Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Forty Four

Enna

    It's been four days since I spoke with Matthew.
Wiping sticky sweat away from my forehead with the back of a hand, I cross the Training Facility in search for Danny. Rebels of all shapes, sizes, and genders stream past me. A few spare kind words or a gesture or two, but most pass me without greeting. Today's training session was particularly nerve-wracking, seeing as tomorrow's the deadline.
The start of the war.
I hadn't had another chance to speak with Matthew since that night because of my busy schedule, and the underlying fear that Fake Enna might catch him talking to me. Hopefully he hasn't learned some new, key bit of information that would save all of us if known. If he has, I won't hear about it.
"Danny?" I ask, stepping into Sam's old office.
"Yes, Enna?" Danny sighs. He sits lazily behind the desk, loosely carrying a pencil in his hand and staring down at a battle plan sketch. "What do you need?"
"I need to talk to you about Oscar." I slide down into the chair across from him and watch calmly as he rolls his eyes and presses his fingers into his temples.
"Oh, God. I don't have time for this."
"Well I do," I mutter, an edge of steel laced into my words. "He's my friend, and you have no right to deny him the chance to fight."
"Do you not see that he's in a wheelchair?"
"Of course I do," I snap.
"Then what do you propose I do?" I watch Danny carefully, feeling as though I'm being pressed flat. I know that joining the rebels' ranks would be much too dangerous for Oscar, but maybe...
"At least let him hang back for first aid." Danny pulls his eyebrows together, thinking. Then he shrugs resignedly.
"Do you think he'll like that?"
"I don't know..." I admit. "But we can't just forget about him, right? He's one of the original front-runners of the rebellion. He deserves the chance to make a difference." Danny sets down his pencil and leans back in his chair, eyeing me curiously.
"Why do you feel so responsible for him?" My mouth falls slightly agape, and I find myself surprised.
"Because he's my friend," I splutter, rising to my feet indignantly. "What kind of a question is that?" Danny remains calm, running a finger over the edge of the worn desk.
"Are you sure it's not because you feel responsible for his injury?" My heart jumps in my chest and I blanch. How could he possibly know that? He wasn't there!
"Is it that obvious?" I whisper numbly, slowly slipping back into my chair. Danny smiles sadly and encloses my palm in his warm hand. Something unfamiliarly tender glints in his dark eyes, and a sudden calmness permeates the air.
"I pity you, Enna. I can't imagine how hard it must be to stand in your shoes." I remain silent, mind whirring. The words sound so uncharacteristic of Danny that I start to wonder if he's messing with me. Father might utter them, but certainly not Danny.
And then I remember how Father could appear within other people. My hands grow unsteady. Does that work outside of dreams? Eyes wide, heart pounding, I decide to find out for sure.
"I thought we could only talk in that special place..." I mutter cryptically, never removing my eyes from Danny's. He smiles, wide and white.
"Anything's possible, child." I was right. Nervously, I glance over my shoulder to make sure our conversation isn't being overheard.
    I don't think I'll ever get used to how quickly Father can possess a person and speak through them. It's unnerving.
"How long were you listening?" Danny shrugs.
"I'm always listening."
"Why are you here? I don't need to talk. I've got a lot of preparing to do..."
"A war is pointless when it isn't fueled by ideas. Sound minds are most important when facing an enemy. I believe Mr. Matthew told you that." Danny stands and stretches, brushing his hand along the stone wall. "This is a very beautiful place, by the way. Ingenious."
"Wait... What?" I shake my head. "You're not helping me."
"What I'm trying to say is that I'm worried for you. In turn, I'm worried for the outcome of this war. Indeed the aptly named 'Hidden Allies' are prepared to take back what they perceive to be theirs. Your government is eager to knock out all of its opposition. But are you ready to let go of the personal hell you've been building around yourself? Only then can you experience the full power that you possess." My stomach drops through the floor and a cold sweat breaks out on the small of my back.
"Are you saying that... that we'll lose because of me?" My voice breaks and Danny crosses over to me, gripping my hands tightly in his own. I resist the urge to slap him away. I have to keep reminding myself that it's Father in there.
"Of course not, Enna. I just want you to know that you're doing noble work. To move forward properly, you must allow the things that give you pause to float away. Matthew is being held prisoner: that's not your fault. Oscar is in a wheelchair: you are not to blame."
"But how do I do that? How do I let go?" Danny's eyes twinkle with kindness and infinite wisdom.
"Why are you fighting this war in the first place, Enna? For what purpose do you refuse to turn yourself in?"
"I..." My voice falters and I stare numbly ahead at the wall. Amid all of the planning and worrying, I'd never thought to ask myself why I was going through all of it in the first place. Why did I run away from the AGD? Why did I save Matthew from being plugged in when I knew it could cost me my life? Why was I appointed leader of the rebellion in the first place? "Because freedom is our right. We have a right to live how we wish and to prosper without guilt. I'd sooner die than give up that freedom." I realize that the words are true as soon as they pass through my lips.
Danny smiles and the corners of his eyes crinkle. He nods. Then his face falls to an expression of mild confusion and he stumbles over to the desk, scratching his head. Father is gone.
"Woah... I must have blacked out there for a minute. Sorry, what were you saying again?"
"I-I... Well..." I shake my head. It's no use to explain to Danny what had happened. "It's nothing. Thanks for the talk." I smile. Feeling significantly better than before, I stand and stride into the Training Facility, heading towards the showers to rinse off.

* * *

Feeling the need to stay active, I decide to wander the Depot's tunnels just as I'd always done in the past. But this time, I feel much more alone than before. No matter how hard I try to think positively, the same possibilities continue to rise and viciously wipe away the hope. Only movement can dispel them, moment by moment.
A glass door appears just down the hallway I tread, and I pause in surprise. It's the same door that leads to the Labs. Where Mark was unplugged. I can't put my finger on why I decided to travel this route, but a sudden curiosity forces me to enter the waiting room. The gleaming door slams shut behind me and I stare at the occupants of the room, shocked. At least ten people occupy the room. The majority of them wear RScreens. Some surgeons and family members guide around confused-looking patients with fresh scars on either one or both of their temples. Soft voices and dazed questions float through the air like clouds. I feel a tug on my right sleeve and jump in shock.
Besides me, a woman with graying hair, large eyes and a dirt-smeared RScreen stares up at me. I recoil and open my mouth to utter a warning, but nothing comes out in my fear. The woman tilts her head and looks down at her stomach through the glass screens. She mutters something under her breath, but I have trouble hearing her.
"I'm sorry, can you repeat that?" I ask carefully. The woman tugs my sleeve again and repeats herself, slightly louder this time.
"I'm hungry." The simple phrase, the simple plea for help, sends waves of pity and confusion crashing through my mind. Before I can properly respond, a flustered-looking, middle-aged nurse with brown skin and long, dark hair approaches me.
"What do you need? We're very busy."
"Oh, I don't need anything. But..." I lower my voice. "Could you tell me what's going on here?"
"Several of the rebels from Philadelphia were still plugged in, or had I.D. chips inserted. They might have been saved off the streets by people who refused the technology in the first place. We're trying to unplug them all before the war begins. God knows we could use the extra fighters."
"Really?" I ask, astonished. As head of the rebel army, I find it odd that I hadn't known about this initiative before now. "Aren't the Members controlled by the government? Why aren't they trying to fight back against us?" I spare a glance at the docile old woman beside me, who keeps rubbing her stomach and searching the room for assistance. The doctor pulls her eyebrows together, looking confused.
"RScreened victims are harmless. The government has no control over their actions. What gave you that idea?" Black creeps in at the edges of my vision, and my breaths turn shallow.
"Miss, are you alright?" I hardly register the woman's concerned voice as my legs grow weak.
"Yeah, I'm..." I sink into a chair and hold a hand to my chest. If this woman is being truthful, then Sam lied about everything, and the things my mother told me about Members were completely false. Members are harmless. They aren't, in fact, controlled by the government. Yet we were taught to fight them, to knock them unconscious, to kill them...
Well, maybe that was the plan all along. To numb the minds of the conformers and turn the rebels into cold-blooded murderers. To outweigh the good with bad. After all, Sam turned out to be a traitor. If the government doesn't crawl into the minds of their RScreened population, then people who are plugged in truly cannot think for themselves. I think about Mark and my heart clenches.
"I've got to get back to work," the surgeon mutters apologetically, scurrying off and leaving me alone in the waiting room.
"Can someone get me some food?" The RScreened woman whispers.