I elbowed him to be quiet, not wanting to give away our position.
Max strode onto the stage, her usual poncho hiding her wings. Her long brown hair hung down her back, and her eyes were overly large in her too-thin face. Somehow she still got everyone’s attention: the crowd got quiet. Max stepped up to the mic and held the stand tightly.
“Thank you for coming!” she shouted, and the crowd whistled and clapped. Even some of the Opes stood still and looked toward the stage—her voice was that commanding.
“Sorry if this speech is kind of rough,” Max said, trying to be heard over the vidscreens, which were still spewing their dreck. “I haven’t given a speech in ten years.”
More clapping. Max seemed to be thinking of what to say, as if she were shuffling invisible pages. Then she looked up and said, “Why are you all here today? This City of the Dead has been marching along for decades, just as it is. So why are you here to listen to a revolutionary?”
Below us, I saw people in the crowd turn to look at one another. Just then the vidscreens changed from McCallum ranting to a typical cartoon meant to suck little kids into the McCallum way.
Max looked over at a screen and watched it for several long seconds as the crowd moved restlessly. People outside of the park were listening now, craning their necks to see Max on the stage. The streets were filling with rally goers, blocking traffic. Horns were honking angrily. What was Max doing? Trying to start a riot?
Some weird sense prickled the hairs on the back of my neck. I looked at Angel, who seemed calm. She hadn’t given Clete any kind of signal. He sat next to me, tight as a piano string. I patted his knee reassuringly, but I didn’t know if I was doing it to calm Clete, or myself. Something was off. Something was about to happen.
CHAPTER 89
“Look,” Max finally said, pointing to a vidscreen, where a McCallum newscast showed sniffer dogs at work. “You see those sweet dogs sniffing out a traitor?” The crowd nodded and murmured yes. “Those dogs… those dogs are sniffing clean air. Clean, clear air. Look at that blue sky. That’s awesome, isn’t it?”
“I don’t understand this,” Clete whispered.
I shook my head. “I don’t, either.”
“And they’re walking on green grass!” Max continued. “Clear blue skies, healthy green grass! Those dogs have a better life than you do! Where’s your blue sky, and puffy white clouds? Do you even remember them? When’s the last time you walked barefoot over fresh green grass?”
Thousands of heads swiveled to look at the vidscreen closest to them. It was true that the dogs looked like they were living in paradise. They sure weren’t living in the City of the Dead. The crowd’s murmurs grew louder.
“How long has it been since you saw blue sky?” Max shouted. “How long has it been since this city was clean and up-to-date? Since your water was safe to drink?”
Heads with every color and texture of hair tilted up to look at the ever-present depressing gray-blue bank of clouds, heavy with smokestack fumes. Clete and I carefully moved behind McCallum’s head, out of sight.
“What I don’t get,” Max said, taking the mic off its stand and walking across the stage. “What I don’t get is—why is this okay with you? Who among you is upset that the city you live in, that you’re raising your kids in, is ugly and poor and dirty?”
Hands raised hesitantly, people glancing around to see if anyone was watching them, if punishment would be immediately doled out.
“There’s no money!” someone yelled.
“Okay, there’s no money,” Max agreed, walking to the other side of the stage. “What else?”
“There’s no jobs!” someone else shouted.
“Right,” said Max, nodding. “What else?”
“There’s no one to talk to! At the city offices, they’re all empty, or filled with people who don’t care and aren’t going to help you!” That was a third person. Up on stage, I was still watching Angel, my eyes flicking between her and Max. No signal so far.
“Right,” said Max. “The city officials don’t care. What else?”
Everyone started yelling then. I heard “There’s not enough food!” and “The police are corrupt!” and “There’s too much organized crime!”
Max was quiet, listening. “Okay,” she said during a lull. “You guys have a lot of real complaints. Now I’m going to ask you again: Why is this okay with you?”
The crowd was stunned into silence.
“Because apparently it