The Collective

Chapter 2: Back to Baker

I don't enjoy taking the bus—especially not to Baker—but bodyswapping's off the table. It isn't about the cost, this time; it's about the company. I'm running late to meet my brother, but showing up in someone else's body isn't an option. He's told me if I ever show up as anyone but myself, he'll refuse to see me. Which is ridiculous because I'm still me, even if I'm in a different body.

But that's the kind of logic you can expect from a ludd. They're always ranting about souls or individuality or bodily autonomy; it's always something. I've just learned it's easier to pretend like I'm not even part of the Collective when I'm around Leo.

Two years ago, when he turned eighteen, I tried for months to get him to join the Collective, but by then he was already too brainwashed by the ludds. Deep down, I know I failed him. It's not his fault. He was a baby when Mom was killed and only sixteen when Dad died.

Once Dad was gone, it was all downhill for Leo. That same year, he dropped out of high school and really started mixing with the ludds from Baker. I was already out of the house, and I should've taken him in, but I was in my early twenties, and I didn't want my little brother hanging around. I thought the ludd thing would be a phase and he'd be ready to join the Collective in a few years, but that never happened. He stayed in Baker, and I really only ever come here to visit Dad's grave once a month.

The bus pulls up to the stop closest to the cemetery, and I jump out. Even though I spent nearly twenty years in this neighborhood, it doesn't feel like home. It's never felt like home. The road is cracked, and dilapidated buildings push themselves onto the thin, uneven sidewalk. The air smells dirty, and I expect to see swarms of flies buzzing around piles of rotting trash, but the streets are surprisingly clear of litter. I hug myself, even though the heat is still stifling, and make a brisk pace to the cemetery.

Leo is already there, his large frame standing in front of Dad's grave. Mom is buried right next to him, but I'm not here for her. She didn't care about us when she was alive, so why should we care about her when she's dead? I'm pretty sure Leo visits both our parents, but I'm fine with just visiting Dad.

He's the one that cared for us. He's the one that raised us. When our parents lost their jobs from the nearby Smith Capital factory shutting down, it was Dad who found more work. It was Dad who kept us afloat. All Mom did was spiral. She complained about how unfair life was and got drunk, until eventually she was killed by the police. She traded her life for some cheap liquor and a pack of diapers. Leo was too young to remember any of it, but I did. And I felt no need to visit her grave.

The cemetery isn't well cared for. The grass is dry and brittle, and the fence needs a fresh coat of paint. Most of the headstones, however, are clean and polished. I walk over to Leo and give him a quick hug. Although I'm taller than him—by just an inch—my body feels fragile next to his. I'm not a thin woman, but Leo is stout and muscular, a result of a physically demanding job, I assume. We don't see each other much, and if it weren't for these visits to Dad's grave, I have a feeling we'd eventually grow apart. Even in death, Dad's still keeping the family together.

We stand in silence for a bit, just staring down at Dad's grave. God, I miss him. Everything got so much more complicated once he passed away. We'd known he was sick for a while. We tried to get him to a doctor, but he refused. A lot of people who worked at the factory had gotten the same cancer, and none of the expensive treatments had helped them, so Dad didn't want us to waste our money. No need for us to go into debt just for him to die anyway, he'd said.

I'd yelled and screamed at him when he refused to get help, but I eventually gave in. That's not how I wanted to spend our remaining time together. So, I shut my mouth and stuck by his side, watching him get weaker and sicker. When he finally passed, I hated that I felt relieved. Devastated, but relieved. It was finally over. We could move on. Things could go back to normal.

But they never did. I started my life, and Leo just stayed here, stuck in Baker like so many others. I'd failed Leo once, but I was determined not to do it again.

"I started a new job this week," I tell Leo as we make our way to a nearby bench. "I'm working for Warren McKinsey." Leo scoffs as he sits down, and I see the disdain on his face. He knows I've always wanted to get into politics, always wanted to be part of the solution, not the problem. But that's never stopped him from telling me exactly how he feels about my goals.

"And how's that cushy office of his? Better than the underfunded slums we're in?" I roll my eyes and laugh, but a tiny flame of anger burns in my chest. Why can't he just be happy for me?

"Not everyone lives in the slums," I say. "Just because Baker refuses to fix itself doesn't mean everyone in the city is the same." He huffs and his body tenses. I know it's not fair to attack Baker like that, but I want Leo to realize there's more to life than this neighborhood. Things are better outside Baker.

"And what exactly is McKinsey's plan to help Baker?" Leo asks, turning to me. "Or has he conveniently forgotten we're still part of the city?"

"Actually," I say before I can think, "he's mentioned wanting to help ludds." A vein bulges in Leo's temple.

"I highly doubt he wants to help us."

"He does," I say, more defensive of McKinsey than I thought I'd be. I need to show Leo there's life beyond being a ludd, that you can do good things and be part of the Collective.

"Like what?" Leo challenges, glaring at me. His eyes are brown like Mom's, but he has the same strong, broad nose as Dad. I turn away.

"I just started," I say," so I don't know the specifics. But he told me himself that he wants to help." Leo scoffs again and a scowl darkens his face.

"McKinsey doesn't know the first thing about what we need," he says. He digs his worn boot into the hard ground. I feel like he's building up to something, so I sit silently, picking at the flecked paint on the bench. "Do either of you even know what's happening here?" Leo asks, looking at me and gesturing around him, to the neighborhood. There are plenty of problems with Baker, so I don't know what he's talking about. I wait for him to continue. "Ludds are going missing, Selene." His eyes are squinted, and it's the first time in a long time I've seen him express anything besides anger or contempt. He's concerned. Worried.

"What do you mean?" I ask, careful with my words. It's not uncommon for ludds to go missing; lots of them are homeless, so I assume they're fairly transient. Leo's face hardens, as if he can see my doubt, and he turns away again.

"Forget it," he mumbles. I reach out to grab his arm, to tell him I want to know what's going on, but he stands up before I can. I want to tell him to leave Baker and come live with me. I want to hug him, to tell him I'm sorry for leaving him behind, for not being the big sister he needed me to be. But instead, I stay seated. I don't know how to fix this. Fix us. Leo and I live in different worlds, and no matter how hard I try to get him to come to mine, it never works.

"I have to go," he says, still not looking at me. His voice is flat. I stand up from the bench, wishing he would face me, but he doesn't.

"I love you," I say, my voice soft. I feel drained.

"Love you too," he says before slinking away. I can feel his disappointment. Years ago, when Leo first told me he never planned on joining the Collective, we used to argue all the time. We'd scream and yell and try to convince the other to see our point of view until we were red in the face. But lately, that anger has turned to apathy. Neither of us has the energy to fight anymore. Leo won't be able to convince me that the Collective is bad, and I'm not sure he'll ever see how much better life is not being a ludd. The absence of emotion is almost more exhausting than the shouting matches, like a void absorbing all the energy in my body, sucking our relationship dry.

I head toward the cemetery's exit, unsure how much longer Leo and I will be in each other's lives.