Tonight, I was as guilty of conforming to his stark, unembellished image as everyone else. My tight black pants, low-heeled ankle boots, clingy dark top, and drab little vest made me look just like any other woman my age. I remembered playing with some of the dresses my mother had kept from her youth—clothing with integrated lights and materials that changed colors when you moved. They’d made me dream about laughter and parties until my despot father had found them and thrown them in the garbage. Neither Mom nor I had been allowed out of the house for a month, and from one day to the next, everything in our closets had been replaced by clothing of the Overseer’s choice.
“Citizens of the eighteen Sectors,” the Overseer began. “You live in a time of peace and prosperity. Of great discovery and progress. Despite that, there are still misguided people who would take from you your life of ease and security, who would destroy the orderly society we’ve worked tirelessly to build and shatter it into warring, lacking factions that can’t see past their own selfish wants and needs.”
Well. There would be no easing into it today, it seemed. Something must have royally pissed him off.
Losing a lab full of enhancers perhaps?
“You must root them out. Dig out and destroy this rotten fruit whenever you can.Whereveryou can.Every single one of youis responsible for protecting the life the galactic government has built for you.”
He paused to let that sink in, and it felt as though whatever passion and warmth was in the air got sucked right out of it as people froze, wondering if someone might point a finger at them next. It didn’t take more than a half-assed accusation to get carted off by the Dark Watch.
“Your personal choices reflect on who you are—and on what you can become.”
On that, at least, we agreed.
“Excess of any kind is to be avoided. Immoderation shunned.”
Funny how that didn’t apply to wealth, when some had so much and others not enough. Or to violence. I sure hoped the Overseer didn’t actually believe he set an example of restraint when it came to ruthlessness and brutality.
He pointed a finger right at us—at everyone across the entire galaxy. “Know. Your. Enemy.”
Oh, I did. It was him. The man who’d streamlined learning to eliminate the arts and chosen to censor books and other information, imprison protestors, kill dissenters, condemn lifestyle choices outside of his highly limited box, and blow up democracy to replace it with himself.
He went on for exactly five minutes, no more, no less, his main purpose seeming to be to remind people to control themselves—and others—to his satisfaction and to not hesitate to inform against their friends, neighbors, and whoever else. The subtext beingor else.
I listened, just like the citizens of Albion 5 around me, wondering how many people were buying into this, and how many people wanted to throw rocks at his gigantic face as badly as I did.
The screen finally went dark, but nobody moved at first, an odd push and pull in the air between the undercurrent of fear and the displays of allegiance as some people started clapping, forcing everyone to do the same or risk being singled out.
Some brave soul eventually took a step, and the city groaned back into motion after the Overseer’s latest speech. I dropped my eyes to my remote, got my crate moving, and started walking again, keeping pace with the other pedestrians and not letting on how shaken I was from seeing my father’s face and hearing his voice.
Everyone kept their heads down after that, and no one looked at me sideways. My hover crate could have contained a week’s worth of groceries for all anyone knew. I was just a person like anyone else.
No one stood out any more than I did, and I realized that we’d all perfected the art of blending in and avoiding notice. Maybe Hourglass Mile had nothing to do with it, because the whole galaxy was a freaking jail. Not everyone needed bars to be locked up, and what I saw around me was evidence of entire populations falling into complacency for the sake of personal peace.
Because there was peace—for most. It was drab, dry, and sterile, and often a little scary when the Dark Watch was around, but not everyone wanted to be washed in color, especially if it was the purple-yellow of bruises, or the red of blood.
A good portion of the galaxy had already tried that—and lost to Overseer brown.
Only the Dark Watch generals wore crimson now, and it was hard not to readmassacresinto that. I was pretty sure their uniforms were meant to remind the entire galaxy of how the war had finally ended with the near-total destruction of the Outer Zones.
The crowd that had gathered for the announcement thinned, and the overhead street lamps got brighter as I moved farther into Windrow, their cozy pale-yellow glow driving some of the darkness and anger from my thoughts. The neighborhood was tucking itself in for the night, with shops and businesses closing at street level and turning off their lights. The number of pedestrians steadily diminished, while small personal cruisers and public shuttles started accumulating overhead, their safety lights flashing and their engines droning with a calming buzz.
Turning a corner, I found myself alone on a quiet street and tilted my head back, watching the tall buildings brighten toward the tops. Windows were lighting up throughout the residential towers, blazing warmly as people returned from their jobs and settled into their home lives. A gentle breeze swirled down the street from behind me, and I drew in a breath that tasted of humidity and summer. We tended to forget about seasons on board theEndeavor.
Determined to enjoy the rest of my walk on such a warm, pleasant evening, I steered my crate around a bunch of cats all lazing on a quiet section of the sidewalk. They made me smile, even though the big dark-gray one eyeing me looked as though he would give me one hell of a fight if I disturbed them.
Cooking smells snuck down a side street and made my mouth water. A cat meowed. Music came from somewhere. It was too bad we had to leave Albion 5 so quickly. I wasn’t quite sure why exactly, but I liked this place better than I’d liked any planet in a while.
Maybe it was Susan and her devotion to old books, or the anonymity of a huge city, where I could both hide and get lost. Maybe it was the warmth and sunshine and the infinite adorableness of Bonk.
Or maybe it was Shade Ganavan, Space Rogue, the first man in ages I’d wanted to undress.
Walking steadily but without hurrying, I mulled over the disappointing unlikelihood of undressing Shade, given that he hadn’t made a single move in that direction the previous night. I’d thought he might, that he’d been about to, but then he’d gone quiet at the end of our outing and quickly dropped me off.
I would get over it. I’d certainly gotten over worse.
I eventually reached the bookstore and quietly knocked, since the lights were dimmed and the door was locked. Susan opened up for me, took one look at my large hover crate, and directed me around to the back.
