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might not be able to advance in the Special Forces. And
I couldn’t have that weighing on my conscience.
    I rolled my eyes at Zenn,
something he didn’t see because of my oversize straw hat—another
rule, one I actually followed. The scanner beeped, and a horrible
squeal erupted from the hovercopter.
    “ What have you done now?” Zenn’s
voice carried a hint of laughter amidst the
exasperation.
    “ Nothing,” I answered. “I’ve done
nothing this time.” I’d been good for two months.
    “ This time?” he asked.
    “ Violet Schoenfeld, stay where you
are!” the mechanical voice boomed. “The Green demands a
hearing.”
    “ Vi! The Green? Seriously, what
have you done?”
    “ Can I have my present
now?”
    * * *
    Everyone knows the Green is just a
fancy name for the Thinkers. They’re the ones who broadcast the
transmissions and categorize the people. The ones who do the
thinking so regular people won’t have to.
    Zenn would join Them when he
finished training with the Special Forces. He’d wanted to be a
Greenie for as long as I’d known him, but that didn’t stop our
friendship. This arrest might—SF agents didn’t hang out with
criminals.
    Inside the hovercopter, large
panels with multicolored buttons and complicated instruments
covered the dashboard. Glass encased the entire bulb of the body,
allowing the pilot to spot rule-breakers from any angle. A window
in the floor beneath the single—and occupied—metal chair provided a
good view of the ground below. Since I had nowhere to sit, I stood
next to the tiny doorway.
    I felt trapped in a bubble, with
the charcoal sky pressing down around me. My throat tightened with
each passing second.
    After cuffing me, the pilot
scowled. “This return trip will take twice as long. We usually send
transports for arrests.”
    I made a face at the back of his
head. Like I didn’t know that. Almost as bad as Lock Up, transports
are twice as uncomfortable as the cramped hovercopter. And the
filth and stink? Nasty.
    With my extra weight on board, the
pilot maneuvered the craft awkwardly and zoomed back toward the
towers on the south end of the Goodgrounds. “I have a break in
twenty minutes. I don’t have time for this.”
    Then let me out. I watched Zenn fade to a distant dot, hoping it
wouldn’t be the last time I saw him.
    The hovercopter slowed and the
pilot turned to glare at me. “Don’t try your tricks on me,
girlie.”
    I had no idea what he meant. I
gripped the handle above the doorway as he swung the hovercopter to
the left. Toward the towers.
    The Southern Rim is only
accessible to Goodies with special clearance or important
business. I’d never been there, not that I hadn’t tried. No one I
knew had ever been—water folk didn’t make trouble.
    True fear flowed in my veins as we
approached. Maybe sneaking to see Zenn had been a bad idea. The
thought felt strange, almost like it didn’t belong to me. It grew,
pressing me down with guilt. You shouldn’t
have risked your freedom to see Zenn.
    The voice in my head definitely
wasn’t my own. Damn Thinkers. I shook the brainwashing message
away. Zenn had risked his freedom for me last summer.
    Below me, fields wove together in
little squares, some brown, some green,
some gold. Crops grown in the Centrals provided food for those in
the Southern Rim and the rest of the Goodgrounds.
    The fields gave way to structures
standing two or three stories high. Constructed like the other
buildings in the Goodgrounds—gray or brown bricks, flashing tech
lights, and red iris readers in every doorway.
    Windows were blinded off from the
outside world. We certainly don’t want any sunlight getting in. No,
that would be bad. According to the Thinkers anyway. Sunlight
damages skin, no matter what color. Our clothes cover us from
wrist to chin, ankle to hip, and everywhere in between. Suits for
the business class. Jeans and oatmeal-colored shirts for everyone
else. Wide-brimmed hats must be worn at all