He leaned forward and wove his fingers together, looking at his hands. I looked at them too. He worked in construction. His hands showed the years of his trade, the scars, and the cracks. He was good at his work, but it was backbreaking and unreliable. I knew he wanted something different for me. He raised his eyes to mine. "You can make a difference in this world, Locke, but you have to be patient and determined and not let a few fears derail you. Focus on the goal and not on where the road is bumpy. It's rough for everyone at some point, but some people keep going and others give up. Don't be one of those who give up."
Is that what my brother did? Give up on his own dreams and theirs? I nodded, still wanting to give up but hoping my nod would make him leave. He squeezed my shoulder, but I could tell he was reading my mind. He knew me too well. He stood to leave and then paused at my bedroom door.
"Picture yourself five years from now, son. Where do you want to be? Remember that. Every day. That's how you'll get there. I believe in you, Locke. Your mother and I both believe in you. You can do this."
Picture yourself five years from now....
I look at the iScroll in my palm, the landscape I don't recognize, and the Bot who is driving me through it. I had tried to picture a lot of things that night, but I never pictured this.
Chapter 16
"Here we are," Dot says.
Our doors open automatically, but neither Kara nor I get out. We are at the end of the historic road. Ahead of us are remnants of Route 90 and where it once continued on into the city, but from this point, it is rubble and weeds.
"Don't worry," Dot adds. "About a half kilometer down, most of the road is there again. This was one of the invasion points." The invasion. How could Dr. Gatsbro not mention a small detail like the Civil War of 2112 and the dividing of the United States into two nations? Which United States are we stepping into? The Democratic States of America or the American United Republic? Kara joked that her geography was all blown to hell now. But she wasn't smiling. Neither was I.
"Go on," Dot says. "I'll meet up with you just where I told you. Oh--and if you are approached by any nasty Non-pacts, tell them you are Migration Security. With those clothes on, they'll believe you. And if they should close in, just pretend you're reaching for your Security tazegun. They'll scatter."
We can hope.
I begin to step out on one side, and Kara on the other.
"One more thing--"
We both gladly delay our departure.
"If for some reason I don't make it, will you remember my name? My whole name. Dot Jefferson. That's the name I gave myself. If you get in another Star Cab, tell them about me. The other drivers know my name. Not just the assigned DotBot#88 that Star gave me. What kind of name is that anyway?"
I look at Dot. She is only a Bot--a half Bot even--of wires and chips and programming. A DotBot#88, but whatever she is, she's helped us.
"It's no kind of name at all," Kara says.
And I add, "We'll see you again, Dot Jefferson."
She nods her head in her own peculiar way. "Good luck, Escapees."
The tone of her voice chills me. It holds hope like my mother's voice did when she sent me off to school in the new neighborhood.
We step out of the car and watch Dot wind her way back down the historic road, headed for the transgrid. When she is out of sight, we turn and look at the path ahead of us. The city lies just beyond it, but it doesn't look like the Boston I remember.
Chapter 17
The city doesn't sprawl like it used to. The landscape surrounding us that used to hold neighborhoods, streets, and factories has changed. It is eerily empty. It's like the city has rolled up its doormat into a tight ball. I don't feel welcome. We see a few developments in the distance, houses maybe, but forest has swallowed up most of the rest, covering up the scars of history like a green bandage. I knew the city streets. I don't know forests. Even with Dot's detailed instructions and the remains of a long-ago road, I feel lost already.
Francis Street, I tell myself. Just make it to Francis Street.
I look at Kara. She surveys the landscape too. She looks in both directions and briefly closes her eyes. I wonder if she's having second thoughts about leaving the safety of the estate.
"We were only property, Locke," she says, shaking her head. "We had to leave. I hate him for what he did."
It's hard to believe that just this morning we were parroting our lessons and Kara was calling Dr. Gatsbro our savior. He did save us, but does that give him the right to control the rest of our existence? Kara's rage becomes my own. The anger feels good, empowering; it squeezes out my fears. It's a better place to be.
We can do this together.
Kara stares at the city. "After two hundred sixty years we deserve this."
After two hundred sixty years. Every time she says that, a part of me dies all over again. The party, the car, it was all my idea. I pull her close and press my lips against her hair, breathing in her scent. Her arms tighten around me, and she presses her cheek against my chest. I feel her heartbeat, and I know she feels mine. Maybe now that we're away from the estate, we can finally have more. The more we deserve. More of eac