Middle Ground (17 page)

We were all quiet for a few minutes. I thought about what happened at Club Nino and the attention it generated.

“What if we caused a mass exit?” I spoke up. “Let the whole school loose and get national news coverage. Expose what Vaughn’s doing. I bet the government doesn’t have an explanation ready for why hundreds of drugged teenagers in hospital scrubs are running loose on the streets of L.A.”

Molly shook her head. “If all these kids are drugged, who knows how they’ll react. If we try to break them out now, they could all have nervous breakdowns. Remember how you reacted the first time you saw us,” she said. She took a MindReader out of her bag and started to explain why she was using it, but I cut her off.

“I’m used to these,” I told her quickly and slipped it on.

“What?” Molly asked. “You never told me they use MindReaders in here. You just mentioned imagery screens.” She raised her hands in the air. “How did you forget to tell me this?”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “It’s not like I’m very detail oriented these days.”

“What’s the big deal?” Gabe asked.

“They could be downloading memories into your brain,” Molly told me.

“They can do that?” Clare asked.

“It’s illegal, but technically, yes, they’ve been able to do it for years. Doctors used to try it with Alzheimer’s and amnesia cases. They used MindReaders to install memories. But it was risky, and the memories were never completely accurate. And it was too easy to brainwash people. Way too many ethical issues.”

“Is there any way to test your theory?” Justin asked. Molly nodded.

“I can run a simulation. But without knowing what the drug’s doing, it won’t be a hundred percent accurate.”

“I can try and get you the drug.” Gabe suddenly spoke up. “Pat’s right, you’ll never find anything in Maddie’s blood. The DC sees to that. I’d like to know what’s in it myself,” he said.

Molly asked how he could get it.

“Some of the doctors leave extras out on their desks. They used to keep documented records of each tablet, but it’s gotten lax the last few years. Since I clean out their offices . . .” He didn’t have to finish the sentence for all of us to understand.

“What if they notice it’s gone?” I asked. “What if you get caught?”

“Hopefully you’ll figure out a way to free this place so it won’t matter,” he said.

“Why are you helping us?” Clare suddenly asked. Her voice wasn’t accusing; Clare couldn’t sound threatening if she tried. She sounded grateful. Everyone watched Gabe, all equally interested in his answer. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment at the attention.

“It’s no big deal,” he mumbled, and sat back in his seat.

Clare pressed him. “Out of almost a thousand kids you decided to help Maddie. Why?”

He lifted his hands in the air like it was obvious. “Because out of all the kids locked up in here, only three have ever made eye contact with me after the first counseling session. Maddie’s one of them. You guys don’t understand how rare it is to have people look at you in here, let alone have the nerve to talk.” He pointed at me. “Usually that drug works so fast, people go into hibernation. One hit, and they’re brain-dead. Some kids don’t even leave their rooms to use the bathroom. It’s that bad.”

We all winced at his last detail.

“Everybody who comes through this place vanishes. It’s like they surrender the second they walk in the gate. They have no fight at all. But you acted like it was just an inconvenience,” he said to me. “Not many people announce they plan to break out of a detention center to a staff member.”

“You said that?” Molly asked.

I glanced at Justin and he just rolled his eyes. “What did I have to lose? I’ve been censoring myself for seventeen years. I didn’t feel like I was living until six months ago, when I stopped caring what people thought. When you hold back you don’t do this world any favors. You don’t make any impression.”

“You definitely made an impression,” Gabe said. “I almost reported you.”

Justin asked Gabe how long he had been working at the DC. He paused for a second, considering whether or not to open up, but he gave in. He realized we were all on the same side.

“Six years,” he said. “I’ve been here since I was eleven. I’m what people like to call a purebred.”

“Nice,” Justin said with admiration.

“What’s a purebred?” I asked.

“People that grow up without computers,” Justin answered for him.

Gabe nodded and said his parents were farmers. He grew up in northern California, east of the Cascades, in a small town made up of families living on sustainable farms. They grew just enough food to support themselves.

“We didn’t use money,” he said. “We lived without technology as much as we could. We used solar power for electricity; that’s it. We didn’t have phones or computers or televisions. There was only one computer in my town, at our community building, but I never used it.”

“That’s impossible. How can you live like that?” Pat asked. “You were completely cut off.”

“I never felt like I was cut off,” Gabe said. “It’s all I knew. I grew up working outside, using my hands, getting exercise, living off the land. We listened to the news on the radio sometimes, but it was like listening to a sci-fi movie. Everything was about being digital or virtual or plugging in or tuning in. I couldn’t understand it. It sounded like they were talking about machines, not humans.”

Justin and I shared a smile. Gabe wasn’t far off.

Clare asked Gabe how he ended up in the detention center and he explained the government had discovered their community and broke it up. “It’s illegal to deny your kids access to digital school,” he told us. “We didn’t even have the option to attend DS. So they relocated us.

“My parents were arrested,” he continued, “and so were half the people in my town. I doubt it exists anymore.” His words came out slower as he recalled the memory. “Younger kids were sent to live with other relatives. I didn’t have any living relatives so I stayed with a foster family in San Francisco, but I ran away after a few months. When the police caught me, they sent me here.”

“Did the DC even know what to do with you?” I asked.

He shook his head. “I can read, I can write, but I’ve never touched a computer. No one bothered to teach me. So they started putting me to work. They realized I could fix anything. I’ve done every job in this place, from maintenance to laundry. Even security. They handed me a staff shirt three years ago and gave me a room in the employee suites.” Gabe smiled to himself. “I don’t care if I live my whole life without touching a computer. It’s my goal not to.”

“Can’t you just leave?” Molly asked him.

“I thought about it,” Gabe said. “But my foster parents signed a contract that I’d work here until I was eighteen, for room and board. I have less than a year left. I figure I can hold out.” He checked the time and looked over at me.

“We need to head back,” he said.

When we stood up to go, I said I needed to talk to Clare. Alone. Everyone nodded and they all said goodbye as they filtered out.

When Gabe shut the door, Clare turned to me, her face worried. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

I picked at a piece of loose thread on my scrubs. I didn’t know how to transition, so I decided to be blunt.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me about Kristin Locke?”

Her mouth fell open when the name left my lips. A flush of regret traveled over her face. “Maddie—”

“You should have told me, Clare. At least you.” She sat down at the edge of the bed, and I pulled my legs away from her and curled my arm protectively around them. I sat up straighter on the cot and balled up the sheets in my other hand.

“Justin told you?” Her question only made me more upset.

“He never got around to it. Gabe brought it up—he assumed I already knew, since friends usually confide in each other.”

She nodded slowly. “I’m sorry. I wanted to tell you, but we’re not supposed to bring it up. Ever. Justin never talks about it. We just don’t go there with him. I needed to respect that. But I honestly thought he’d tell you.”

“Yeah, well, I guess that’s just too personal for him.” I leaned my head against the wall and breathed out a long sigh. My thoughts felt heavy and it took effort to push them through my lips. “Why is he trying to keep me in the dark?”

She told me it was the way he coped with what happened.

“Doesn’t he let anyone in?” I asked.

Clare shook her head and smiled sadly. “I told you, you picked a challenging guy to love.”

“It’s easy to love Justin,” I pointed out. “Anyone can do that. He’s amazing.”

She thought about this. “Okay, it’s easy to love him. It’s getting
him
to love that’s the problem.”

“How did he handle Kristin’s death?” I asked.

“It was pretty bad,” she said. “He cut himself off from everyone. He disappeared. We didn’t hear from him for months. It’s like he fell into a black hole.”

“He thinks it’s his fault,” I said, not knowing the situation but knowing Justin.

Clare nodded. “I know he feels responsible. He’s the one who organized the protest and signed her up to volunteer. He had to find her body after the explosion. He had to tell her parents.”

Hot tears burned my eyes. I pressed my hands over my face.

“Maddie? That happened years ago. I think he’s made his peace with it. I haven’t seen him happier than he is now, when he’s with you. If anything, he’s just scared to get close to anyone again. He’s not afraid of getting hurt, but
he doesn’t want to hurt you.
The people he’s closest to have been killed or arrested or exiled. It’s not a great track record. That’s why I was so shocked to see him let his guard down with you. He never has before.”

I wiped my eyes with my sleeve. It felt good to cry. It was a release. It expelled energy I didn’t want to carry inside of me, energy that was weighing down my heart. The heaviness started to dissolve.

“I used to think he was too good for me,” I admitted. “When we first met, he had traveled and done things I couldn’t imagine. I felt like he had lived five lives and I was barely living one.”

“That’s not true,” Clare said.

“I know. That’s what I needed to realize. At first I thought he could teach me so much, and I had nothing to give back to him. But he doesn’t have life figured out any more than I do. He’s naive in so many ways.”

“You should talk to him about it,” she said. “Maybe you’re right, maybe he needs to vent to someone. I just never had the guts to bring it up with him. If anyone’s brave enough, it’s you.”

“You’ve been here for four months,” Dr. Stevenson informed me in the imagery room. It was my first counseling session in weeks. The nightmares had nearly ended. I hadn’t been given a dose of the Cure in weeks. I was starting to get my appetite back.

“Time for you to get back on your feet,” she told me. I sat down on the cushioned seat and she turned on the wall screens. I expected her to hand me a MindReader, but a computer program popped up on the screen. It read
LADC SETUP
in blinking orange letters.

She explained that the program took about two hours to complete. “Once you’re registered, you can continue using it from your dorm room. It’s designed to help you reconnect with society. Don’t worry,” she assured me. “It’s only a simulated version. Think of it as a steppingstone. You can practice socializing and communicating again before you do the real thing.”

“You think I’m ready?” I asked her with fake dread in my voice. The detention center hadn’t broken me and I assumed Dr. Stevenson was perceptive enough to see that. I was surprised they were letting me move on to this stage.

“Remember, our chief goal at the DC is to prepare you for society. We want to know you’ll go out into the world and be a responsible, law-abiding citizen. That you’ll make a positive impact.”

Dr. Stevenson told me she would be back in two hours to check on me, or I could hit the Complete button if I was done sooner. She walked out of the room and I concentrated on the screen.

A single white sentence wrapped around the room, and a deep male voice boomed through the speakers with an ominous force.

“The world is yours to shape,” the man said, and I jumped in my seat from the sound. A photograph of the planet Earth appeared on the screen and two floating hands cupped it.

A man’s image walked around from behind Earth, as if humans could be as large as a planet. He walked across the wall screens of the room in slow, confident strides.

I was waiting for him to say,
This planet has been brought to you by technology.com. Your life has been granted to you by Digital School, Inc. Any questions?

“It’s time to design your perfect life!” he exclaimed. He wore a dark, tailored suit and a red tie. He had a chiseled jaw and a deep cleft in his chin. He looked like a cologne model waiting to be discovered who was doing infomercials in the meantime to pay the bills. He was middle-aged, and his black hair was shiny and slicked back with gel to expose a sharp widow’s peak.

He clapped his hands together and his eyes shined. “Welcome to your LADC itinerary setup,” he said. “We’ll begin by helping you establish a routine. Life needs to be predictable in order to be functional. The schedule I’m about to show you is merely a suggestion. Use it as a jumping-off point. Feel free to organize the timing and activities to fit your individual needs. We want to help you structure your ideal day.

“Remember,” he added with a grin, like we were in on a secret together, “life rests in the palm of your hand. It is yours to create and re-create. It is your garden to plant, your blueprint to design, your picture to sketch. Life is a program. Enjoy the facilitating.”

“Inspiring,” I mumbled. I stared at a mock schedule the LADC so kindly offered: