Page 1 of Ezra
PROLOGUE
JULY 2, 2069
Katrina Carson
First Street and Astor Avenue are shut down and barred off with glowing orange barriers, each one projecting large blue holographic messages above them that readRoute Shut Downand point to various detours. Traffic cops clad in bright vests direct vehicles to other roads. The sidewalks stream with onlookers, protestors, and journalists, their voices a steady thrum in the open evening air.
I stand at the forefront of an ocean of people as they flood the streets of New Carnegie, bodies packed together. There are camera crews for media coverage. Many carry holo-boards programmed with custom messages supporting our cause—Humanity First, Shut Droids Down!andI Lost My Job Because of BioNexandOwn Droids, Cause Misery.
There are a myriad of others. The pain, anger, and determination of everyone surrounding us is palpable. I’m not the only one who senses it. Down the road, the New Carnegie Police Department have gathered in their riot gear, blue holo-shields activated and humming.
There’ll be no need for them, if my father has any say in the matter.
Next to me is Robert Carson, the leader of Humanity First. My dad. He isn’t dressed in a suit and tie but a T-shirt and jeans, looking more like a working man than I think I’ve ever seen him look. Everything he does is for a reason, and looking like an average joe suits his purpose. He means to continue identifying with the everyday worker, to be unassuming. Just someone trying to do the right thing.
The people who follow him know better, though. His personality has created a movement that spans the entire country. It’s his outspoken nature, his inability to back down, that’s inspired protests in different big cities in America, not only New Carnegie.
Honestly, I couldn’t be prouder of him than I am right now. There aren’t many people in the world willing to personally stare down big business and call for change. And that’s what he’s doing, what I’ve been trying to help him achieve—changing the world before there’s no going back.
Pastor Nelson, the outspoken personality in charge of Carnegie First Baptist, approaches us. They’ve been picketing the Paradise Lounge, an erotic android business, for weeks now. They were all too happy to join us here.
I’m not thrilled about his presence. Something about the guy seems off, practically sleazy. I keep my mouth shut as Nelson shakes hands with Dad. The pastor’s hair has gone completely white, even though he doesn’t look quite old enough yet to have lost his color that way. It makes him appear ghostlike.
“You’re doing the Lord’s work, Bobby,” Nelson declares with certainty. “I know it, and the rest of the world knows it too. They just won’t admit it. We’ll make them see it today.”
“Let’s hope. Thanks for coming,” Dad replies politely, letting him go and placing his hand gently on my shoulder, as though he means to guide me into rejoining my mother nearby.
“Why are you thanking him?” I whisper softly. “I thought you didn’t like Nelson.”
“I don’t,” Dad replies under his breath. “He gives me the creeps. But we can hardly exclude him and his church in a gathering of this magnitude. This’ll be the largest march we’ve ever orchestrated.” He squeezes me to him before letting me go. “It means everything to me that you came all this way. I know the timing can’t be great with your classes. Graduate school isn’t very forgiving.”
“My professors have always stated they support the right to demonstrate,” I reply ruefully. “Besides, you’ve always been there for me. It’s time I returned the favor.”
“Well, our collegiate system isn’t known for independent thinking.” My father laughs softly, pride in his eyes when he looks at me. He’s always been in my corner, pushing me to be the best at everything I do—schools, sports, debate teams, right up to being the best candidate for a workplace. “I hope young people learn from your example.”
“We’ll find out.”Myexample? His words skyrocket my self-esteem. “The police aren’t playing around. Did you see their new riot gear? It’s like it turns them into robots themselves with all that steel armor.”
“Let’s hope they don’t need it today.”
“Wonder if they brought Dr. Lewis’s android—the one you originally designed?” I muse. “Would’ve thought the force would be full of that model by now, but I’ve only seen them employ one.”
My father’s chuckle is bereft of real humor. “Don’t remind me. The irony, that something I invented for people’s freedom and safety would be remade and morphed into a weaponinstead. The commissioner is sympathetic to our cause, so I doubt he’s interested in creating any more police robots than the one he’s already got.” He rubs his chin as he surveys the turnout. “What ifyouaddressed the crowd today?”
“Me?” I’m aghast. “No way. You’re the orator.”
“That’s not true. You ran circles around your opposition on the debate team.”
“That was high school,” I protest. “It’s been almost seven years. Besides, they came here to see you, not me. All the interviews, the podcasts, the talk shows...”
“Perhaps it’s time for a new perspective,” Dad replies. “I won’t make you. But I believe in you, Kat. If I’m not getting through to them, maybe you will.”
We regroup with my mother, the more cautious of my parents. She’s uneasy, based on how she shifts her weight from foot to foot. She wears jeans, a tank top, and the Humanity First logo—three glowing human figures, like something out of a cave painting, with their spears raised in the air—proudly displayed on the front.
It’s not the police who make her nervous. Catherine Carson, my mother, has only come forward in the past few months to stand beside my father in his fight for worker’s rights. She was the one who reached out to the police department and worked with the city to get permission to gather.
“All these folks trying to get to this opera on time are going to be in for a bit of a surprise,” she remarks, waving her hand in the direction of the theater, which is about a mile down the road. “I’m surprised they didn’t cancel it.”
“Let’s hope their facilities can keep out the noise we’ll be making.” Dad presses his lips to my mother’s temple before turning to me. “What do you think, Kat? Are you up for it?”
