Page 20 of Privilege

The bus slows to a stop while I’m still grinning to myself. I rub my leg, feeling the inside pocket with the money. It’s all I have to go on at this point, besides a weird seatmate and incomplete knowledge of how the real world works.

The road is closed ahead. A big sign says WELCOME TO NEW YORK under layers of graffiti. Next to it a newer sign marks the border of the Peaceful Society and entry into New England.

The doors in the front open and two CSOs sweep on board, weapons on their backs and their belts. They wait for the last murmurs on to die down. Then one speaks in a quiet voice.

“Please be ready. Your face will be scanned, and your watch if you have one. As a deportee of the Peaceful Society you must petition the government for reentry, including a hearing and the presentation of evidence and character witnesses. This information can be found at stations along the border of our territory.”

The women start down the aisle of the bus with handheld face scanners. None of us have a SafeGuard—those were all removed before we were deported—but lots of people have e-watches like the one my mom put on me.

You can’t have a phone for private use in Greater Maryland. I’ve heard about phones and e-glasses and tablets and everything, but we were taught in school thatpeace and safety was more important than what my teachers called “certain kinds of entertainment.”

They stop at a boy ahead of me.

“Do you have any proof of identification?” one Officer asks him, patient. The boy shakes his head. With a small sigh the CSO sneaks a glance at the other Officer and leans down to talk to the boy in a lower voice.

“I can issue you an e-watch. You’ll need it in Canada to access just about anything.” She goes to unzip a pouch at her belt but the boy declines it.

“I don’t—I won’t need it. Don’t waste it on me, save it for someone else. I’ll be fine,” he reassures her.

I glance at Ren in question but they shake their head slightly and I do more “PS stuff” to calm myself and refocus on the seat ahead of me.

When the Officers get to us, Ren and I stick our watches and look up into the face scanner. The Officer has no reaction whatsoever. I’m not sure if she knows my secret or not, she gives no indication.

When they get to the back of the train car they turn and walk back up the aisle, eyes sweeping over all of the people tucked into the seats. They turn back one more time and the Officer says simply, “Go in Peace.”

A couple people murmur it back, me included. It’s a refrain that’s been drilled into us since we were kids, but Ren stays pointedly silent. We both let out a deep sigh when the door clicks shuts. With a gentle tug the train starts forward again.

We drive a short distance and stop, the first stop in New York. A bunch of people get off and new people get on. It’s a lot of work boots and flannel shirts.

I’ve heard about New England. New York and the northern states rejected most technology after the Integration. The New England territory gives their Citizens much more freedom and privacy than the Peaceful Society, but only after they completed a huge reengineering project to decommission most of the public infrastructure around networks and the internet. Their cell phone towers were taken down and dismantled.

Everyone up here communicates over old-fashioned phone lines. Sometimes my mom talks about how my grandmother would have felt right at home in New England. None of the New Yorkers are wearing an e-watch.

When the train starts up again, I’m ready. It’s time to access the money that’s sewn into my pants. I tell Ren I’m heading to the bathroom and lurch my way to the back of the train car.

I slide the door open and step inside. It’s brown, small, and cramped. I use the bathroom and reach down into my pants, feeling for the tell-tale weight of the packet sewn in. I contort, trying to figure out the best way to access what’s inside.

The stitches at the top, closing up the top of the pocket, are loose. I tug at the thread and it breaks easily, and I keep tugging and ripping until I can wedge my hand inside and slide out an envelope.

I gently tear the envelope, easing it open. There are a ton of Peaceful Society bills in here—100s, more money than I’ve ever seen. There’s a different currency also, maybe Canadian money.

The other thing is a note with a ten-digit number written on it. I put it all into a different pocket inside my jacket that zips up. Great. The next step is to see about getting a cell phone. I don’t think I can buy one in New York, or use it in New England, but I’ll need to contact this number once I get into Canada and I’m on the network there.

I head back to my seat. The sun is dipping lower in the sky, but the days are long this time of year.

Ren is swiping on their watch and looks up. “There you are, Ami.”

“I’m back,” I agree. “Hey, Ren,” I whisper. “I need to buy a cell phone.”

Ren nods. “Yeah, if you’re going north, definitely.”

“Uh…how do I do that?” I ask.

Ren’s eyes shift around.

“Well, kiddo, you can get one in Canada. Or there’s probably someone on the train selling them, rebels in the dining car. I bought one on the train last time, black market.”

“You’ve been deported before?”

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