Page 22 of Codi
“Someday you’re going to be the slave, and he’s going to be the master. Is that what you want?”
“My father got laid off from his job because of worthless people like you, bitch!”
Codi tenses. His back is stiff, hands clenched into fists, jaw set with his eyes narrowed. The very thing I hoped to avoid is only moments from happening. Someone carries a bat. A young man hands his belongings to a friend as though he means to brawl.
Lucas whimpers and cries, clinging to me tightly.
When someone reaches out toward me, Codi steps between us, voice booming. “Don’t talk to her that way.” His tone is laced with a warning. “Back away.”
His response takes them all off guard, and several of them do step away. They stare at him in astonishment, wide-eyed and unsure what to do. Androids are supposed to be subservient, calm, and demure.
Everything Codi isn’t at the moment.
Then they remember their anger, and it returns to them with a vengeance. “The fuck did he just say?” a girl demands.
The crowd looks like it’s about ready to come down upon us when we hear shouts of a different sort. “Enough! Enough! Back up! Back away now!”
I turn to see where the noise is coming from, and I’m surprised to see two Roman Catholic priests, clothed in their black garments and white collars, hurrying toward us, long cassock overcoats swishing around their legs as they walk. One is an older fellow, probably pushing sixty, while the other is young and easily my age.
“Can’t you see this woman is carrying a child?” the elder priest demands. “You should be ashamed. Go back to the others, before we call the police!”
“You’re better than this, Tony. I better see you in confession next week.” The younger priest is just as incensed, if not more, the way his hand cuts through the air while thoroughly scolding another member of the group who approached us. The man on the receiving end of his reprimand looks resentful and embarrassed. “Violence isn’t the answer. It never is!”
“Go! Go on!”
The threat of wrath from something bigger than themselves—whether that be a higher power or the police—seems to do the trick. The wind is blown from the protestors’ sails. They retreat slowly, one by one, back to the main march, glowering and casting looks like daggers at both me and Codi.
When the elder priest is satisfied that they’re truly leaving, he turns to me. “This part of the city isn’t safe for you,” he tells me, as though he’s miffed at me now. “Don’t you follow the news?”
“No,” I reply, defensive. “I avoid the news. It’s stressful as all hell. Why would I watch it?” Shit, I said “hell” in front the priest. That’s definitely not going to earn me any points with the Big Guy. If there is one, that is.
“Well, you might want to start.” I guess it’s my turn for the scolding as the priest stares me down. “You can’t hide your head in the sand forever, and your ignorance nearly cost you.” He walks back across a long, broad yard of winter grass toward the cathedral, holding his cassock a bit to help him move.
The younger priest smiles sympathetically at me in contrast. “We just finished Latin Mass, so he’s a bit on edge.” He cants his head. “Where’s your car?”
“A mile in the direction they’re marching,” I admit sheepishly.
“Might not be a bad idea to wait them out.” He eyes me curiously. “What’s your name?”
“Denise. This is my son Lucas. And this is Codi.”
The young priest studies Codi for a moment, and Codi gazes right back at him, unfazed. “I’m Father Patrick,” he says. “Come on. You can sit in the sanctuary until they’ve passed. Let’s just hope they don’t trash your car.”
Having no other choice, Codi and I exchange glances before following Father Patrick back to the cathedral.
NEW CARNEGIE TIMES
MARCH 30, 2069
PRO-STRIKE PROTESTS ACROSS THE CITY BECOME INCREASINGLY VIOLENT
A clash of tempers and ideologies are coming to a head this evening as thousands of Humanity First protesters take to the streets in support of the ongoing worker strikes throughout downtown New Carnegie. Sanctioned by founder Robert Carson, the group is currently marching toward the city capitol building, causing major traffic delays and bringing downtown commerce to a screeching halt.
Those businesses still open and serving the public boarded up their windows and shut their doors early tonight, taking every precaution when news of the protest began circulating across social media platforms earlier this week.
“It’s a circus,” says Jake Matthews, 42, who owns the famed Grizzly Tap House on First Avenue. “You’ve got people going on strike for a good cause, standing up for themselves, their jobs, and then Humanity First hijacks their movement and makes it about something else.”
Shawna Darrel, 23, works at Iris Prom & Wedding Boutique. “My hours are already cut in half because of everything going on, and now I’m being told I have to go home early because of the protests, so I’m losing even more money. I got kids. I can’t afford an android to watch them for me. What about people like me? Humanity First is hurting my livelihood. They don’t care about me. They just want to stick it to BioNex.”
