Once we pass through the outskirts, my entourage takes me through several security checkpoints. I try to ignore the stares and whispers as we pass. After authorization, we enter into the Haven itself.
The sight takes my breath away.
The Haven interior is a glittering metropolis of glass and alloyed metal, sturdy and fragile, beautiful and ominous. The buildings soar toward the invisible ceiling so high that they're lost to sight, while air traffic streams continuously between the mammoth constructions, endless lanes of flying vehicles whizzing back and forth to unknown destinations.
More transports roam the digitally organized streets on the ground level. Some roll on wheels, but most vehicles hover, defying gravity and friction as they skim above the surface. The alloy on the streamlined cars gleam, different models and sizes but all without the wear and rust I'm accustomed to seeing.
Crowds of people walk on foot, garbed in outfits and styles which range from sensible to seemingly ridiculous. It quickly becomes apparent the wealthier the citizen, the more extravagant the appearance. Simdroids mix with humans freely, carrying bags, walking carefully coifed dogs, and otherwise serving their owners. After being raised by simdroids, it's bizarre to see the roles reversed so severely.
The citizens of the Haven appear carefree and happy. They go about their business with an air of security and well-being. I have never seen such a level of obliviousness. It's as if they're completely unaware the world outside of the Haven is a blasted wasteland.
We enter a large, imposing military building. After a medical examination and DNA identification, I'm ushered into a stark room and left at a table to wait. It's a familiar setting. Often I have sat in similar rooms while waiting for chastisement after breaking some rule imposed by my synthetic overseers.
The door opens, and an officer enters. He is young, only a year or two older than myself, it appears. His skin is the color of tree bark, his eyes dark as strong tea.
"Hello, Zina."
I can only stare in stunned silence as David carefully sits across from me, setting a digital tablet on the table. His hands rest on the tabletop, his fingers cradled as he studies me. The kindness in his eyes is almost more than I can bear.
"I couldn't believe it," he says. "When I heard it was you…I couldn't believe it could be true. The Scrolls wrote you off a few months after you escaped."
I swallow to wet my raspy throat. "The Scrolls…?"
He smiles and taps the medallion pinned to his breast pocket. A scroll and blade intercrossed. "That's what they recruited us for: induction into the Scroll and Blade Order — the foundation of the new direction for the United Havens. Our intuitiveness and behavior patterns were recognized as well suited for leadership. When we were transported here, we slept through our medical conditioning and inoculation for Haven residency."
He sighs and gazes at me sadly. "Most of us were, anyway. You escaped, of course."
He taps the tablet and opens a holographic screen displaying data. "Since you deported, the vagrants in the wilderness have used you as a rallying force to unite under a banner of resistance. Attacks on our breeding stations and nurseries have increased, as have raids on supply trains and even military scouting units."
He shakes his head. "You really didn't know humanity was behind the machines, did you? Amazing. I know the simdroids were strict in secluding us from outside influences but still—"
I stare at the table. "I couldn't have known, David. We were never told."
"I understand. It's the only thing that will help your case right now."
I lift my head to meet his gaze. "My case?"
His eyes shift uncomfortably. "Men died in those attacks you sponsored, Zina. Many in the Justice Ministry want to have you tried and executed for war crimes."
My blood runs cold at the casualness of his softly spoken words. Tried and executed. In many ways, the fate I always feared hasn't changed at all.
David leans back in his chair. "I'm confident we can get you cleared of all charges, however. You're a victim in all of this. Used by desperate rebels to put a face to their insurgency. You'll probably have to go through a period of probation before being completely free for induction into the Haven. More than likely, I'll be appointed your supervisor through the process. I can get you updated, catch you up on all you missed. You still might be able to become an officer, Zina. You've been trained, albeit through unconventional channels—"
"Do you really think what the UH does is right, David?"
He pauses and stares at me as though confused. "Right? What do you mean?"
"Breeding stations. Nurseries. Simdroid enforcement. Virtual slavery."
David clears his throat and adjusts his collar. "That's just the Resistance talking, Zina. You've been conditioned by their traitorous influence. But don't worry. We'll take care of that."
I clasp my hands tightly to keep them from clenching. "Do you know what happens to the children who don't make the cut, David? Those who aren't deemed fit for the little perfect society here in this Haven?"
He nervously shifts in his chair. "The weak have to be culled, Julia. You don't expect—"
"They're exiled, David. Given a few days' worth of food and water and expelled. Cast into the wild where they can be snatched up by marauders and the other human animals that prey on their own kind. Raped. Mutilated. Enslaved. Murdered."
"The Havens can only support so many," David says, flinching. He speaks as if repeating some memorized mantra. "The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Only the best and brightest can become citizens of the Haven. That's why the Haven is successful. That's why the Haven thrives."
I fold my arms, unable to keep the disgust from my voice. "And you wonder why these 'vagrants' have organized a resistance? Where do you think they come from? Not all of the children just die like you expect. After the assaults, after the torment, some of them survive. Some of them gather together to make sure history doesn't repeat itself. And they haven't forgotten, David. They haven't forgotten who it was that abandoned them when they were at their most vulnerable."
"Zina." David's voice pleads. "I can't do anything about that. It's how the world works. You should be glad you've gotten a chance to escape from that type of environment. You have an opportunity to start over. Forget about the world outside. We have the Haven. And I'm trying to protect you. You just have to do what you're supposed to."
I stare at him. "Just follow orders, David? Like old times?"
David nods eagerly. "You know how the system works. Defiance is the one thing they won't tolerate. You have to look at things in a different light. See the advantages. You'll get used to it, I promise."
I slowly nod. "Ok, David. I'll try."
His smile is heartbreaking. I realize he's just another machine now. Programmed into behavior patterns that fall in line with the parameters of his masters. And as I observe and calculate, I'll be able to manipulate him in time.
David talks. I listen. I nod at the appropriate times, even smile and laugh when expected. I allow the cameras that record the scene to identify that I'm compliant with their program of personality rehabilitation.
I will fall in line. Play out my role as a disgraced citizen introduced to a new way of life. I'll learn all I can about the Haven, its history, and its inner workings. Patience is paramount because one mistake can end it all. I'll comply until new freedoms and privileges are granted. Until the day comes when they're comfortable around me. Then I will be able to act.