Touch: Awakening

Part Four

There were oceans before The Troubles, vast bodies of salty water, lined with beaches of sand or rock, sometimes cliffs. The Government said it was only a matter of time until they disappeared completely. Have they already? Or are they sitting there, glistening in the sun?

I've yet to find an ocean Realm. To the best of my knowledge, they don't exist. And the one place I know of where I might be able to find the answers to my questions has so far not provided any.

The library at the university always smells stale and musty, and you view everything through a vapor-thin haze. Tables are scattered between the stacks, row upon row of shelves lined with books, though the books themselves are rarely opened. There are small alcoves carved out of the walls, perfect for two or three people to squeeze into. Parker and I claimed one for ourselves at the beginning of the school year when it became apparent we'd be spending a lot of time in this place. I've got my mini open to my copy of Angels in America: Millenium Approaches, and I should be preparing discussion notes for class on Thursday. I won a brutal fight with the head of the English department to get this play on my syllabus.

I want my students to think. I want them to wonder if oceans exist. I want them to ask about the differences between then and now. Roy Cohn was a real person. The information's buried, but it's there: McCarthy's spook, the man who talked a judge into executing a woman accused of treason, who refused to admit he'd rather have sex with a man than a woman and ended up dying because of it.

I want them to wonder, period. To ask questions, to think for themselves instead of swallowing everything the Government says in a single gulp without bothering to chew.

Right now I want to know if this is how a library is supposed to look.

And I might also be scanning the requirements for an impregnation waiver on one of my datpads. I've read them almost as many times as I've read the details of the impregnation procedure, and I believe I have a shot at qualifying, but I don't want to misinterpret some random word and end up shit out of luck.

I glance out at the stacks again. Parker's supposed to meet me any time now, and I don't want her to see the waiver. She's been better, the past few days, her actions more subdued, her mutterings quieter. I don't want to risk sending her back to the edge with my plan.

"Hey." Brij pokes her head in. "What're you working on?"

I blank the screen of my datpad and nudge it aside, waving her in. "Talking about Angels soon, and I'm trying to come up with discussion questions."

She shakes her head. "Can't believe you got approval for that one. Wasn't it controversial when it debuted?"

It still is. "Yeah. That's kind of the point. Controversy breeds discussion, and I want these guys to talk, not just sit there staring at me." I shut off the mini. "What's on the broadcast for tonight?" Bridget's a production assistant for the news program. It mostly reports on new laws handed down by the Government, tracks changes to the Realms, reviews books and movies and music. Basically, nothing of interest. Unlike during The Troubles, the world today practically runs itself. When the threat of violence is taken away, so is the need for power.

Would devolving into anarchy be such a bad thing? At least then something interesting might happen.

"More of the same. They're decreasing the number of waivers per business, tightening the regulations. That's about it." She shrugs and drops into a chair on the other side of the table. "How's Parker?"

"Fine," I answer automatically, my thoughts screeching to a stop. The number of waivers handed out per year is already small. If they decrease the number even more, my chances go from slim to miniscule. I need a waiver. I don't want to end up like Parker, knowing I'm potentially screwing myself sideways and helpless to stop. "She should be here soon. Hopefully she remembered her notes."