The truth of that hung over the chamber, an awful cloud portending an inevitable storm.
“Like it or not, we are part of this land... a land that pretends, anyway, to be a haven for the tired, the poor, the huddled masses, the wretched refuse... That’s from a song they used to sing in America. Admittedly, you don’t hear it much anymore; but those are the kind of words — words of freedom — that this country was built on.”
Faces frowned in thought as emotion fought reason in these outcasts.
“You don’t want to be part of that society out there, because the people are hateful... because they’re afraid of us, and want to kill us without even knowing us...”
Voices called out, “That’s right,” and other cries of agreement with this all too obvious notion.
Max continued, her tone doggedly rational. “Well, the only way they’re going to get to know us, out there, is if we give them the chance.”
Again the crowd quieted.
“And the only way for them to not be afraid of us is to get to understand us. That we are people, with hopes and dreams and families.”
Heads again began to nod.
Max wheeled as she spoke, connecting with them all. “The only way to get the ordinaries to stop hating is to educate them in our shared humanity... but they think we only want to kill. Is that true? Are we bloodthirsty monsters?”
Someone yelled, “No,” but the one voice seemed very small in the parking ramp.
Max’s face tightened with determination, and she racheted up the volume: “I said... is that true?”
This time about half the crowd shouted, “No!” and “Hell, no!”
She raised both fists, high. “Is... that... true?”
“No!” they all yelled — many voices, one voice.
Relief flooded through her — Max had won them over again. Now, while she had them, she needed to get them involved in solving their problems. She lowered her arms, and her voice to a firm, resonable leveclass="underline" “We have some issues we need to deal with.”
They all watched her attentively.
“In order to keep the police and National Guard from attacking,” she said, “I had to promise one of their representatives that none of us would leave Terminal City until this is negotiated.”
She saw several of them trading looks, and she knew what they were thinking: had they gone from being a nation to a gaggle of prisoners? But the reality was, many of them — most of them, in fact — had nowhere beyond the metal-mesh borders of Terminal City to go, anyway.
Oh, a few looked like they wanted to bolt now; but if they were truly united, the others would help persuade them.
She made a mental note to smuggle in some cigars to keep Mole happy.
Again she spoke, her voice ringing off the cement rafters. “They’re also claiming that one of us on the outside is killing ordinaries.”
“So what?” an X3 toward the front blurted.
Max shot him a look that silenced him. “Some of you have seen the news reports of a murderer who is skinning his victims.”
Nods and murmuring were the only response.
“That’s just the sort of crime the antitransgenic forces would love to lay on Terminal City’s doorstep.”
“Are you asking,” an X5 near the front asked, “to turn in one of our own?”
“If we have a maniac among us, yes — for our own safety. If we are a nation, a city, we need to live by the rule of law — and if we have a murderer in our midst, it is no betrayal of ourselves to see him brought to justice.”
The reptilian Mole asked, “Our justice? Or theirs?”
“I don’t have an answer to that yet. That’s something we will decide as a group — it’s day at a time, people. We are learning to walk, here... so be careful not to run.”
Nods again, even from Mole.
“For now, come to me if any of you know anything about this — particularly if there is one of us on the outside so troubled that these atrocities make a terrible kind of sense.”
Again she wheeled around as she spoke to them.
“Remember — the last thing we need right now is for the ordinaries to prove we are the fiends they say we are.” She gestured to her little council of advisors — Alec, Joshua, and Mole — and added, “If you can help, if you know anything, please come to us.”
No one moved, no one spoke; but she had expected as much — that anyone here who came to her with information would do so only after long, private thought.
“Thank you for your courage,” she said, “and your patience — we’re doing the best we can and we’ll make sure that this turns out the way we all want it to.”
The crowd slowly dispersed, conversation echoing off the cement walls... but calm conversation; this was no mob, rather the concerned citizens of Terminal City. It made Max feel proud; still, she knew what she had accomplished in the meeting was all too tentative. The compound remained a powder keg.
Max, Joshua, Alec, and the others headed back to the makeshift headquarters of the media center, and were just entering when Max’s cell phone rang.
“Go for Max.”
“They’re still listening,” the computer-altered voice warned.
Clemente.
“I thought you might call,” she said.
“I thought we had a deal.”
“We do.”
“I’ve seen the news tape — you know which one I mean...”
The detective was referring to Max and Alec leaping that fence to deal with the drunks and the media.
“Yes, I know the tape you mean.”
“And it shows our deal being broken.”
“Technically, perhaps — but we were merely defending our borders. There was no choice. You should see that, too.”
“And which side of that fence were you on?”
“I told you we had no choice. You know damn well we were merely defending ourselves from arsonists.”
“And terrorizing the press? Is that any way to win the PR war?”
“... I hear you.”
“I hope you do. But you’re not winning any points for trust, right now.”
The phone went dead in her ear.
Max settled in to watch tapes of news coverage of the transgenic siege.
And while she did, Joshua tugged Alec by the sleeve and — when Alec only frowned, in confusion — the dog man latched onto his friend by the wrist and led him into the hallway.
The iron grip of the gentle giant always surprised Alec, who gingerly reclaimed his hand and shook it a little.
“You don’t know your own strength, big guy,” Alec said.
Sheepishly, Joshua said, “Sorry. It’s important.”
“What is?”
Joshua began to sway back and forth, agitated. Alec could tell already that this wasn’t going anywhere good...
“I think I know something.”
“I’m sure you do, buddy.”
“I mean... something that would help Max.”
“Well, that’s fine,” Alec said, still having no idea what they were talking about, but rather used to Joshua’s torturous routes to what he had on his mind. “You should help her if you can.”
“Help Max if I can... but Joshua can’t.”
Alec said, “Oh... kay...” As usual, he and Joshua not only were not on the same page, they weren’t even in the same book. “You can help, but you can’t.”
Grinning, an eager puppy now, Joshua said, “Yes. You’ve got it, Alec! I knew you would know what Joshua should do — what should I do?”
“Whoa, boy.” Alec blew out air while he ran a hand through his hair; then he shook his head. “Explain it to me first. How exactly can you help Max?”
“I... know a guy.”
That was a start.
“Okay,” Alec said. “And?”