Page 14

AMITY

Crossing the border into Canada is much faster than leaving the Peaceful Society. Someone from New England gets on board and asks if we have any questions and that’s it. Privacy is such a thing here they apparently don’t scan you or keep track of your movements.

I’m not sure how they keep everyone safe. Someone could be hurting someone else right now in some unsupervised home in Massachusetts. It used to happen all the time before the Integration.

I’ve heard murmurs back home about this, concern for the weaker citizens in the other territories: the children, the teenagers, the elderly. But all the territories comply with the Universal Accord: they abolished guns, so I guess that’s enough.

I wonder—if men grew up with the old ways, wielding power over other people, reacting with violence when they feel scared or threatened—how will they unlearn those behaviors without Citizen training ?

How will they pass on peace to the next generation without government oversight of schools and learning? My mom says they’re just sweeping violence under the rug in New England, and not establishing a new legacy like the Peaceful Society.

At least, considering the lax security at the border, it seems like folks can leave if they don’t like it.

Canada is…different. Canada was consolidated by the Canadian Government Corporation after signing the Universal Accord. They dismantled their military, sure, but they didn’t start regulating tech the way the territories in the old United States did.

You see the difference immediately when we cross the St. Lawrence River. There are big signs outside next to the train, wide and tall, with high-res screens flashing pictures of people laughing and running, and advertisements for clothes, makeup, and vacations.

They’re like the videos the Peaceful Society makes but instead of citizen education, they’re directing people to buy things: a headset, a pair of shoes, a tiny apartment with a virtual reality pod, and a food delivery service all flash on the screen in quick succession.

I turn to Ren. “This is overwhelming.” Ren doesn’t even blink.

“Do you want to switch seats?” they ask. “It’s all garbage, Ami, don’t even give it the time of day. Don’t let them draw you into that nonsense. Vipers.”

“How does anyone have the money to buy that stuff? Where do they put it?” I ask as Ren scootches by me to take the place by the window and we awkwardly change places .

They shake their head. “Most of the stuff never sells. I think people find it comforting to see the ads, have that feeling of desire, the hope that something out there will make you feel better.”

I shake my head in confusion.

“Look, I’m no expert, but most of the money in Canada just gets passed around their virtual marketplace. People pay each other, pay for upgrades, new experiences, trying to feel good. Have you done VR?”

My answer must show on my face.

Ren laughs. “Virtual reality. You can go into one of those pods and live your life in there. They’ll bring you food, they’ll bring you to a bathroom. You can stay there all the time. It’s cold up here. Some folks think VR’s more fun than reality.”

I try to imagine sitting in a pod all day.

“It’s so different from New England,” I muse, trying to fit all the new information into my understanding.

“Yeah, New England’s got nothing. They ripped all the fiber out.”

I’m so confused, even as the train slows to a stop.

“Hang on, when we get to Kingston I’ll show you,” Ren says.

A minute later we stand up and I hand Ren their hoodie that I’ve been clutching since the whole phone-buying adventure.

Ren scoots past me and leads the way up the aisle to the door. We climb down and stare around the station. There are screens everywhere. I’m trying to see where to go, when the train starts to pull away behind us .

“Ren!” I clutch their arm in alarm, but they reassure me.

“Don’t worry, kiddo, we have to switch to the trans-Canada anyway. Let’s look around first, then we’ll catch it later. And it won’t have those guys from the Forge,” they add in a low voice.

That sounds like a great idea. I gaze up and down, trying to take it all in.

“Welcome to Canada, kiddo,” Ren says grandly. “Let me show you around.”

“Have you been here before?” I ask.

“Sure, came through on my way to Anchorage last time. That’s where I’m based. It’s nice to be deported, actually,” they tell me. “The depo train brings you all the way here.”

“I guess that’s nice.”

Ren pulls me around a corner inside the station and into an elevator. There are videos of people in their underwear playing on the wall, advertisements for VR games and role plays.

I close my eyes, not used to the onslaught of flashing images, the people so beautiful and larger than life, the dramatic close-ups of faces and bodies and the vibrant, saturated color.

When we step out of the elevator and head outside it’s muted tones of green and brown.

This doesn’t look anything like the carefully cultivated gardens back home, or the wild forests of New England. It’s scrubby, overgrown. It’s clean but…sad. We head down the road, the sidewalk cracked with weeds shoving their way through.

In town there are clusters of screens. I don’t see many people. There’s one other guy with a hat pulled low over his eyes, looking like he hopped on in New York. He disappears down an alley between two buildings and it’s only Ren and me.

“Where are all the people?” I ask Ren. I’d peek in the windows to find them, but there are none of those either. It makes me nervous. “And where are the windows?”

“The new architecture.” Ren shrugs. “Very efficient.”

I blink. “It’s so ugly.”

“Take out your phone,” Ren urges. “I need coffee and snacks, there must be a place.” I hand Ren my phone, not quite knowing what to do with it.

Ren swipes on the screen, then stops walking, turning back to where we saw the man disappear down the alley. “It’s down there.”

“What’s down there?” I wonder.

“The coffee shop.” Ren watches my face carefully and laughs at what they see there. Ren’s laugh is throaty and warm. It relaxes me immediately.

“Ever had coffee, little PS princess?” they ask.

I straighten. I’m not a Peaceful Society princess. I’m a rebel. I’m dressed like one, at least.

“Sure,” I say. I’ve never had coffee. All drugs are strictly forbidden back home. Even chocolate, which my mom talks about sometimes, was banned for having low amounts of caffeine, and coffee is definitely not allowed.

The Society decided that any drug that would cause a change to the way you feel or act would be banned.

We get to a door with an open sign and Ren jerks it open. Inside it’s pretty and warm. The walls shimmer a little—they’re screens but the picture they show is beautiful, warm wooden beams and stonework and a fake window to a garden beyond, like an old-fashioned nook somewhere.

The smell in here is earthy and smoky and I take a long breath in. A man sits in a chair behind a counter, wearing a pair of e-glasses and waving his hands in the air with motions I don’t recognize. There’s no sign of the man we saw on the street.

On the other side of the room are several sliding doors, some closed, some open. Inside are more screens. I poke my head in curiously and Ren chuckles.

“You can drink your coffee anywhere in the world, there’s even VR goggles and gloves.”

I guess people close the doors and drink their coffee in tiny rooms. The rooms are so small, I do not want to sit in there. Ren asks the man in the chair for two coffees and he pulls off his glasses with a sigh and a pointed look at a touchscreen we didn’t use.

“Sorry, could we get one with cream and sugar?” Ren asks, no apology in their voice. The man, sighing again, pulls two mugs from under the counter, muttering about foreigners, and fills them with a dark, shiny liquid.

“Sweet one’s for her,” Ren says, tilting their head to indicate me.

I shrug. I wouldn’t know, but I trust Ren. We pick up our mugs. Mine is warm in my hand. It feels good after the chill in the air outside. Once we pay, the man sits down in the chair in a bit of a huff and puts his glasses back on, his arm coming up to swipe in the air, maybe playing a game.

Ren stares a minute before pushing on the door. “Come on, let’s go sit on the bench. ”

Outside the door there are a couple of benches and a lonely tree, green and squished between the gray, windowless buildings. A chorus of chirps comes from it, a flock of tiny sparrows poking around in its leaves.

We sit down and I take a sip of the coffee. It’s warm and creamy with a rich, bitter undertone and I love it. I drink a few more sips and right away there’s a difference, a tingling. Caffeine is a stimulant, and this drink has a lot of it, or I’m not used to it.

Ren groans in apparent pleasure. “Oh, sweet coffee, I missed you,” they whisper to their mug. I settle back on the bench, watching the birds and listening to the quiet. You would never believe we were in the middle of a town.

“It’s so quiet,” I remark to Ren.

“They’ve got the good tech, kiddo. I’ve only been a few places in Canada but this is pretty much what it’s like now. The cities are more active…maybe.” There’s doubt on their face.

I shiver. I’d rather live in New England than here. This is weird. We see one person walk by wearing the same e-glasses as the person in the shop. They gesture in the air with both hands and I shake my head.

“At least there’s coffee,” I muse.

Ren sighs and points to my phone.

“Let’s get you started on this thing, okay? Here, I’ll show you how it works.”