[Contributor 01.0] Contributor Read online

  "Here, have a seat. Let me grab a sweater and put some water on for tea, and then we'll talk," Tasha said.

  Dara perched gingerly on the edge of the couch. Her teeth started chattering and she pressed her hands together, shoving them between her knees in an effort to warm them. Tasha took a jug of water and poured it into a battered tea kettle, setting it on the burner. She flicked it on and disappeared down another corridor, reappearing a moment later with a sweater, which she handed to Dara.

  "Thanks," Dara mumbled, her teeth chattering so hard she had difficulty speaking. She shrugged the sweater on as Tasha measured some tea leaves into a tin tea pot.

  "Are you hungry?" Tasha asked.

  "Yes," Dara admitted.

  Tasha opened the fridge and rooted around for a minute before emerging with a small package in her hand. She handed it to Dara, who opened the container to find a sandwich.

  "It's peanut butter," Tasha said, watching Dara. "Sorry I can't offer you something more substantial, but we don't keep much here."

  "That's...that's okay." Dara warily bit into the sandwich. Her hunger proved too strong for restraint, though, and she devoured it in several bites.

  The kettle began to whistle, and Tasha pulled it off the burner, pouring the steaming water into the tea pot. A few seconds later, the aroma of the tea drifted over to Dara, and she shivered again. Despite the sweater, she was still very cold.

  "Here, I'll take that," Tasha said, seeing Dara look around helplessly, unsure of what to do with the container.

  "Thanks." Dara pressed her hands between her knees once again and stared at the floor.

  Quiet settled over the room as Tasha prepared the tea. A steaming mug appeared before Dara a few moments later.

  "Go ahead, Dara, you can take it," Tasha said.

  Dara took the mug, wrapping her hands around it and closing her eyes as the warmth seeped into her skin. She took a careful sip, her eyebrows rising in surprise as she found that it was the same tea she drank at home. The warmth cleared her mind, and she realized Tasha had called her by name.

  "How do you know my name?" she demanded.

  "Letizia told us," Tasha replied. Worried, Dara gnawed on her bottom lip.

  "Are you going to tell me what's going on now?" She set her half-drunk tea aside, uncertain whether she wanted the rest. Though she was grateful, she wasn't about to get comfortable. She didn't trust Mal, Raj, or Tasha, and she was also beginning to wonder about Letizia.

  Tasha took a deep breath and stared at a point over Dara's head for a moment, seemingly gathering her thoughts. "Letizia, Mal, Raj, and I..." She spoke slowly, still staring at the spot. "We're just...like-minded people, I guess."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "It's...I don't know, it's kind of hard to explain. Here, come with me and let me show you something." Tasha turned and walked off, and Dara scrambled to follow her.

  They walked into another concrete-lined room. Wooden shelves that looked as though they'd been cobbled together with scavenged scraps lined two of the four walls. Rows and rows of books sat on the shelves. Two upright wooden structures stood against one of the other walls, large sheets of some blank material balanced on them. A long table stood against the final wall, its surface scattered with a strange combination of materials: everything from bits of fiber and fabric to containers filled to the brim with shiny objects. Curious, Dara moved closer.

  "What the— Are those, are those insects?" Dara asked in disgust, leaping away from the table.

  "Yes," Tasha said, sounding rather amused. Indeed, as Dara turned to look at her, she saw the other girl studying her with a smile tugging at her lips.

  "Why would you have containers full of those?"

  "We use them for making pigments."

  "Pigments?"

  "For paints."

  "Paints?"

  "Is there an echo in here?" Tasha asked, her voice light. "Come on, Dara. I mean, I know this isn't the kind of stuff they teach you in your fancy Job Creator-sponsored school, but surely you know what paints are."

  "Of course I do," Dara snapped, offended. "We use paints all the time at Magnum. They're meant to help seal and protect metals from corrosion."

  "That's not exactly what we're using them for here."

  "What are you using them for, then?"

  "For painting, of course," Tasha said. The amused expression on her face made Dara even angrier, and the other girl must have noticed because she stopped smiling and looked seriously at Dara. "Damn. I sometimes forget how little most people on the inside know."

  "We know a great deal," Dara said stiffly. "In fact, Magnum's known for the top-notch education with which it provides all of its students."

  "They all say that." Tasha spoke in the sort of placating tones parents used with frustrated children. "What they don't teach you about is artistic expression. That's what we use the paints for."

  "Why would you waste your time with useless pursuits? There's so much to be done and so few resources that—"

  Tasha held up a hand and sighed. "Look, I don't want to get into a philosophical argument with you right now. What I'm trying to tell you is that the reason why Mal, Raj, Letizia, and I know each other is because we sometimes gather in safe places, where we can pursue our interests." She gestured around the room, and Dara followed the arc of her hand.

  "How did you get these things?" Dara asked, walking over to the shelf. She'd never seen a book other than her mother's, so the sheer number of volumes astonished her.

  "We gather them. But a lot of what you see here are things people have had hidden away for generations."

  "The Job Creators say that all paper should be recycled." Dara couldn't say why, but she didn't like the way she sounded, as if she were some sort of scolding instructor or something.

  "And that's why they're here," Tasha sighed. "No one here will try to recycle them."

  A sudden, disturbing thought struck Dara. If anyone were to suspect she had been involved in such frivolous pursuits, it would be frowned on by Magnum, which would do a lot of damage to her reputation.

  Still, she had to admit that some part of her was curious. What could possibly be so compelling about these books that it led people to steal them out of the domes and hide them in underground bunkers? The domes had plenty of entertainment on offer, for when people had free time.

  "Why not just catch the vids in the domes, or read from the choices available on the tablet library?" Dara asked.

  "Because those 'choices' are all controlled by the Job Creators," Mal replied.

  He walked over to her and stopped, arms crossed, as he studied her. Though his face was expressionless, she could see a gleam of anger in his eyes, and it made her shiver.

  Chapter 22

  "Where's Letizia? I want to see her right now," Dara demanded, refusing to be intimidated.

  "You can't see her right now because Raj is still busy working on her," Mal said.

  Dara felt a bone-chilling flash of fear. "Will she be okay?"

  Tasha shot a look at Mal that Dara couldn't interpret, and moved to Dara's side, gently taking her hand and squeezing it.

  "Letizia will be fine," she said. "Raj is a very good doctor. Just give him some time."

  "I need to get her back to the dome. The doctors there can take care of her."

  "She has a head injury, remember?" Mal asked. "Until Raj fully assesses her, Letizia can't go anywhere."

  "Does that mean—" Tasha began.

  "Yes, it means she needs to stay here as well," Mal told his sister, practically barking the words at her. Now Tasha looked worried. She glanced from Mal to Dara and back again.

  "You're not holding me hostage here! As soon as day breaks, I'm going back to the surface and I'm—"

  "You're what, going to wait for Magnum to come and rescue you? Let's assume that you're able to avoid the roaming gangs. Then what? Do you really think Magnum is going to send search party after search party until they find you?" Contempt pract
ically dripped from every word he spoke.

  "Letizia said a recovery team—" Dara began.

  "If your transport was operational, if it was sending signals to Magnum, and if those signals included life signs, then maybe Magnum would think about sending someone out."

  "Of course they would send someone out," Dara snapped. "We're assets. They won't just leave us out here to die."

  "You're only an asset as long as you're not a liability," Mal sneered. "If you think your beloved Job Creator cares about you, well, you have a lot to learn."

  "What is that supposed to mean? Of course Magnum cares about its Contributors. It devotes a lot of resources to us and we, in turn—"

  "Spare me your lectures. Tasha, make her a bed."

  Tasha opened her mouth, but before she could say anything, Mal strode back out of the room. Dara watched Tasha clench and unclench her fists and then take a deep breath before she spoke again.

  "Look, this isn't an ideal situation, but you can't go anywhere right now. If you went back, there would be questions about where Letizia is."

  "I'd tell them where she is so they could come and rescue her," Dara said, shocked and angry. "I wouldn't just leave her behind!"

  "Listen to me. If you did that, we'd all be in jeopardy. You and Letizia would both be under a cloud of suspicion, even if you were able to convince Magnum that you weren't conspiring with us.

  "As for me, Raj, and Mal, well, we would be accused of kidnapping. No doubt you know the penalty." Tasha locked eyes with Dara, studying her with such intensity that Dara couldn't look away.

  "But...but that wouldn't happen! You didn't kidnap us. And if you let me go now, I'll explain that you rescued us and that you took care of Letizia's wounds..."

  Tasha shook her head, and Dara's voice trailed off.

  "You know those trials always have the same verdict. And even if you don't care what happens to us, you surely care about what would happen to you. Think about those kidnapping victims, Dara. Did they return to their old jobs, everyone living out their lives happily?"

  "Well, no, but...but the other victims suffered from delusions or had injuries so severe that..." Why did she suddenly feel like she was grasping at straws?

  Again, Tasha shook her head. "Every single one of them suffered from delusions or was badly injured? Every single one?"

  "I don't know what you're trying to say, but whatever it is, I don't want to hear it. Magnum will want us both back. We're valuable members of the team." Even as she spoke the words, she could feel her own doubts returning. How much value did Magnum place on her mother now?

  "If you go back and tell them what happened, you and Letizia will be arrested and placed in holding, questioned relentlessly. They'll treat you like criminals because that's exactly how they'll look at you. That's how they look at everyone who steps out of line."

  This was dangerous talk, and it made Dara even more nervous. She looked around the room furtively, as if it were some kind of simulation, some test of her loyalty to Magnum.

  "So I stay here for days or weeks? And that's not going to look suspicious to anyone?" Dara demanded.

  Tasha sighed. "All I know is you can't go anywhere, not until Letizia is stable. When she is...well, then we'll have to figure something out."

  Unable to help herself, Dara burst into tears. It was just all too much. Just a few months ago, her world had seemed so perfect and ordered. Now she felt like her control over her own life was slipping through her fingers.

  Did you ever have any control? Hasn't everything already been decided for you, and you just went with it?

  Angrily, she swiped an arm across her face. Tasha stood close to her, holding something out. Dara blinked her furious tears back, saw a handkerchief, and began crying even harder.

  "Thank you," she sniffled, taking the handkerchief and twisting it in her fingers until her tears slowed.

  "I know this must all be a lot for you to take in," Tasha said sympathetically.

  Dara wiped the tears from her cheeks and blew her nose. "It's more than just this."

  "You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to."

  "The thing is, I do want to talk about it—and I don't get that. I mean, no offense to you, you've been nice. But I don't even know you. So why do I feel like I can just spill everything?" Dara's frankness seemed to surprise herself more than it did Tasha.

  "When people come here, when they find us...they're usually burdened," Tasha said, seeming to choose each word deliberately. She spoke so quietly that Dara forced herself to stop crying so she could hear what Tasha had to say.

  "I don't understand what you're talking about. You keep speaking like you're some sort of organization or something. Who are you?"

  "We're just a group of like-minded people. Really, we are," she added, seeing the doubtful look on Dara's face.

  Dara's frustration mounted. "Why are you being so secretive?'

  "Because, Dara, you know what we risk. Deep in your heart, you know."

  And she was right; Dara did know. She had guessed that Tasha and Mal weren't Roots, and given the fact that Raj appeared to have some sort of formal medical training, he had to be a Ballast.

  "The Job Creators," Dara said slowly.

  Tasha nodded. "The people who come here fall into one of two categories: either they've got nothing to lose, or they have everything to lose. Their entire lives, they've been led to believe certain things. Once they start to see that not everything fits within clearly defined parameters, it creates dissonance."

  "What does all that mean?" Dara asked impatiently, balling the sodden handkerchief in her fist.

  "It means that the people in the domes have been programmed by the Creators."

  "So you're trying to tell me that I don't know how to think for myself? That I'm some sort of robot or something?" Dara's voice rose in anger.

  "Everyone is programmed except for the Roots, because the Creators know they're not much of a threat. They're too busy trying to survive—though none of us are all that different from the Roots. The Creators may polish things up for some of us, but the fact is we're all completely focused on survival."

  "Where have you ever heard such things?" Dara asked. She felt both aghast and strangely excited. Listening meant nothing but trouble, and she knew she should just walk away. Yet, another part of her felt as if she'd been waiting a very long time to hear these words.

  "The problem isn't that she's heard them or thought them, it's that she's in the minority," a voice interjected.

  Startled, Dara turned and saw Raj leaning against the doorway. Though he looked tired, he seemed very alert, and Dara wondered how long he'd been standing there, listening to their conversation.

  "Why is that a problem?" she asked, in spite of herself. She felt as though she were standing at the edge of a vortex and couldn't resist being sucked in.

  "Are you happy with your life?" he asked her out of the blue.

  "Yes, of course," she answered automatically. "I'm a Contributor now, and Magnum has always provided me with a good life."

  "Uh huh," he said. "I used to sound just like you."

  "And what's wrong with that?" she asked angrily.

  "It's not that it's wrong," Tasha said, breaking in. "It's that it's limiting. Maybe that's not a bad thing; some people are content enough with limits. But shouldn't people have the freedom to choose?"

  "We do get to choose," Dara insisted.

  "Really?" Raj asked. "What if you decided you didn't want to work for Magnum? What if you wanted to sit at home and paint all day?"

  "Why would I want to do that? It's not a productive use of my time, and we must all be productive," Dara said. With a violent start, she realized she sounded just like her instructors.

  "Still sure you're so happy?" Raj asked, his voice gentler.

  "No," Dara replied in a very small voice.

  "It's not easy to face up to this, which is why most people don't," Tasha said.

  "The Job Creators c
ount on it," Raj added. "Why do you think they don't want us doing things they say aren't productive?"

  "But they don't stop us. It's not like books aren't allowed! And if I wanted to paint something, I could," Dara said, grasping at the last shreds of her convictions.

  "They don't need to outlaw anything," Tasha told her. "They just need to express their disapproval."

  "If they don't approve, it jeopardizes your reputation," Raj said.

  Agitated, Dara pulled away from Tasha and rose from her seat so that she could pace the room. "I see what you're saying, but I just can't... I don't..."

  "I think you need to sleep. It's been a very trying night for you, and you're probably in shock."

  Though she hadn't felt tired, Dara now realized that fatigue was crashing down on her. "What about Letizia?"

  "She's going to be fine. I patched the cut on her head. She has a very mild concussion, but no other signs of injury. I'll evaluate her again in the morning but, other than a bad headache, she's okay. She's sleeping, but she asked me to tell you she'll explain things in the morning."

  "Come on, I'll take you somewhere you can rest," Tasha said.

  A tired nod was the best Dara could manage. As she and Tasha left the room, she could feel Raj's eyes on her. When they finally made it to a bed, Dara looked around the room long enough to notice that it had several roughly made bunks before she dropped onto the closest one and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  Chapter 23

  When Dara woke the next morning, she panicked. She had no idea where she was. She lay clutching the bunk while trying to slow her rapid breathing and pounding heart. As her fingers moved restlessly over the rough sides of the bed, the events of the previous night flashed through her mind, and she sat up abruptly. Letizia, she needed to see Letizia.

  After a few missteps, she found her way back into the room with the sofa. Mal, Tasha, and Raj stood inside the room, and from the looks of things, they'd been engaged in a serious conversation just before she entered. Uneasily, she looked from face to face, trying to figure out what was going on.

  "Good morning, Dara," Tasha said. "Can I get you some tea? Are you hungry?" As she spoke, she walked up to Dara and gently took her arm, guiding her into the room. Mal abruptly strode out.