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AMITY

When I was a little girl, my mom figured out that I was afraid of heights. She found me outside one day, sullenly refusing to climb a tree. The other kids were teasing me.

She didn’t interfere, but afterward she talked to me about it, gently easing the secret out of me. I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want her to see me as weak or afraid.

I was right to be wary. That weekend and for years after she took me to the climbing gym.

“Maybe not today, maybe not next time,” she’d say, looking up the long walls to the top. “But someday you are going to climb to the top, calmly, and then you’ll know you have your fear under control.”

I could barely climb the first couple holds that first day. She didn’t coach me other than, “Climb as far as you can, and then just stay there. Get yourself under control.” She didn’t need to explain what that meant—we worked on it all the time at school .

“We had it all along,” she mused to me one day at a café down the street from the climbing gym. I don’t know how far I’d gotten at that point. Maybe halfway up? Definitely not to the top, that took years.

“What did we have?” I wanted to know.

“Women had the strength to change the world, to make it better.” I remember her face, her passion. “We just weren’t thinking big enough. We weren’t thinking about what it means to put the public good first.”

I’d heard the phrase public good before, and I knew it was connected to our Privileges.

“Like Rights and Privileges?” I asked.

“Exactly.” Her eyes shone. “We let them take Rights way too far. No one has the right to put other people in danger. No one has the right to hurt people, not even the government.”

“Not even the Peaceful Society?” I asked, thinking about our Officers in white.

“No. Violence is over. Everyone in MAV, including your grandmother, made sure of that. She would be so proud of you for working on this, conquering your fear.”

I thought about my grandmother, who was always busy when I was a kid, always running around to MAV events and protests.

They said she was part of the team at Tel Nof that disarmed the final nuclear weapons, that supported women throughout the Middle East to help them seize power and start recycling and repurposing their weaponry.

Every time I climbed after that, I thought about my grandmother. I pictured her in a city in the desert, organizing groups of women, helping them overcome their fear. I wanted to be like her .

I eventually climbed to the top. Even after, we’d still go back now and then for me to do that. Climb to the top. Breathe. Remind myself that I am in control of my fear.

I think of my grandmother as I climb the side of the building. It’s me and this ladder, me and the height.

My heart pangs at the thought of leaving Vale behind. What if he gets hurt, fighting in there to cover for me?

I wonder what my mother really thinks about the way the PS handles men and Oath Refusers.

I think I know what she would say—this is the way things are now, and it’s that way for a reason.

We all get to live a safe life, and that’s the priority now because greed and violence were the priorities for so long before.

“Now we’re trying this,” I’ve heard her say, a little bit light, a little dismissive, when people question the wisdom of the PS leadership. But how long can you keep men under extra rules and restrictions, just for the sins of their fathers and grandfathers?

The thought of Vale in a PS ankle cuff, his eyes glassed over from meds, causes a deep, shaky hurt inside me. That’s what they would do to him, what my mother would do to him. For the public good.

Maybe I can be part of changing that when I get older. Maybe I can help get more representation from men into leadership and address their concerns.

This ladder is higher than the top of the climbing wall, and I’m glad my legs and shoulders are strong. I’m not tired. I hear a wave of cheering as I reach the top and pull myself over, and wonder what it means.

Up here there are only a couple of parts that stick up on the wide, flat roof. There’s a metal door in a little area that pokes up on its own that might be the stairway I found. I slip over to give a quick tug on the door but it’s locked. So that won’t be a way out.

Checking behind it, I see what I’m looking for. There’s a small building up here, like a large shed. My eyes scan for cameras, but I don’t see anything so I step quietly to the side, where there’s a window.

My heart leaps. There’s a man in a chair and he’s facing me. However, his eyes are pointed up to something over the window, and it’s darker out here than inside the room. He doesn’t react to my quick peek. I move around to the other side so I can see what he’s watching.

There are half a dozen monitors and I see laptops in a careless pile. I have the serial number of the laptop we need memorized. Everyone wants this laptop. Is it part of an evil plan the Forge has to attack the PS? Or does it hold PS secrets that the Forge wants to air?

I’ll find out. I need to get in there and start looking at the serial numbers of those laptops.

The man doesn’t turn, just keeps watching the screens.

I’m relieved there’s not one showing the roof or the fire escape.

They’re all videos of the party downstairs, the front entrance where the line is still filing through, and the side parking lot where the fight is going on.

Even though I need to get on with this and figure out how to get into the room and get around this guy, my eyes snag on the image of Vale in his boxing gloves as he dances forward and back.

He and the other guy look worse for wear.

One of Vale’s eyes is swollen shut. The other guy is dragging himself forward, but barely upright.

Vale ducks his punches easily, swinging back with tight, controlled strikes. It’s kind of beautiful to watch.

I don’t know anything about boxing. It was banned along with all violent sports by the PS, but somehow Vale makes it look more like dancing than fighting with his head drifting side to side, his feet moving and twisting on the floor in neat, quick movements.

The guard reaches for a cup to take a drink and I shrink back. How am I going to get past him? Can I lure him out somehow? Cause a distraction on the roof he’ll want to check out? The problem is there’s not much up here, meaning he’ll see me.

I watch as the guy stretches, grabs a couple things, and opens the door. I hover on the other side of the building, carefully tracking his movements. He moves off and lights a cigarette, wandering to the edge of the building to look down over the parking lot.

I can’t believe my luck. I slip into the small room and start checking the backs of the laptops, trying to find the serial number we were given.

It’s not there, but I open drawers of the desk and there are more electronics.

I glance out the window to check on the guard, but he’s still smoking, standing a distance away.

Underneath a tablet I find it. The sleek gray laptop is unassuming but a sticker on the back has the serial number I’ve been looking for. I tuck it quickly into the backpack. I check the top screen for Vale’s fight but the ring is empty. What happened?

My eyes dart around to the other screens trying to find him, but I don’t see him anywhere. Does that mean he’s behind the building? Is he on his way up here? I need to move quickly. I zip up the backpack and head for the door. Then I realize I haven’t been keeping an eye on the guard.

A quick check tells me he’s on his way back.

I open the door as quietly as I can and hurry out, hoping he’s not paying too much attention, that he can’t see through the window to where I am.

I’m not sure which part of the building to put between me and the guard, and I’m suddenly reminded of playing tag, or hide and seek, and trying to stay on one side of a tree or a couch.

There’s a shout. I can’t see what’s going on, but when I hear pounding footsteps I skitter away around the side of the shack, office, whatever it is. Now I can see a bit through this window. The guard’s headed back the way I came, around the entrance to the stairs and over to the back wall.

Is it Vale? Did Vale get up here already? Or is it someone from the Brotherhood? Did they figure out I’m up here? I crouch down and peer through, waiting for a sign of what’s happening.