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This insult made me sink back a bit. Let alone was it coming from Mikkel, he'd also used a word that I'd heard before - one that troubled me. "Wait. What do you mean by that?"

"By what - 'programmed'?"

"Yeah."

"Well, basically, it means exactly what it sounds like. A while ago, they had me studying psychological phenomena, wanting to show me how easily the masses could be moved to act out with violence (moved to do anything really), and I came across it in one of the books. They were working with me closely at the time, and I only had about a minute to skim a section that I wasn't assigned, but that was enough. The section was about exactly that: programming people.

"Simply put, if you want to change someone's beliefs, especially if those beliefs are against the opinions a person has already formed - or against their logic, or nature - then there's only one way to do it; you have to isolate them for a period of time, away from any kind of outside influences. Then, once the person is inside this 'mental vacuum', they're simply shown over and over again that the failure to comply with the new way of thinking results in negative consequences (like being ostracized for the rest of their days), while the changing of their thoughts to
match
the new belief system, results in positive outcomes (like the chance for a life of freedom and a grand adventure). Any of that sound familiar to you?" he asked, dryly.

"Yeah... but... no... wait, it's not the same. We're being asked to question. That's the difference."

"Are we really though? I mean - I know that's what they say, but do you honestly feel like you're encouraged, or even
allowed
to express your qualms about The Goal?"

It took me a few seconds of hesitation to answer this, "No. I guess not."

"See?"

"But... I always thought that that was because we
needed
some guiding. I mean - we're dealing with something here that the very structure of our body is trying to steer us away from, something that our minds would do anything to keep us from seeing, all out of the fear that it's true."

"Yeah, but... couldn't it also be that our minds and bodies sense that it's a bad idea simply because - well - it's a bad idea?"

I didn't respond. I needed time to think about these things. True, he had some good points, but this, more than anything else, was only frustrating to me. After I'd already painstakingly worked it all out, after I was sure that I'd set everything in its rightful place, suddenly, it felt like I was being asked to dive deep into my mind again, to scrape at the quiet seabed there, to disturb the sediment, cloud the water. He was complicating things.

After watching me for a few seconds, my eyes searching the sky above the water, Mikkel cut in, "Trust me, I know what you're thinking. You're wondering what's true and what isn't - all of it; the things I just said, the Elders, yourself. I know because sometimes my head is a complete mess as well. Everything gets jumbled; the things that I used to think and believe get mixed up with the things that were drilled into me, and sometimes I can't tell them apart anymore." He looked down at the ground and picked a twig out of the grass, holding it in front of him and staring at it. "Which is exactly why I wish I'd known about the possibility of programming people
before
I went into the shelter. Maybe it would have kept all those complicated issues in perspective, or at the very least, maybe I'd feel more convinced that the views I have are actually mine."

I wanted to say something to respond to this, but didn't really have anything to offer. And this was fine, because Mikkel had looked away, and was quickly getting lost in his own thoughts, which led me to do the same. For the most part, I was having a hard time imagining how a person could infiltrate someone else's ideas and re-wire them. And the more I tried to think of ways that it might be possible, the more it didn't seem all that realistic to me. I mean - yes, I understood that one's
influences
could be controlled, but I also knew that exactly how those influences were interpreted, couldn't be. Because when we do this interpreting, when we sort through the skewed information around us, keeping only what we think is accurate and discarding the rest, no one is there to see what we throw away, no one hovers beside us, sieving through our ideological trash heap, frantically shoving the scraps back into our heads while we're not looking. We are alone at night when we stare into the space above our beds, contemplating the events of our day. And if you think about it this way, in many respects,
we
are our greatest influence; because as much as people might try and shape us, we always have the last say as to how that moulding fits.

Whereas Mikkel seemed to think that the Elders could have complete control over our minds, that everything they'd revealed about the truth of humanity was really some kind of clever scheme designed to mislead us. He'd said 'if' the history books were right -
if
. Did he really think that the endless supply of texts and photos (some of which were so tattered and old that they
had
to have been written before The Goal was ever conceived of) were all conjured up from nothing? If so, how could he rationalize that? Because even if he managed to ignore the supposed 'forgeries' of our education, what about the examples that we drew from the world around us, or from our very selves, how did he suppose the Elders manufactured those?

I shook my head. Yes, the more I thought of it, the more I was becoming annoyed with this conversation. What exactly did he expect to come out of it; did he think I was going to overturn my entire belief structure to match his, which, at best, was an exceptionally lazy one?

I'm afraid that, when I finally spoke, I didn't do a great job of hiding the impatience in my voice, "Mikkel, this is all good and well, but... really, whether our beliefs are ours, theirs, or something in between, I can't say it really matters much anymore. I mean - the ball's been rolling for a long, long time now. There's not really much we can do about it."

As if in response to this, he leaned in to squint at the stick in his hand, seeming to imply that the few colourful dots of fungi on it were more worthwhile than my pathetic attitude. "Yeah. I could see how you might think that - sort of. But it's not quite right. Because there is something we can do."

"Like what?" I sniggered.

He turned toward me at that point, and I'll never forget the expression on his face when he did. He was biting the nervous flesh on the inside of his cheeks, looking me over, weighing out whether or not he could continue, whether or not he was going to allow, what had until that point been a forbidden conversation, to fumble over a dangerous line that couldn't easily be re-crossed. And for whatever reason, after the few pensive seconds it took, he decided he could. "Well - I'll tell you what we can do."

He shifted his weight to get more comfortable, casting a quick glance at the spot where the trail entered the clearing before he began. "Okay. Let's start with what we know: we know that we're competing to be the leader of the expedition, and that, after that leader's chosen, another five to maybe eight of us will be selected as the crew. We know that the leader will probably either be you, Peik, or myself, as we're the only ones that would really have the right skills for it. That means that - almost
guaranteed
- one of us three will have access to the boat before it leaves, authority over the crew, and the trust of the Elders. We can also assume that the ship they'll give us will be the largest sailboat on the island, because it's the only one that's really seaworthy anymore; which means that once we leave, no one will be able to come after us. Ever.

"Now, they haven't actually said it, but it sounds like the two of us who aren't chosen as the leader, will have to stay behind. Not the greatest of prospects, is it? So, the three of us would have quite an incentive to work together in order to get what each of us individually wants, which is obviously to go on the expedition as well."

"So... all of this is to say that you think we should find a way to smuggle the two of us, which aren't chosen to lead the expedition, onto the ship?"

"Um... not really. I just wanted to point out that the two who aren't chosen would automatically have the incentive to secretly get on board. What I'm trying to say is that, if the three of us agree to do something like that, then we might as well smuggle two
other
people onto the ship as well. Two people who have the potential to change the future of everything."

"I... don't really follow." But the truth was that I didn't really want to. I'd risked a lot to come and meet with him, sneaking through the trees, looking over my shoulder as I veered off of my exercise route - and for what? To listen to him natter about mind control, 'changing' the future, and herding an entire line up of people onto a ship while the Elders supposedly had their backs turned. It was a bit ridiculous. And was only becoming more so.

"I can't believe you haven't pieced together the potential here," he said, almost sounding offended. "Okay... you
have
already figured out that our Incision is actually a sterilization operation, right?" I nodded. "Good. And I also imagine that you've picked up - from the way the Elders talk about what the expedition will come across - that there probably isn't anyone left in the world, let alone people who'll be able to bear children. So, from what we know, there isn't anyone, anywhere, who has the possibility of carrying on our species,
except
- if you think about it - two. The only children on the island who haven't had their Incision yet."

I was squinting. "Anu and Siri?"

"Exactly. Anu and Siri. If all three of us agreed to work together, I'm
convinced
we could figure out a way to get them on board."

I leaned away from him, speechless, my eyes busily searching his face. It was almost impossible to believe what had come out of his mouth, and I wondered if he had even
begun
to grasp the implications of the words he'd chosen. Though, I have to admit, that seemed unlikely. "So... let's get this straight, Mikkel. What you're proposing to do here is exactly -
exactly
- the opposite of what everyone on this island is
alive
to do. You understand that that's what you're talking about, don't you?"

He nodded slowly, "Yes. I understand that that's what I'm talking about. I understand that I'm talking about saving our race, about ending this insanity of killing ourselves. I'm talking about giving us a future again, Joshua."

"And... you don't think there would be some
serious
repercussions to that; you don't think, after generations of preparation for this, that they just might have some kind of contingency plan for something along those lines? I mean - think of it: soldiers were trained on this island. You've seen the weapons in the books! Wouldn't it make perfect sense if they had some of those buried somewhere in the shelter?" As I said this, already, images of what might happen were flashing through my mind. I could see the commotion, the scrambling of bodies in and out of buildings as they realized there was a critical breach of some kind, the screams, the waves of people fanning out toward us, the swinging of metal through the air, the hollow thudding sound that weapons might make as they slashed through our rib cages. I could picture our hands uselessly cupping open wounds, trying to stop the deluge of blood streaming from them, our eyes wide open, fingers soaking red.

Gee. Seemed like a great idea.

As soon as I started speaking, everything in Mikkel's mannerisms changed, his eyes dropping to the ground, his posture becoming a disappointed slouch. And when I stopped, he tossed away the stick he'd been holding with an aggressive throw, and then settled back, leaning onto one of his elbows. "Yeah. You're probably right," he'd suddenly agreed, adjusting his weight, getting comfortable, as if knowing that I'd have a lot more to say. And I did.

"Of course I'm right! And think of it: those would just be the
immediate
consequences. What if this 'seamless plan' that we would supposedly invent actually worked? What if a few of us managed to survive the drama of getting off the island, and could sail the two children to a mainland; what then? I mean - let's just imagine for a second that the Elders are even
partly
right about what they say? Could you honestly go to sleep at night knowing that we were single-handedly responsible for the second coming of a species that would proudly bring the abuse of power back into the world - and greed, and suffering, and oppression? Think about how far those upshots would be felt, how many centuries you would expose to war and genocide, how many other species would become extinct, how much more of the earth would be irreparably ruined. You really want all that on your head?"

"No," Mikkel answered, shaking his head at himself, his voice shrinking even more. "I know. I mean - you're right. You're absolutely right." He was relaxed, all of his frustrated energy having drained away. "And the crazy thing is: I even know where these ideas of mine come from. It's my brain stem, my survival instincts trying to override what I know is true. It's exactly what they say we should look out for: my mind over-rationalizing things, allowing me see what I want to see - all that stuff." He lifted a hand against the sun and looked out at the ocean. I joined him, and after concentrating for a few seconds, realized we could hear the waves murmuring against the shore far below. "Yeah," he concluded, after a thoughtful pause, "it's a stupid idea - the whole thing."

"Yeah, it is," I agreed, trying not to sound too harsh. Because the truth was, I could see where such an idea could come from, how appealing the thought must have been to him at first glance; the three of us meeting in secret, organizing ourselves, skirting behind buildings to listen for where the two children would be the day we left, all of us, drunk with the illusion that we were going to change the future of the world, do something 'good' to mend what 'bad' people had wrecked. But the reality was obviously something very different, and to me, the mere thought of us huddled in the shade of the trees, serious whispers hissing under the leaves like snakes, was enough to make my stomach turn. We weren't children anymore. We knew better now.