Chapter 10
Tam
I pretend to tie my shoe as I bend down beside a flowerbed next to the trail that runs along the lake. I check to make sure no one is looking my way before shoving the plastic casing of a writing pen down into the soil at the edge of the bed, right in the corner where the stone pavers form a ninety-degree angle. Quickly covering it up with some dirt, I finish re-tying my shoe before standing up and walking away.
Veritas suggested that we practice a dead-drop at least once a week so we’d have a way to communicate with each other outside of the usual, always-monitored electronic methods. That way, if one of us got caught, the authorities wouldn’t be able to link us together very easily.
We talked about how to make the dead-drop capsule when we last met. It was ingenious in its simplicity. I was to take a ball-point pen, remove the ink cartridge, and cut the tube in half. Next, write a note on a piece of paper small enough that it would fit in the tube once it was rolled up. By leaving the cap on the up-facing end of the tube, it would prevent the note from being damaged in the rain. I would place the tube in this pre-determined location on Wednesday afternoon, and she would pick it up on Thursday morning. She, in turn, would do the same thing in a different location on Thursday afternoon, and I’d pick up her message on Friday morning.
For the first drop, I was just supposed to confirm that I was ready to go ahead with the meeting we’d planned to attend together. On Friday, when I picked up her reply, she’d confirm the details about where and when we’d meet. I smiled as I walked to class after my first drop. It felt exciting and a bit dangerous. I was looking forward to seeing Veritas again.
Now, it’s Friday—my turn to pick up her reply. The drop site is out in front of the cafeteria, beside a bench that faces the water fountain. The first time I come by to retrieve it, I find a pair of students sitting there, in deep discussion about something or other, so I walk on by. I go inside the cafeteria and get breakfast, positioning myself by one of the windows facing the courtyard so I can see when the couple leaves.
I’m almost finished with my cereal when the pair get up and walk away. After taking care of my tray, I make my way over to the bench. As I get closer, I see another couple, walking hand-in-hand, headed straight towards my objective. I’m tempted to speed up, not wanting them to sit down and delay my retrieval, but I force myself to keep the same pace.
Got to keep it cool. No need to hurry.
Thankfully, they keep walking, and I’m able to commandeer the bench for myself. I put my backpack on the seat beside me so that no one else will sit down, retrieve my tablet, and begin scrolling through some chemistry notes as I pretend to study. After a few minutes, I transfer the backpack to the ground, immediately to my right. A few more minutes of fake chemistry study, and I’m ready to pick up my message, which is supposed to be located just behind the right rear foot of the bench, embedded in the mulch.
To position myself naturally, I kneel down beside my backpack on one knee and put my tablet inside, then I reach around behind my bag and feel around for the message capsule. I come up empty.
Great. Your first dead drop and you blow it. Some spy you’d make—Double-Oh-Zero to the rescue.
I take a seat once more on the bench, looking down at my feet dejectedly when a crumpled yellow ball of paper suddenly drops between my shoes. By the time I look up, I only see the back of someone walking away but can’t tell who it is. Looking left and right to make sure that no one is staring at me, I lean down and pick up the paper, unrolling it to reveal the message written inside.
As you face the bench, it’s on the right-hand side behind the rear foot.
I close my eyes and lean my head back, kicking myself inside for my mistake. I look around to see if I can spot anyone who might be Veritas looking back at me. But of the several students in the area, all of them are walking around, busy with their own lives and not looking in my direction.
I tuck the note in my pocket and go through a comical process that takes several minutes, trying to nonchalantly re-position my backpack to the other end of the bench and perform my note capsule retrieval routine on the correct side. Having finally achieved my objective, I tuck the capsule in my backpack and return to my dorm room to read it.
The note contains the location and time of our meeting place for tonight. Just after dark, at what appears to be a secluded spot, I’m to bring the cloak I saved from the reveal party, putting it on as soon as I arrive at the location. There’s a reminder to put tape over my camera portal, too. The last line makes my pulse speed up: I’m looking forward to seeing you again!
Does she like me that way? Is it possible?
I try to talk myself out of the prospect so I won’t be too disappointed when I find out she has no romantic feelings for me whatsoever, but I’m unsuccessful. I practically can’t think of anything else for the rest of the day. By the time it gets dark, I’m a bag of nerves. I tell myself that a smart person would be worried about the possibility of getting expelled from school if they’re discovered attending this meeting and not about whether the girl they’re going with is interested in them or not.
We rendezvous at the appointed place and time. I see a smile on her avatar as I approach, and she gives me a small wave. I wave back, and we stand next to each other in silence per our instructions until a third cloaked figure shows up and whispers something I don’t quite catch. Veritas responds with what I assume must be the appropriate passphrase, and off we go, looking like a small band of monks headed to a midnight mass at some monastery.
It’s a familiar feeling as we creep along wooded paths, deserted back alleyways, and finally arrive at a warehouse on the edge of town. There’s no descent below ground-level this time, only a bulky-looking guard standing in the shadows beside a door. Our guide motions for us to wait as he proceeds forward and says something to the guard, who then opens the door for us. Once we’re all inside, I see that there’s a circle of chairs placed around a small platform where several other people are already waiting. The lights are dim, and from what I can tell, it looks like black plastic has been taped over all of the windows.
We’re instructed to remove our helmets, which are placed in a large box by the door, and then we’re asked to take a seat in the circle. I glance around but thankfully don’t recognize anyone from my identity group meetings. The fewer people who know I’m attending this meeting and also know who I am on the outside, the better. I repeat my meeting name inside my head over and over, hoping I don’t slip up when it comes time to introduce myself if that even happens in this type of meeting.
It takes about fifteen minutes before the remaining chairs are filled. Then, almost immediately, a cloaked figure steps up on the podium and lifts back her hood to reveal her face. Her skin is brown, and she has straight, black, shoulder-length hair and appears older than me, but not by much—maybe in her twenties. Her eyes are strikingly green.
“Friends, welcome. We celebrate our freedom to live in the open together, free from fear, and free to be who we are.”
Like a chorus around the room, the phrase is repeated back. Veritas repeats it word for word, but I’m caught off guard and just listen, not wanting to be the fumbling follow-on. I notice there are others who remain silent along with me. The leader continues.
“Please listen to this message from the council.”
She produces a small disk from inside of her cloak and places it in the middle of the platform as she steps down. A hologram of a tall man appears above the disk. He looks to be in his fifties. He’s white, bald, has a salt-and-pepper closely cropped beard, and is wearing all black.
“Greetings from the freedom council. We’re glad that you’ve decided to attend this meeting and take the next step in the struggle to restore the rightful freedoms belonging to all members of the human race. We welcome you.
“For those of you who have brought another interested party, thank you, and congratulations, you’ve completed the next step on your journey in proving yourself to us. In a few moments, one of my associates will lead you to another room, where you’ll be briefed on other opportunities available to you to help in the struggle for freedom.
“For the rest of you, congratulations to you as well. You’ve shown great courage in coming here tonight. But you’ve revealed something more than courage; you’ve demonstrated that you have conviction. A conviction that goes beyond simple mental agreement with the cause of freedom. A conviction that is forming in your soul that freedom is worth working for, worth getting outside of your comfort zone, worth risking something personally. And that kind of conviction is valuable to the world, and it’s something we all share.
“When the others leave, I invite you to remain here and learn about the ways in which you can join us in continuing the struggle for our freedom so that one day, we will all live in a world free from the fear of government and societal coercion and oppression. And so, along with you, I proclaim our liberty: We celebrate our freedom to live in the open together, free from fear, and free to be who we are.”
As I listen, I realize something. I realize that I agree with the words that this man is speaking. We are different, he and I, we look different, talk differently, and probably have many differences in what we like and believe, but we have one thing in common. We both want to live in a world where everyone is free to express who they really are without fear, a world where everyone respects the right of everyone else to be different and to think differently from one another, to enjoy the beautiful mess of humanity.
As he ends his short speech, I find that I’m repeating his last words along with everyone else, but with a conviction that is my own.
The holographic image disappears, and the young woman who spoke at the beginning returns to the platform.
“For all of you who are attending this training meeting for the first time, please remain in this room when the others leave. The rest of you, please come with me.”
Veritas stands up along with others. I look at her, somewhat confused. She smiles at me and gives me a little wave while mouthing the word “bye” silently. She looks excited and maybe a little guilty. I wasn’t expecting this, and I feel a little nervous. As I look around at the others who remain seated, I get the sense that I’m not alone in my feelings.
The young woman leads Veritas and the others out of the room, returning a short while later to address those of us who remain.
“Welcome, again. My name is Pam. I know you’re all probably a bit confused by the fact that the person you came with has just left the room. I’ll explain the reason for that in just a bit. You’re all here to learn about what we do, and hopefully, you’re interested in helping us. As the council member explained, we’re working to build a better world where we all have the freedom to be who we really are without having to hide behind masks and suits. You’ve all already been to a reveal party, or you wouldn’t be here, so you have first-hand experience of one of the activities we’re involved in. Those parties serve multiple purposes. First and foremost, they sow the seeds of freedom in the hearts and minds of others.
“For most of you, it’s been years since you were allowed to be un-masked around anyone you didn’t know without being in an identity-group meeting. I don’t know about you, but when I went to my first reveal party, I suddenly became aware of everything that I’d been missing since grade school. It was like a whole world was out there that I was being prevented from experiencing by the rest of society. And I got mad. And I wanted to help change things, so I joined this group.
“Which brings me to a second, important purpose for the reveal parties. They give us an opportunity to discover and engage people like yourselves who will help advance the cause of freedom. Hopefully, your being here means you want to be a part of this movement. If so, this is your opportunity.
“So here’s how this works. If you want to help, then we’ll give each of you a role in helping set up a reveal party. In addition to helping set up the party, you will also attend the party as a participant. You’ll sit at the table and participate in the Q&A just like you did at your first party, but with one significant difference. You’ll be looking to identify someone in the group of people you talk to who might, like yourselves, be interested in taking the next step, to join us in the fight to restore our freedoms. Once you identify that person, you’ll invite them to come with you to the next meeting like this, where, hopefully, they’ll make the same commitment to help that we’re asking you to make today.
My heart sinks a little as I realize that I’m the person Veritas chose at that reveal party. I was her ticket to advance to the next level. I feel special and not-so-special all at the same time. Was I mistaken about feeling there might be something romantic might be developing between us? Was I just a project for the cause and nothing more? I’m confused again. I can’t help feeling some disappointment at the possibility as I continue listening.
“And, as part of your initiation into the next level, we ask that you don’t tell that person about this selection process. I know many of you are feeling a little bit betrayed by not being clued into what was going to happen tonight. I get that. I’ve been in your shoes, and I can guess what some of you are thinking right now. But understand this: this cause is fragile right now, and it deserves to be protected. This process teaches new people to learn to keep their mouths shut, and it protects our group from broadcasting information about when and where our recruiting meetings are happening until we can be sure we can trust the person we’re speaking with. It may not feel good, but it was necessary. Remember, it’s not just about you; it’s about all of us. We have to put the good of the whole above our own individual desires if we’re gonna succeed.”
What she’s saying makes sense. My emotions about it are going all over the place, but she’s right, and inside, I know it. Whatever is or isn’t going on between Veritas and me is confusing and possibly thrilling, but none of that changes the fact that I want to be here for other reasons, too. I want to be here to help this cause—for myself and for others. I want to be here for the promise of freedom that this group seems to be helping to promote.
“And, one more thing,” she continues. “The name you sign up with tonight? That’s your name from now on whenever you’re doing anything for the cause. Not your real name, not the meeting name you use in your identity groups, but your freedom name. Pick it, and stick with it. We don’t share our real names so we can protect the cause. One day we won’t need to do any of this, and we can know each other’s real names and shout them from the rooftops, but, like a little tender plant, today we have to protect this cause until it grows into a tree strong enough to handle anything—and it will be strong enough one day, I’m sure of it.
“Now, you need to make a decision. If you want to join us in the cause of freedom, come over here and sign up on this list with your freedom name and the name of the person who brought you, then come sit back down. If you aren’t ready and want to think about it, then we ask that you stay in this room for about another thirty minutes, and the person you came with will be back, and you can leave with them.”
I get in the line that’s beginning to form to sign up. I’m four people back and desperately trying to think of what I want my freedom name to be. In the grand scheme of things, I’m sure it’s not important, but I want it to mean something, to be special. When I get to the front of the line, I write down the name of a character from a book I read once, a character who took risks to do what was right, even when it cost him something to do so. I write ‘Thomas’ down, followed by ‘Veritas’ in the space for the person’s name who brought me.
Everyone in our group signs up, and then we’re led into another room where we spend the next thirty minutes learning about how we’ll help set up the next reveal party. I feel another stab of un-specialness when I learn that the dead drop process that Veritas taught me is the exact method the group leadership will use to communicate with me. The hope that there was anything more between Veritas and me than this cause suffers another blow. By the end of the meeting, I’m feeling depressed, to be honest. I’ve gained a cause but lost almost any hope for a possible romantic relationship with Veritas.
