The Rebel Code

Chapter Seven - Part One

"Is that what you're wearing?"

I'm sitting on Mo's bed, practicing with the puzzle cube while she tries on outfits. A bunch of her friends in the neighborhood are kids of academy staff, so pretty much everyone has parents away tonight for the big safety meeting. Of course there's a huge party a few streets down, and of course Mo is going.

"I think it's perfectly nice," she says, twirling in front of her mirror. The outfit in question is a pair of shorts with more buttons than I can count, a jewel-tone top that ties across her chest, and a pair of gladiator sandals that rise all the way to her knees. She turns to me, hands on her hips, and models like a lady in a commercial. "I think I look quirky, but not weird quirky."

"Where is this party anyway? Ancient Egypt?" I tease.

"Oh, I wish. Ancient Egyptian women sometimes just didn't wear anything at parties. Normally I wouldn't even consider it, but in this humidity?" She rolls her eyes.

Outside, I hear an unfamiliar car horn, and Mo springs into action. I follow her down the stairs, and John and I say goodbye.

"I hate being the only one home," I complain, leaning against John's shoulder as we wave at Mo.

He laughs. "You've got Atticus, and there are meals in the fridge. As long as you don't set anything on fire, you're going to be okay."

I know people who still cook from ingredients—Malina's family can afford it—but we never do unless we're very, very bored. John once told me that before Criterion, almost everyone cooked from ingredients or just went to restaurants, but since the rise of protocol, it's easier to just follow the instructions on an instant meal box. John is very creative with his computers, managing whatever communications he does for the freeboots, but he is not creative in the kitchen.

"One more thing," he adds, glancing over at his bedroom door. "It's definitely not going to be necessary this late, but don't answer the door for anyone, okay? I'm transferring the last of my computer setup to the van, and it's all over the place in there."

"Got it."

"I know you do. You're a smart kid."

John brushes up his curly beard a bit, ties his tie, and I wave until his car is out of sight. Now, it's just me, Atticus, and the van.

John's tinkered with Atticus since we got him, mostly to keep him from reporting anything he sees to Criterion. He's basically an honorary freeboot, with all sorts of emergency programming that will keep us safe. He's also got some illegal software for strategy and critical thinking that make him fun to play chess with, but the chess board went in the van with most of everything else. Besides, he's changing a lightbulb right now, and I know better than to distract him during dexterity tasks ever since the incident with the lawn sprinkler.

I change out of my school clothes and into shorts and a mustard yellow shirt I don't like much, since all my favorite clothes are in my go-bag. I cook up some instant sausage and curry, and flip through TV channels until I find the Entertainment Channel's movies. Whenever there's a trend in what people enjoy, Criterion pushes it to the max for as long as it can, so right now everything's superheroes. I start enjoying a new series about a guy with hyper-intelligence fighting crime, until the third episode when the hero rescues his panicky girlfriend from a fortress of anarchists. The big boss villain gives a speech about taking the hero's intelligence and using it to cause chaos, and that's when I realize that this isn't just mindless entertainment. It's a metaphor for current events, and a metaphor that doesn't work well in my favor.

I didn't really want to watch TV anyway.

John was right. It's late, so it probably won't happen, but just to make sure no one decides to visit, I shut off all the lights and make it look like no one's home. The dark is calmer, and I can watch the firefly beetles from the window. I sit on the couch for an hour, probably, counting the little glowing beetles in the air and on the ground, watching them dance and twirl. It's mesmerizing, and I could fall asleep right on the couch.