Gregg Hurwitz - The Program

Neos began picking up the Pros' cues, nodding and shouting agreement.

"Unemployed? Blame affirmative action. Poor and black? The man's holding you down. We can't possibly handle our own messes. We can't possibly forge our own solutions. People have no accountability, and it's sickening."

"Excuse me!" Reggie was standing on his chair, waving his arms.

TD stopped, jaw sagging.

"Why are you changing the temperature in the room?"

TD's eyes burned with a cold rage. He signaled for the lights to come up. "Okay. You've just stopped the entire colloquium." He folded his arms. "Are you happy with yourself? You agreed to no interruptions."

"Can you answer my question, please?"

"Hey, everybody, does it sound like this guy is Off Program? How do you feel about his ruining your -"

"Answer the fucking question!" Dray shouted.

TD's head pulled back. "Of course we're not altering the temperature."

"I brought a thermometer!" Reggie shouted, withdrawing it from his jacket pocket. "The temperature in this room has gone from seventy-four degrees to ninety-one degrees to -"

TD shaded his eyes, glaring at Reggie. "I know you. You're one of The Program's few rejects." One of the Protectors by the stage caught TD's eye. TD gave a tiny head shake and turned back to the crowd. "Now and then, people can't Get with The Program. They come apart the minute they're held accountable for -"

"I'd like to point out that rapidly altering the temperature is an unethical mind-control tactic!" Reggie shouted.

"He's a loser!" one of the Pros shouted.

And another – "Sit down and shut up! We want to get back to Growth."

"I think you've heard your answer, my disgruntled friend," TD said. "People are here to grow, not to complain. Keep your negativity to yourself so we can move on. What do you say, folks? What do you say?"

The Pros picked up TD's clapping, and some Neos joined in.

The lights faded again. TD adjusted his head mike, walking across the front of the dais, his profile cut from the rising footlights. "You think in the old days people had Claritin for allergies, antibiotics for infections, Band-Aids for scrapes? Hell no. In the old days, you got an infected tooth, you knocked it out with a rock. We've medicated ourselves into fragility."

Tim shouted out, "Why don't you disclose to everyone that you've had three felony convictions?"

Pros from all around the horseshoe shushed Tim severely. TD paused, glaring out at the darkness, then chose to continue. It took him a few moments to find his cadence again. "You are all extremely privileged to be attending the original Next Generation Colloquium. Today is the template for The Program's future, the launching pad for the biggest movement society has ever seen. From here we reach out to other states, to thousands of new people. And you should all be proud that you're part of this. You stepped up to the plate. You decided to seize control of your reality."

"So why are you altering our reality by putting relaxation supplements and manufactured hormones in the punch and cookies?" Dray yelled.

About twenty blue-shirts screamed at her to shut up.

Near the back someone shouted out, "What'd you put in our food?"

TD's face had taken on a bit of a shine in the lights. A single bead of sweat emerged from one of his sideburns. "Listen" – a pronounced swallow – "you can follow The Program and maximize…or you can stay mired in your Old Programming and be victimized." He strolled to stage right, his step resuming its bounce. "I can see that this group is all knotted up with control. You've got to let go if you want to grow. Now I'd like everybody to lie on the floor. That's it." On cue the heat began to blow. "We're going to do a guided meditation that will help us visualize our -"

Bederman rose abruptly. "Are you licensed to administer hypnosis in the state of California?"

Bederman's group leader crawled over and tugged at his pants to get him to lie down, but he slapped away her hand.

TD's jaw flexed. "We're not practicing hypnosis here. We're simply meditating."

Bederman cupped his hands around his mouth, projecting his voice. "Guided meditation is a form of hypnosis. Everyone in this room should know that."

TD's mike-enhanced voice overpowered Bederman's protests. "Your scare tactics aren't working on anyone here. All these people came for a reason. They've chosen growth. They can make their own decisions without your interference." The applause was scarcer this time around. "Now we're going to focus on our breathing and take a visit to our childhood."

"I've already been to my childhood!" the old guy in Tim's group shouted out, and a handful of people laughed.

TD's voice grew strained. "Clear your mind. This is your time."

"I'm not comfortable doing this," Tim shouted. "I'd like to refrain from this portion of The Program. Anyone who's not comfortable should know -"

"Lights up!" TD screamed. "Him. Out. He's obstructing all progress."

The muscle-bound thug whom Tim had brushed aside by the service elevator appeared at Tim's side. He gripped Tim's arms and hoisted him up, but Tim yanked himself free. The Protector who'd shot TD the inquisitive look earlier jogged over from the stage.

The others in Tim's group clamored around them. "Leave him alone."

The guy grabbed Tim again, and a group mobbed around them, moving with a sluggish, rhythmic energy.

"Get that victim out of here, Deano!" Sean yelled.

The air was damp and palpable, tinged with the smell of sweat and activated deodorant. Others were shouting from all around the horseshoe.

"This is bullshit! He's the only one telling the truth around here."

"He's Off Program. He's interrupting my process!"

TD's voice boomed through the speakers. "Sorry, my friend, but this is a victim-free zone. You'll have to take your negativity elsewhere."

Deano seized Tim, and Tim struck him once, hard, a right cross on the jaw. Deano staggered back and sat down on the floor.

Silence fell across Hearspace. The other Protector shook Dray's hands off his arm. Deano rubbed his jaw in disbelief.

Tim turned around to face TD across the crowd. "Rule Number Two: No leaving. No matter what."

TD seemed to weigh the costs of a physical display, his eyes taking note of the Protectors at their various posts. He fluttered a hand, and the lights went out. A brilliant flare lit him angelically onstage; a second, smaller spotlight fell over Tim. The lighting seemed more mechanical – Leah had plenty of reasons to be distracted right now.

"Since it's so important that your needs and fears are addressed, even to the detriment of all these people, I'm gonna give you the attention you crave." TD snapped his fingers, and, after a brief delay, a fall of light illuminated the row of empty chairs on the dais behind him. "I have a seat reserved for you right here on Victim Row. And guess what, Mr. Negativity? You get to be the only one up here. You can have all my attention so these people can see what a victim is truly made of, and then maybe, just maybe, we can move ahead with The Program. How does that sound? What's the matter? More objections?"

Tim squinted from his cylinder of light, absorbing the glowing chairs onstage, the silent rage emanating from dozens of unseen lackeys, the breath-held anticipation of the crowd.

"Do yourself a favor and sit back down." TD snickered and turned away. "Let's get on with The Program."

Tim's footsteps echoed off the ceiling. The spotlight followed him to the dais. The air breezing around him grew so cold his breath misted.

TD swiveled, watching Tim's approach over a shoulder.

Tim took the dais, his spotlight dissolving in the brightness, and sat in the middle chair. TD circled him appraisingly, mouth brushing the mike, not yet taking in Tim's face.