Page 82 of Privilege

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AMITY

When I was a little girl,my mom figured out that I was afraid of heights. She found me outside one day, sullenly refusing to climb a tree. The other kids were teasing me.

She didn’t interfere, but afterward she talked to me about it, gently easing the secret out of me. I didn’t want to tell her. I didn’t want her to see me as weak or afraid.

I was right to be wary. That weekend and for years after she took me to the climbing gym.

“Maybe not today, maybe not next time,” she’d say, looking up the long walls to the top. “But someday you are going to climb to the top, calmly, and then you’ll know you have your fear under control.”

I could barely climb the first couple holds that first day. She didn’t coach me other than, “Climb as far as you can, and then just stay there. Get yourself under control.” She didn’t need to explain what that meant—we worked on it all the time at school.

“We had it all along,” she mused to me one day at a café down the street from the climbing gym. I don’t know how far I’d gotten at that point. Maybe halfway up? Definitely not to the top, that took years.

“What did we have?” I wanted to know.

“Women had the strength to change the world, to make it better.” I remember her face, her passion. “We just weren’t thinking big enough. We weren’t thinking about what it means to put the public good first.”

I’d heard the phrase public good before, and I knew it was connected to our Privileges.

“Like Rights and Privileges?” I asked.

“Exactly.” Her eyes shone. “We let them take Rights way too far. No one has the right to put other people in danger. No one has the right to hurt people, not even the government.”

“Not even the Peaceful Society?” I asked, thinking about our Officers in white.

“No. Violence is over. Everyone in MAV, including your grandmother, made sure of that. She would be so proud of you for working on this, conquering your fear.”

I thought about my grandmother, who was always busy when I was a kid, always running around to MAV events and protests. They said she was part of the team at Tel Nof that disarmed the final nuclear weapons, that supported women throughout the Middle East to help them seize power and start recycling and repurposing their weaponry.

Every time I climbed after that, I thought about my grandmother. I pictured her in a city in the desert, organizing groups of women, helping them overcome their fear. I wanted to be like her.

I eventually climbed to the top. Even after, we’d still go back now and then for me to do that. Climb to the top. Breathe. Remind myself that I am in control of my fear.

I think of my grandmother as I climb the side of the building. It’s me and this ladder, me and the height.

My heart pangs at the thought of leaving Vale behind. What if he gets hurt, fighting in there to cover for me?

I wonder what my mother really thinks about the way the PS handles men and Oath Refusers. I think I know what she would say—this is the way things are now, and it’s that way for a reason. We all get to live a safe life, and that’s the priority now because greed and violence were the priorities for so long before.

“Now we’re trying this,” I’ve heard her say, a little bit light, a little dismissive, when people question the wisdom of the PS leadership. But how long can you keep men under extra rules and restrictions, just for the sins of their fathers and grandfathers?

The thought of Vale in a PS ankle cuff, his eyes glassed over from meds, causes a deep, shaky hurt inside me. That’s what they would do to him, what my mother would do to him. For the public good.

Maybe I can be part of changing that when I get older. Maybe I can help get more representation from men into leadership and address their concerns.

This ladder is higher than the top of the climbing wall, and I’m glad my legs and shoulders are strong. I’m not tired. I hear a wave of cheering as I reach the top and pull myself over, and wonder what it means.

Up here there are only a couple of parts that stick up on the wide, flat roof. There’s a metal door in a little area thatpokes up on its own that might be the stairway I found. I slip over to give a quick tug on the door but it’s locked. So that won’t be a way out.

Checking behind it, I see what I’m looking for. There’s a small building up here, like a large shed. My eyes scan for cameras, but I don’t see anything so I step quietly to the side, where there’s a window.

My heart leaps. There’s a man in a chair and he’s facing me. However, his eyes are pointed up to something over the window, and it’s darker out here than inside the room. He doesn’t react to my quick peek. I move around to the other side so I can see what he’s watching.

There are half a dozen monitors and I see laptops in a careless pile. I have the serial number of the laptop we need memorized. Everyone wants this laptop. Is it part of an evil plan the Forge has to attack the PS? Or does it hold PS secrets that the Forge wants to air?

I’ll find out. I need to get in there and start looking at the serial numbers of those laptops. The man doesn’t turn, just keeps watching the screens. I’m relieved there’s not one showing the roof or the fire escape. They’re all videos of the party downstairs, the front entrance where the line is still filing through, and the side parking lot where the fight is going on.

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