World-Mart (28 page)
“Hey!” someone whispered.
She turned with a gasp, but saw no one. Her chest went uncomfortably tight as she listened vigilantly over the cold, unrelenting wind outside. She checked all of the nearby doors, surprised to find them unlocked. She slipped into her old classroom, relief hitting her as the door closed behind her and the room’s central heating warmed her body.
She moved to the dry-erase board and read the lesson for the day. Not impressed, she wiped it clean and decided that a replacement lesson was in order. She found a permanent marker, tested it to make sure it was in good working order, and then proceeded to cover every inch of the white board with a dark, cryptic poem she had previously perfected in her head. A close reading of the poem would reveal many depressing truths to humankind and society, offering its readers a much more realistic approach to their day:
Compassion drains from the masses
like blood from a pierced heart;
a dark shroud blankets over them
like black wool over their eyes.
The beast’s tale shines as truth
and the serpent eats the worm;
hellfire crashes down as snow
and they dance amidst the ashes.
Where does the truth lie?
They come to worship death
as the demon slowly sucks them dry;
a choir of sirens takes the flock
as they sing, “holy, holy, holy.”
Black hearts wrapped in white silk
that stain everything they touch;
they merge into a gluttonous monster
that slowly devours the world.
Where does the truth lie?
Where does the truth lie?
She wrote slowly and carefully, so that every word was straight and legible. She couldn’t stand it when people wrote on a white board with that accidental slant to the top or to the bottom, failing miserably at keeping their words level with the frame. She knew that she would not be able to erase any potential mistakes and was determined that the finished piece come out as nothing short of pure art, both visually and in content. She kept her lines completely level, standing back every few seconds to make sure she had each stanza perfect. The marker she used was new, and it left behind lines and curves of flawless jet-black ink. She stood back and assessed her finished work. She smiled at the brilliance of her words, her perfect penmanship making them stand out on the board like a cleanly applied layer of paint to a newly whitewashed canvas.
Giddy, she decided she had time to publish some of her other work in the adjacent rooms. She carried the permanent marker with her, deciding already that she was going to stuff it in her bag when she was done to keep it as an honored trophy. It was a symbol of her freedom, her strike against conformity and oppression. Today, these classes would have a much-needed lesson in grim reality. Shelley felt that it was a subject all too often overlooked amidst all of the Bible quotes and news broadcasts. She felt the people deserved more variety in their lives. What better way to give it to them than with a set of gritty, plainspoken slice-of-real-life masterpieces honoring the
nearly forgotten
style of her favorite poets?
When the sermon let out, Shelley was back in the hall, contemplating going to one more classroom. She heard the sudden commotion of garbled voices and quick footsteps as the church doors opened and the people poured out into the distant halls. She ducked just to the inside of her building to wait for Charlotte, knowing that the crowds of students and class associates would be joining her soon enough.
A few people began to file in, some of them disappearing down the hall and in classrooms while others hurried up the stairs. No one took notice of Shelley, assuming she had just crossed the halls with the rest of them. She knew that she needed to get out of there before anyone important saw what she had done, and she contemplated how much longer she would be able to wait before having to leave without Charlotte. She knew she was running out of time, and suddenly she wondered if perhaps this really wasn’t the best time for her to be debuting her work to the masses.
“What the. . . ?” Shelley could hear a class associate exclaim
upon
entering one of the nearby rooms.
Charlotte entered the building, and Shelley yanked her aside. “We have to go!”
She hurried out and Charlotte raced after her. The two girls ran until neither could breathe, and Shelley made sure no one was watching them as she ducked down another hall to stop and catch her breath.
“What’s going on?” Charlotte asked, her face tight with suspense.
“I changed the curriculum for the day,” Shelley said with a wry smile. She giggled, wondering how her poems were being received so far. Were the class associates already attempting to clean them off, their faces going red and their bodies beginning to sweat as the words refused to erase? Perhaps a handful of people read her work with great interest, glad to have something fresh and new to ponder? Perhaps now she was more to her peers than simply the girl who was reclassified into the Mart Segregate.
Charlotte stared back, completely lost.
“I am now a published poet!” Shelley elaborated with a proud smile. “On the whiteboards of building C!”
“You did
not!
” Charlotte challenged with a surprised grin.
Shelley nodded. “All of my best work, now immortalized in permanent marker.”
Charlotte squealed, unable to contain herself. “Please tell me you didn’t sign them!”
Shelley shrugged, her smile bright with confidence. “Every one of them!”
“We’ve got to get out of here!” Charlotte giggled, her heart racing.
Shelley looked around, her excitement waning to a returned sense of anxiety and confinement. “Any ideas?”
“Maybe we should think on our way to the garage,” Charlotte said, spotting a security associate as he ran across an adjacent hallway.
The girls hurried toward the shuttle garage, then realized that a handful of security associates had been called out of class to guard the large area. They ducked behind the bend in the hallway, knowing that the search for Shelley had already begun. If anyone spotted them, they would both be arrested. Shelley had committed at least four counts of Felony Corporate Crime: one count for presenting original literary material, another count for defacing church property, a third for blasphemy, and another for slandering Corporate. Shelley wonder
ed
why Charlotte seemed more excited than upset over being an accessory to such serious crimes, but she appreciated having a friend beside her as she scrambled to come up with a get-away
plan
.
The girls backtracked, turning down the next nearest side hall, finding that security associates were suddenly everywhere. As the crowds thinned from the halls and shuffled into the classrooms, their chances of being spotted grew. If they didn’t get off church property soon, they would have no chance of escape.
Charlotte grabbed Shelley as they neared a crossroad in the hall. “There’s a garbage chute at the end of the hall on the right.”
Shelley turned down the hall, feeling uncertain. “Where’s it lead?”
“Out of here, if you’re lucky,” Charlotte said with a shrug.
“You don’t know?”
“I was class trash monitor back in the second grade. All I know is that’s where all of the nearby classes dump their trash cans,” Charlotte said. She ran ahead to the trash chute. “I always wanted to know where
they
led.” She opened the large door to the chute, which slid down as it came open, much like a mailbox security door.
“You first,” Shelley insisted.
Charlotte shook her head, holding the door open for Shelley. “You’re the one who’s in trouble, here! Better hurry up before someone sees you!”
Shelley looked down the long, dark chute. “What if I get stuck somewhere?”
“I’ll be right behind you.” Charlotte pushed Shelley toward the chute, and then coerced her into it headfirst. She closed the door, sending Shelley tumbling down, screaming.
Charlotte opened the door, unable to see Shelley. “Hello?” she called.
There was no answer.
Having a last
-
second change of heart, Charlotte decided not to follow. “Hello?” she called again, a twinge of guilt moving through her. She quickly turned as a security associate came up behind her.
“Why aren’t you in class?” the associate asked.
“Oh.” Charlotte let go of the door, allowing it to snap shut. “I just had some trash I needed to toss.”
“I need to see your I.D.,” the associate said, holding out his hand.
Charlotte dug into her bag and found her identification card, and then quickly handed it over to the security associate.
The associate looked it over, decided that Charlotte was not the person he was searching for, and then handed the card back to her with a disappointed huff. “Get to class,” he said.
“Yes, sir,” Charlotte said, hurrying past the man. She began toward her
room
, curious to see what mayhem had arisen as the result of Shelley’s prank.
VIRGINIA
waited all morning for Ray to arrive. It was only by luck that she found the hideout, after having wandered the district all day, completely lost. As she drifted through the different areas, looking for a shuttle line she recognized, she was surprised to see how differently society treated her while she wore her Corporate disguise. How strange that the
coat
she wore could offer her so much respect, and how completely opposite her treatment would surely be if she were to remove her sunglasses and just one person got a good glimpse of her eyes. Men opened doors for her; managers offered her their shuttle seats. She wondered how many laws she broke by playing the part and accepting their kind gestures, and then decided that she didn’t really care. After everything she had gone through, she deserved a bit of pampering.
When she finally found her way, she became even more grateful for the expensive clothing as she moved through the piles of snow left by yesterday’s heavy storm. She pushed her way through the slushy trails in the field, the heavy boots protecting her feet from the cold. She kept her hands in the coat’s deep pockets, the thick pelts guarding her from the frozen air.
Ray’s people ambushed her when she reached the cave, intent on mugging and killing her. Several men rushed her, and it wasn’t until they dragged her, kicking and screaming, into the main room and saw her eyes that they realized she wasn’t just a lost Corporate. Virginia brushed herself off and took some time to calm down, only to find that Ray had been called to another location for the weekend. Isaac offered her a spare bed, but Virginia insisted upon spending the night in one of the office chairs, waiting where she was until Ray returned in the morning.
