Jed hadn’t had the opportunity to see everyone who was going to be on the trip. The SGT station was a confusing and cavernous facility, and people were seated all over the place. Without access to the Internet queue, to Jed it looked like people would just randomly stand up and head off to Medical, and while he’d been talking to Jerry, maybe two-thirds of the passengers had loaded onto the ship without him even noticing. Now, there were only a few travelers left in the waiting room.
“Jedediah Troyer! Jedediah Troyer to Medical, please. Jedediah Troyer.”
* * *
Jed was poked and prodded and tested, but, all in all, the process proceeded quite rapidly. The only painful part was when a catheter was inserted into his bladder. He wasn’t sure if that process violated the Richmond Ruling, but the doctors explained to him that it was necessary in order to be able to drain his liquid waste during the trip. He didn’t understand every word they said, but it seemed pretty straightforward. After the catheter was installed, he was given a large glass of an orange liquid, and he was told to drink it all down. This was supposed to “clean him out” for the trip, they explained.
Next, a woman came in and went through everything that was going to happen on the trip, explaining basically the same information that had been on the brochures Jed had read, only this briefing was a little more in-depth.
She explained that he was going to be placed in “suspended animation.” The trip was going to take nine years in Earth time. He would only age a week or so during the duration of the voyage, but it would seem like he’d slept for only a few hours. There should be no long-term health effects. The one thing she emphasized several times was that he could not return. She made certain that he understood that fact.
When the woman was finished briefing him, she asked if he had any questions. He could feel the orange drink working on him, and he had the urge to go to the bathroom, but he felt like he needed to wait to see what would come next. He said he didn’t have any questions, so she smiled and stood to leave. Just as she reached the door, she turned to him and said, “I’m sure you need to use the restroom, so go ahead. It’s right through that door. Someone else will meet you when you come out.”
Jed nodded his head but didn’t spend long saying goodbye. He really needed to go. He rushed into the bathroom, and there he determined that when the Transport authorities told you some drink was going to empty you out for a long voyage, they weren’t kidding around.
* * *
After Jed was done doing his business, he washed his hands and paused to look in the mirror. This was something he’d rarely done in his life. His people didn’t generally believe in having mirrors around the house. Mirrors tended to vanity, he was told. But now he really looked at himself, and maybe it was for the very first time.
At eighteen years old, he was a sturdy young man. Handsome enough. He noticed that he looked like a very young version of his father. His hair was dirty blond where it stuck out beneath his black hat, and he was shaved because he wasn’t married yet. He was lean and strong from all the hard work on the farm, and he knew that there would be even harder work ahead of him if he was going to be successful in building his own place in New Pennsylvania. Looking at himself in the mirror, he nodded his approval. He knew he’d make it work, no matter what happened next.
Stepping out of the bathroom, Jed was met by two stern-looking men who appeared to be very official. One of the men, the taller one, wore the uniform of the Transport Police. The shorter one was the one who spoke to him.
“Mr. Troyer, my name is Hugh Conrad, and I’m with the Transport Authority. This is Officer Rheems of the TP. You’re under arrest for insurrectionist discussions and terroristic intent based on conversations you had with Mr. Jerry Rios aboard the airbus that brought you here. We have the whole conversation recorded. We’re going to need you to come with us.”
Chapter 5
Sleep
Jed felt the gold coin pressing into the ball of his foot, and the feeling that he’d been doing something terribly wrong made it hard for him to focus on what the TP officer was saying to him.
Every five minutes or so, a small box up near the ceiling in the room would spray a fine mist into the air. The air smelled of artificial flowers and sweet chemicals, and Jed wondered if perhaps this was some aerosolized version of Quadrille, used to make arrested persons more compliant. He didn’t know, and not knowing made him feel even worse. Everything in the office was plastic and metal and temporary, and Jed contrasted it with the essence of permanence he’d experienced back at his family’s farm.
Officer Rheems of the Transport Police commanded Jed to “remove his shoes and any articles of jewelry” and place them in the rubber bin under his chair. He slipped off his shoes and made sure to tip them forward so that the gold coin in the right one would slide unnoticed toward the toe. He placed the shoes into the bin and then folded his hands on his lap. He wore no jewelry or other personal adornment of any kind. He didn’t like not knowing what was going to happen to him. He was nervous. He was frightened. For the first time that he could remember in all of his life, he felt fully powerless and exposed.
Rheems ordered him to stand up and put his hands on the opposite wall, and a thorough pat-down search commenced, adding to Jed’s sense that he was some kind of criminal and that he was, therefore, doomed.
“Sit back down in the chair,” Rheems said. The Transport cop looked over to the other man, Conrad, and nodded his head to indicate that the search had been completed.
Conrad glared at him coldly. Jed could detect no human feeling or care or empathy coming from the man. This was a man who did everything by the book, and it was obvious that he didn’t let anything—emotions, mercy, kindness—affect his decisions.
“Jed Troyer, son, you are charged with a felony count of insurrectionist discussions with terroristic intent. You are not only charged, but you are already convicted, by the way.” Conrad walked around the desk and stood in front of Jed. “Once you left the AZ and boarded official Transport, you were no longer protected under the Richmond Ruling, and you’ve waived all rights as a Plain Person in order to travel out of the AZ. Every individual who boards and engages official Transport agrees to waive any right they have to an attorney, to a trial by jury, et cetera. They also agree to submit themselves to the absolute judgment of the Transport Authority. That’s us. You signed a document agreeing to what I’ve just laid out for you, and now you’ve been found to be in violation of Transport law. Do you understand what I’m saying to you?”
“I don’t think so, sir. I don’t understand what I’ve done that was wrong,” Jed said.
“You engaged in a public conversation where blatant violations of law were discussed and planned. Specifically, traveler Jerry Rios, who is now in custody as well, discussed with you in detail his intention, upon his arrival in New Pennsylvania, to remove his TRID implant—which would be a felony—and then to escape and illegally join you in the AZ there. Do you deny these charges?”
“I don’t deny that he said these things. I didn’t say them, or agree with them though.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway, even if you denied it. It doesn’t matter if you said anything or agreed or disagreed. Failure to report insurrectionist activities immediately to Transport authorities is evidence of criminal conspiracy. We have the whole conversation recorded, and you have waived your right to trial. You’ve been declared guilty, and now it just remains for us to decide what to do with you.” Conrad looked over at Rheems, then stared back at Jed with hostility in his eyes.