II: CIVICS LESSON
Min breathes deep, savoring the crispness of the air. It's all simulated, of course; everything here is, from the desks to the trees to the pale blue sky above. Even the Academy's Headmistress is little more than Board-approved educational software. But the sunshine beating down on Min's shoulders feels real enough, all the same.
"The Revel. A sprawling, city-wide festival, celebrated by wealthy executives, gutter-dwelling criminals, and everyone in between. A Blackout Night tradition that's as cherished as it is mandatory." The Headmistress gestures with her left hand, and images fill the holoboard behind her.
Min straightens her back, resisting the urge to slump down in her seat. She's been in class for hours now, but her encounter in the Dead Empty has left her with a lingering sense of unease. Call on someone else, she thinks to herself. Please.
The Headmistress locks eyes with a boy to Min's right. "Tell us, Mr. Soto. What purpose does the Revel serve?"
Orren Soto rises to address the class. Min permits herself a sigh of relief, then nods up at Orren encouragingly. Among her six classmates, he's always been her favorite. "The Revel serves two purposes. It eases the Gleam's simmering class tensions—"
The Headmistress raises a hand to interrupt. "The proper name, Mr. Soto. Whose class tensions does it ease?"
"Our city's. Official designation: Metropol 117-B. Colloquially known as Gleam City, or the Gleam."
"Because?"
"Because no other sector shines brighter, and our lights will never die."
She nods, apparently satisfied. "And the Revel's other purpose? You said there were two."
"Yes, ma'am. Its second purpose is to inspire civic loyalty."
"Expand on that. How does the Revel inspire loyalty?"
"By celebrating our city's strength. Across most of the Arc, Blackouts are catastrophic. At best, they kill hundreds. At worst, they can cripple entire sectors—even crash them, from time to time." As Orren speaks, the rest of the class sits at rapt attention. It's his graftware, Min knows; she can see the cartilaginous nodules in his throat moving, shifting to modulate his delivery. Autocorrecting to project confidence and charm. "But the Gleam is different. By living here, we're different. The Revel reminds us of that, in a way that's impossible to ignore."
The Headmistress nods. "Very good. You may be seated, Mr. Soto." Her outline shimmers as she casts her gaze around the room, scanning her students' faces.
Her eyes lock with Min's.
"Ms. Cresta." The simulated instructor's crisp voice cuts through the silence like a knife. "You've been uncharacteristically quiet this morning."
"Yes, Headmistress. I'm sorry," Min intones, struggling to keep the frustration out of her voice. She's still feeling rattled, and Orren is a tough act to follow. She lowers her gaze in a manner that she hopes comes across as demure. "I'm a little… out of sorts… today."
"And yet, our expectations of you remain unchanged. A challenge that every aspiring leader must face." The Headmistress gestures at the holodisplay behind her. "Please take over for Mr. Soto and tell us how the Revel eases class tensions. Now, if you don't mind."
Cursing inwardly, Min stands, then clasps her hands behind her back. "Like Orren said, we're not afraid of the Blackouts here. Through the Revel, we celebrate them, treat them as a kind of spectacle. All of us, together—the overclass and the underclass alike."
"I see. And what kind of spectacle are they?"
Min knows what sort of answer she's expected to give: technically accurate, but polished, with all the sharp edges filed away. But something nags at her. Hiding from the truth won't help you. She can still hear it, that impossible voice from the Dead Empty, gently admonishing her. Open your eyes and see.
"We treat them as a blood sport, ma'am." She blurts out the words before she can stop herself. "Because it isn't just that we're safe. It's that everybody outside of the Gleam isn't."
"Strong words, Ms. Cresta." The Headmistress's voice remains neutral. "You make our tradition sound barbaric."
A greasy feeling of unease wells up in Min's stomach. There's a thin line between biting critique and punishable disloyalty, even for a daughter of wealthy executives. But she's committed now. It'll be worse if she fails to explain herself.
"It is barbaric, ma'am. By design. The Revel demands that we all come together to drink, and to cheer, and to watch the Blackout wash over our defenseless neighbors. And we bet on the outcomes: which sectors will crash, who will live, who will die." She chews on her lower lip, then pushes forward. "And that's the source of our unity. The Gleam's haves and have-nots, united at the expense of the have-nothings outside."
There's a long pause. Min's classmates shift uneasily in their seats. Finally, the Headmistress responds.
"An… interesting observation, Ms. Cresta. And a dangerous one." She gestures with her left hand, and the holodisplay behind her disappears. "In observance of this evening's Revel, you are all dismissed. Tomorrow morning, we will discuss best practices for addressing difficult topics: what to declare, what to merely imply…" She shoots Min a significant glance. "…and what is best left unsaid."
One by one, Min's classmates disconnect from the Academy. Their bodies blur, then vanish, leaving only their empty desks behind. Orren stares at her, a slight frown on his face. She fiddles with her pencils until he finally disconnects, and then she severs her own network connection.
The Academy begins to shimmer. Min closes her eyes and slowly exhales as the world around her disappears.
