Page 19 of Privilege

8

AMITY

Pennsylvania hasa lot of farms and mountains. At one point I see a helicopter, something I’ve never seen outside of videos. I lean over Ren to stick my face up to the window, watching the blades spin faster than I can see, the body painted green and gray.

I wonder if it’s a Peaceful Society helicopter. It has a vaguely threatening look to it. I’ve heard that rich people up in New England use them to travel around, although with high-speed trains and ebuses I can’t imagine wanting to be suspended in the air with all that noise and danger.

Ren clears their throat and I scoot back.

“Sorry! I’ve never seen a helicopter before.”

“Aw. Getting out into the world for the first time, Ami.”

Ren uses my new nickname and I flinch. Ren glances at me sharply.

“Not your only name?” Ren asks in a low voice, close to my ear. I shrug. Ren hesitates a minute, then gives me a wry smile.

“I have another name too. Serenity.” Their lips purse nervously.

I nod, trying to stay matter of fact. Serenity is a common female name in the Peaceful Society. I’m not sure what to say, so I wait. I wish I could share my name back, but I don’t. Ren’s look is searching before they chuckle a little.

“Dumb name, really. I don’t use it anymore,” Ren adds carelessly.

“I like Ren,” I tell them, and I do. It fits them. A strong, lean name, soft in the mouth.

Ren nods once and turns back to the window.

The mountains are bigger here, the hillsides are a thick, bright green. Ren cranes their head to see ahead.

“The border’s coming up. You ready, kiddo?”

My stomach flips and I connect right away with my breath, slowing down, steadying myself.

Ren grins widely. “You’re good at that, aren’t you?”

“At what?” I ask, breathing through my nose to regulate my breath.

“All that mindful non-reactivity stuff. PS I’m-A-Robot garbage.”

I giggle nervously. “I don’t think that’s what it’s called.”

“You know, PS for Passive Submission.”

“Ren!” I exclaim, knocking my shoulder into theirs.

“Pliant Subordination?”

“Okay, okay, that’s enough,” I whisper, scandalized.

Ren waits a beat and tilts their chin proudly at me as I repress the giggles that threatened to overtake me.

“That works too, right?” they ask.

“What does?”

“You know, humor. Not everything has to be repressed, Ami. Sometimes you can just laugh about it.”

Unconventional. But they’re not wrong. I feel better, lighter, not as nervous about crossing the border.

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