“It’s all right. We’re nearly home,” said Alicia.
Raven added, “We can make it on our own from here.”
“You sure?” the young man asked.
“We’re sure,” Alicia said, with a smile.
In the surveillance center, surrounded by the viewscreens that watched every square centimeter of public space in the habitat, Sergeant Jacobi pulled the earphones off his head.
Tomorrow’s the big day, he said to himself. But where? What for? I’d better tell Waxman about this right away. And get every able body we have on the force into uniform tomorrow morning, ready for anything.
CONFRONTATION
It seemed like an ordinary weekday morning. Instead of opening their boutique, though, Raven and Alicia marched with determination to the grassy open park space in front of the Chemlab Building. But not before leaving a sign in the shop’s window advising customers to join them in the protest.
Raven saw a half-dozen men and women already there, sitting on the grass. One was staring intently at the pocket-sized reader she had propped on her folded legs. Another was stretched out on his back, seemingly napping.
“Why don’t we sit here?” said Alicia.
Raven nodded her agreement, and the two of them sat down on the grass along the edge of the paved walkway that led into the building.
“Now what?” Alicia asked.
With a tiny shrug Raven said, “Now we wait.”
More people were coming to the little park in groups of three and four and sitting down quietly. A few spoke to one another. Most sat tensely, expectantly, some fearfully.
“Not many people,” Alicia said.
“It’s early,” Raven replied. Then she pointed, “Look, here come some more.”
Within fifteen minutes, Raven counted forty-three bodies sitting or lying on the grass. A uniformed security guard came out of the building’s main entrance, frowning as he looked around, then popped back inside again.
A middle-aged man carrying a briefcase approached the building, found his path blocked by a handful of people, and bent down slightly to talk to them. He didn’t seem to be angry or alarmed, just puzzled.
Raven watched their conversation, too far away to hear their words. The middle-aged man pointed to the building’s entrance. The younger men and women blocking the path to the entrance said something to him, shaking their heads.
Raven guessed it was, “Sorry, the entrance is closed.”
Even at this distance, Raven could see the surprise on the older man’s face. Then it turned to anger. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a pocket phone.
“Now it starts,” Raven said to Alicia.
In the security department headquarters, Sergeant Jacobi reached across his desk and touched the ANSWER button on his intercom phone.
“Jacobi… What? Blocking the entrance? Who is? The entrance to what?”
Evan Waxman had just slipped into his desk chair when his phone buzzed.
“Good mor—What? Blocking the entrance to the Chemlab Building? Who is?… Well, clear them out of there! That’s what your job is!”
With a snap of his fingers, he silenced the phone. Blockading the Chemlab Building? he thought. So that’s what they’re up to.
Feeling more relieved than alarmed, he commanded his wall screen to show the entrance to the Chemlab Building.
Reverend Umber pushed himself up from his desk chair as he watched the mounting confrontation in the minipark in front of the Chemlab Building. Security police were streaming in from the main passageway, armed with electroshock wands. A gaggle of people—including a trio of the building’s security guards—were arguing heatedly, arms waving, mouths yammering.
I should be there, the reverend said to himself. I should have been the first one out there this morning.
Get moving, he told himself. You’re supposed to be their leader. Get out there and lead.
He strode purposefully away from his desk, toward the exit of his office domain, heading for the Chemlab Building. He could feel his pulse hammering in his veins.
Sergeant Jacobi hustled down to the locker room and picked up his riot gear, slinging it over one shoulder as he headed for the exit and the Chemlab Building. Shaking his head as he adjusted the strap over his shoulder, he said to himself, riot gear. Never thought I’d have to use this stuff. So that’s what they’re up to. That’s what “passive resistance” means to them. Target practice. They want to let themselves get whacked, we’ll whack ’em.
He hurried to the security cruiser waiting in the passageway outside.
Raven and Alicia got to their feet, their eyes fixed on the confrontation in front of the building’s entrance.
Three red-faced security guards were arguing heatedly with a dozen or so of the demonstrators. More of the demonstrators were getting up off the grass, looking uncertain, alarmed. In the distance, more security guards were running toward the entrance area, brandishing wicked-looking black batons.
One of the demonstrators—young, curly-haired, beefy-cheeked—was nose to nose with one of the building’s guards, obviously trying to outshout the guard, who was doing the same to him.
The youngster shoved the guard with both his ham-sized hands. The guard staggered backward, then fell onto the seat of his pants.
“Come on!” the youngster shouted to the men and women around him, waving one arm over his head.
“No!” Raven shouted. “Don’t move!”
The young man looked surprised as Raven rushed up to him.
“Sit down,” Raven commanded, gesturing with both her hands. “Just block the entryway. That’s all we want to do.”
Looking surprised, perplexed, the youngster sank down onto the paved walkway. As did the handful of men and women around him.
Two other guards hauled the fallen policeman to his feet. Another security guard popped out of the building’s entryway, a black baton in one hand. “What the hell’s going on here?”
“They’re blocking the entrance,” replied one of the guards.
“Well, clear ’em out of the way. Now!”
The trio of guards stood uncertainly, looking around at the growing crowd. Raven could see dozens of other people joining the demonstrators, walking into the crowd and sitting down on the pathway and the grassy area.
She also saw several security cruisers gliding to a stop and dozens of guards pouring out.
“Clear the area!” shouted a guard with sergeant’s stripes on his blue sleeve, as he loped through the growing crowd from one of the cruisers to the building’s entrance. “That’s an order! Clear the area! Now!”
The sitting men and women looked at each other, some puzzled, some grinning. None of them got up. Raven felt a thrill.
Sergeant Jacobi climbed past the sitting protestors and reached the building’s entrance.
“You’re blocking a public walkway,” he shouted. “Disperse. Now!”
No one moved.
“I’m warning you!” Jacobi bellowed, raising the black nightstick in his hand.
The crowd stirred, but did not get up. Raven saw that they were turning to look at a new arrival striding purposefully toward the building’s entrance.
Reverend Umber.
Everyone seemed to freeze in place as Umber weaved through the sitting protestors. He was wearing his customary suit of pure white, with the black button of a loudspeaker clipped to the jacket’s collar.
Umber stopped in front of Sergeant Jacobi, panting slightly from his exertion. The sergeant let his arm drop to his side.