Reaping (25 page)

“And my mother was killed when the Sector attacked us and bombed our home in the Wilds,” Remy says. I can hear the quaver in her voice, but she doesn’t break.

“There’s more,” Bear says, reclaiming control of the conversation. “You’ve heard from Vale, Remy, and Eli what the Sector’s lied about, who they’ve killed, but it goes deeper than that. The food we eat here at Round Barn does more than just make us strong and healthy to work. It also makes it harder for us to think, to ask questions, like Sam did. Like Rose does now.”

“What does that mean?” Luis asks, now skeptical again.

“Were any of you sent to schools in other quadrants when you were little?”

“I was,” a woman pipes up. “One of the teachers here thought I was good at math, so they sent me to a school in quadrant four.”

“How long did you last?”

“I was there about three years thereabouts before I asked to be transferred back. I liked it better here. More time to play and have fun. And I like being outadoors.”

“Did you notice anything different when you got back?”

“No, back to the same fun and games,” she says, and there’s a few laughs around the room.

“Well, I went, too, but I did notice something when I got back.” Bear says. “When I was five, I was sent to a nice school in one of the factory towns. They thought I was good at language and spatial imaging, that I might be good at art, like Remy. When I got there, I suddenly started seeing things in colors—”

“We all see things in colors, Bear,” Luis says, and this time there’s quite a few laughs around the group. Bear smiles sheepishly.

“But do you smell in colors?” he asks, and that question sends a hush around the group. “Do you feel things in colors? When I was at their school, one of my teachers spoke in a voice that sounded the same way storm clouds look. A friend in school gave me a feeling as deep amber as good whiskey—”

“Now, what’s a boy like you know about good whiskey?” a man at the back says, and there’s another round of laughter.

“I didn’t know it then, ya see, but I know about whiskey, now. Point is, I could feel and smell and taste things I’d only previously been able to see.”

“It’s called synaesthesia,” Remy says. “I experienced it, too, when I was eating Sector MealPaks. The Dieticians put special chemicals in the MealPaks of people who are artists to enhance their ability to paint or describe the world around them.”

“But that’s a good thing, isn’t it?” Luis says. “You make it sound like what the Dieticians do is bad.”

“Wait a minute,” the woman who’d also been to a quadrant school speaks up again. “Seems like there was a difference when I got back home. I couldn’t read as fast, or do math in my head like I had been able to before, when I was at the other school. But I didn’t care back then. I didn’t like it in town. I wanted to go home and they let me. Didn’t give it another thought after that.”

I note that Rose was right about this group: they have more of a sense of self, an ability to question, to think critically, than I’d expected based on what Bear told us of the Farms.

“That’s just it,” Bear says. “I did care. Experiencing the world the way I did at school was fantastic. I loved it. But when they decided I wasn’t good enough to go to that school anymore and sent me back here, they took me off those drugs and I didn’t get to taste or smell those colors anmore. It wasn’t my choice—it was theirs. I didn’t know why that happened until I was much older, and I met Remy here.”

“So what are you saying?” the same voice asks.

“Speak up, Ren,” Rose says, turning to the speaker, her voice challenging. “What do 
you
 think Bear’s saying?”

“I don’t know …” the woman says, her voice soft, unsure.

“Don’t matter if you know for certain or not. Take a guess. What do you guess he’s saying?”

“That the MealPaks have stuff in them that can change us?” Ren says.

“I haven’t eaten a MealPak in three years,” Remy says. “Sometimes I miss those colors I used to experience. Sometimes I miss not being able to draw as quickly or precisely or remember images as clearly as I could before. But when I stopped eating the MealPaks, I realized I wasn’t the same person the Dieticians had been making me, all those years. It was like all my life I’d been standing in front of a mirror in the darkness. Then one day, I reached over and switched on the light and there I was. Me. The 
real
 me.”

It occurs to me again, as it has more and more often in the last months, that I never experienced this change. Everyone in the Resistance talks about this process of withdrawal from the Sector’s drugs, both physically and mentally—and we all saw the effects in Miah, when he had an especially hard time coming off the MealPaks. I feel as though I’ve missed a rite of passage. And more than that, I keep asking myself, over and over, 
why?
 Why has everyone else seen this change and gone through this process of self-discovery, when I alone feel exactly the same, mentally and physically, as I did in Okaria?

“Drugs?” Luis says. “They aren’t drugs. Drugs are dreamweed, or cannabis. What the Sector puts in our MealPaks—”

“Is biochemically identical to the effect of dreamweed or cannabis, just in smaller doses,” Eli says, cutting him off. “Did you know that at least one out of every five Farm workers has benzodiazepine, a calming drug, in their MealPaks? When criminals go to the Asylum, they get put on the exact same drug. It’s designed to calm you, to keep you from worrying about things, to accept what the Bosses tell you without question.”

There’s a long silence as we wait for further objections, and none come. Finally, Luis speaks again.

“I don’t get it,” he says, in a tone that is neither judgmental nor bitter, but simply confused. “I’m happy to be who I am now. If I don’t eat my MealPaks, do I turn into somebody else?”

“Point is, the choice to be you should be yours.” Rose reaches out and takes his large, rough hand in hers. “You’re lucky you’re happy with who you are. But I’m not. I want to be more. I want to be like Remy, like Bear. I don’t like the notion someone else decides who I am and that they can decide to hold me back from being all I can be.”

“Luis,” Remy speaks up. “Would I like to experience the same sensations I experienced while eating my MealPaks? Sure. But it should be 
my
 choice. No government should force its citizens to eat foods that have been altered in order to alter the individual. If you choose to eat food enhanced to make you smarter or stronger, that’s okay. That’s your choice. But no one should force you to ingest chemicals, to put things in your body in order to change you, control you. If the Dieticians offered you a choice, you could decide on your own. Just like we’re offering you a choice now,” Remy says, addressing everyone in the group. “You don’t have to fight with us. You don’t have to fight at all. It’s up to you. But remember what the Sector did to Sam, and Tai, and my mother. If they can do that to them, they can do it to you, too.”

I speak up again and all eyes turn to me. “Sometimes choosing is hard. It was hard for me to realize my parents were not the people I thought they were. It was hard for me to realize they had hurt people I love. And it was hard for me to leave Okaria behind. But I did. I made the choice. Now, it’s up to you to make a similar choice. But as you make that choice, also try to keep in mind that the chemicals in your MealPaks influence how you think.”

“Those of you who’ve had enough can go back home, if you want,” Rose says. “But for those of you who want to help Remy and Vale and Bear make a change, who want to choose for yourself who and what you are instead of having the Dieticians make that choice for you, you stay here. 
Nous avons de travail a faire,” 
she says, and I translate in my head: 
We have work to do
.

No one moves. Even Luis, sitting at Rose’s side, looks unhappy, but unwilling to leave.

“I don’t know about all that stuff you said about the MealPaks,” he says, finally. “And I’m happy being who I am right now. But what the Bosses did to Sam was wrong, and if what you tell us about your sister and your mother, Remy, is true” he says, “
je suis vraiment desolé
, then I want to help make it right, if we can.”

“Merci beaucoup,” 
Remy says, graciously, though her voice has the tremor of loss in it that I hear every time she talks about Tai or Brinn. But a smile tugs at my lips, watching her, listening to her speak. 
She could lead them anywhere
, I think. I know I’d follow her.

“So,” the voice I now know as Ren rings out, “what do we do now?”

17 - VALE

Spring 8, SA 106, 10h10

Gregorian Calendar: March 27

At the conclusion of the meeting, we’d told Luis and Rose’s friends to lay low for now, and spread the word, if possible, about what they’d learned.

“We’ll tell you our plan as soon as we can,” Remy said. “We need to get more food, untainted, wholesome, for you to eat and share with your friends.” I noted she didn’t tell them not to eat their MealPaks, hoping, I supposed, that the placebo would kick into effect sooner than later.

“You know,” Eli says as we trudge back, “the chemicals in the MealPaks are only half the equation. Soren’s right. We need to get seeds from the LOTUS database in production.”

“I realize that,” she says. “You and Soren can head back and lead that effort any time. I’m not stopping you, and I didn’t ask you to come rescue me.”

Eli starts to protest, but Remy stops and turns to him, her hand resting lightly on his chest.

“Eli, I know you want to protect me. I know you love me like a sister and I love you like a brother, but you don’t have to stay. LOTUS 
is
 important. I know that. Vale could stay with Bear and me. We could go Farm to Farm talking to the people and the rest of you can go back and lead the raid to get the seed printer. Maybe that’s the best thing.”

I don’t say a word and neither one of them ask for my input. I’m heartened by the idea that we could work together on the Farms, that we’ve reached that point, but now that I feel like I’m truly a part of this team, I don’t want to break it up so soon.

Eli doesn’t say anything, but he nods and grabs her hand, and we head back to the cave. It’s around one in the morning before we finally crawl under our blankets. Remy, I note with satisfied relief, snuggles in at Eli’s side instead of Soren’s.

The next morning, I roll over on the hard ground and push myself up on my elbows. Everyone is still asleep, or at least still tucked into their bedrolls. There’s only one thing missing: Jahnu’s head, usually pressed close to Kenzie’s bright red hair.

I stand up and stretch. I look outside and note that Jahnu’s got a gas stove out and is heating some water. I walk outside and he smiles up at me.

“Hey,” he says.

“Morning. You been up for a while?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep. Everything happening has set my mind on edge.”

This is more than he usually says to just about anyone other than Kenzie or Remy, so I sit down to savor the experience.

“I know what you mean,” I say. “It’s like listening to thunder rumble across the lake before a storm breaks over the city. Something big is building and all we can really do is wait and be ready when it comes.”

He nods. “It is like that, isn’t it. I miss watching those storms roll in over Lake Okaria. It’s not the same when you’re surrounded by trees.”

I glance around us. “Though being surrounded by trees has its perks, too. Like, say, taking cover when the storm does roll through.”

“You’re not so bad, Vale, you know that? I knew all those years there had to be a reason Remy liked you so much, why she just couldn’t let go, but I could never figure it out.”

“Hell of a compliment, Jahnu,” I grin, teasing him, even though the little tingle starting in my belly tells me just how nice of a compliment it really was.

He laughs. “It was, wasn’t it? There’s a reason I keep my mouth shut most of the time. If I get started, I tend to rattle on or say things best left unsaid.”

I hear a rustling behind me, and turn to see Kenzie standing over me.

“Hey, love,” she says to Jahnu, dropping down beside him. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes, her frizzy hair a chaotic swirl of red and gold. “Morning, Vale.”

In a few moments, the encroaching daylight has opened everyone’s eyes, and Jahnu’s pouring tin cups of tea out for everyone.

“I’ll get a new message to the Director first thing,” Eli says. “Let her know we need reinforcements and a lot more food.”

“So how did she take the news that we weren’t coming back?” Kenzie asks. “You never said.”

“Not well,” Eli says with a glint in his eye. “But she gave credit where it was due. When I told her what Remy and Bear had done at the Dietician’s lab, she grudgingly admitted that ‘that wasn’t completely idiotic.’ I think she’s willing to work with us.”

“Damn. That’s high praise, coming from her,” Soren acknowledges.

“Do you think they’ll be able to get food here today?” Remy asks.

“Tomorrow morning at the latest,” Eli responds. “They might have a lot of cooking to do.”

“Damn Farm workers ate all our food,” Firestone mutters. Eli rolls his eyes.

“They did not,” he retorts. “We’ve got boar to spare. And we only gave them what Remy and Bear brought. There’s enough left on our airship to get us through the day with leftovers.”

Firestone growls under his breath, and I remember from our weeks in the woods together that mornings are by no means his favorite part of the day. “That scrawny pig is tougher than shoe leather. Must have been the oldest pig in the whole damn Wilds. Certainly the rangiest.”

“So what’s next?” Miah asks. “Are we just waiting around, for now?”

“Waiting for the reinforcements,” Eli responds. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. Guess who’s leading the reinforcement team?”

“Who?” Miah looks wary.

“Your dad. Ezekiel.” Miah just blinks at him, unable to process this information. “Apparently he leads a raid team at Teutoburg, which isn’t far from here. He’ll be flying in with several others and a shipload of food.”