Julia Karr - Truth

“Hey, Dorrie, it’s Nina. Can we talk about Rogue Radio and vid interruptions?”

Dorrie lived in an apartment with her dad. Her mom had run off to New York with a maintenance guy. Dorrie had never heard from her again. I guessed that was probably for the best. She and her dad looked like they were doing all right. They were tier three; he was a production grower at the Chicago Botanical Gardens, and their apartment was full of plants. He was also a NonCon.

“So”—I handed her a tube of my drawings—“here they are. You think you can do something with them?”

She spread out the pictures and studied them, scrunching up her mouth and tipping her head from one side to the other. “Hang on. Let me get my recorder.”

Half an hour later, she had recorded all the images and was already selecting music to go along with the program she was imagining.

“This will be brilliant, Nina. I don’t get to do nearly enough vid interruptions. I’m thinking right in the middle of Vacation Destinations of the Ultra-Riche . What do you think?”

“Perfect.”

On the way home, I hatched up a further plan and called Wei. “Can you meet me in fifteen minutes downstairs?”

When I walked in, Wei had Dee in a headlock on the living room floor.

“What are you guys doing?”

“I was teaching Dee some Cliste Galad moves. She asked…”

“I’m going to learn it.” Dee stood up. “I need to get back to the kitchen. Chili tonight.”

“Dee is so cool,” Wei said. “It won’t be long before you have to tell her about the Resistance. She’ll figure it out if you don’t. Or she’ll accidentally let something slip.”

“I know,” I said. “I’m not exactly sure how to tell her. I’ll figure it out. Listen, come to my room.”

I unrolled the drawings on my bed. “What do you think?”

“Like I said before, your sketches are as powerful as your dad’s speeches.”

“Well, what would you think if we, as Pops used to say, ‘painted the town,’ so to speak?”

“What are you talking about?”

I told her about Dorrie creating a vid interruption. “She’s going to broadcast it during that show about ultrarich vacationers. I was thinking, what if we posted these around town? We’d have to do it after dark.”

“And we’d need a getaway trannie. I wish I could drive.” She drew her fingers across her chin. “I’d say Sal or Chris, but I don’t want them to be part of this. This is for the Sisterhood.”

“Yeah,” I agreed. I thought back to how I had left things with Sal the night before. He hadn’t tried to call me, and there were no messages on my PAV either.

“What about Paulette? Would you hate that?”

Yes. But I didn’t say so. “Not if you promise not to talk about Sal. Or her party.”

“I promise.” Wei held up her hand. “So, what’s going on with Sal. You’re mad at him, huh?”

I gave her the short version of my previous night’s conversation with Sal.

“Guys can be so ridiculous when it comes to realizing that girls are just as capable as they are. And women are as good of fighters as men. Fems did have control of the country for nearly fifty years.”

“Yeah, I know.” I didn’t mention that the Fem government had been completely swallowed up, without any kind of fight, by the Governing Council.

Mom had said that Media influence undermined the effectiveness of the Fems by implying they hated men. It didn’t matter that many of the Fem leaders were wives and mothers. Media began broadcasting subtle anti-Fems messages, combined with bombardments of verts glorifying the sexualization of women and teen girls and implying that the only strength women had was in their sexuality. Eventually, the tide turned, and the GC took over and partnered with Media. Leaving women and girls as mere sex objects.

“Nina, Sal can be reasoned with,” Wei said. “I’m sure it’s because he’s so crazy about you that he worries something will happen to you. That’s the excuse my dad uses, at least.”

“What about your mom? Doesn’t he worry about her?”

“Do you think my mother would let anyone stop her from doing anything she wants?”

Knowing Mrs. Jenkins, I chuckled. “Nope.”

“Dad’s figured that out, too.” She shifted to face me. “So have you tried calling Sal?”

“No, and I’m not going to. I don’t know what I’d say to him. I hate that he’s out there, doing NonCon whatever and is in danger of being discovered, and we left everything so badly.”

“So call him. Now.”

I thought about it. It didn’t matter how angry I was, I loved Sal. I didn’t want it to end; I just wanted him to understand how I felt. I picked up my PAV, then put it down.

Finally, I picked it up again and sent him a message: “Sorry I got mad. I love you.”

I turned to Wei. “You want to call Paulette?”

After a short PAV conversation, Wei said, “Eight o’clock tonight. I’d better get upstairs and practice piano. See you later. Wear black.”

“I’m going out with some friends for a bit,” I told Dee.

“No problem,” she said. “Miss Maldovar sent me a message to call her when I could. She wants to talk about the first week back after break.”

What was it about that woman that bothered me? I went out into the foyer to wait for Wei, and called Dorrie. “Can you find out information on people, like family backgrounds and such?”

“Sure,” Dorrie said. “It might take a while, but it can be done. Who is it?”

“Adana Maldovar,” I said. “My sister Dee’s teacher.”

“I’ll see what I can find. By the way, I showed Brie what we worked on. She’s impressed.”

I was glad she hadn’t asked me why I wanted the info, because I wouldn’t have been able to come up with a good answer. But there was something, of that I was sure.

Thank goodness Paulette didn’t show up in her dad’s stretch transit. I was surprised that the trannie she had was so unassuming.

“What exactly are we doing?” Paulette asked. “All you said was that we had a mission.”

“Can we talk in here?” Wei asked.

“Yeah. Sal took care of this one. We use it a lot.”

I held my tongue. Sal had told me he wasn’t interested in her—that should be good enough. Of course, the little voice in my head insisted, that was before you told him off and hung up on him. I didn’t have time to listen to that—what we were planning was important.

“We’re doing a little art show.” Wei uncovered the copies of my drawings that she’d made. “You drive, I’ll be the lookout, and Nina will post her sketches.”

“This should be fun.” Paulette eased the trannie into gear. “Where to first?”

“State Street,” Wei said. “Mag gave me seven locations where she knows the surveillance cameras are down.”

Our first stop was on State Street, near the Chicago Omniplex. Paulette pulled into the alley, and Wei and I hopped out. I secured two posters, one facing north, one south; Wei watched out for passersby. That one was easy.

We nearly got caught on Oak Street when a doorman told Paulette she couldn’t park where she’d stopped. I had to admit, though, she was smoother than smooth. Not only did she talk him into allowing her to stay, but he said if she ever needed free parking downtown while he was on duty, he’d find her a spot in the hotel lot. I was sure I saw her give him a tip card, too.

The other five stops were quick and easy. After the last one, we drove back by the first location to see if they were still there. They were. And they’d drawn a crowd. We didn’t dare go by the one on Oak, for fear the doorman might recognize Paulette’s trannie. A Media van was stopped at the third one—which was across from the Justice Building. The crew was taking pictures.