3. Seed of Doubt
815 Words
3 Seed of Doubt
Teacher’s limp thumped up behind Ophelia. The children who were gathered at Ophelia’s feet tensed up and lowered their gazes. She pretended not to notice.
“And four times six is?” Ophelia pointed to Juliette.
Juliette squirmed and moved her mouth. She dared not lift her eyes and look at Ophelia, lest the sight of Teacher looming behind make her freeze. With a big breath in, she finally committed.
“Twenty-four?”
“Very good,” Teacher said, clapping, and Juliette nearly fell over with relief. “Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to borrow your instructor for a little bit.”
All the children turned to Ophelia, waiting for orders.
“Go play in the playground.”
They rose with a cheer, stifled it suddenly, then bowed to Teacher before running off to the “playground.”
The playground was a section of the dank parking lot with a few toys scattered. The children split into groups and took turns playing. No one screamed or fought or stepped out of line. No one wanted to bring down the consequences for unruly behavior.
Ophelia matched her pace to Teacher’s as he strolled to the food prep area of the lot.
“I’ve been working on a plan for a long time now,” he said, “but it’s time to bring you up to speed.”
Ophelia caught her breath. He was trusting her before others? What an honor.
“I’ve predicted that as long as IAS thrives, my plans to end slavery will fail.”
Ophelia didn’t answer, but her body reacted nonetheless. The jerk in her stomach, the grimace, the trip in her step. Soldiers from IAS had killed Mac on her last mission. They’d killed several of her siblings on other missions. They blocked Teacher’s master plan.
But one of them, named TrysKa, had spared Ophelia. And asked her name. And been so, so very kind.
Would someone like TrysKa really keep people in slavery? Maybe she supported slavery and didn’t know it? Either way, slavery had to end, and Teacher saw the path to do it.
“So as much as I don’t want to,” he said, “we must remove IAS from the future.”
We’re too weak to attack them.
But Ophelia wasn’t stupid enough to say that out loud.
“What do you have in mind?” she asked.
“A sneak attack, with drones.” He stopped and studied her. “Which is why I tell you now.”
“You need me to train the teens to fight with drones?”
“More than that,” he said.
“The children, too?”
Ophelia looked over her shoulder at the kids playing the age-old game of four square with a ball that had lost its bounce.
“More than that,” he said again.
Ophelia turned back to Teacher, lost for words. “Then?”
“I’ve calculated that I need at least two hundred and fifty drones. So I’ve arranged for three hundred to guarantee success.”
“Three hundred?”
No way each drone could be controlled individually. But…
“I could program the drones so that one was controlled by us and then others mimicked that drone’s movement.” She stared off, her mind drifting to equations and code.
“And that’s why I needed to talk to you.” Teacher smiled with his scarred lips. “Assign someone else to teach the children multiplication, and get on this today.”
“Of course,” Ophelia said.
She corralled the children back to the “school room” section of the parking lot and handed the drills over to Alphonso. The chant of multiplication tables followed Ophelia as she opened the storage closet and sat down with one of the only digiscrolls.
Ophelia was one of the few students given the privilege of accessing the outside world. She monitored Douglas Winward, CEO of The Caravan, on her digiscroll. Before Teacher sent her siblings out on his missions, she surveyed the area through the public database’s video feed. She’d even been allowed to take courses in programming and coding, probably just for this purpose. Teacher always had a plan.
“Juliette!” Teacher called, and Ophelia’s blood turned to ice.
Was he taking Juliette away? Ophelia raised her head and watched, unable to move, as Juliette walked, weeping, to Teacher. He scooped her up in his arms, and Ophelia could hear his apologies echo across the empty floor.
“I’m so sorry. I wish I could keep you, but money is so tight,” he whispered.
“I’m sorry for failing you.” Juliette hiccoughed through her tears so the word “sorry” came out sowwy and “failing” faiwing.
No. No, no, no, no, no.
He couldn’t take Juliette away. Yes, she struggled with her physical training, but Ophelia could teach her. Juliette just needed more time.
But Teacher kept limping to the stairs, moving steadily away from Ophelia, taking Juliette away forever. And Ophelia couldn’t move to stop him. Her body simply didn’t work. She wanted to run, to scream, to yank Juliette from him.
But she didn’t move. She didn’t breathe. And Juliette was gone.
Money is so tight.
That’s what Teacher had said to Juliette. Ophelia looked back at the digiscroll. She opened a program that would help her write code for three hundred drones. Teacher had purchased three hundred drones.
Money is so tight.
Teacher had lied.
- Writer
