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  Chapter 5 – The Dome off Ocean

  The stacked, ornate domes of the first ring were looming closer. They stood a good deal higher than their counterparts of the outer rings, higher, even, than those of the second and third. They concealed the Center behind them almost completely. Their plots, on which Vincent’s dome could have fit three or four times over, were occupied so completely with sprawling expansions that the entire ring blended together at the sides, forming a single, impenetrable unit. As Vincent and Jessica grew closer to it, Vincent found himself stricken with the impression of having reached the outer wall of some giant cage.

  “That’s it,” said Jessica. She came to a stop when she said it. Vincent stopped as well. They were in the narrow pass between the domes of the first and second rings, just a few plots off the main path.

  “You’re sure?” asked Vincent. He followed Jessica’s gaze up toward the dome just ahead, the one closest to Ocean. It was a full four or five of Vincent’s dome. The gleaming white hemispheres that formed it were stacked three high, with almost a dozen smaller offshoots. The additions hung out over the main stack as if hovering, casting so great a number of shadows as to shade a good majority of the dome’s front face.

  “Yes,” said Jessica. “It’s his.”

  Vincent drew a deep breath – as deep as he could manage, at least. His lungs had grown tight.

  “How do you think we should get in?” he asked.

  Jessica shrugged. “How else? We’ll have to go through the front.”

  Vincent raised his brow. “Are you serious? Shouldn’t we try to sneak in or something?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” said Jessica. “We wouldn’t be able to break into a dome in the sixth ring let alone the first.”

  Vincent looked again to the intricately stacked dome ahead. There were no windows, of course. Except perhaps on the far side facing the Center, but windows there would be far too high to access. There would likely be a back door, too, but if it was like Vincent’s, there would be no method of opening it from the outside. Its surface would be undetectable, flush with the walls of the dome around it.

  “We’re already here,” said Jessica. “We have to try. My dad wouldn’t want us to just wait around. And neither would your parents.”

  As if the scene from earlier that night were replaying across his Lenses, Vincent saw his father’s limbs flailing in a sea of gray, his mother’s blood speckled lips parted in a soundless scream…

  He blinked, hard, then again several times after. The images faded, but they didn’t quite disappear.

  He turned his gaze to the front door of Brian’s dome. The greater portion of it was shaded by the overhang of the second story some three meters above. The palm sized screen on its surface was visible even from across the path. Vincent forced himself to focus on the small light there.

  “Ok,” he said, breathing in. “I’m ready when you are.”

  Jessica’s posture grew straight. Her eyes were trained on the door the same as Vincent’s. She nodded.

  No longer shrinking from the lights overhead, they crossed the path together. In that moment, everything seemed almost natural. But just for that moment. In the next, they were standing under the flat overhang of the second story dome, completely still at the step of the front door.

  “Look,” said Jessica. Vincent followed her finger toward the palm sized panel on the door’s surface. The light there was bright orange. “He must have been awake.”

  Vincent grew rigid, his spine straightening of its own accord the way it always did when he realized he was being watched. The orange light was to indicate the presence of the intercom. Brian could see them through the screen’s front camera.

  “What are you doing here?”

  The voice was clear, ungarbled by the speaker that transmitted it, but it didn’t sound as confident as usual. It wavered on certain syllables, and it shook in a way Vincent hadn’t heard before.

  “We want to talk to you.” It was Jessica who answered. “Can you let us in?”

  There was silence on the other end for a few seconds.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” said Brian. He had forced some of the old boldness back into his voice. “The Seclusion is on lockdown. You need to go back to your domes.”

  “I think you know we can’t do that,” said Vincent, and from the silence he was met with, he knew he had been right.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” fumbled Brian. “But you need to go back. You should be asleep.”

  “So should you,” said Vincent.

  The intercom went silent once again, for longer this time. Vincent was holding his breath. He had to resist the temptation to turn his head on a swivel to scan the shadows for gray uniforms. He kept his attention straight forward, his eyes locked, pointlessly, on the blank screen of the intercom, his ears perked for the slightest rustle of movement.

  The front door slid open.

  Vincent turned to the opening, frowning. The lower section of his stomach started to churn. He was almost disappointed. His nerves would have been much calmer had Newsight's charcoal gray uniforms streamed from the shadows. At least then he would have known what to expect. For the moment, however, that luxury had been withheld.

  “Maybe you were right,” whispered Jessica. The slight trembling of her lower lip betrayed a quite different sentiment.

  Still frowning, Vincent turned back to the palm-sized screen to their right. The orange light had gone dark. Brian was no longer watching them.

  “I guess we’ll see,” said Vincent. “Come on.” He took the lead and stepped inside. To his surprise, the lights flicked on overhead.

  If Jessica’s dome was on one end of the spectrum, Brian’s was on the end exactly opposite. The air inside the dome tasted so strongly of nothing that it made Vincent want to gag. The Main was dutifully barren but for two empty white chairs on either side of the kitchen table, the surface of which looked impossible to rest one’s elbows on without slipping. Vincent felt as if he had just been dropped inside a giant, whited-out beaker in a private laboratory. Everything was eerily precise.

  There was a soft thud from somewhere above. Vincent tensed, his mind once again filled with images of men in gray jumpsuits. Jessica shifted a touch closer to him as they looked up. The ceiling, instead of the dome’s usual curve, was flat, and the pure white had been replaced by something not quite that, something almost see-through, opaque. Vincent could see a shadow; the thuds were footsteps of someone a story above. The steps grew progressively softer as the shadow drew farther away from them, deeper into the dome toward the far side, then went quiet altogether. Vincent cast Jessica a look, but she seemed as puzzled as he was. Neither of them spoke, waiting instead for the sound of the footsteps.

  “This isn’t a good idea.”

  Vincent and Jessica spun around in the same motion. Brian had just emerged through a door in the far wall of the dome.

  “The raids on the Senators won’t last much longer.”

  He was wearing white trousers, without suspenders, and a white shirt not so tight as the ones required at school. He may have looked a good deal younger than usual, as a child freshly crawled from his bed, but something about his expression prevented it.

  “We didn’t have anywhere else to go,” said Vincent.

  “That doesn’t mean you should have come here,” Brian shot back.

  Vincent didn’t make a move to leave. Nor did Jessica.

  “We know what’s going on with Newsight,” said Jessica. “We know everything.”

  Vincent let out a breath that had been caught somewhere in his throat. Any pretense they had entered with was now gone.

  “All the more reason to have let yourselves be taken,” said Brian. He had still yet to venture more than a few steps from the door he had just emerged through. He wasn’t poised to run, but he was far from relaxed.

  “I don’t think you believe that,” said Vincent.

  Even from a distance, Vincent
could see Brian’s eyebrows twitch upward. “And why is that?”

  “What you said,” answered Vincent. “After my dream. And the way you looked at me in the simulation.” He scanned Brian’s face for any betraying sign of recognition. The boy was unreadable. “You know something,” Vincent continued. “About Newsight. But we know things too. We know about the bill and the new Lenses and–”

  “Stop.”

  Vincent caught his words mid-sentence and went quiet. Now was the time, he thought. It had been as good as a confession. The men in gray uniforms would be appear at any second.

  “Both of you?” asked Brian. They nodded. Brian stayed still, his eyes unblinking, appraising them, then, slowly, he nodded as well. He left the safety of the doorframe and started toward the kitchen table, his footsteps muffled now that they didn’t fall on the glass floor above. “I expected Vincent,” he said, “But you…” he inspected Jessica, “…I never would have thought, what with your dad. My mom always says how much he loves Newsight.”

  Jessica snorted under her breath. “He’s a good actor.”

  Brian shrugged. “Apparently not good enough.”

  Jessica took a step forward, but Vincent held her back. Brian held up his hands as he walked. “Sorry,” he said. “It’s just habit. We’re all in character, after all.”

  Jessica frowned at this, but Brian didn’t explain. He merely kept walking, past the duo of chairs next to the dining table and into the kitchen. He started rummaging around in one of the kitchen cabinets. Its contents were hidden from view. “Sit,” he said, motioning to the chairs.

  Vincent stayed where he was, braced, still prepared to keep Jessica from launching herself forward.

  “Well come on,” said Brian, as he poked his head out from behind the cabinet. “If I’m going to risk this for you, the least you can do is show some manners.”

  “Risk what?” said Vincent. He didn’t bother curbing the edge of suspicion in his voice. He had been holding his breath hoping for a scene like this, but now he had it, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to play along.

  “Everything,” said Brian. He emerged from behind the cabinet motioning to the room at large. His fingers were curled around the rims of three small cups. “If my mom happens to bring someone back for a meeting after the raids, they’ll turn you in.”

  “How do we know you haven’t already done that?” said Jessica. “Or your mom. My dad always says how under Fatrem’s thumb she is.”

  Brian grinned at this. It was an expression not so unlike the one of his Vincent had seen in the classroom, fleeting, and nearly undecipherable for someone not expecting it.

  “Your dad isn’t the only one who can act,” said Brian.

  Jessica shook her head. “That isn’t enough.”

  “Are you really in the position to ask for anything more?”

  Jessica opened her mouth to counter him, but she said nothing. Vincent answered for her.

  “Just tell us what you know,” he said. “Or turn us in. It doesn’t make any difference to us.”

  Brian let his lips curl upward in another grin. They stayed that way for a few seconds this time. “Sit.” He motioned to the chairs once again, then turned back toward the kitchen. Reluctantly, but knowing there was nothing else to do, Vincent started for the table. Jessica followed more slowly behind him.

  “You should be more careful,” said Brian. He was back in the kitchen, filling the first of the three cups under the sink faucet. “If you had walked in any other dome saying what you just said, you would have signed your own death warrants.”

  “Have we not already?” asked Vincent. He lowered himself into the chair closest to the kitchen as he spoke. Jessica followed suit in the chair closest to the door.

  “Maybe you already have somewhere else,” said Brian as he started filling the second cup. “But not here. Our dome is protected. The whole management sector of the first ring is. No Lenses in this part of the ring can be connected to the normal network. My mom lobbied for it herself, ‘to protect sensitive management conversations’.” He flourished the empty cup in the air as he said the last part. “Lucky for you,” he continued, lowering the final cup under the faucet, “it protects more than just conversations about management.” He shot them what he may have supposed to be a comforting grin, then tilted his head to the left to watch the water level rise in the final cup. Vincent observed him carefully. He seemed relaxed now, unlike he had upon their initial entry. Vincent felt completely opposite. When they had entered the dome, there had been two scenarios: be caught or be saved. Now, the scenarios remained, but Vincent had yet to decipher which one they were in.

  Brian crossed over to them and sat the two cups balanced in his right hand in the middle of the table. He kept the third cup for himself. “You’re safe here,” he said, “but only for a while. They’ll have seen you come.”

  “So they already know,” said Vincent. “They have been watching. They heard us outside when we were talking about it all.” Vincent was almost relieved as the words left his mouth. Their certainty was seductive, but short-lived.

  “Maybe,” said Brian. The churning in Vincent’s stomach resumed. “But the system still has bugs. They won’t catch everything at first. Especially during the raids. And it’s not like you have to worry about making things worse for yourselves. Running from them already did that.” Brian lifted his cup to his lips and took a drink. Vincent and Jessica left theirs untouched.

  “So there’s a chance we can make it out of this?” asked Vincent. “That we can save our parents?”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” said Brian. “If you’ve somehow gotten the idea in your head that the Order is some ultra-powerful–”

  “The Order?” interrupted Jessica. “What are you talking about?”

  Brian stopped, frowning. He looked confused for the first time. “I’m talking about what you asked me to,” he said, annoyed.

  “We didn’t come to talk about the Order,” said Vincent. “We’re here because we thought you might be a part of some sort of movement against Newsight.”

  Brian’s grin returned. It looked uglier now, for some reason. “That’s my fault,” he said. “I thought you had worked it all out.” He sat his water back on the counter behind him. “The Order is more than just the catalyst Fatrem needed to pass his bill. It’s the reason he wanted it passed. Part of it, anyway.”

  “You’re saying the Order still exists?” asked Jessica. “They’re still protesting?”

  “They’re doing more than that,” said Brian, “They’re resisting. The ‘attacks’ the Senate has been talking about have all been on Newsight factories. The attacks authorized by the true Order, at least. The ones on civilians, I’m guessing you already know about.”

  Vincent and Jessica said nothing.

  “My mom started telling me about it all when I first started school,” said Brian. “Around the time John left.”

  “John?” said Vincent.

  “My brother,” said Brian. “He ran off years ago. My mom says he’s helping her, but I’m not sure he’s even alive.”

  Jessica squinted, as if concentrating. “I remember John,” she said. “Barely, from the Newsight retreats when we were little.” She paused, frowning. “What would he be helping your mom with?”

  “Something with the Order,” said Brian “My mom needs all the help she can get.”

  “Your mom is in the Order?” joined Vincent.

  “She’s been on the inside for years,” said Brian. “Without her, the Order would stand even less of a chance than we already do.”

  Jessica raised an eyebrow. “We?” Brian merely stared back. Jessica didn’t lower her gaze.

  “But the Order has to stand some chance right?” said Vincent, breaking the silence. “The attacks must be doing something.”

  Brian held Jessica’s gaze a second longer before turning to Vincent. “You’re getting ahead of yourself again,” he said. “I don’t think you understand what Newsigh
t is capable of.”

  Vincent didn’t protest. He had long since given up the pretense of knowing anything for certain.

  “Your only sample is what you’ve seen in the Seclusion,” continued Brian. “You have no idea what’s going on outside of it, or what it even is.”

  “And you do?” challenged Jessica.

  Brian shrugged in his indifferent, secretive way. “I’ve seen it for myself,” he said. “In THE SIM.”

  “The sim?” repeated Jessica. Her words didn’t have the same emphasis. “I don’t remember any of our simulations from class having–”

  “Not from class,” snapped Brian. “From the Order. From Goodwin.”

  “Goodwin?” said Vincent.

  “The leader of the Order,” said Brian. “He was one of the first Newsight protestors. He even gouged out his eyes so they could never make him wear Lenses.” There was a far off, worshipful look in Brian’s eyes as he spoke. “Goodwin made THE SIM himself,” he continued. “It’s everything, all of Newsight’s secrets. It’s a hard sim, so it’s not stored on the Newsight network. It took him years to…” Brian trailed off. His eyes had drawn close and his head had turned to the side. He was watching something, something in his Lenses. After a few seconds of silence, he looked up.

  “My mom is outside,” he said. His voice had dropped to a whisper. “There’s someone with her.”