Secret Value of Zero, The (8 page)

Tracking device on your clothes.

Meke’s mind invented all sorts of curses. She had been even more foolish than she had imagined. Trove sighed, his shoulders eased.

I am sorry about this, you know. But this has to be done.

He motioned for Meke to take the lead back. She went, but she couldn’t find any direction in her thoughts. She couldn’t decide whether Trove had saved or condemned her.
 

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When they arrived at the camp, Theria turned around and glared at Meke. Theria got up, stretching out her long and thin body and stalked off into the forest.
 

Trove chuckled, his chest rising and falling in a rapid rhythm. Meke shook her head. The man had a strange sense of humor.
 

Belatedly, she realized that it was the first time that she had ever seen him smile. The sight puzzled her. Instead of hardness, she saw an ordinary man. That had to be wrong; Trove was a Fiver, and a strong one at that.

Arya leaned against a tree a few meters away from Meke. “What were you thinking?” Meke stayed still, unable to put her tangled thoughts into words. “I was worried! I thought you’d gotten yourself hurt or kidnapped!” Arya exclaimed.
 

“My friends wouldn’t have left me in there for eight years, and then took me out when it was convenient.”
 

Arya sagged a bit. “I don’t blame you for being mad about that. I hated it. I always did. I had to do it, you see? We needed information. We needed something big. Now we have you.”

The anger faded from Meke’s body. Arya looked shrunken and tiny, hunched over like that. Meke swore to herself. Now she felt guilty and hated the feeling.

Several men and women stood at the edge of the clearing, peering at her. The orb on her hands shone dimly in the cloudy haze of the day. Meke wanted to cover these things, to hide from their gaze.

MEKE TWISTED her neck so she could watch the mountains recede as the truck rumbled along on its journey. From this distance, the mountains looked as if they were deep blue, instead of the grays and browns that she had seen for eight years. After a while, flat grasslands with their dusty yellows and browns swallowed up the view of the mountains. The window’s grime interfered with the sight, but Meke stared all the more.
 

Nobody lived hereabouts. That was not surprising. Even though people glutted Prosperon, the cities bore the entire burden. Once Prosperon deemed the farmland barren, the cities provided the only way to live.
 

The truck’s hot and moist air weighted down on her. Meke wished that she could open a window to get some fresh air. She felt the others’ breaths on her face, neck and arms. Sweat, warm and sticky, slowly collected on her forehead and the nape of her neck.
 

Meke’s shoulders jostled her neighbors whenever the truck encountered a bump, which was often. Her neighbors were two of the three men who waited by the truck the previous night. They wore the same black uniforms as Theria and Trove—rough black pants and black jackets that covered their body from the waist to the neck. Meke caught a glimpse of dagger hilts pointing out of some of the pockets. One had a crossbow bound onto his back. Another had a sword, a broad and brutish sword, not as thin and elegant as Trove’s.
 

Meke looked at the cat, who had tucked himself (Meke had checked earlier, and this cat was visibly male) into a tight ball in her lap, trembling. Meke tried to soothe the cat, but it refused to be soothed. You should be called Tooth, Meke thought. The cat had earned his new name. When one of the soldiers had tried to excise the cat and shoo it away, the cat bared its teeth and claws, making the woman pale and pull back. The cat thrashed his tail, arched his back and bared his impressive fangs at anyone who came near him, except for Meke. Everyone else threw up their hands and resigned themselves to the strange creature.
 

 
Meke’s eyes roamed the cramped truck bed. Occasionally, her and Theria’s eyes would meet, but Theria’s gaze flitted elsewhere after a short moment. Trove was the only one who would meet her eyes, his gray eyes calm and direct. She tried to push away the feeling of déjà vu, but it refused to fade.

The truck continued its journey for two days, only stopping for the necessities and to switch drivers. Meke watched as the grasslands became desolate, sandy plains, and then the sands rose up into mountains once again. These mountains were different from the one back at the institution. These mountains were greener—more lush with trees—but smaller. These mountains fell away into flatness once more.
 

The truck wound through a thick forest that looked nothing like the ones in the mountains. This forest boasted giant trees that stretched so far high that Meke’s sense couldn’t feel the tops. Their trunks, tinged with red, stood solidly wide, impervious to the forces of nature. The evergreens in the mountains seemed anemic in comparison.
 

The truck stopped at a small cabin made of rotting logs and chipped stone. Not much of a revolution, Meke thought. Arya led her to the building. Meke could smell the damp mildew before she went through the door. Appearances proved deceiving. As she entered the mildewed cabin, the labyrinth of tunnels that ran under the small cabin became clear in her sense.
 

Everyone descended a long ladder into the earth’s bowels. Meke carried Tooth’s curled, trembling body. Finally the tunnel opened up into a long hallway. Meke could feel the size of this place. It sprawled so large, Meke suspected that it spanned several kilometers, probably more.
 

The flurry of bodies, the rooms, the lowness of the ceilings all made Meke dizzy. She now missed the outdoors’ expanse.
 

“We’re here. Welcome to the Barracks.” Arya smiled.

Wide-eyed, Meke absorbed her new surroundings. This room towered large above them, the only room with high ceilings. People milled around, mostly in the now-familiar rough black uniforms.

“This is the Nerve Center,” Arya said, “where everyone comes and meets.”

The name fit. Meke could feel people pouring in and out of the other rooms, but they all seemed to pass through this place. Nobody looked at her or them. A few men and women in black waved at Trove, ignoring Meke and the rest of her party; their eyes shone with admiration as they looked at Trove’s swords.
 

“I’ll let Sterling know you’re here,” Arya said, and with these words sadness flashed in her face and then was gone.

The soldiers all walked by with brisk, efficient steps that wasted little energy. Mostly squares shone on their hands. Meke saw a few Equis and Fivers, but Squares dominated.

Meke shouldn’t have been surprised. Squares, as the normals—average intelligence, average skills, average physiques—occupied the fat middle of the Prosperon bell curve. Despite being the most populous rank, Squares had little power. They couldn’t own handhelds. They only worked at service centers, serving Fivers and Stars in basic technical duties and rituals. They had more money and prestige than Equis and Zeroes, but their homes and cars seemed shabby next to the Fivers and the Stars.
 

Cecil fidgeted behind her, drawing Meke’s attention. Cecil leaned against her, his head limp and eyes squeezed shut. His hand rubbed his ears incessantly. Theria spoke to Trove, but Meke could only make out one word,
doctor
. Theria slid Cecil’s arm under her arm and led him off to one of the rooms beyond the Nerve Center.
 

Only she and Trove remained. Meke’s stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten lunch in their rush to get here. Trove, somehow, knew this. He led her into a room full of tables.

As they sat, a man came over, bearing a steaming bowl of stew. The delicious smell filled Meke’s nostrils, making any sensible thought impossible. The man stared at her hands, but Meke focused on the bowl and its contents.
 

She scooped mouthfuls of the stew. It looked different, darker, more uneven. As she chewed, she realized the difference. This was no GE food. No plant produced this. The colors were too uneven. The potatoes had bumps and splotches. Unlike the GE tomatoes’ pristine redness, these tomatoes had pink and yellow-green splotches.
 

When Meke looked up, she caught Trove’s bemused expression. She straightened, taking care not to smear food on her mouth. Keeping her eyes on the bowl, she continued eating, at a more reasonable rate. Despite Meke’s hunger, she saved a few pieces for Tooth. She put a rare slice of meat in her hand and lowered it under the table. Tooth nipped her hand in his eagerness. His teeth were sharp. Yes, Tooth’s name suited him.
 

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Trove and Meke waited outside of a door. The door looked like all of the other doors that they passed—large, smooth and dark gray. She could feel the people beyond the wall.

Meke’s breath caught in her throat. She wondered what would happen beyond the door. She only knew that Sterling was the revolutionary leader and that she played an unseen role in his plans. What did he want with her? Did he want her to act like a radar, silently registering movements? Did she want that? Questions, instead of answers, arose.

Meke wondered what would’ve happened if she had escaped in the mountains. Would she be free at this moment, just her, Tooth and the trees? No, probably not. She would probably be dead of starvation or of thirst. She shuddered at the thought, yet she still remembered those few moments of freedom with fondness.
 

The door opened into a dim room and Meke saw Arya and a tall man. The man was dark-skinned with close-cropped hair. His angular face only accentuated his handsomeness. The five perfect points of a star radiated, yellow-white, on his hands. The contrast between the star’s ghostly paleness and Sterling’s dark skin was startling. He was a Star. She had no time to ponder this as Trove nudged Meke for her feet to start working.
 

 
Sterling looked at Arya. She nodded and faced Meke. “Meke, I will be your interpreter for this discussion.”

Meke nodded; she hadn’t expected Sterling to know a single word of sign language. She sat back in the chair and tried not to allow her nervousness to show.
 

Sterling beamed at Meke, confusing her. As far as she could tell, his smile was genuine—the corners of his eyes crinkled. Most men, especially Stars, would be suspicious, angry, or even proprietary, but not friendly.
 

“Arya told me that your vision is quite—” he glanced around “—extraordinary. I knew something unusual was happening in your visual cortex. But, of course, I couldn’t know how it would manifest.”

Meke tangled her fingers together. Something inside still protested others knowing about this sense. She had only just now made it hers; she wouldn't relinquish her ownership.
 

“So, what precisely can you see?” Sterling asked, his eyes open and curious.
 

Don’t believe them.

Meke pressed her fists into her lap. “I’m sorry, but I won’t tell you that.” Meke cursed her need to be polite to this man, this Star.
 

He looked surprised. “Why not? We are helping you and your kind,” speaking these words slowly, he articulated every syllable.
 

“I don’t care. You only brought me here for your own purposes. I just want to do what I want.” Meke blanched at her own words. She had planned on smooth diplomacy, not this.
 

He chuckled. “That’s what we’re trying to do, too.” He pressed his fingertips together. “Of course, you’re suspicious. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have run away. Let me explain and I’m sure you’ll understand.”
 

Meke wondered why people kept saying that. It wasn’t like explanations and rationalizations could wash everything clean.
 

“This world, this country, sorts everyone according to their intelligence and aptitude. Nice idea in theory, but it’s killing us.” He rubbed his forehead. “Stars constitute less than two percent of the population. We’re dying out. Fivers are getting smaller, too. Stars and Fivers don’t have the time to bear that many children, so the options were limited. There’s also the issue of inbreeding. When I was at the Ministry of Education, I studied the old system. It was horribly inefficient, of course. People would squabble over the stupidest things. Nothing got done.”

Meke wondered where he was going with this.
 

“You see, that society had more vibrancy. More humanity in it. More kindness. We thrived for centuries on this philosophy. I want to bring that back, maybe in a better form.” He leaned forward, his fingertips on the desk. “That means people need to be free to do what they want, within reason. Exactly what you want, right?”

Meke shrugged. “Sure, I want that. But what I don’t want is to be involved. You can do whatever you want.” She waved her hand. “But I’ll just be on my way,” her hands shaking as she finished her sentence.
 

Feelings of selfishness and self-absorption fell upon her. She wasn’t doing anything for the greater good. Then she remembered the institution. No longer did she want her fate to be wrapped up with someone else’s needs and desires.
 

Sterling rubbed the side of his jaw, nodding slightly. “Did you know that Cecil is having some of the same side effects as you are?”

“What?”
 

Sterling saw the flash of alarm in Meke’s eyes and continued. “Mind you—Cecil doesn’t see better, like you. He hears better. He can hear things that happen more than a kilometer away. It’s quite remarkable.” He paused. “It occurs to me that this drug only amplifies the sense that you depend on. Your sight and Cecil’s hearing. I wonder…”
 

After Meke had recovered from the surprise, she forced her eyes to meet Sterling’s. “What will you do with me and Cecil?”