UnBound - Neal Shusterman Page 0,21
it up. Instead, he slowly signs, We could. Then he waits, leaving the decision entirely up to Brooklyn.
When do I have to decide? Brooklyn asks.
I need access to the mainframe, to make the switch, and I can’t get near it until the Eagle takes off.
Brooklyn glances at the hook-nosed computer-room attendant. This one is much more attentive than the weekend attendant. The Eagle eyes them with even more suspicion than he does the other kids. Apparently signing is even more suspect than whispering.
He goes off duty at five thirty, Thor tells her. That gives you an hour to decide—but don’t be late. The results become final at six—and if you miss that window, you’re as good as unwound.
It feels heady yet horrible to hold the power of life and death or—if you believe the Juvenile Authority’s propaganda—living whole or living divided. But either way, it’s an end. She shivers. Better someone else’s end than hers.
I’ll meet you back here in an hour, she tells him.
• • •
The stairwells are full of kids seeking out friends on other floors. Everyone needs someone to listen as they wail about poor performances or exult over triumphs. No one understands the true stakes. No ward except she and Thor knows of the extra harvesting this year. But every ward knows that a bad ranking could eventually lead to unwinding.
Feeling claustrophobic, Brooklyn heads for the playground to think, but DormGuardians are setting up tables there. Too bad, because in a rare moment, it’s actually quiet. No basketball on the courts, no kids playing hopscotch, no one on the rusted swing set. She puts two and two together and remembers the ice cream Logan had told her about. They’ll all be getting a surprise treat tonight—and everyone will know something is up when they announce it. They only give ice cream on a weekday when something truly bad happens. The last time was the day before another batch of kids was put on a bus to be unwound.
Sitting on a sun-warmed bench, she figures that even with the DormGuardians chattering about where to put the napkin dispensers, she isn’t going to find a quieter spot at the StaHo. She closes her eyes against visual distractions and leans into the dappled sunlight beneath a spreading maple tree. She lets the rustling leaves envelop her.
In a few years making life-and-death decisions will be commonplace for her. On the battlefield she’ll kill enemies to protect friends. As she advances, she will eventually have to choose which friends will die to protect their platoon. Her orders will end the lives of innocents caught in a cross fire or buried in a bombing raid.
The decision she makes in the next hour will prepare her for those times just as fitness and marksmanship training prepare her physically. She’s making herself a better soldier, she tells herself. A better leader.
Leaving herself on the harvest list is not an option. Having a friend who knows how to alter the ranking algorithm gives her this advantage, this weapon. If you are attacked, then you defend yourself.
This is her defending herself.
Having had time to let her thoughts settle, the choice of who will take her place on the list is obvious.
Risa is smart and talented. She shouldn’t be punished for having a bad day. On the other hand, Logan might be a good friend, but he’s not too bright, and he’s only an average boeuf. It’s only a matter of time before they unwind him anyway.
She considers carefully what the lieutenant said to her. No matter what, the squad is your family. He meant that even if it costs the lives of others worthier than her fellow soldiers, her comrades come first.
Someday that may be true for her. To save her comrades she may one day need to level a museum, aim her rifle at a poet, or gun down an entire orchestra.
But not today. Today she will choose to save the life of a piano player instead of a boeuf.
A 5:00 factory whistle sounds in the distance, and she chuckles. In the end she made her decision in less than thirty minutes. She has time to change into the Parana River shirt Logan gave her. It seems a nice thing to do for him before he’s unwound.
• • •
Her Parana River shirt is missing.
She’d worn it yesterday but not for long. She’d folded it and put it in her nightstand drawer. It isn’t there now. Did someone take it?
Feverishly she goes through her laundry hamper.