner. She reached out and pressed the power button, shutting down her connection to the Collective. The rating on the back of her hand was now 012.

o

Suzanne was crying from somewhere far away. There were other voices too. And footsteps. All muffled. It took every bit of Rena's strength to open her eyes. She was in her bedroom, lying facedown on her bed.

013.

That was the number on the hand in front of her face. It was significant somehow, but she couldn't think why.

"Rena, you're going to be late," Clarine said as her footsteps retreated down the hall outside her door.

Rena pushed herself up to a seated position and rubbed her eyes.

More footsteps sounded, but this time they were approaching, followed by a knock at the door. "Rena?"

"I'm up," she mumbled.

The door opened and Clarine peeked her head in. "Honey, you're going to be late for school."

"OK. I just..." she began, running her fingers through her hair.

Clarine suddenly inhaled. "Your number!"

"What?" Rena's heart lurched, fatigue giving way to panic. Then she looked at her hand again. "Oh... yeah."

"Is that why you're so tired?"

The thumping in her chest was slowing down. "I was up late, voting."

Clarine smiled and leaned on the doorway.

"What's going on?" asked Marshall from behind her. A second later, his head came into view. He was dressed for work and holding a cup of coffee.

"Rena's back up to thirteen."

Marshall stepped closer and opened Rena's door all the way. "That was fast. What were you voting on?"

"Adoption."

Marshall smiled as his eyes drifted to the exterminal on her nightstand. "It's great to see you applying yourself, but don't be late for school or it won't matter."

"You don't want to waste all that hard work," Clarine added.

"OK."

Marshall and Clarine backed out of the room and shut the door.

Rena climbed out of her bed and went to her closet. As she changed out of her pajamas, her body moving sluggishly, she realized this was the first weekend in months when she hadn't gone out to the Barrens. Or even the Outskirts. Those fog-covered fields usually captured her imagination and made her wonder about what was beyond them. And wandering through the old buildings made her think about the past. Time seemed to stand still when she was out there on the edge of the city. Perhaps that was why this weekend had passed so quickly. There had been no time to let her mind wander. No time to think about anything but the present.

When she was dressed and ready for school, Rena grabbed the exterminal off her nightstand and walked down the hall to her dad's office. Marshall was sitting at his desk, reviewing some images of a factory on the Collective. She set the exterminal back on its charging pad and turned to leave, but the factory images reminded her of the Outskirts, and she felt a question stirring in her mind. She hesitated to ask it. Her questions had a way of ruining things. But this one wasn't like the others. It wasn't the start of an argument, or a critical observation of society. It came from a simple, honest curiosity.

"Dad?"

"Huh?"

"When was Esh built?"

Marshall turned around in his chair and shrugged. "A long time ago. Why?"

"Decades, or centuries?"

He set down his coffee mug. "I don't know... exactly. But you could look it up on the Collective."

"OK." Rena nodded and was about to leave again when another question popped into her head. "And how big is the city?"

Marshall's lips flattened into a strange expression he often made when pondering something. "I think we're just over two and a half million citizens... but I haven't checked the—"

"No. I mean... size."

"Like square kilometers?"

"Yeah."

Marshall shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure. But you could look that up too. Are you interested in civil operations?"

Rena wasn't thinking in terms of Esh's layout or construction as much as its history, but she nodded anyway.

"Oh, that reminds me..." Clarine said from the kitchen across the hall. "Your father and I are going to an adoption meeting at the community hall on Wednesday night, so you'll be on your own for dinner."

"That's fine."

Marshall crossed his arms, but the look in his eyes wasn't suspicious. It was something else that Rena couldn't place. "You know, community halls all across the city host discussions every weeknight. If you're interested, I could check the schedules and find out if there's one on civil operations?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Marshall smiled. "I know... I said I didn't want you going out on weeknights anymore. But if it's for a good cause, I'm willing to make an exception. You can go after your sessions with Dr. Mallory."

Rena nodded. "Thanks, Dad."
013

The forest was quiet. So quiet that Rena's careful steps seemed loud against the damp earth. So quiet she could hear herself breathing. Each exhale drifted away from her mouth in a thin, white cloud. The air was cold, but her supple, leather clothing held in her warmth and a layer of perspiration.

Somewhere ahead, through the morning fog and dense trees, a deer wandered. Rena had caught a glimpse of it a short while ago. It had been moving casually, unaware that it was being stalked. And if Rena had done exactly as she'd been taught, it would still be moving at the same pace and in the same direction. When it reached the clearing, it would stop, hesitant to move through the open space. That was the moment Rena was going to exploit.

Her father was approaching from a different direction, in case the deer decided not to cross the field and instead move along the edge of the trees.

The forest began to thin. An indication that the clearing was nearby. Rena pulled an arrow from the quiver at her back and set it into the notch in her bow. With a finger on either side of the nock, she tugged until the bowstring snapped into place.

Though she couldn't see the deer, she knew the moment had come. Her heart was racing in anticipation. She scanned the horizon, looking into the sunrise for a silhouette that was different from the narrow, vertical tree trunks.

The light suddenly dimmed and changed direction. Fog swam in through the trees and enveloped her. The aroma of pine was displaced by an older, musty stench. Rena looked down and saw rotting leaves where pine needles used to be. And instead of her tan boots of animal hide, there were black boots of a synthetic material. Above that, camouflaged pants with square splotches of black, gray, and mossy green. The wooden bow she'd been holding was now a black, metal carbine fitted with a suppressor.

The excitement of the hunt that had sped her heart rate a moment ago was now something else. Colder. More calculating. Adrenaline coursed through her body. A body that felt more powerful and agile than before. The confusion that had been creeping in from the edges of her mind was gone. In its place was a clear and distinct resolution. Her prey was near. Revenge was at hand, and she had to move.

Rena stalked forward, weaving through the thick, gnarled trees with precise steps. The forest was growing thinner. The sky brighter. The clearing was close. She could feel it. Her eyes scanned the terrain, taking in the smallest of details—a cluster of brush, a broken branch, the upended root ball of a fallen tree. Dozens of observations noted, evaluated, and rejected in an instant. She'd been trained for this. Done it hundreds of times before.

Ahead, the fog began to clear. The breeze moved more easily across the open field below than up here in the trees. It left the convoys exposed. That was why the enemy sniper had chosen this position. Elevated. Concealed. Protected.

Or so he thought.

Rena's eyes settled on a large clump of moss and weeds, two meters behind a leafless thicket. It looked natural except for the thin cylinder sticking a few centimeters out the opposite side. Rena was twenty meters behind the sniper and three to the right.

She raised her weapon and took aim.

A section of the weeds turned. Strands of moss hung down over a painted face. The eyes were now looking straight at Rena. But they weren't human. They were large and black, with a narrow band of golden brown around the perimeter. And the painted face was now long, covered in tan hair.

Rena's arms began to tremble from the exertion of holding the bowstring taut.

The slight movement alarmed the deer, and it sprang into motion.

Rena pivoted, first matching the animal's speed, then leading it to account for the delay between release and impact. All traces of hesitation were gone. She was operating on instinct.

She opened her fingers.

The bowstring made a low, breathy _twang_.

The fletching of her arrow spun as it shrank from view.

The deer's legs went limp, and its body dropped to the ground before rolling over and sliding to a stop.

The forest went silent again. So silent Rena could hear her own breathing, more rapid than before.

She raised her fingers to her mouth and let out a whistle that echoed through the trees. A signal to indicate her position and also that she'd fired on the deer. Seconds later, another whistle sounded. An acknowledgment.

Rena quickly nocked another arrow and sprang forward. When she reached the deer, she circled around to its back and approached it from the side opposite its legs. The arrow was sticking up from its body, just behind the shoulder. She'd taken it in the heart. There were no signs of chest movement from breathing. No blinking eyes or quivering muscles. But her father had taught her to be careful.

She knelt and touched the animal's eye.

There was no reaction.

She slid the unused arrow back into her quiver. Then she laid her hand on the deer's body. It was still warm.

The sound of running footsteps brought her attention upward again. A tall man came through the trees, slowing as he neared. Like Rena, he was also clad in soft, tan leather. He had Rena's face and eyes, except for his nose, which was long and narrow. And instead of dark brown hair, his was silver, covering his head in finger-length strands and his face with stubble. Eldric was his name. Rena's father.

"Hey, Chipmunk. You got him!"

Rena smiled.

"And a perfect shot too. Well done!"

Eldric knelt beside Rena and put his hand on the deer, verifying it was dead. Then he glanced around the forest. "This is as good a place as any. Here," he said, pulling a knife from the sheath on his belt.

The blade was elegantly curved and razor sharp, with a handle made from a deer antler.

Rena took the skinning tool and held it for a moment, feeling the weight of it while her father rolled the deer onto its back and spread its legs. She reached out and slid her fingers through the animal's hair, probing for its sternum. A place to make the first incision without puncturing the internal organs. When she found it, she moved the knife into position.

"Your skin for my clothing," she told the animal. "Your meat for my food. And your bones for my tools. Thank you for your life."

The tip of the blade lingered. Rena hesitated.

"This is how we used to live," her father said. His voice was kind. When he placed his hand on Rena's shoulder, it was gentle. Warm.

Rena looked up.

His eyes were full of love. He was teaching her something incredibly important. "If you're not ready... I'll do it."

"No. It's my responsibility. I'm ready," she said.

But when she looked down again, there was already blood on her hands. The knife in her grip wasn't elegant. It was crude and rusted. A sharpened piece of scrap metal with cord wrapped around it for a handle. And the deer was gone. Instead, there was a man on his hands and knees, dressed in thick, dirty clothing. On the back of his right hand was a glowing number.

002.

Blood gushed from his wrist.

Rena dropped the knife and let out a gasp of surprise as she stumbled backward.

The man realized what Rena had just done to him, and he turned his head to look her in the eye. "I'm gonna kill you," he grunted. Then he began climbing to his feet.

Panic spread through Rena's chest like fire and grabbed hold of her throat. Her heart thumped so powerfully it threatened to break through her ribs. She couldn't breathe.

"And now... you're back with me," said Dr. Mallory, her voice calm and soothing. The vocal signal was followed by the sound of snapping fingers. And Rena found herself in her counselor's office once again.

### HOW YOU CAN HELP

Word-of-mouth is crucial for any author to succeed. If you enjoyed this story, please consider telling others about it and leaving a review on the website where you downloaded it. Your help is greatly appreciated!
ALSO AVAILABLE BY JASON TESAR

THE AWAKENED SERIES

Awaken His Eyes | Book 1

Paths of Destruction | Book 2

Hands to Make War | Book 3

Combined Edition | Books 1-3

Seeds of Corruption | Book 4

Hidden from Men | Book 5

Foundations of the World | Book 6

Combined Edition | Books 4-6

WANDERING STARS SERIES

Incarnation | Volume 1

Manifestation | Volume 2

Inhabitation | Volume 3

Regeneration | Volume 4

The Making of Incarnation | A Reader's Companion

CONSENSUS

Citizen | Part 1

Delusion | Part 2

Outlier | Part 3

Renegade | Part 4

Truth | Part 5

OTHER STORIES

Emit (a short story)
ABOUT THE AUTHOR

The third of four children and an introvert from the start, Jason Tesar grew up as an imaginative "middle child" who enjoyed the make-believe world as much as the real one, possibly more. From adolescence to adulthood, his imagination fed itself on a diet of books, movies, and art, all the while growing and maturing—waiting for its opportunity.

In late 1998, Jason made his first attempt at writing, managing to complete a whole scene before returning once again to reality. A year and a half later, a spontaneous nighttime conversation with his wife encouraged him to take his writing seriously and to keep on dreaming. Over the next seven years, Jason carved time out of the real world to live in an imaginary one of epic fantasy, science-fiction, and military & political conflict. The fruits of this labor would later become the first three books of the bestselling AWAKENED series.

Due to the incredible support of readers from around the world, Jason continued his trajectory into make-believe, jumping from stable employment in the microelectronics industry into the mysterious abyss of fiction writing.

Living in Colorado with his beautiful wife and two children, Jason now spends the majority of his time fusing the best parts of his favorite genres into stories of internal struggle and triumph, friendship, betrayal, political alliances, and military conflict.

__________

If you'd like to follow along on Jason's journey or get behind the scenes info on his fictional work, visit www.jasontesar.com and sign up for his email list (http://eepurl.com/-PPGX).

If you'd like to connect with Jason, you can do so at any of the following sites, or send him an email at jasontesar@yahoo.com.

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GLOSSARY

Abigail McCormack

One of the Founders, responsible for developing some of the first algorithms of Esh's rating system.

Canopy

A curved structure that extends over Esh to protect it from the environment. It is anchored to the ground in several places along its perimeter and is supported by a single column at the center. It consists of a metal framework, with semitransparent panels that function as optical filters to clarify the incoming sunlight. Attached to the framework at regular intervals are machines for warming and dehumidifying outside air before pumping it through exhaust vents into the city. The framework is also designed to collect rainwater and channel it to processing centers throughout the city for use in homes and businesses.

Canopyscraper

A tall building, most often found at the Center of Esh. Despite the term, no building is tall enough to actually touch the Canopy.

Center

The central part of the city, known for its wealth and technology. The Center is where the Founders' concepts are the most fully accepted and implemented.

Clarine Waite

Rena's adoptive mother. A logistics supervisor at a food distribution center and a model lower-middlerate citizen.

Collective

The holographic information system used by all citizens of Esh. Designed to be a collective mind of useful information. New and existing content requires votes in order to remain relevant and accessible. Irrelevant information is deleted from the system.

Commons

Green spaces located throughout the city, designated for recreational use and shared by all citizens.

Community Hall

The place where citizens go to attend consensus and become informed on voting issues. Community halls and the staff who run them are supported by citizen donations. There are numerous halls located in each city segment.

Consensus

A weekly gathering of citizens, where they inform one another about social issues and inspire each other to vote.

Dalyn (Dal) Rigby

Rena's first and best friend who lives down the street from the Waites. Seventeen years old. Male. Goes by _Dal_.

Eldric

Rena's father.

Esh

A city of approximately two and a half million citizens. Circular in shape and organized into twelve segments. The wealthiest area is at the Center, where the most advanced technologies are utilized to bring citizens together in a communal, urban existence. As one moves away from the Center, society becomes more suburban, low-tech, and individualistic.

Exterminal

A device for accessing the Collective. A terminal that is external to a citizen's body, intended for multiple users.

Founders

The group of scientists and engineers who created Esh and the rating system that is the basis of society.

**Gareth Wait** e

Rena's adopted brother. Five years old.

Hutton (Mrs.)

Rena's communications teacher.

Interminal

A device for accessing the Collective. A terminal that is internal to a citizen's body, intended for a single user.

Jandreau (Mr.)

Principal of Rena's school.

John Barrett

Leader of an Outlier recon team.

Kalmus (Dr.)

A university professor from Segment Eleven. One of the discussion leaders for the young adults at Rena's consensus meeting hall.

Kirti Vasu

Rena's friend who lives closer to the Center. Female. Sixteen years old.

Lowrate, Lower-Middlerate, Highrate

Slang terms for classes of citizens, based on where they are positioned within Esh's rating system.

Lukas Kagan

A young OCON operative assigned to spy on Rena. Male. Seventeen years old. Orphaned by Outlier radicals. Later adopted by OCON and raised as a ward of the city.

Lyn Mallory (Dr.)

Rena's counselor.

Marshall Waite

Rena's adoptive father. An efficiency consultant and a model lower-middlerate citizen.

Nadia Prall

A former Outlier who, at the age of four, wandered into the Outskirts of Segment Six. She had no implant, indicating that she had been born outside of Esh instead of removing herself from society as other Outliers. Her presence highlighted the need for a method by which Outliers could reenter society if they chose to do so. Ms. Prall later became a productive member of society and the poster child of the Reentry process.

OCON

OCON is an acronym for Outlier Control, a classified intelligence and para-military organization created by the Founders to protect the citizens of Esh from Outliers.

Operatives

Agents of OCON. They live within society as normal citizens, conducting a variety of political, economic, and military operations to maintain social order.

Outliers

Former citizens of Esh who have removed themselves from society and its rating system.

Rating

A three-digit number, displayed on the back of the right hand by way of a subdermal, flexible LED array. A citizen's rating is his/her percentage of value (from 000 to 100), relative to the rest of society. Also referred to as one's _number_.

Reentry

The process by which an Outlier may reenter society. It involves legally establishing one's identity and undergoing surgery to install an implant that connects them to the rating system.

Rena Waite

Adopted daughter of Marshall and Clarine Waite. Adopted sibling of Gareth and Suzanne Waite. Sixteen years old.

Ryce

The commander of the Outlier military. Referred to as _Commander Ryce_.

Suzanne Waite

Rena's adopted sister. Two years old.

Terrell

The director of OCON. Referred to as _Director Terrell_.

Transit

The public transportation system of Esh. It is comprised of an above-ground network of tubes, through which pods—filled with citizens—are propelled at very high speeds. There are twelve curving lines, arranged in concentric rings spiraling out from the Center. In addition are twelve straight lines radiating from the Center to the Outskirts. At each intersection are switching stations providing access to the transit system. Also referred to as _transit stations_. From there, citizens can pay for a cab ride, but most aren't willing to spend the credits.

' **verse**

Short for _converse_. A holographic messaging system used to communicate remotely with other citizens. Also used as a verb.

Voting

The act of rating a product, service, personal or business interaction, or any other part of Esh's society. The average of all current votes determines the rating or number of that thing, as well as the laws of Esh. Votes expire after twenty-four hours, ensuring that all ratings stay current.

Yan (Mr.)

Rena's social studies teacher.
Fourshadow Publishing

Copyright © 2015 by Jason Tesar

Cover and interior design by Jason Tesar

_Consensus: Part 1 - Citizen_ is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.

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