C James - Dome Six

She smoothed her hair back, reset her ponytail, and entered her class. Dee took her seat next to Vi and whispered something in her ear. Something like, “This ought to be good.”

Apart from those two, the rest of the kids wore the same vacant expression as always. Time to get them excited about learning again.

“Today we’re going to talk about history,” she said, her voice level and calm. The students reached for their tablets nearly in unison. IDA would connect her words to the students’ actions, so she let them navigate to their scheduled lesson. “Now leave that open and look at me. We’re just going to talk for now.”

The students eyed each other suspiciously as though it might be a trick. Tosh continued.

“My great grandfather used to say that history is written by the victors. It was a quote from the 20th century. Does anybody know what it means?”

She looked first to Dee, but she was still a bit pale. Only Vi’s hand went up, and hesitantly at that. Tosh nodded to her.

“I think it means that, like, there are two sides to every story. But if you fight and win, your side of the story is more likely to win, too.”

“That’s exactly right.” Tosh was pleased. Dee had lots of heart, but she was kind of a dreamer. Vi was pragmatic and perceptive. It was why they complemented each other so well. “So you and I fight about something and you win, which you probably would.” The class giggled a bit. A few of them even sat up and leaned forward — a rarity in her class. “Does that mean you were right and I was wrong?”

Vi bit her lip like she always did when she was thinking. She hadn’t nearly done it often enough. “I guess it depends.”

Tosh cocked an eyebrow and nodded. “It certainly does. Now let me give you a little scenario. Let’s say you are a leader of people. People need water to live, right? But it’s very scarce. Is it reasonable that you would want as much water as you could get your hands on?”

Slow, unsure nods. A bit of color returned to Dee’s face. Nothing like this was in the curriculum and they knew it. Maybe that’s why they were suddenly engaged. Philosophical dilemmas weren’t exactly a focus.

“Okay, now let’s say that I’m a leader of people, too. I also want as much water as I can get, for the same reason.” She held up her fists and shook each of them in turn. “So, two groups of people need the same resource. What’s going to happen? Talk it over. Five minutes should be enough.”

They stared at her, uncomprehending. The answer wasn’t immediately clear. They didn’t memorize it and it had nothing to do with harvesting potatoes or making clothes. But she didn’t let them off the hook. She just waited.

Finally, a student named Justin who she’d rarely seen move, let alone speak, leaned over and said something to his friend across the aisle. Before long, the entire class was engaged in an animated discussion. Her heart swelled and she smiled. When it was her turn in the Box, IDA might even select this moment to play back. Then again, maybe not.

After a few minutes, she clapped her hands and the class quieted back down. “Okay. What’s the verdict?”

Miraculously, Justin raised his hand. She called on him for maybe the third time ever.

“I think they would fight,” he said.

“Interesting. Why do you think that? Why wouldn’t they agree to just share?”

“Because that’s not what people do.”

Most everyone nodded in agreement. “Okay. Does anyone think these two groups would agree to share?”

Dee raised her hand. She would want them to share. Tosh nodded to her.

“I think they’d want to,” she said. “But I don’t think they really would .”

Tosh smiled. Maybe the girl was less naïve than she thought. “And why is that?”

“Because people need more than to just survive,” said Dee.

All heads turned to her, processing this in their own way for a moment, then they swiveled back toward her. She smiled and said, “Maybe they do, Dee. Maybe they do.”

Of course, the door to the Box didn’t open directly into some blood-spattered killing room. Not that Owen expected it would. The outer door just opened to an antechamber no bigger than a bathroom, with another heavy door behind it. The inner door probably opened only if the outer one was closed. It was impossible to see anything inside.

The scene would’ve been upsetting even if it hadn’t ended in Dek assaulting Authority guards and getting himself shot with a neurobullet. The Authority woman’s attitude toward the whole thing, his mom’s outrage — it was a disturbing combination of Authority phoniness and raw emotion. Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that.

Owen didn’t like to think about death, especially in the context of his father. He never knew his mother so talking to her Legacy was a comfort. A way to know who she was and what she cared about.

“Warning,” said IDA as he opened the door to their room. “Curfew hours are currently in effect.”

“Okay, Mom ,” said Aaron. “You ready?”

“Let’s go.”

Owen had snuck out during curfew a handful of times. The older you were, the less of a big deal it was. The Authority didn’t have the time or interest in going after anyone who was just out for a midnight stroll. The simulated moonlight came from all directions, virtually eliminating shadows. During the winter months, people who worked second shift came and went in this semi-darkness, almost never seeing the light of day.

As Elle promised, there were more patrols than usual. Owen and Aaron zigzagged their way through the Sectors in a way that IDA would likely interpret as random — just two young greenies out for a bit of hijinks after curfew. Nothing to sound any alarms over. That was the idea anyway.

The trucks that carried multimeal and human waste were virtually identical boxes on wheels. The oldest joke in the Dome was that the Authority was never quite sure which was which. Other trucks carried whole fruits and vegetables for Ration Rewards or delivered bundles of parts for the following day’s maintenance work. Authority EVs crept lazily down the Rads looking for their saboteur. Taken together, all this traffic made it exceptionally difficult to move about unnoticed. The city offered few places to hide anyway, made that much more difficult by the lack of shadows.

By the time the boys reached the Quietus Center it was almost 11. They’d done so much running and ducked down so many Arcs that they were drenched in sweat. The Exchangers ran more slowly at night, so the air was even more still than usual.

It was possible they’d already missed the pickup of Art’s body and that the mystery would remain unsolved. But if there was still a chance to learn the truth about the Box, Owen was all in. It felt good to break their rules.

The Arc that passed behind the Quietus Center continued across Rad 36 and behind Laundry 7. A pallet of chemicals sat behind it awaiting unloading by the morning crew, with just enough space between it and the wall for them to squeeze in. They were in there only a few minutes before an Authority EV glided silently past. Owen talked a big game in the Towers, but he was so seized by terror that he held his breath for several seconds. Thankfully, the vehicle kept moving.

He exhaled in relief.

“Geez, dude,” Aaron said, teasing him. “You need to relax.”

“You relax.”

They stood there sandwiched between the pallet and the wall for what seemed like an eternity. They weren’t near any clocks, but it had to be pushing midnight. He found himself nodding off on his feet. A tap on his hand roused him.

“Look,” said Aaron.

A small truck had pulled into the Arc behind the Box and stopped at the rolling door.