“Our movement here has spawned similar ones across the globe,” Kaede replies, crossing her arms. “Wherever people are pissed at their governments. Kinda morale-boosting for us to see it on the wall.” When she sees me continue to analyze the map with a concentrated frown, she runs a quick hand across the middle of North America. “There’s the Republic we all know and love. And that’s the Colonies.” She points to a smaller, more broken-up spread of land sharing the Republic’s eastern border. I study the red circles denoting cities in the Colonies. New York City, Pittsburgh, St. Louis, Nashville. Do they glow like my father said?
Kaede goes on, sweeping her hand up north and down south. “Canada and Mexico each keep a strict demilitarized zone between themselves and both the Republic and Colonies. Mexico’s got her own share of Patriots. Then here’s whatever’s left of South America. This all used to be a huge continent too, y’know. Now it’s Brazil”—she points to a large, triangular island far south of the Republic—“Chile, and Argentina.”
Kaede cheerily points out what the continents are and what they used to be. What I see as Norway, France, Spain, Germany, and the British Isles used to be part of a larger place called Europe. The rest of Europe’s people, she says, fled to Africa. Mongolia and Russia aren’t extinct nations, contrary to Republic teachings. Australia used to be one solid landmass. Then there are the superpowers. China’s enormous, floating metropolises are built entirely over the water and have permanently black skies. “Hai Cheng,” Kaede interjects. “Sea cities.” I learn that Africa wasn’t always the flourishing, technologically advanced continent it is today, gradually filling up with universities, skyscrapers, and international refugees. And Antarctica, believe it or not, was once uninhabited and completely covered in ice. Now, like China and Africa, it houses the world’s tech capitals and attracts a fair share of tourists. “The Republic and the Colonies have such pathetic tech in comparison,” Kaede adds. “I’d like to visit Antarctica someday. Supposed to be gorgeous.”
She tells me the United States used to be one of those superpowers. “Then came the war,” Kaede adds, “and all their top thinkers literally fled for higher ground. Antarctica caused the flooding, y’know. Things were already going downhill, but then the sun went haywire and melted all the Antarctic ice. Flooding like you and I couldn’t even imagine. Millions dropped dead from the temperature changes. Now that must’ve been a spectacle, yeah? The sun reset itself eventually, but the climate never did. All that freshwater mixed up with seawater and nothing’s been the same since.”
“The Republic never talks about any of this.”
Kaede rolls her eyes. “Oh, come on. It’s the Republic. Why would they?” She points toward one small monitor in the corner that seems to be broadcasting news headlines. “You wanna see what the Republic is like from a foreigner’s perspective? Here.”
When I pay closer attention to the headlines, I realize that the voiceover is in a language I can’t understand. “Antarctican,” Kaede explains when I glance questioningly at her. “We’re feeding in one of their channels. Read the captions.”
The screen shows an aerial view of a continent, with the text REPUBLIC OF AMERICA hovering over the land. A woman’s voice narrates, and right at the bottom of the screen is a running marquee of her translated words: “—to find new ways of negotiating with this heavily militarized rogue state, especially now that the transition of power to the Republic’s new Elector is complete. African president Ntombi Okonjo proposed a halt today to the United Nations’ aid for the Republic until there is enough evidence of a peace treaty between the isolationist country and its eastern neighbor—”
Isolationist. Militarized. Rogue. I stare at the words. To me, the Republic had been portrayed as the epitome of power, a ruthless, unstoppable military machine. Kaede grins at the expression on my face as she finally leads us away from the monitors. “Suddenly the Republic doesn’t seem so powerful, does it? Puny little secretive state, groveling for international aid? I’m telling you, Day—all it takes is one generation to brainwash a population and convince them that reality doesn’t exist.”
We walk over to a table with two slim comps sitting on it. The young man hovering over one of the computers is the same guy who’d flashed Kaede a V sign on the railroad tracks, the one with dark skin and light eyes. Kaede taps him on the shoulder. He doesn’t react right away. Instead, he types a few last lines into whatever’s on the screen and then slides into a sitting position on the table. I catch myself admiring his grace. A Runner for sure. He crosses his arms and waits patiently for Kaede to introduce us.
“Day, this is Pascao,” she says to me. “Pascao’s the undisputed leader of our Runners—he’s been eager to meet you, to put it lightly.”
Pascao holds out a hand to me, his pale eyes fixed intensely on mine. He gives me a brilliant white smile. “A pleasure,” he says in an excited, breathless rush. His cheeks flush red as I smile back at him. “Suffice it to say we’ve all heard a great deal about you. I’m your biggest fan. Biggest fan.”
I don’t think anyone’s ever flirted with me so blatantly before, except maybe a boy I remember from Blueridge sector. “Nice to meet another Runner,” I reply, shaking his hand. “I’m sure I’ll pick up some new tricks from you.”