Julia Karr - Truth

“Were you scared?” she asked.

“Not really.”

Chris glanced in the rearview, raising his eyebrows.

I looked away, not planning ever to admit how terrified I’d been.

When we got back to our new home, I put Gran and Pops’s things in the room they would eventually share. I was being as positive as I could be about Pops’s eventual release. Dee was busy arranging her clothes in the huge dresser in her room. We could’ve fit everything—hers, mine, and our grandparents’ clothes—in those drawers and still had room left over.

My room was beautiful. Like most everything in the apartment, the bed was antique. Solid, warm, and comforting. I loved it. I was putting away my clothes when there was a tap at the door.

“Hope you don’t mind that I let myself in,” Wei said. “I won’t do it after your grandmother comes home.”

“I’m sure she wouldn’t care,” I said. “Besides, it is your house.”

“Don’t be ridiculous! This”—she threw her arms wide—“is your house now.”

My room was luxurious by any standards. “You know, it’s going to take some getting used to. And in a way, I don’t want to get used to all these beautiful things.” I knew Wei wouldn’t understand what I meant as soon as the words were out of my mouth, and her quizzical look confirmed that. “I don’t mean that I don’t want to feel like they are… well, not mine, but you know…” I could tell she didn’t. “Look. This—everything here—can all be taken from me in a nanosec. Everything. I mean, even my family can be taken away from me. This stuff, it’s not mine. It belongs to your family. I’m a tier-two girl who might get something better someday, but only if I work really hard and get lucky. I’ll never be up in your stratosphere.”

“You know . . .” Wei whisked one of my T-shirts from the bed and began folding it. “You have got to get over this tier crap. You think way too much about it. I’ve told you before, it means absolutely nothing to me. Period. Okay?” She laid the shirt on top of the others in the drawer.

I sighed. It meant nothing to her, but that didn’t mean it meant nothing to everyone else in the world. I resigned myself to the fact that she, like Sal, might never understand where I was coming from. “Sure.”

“Listen, I came down because Dad wondered if you’d mind talking with him now. He needs to know everything you know about all that’s happened to your grandfather and about the writ. He said to bring the arrest papers.”

I took the order for Pops’s arrest out of a folder. As we went by Dee’s room, I let her know I’d be across the hall. She was on her PAV, chatting away with her friends.

Across the hall, Wei and I stood in front of Mr. Jenkins’s desk while he read both papers. “I heard you made a trip down to Bureau headquarters today. Did they let you see your grandfather?”

“No.” I couldn’t help turning red. The tone of his voice registered his disapproval. Wei gave me an admiring glance, which made me feel a little less guilty of recklessness. “They did log in the meds, though. So I guess they took them to him.”

Mr. Jenkins made notes on a digi-pad. His voice softened. “How is your grandmother doing?”

“She got upset about the eviction. The doctor had her sedated. Before that, she looked much better.”

“Her doctor is Silverman, right?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem to like low-tiers very much.”

Mr. Jenkins tapped his rapido on the table. “I don’t think he likes anyone very much. There’s no denying he’s a brilliant physician, but… I’m not sure what kind of person he is.” He projected a page from his PAV onto the desk. It looked kind of like the genealogy charts we’d studied in Personal History and Health when I was in fifth grade.

“What’s that?” Wei asked.

“Dr. Silverman’s career path. He’s been on the Resistance watch list for a while.” Mr. Jenkins studied the graphic. “See here?” He pointed to a line on the projection. “He was head of research at Utar Seriosus Research and Development, before moving to Chicago as head surgeon for Metro.”

It sounded as if I should understand the significance of that information, which I didn’t at all. “What does that mean? What’s Utar Seriosus?”

“He went from being top man at a prestigious research-and-development laboratory to taking a job at an inner-city hospital that specifically treats low-tier and welfare citizens. Utar Seriosus is where the Infinity machine was invented. They were rumored to be working on a cure for the Ocri virus.”

“Wouldn’t that mean the miners on Mars could come back to Earth when their time was up?” Wei asked. Being sent to the prison mines on Mars was nearly a death sentence, since few if any escaped being infected with the Ocri virus while there. Once infected, they could never return to Earth.

“Yes,” her father agreed. “But there are people who would prefer that never happened.”

“Why?” I asked.

“There’s not enough money in the research end of it. The possible users of the drug are limited to ocribundan miners. Men who aren’t even at the bottom tier, but way below that. Most of them are criminals who were given a sentence of labor on Mars or death.”

“I thought some were just low-tiers who went off to work and send money home to their families.” My stomach clenched as I thought of Joan. Part of the information Ginnie’d uncovered about FeLS was that girls, like Joan, who broke down during sex training were sent to Mars as “wives” for the miners. “Are they all… murderers?”

Mr. Jenkins pressed his fingertips together, pursing his lips. “Many are nonrehabilitatable criminals who, for a variety of reasons, would be better kept far from America’s society. Some are people who fared poorly during reassimilation. And more than a few of them are NonCons or Resistance sympathizers.” He dropped his gaze.

I got a sick feeling in my gut. “People you know?”

“Yes.” He clicked off the projection, clearing his throat.

“I don’t get it. Why don’t they just send the criminals to a prison station?” Wei asked.

“Someone has to mine ocribundan, or we’d have no fuel. Without a cure, no regular people would do it. The symptoms of the Ocri virus are eventual debilitating pain and gradual loss of motor skills, followed by an excruciating death.”

“But if they could find a cure for Ocri, then anyone could go work there,” I said.

“I know it seems that simple and humane,” he said. “But the current system is much more convenient and a permanent solution for the Governing Council.”

“Do you think Dr. Silverman found a cure?” I asked.

“I doubt it,” Mr. Jenkins said. “But the thought has crossed many Resistance minds that he must have been very close to have been removed from Utar and sent to Metro. Something of a sentence for him, no doubt.”

I couldn’t help being grateful that someone as skilled as Dr. Silverman was at Metro to, hopefully, have saved Gran. Although now, the seed of the tragedy of those miners—many who didn’t deserve their exile, and none who deserved being infected with Ocri—was sown. I wouldn’t forget it.

Mr. Jenkins picked up the papers I’d given him. “Nina, unfortunately, neither Mrs. Jenkins nor I will be able to go with you to the meeting at the Bureau on Monday. Since it’s not a hearing, I’m sure you’ll be okay. In all likelihood they will merely give you further instructions as to charges against your grandfather and an anticipated trial date. But as far as the unsuitability hearing,” he said, “Mrs. Jenkins will be able to accompany you to that.”