Internment(65)

“You saw all of us. Everyone was sitting at a table right in front of you. No one else was involved.”

“I’m not stupid, girl. I know there were others. What adults were involved? What else are they planning on having you do? Don’t protect them; they’re using you. If they were brave, they’d put themselves in the line of fire. Instead they’re using you as human shields, counting on children to do their dirty work. They are the real enemy here.”

“It really was just us. No one is planning anything else, sir. Believe me.”

The Director laughs. “Believe you. Yes, indeed. Now, these blog posts: Who is writing those stories? I know someone is smuggling them out of here. I thought it was you and your little Jewish boyfriend, but it seems like someone else now. So tell me. Tell me, and I can make life a lot easier for you and your parents here.”

“How exactly will you make life easier for us?”

“I heard one of your own people threw dirt on you,” he says.

“How did you—” I shut my mouth before I say anything more. Of course he knows. Saleem saw the old man throw that clod at me, and he did nothing but laugh. And obviously he dutifully reported it to Dear Leader. I bite my lower lip and stare at the ground. I don’t want to see the Director’s smug smile.

He continues. “And I assume you know about the threatening letters your parents received at their work assignments.”

I blanch and jerk my head up. No. I didn’t know, because my parents didn’t tell me. They probably think they’re protecting me—don’t want me to worry. My chest tightens. I see the Director reading my face. I’ve given it away.

“No? They decided to keep that from you? Lucky for you, I have eyes everywhere. Should I give you the details? About what they said they would do to your mother if you didn’t stop? What they would do to you? I can make sure your fellow internees know you are under my protection. I have access to certain luxuries here that I can make available to you. Like this pleasant, cool environment you’re enjoying right now. I’m sure your parents would appreciate it. You need to help me help you.”

I wrap my arms across my stomach. I feel like throwing up. I have no way of knowing if the notes are real. If the threats are real, or if they were planted by the Director to instill fear. In that case, it’s working. But I can’t let him see that. I can’t let him know that. The weaker I seem, the stronger he feels.

“Air-conditioning would be amazing, Director. But I don’t have any information for you. I don’t know anything about those blog posts. I haven’t even seen them. We can’t get the internet at Mobius, as you know.” I clench my clammy hands into fists to keep them from shaking, but I focus my mind’s eye on the Occupy encampment, their shouts and signs and raised fists. I hear Suraya’s voice in my head: “We’re with you.” And something like confidence grows inside me.

The Director looks past me to the two Red Cross observers who are documenting the conversation. “Miss Amin, let me be clear. Those news cameras outside, those protestors? They’ll leave soon enough. The observers behind you? That’s all they are: observers. Soon it will be just us again. Our little Mobius community. Isn’t it better that we’re all friends?” The Director bares his teeth in a menacing smile. “Try to keep that in mind, Miss Amin. Corporal Reynolds!” At the sound of the Director barking his name, Jake opens the door. “Corporal, escort Miss Amin back to her Mercury Home. We’re done. For now. I would tell you not to go anywhere, Miss Amin. But we both know you’ll be close by for a good long time, don’t we?”

I stand and turn to the observers and nod. The woman bites her lip, and the man looks away. I might have their sympathy, but sympathy isn’t going to set me free.





The next morning, Ayesha and I amble to our garden shift. As we walk, my brain swirls with the information the Director shared with me last night. Why wouldn’t my parents tell me about the notes? Are they even real? Did the Director make it all up—some kind of bizarre test to see if I’ll say something to them or hide what I know? My thoughts are too muddled. I can’t see anything clearly, and when I look up and out past the fence, I only see waves of a mirage displacing the desert plants and the mountains in the distance. Nothing is in its true place.

The heat makes everything slower, steps and thoughts included.

“What was that about yesterday, when Corporal Reynolds took you away?” Ayesha asks as we drag our feet forward. We saw each other at dinner, like we do every night, but with so many extra guards around, we’ve all been taking extra care to speak of nothing but benign things any time we’re in a group.

“The Director wanted to see if I’d cooperate.”

“With what?”

“He wants me to be an informer.”

“An informer? He already knows everyone who participated in the ‘Incident’”—Ayesha uses air quotes—“and he hasn’t hauled us away.”

“It’s the leaked stories. He thinks I know about them.”

“I suppose it tells us he’s not a total idiot.”

“He wants me to give up the organizers and tell him if anything else is being planned. Apparently, he thinks some adults are using us to forward their radical freedom agenda.”