Page 24 of Privilege

10

AMITY

Ren steps smoothlybetween the train cars. There’s a platform with rails to hold on to. The wind whips up the minute I’m in the doorway. It’s scary, but I watch what they do carefully and step, clutching the rail tightly and managing the second step into the next car, pulling the door closed behind me.

Ren grins. “Good work.”

It’s a whole new, crowded train car full of unfamiliar faces. From the look of things, it’s a mix of deportees from the Peaceful Society and a bunch of New England folks.

There are more men than women in New England. They come from Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Washington, DC, the cities that make up the Peaceful Society. Somehow even with all those men they manage to keep the peace, but we hear stories. It’s different up here.

Ren stands tall as they move through the crowd. Their hoodie has pockets and a zipper and they tug the zipper all the way to their neck and run a hand through their hair.I’m reminded of Zeph and recognize the fidgeting as nerves. I appreciate that Ren is willing to come and help me.

I prepare myself mentally that getting a phone might not work out right now. The people we talk to could be rude, or mean, or scary. I can try again in Canada, I plan as a backup.

We do the same thing again, moving to the next car. It feels easier this time and Ren slides into a seat in the back, speaking in a low voice to a woman I’ve never seen before. She glances up at me and I freeze, standing in the aisle. I’m not sure what’s happening right now. There’s more whispered conference and then Ren straightens back up, leading the way. Standing before the door into the next train car, they turn.

“The dining car has a group of guys from Anchorage that sell stuff off the books. For the right price they’ll probably have a wiped phone you can use.”

I nod. Ren runs their hand through their hair again, nervous.

“Just, uh, try to answer their questions as honestly as…makes sense. But don’t say more than you need,” they suggest.

I reach into my coat. “I could give you the money and you could…”

Ren’s face twists. “Sorry, kiddo, I’ll go in with you, but I’m not interested in buying anything from these guys today.” They say it with finality. “If this is what you want, you’d better handle it.” Their eyebrows draw together and I can tell Ren’s worried.

“You don’thaveto do this, Ami,” they whisper.

But these are my instructions. This is my next task. I can do it. I start my breathing, fast in, slow out, and Ren gives me a wink.

“PS for Patiently Spineless…”

I can’t hold back a chuckle, and as the tension breaks a little, Ren pushes the door open and steps through.

The next train car is all men. My eyes sweep the room slowly, trying to make it look casual. I don’t see a single woman here.

The men are sitting together all around, eating and drinking and talking loudly. There’s a group playing cards in a booth.

In the back, a cluster of men have papers and a map scattered across their table. It’s loud. There’s a counter with a stooped man behind it, standing in front of bottles and packages lined up on shelving.

Ren lets their body slouch a little, looking more relaxed, and I immediately copy them. A few heads turn but we’re mostly ignored. The eyes lingering on me make me shudder. Ren leads me through the car to the counter where the stooped man dries his hands on a towel, turning to us.

“Get you all something?” he says without expression.

Ren tilts their head to me, indicating I should answer. I make eye contact carefully.

“I’d like to buy a cell phone,” I tell him. He doesn’t react. Then his eyes flick to something behind me, and he shrugs.

“I hear they have them in Canada.” He checks his watch. “We’ll be there soon.”

He turns away but I stay rooted. Ren told me about thedifference between the kinds of cell phones. Whatever I buy in Canada will be overseen by the CGC, the Canadian Government Corporation, and what I need is a wiped phone that can use the infrastructure but not be tracked.

“I’m looking for a wiped phone,” I say to his back.

The man still doesn’t reply. You’d think we were back in the Peaceful Society with all this deliberate non-reactivity. He turns to the table behind me, the one with the papers and maps.

Someone approaches and the man behind the counter turns away again. This time, with something like a flinch. I turn and start.

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