One

1

 

Warm, sticky bodies were pressing one against the other. Arms and shoulders crashed against each other repeatedly. Shirts were wet with sweat and mouths were dry with an unattended thirst. Breaths were short, rapid and intense, the air stifling and not at all pleasant. There was hardly any room to move, and even if there had been there was nowhere to go. A thick stench of a hundred different odors combined lay over the entire area. Strangers who weren't even aware of one another's existence were unified in a frenzied group. You couldn't tell where you were in relation to the others, how many were there with you or who they were. It was hard to explain why everybody found it desirable to be there, but at the same time there was no place they'd rather be instead.

Perhaps it was the heated, contagious excitement that had driven them there. Or the curiosity, or simply the will to be part of something great. Wherever it originated, the drive massing the people together and propelling them in the same direction was so strong that if it caught you, you couldn't resist it. There was such tangible vigor enveloping the whole crowd that even if you didn't know why you were there, you were bound to start yelling what they yelled and pumping your fists in the same way as they were.

And you would love it. You would love the adrenaline rushing to every corner of your body, and the alertness of your every sense trying to pick up every detail in your surroundings. You would love that belligerence, that sense of fighting for something, even if you were the most peaceful person in the world. You would love that incredible sense of power engendered by the mass of strangers around you fighting with you against a common enemy. You would even love the heat, the sweat, the stench, the crowdedness, the need to push and shove to keep your place and the need to strain yourself for a decent breath of air. You would love everyone around you and they would love you, although they wouldn't know who you were. For a short while, you would share the strongest bond with people whom you would soon part with and never meet again.

There were many thousands of people thus gathered in this manic mass at the Eastern part of the city's main square, and they were all embroiled in this wonderful burst of zeal. All except for the kid, who wasn't quite part of it. Leonardo was there for one reason only: to hear the young lady on stage. He was fascinated by her, and sitting on his older brother's shoulders, he did nothing but stare at her through a small space between the necks of two large men standing in front of him.

"Justice", her strong, feminine voice blared through the microphone. She always ended these demonstrations talking about justice. Since everyone likes to associate themselves with such a noble notion as justice, this was usually the peak of every demonstration she led. It was Leonardo's favorite part, though he never quite understood what she meant by it.

"She is sneaky and evasive, but here we have tracked her down." Here the crowd erupted in a boisterous wave of support, as though all the people had ever wanted to do was to track down justice. To Leonardo none of it mattered, none of it ever took place except for the girl's words and the poised intensity of her every move.

"Her captors are still holding her hostage, but we will tolerate it no longer. Only once we have caught her with our own two hands will we be deserving of her. And when that moment comes, the politicians and the Industry will be accountable before her!"

Now the roar emitted by the crowd rose to new heights, its magnitude surprising even the people themselves. And with the magnificent roar came a general frenzy of pure enthusiasm. Leonardo's brother almost toppled sideways, and their mother shrieked in panic. A fat hand accidentally smacked Leonardo's head from behind, and to his right a few youngsters began to jump up and down with exhilaration. Some unfathomable chant rose from the heart of the crowd, denouncing the captors of justice whose identity everyone seemed to know. Everybody was gripped with excitement- whether this was due to the prospect of bringing out justice, 'flaying' the politicians and the Industry (as someone was heard bellowing), or simply of achieving victory it didn't matter, since it all came together in a single unified burst of emotion.

But Leonardo didn't realize any of this. He didn't realize the deafening outcry, the fat man from behind, the people jumping beside him or his mother clutching his left hand so hard it stopped the blood flow. The only thing his faculties registered was the young lady, who seemed just as impassive as he was to the reactions of the crowd. Jessica (everybody- everybody- knew her name) was a beautiful woman, which not even her simple attire and unpretentious appearance on stage could hide. She spoke with directness and honesty and at the same time with a sweeping persuasiveness that was only possible for someone who had deep, undivided faith in her words. She was so poised on stage that sometimes the audience was afraid to make a noise while she was speaking, but once the first and second brave calls came through, the dam collapsed and the flow couldn't be stopped. It appeared as though the only person in the city who didn't admire and lionize her as a great leader or a star (except for the frustrated politicians and senior members of the Industry), was she.

But Leonardo didn't care about this either. All that was there to him were her big blue eyes scanning the crowd- why she did this he didn't know, but it happened every time and he always hoped she was looking for him. His own little eyes were fixed on hers, waiting for that moment when their eyes met, and there it was… her eyes wandered to the crowd's right, drawing closer and closer to the stage, closer to where he was… just a bit to the left and she would find him… a little more…

No, she'd missed him. Her eyes had jumped over to another part of the audience just before they found him. "Almost", he muttered, though of course nobody understood him. But no matter, he was like a statue, waiting without the will or the ability to move until she would find him. In the meantime her words echoed in his mind, softer but infinitely more powerful than all the voices of all the people in the audience combined.

'Justice… sneaky… we will be deserving of her' rang her smooth, unbreakable voice, as strong and effective in his mind as it had been coming out of the microphone minutes earlier. Her mom called his name once, twice; his brother followed from underneath him, but Leonardo didn't answer.

There it was again, her piercing gaze scouring the crowd, this time from the front back, drawing closer, closer… There it was! She saw him, and if only for a second they exchanged such a meaningful message that it eclipsed the entire demonstration. In this exchange, he expressed his boundless appreciation for her (he was certain she could detect this in his eyes even in the sea of other eyes and emotions), and she her gratitude for his loyalty. He understood that after this fateful moment her eyes had to move along, but his gaze remained fixed on her until his mom jerked his hand so hard that it snapped him out of his fixation and back to his place in the crowd.

"Let's go home boys", his mother said, and she raised him from the armpits off his brother's shoulders, carefully placing him on the ground and kissing him on the forehead. "Did you guys have fun?"

But Leonardo's attention was back on stage, paying the respect due to the men and women standing behind Jessica wearing the black masks. They were all members of The Existents, and they were always standing at the back of the stage when she spoke. Standing like statues, constantly there as part of the landscape but never attracting very much attention. Leonardo wondered if one day he could be there with them, just standing there wearing his own black mask. He squirmed and wriggled his way to the right and to the left, stepping on some woman's foot and bumping into an old man's chest, finally finding a line of vision to all of them. He didn't understand why it had to be so crowded, why the people liked to be so loud, why they had to clamor strange slogans that probably didn't mean anything, and why it was so hot. He didn't like that about these events, but it was still all worth it.

"I think I broke my shoulder, but other than that yes, it was great", his brother, Fred, said, and they made their way back home together under the setting sun, still panting slightly from the heat and excitement of the demonstration.

 

Just outside the elevator on their way back to their 4th floor apartment they ran into Father Lockworth. As was always the case when their mother, Hailey, bumped into a neighbor, an engaging conversation was struck up. Leonardo was still playing back in his head some of the things Jessica had said, so he didn't pay attention to the conversation until Father Lockworth called his name:

"Hello there, Leo. How are you today?" The Father said slowly in his low, deep voice. Leonardo noticed that he was wearing the black outfit that he always had on. He looked up at the tall man, who was much taller even than Hailey, and, frowning, said blankly:

"Please don't call me Leo, sir. My name is Leonardo." He didn't understand why people called him that. He didn't like it when they changed his name like that, especially when it was somebody whom he wasn't very fond of. And Father Lockworth wasn't someone he was very fond of.

Before Father Lockworth could respond, Hailey emitted an awkward laugh and reminded him that Leonardo didn't like being called Leo (it wasn't the first time she'd told him this), and explained that many people made the confusion. She had such a heartfelt laugh and made people so comfortable in her presence that the awkwardness of the situation was dismantled at once.

"Of course, of course", Father Lockworth muttered, and he nodded slowly. He had a slow way about him: he moved slowly, he spoke slowly, he delivered his sermons at church slowly. That, together with his formality, his low voice, and his graying short hair and very solemn face gave him an altogether distinguished air that commanded even more respect from the people. Even Leonardo respected him. He didn't like him, but since his mother respected him, he did as well.

"We just came back from the demonstration of The Existents", Hailey said with unmistakable excitement. "Have you ever been to one of their events, Father? I think it's absolutely wonderful, what they're doing. What do you think, Father?"

Hailey always spoke differently in Father Lockworth's presence than the way she spoke with other neighbors or acquaintances. It was as though she were requesting his permission or his endorsement rather than sharing information or simply chatting with a friend.

"Yes, I agree. 'Let the man with two tunics share with him who has none, and let him who has food do likewise.' Praise the Lord."

A chuckle suddenly escaped Leonardo's mouth. Why did Father Lockworth always say that- Praise the Lord? Did it please God to hear it every time? He didn't realize Fred's puzzled stare at him, and his thoughts drifted back to the stage, back to Jessica and all her great words.

Fairness, equality, protecting our rights. And most of all- justice.

"I haven't seen your family at church for a while", Father Lockworth said gravely several minutes later when it was time to part ways, producing a meek and entirely not reassuring smile.

"Oh yes, Father… Steve has been very busy lately and… we haven't had the chance. But we will be going soon. Very soon", Hailey said apologetically, petting the boys on the head as though to show that they were good boys although they didn't go to church as often as they should.

"Hello", Leonardo called as they entered the apartment, as he always did even when he knew there was nobody there to greet. And as always when there was nobody to greet, he received no reply.

A sweeping sound came from one of the apartment's two bathrooms, then some clanking sounds and a flush of the toilet. The bathroom was being cleaned. There was the sound of footsteps- not the swish or thud of shoes against the floor, but a soft tap of bare feet against the tiles- and then more sweeping and flushing from the second bathroom.

"That's enough. Go somewhere else", Fred's voice emerged from his bedroom, to which he'd retired immediately upon entering the apartment. He valued his privacy, and was willing to fight for it if anyone dared challenge it. There was no need to fight in this case, however, as the trespasser immediately retreated. There were some more thumps and thuds of things being put back in their places, and then the increasing sound of uneven footsteps as the servant reached the living room for further instructions.

462 was the name of the family's servant. Like all servants, it was rather small in size (not much larger than the lean Hailey), and was extremely ugly. Its entire body was covered in dark brown hair, it moved awkwardly and without the least bit of grace, and it had a terrible limp in its left leg (these were all common attributes of all servants). Its small eyes were almost the same color as the hair on its face, so that they were almost impossible to make out from a distance. Aside from 462's repulsive appearance, one also had to be wary of remaining at its close presence for a prolonged period of time, since the hard skin under its hair emitted an unbearable stench. It was said that if you somehow got under the hair and touched the skin, you couldn't get the stench off your body for two weeks, and even then only by bathing in lemon juice three times a day.

Claims had been made that many of these defects were intentionally induced by their producers in order to cause servants to be especially unpleasing, but with all the rumors and fabrications that one heard on the grapevine regarding servants, it was impossible to tell truth from fantasy. Moreover, why would the Industry intentionally reduce the quality of its own product?

Every household in the city was entitled to the full services of one servant free of charge as part of the government's social welfare program. Except for many government officials and anyone with sufficient political clout or connections with the Industry- they always had at least two servants. It was all subsidized by the government, to the smug satisfaction of the Industry. This glaring corruption was one of the things The Existents were fighting against- this, the exorbitant tax benefits conferred to the Industry, the fact that the crippled and the elderly didn't receive free night servant services (all servants left at nightfall), and the holding and transporting conditions of servants to and from the people's households. These four major demands were known as the Four Pillars on which the fight was based. An example of the effect one of these injustices had on the people was the lacking safety conditions during transport that led to an extremely high expiration rate among servants, which resulted in a high turnover frequency and required families to get used to a new servant every three to four months on average. Needless to say, this was a considerable inconvenience for most families, whose household relied on the industrious services of their servant. This last point was part of a larger demand for more transparency in the regulations that governed the Industry's operation and in Protocols that summarized the content of different policymaking Committees in the Industry.

Indeed, The Existents despised politicians and the Industry, and now that people's eyes were beginning to open to these transgressions, despise was fermenting in them as well. That's all they were asking for: fairness, equality, rights, justice. And they weren't going to stop until they had it!

462 was a bit of an anomaly among servants (any variation among them was quite rare, since the production line was strict, meticulous and very homogenous), and he'd been with the family for over a year. It was more intelligent than most servants, and it understood almost everything anyone in the family said to it, except for Fred who sometimes enjoyed flustering it with some complex or specialized word that it couldn't comprehend. If you kept your language simple and your instructions clear, it would perform just what you asked of it, and indeed the family was very satisfied with its performance. At present it stood at the small open space in front of the kitchen, grunting softly as it always did to inform the family that it was awaiting further instructions. Its small brown eyes alternated between Hailey, who was in the kitchen preparing dinner with her back to it, and Leonardo, who was sitting in the small niche in the wall whose one half bordered the kitchen and the other bordered the open space 462 was standing in. There, under the dim lights that came from the kitchen and from above the entrance door (which was right in front of the niche, no more than five meters away) and penetrated the niche, he was moving the white pieces of a glass chessboard around the board.

It groaned three- four- five times, frozen in place, when Hailey finally turned and noticed it. She paused, pondering whether there was any more work to be done, then (knowing instinctively that Leonardo was there) called:

"Leonardo, do you want 462 to play with you? Leonardo!"

But it was of no use- her son was fixated on the board in front of him, though he was merely moving the pieces around randomly. Then, suddenly, he turned his body to the left in the direction of the kitchen and said:

"Mom, can 462 come play with me before it leaves?" He didn't understand why his mom and 462 were standing there, his mom staring at him and 462 with its ugly face turned downward, but in any case 462 was instructed to sit in the chair opposite him and play the black pieces. The game proceeded as expected, 462 coming out of the opening ahead and going on to win a significant amount of material. The white pieces were picked off one by one, the queen was being chased around the board and the king was completely exposed. The white side attempted a counterattack, but it was feeble and was easily rebuffed by the strong black pawn formation. Leonardo came to the verge of tears, and a tear began to form at the corner of his right brown eye with the realization of his impending first loss ever to 462. In fact, his eyes weren't the same opaque brown of his mom's and of most brown-eyed people, but had a kind of transparency that made you feel you could see right through them but at the same time reflected with tremendous clarity what was in front of them. When his eyes watered, they gleamed as brilliantly as a star in a dark night, and his whole face took on a melancholy beauty that could rarely be seen even in the purest expression of a child. But in the very moment the glint started to flash in Leonardo's right eye, and as the little niche seemed to be lit anew with a new mysterious source of light, the black side made a fatal blunder, suffocating its own king at the down-left corner of the board and allowing a rogue white knight to leap over its rival knight and land on the 7th row, turning the game around in a single move and delivering a whopping checkmate!

"Yes! You almost beat me! Again! But you never defend your king well enough against my lethal attacks." Leonardo exclaimed, jumping from his chair in a terrific mix of relief and exhilaration. (To Hailey, who easily overheard Leonardo's blaring cries of triumph, this was a very insignificant occurrence, since victory over a servant was hardly a worthy cause for celebration). Then, standing over his chair, he extended a hand for his rival to shake, as his father taught him was the way of any respectable chess player. If you won and didn't offer your rival your hand, then your victory was meaningless. So Leonardo did it every time, as though momentarily forgetting the identity of his opponent in the heat of the victory. And 462 reacted in the same manner it did every time: since servants weren't allowed, of course, to initiate any direct physical contact with any person, least of all with a child, it bowed its head down, congratulated its victor, and…

A repetitive beeping sound suddenly came forth, discontinuing the ceremony and cutting short Leonardo's celebration. It was the same sound that came every day from within 462's abdomen, and judging by the repeating involuntary jerking movements it prompted 462 to make, the discomfort it caused it was far greater than it caused the people around. Nobody really knew what caused it, but it was presumed that it originated in some device installed in the servants' bodies. The reason it was there was to force them to leave the houses of the people and make it to the rendezvous point on time, at which point they would be loaded to vehicles that transported them back to their holding places where they would spend the night known as Storage Camps. This happened after nightfall and from a remote, well-hidden location so as to minimize the inconvenience caused to the people (nobody wanted to run into servants in the middle of the street or be disturbed by the whole commotion at the transport area). The sound increased in volume and in pitch gradually until they were outdoors, so that within minutes it would become unbearable. This guaranteed that the servants wouldn't stay in the houses any later than permitted.

For a moment Leonardo thought he saw 462's well-camouflaged eyes staring into his own, which had never happened before. He chuckled in amusement of the thought of a servant looking into a boy's eyes- it was unheard of- and watched 462 leave the apartment in silence except for the increasing beeping sound. On its back, covering a large area where hair didn't grow stood out three large, black digits: 462.

 

"What did she mean by that- justice is sneaky and evasive?" Leonardo asked suddenly, having himself tried and failed to comprehend this complex analogy Jessica had made in her speech. His parents, half-reading half-watching Television (his mom was reading a psychology textbook edited by a colleague, his father the morning paper) in the living room, exchanged an uneven glance before his mom rose to her feet and marched over to the niche in the wall. Steve's eyes followed her with a disgruntled expression until she turned to the open space in front of the niche, when she left his line of vision. Hailey took the seat in front of her son's, studied what looked to her like a disorganized formation of the black pieces though she wasn't familiar with the rules of the game, and said softly:

"I think what she meant is that sometimes it's not easy to achieve justice, so you have to work hard and be very persistent to get it. So it feels like it's running away from you."

"But it can't really run away from you", Leonardo said, his attention given almost undividedly to the white pieces on the board, as though they were the ones he was speaking to. He'd placed the white queen at the center of the board, the white pieces surrounding her and carrying out her orders. The queen was her- Jessica- and the people had to do what she told them. He was wearing his black mask- the same kind of mask the people standing behind Jessica had on every time. It helped him concentrate.

"Of course it can't run away, honey. But when bad people do immoral things- like the politicians and the Industry who discriminate between the people- then you really have to make a great effort to go after justice."

Leonardo bobbed his head up and down repeatedly, more jerking his head than nodding. "Yes. Justice: conformity to moral rightness; upholding fair treatment", he mumbled, as though reminding himself of the results of his continuing search for the meaning of the concept of justice.

"That's right", Hailey said patiently, her eyes never leaving his even though they hadn't received a single fleeting glance in return. "But do you remember last week, when we said that the best way to test if justice exists is to check-"

"If everyone is treated as equals, especially the weakest ones."

Hailey smiled: Leonardo was improving. She had a lot more patience left in her, and if he kept applying his curiosity and reflecting on what he learned, perhaps the day would come after all when he would be able to answer these questions for himself.

"Mom", he said, and she froze, now back on her feet, and looked at him. That unique transparent quality of his eyes stood out even more distinctly when surrounded by the black fabric of the mask. He looked like a little angel.

He looked at his mom's round face, which now looked to be in a state of surprise (he didn't know why but assumed it had something to do with him calling her), but in spite of it he had the urge to smile just from looking at it. She had a ravishing face, ravishing hair, and smiled almost incessantly. She was the nicest person and the prettiest mom he knew.

"Thanks", he said.

The doting Hailey kissed him on the cheek, through the mask (she knew from experience that trying to take it off would be an ill-advised move), and slowly walked- almost floated with emotion- back to the living room.

"He's improving", she said to Steve excitedly. The large, robust man sitting to her right nodded blankly, trying unsuccessfully to soften the look of dissatisfaction on his somber face. He brushed what was left of his thin black hair sideways in order to cover the large bald patch at the top of his scalp, and said sparingly: "Yes. He's improving."

Hailey knew that Steve was opposed to encouraging Leonardo's behavior. He was opposed to condoning the sudden posing of questions without the slightest consideration of others' privacy or willingness to be disturbed without explaining to him that it was wrong. But he knew as well as she did that this was part of Leonardo's condition, and since she was the expert he didn't interfere with her handling of it.

Leonardo had been diagnosed two years earlier as suffering a type of autism known as Asperger Syndrome. His impaired ability to understand and take into consideration the fact that others had different needs, desires and feelings than his own was one of the most notable manifestations of the syndrome. His difficulty in grasping abstract notions- like justice- despite the fact that his vocabulary was extremely developed for a 9-year-old boy (though he sometimes used complex words very awkwardly where they didn't fit) was another. The same was true for his occasional impolite act or remark; for the fact that he quickly lost interest in a conversation and that his thoughts easily drifted away to their own internal world; for his fixation with certain dull habits like moving the pieces around on the chessboard; for the awkwardness he often felt in the presence of strangers or in social events; and, in a way that was quite unique to him even compared to others diagnosed with the syndrome, was an almost complete inability to tell a lie or to hide the truth. Telling an outright lie was something he'd never done before, and when he thought that something ought to be said, he found it extremely hard to hold it in. And why should he repress it? The truth was a good thing.

As an educational psychologist specializing in helping children with emotional disorders assimilate in the public school system, Hailey had ample experience dealing with children suffering from a wide spectrum of autistic disorders. And yes, it was true that no two patients, no two children, suffered the same exact symptoms to the same exact extent, and no mode of treatment ever had the exact same effect on any two people, but over the years she'd adopted general guidelines that she followed regardless of the identity of her patients or the specifics of each case. Notably, she never compromised on two gold principles: positive feedback and moderation. She never reprimanded Leonardo for his haste in asking important questions for fear of discouraging him from asking them altogether and causing him to be even more introvert. Rather, she answered them patiently, hoping and expecting that as his understanding of abstract concepts rose (which it no doubt was), so would his ability to acknowledge the feelings of others and engage his environment in a more socially acceptable way.

"Don't forget that he's your son", Steve had once said to her. And he was absolutely right: there wasn't a mother in the world whose professional judgment was completely clear when dealing with her own son. But at the moment she felt so lightheaded that she couldn't even read the lines in the book and simply sat there on the couch beside her husband, staring abstract-mindedly at the ink on the paper.

Leonardo had looked her in the eye and thanked her. She couldn't remember when she'd been as happy as in those magical moments.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Two

2

 

That Sunday, the family attended the service at church as promised.

There were noticeably more congregants than usual present- more strangers- which increased Leonardo's level of discomfort and sent him lost in his own thoughts quicker than usual. He thought about more interesting things than the service like how he should reorganize the white pieces on the chessboard so they could better carry out the queen's orders, and about more exciting things like the next time he would see Jessica. His father tried to pull him back into the service, but every time he patted Leonardo on the right shoulder all it did was break off his deep concentration so he'd have to dive back in.

There was a general liveliness in the church that morning that wasn't very typical of a random Sunday service, and toward the end of the service it became clear why this was the case. When Father Lockworth confirmed the rumors that he was going to talk about The Existents and the dramatic changes that were expected to take effect soon, an excited hubbub rose from the crowd and quickly died down to a silence rare in its stability. This time Hailey rubbed Leonardo's shoulder, and noticing this wouldn't suffice touched his left cheek. Leonardo was awakened from his reverie just in time to notice the Father saying the word justice, and was instantly filled with curiosity, pulling away from his reverie as readily as he had drifted into it.

"This is a time of change, praise the Lord", he said heavily, and the thickness of his words, which Leonardo had never appreciated, gave his momentous words an even greater weight. The high white ceiling added an echo that redoubled the effect. "And a time when change is taking place around us is the perfect opportunity to look inside ourselves and change what we know we must change. What He knows we must change. Soon, praise the Lord, the unfairness and injustice that has been brought about by those who have been blinded by greed and selfishness will be corrected. We must each follow this correction and correct ourselves wherever we have been led astray by greed, selfishness and faithlessness. We must be fair to ourselves and to Him, andrepent our sins, so that this time of change will truly affect us and make us better people than we are today. Praise the Lord."

That's it? Not a word about The Existents? Leonardo was on that volatile point between fury and devastation, and if it weren't for his father's hand squeezing his shoulder he wouldn't have been able to keep silent. None of the other congregants seemed to be bothered by it, though, and the sermon ended with a repressed din of support for the profound significance of Father Lockworth's words.

This is the point where the guys- Steve, Fred and Leonardo, suggested the family return home but were required to count the seconds until this happened by Hailey, who insisted they remain outside the church and mingle with their fellow congregants. This was especially meant for Leonardo, who had a better chance of improving his social skills and connecting with strangers or acquaintances in the relative comfort of his loved ones around him. Leonardo himself was quite indifferent to the whole thing, as he could always travel somewhere else in his mind until it was time to escape and go home. On that particular Sunday, however, things soon looked up when Francis and Sue, the two cousins who were Leonardo's classmates and best friends called out his name from the stairs just outside the church. Leonardo hurried outside, leaving his family's side and waving his hands high in the air with excitement.

"Hey Leonardo, look what I've got!" Francis exclaimed, and he flaunted a black piece of cloth, which he immediately stretched over his head. It was a bit tight and his sharp nose and black curly hair bulged under the black face mask, which everyone knew a real Existent would never allow (the Black Masks gave no clue whatsoever regarding their facial features or appearance). Leonardo noticed this at once, but anyway he never would've expected Francis to become a real Black Mask.

"That's phenomenal!" He blurted out, his little arms flailing in the air again. "I have one too- I wish I'd brought it. " And for a few moments he sank into a beautiful fantasy in which he had his black mask there with him and he put it on and stood alongside Francis. And even though Francis was much taller than him, it wouldn't matter since they'd both have their masks on and they wouldn't be themselves but two Black Masks. And Sue stood in front of them- sure, nobody could replace Jessica, but Sue was also very pretty and had a very nice voice- and talked about fairness and equality and rights and justice. He'd sunk so deep into this image that he missed the question Sue had just finished asking him.

"What did you say? I wasn't listening", he said.

Sue laughed- she had a very beautiful laugh, and was well accustomed to Leonardo's frequent lapses in concentration- and repeated the question.

"Did you see the last demonstration of The Existents? Did you see it?"

"Ha! Ha ha!" Leonardo burst out in a rolling laughter that made his friends laugh along with him though there was nothing to really laugh about. "I was at the demonstration. And Jessica saw me!"

Francis slipped off his mask urgently and looked at Leonardo with big dark eyes shining with fascination. "I don't believe it!" He blurted out hoarsely.

"Why don't you believe it? I'm telling the truth", Leonardo said, pouting. Why would he lie about it? He'd never do it!

"I'm only kidding", Francis said, and he and Sue couldn't suppress a chuckle that grew into another unrestrained guffaw when they saw an awkward smile form at the edge of Leonardo's lips.

Soon the kids' mothers appeared, as if having materialized from thin air, beside them. Straggling behind were the three husbands and Fred. After the mothers exchanged pleasantries (Leonardo didn't understand the point of all the hugging and kissing. He found it very fake), Sandra, Sue's short, pretty mother who wore funny glasses, patted Leonardo's head. His smooth brown hair was so thick that her small hand almost sunk inside it.

"Leo! It's so wonderful to see you", she cried in such an adoring, high-pitched voice that he knew she wouldn't use with someone normal.

"It's Leonardo!"

"It's Leonardo, mom", Sue whispered reprehensively, pulling her mother's arm as if to emphasize the gravity of the transgression.

"Oh that's right. I'm sorry, honey."

"That's okay", he said reluctantly. He forgave Sandra because he liked her. From this point the mothers took over the conversation, speaking of this and that and mentioning this guy and that girl and so on. Steve said some kind words to Sandra, which made Leonardo chuckle since he knew his father was very impatient to go home.

Dennis, who was Francis's father and Sandra's sister (though he looked nothing like her and just about the only thing they had in common was that Leonardo was fond of them both), joined the group and swayed the conversation in the direction everybody had been waiting for it to go in:

"So who went to the demonstration last week?"

Leonardo grinned at the stocky man who was standing at the other end of the improvised circle that the group was positioned in, and his eyes widened in an expression of complete joy. Dennis had called it The Demonstration!

TheDemonstration!

Even with the large space between the two upper teeth at the front of his mouth, Leonardo had a charming smile that his mother said one day would melt the hearts of many girls (which Leonardo never understood). Dennis winked at him and grinned back. His yellow teeth and the wrinkles that formed at the sides of his eyes and on his forehead were quite an eyesore, but it made Leonardo's grin spread even wider and his eyes spark with joy.

"Oh, we couldn't make it", Sue, standing behind Francis, who was almost the same height as she, deplored with her hand on his shoulder. "He wanted to go so much. But we did get a mask!"

Francis whipped out his black mask again as if on queue and stretched it over his head again to the cheers of the others. Sue appeared to be disheartened since she'd neither gone to The Demonstration nor did she have a black mask to prove her support of The Existents, while Leonardo gladly assumed the spotlight for once as the boy whose connection and loyalty to The Existents was the greatest of all (since he'd gone to The Demonstration and had a mask). And Sue's temporary dejection didn't discourage him in the least.

"What these Existents are doing is very ambitious", said the tallest man in the group, Sue's father, Paul. He was so much taller than his wife that whenever he saw him Leonardo stared at him with a puzzled look that sent his eyebrows flying in a hundred different directions. Paul was a very serious man, and whenever Leonardo saw him he was wearing a black suit and that useless fabric band that was called a tie. "But it's not as easy as it seems. I would be careful to celebrate their victory just yet."

A brilliant though sparked in Leonardo's mind even before Paul had finished speaking, and without hesitating he declared proudly:

"Justice. She is sneaky and evasive, but here we have tracked her down. Her captors are still holding her hostage, but we will tolerate it no longer. Only once we have caught her with our own two hands will we be deserving of her!"

He was trembling with excitement, but nonetheless pronounced the words in a perfect flow of energy and with profound faith in them. A silence fell over the group, which was utterly stunned by this little performance. Though they all understood the allusion, nobody else in the group remembered this passage with nearly the same precision as Leonardo did.

Hailey stared at her son with complete fixation. Her right hand had, as if of its own accord, risen and pressed against the left part of her chest. She'd never seen Leonardo speak with such confidence. Especially- this was what made the occasion so absolutely incredible- in front of such a crowd. Steve, on the other hand, stared from the outside of the circle with unmistakable concern on his face. There was something about the way he viewed things that was different from the others.

Leonardo was the star of the day.

 

Dr. Joshua was older than Leonardo's parents, as the black wig on his head suggested. It was sometimes a little strange to see the contrast between his gray sideburns and the black hair. Once when Leonardo had seen the wig come off accidentally after Dr. Joshua had bumped his head into the mailbox he couldn't stop laughing for an entire week- or at least that's how he remembered it. The glasses Dr. Joshua always wore were too big, and his nose was too small. Sometimes the glasses would slide down the nose and he would have to adjust them carefully on the bridge. He was big and chubby, and he was much fonder of smiling than of scowling. They didn't see him very often, but every time someone from the family ran into him he would ramble on almost incessantly. He always had something interesting to say about his job.

He worked as a senior science advisor for the Industry. It'd taken Leonardo a long time to understand what this meant, especially to manage to comprehend something as vast, invisible and mysterious as the Industry.

The Industry Dr. Joshua worked for was the same one The Existents had been bashing recently. It had never been in the spotlight before simply because tremendous efforts had always been made to keep it under the radar, and nobody had incentive to put it under the microscope. But now everybody knew about the Industry, and whenever somebody used that term- the Industry- there could be no doubt that they were referring to the same one (just like The Demonstration, but with a completely opposite connotation). The Industry's job was to produce, train, raise and supply Wretches to the people. Wretches were the creatures (a more accurate definition would be not 'creatures' but 'things', as the Industry had made clear long ago) that provided services for the people. Servants, like 462, were one kind of Wretches. Many kinds of Wretches were produced for various different ends- there were those that helped with clearing waste, there were Disaster Wretches who specialized in securing, testing and clearing disaster zones, there were Wretches that helped in the production of other Wretches, there were Wretches that helped with conducting experiments to help produce better Wretches in the future, Wretches that took part in food production, and so on- but what they all had in common was that they were all produced by the Industry and belonged to it. Whenever someone requested to acquire the services of any number of Wretches, they contacted the Industry and requested the necessary service be provided; the Wretches always remained in the ownership of the Industry (this was true even for servants) and were stored in special Storage Camps. One couldn't buy a Wretch, but only hire its services. Nobody knew why this was the case, but the Industry claimed it saved on operational costs. Wretches were a vital resource- a public commodity, perhaps- and their privatization was to be adamantly avoided. All Wretches came in four sizes: large, medium, small and petit. 462 was a small, which was most common for servants.

All Wretches originated from the same place- no one knew for sure where and when it was, but it was believed that they used to be wild savages so hopeless that they were going to disappear when they were found by some of the earliest inhabitants of the city thousands of years ago. Wishing to save the Wretches from their misery, the people took them in and began to teach and instruct them so that they would serve some purpose, overcome their cultureless nature and simply become better.

And with time they succeeded. They made the Wretches suitable to fill certain tasks and specialized in certain skills (they'd had no skills before). They taught them, raised them, kept them safe from each other and from the outside environment; they started producing better Wretches that were far superior to the first unworthy ones they'd found. Basically, they turned them from something useless without a purpose in the world to something meaningful, capable and safe. Of course over time there was no point in everyone taking part in the production and care of the Wretches, so the Industry was formed and assumed complete responsibility for all the Wretches in the city. Today, the Wretches were so successful that there were far more Wretches than people in the city and they played a vital part in the people's daily lives. They really owed the people everything. It was this fact- that their existence was possible only thanks to the people, and that the purpose of their existence was to serve the people- that had procured them their other common designation: Nonexistents. And it was in reference to this designation that the group of young men and women fighting for justice had chosen the name The Existents. It implied that, unlike the Nonexistents, they as part of the people were entitled to justice and in fact their existence depended on it (as did all of the people, whom they represented). At least that's what the media said.

All the Industry's facilities were located at the outskirts of the city so as not to disturb the people. After all, Wretches were inferior creatures (or actually things, or products- whatever an industry churns out is its product, which in this case was of course Wretches) and nobody wanted to live next to a Storage Camp filled with noisy, foul Wretches or work in the vicinity of a Training Camp with the most uncultured ones, and so on. Trucks transported Wretches into the city at an early morning hour, and back to their Storage Camps after dark so as to minimize unnecessary contact between them and the people. So the separation was almost complete- the people had their own space and the Wretches had theirs.

That's pretty much all one needed to know about it, and that's what Leonardo had managed to grasp after repeated explanations from his mom and classes at school about the vitality of the Industry and its immeasurable contribution to the people and to the Wretches. So far there could be no complaints, since the people were happy and were being provided a fine service without being overcharged for it (everyone knew that all families were provided one servant free of charge). But when the voice of The Existents first rose from among the people, things suddenly changed. Suddenly people's eyes were opened to the corruption and the ties between government and the Industry (mainly the Camp owners, who were the richest and most powerful people in the Industry, and they were the ones who called the shots), and to the unfairness and injustice this caused. People realized that the weakest links in this whole realm of the Wretches- the people- were being shortchanged and used. They cried out, and they vowed never again to close their eyes in the face of injustice. Sure, it was easier to just shut one's eyes and turn the other way as if nothing wrong was happening, but it wasn't the right thing to do.

Dr. Joshua's part in this whole operation was, well, Leonardo didn't know exactly, but they all knew that he called himself specialist in Wretches' neurological responses to external stimuli. According to Steve, this meant he researched how different things in the environment affected the Wretches and made recommendations to the Industry about how to change the environment in order to improve the Wretches (or how to change the Wretches to be more suitable to the environment). In any case, being a specialist for the Industry- especially a senior one- was an extremely desirable position and in very high demand, so whatever Dr. Joshua said with respect to his work was accorded great esteem by the family. And very conveniently, the latest developments, which caused great havoc in government and the Industry in general, seemed to have barely affected Dr. Joshua. What a simple man he was, with such power and influence in the palms of his hands, but still not blinded by his own personal gain at the expense of others!

"I saw you guys at the Demonstration", he rasped to Hailey when he bumped into the family on the 4th floor just outside the elevator (Leonardo grinned again at the sound of this wonderful phrase- The Demonstration). He said this as a student who has cheated on an exam confides in a friend- with more excitement than guilt, and always suspecting that the wrong person might find out if he weren't careful.

"You were there?" Hailey whispered back, appreciating the sensitivity of the situation. Even Leonardo understood it- for an important employee in the Industry to go the Demonstration was certainly not something that the Industry would be happy about.

Dr. Joshua nodded with a mischievous grin on his round plump face. "It was something, wasn't it?" And the moment his glance drifted over to Leonardo, Leonardo couldn't hold in his zeal and he raised his hands in the air and blurted out: "You're awesome!"

Dr. Joshua held out a short thick hand for Leonardo to jump and high-five. "You know, they're not happy one bit in the Industry with what's happening. It's going to make things run a lot less smoothly, and they say it's going to cut short-term profit by 10-20%." Even this was said without the slightest trace of concern- the doctor sounded almost mischievous. And he immediately explained why: "But only the big shots care about it. I think it's great- help those who need it, why not?"

"Aren't you going to have to give up your second servant?" Steve asked, as though trying to make Dr. Joshua doubt his own nonchalance. It was true that most industry employees were provided not one but two free servants per household, and that it looked as though the Existents' campaign would prompt Industry policy-makers to revoke this privilege.

"I already have. To say the truth, I really didn't need two- nobody really needs two. They would just wander around the apartment duplicating each other's work."

"So why does the Industry provide so many employees with two?" Hailey wondered.

"It's simple. Their production has become so cheap that the Industry doesn't mind increasing supply. Sand Blowers have always maintained that getting more than the common people did keeps the employees happy even if they have no use for the surplus, and that it generally encourages an increase in demand for more Wretches."

Sand Blowers was the nickname given to the most important cogs in the machine that was the Industry, who were charged with publicity, marketing, campaigning, and everything that had to do with the image of Wretches in the eyes of the people. The name had its roots in one of the earliest and most famous of image campaigns ever undertaken by the Industry, in which a Wretch was depicted as buried under the ground in the middle of a barren desert with nothing but hot sand surrounding it. The Wretch is wounded, filthy, and much uglier and more savage than modern Wretches. Then, a man who was later recognized as the pioneer of the Industry in the city is seen marching toward the pathetic, sand-covered brute, digging it out of the scorching ground and blowing the sand off its huge, furry body. The Wretch sees the blinding light of the sun for the first time and allows its savior to carry it away to a beautiful oasis in the desert. It was this campaign that established the robust image of the industry as a savior or at least a beneficiary of Wretches. Another meaning that the name eventually took on is, quite appropriately, the gist of the Sand Blowers' duty: to blow the sand away from the eyes of the people so they could see the Industry and the Wretches for what they really were: a terrific service to the people. Sand Blowers were just about at the top of the food chain in the Industry, far higher up than Trainers, who were in charge of training and educating young Wretches before they were put on the market; the Inspectors, who were responsible for inspecting and verifying that the different Camps complied with the rules and regulations that governed them (and who often befriended Camp owners), and many of the other different positions in the Industry. They were second only to Camp owners, who were typically the richest and some of the most powerful people in the city. And they were revered not only for their status and wealth, but for the cleverness and perspicacity that were associated with their work.

The average person in the city didn't know this, but the Industry consisted of five different kinds of areas, each with it own designated purpose. They were separated from each other, but were normally located in proximity to each other (sometimes in the same large compound), and were always at the outskirts of the city, walled in and insulated from the environment. The first Camp was the Production Camp, where Wretches were bred or replicated. This was where breeding female Wretches, or Outlets, were held from the moment they started producing until their production rate went below a certain point, at which point they would be removed and replaced.

The second Camp was where young, or newly produced, Wretches were educated, trained and modified for their future functions. These were known as Training Camps and served as a short-period transit stop for most Wretches.

After completing the training stage, most Wretches were moved to Storage Camps, where they were kept whenever they were off duty inside the city. Another option was for them to be transported to Conversion Camps, where they took part in the food production process (the Industry supplied 35% of the city's entire food supply).

Finally, sick and spent Wretches were cared for in Recovery Camps. Recovery Camps were large, domed compounds completely insulated from the outside in order to prevent disease spread and allow the introduction of special substances that had been cleared from the city.

This rough outline of the structure and operation of the Industry was, it should be repeated and emphasized, more than the average man knew. Any man who knew more than this was almost inevitably an employee of the Industry or a very well serviced politician. And there was no real need for anyone to know more, since things were working smoothly and once the issue of fairness would be addressed, everyone would be happy.

Three

3

 

The report of an explosion at a small power plant in the Eastern part of the city provoked a great deal of concern and curiosity in the whole city. Fortunately, a large group of Wretches were sent to control the area, extinguish the flames and test the suspicions of possible gas leakage that could put the safety of the residents of the area in danger, including the family. The operation was swift and effective: an initial team was sent to completely seal the area off by laying down a giant rubber dome over the plant. Then the flames were put out and a large team of Wretches was sent inside to clean the air of a methane leak that had indeed been detected (it wasn't clear how cleaning the air was undertaken exactly, but the bottom line of the report was one: the leak had been controlled and any concern for the safety of the people had been removed).

"Fortunately, the quick and effective response to the event has allowed the city's Control of Hazardous Substances department to boast another casualty-free operation. Damage in property is estimated in the tens of thousands, including minor damage to the plant's main generator and all gas tanks, and fifty-five Wretches expired from inhalation of hazardous substances", stated the final live television report from the event.

"Is that justice?" Leonardo, who was at the chess table and had somehow managed to listen in (and concentrate) at the same tame, wondered.

"What do you mean, baby?" Hailey said as she rose from the couch and headed to the kitchen to prepare an early dinner before the night's big event.

"That there were no casualties. Because someone who doesn't do anything wrong shouldn't suffer or die, right?"

Hailey stopped and squinted at her son in full appreciation of the question. "Yes, that's justice. Justice handed down to the people from God."

"But I thought people make justice."

"Oh, no. God makes justice; people's job is to follow and respect it."

Leonardo didn't like this answer. He didn't understand who God was and why people acted so differently when they spoke about him. And he was afraid to ask, because he thought his mom didn't really know who God was, and then he'd have to ask Father Lockworth. He didn't want to ask Father Lockworth. Anyway, in case God really was responsible for justice and thanks to him justice had been done and nobody died from the explosion and the gas leak, Leonardo joined his hands the way he saw people who wanted to talk to God do, and mumbled:

"God, thank you for giving us justice."

But he soon forgot completely about God and the explosion and even about the white pieces poised better than ever to execute their queen's instructions. Instead, he thought about that evening- it was only two hours away now- when the real queen would tell the people what was going to happen and where justice was standing. He thought about that moment when she would find him in the crowd again, and that it was going to be unforgettable.

Indeed, it was an event that provoked an unprecedented level of expectation in the entire city. That evening, two major events were going to merge into a single burst of excitement and festivity that would change the face of the city. The first of the two events- under ordinary circumstances the greatest event of the year and one that was unparalleled in the excitement and anticipation it created throughout the whole city- was the annual Beauty Walls event. This event took place up north, at what was considered by many to be the city's most beautiful scenic spot: the Hanging Gardens outside the southern wall of the Industry's largest compound in the city. It was a giant compound of over three square kilometers, and the southern wall- largest and thickest of all four faces since it faced the city- towered twelve meters into the air and spanned an entire kilometer across. But the face of this colossal mass of brick, originally a plain, uniform white color, was never seen. You could stand at arm's length away from any point in the southern wall and still not see the smallest white speck. This is because a thick mass of vegetation had been beautifully, artistically and meticulously grown on the walls for years until it had converted what was originally a frightening monster into a feast for the eyes. The southern wall wasn't white but a deep, verdant green dotted with a jumble of other colors, some of which seemed to be yet unnamed, and looked to have a life of its own. Thick vines stretched from the top down, flowers and creepers emerged from the cracks between the rocks, and a hundred different bushes sprang from the ground, bending this way and that in pursuit of sunlight. It was a botanical masterpiece and the quintessence of what man and nature could achieve when working together.

This was the most popular setting for many family events that were held freely anywhere along the wall on Saturday afternoons (in light of the length of the wall, each part of which was equally surprising and beautiful, a hundred different events could easily be held there simultaneously), but there was one time every year- one magical night that had become ingrained in the city's culture- in which the Gardens came alive. The Beauty Walls event was organized by the Industry, and it was an open event that close to half the city's population attended every year. It consisted of a magnificent display of lights dancing on the Gardens, accompanied by specially devised audio effects. The audio and visual systems were installed and taken down by teams of Wretches a day before and after the Beauty Walls night. Often, a short laser show introducing to the enormous audience part of the glorious history of the Industry was played as a preview to the climax of the night: the boldest, most innovative, riskiest and unthinkable acrobatic shows that a man could ever see. The performers were Wretches specially trained and modified for the feat, and the crowd was never disappointed by the performance. Some of the more popular drills were those held at the top of the south wall (a small platform that continued the face of the wall was installed there to avoid harming the vegetation). The crowd's favorites were usually two: first there was the ten-minute tango piece between a pair of Wretches, who despite their relative litheness were entertainingly awkward. Although the wall was a thick one- perhaps two meters thick- it could hardly suffice for a world-class pair of dancers, let alone the clumsy Wretches. Therefore, there was always a surplus of dancers, waiting to substitute any dancer that fell off the wall. Wretches on the ground cleared any 'fallers' almost at once so they didn't disturb the harmony of the scene. It was a wonderful combination of entertainment, art and tension for the crowd. Second, always at the top of the list in every Beauty Walls event and therefore always held at the very end, was The Duel.

The duel was a barehanded fight between a man and a full-grown, especially large Wretch. There were no weapons allowed, no safety word to stop the fight, and no outside help. Only when one of the duelers was thrown off the wall did the fight come to an end. It was a battle of might, technique and above all willpower between man and Wretch. The Wretch was always bigger, stronger, fiercer and uglier, but the man always won. It wasn't so much a fight as a celebration of the greatness and the limitless ability of the people to exceed themselves and achieve the impossible. At the Beauty Walls, anything was possible.

The second of the two events- the second part of the combined grant event, that is- was The Existents' victory event or to be more specific, Jessica's victory speech. Negotiations between The Existents, officials and senior members of the Industry had been completed, and that night Jessica was going to declare the results. It was no secret that The Existents had attained a complete triumph in their battle, and everyone was prepared for a memorable victory party. It was going to be a night in which justice declared its victory over injustice, equality over discrimination, and fairness over abuse.

Everybody was going to be there. What a night!

The family arrived early, but not early enough. There were already throngs of people packed tightly together, trying to secure the best viewpoint to the small platform that had been erected in front of the Garden, at an equal distance from both ends of the southern wall. Getting a spot in front was close to impossible, but the family found a fine spot right in front of the stage at such a distance that would allow them to see the expression on Jessica's face. Big screens would be erected shortly for the benefit of those located further along the wall, and would broadcast every sound that left Jessica's mouth and any expression on her pretty face (if any such expression ever manifested).

Under the encouragement of the organizers the crowd kept silent for long minutes, only soft murmurs rising above the surface every now and then. The perfect harmony of the scene- the quiet night, the soft lights shooting out from every direction and in a variety of colors that blended perfectly with the Gardens, and most of all the lushness of the Gardens themselves (there was so much life on the wall that an intoxicating odor of life and rejuvenation reached even those at the very back of the growing crowd) - was so tangible that the silence went on and on. Nobody wanted to break the uncanny, eerie joy and tranquility of those moments.

A thought occurred to Leonardo that the Wretches must also have been asked to keep quiet, and indeed not a sound came from the other side of the wall. He wondered if they should feel grateful to them for being so considerate. Being grateful to a Wretch- it was a very unorthodox thing to do. Almost like being grateful to the black pieces for allowing the white ones to checkmate their king.

These were very good thoughts, since they helped him pass the time until Jessica came on stage. He failed to appreciate the value of his current anticipation, excitement, enjoyment of the moments that preceded the main event of the night, and the rarity of the occasion. Never before had the city donned such fancy attire as on that night. Not even the Hanging Gardens had ever been blessed with such mysterious magnificence as they were in those moments of silence. Like almost everyone else there (perhaps with the exception of Steve, who was even caught by Hailey checking his watch on more than one occasion), Leonardo was infused with a weight and array of emotions such as he'd never experienced before that night. If they'd left that very moment and returned home it would've been a crushing disappointment for him but also- already- a night which would never leave the family's collective memory.

As the level of anticipation and impatience rose and more people joined the crowd at the wide tail at such a distance from the Gardens, the platform and the future screens that they would likely see nothing but the backs of heads and hazy lights throughout the night, the murmur of the audience grew stronger until the magical silence had vanished and made way for mild nervousness.

There had been speculations as to why The Existents had agreed to hold their key event at a venue that was the very icon of the Industry and a symbol of its grandness. Some believed it was a compromise conceded by The Existents in exchange for being granted their material demands. Others thought they were seeking to hold an event that would remain forever etched in the memory of the city, which the grandeur of the Beauty Walls would help them accomplish. Another theory that had passed down the grapevine was that this was the Industry's idea as a concession of the justness of The Existents' demands and a readiness to confer them, and the people who followed them, the honor they deserved. Others still were simply grateful for the opportunity to be present in such a cornerstone experience for the future of the city- there was a rampant feeling, that only grew thicker and more pervasive as the anticipated moment drew near, that this was going to be a unique night in the lives of the people and in the history of the city, one that they would pass on to posterity. This alone, they believed, stultified the possibility of holding the event anywhere else. But there was almost unanimous consensus in the crowd regarding one thing: it was a sound decision, and there was no finer place than the Gardens in which to hold the event. Nobody in the crowd knew the truth, but they would all find out soon.

Suddenly, something happened and the silence from before fell upon the thousands and thousands of nervously expectant men, women and children bound together by the same fraught emotions waiting to burst out.

The lights had gone out. All at once, complete darkness covered the entire huge area. For a few moments the area beyond the Hanging Gardens was as a desolate, barren desert. It might've been this perfect tranquility or the now almost unbearable anticipation that made Leonardo, like many others around him, involuntarily hold his breath. And a moment later anyone who hadn't been holding his breath did so, and the air stood still when a voice, clear and known and loved and fresh emerged from the darkness.

"We have come a long way together, and today justice is ours!"

Like a safety pin removed from a grenade, the sound of Jessica's voice fired the crowd, which exploded with all the pent-up emotions that had been fermenting inside it. A roar of support, the likes of which had never been heard in the city in terms of both volume and pitch, erupted into the night. When the din started to die down, Jessica continued:

"Today I will speak to you in darkness. Justice is blind, it has no face and no identity, and such are we, The Existents."

Leonardo was amazed. How could she keep so calm when everybody around her was in such a frenzy? He could never have done it! He instinctively put on his black mask, and he noticed several people in front of him do the same. The people were disappointed at not being able to see Jessica speak, but they were entranced by her words and by this novel idea of speaking in the darkness to the point where their excitement grew even stronger. Leonardo closed his eyes and imagined Jessica standing on the stage with the Black Masks behind her, poised and beautiful. In his imagination her image was just as clear and vivid as she would be if the lights would've all come on at once and shined on her.

"Justice can't be seen. It can't be touched and it can't be changed. You can't tilt or bend it; it is strong, static, stable. Under the brightest light or the deepest darkness it is always the same. Tonight we will not see justice, but we will feel it in the depths of our souls. Those who have kept justice away from us have yielded before our uncompromising persistence, and tonight justice will settle upon us and change us forever. Tonight justice is on our side!"

Yes, Leonardo agreed. If nobody could see or touch justice than no one could change it either. And now more than ever he felt he was understanding what justice actually was. And how happy he was that it was on this magical night that he would meet justice for the first time!

There was another burst of excitement, which abated slightly when Jessica's invisible voice began to specify the major points of agreement between The Existents (as humble representatives of the people), and the Industry. It was natural that the crowd was less in a craze during this phase of the speech, since men and women are always more attracted to and excited by romantic slogans than by dry facts. It was as though Jessica's heartfelt creeds and mottos had a force of gravity that was much stronger than that of any individual achievement The Existents had achieved on behalf of the people. She briefly recounted the achievements regarding the main demands of The Extremists on behalf of the people- in principle, all Four Pillars had been conceded in full. The victory was a reverberating one.

The crowd was starting to grow weary, not out of disinterest or disappointment but rather out of sheer emotional fatigue. The silence was still complete and the fixation on Jessica's voice undistracted, but the energy and the will to surrender oneself to the words that were leaving her mouth no longer seemed inexhaustible. Leonardo was the same as before, his support and the vividness of the image in his mind still trenchant to the point where it seemed they couldn't be any more so. But even he started to realize that some of the electricity in the air was beginning to dispel. This all changed, however, when the listing of the achievements was complete and for the first time since her first public appearance Jessica made a comment on stage that wasn't directly related to the fight.

"Can someone please turn on the stage lights?" She requested, and not a few seconds went by before, amid the surrounding darkness, a delicate stream of light illuminated the small and undecorated stage. It came as no surprise to anyone in the crowd that The Existents' presence on stage was just as it'd always been: the black masks standing like robots at the back, as though the maintenance of justice itself relied on their ability to remain motionless, and at the front the beautiful, confident, unpresumptuous Jessica. A wave of vocal support tried to rise from the heart of the audience, but quickly vanished back into silence when rejected by the silent astonishment of the majority. They were astonished because they felt that something important was coming.

"My friends", said the woman at whom all the eyes in the city were now directed. "By fighting against the injustice directed against us and finally defeating it, we have assumed upon ourselves the responsibility of fighting injustice wherever we may find it, even when we are not its victims."

Leonardo was thrilled. From the eyeholes in his black masks he stared into Jessica's eyes as though he were studying some never before seen natural phenomenon. And through the black fabric he listened to her words as someone straining to make out the final breaths drawn by a dying old man. There was something different about the words she way saying and the way she said them. Perhaps Leonardo alone in the whole crowd of thousands recognized the crack in her shell of confidence, her hesitation and even apprehension from something that only the Black masks and she knew at the moment, but which was about to be revealed to the entire crowd. But it was only a momentary lapse and soon her resolve in the rightness of her message recomposed her and redoubled her strength.

"Tonight justice is on our side and we may celebrate our union with it", she said so naturally that it's as though she had never rehearsed this discourse before. It was like there was some inexhaustible source of inspiration that she drew her every word from.

"But tomorrow- tomorrow a new fight must begin, for there is injustice- an injustice tenfold darker than the one we have suffered until tonight- taking place every day in front of our eyes. It is like a huge black hole, swallowing justice and making it disappear if it even dare go near. And the fact that we aren't the targets of this injustice doesn't mitigate our responsibility in bringing it to an end- if anything it increases our responsibility, since we can't replace its victims in assessing its gravity or accepting it."

The murmur that spread through the audience almost at once was one of confusion. Could this be true? Could there be any injustice directed against anyone else but the audience itself? Or more precisely, could there be any kind of justice except for justice done to and in the benefit of the people themselves? Leonardo had an especially difficult time comprehending this concept. He had been under the impression that all the justice in the world belonged to him and to those around him, and that there was only injustice when they were robbed of their right for justice. And now Jessica herself was saying differently. He felt almost offended by the suggestion that he wasn't special- that others were also entitled to the same tenacious fight for justice as he was. Perhaps he still wasn't ready to understand it.

She had to be wrong, but on the other hand she had to be right. What she said next was even more outrageous.

"This terrible injustice I present to you in this sacred night is the one caused to the Wretches. The nonexistents on which we so desperately depend in almost every aspect of our everyday lives. They- and not we- are the victims of the real injustice that takes place in every moment of every minute of every day in our city."

The murmur grew, now a volatile mix of shock, panic and outrage. These emotions and reactions were completely novel in any of the The Existents' public events scene, and they were felt even in Leonardo's immediate surroundings: his mother and brother whispered to each other in disbelief. His father remained silent, as did Leonardo himself, except for a barely audible snort that escaped his masked nose when he pictured a Wretch standing on stage next to Jessica.

"For many years we- the people of this city- have acted as though nonexistents (she used this epithet with noticeable disgust) aren't entitled to justice. We have ignored the fact that, if we gave them the chance, they would seek justice just as strongly as we have. They would opt for happiness over suffering, freedom over slavery and life over death. This is all that's needed for anyone to deserve justice."

Several cries of anger could be heard from various areas in the audience. It sounded as though she were entertaining the outrageous, preposterous claim that the people were unjust. Leonardo, on the other hand, was searching with his eyes for the offenders, but in the relative darkness it was impossible to clearly make out any individual outside of a very narrow radius. They were angry at Jessica- it was preposterous! Then he heard his brother say:

"She's losing it. We are the ones suffering injustice- how could she say we are unjust?" Though Fred was a success story and the one with the brighter future, greater potential, more friends and more respect from the relatives between the brothers, this was the first time Leonardo could remember being angry with him. But this anger dissipated when Jessica continued:

"We have allowed ourselves to be blinded into indifference, but tonight we can end our blindness. For us to bring blindness to them we must look inside ourselves and find the most basic building block of justice, without which real and complete justice can never exist."

Some random suggestions were hollered from the audience, a few of them provoking laughs and sneers and others being met with a short admonishment, but none of them stopped the flow of Jessica's words.

"Never under any circumstances, in no time or place, for no span of time and to no extent, and by no man or woman in the history of the world- never has true justice existed without the presence of compassion. Without compassion, justice is merely an individual's fight to uphold one's own interests and rights. A man or woman in pursuit of such justice is actually saying: 'I should not get less than you; give me what is mine!'

"Do you know what is happening behind this wall? How is it that in all the years we all came together in this beautiful place we have never heard a single sound from the other side of the wall? How is it that when we spend entire Saturday afternoons at any spot in front of this great wall we can rest assured that not one disconcerting noise will disturb our peace?"

It began to dawn on some of the audience why The Existents had chosen this location of all others for the victory event. Of the family it was only Steve that fathomed the significance of the venue at this point: this, perhaps above anywhere else, was where the contrast between justice and injustice was the most conspicuous, and Jessica was about to lay it bare. The rest were listening intently, either with concern or at what they were about to hear or with the usual admiration. In any case, the level of curiosity in the audience retrieved the silence that had vanished for a while.

"Here, right behind me, is the largest Production Camp in the city. Here is where new Wretches are produced."

The silence now was so perfect that even the breeze that had been blowing before retreated, as if reluctant to disturb the rarity of the moment. It was hard to believe that Jessica was relating to something as dull and insignificant as Production Camps. It was so insignificant, in fact, that almost nobody in the audience had ever given it much attention before, which was the reason for the current fascination.

"Production Camps are normally the noisiest, saddest places of all Camps, and you couldn't find the havoc that takes place inside them anywhere else. It is the place where mother Wretches cry the cry of hopelessness of being torn away from their newborns, cries of such misery that no brick wall could ever block out. And still, we hear nothing", Jessica continued, delving into a bleaker realm than anything The Existents had ever touched upon in any public event. With this came another change that couldn't go unnoticed, and which sent chills running down Leonardo's short spine. Jessica's voice, her entire manner, was affected by a graveness that had never been there before. She was still poised and pretty, her now iconic face maintained its usual determined but unemotional expression, but the levity and resilience from before were gone. She seemed to no longer really want to speak- or maybe she didn't want to hear herself saying what came out of her mouth- but rather to feel compelled to do so.

To Leonardo, hearing her instantly turned from utter joy to a frightening experience that had to be bore and tolerated rather than relished. He suddenly ceased to enjoy it, but somehow his fixation grew even stronger. She was like some bearer of important bad news.

"This quiet that we all enjoy is the result of a meticulous and crafty solution that the Industry came up with to silence the mothers- or silence entire Production Camps, really", Jessica's heavy voice continued. Suddenly a movement too obscure to make out in the darkness was noticed in the proximity of the stage and beyond the first line of people in the audience. The movement belonged to Industry employees who had been instructed to stop Jessica's speech, end The Existents' event and allow the immediate opening of the show. When this group of young men was about to climb the small staircase that led to the stage they were stopped by two policemen who were part of the increased security detail that had been deployed to secure the event and ensure the safety of The Existents and the property in case the crowd became overly excited. The current concern was that if Jessica were disturbed in any way the enormous crowd might get out of control. So the stage remained clear of anyone who wasn't Jessica or the black masks, but suddenly lights started dancing around the Gardens and music not loud enough to drown out Jessica's voice but sufficient to fluster the crowd emerged. A majority of the crowd, including Leonardo, believed this to be a technical malfunction that would be repaired shortly, but Jessica thought differently and rather than pause and wait, she increased the volume and the speed of her speech. The crowd's silence was broken and there was a tangible sense of discontent and restlessness that was felt as strongly on stage as in the backmost rows in the audience, so that Jessica was almost bellowing in order to be heard over the music and the rising murmur. But even then neither her confidence nor her conviction foundered, and she was almost as beautifully feminine as she'd been in the first moments after the stage lights had come on that evening.

"You might imagine that to prevent a mother- any mother- from crying out when her baby is taken away from her would require the employment of extreme measures. Indeed, to this end the Industry has contrived a method whose efficiency is exceeded only by its cruelty; it is so cruel, in fact, that I would recommend any mother present to leave now and never hear what I am about to say." This last sentence was obviously not a sincere one (and it wasn't meant to sound like one), since there wasn't a single woman in the audience who, even if given a real chance, would dare forego Jessica's next few words. The restless murmur of the crowd died down again and now only the slow, beautiful music and colorful lights broke Jessica's dominance.

Leonardo was afraid of what Jessica was going to say next, but he too didn't even consider shutting his ears or asking his mom to somehow make it go away.

"On Saturday afternoons, and once a year on this day of celebration and of beauty and of exuberance, breeding mother Wretches- outlets- are forbidden to give birth- to produce. This is done voluntarily by the mothers, who do everything within their power to delay birth until the forbidden period is over. Mothers have even been known to physically block newborns' path to the world. This 'voluntary' delay of the newborn's birth has been induced by the Industry through realizing mothers' worst imaginable nightmare- worse still, in fact, since it is something so terrible that one couldn't imagine it unless one has seen it take place. Before, a punishment was developed by Industry scientists to convince mothers to prevent brining a newborn to the world during the forbidden period at all costs. It was quite simple, really: a device known as Bad Mothers would be brought into the Production Camp where the offense had taken place and the mother and her newborn placed inside. The mother would be placed inside a small cage and her newborn was locked beside the cage in a sealed transparent tank. The bottom of the mother's cage acted as a catalyst: whenever a certain weight was exerted on it, water would be pumped into the newborn's tank. Once the mother realized this, she would cling to the top of the cage with all her might and never touch the bottom. But even the strongest, most tenacious of mothers couldn't hold on forever, and eventually they would all plunge to the bottom and have their own body weight cause the tank next to them to fill up and drown their helpless newborn. In the open, before thousands of other mothers who bore witness to the atrocity, they would helplessly accept the fact that they were physically responsible for the deaths of their newborns. It was so effective that for five years no newborn Wretch has come to the world during the forbidden periods. I say this to you not as a woman, a future mother or an Existent, but as someone whose sense of compassion burns inside her at the thought of this injustice."

The red lights were now playing on Jessica and the small podium she was at, and for some reason all Leonardo could see instead of the red light was blood. Blood on the podium, blood on Jessica's beautiful face, and even blood on his black mask which made him shudder and take it off. Hailey, like most women in the audience, stood silently with a pale, blank expression on her normally warm and emotional face, while many of the men began to holler and wade through the crowd toward the stage.

"Can any mother here imagine being put in a Bad Mother with her newborn? Can anyone here imagine even being forced to see this without running away? The Industry has so far done well to keep this reality away from us- and what I have told you is just one type of abuse out of countless others- but no longer. Now, my friends, we must choose how to act: pursue justice with compassion toward these miserable creatures who are paying an unimaginable price so we can be served- or perpetuate the injustice with justice's eternal nemesis: indifference."

Compassion. Indifference. Blood. Leonardo was in a whirl, fascinated by these new concepts but at the same time almost at a loss as to Jessica's intentions and discouraged by the change in her. She now had to pause and gasp for air every few sentences, apparently due to both the high volume she was forced to maintain and the increasing violence in her body language. The lights were now swaying this way and that in an increasing speed, further aggravating the restiveness of the crowd. Never before had the Hanging Gardens area been so tumultuous.

Then, instantly, everything froze.

Something happened that hadn't happened in the city for five years before: a newborn Wretch, a new nonexistent, was brought to the world during a forbidden period. A scream- deafening, bloodcurdling, heart-rending- issued from inside the wall, so forceful that it seemed not to have to rise over the wall but pass right through the bricks. It peaked at the very first second and then simply remained, unchanging, dreadfully steady for another second, and another, and another…until nobody knew how long it lasted. There wasn't a single man, woman or child- Existent, police, Industry or audience- that didn't stand in silence, frozen, gaping, thoughtless throughout the duration of the nightmarish sound.

The scream was like none other. It was a loud screech, fraught with such pain and suffering that no actor could ever imitate it, no mind could imagine it, and no mother could hear it without feeling her knees tremble and her heart pound with an uncontrollable primordial fear. It was so terrible- so pure and inexorable in the profoundness of its pain- that all one could do when hearing it was to think 'Please God, don't let whatever is causing it ever happen to me." Even a boy like Leonardo, who didn't think he believed in God, found himself murmuring something like this. He tried to think about what Jessica had said before- compassion as the basis for justice- but the terrible feeling that gripped him during the scream didn't allow him to think clearly. The whole family was in the same condition, and even Hailey didn't turn her head to check on her sons or try to shield them from this traumatic experience.

Finally, after an unknown amount of time that probably spanned several seconds but seemed like- well, nobody could say how long it had seemed since time had lost any kind of significance, it finally died down. And though it still rang in the ears and twitched in the heart after it was gone, the relief of everyone there was great. It took Jessica several moments after the scream had subsided to resume her speech, and though she made an effort to sound as strong as before her voice became uncharacteristically shaky.

"It seems a Wretch has just been born somewhere behind this great wall." She didn't need to yell anymore, since although her voice was barely audible over the music she knew everyone could hear only her voice and nothing else. "And it will soon be placed in a Bad Mother device along with its mother. Unless we do something to stop it."

This unleashed the tumult of emotions that had been harbored by the crowd, and especially by the large group of men that had made their way to the front. They broke the first line of the audience and with unmistakable rage rushed toward the Gardens. The police force that was there to prevent any disorder that could lead to damage of Industry property looked like a cat-trapper called in to restrain a hungry lion. The team of Industry employees that had remained behind the stage until those moments retreated fearfully. But the men weren't after the Industry employees or the Gardens or the policemen. They were in a craze, not knowing where to direct their fueled animosity and frustration, and in the end they found themselves storming the stage and tearing it apart. For several moments Leonardo was worried they might hurt the black masks or even Jessica (if his mother hadn't been gripping his hand and rushing him away, he might've tried to help her) but the assault came to an end without requiring any human sacrifice.

The night that was supposed to be the greatest one in the history of the city and in the lives of many of the people ended in a shocking anticlimax. Leonardo threw his head around and caught one last glimpse of Jessica's weary face before he was swallowed in the sea of people scrambling to the safety of their homes. He felt terrible knowing that Jessica hadn't seen him that night, and he hoped she knew he'd been there the whole time.

Four

4

 

In the weeks that followed the Beauty Wall night seldom could a conversation be heard, a news piece be viewed or even a thought be thought that wasn't somehow related to the momentous events of that night and of the implications it was expected to have. (To say that any implication was expected would be mistaken, as it seemed that everyone expected there to be different implications, but of course most people believed that the implications they were expecting were the ones most likely to be fulfilled). There were developments on several main fronts that set the tone for grouping and side-picking of the people.

First to react to the night's events was the Industry. Wisely and prudently, senior members well-known to the people asserted that they were unfamiliar with the so-called Bad Mother devices and would call an investigation of the matter; that they would personally make sure Wretches were made as comfortable as possible in the Production Camps; and that they were fully respectful of the service the Wretches provided for the people. They promised to meet with The Existents again and see to it that all parties were satisfied, and had already agreed to make considerable compromises in accordance with the people's demands. The Industry was erring on the side of caution, trying to appease the people and constantly evaluating their reactions. More than the people relied on the Industry, the Industry relied on the people.

Among the people the confusion gradually divided them into three distinct groups: a minority that remained loyal to the Existents, the majority that didn't renounce their support but now viewed them suspiciously and judgmentally, and those that turned against them altogether in light of what they called 'The Extistents' extreme, uncultured tactics and their abuse of the power given to them by the people'. Was there really nothing better to fight for in the city than the condition of Wretches?

Then there were the men and women of The Existents, who were standing at the crosshairs of a controversy the magnitude of which couldn't be remembered even by the city's elders. Jessica and the black masks did one thing only since that night: they continued to walk down the same path. They continued to make sporadic claims regarding the reality of the misery of the nonexistents, mainly with an eye for keeping the debate alive and testing the waters toward the next demonstration that was to be held soon. Jessica hadn't been seen since that unforgettable night, and everyone was curious to see how she would respond to the changing circumstances.

Leonardo experienced a frustrating few weeks. Two things troubled him chiefly: that he couldn't understand the connection Jessica had made between compassion, justice and indifference (actually he couldn't really understand either of them by itself), and how so many people had suddenly started to doubt The Existents.

As for justice, well, at one point he thought he'd understood it but then Jessica's speech during the Beauty Wall night sent him back to the chessboard to keep trying to decipher it. As for compassion and indifference, his mother had explained to him that the first meant caring about others while the second meant the opposite.

"Then why did she say that indifference is the enemy of justice?" He'd asked, furrowing his brows at the white queen in front of him.

Hailey thought for a moment and said: "Indifference isn't a good thing. It's the enemy of many things, not only justice."

"But it's the enemy of justice too, right? Jessica said it was the enemy of justice."

"Yes, it is", Hailey said reluctantly.

"Indifference is the enemy of justice", he mumbled to himself and to the black pieces on the board, which, since they were the enemy of the white pieces, had to represent injustice.

Of course nothing in the apartment- it was the same in every house and apartment in the city, in fact- changed for 462. And why should it? Even if everything Jessica had said was true, 462 was just a Wretch and it was there to fulfill its mission. It didn't have anything to do with the so-called Bad Mother devices. There was one time when a funny thought had crossed Leonardo's mind. '462 is alive', he thought, 'it moves and talks to them and it does anything they want, but we give it nothing in return. Could that be an injustice?' He even unwittingly gave voice to this strange thought, but then chuckled at himself and went on with the next formation of the white pieces on the chessboard. His father, who had been alone in the living room at the time, heard but never answered his son's question.

In any case, everything that happened in the city in the following two weeks paled in comparison to The Existents' next demonstration that was scheduled for two weeks exactly after that night. Everyone, regardless of which of the three groups they belonged to, awaited that day. Some wished Jessica would go back on what she'd said before and return to her old popular self, others smelled blood and wished she went further so they could unleash their belligerence. The Industry waited with bated breath, prepared for almost any eventuality. And Leonardo waited to see Jessica again.

When the designated time arrived, the people were infused not by the childish zeal that had gripped them before the Beauty Wall night or even before any of The Existents' other events, but by overbearing tension. Nobody knew just what was going to happen; many didn't even know what they wanted to happen. To Leonardo these questions never came up, since whatever Jessica thought was right was what he thought was right, and whatever she said would be what he wanted her to say. But he did want her to find him this time. And he wanted to understand justice and compassion and indifference.

Thousands of people gathered at the Eastern part of the city's main square. They weren't nearly as many as the masses that had congregated on Beauty Wall night, but it seemed there were even more than in any of The Existents' other previous events. But the number of children had certainly decreased. If Leonardo hadn't known that Francis and Sue were there, he would've thought he was the only boy there.

When Jessica took the stage there was no reaction from the crowd- neither cheering nor calls of disdain. The tension was too intense. Not everyone noticed it-perhaps nobody else did- but the moment he first glimpsed her face Leonardo's heart started racing. He couldn't tell what was different about her, but it was there and it was disheartening. She wasn't the Jessica from before. With no introduction and waiving the usual pleasantries, she came on strong from the very first moment:

"I'm for justice, no matter who it's for or against. We fought together when justice was for us and got what we deserved. Now it's time to open our eyes and look further, where justice is for someone else, and fight for it with the same perseverance. Otherwise we haven't fought for justice but merely for our own selfish interests." At this point Jessica paused, either mustering the courage to continue or simply prolonging this moment before she ventured over the cliff and found out what lay below. It was now clear what was about to follow and it was as inevitable as the rivalry between justice and indifference. But nobody knew what the results of it would be. Leonardo even thought he saw a couple of the black masks shifting their weight from side to side uncomfortably.

And then Jessica went over the edge to the unknown:

"Nonexistents are abused from the moment they are born until the day they are disposed of. They are torn from their mothers at birth, suffer intentionally induced leg injuries- has anyone ever seen a nonexistent without a limp or with two legs of equal length (none such Wretch existed)?- males are castrated so they are more docile, and all youngsters have their nails uprooted to avoid causing accidentally injuring others in the unimaginably crowded conditions they are forced to live and be transported in; they have their spirits broken through brutal training so that their trainers may mold them according to the Industry's requirements, and are then enslaved for the rest of their short lives. Mothers will be forced to breed continuously but will never hold their babies. Babies will know only the pain of the whips and the demeaning voices of their trainers.

"Nonexistents used to be smarter and of higher emotional capacity than they are today. But through artificial selection and genetic modifications no nonexistent today will have a vocabulary of over 500 English words, and their emotional receptiveness is impaired. And Why? Why would there be need to expend resources on impairing the Industry's own products? It's as simple as it is crafty: to make it hard for people to empathize with them. To repel compassion for them and encourage indifference, thereby avoiding justice. Compassion is a complex emotion that can easily escape us; it is tenfold more slippery when directed at someone unintelligent, ugly and emotionally impaired. Just imagine: how much of our repugnance toward the nonexistents in our homes is due to their ugliness, their rankness, their clumsiness? This is all especially true for servants, who on top of this are also the ugliest of all nonexistents and the most odorous ones. Has anyone ever come close enough to their servant and to smell it? They reek. It isn't their natural body odor, but it is conducive to the Industry's purpose. How can you feel compassion for someone who arouses your disgust?"

"Don't worry darling, I still feel compassion for you", Leonardo heard a woman muttering to her husband right in front of him, and though this provoked a considerable deal of laughter Leonardo didn't understand the joke.

Jessica now had to speak through sporadic bellows that were cast upon her from the crowd, mostly those of disrespectful opposition. Some of them were personal and some had to do with her speech. Leonardo wasn't sure if they made him angrier or sadder, but there was nothing he could do to stop their increasing frequency and fieriness.

"Get off the stage!"

"Nobody wants you here anymore!"

"Sellout!"

And a few bad words were thrown at her. But the one that boiled Leonardo's blood hotter than any other was a young woman's shouting: "You're ugly!"

To say of a woman such as Jessica, though some of her onetime grace was no longer, that she was ugly, was a crime. In her current state there was actually something more real, more human, more profound than ever before in her beauty. He couldn't hold himself back and yelled "Shut up!" at the young lady who'd committed this blasphemy, much to the astonishment of his family, all of whom stared at him for a long time.

The increasing opposition did nothing to mitigate Jessica's determination, and she continued without stopping or showing any sign of discouragement or even acknowledgment of the unflattering comments from the crowd. It wasn't about her; it was about the message she was there to send.

"One of the things we fought for until a couple of weeks ago was the frequency of the deaths of servants- expirations, they call them- which forces us to accept new servants every few months. We demanded the Industry review its safety regulations and make an effort to reduce the frequency of the deaths. But it isn't laxness of regulations that is culpable for the deaths- it's the need to stack as many nonexistents as possible into the vehicles that transport them in order to increase the number of nonexistents transported and reduce transport costs. They expire because they are too crowded and are either crushed or suffocated in transport. Their bodies are pushed beyond their limits because they have to make it on time to our homes. You see, we, the people, at the bottom of the pyramid, are the foundation of it all. We are the ones who can call the shots, and we are the ones who will be responsible for the fate of the nonexistents."

These were the final words Jessica said on stage that afternoon, since they immediately sparked such agitation in the crowd that nothing could be heard but the frenzied uproar of a large chunk of the crowd that started moving toward the stage like a small island drifting on the ocean water. It was a recurrence of what had taken place on the Beauty Wall night, but this time on an even greater scale and with far more conspicuous zeal. The thin security force that had secured the narrow buffer zone between the crowd and the stage was powerless to stop the implacable invasion, and an invasion of the stage was inevitable.

Leonardo was scared for Jessica and the black masks, but it was impossible to stop an awkward chuckle from escaping his widely separated jaws. How could the same accident happen twice, and in succession? Someone must've been very indifferent. Jessica tried to let out a few more words but she could barely be heard, and it took the raging mob to force her away from the podium and in line with the black masks at the back of the stage. A young man who seemed to be the leader of the invaders took her place at the podium and declared with the unmistakable pride and conviction of a man who felt victory was at his side:

"Do you want justice? Here is justice! Let us see who these cowards behind the masks!" He had a big nose that flared when he spoke.

And then something that seemed to regale the whole crowd but was absolutely devastating for Leonardo took place: a large woman that had her wide back to the crowd went from one black mask to another and ripped the masks off the faces of the men and women whose faces had until those moments never been seen in public. All The Existents, from the most terrified black mask to the fatigued but unmoved Jessica, forwent the chanceless physical battle that had been expected of them and allowed the large woman to slip off the masks and the young man on stage to say what he wished with no physical resistance.

Everyone in the crowd stared with fascination at the line of anonymous men and women of different shapes and sizes whose identity was now the public property, except for Leonardo who didn't move his expressive eyes with their transparent glow from Jessica. And she did the same. Like her fellow Extremists she kept her gaze locked on the audience, occasionally shifting her eyes from one unknown demonstrator to another, no longer enjoying the certitude that all the nameless faces she was seeing were friendly ones. And then she saw him. Nothing of the havoc that was all around them mattered when their eyes met, and Leonardo even felt that it strengthened their connection.

Yes, he decided, she was certainly more beautiful now than she'd ever been before. It didn’t matter that her smooth blond hair was no longer neatly pulled back and that the glow of power and authority that had once graced her so majestically had left her. Even standing at the back of the stage she was the most important and admirable person there; certainly more than the insolent young man who'd stolen her spot at the podium!

What could she be thinking about him?

Yes, she was probably proud of him for holding his ground the same way she was. Yes, it was on her face, and he thought he might've seen her lips move and telling it to him. He was proud of her too!

Then, quite strangely, at the very same moment Jessica's gentle eyes lifted from Leonardo his father pulled him down from his shoulders. It was as if his father had waited for it to happen, but Leonardo snorted at the very thought of it.

From that evening forward the winds started changing even faster in the city, and this time it was quite a unanimous tendency of people lifting their support from the Existents, which were now accorded the name Extremists. The opposition was expedited still by the Existents' frequent claims of the myriad abuses suffered by the Wretches- of the exploitation and contamination in Recovery Camps, of the prenatal interventions in the birth process, and many more strange and disagreeable allegations. The final straw, which drove many indifferent voices to the opposition and was the most terrifically provocative claim made since the allegation of the existence of Bad Mother devices (which by then had been consigned to oblivion)- was the adamant depiction of Sand Blowers, those mysterious and adulated, almost legendary men and women that kept the wheels of the Industry spinning, as major promoters of injustice. Their jobs, it was claimed, consisted in diving into the darkest corners of people's minds and coming out with constantly adaptive ways of making the horrid injustices caused to the Wretches agreeable by appealing to them. Their jobs, it was determined, was to make people believe it's okay to abuse Wretches.

"What do they mean by 'the darkest corners in people's minds'?" Leonardo asked on the same afternoon in which these last allegations were made while engaged in a chess game with 462, in which he would later come out as the winning side following an 11th hour stratagem that would turn the game around in his favor, of course.

Hailey, who was becoming less tolerant and more concerned by these kinds of questions regarding the Existents' questionable statements, said:

"It means evil thoughts that we try to hide or suppress. So they can only exist in the dark corners of our minds, otherwise we wouldn't be able to accept them."

"Does everyone have these kinds of evil thoughts?"

"Everybody has better side and worse sides", Hailey said hesitantly.

"Do you have a dark corner in your mind?" Leonardo said without taking his eyes off his most important piece- his queen.

Hailey sighed. "Yes, I do. Mommy isn't perfect, honey."

"Do you think it's okay to abuse Wretches?" Leonardo insisted, at the same time making a very sly move that even made 462 throw its head back in surprise.

"That's enough, Leonardo", said Hailey irascibly. "I don't want you listening to those ridiculous broadcasts anymore." She was referring to the occasional television broadcast that voiced the Existents' new releases. It was his favorite thing on TV.

"Why not? Don't you want to hear the truth?" To him, unlike most people, what the Existents had to say was always the undeniable truth.

"Sometimes it's better to leave the truth unspoken. You should know that by now." It was true that part of the treatment of one of the Asperger Syndrome symptoms that manifested most with Leonardo consisted in teaching him to keep his thoughts to himself when they were inappropriate. But his mother had always been the one to advocate teaching him to recognize tactfulness and other people's emotional conditions rather than simply curbing his urges whenever he could- and now she said this? Then, as though unsatisfied by this claim and sensing that it required corroboration, she added:

"The Existents are extremists. They think Wretches are more important than people. Do you think Wretches are more important than people?"

"I'm for justice, no matter who it's for or against", Leonardo recited, feeling chills crawling over his entire body as the image of Jessica, still loved by the people (but none the better for it), flashed in his mind as vividly as though he was there right now, staring at her from the height of his father's shoulders. And a moment after he said this he made another brilliant move- this time due to no obvious blunder by 462 but simply brilliant in and of itself, sacrificing his only remaining bishop to open the black king to a lethal attack- forcing 462 to tip over its black king and resign. It was the first time 462 had ever resigned to him (effectively meaning that it conceded its defeat without actually playing it out on the board since it was convinced that it couldn't stop Leonardo's attack). And after the crowned head of the black king bounced softly with a clank clank of glass hitting glass, the Wretch raised its little eyes and looked at Leonardo with- could it be?- was it joy in its eyes? Did it understand at all the objective of the game? Were Wretches even capable of expressing joy or even of making facial expressions? John tried to study the mysterious face, but 462 quickly lowered its eyes, reverted to its usual, dull and apathetic manner, and put the black pieces back in their places.

Hailey's reprimand was now on the verge of a full-scale upbraiding, her voice having risen up the scale from her usual warble to a shrill screech, but he wasn't listening. He was thinking about the game and the look in 462's eyes and what Jessica would say if she'd been there to see it.

"Is that clear?" His mom bellowed, having left the kitchen and standing at the open space in front of the niche in the wall (to Leonardo's left and 462's right. 462 was standing tensely beside the chair that normally seated the player of the black pieces, its head turned down shamefully).

Leonardo looked at her and said, patiently: "What? I wasn't listening."

Hailey squinted at him with eyes of fire, panting like a lioness ready to pounce, and then spun around and scrambled back to the kitchen without saying a word. Leonardo surely would've burst out in tears if he hadn't been so preoccupied. 462 maintained the same awkward position for the rest of the afternoon until the beeping sound emerged a couple of hours later and sent it on the way back to the Storage Camp.

Hailey's concern from the Existents' effect on her son wasn't unique to her. There was widespread apprehension from their provocations and extremist cause, and this spurred the rise of an opposing group that wished to restore reason, moderation and calmness to the people in those times when the seas were raging and peace was impossible to find. The group called itself, simply, The People, and it was headed by none other than the young man with the big nose who had somewhat symbolically taken the podium while The Existents' last demonstration was being dispersed. Thanks to the group's conciliatory, peaceful and highly agreeable nature it gained immediate popularity among the people. The instability brought about by the Existents' bold and presumptuous actions put not only the Industry on edge, but- even more so- the people as well. They appreciated the comfort and tranquility of their lives, and they had no reason to follow the Extremists' attempts to overthrow them. When the Industry agreed to allow visits to a selected few venues within some of the Storage and Training Camps, The People held a demonstration that denounced anyone who would make such a rash move and exerted continuous pressure on the Industry to revoke its decision. When the Industry agreed to reduce the amount of waste and air polluation that was regularly disposed of in the airtight Recovery Camps (this was a common practice that significantly reduced the air, water and land pollution in the city) in light of The Existents' demand to cease this practice altogether, The People rallied the objection of the people, claiming this was a slippery slope to descend. And so the Industry's concession was reversed, and the disposal of waste and gases into the Storage and Training Camps proceeded as they had before. The People had yet to hold a formal public debut, but one was scheduled for the near future, and the excitement among the people was, naturally, great and on the rise.

At school there was a new trend among many of Leonardo's classmates, primarily the boys. If before about half the boys in class were occasionally seen with black masks on, flaunting their participation in an Extremists demonstration or fantasizing about becoming a black mask, now almost all the boys carried a new and wildly popular accessory: open masks. These were black pieces of fabric that were fitted over the head like a mask but left the face exposed. They were symbolic, of course, of the black masks, all of whose identities had been exposed by the big lady with the wide back. Leonardo was infuriated anew every time he saw these masks and pictured those moments of evilness when they'd been exposed, but he was afraid to show it. There was no way he could expressly stand up to a group of unfriendly classmates, but inside he could do anything he wanted to.

'I have to be like Jessica and let them do whatever they want- or at least let them think they can do whatever they want. We're going to win in the end!' He would think to himself and smile absentmindedly. He was often ridiculed for this eerie behavior, but he didn't care. Once Mrs. Jones, his homeroom teacher who liked him more than she did all the other kids in class (he never understood why it was so), saw him doing this she called him for one of their little one-on-one chats that they liked to have every now and then. She sat next to him on a small chair that the kids usually sat on and not on her special teacher's chair that she used during class.

"Why were you smiling when the other kids had the open masks on?" She wondered with a little smile, slowly and in an especially high-pitched tone. She was always extremely pleasant when she spoke with him, and he knew it was because of his condition but didn't really understand the reason for it.

"Because I know that in the end justice will prevail!" Leonardo exclaimed with the same smug smile on his face that he had when the other kids had been making fun of him. This wasn't a phrase he'd heard Jessica use but something he'd come up with himself.

"You mean you like-"

"The Existents!"

"But you know they've hurt many people. Don't you think The people are more helpful? And more realistic? A lot of people think they're really great."

"I'm for justice, no matter who it's for or against." It was at least the third time he'd repeated this phrase, and each time he did it with more conviction than in the previous one. It was strange that he was much more convinced in the appropriateness and worth of this phrase than in the meaning of its key word- justice. Leonardo knew that whatever he said would eventually get to his mother's ears (Mrs. Jones and Hailey were on terrific terms, and Hailey was updated frequently on Leonardo's condition in class) and that she wouldn't like to hear him say this, but there was no way he could stop it from coming out. The conversation broke off here but didn't finish until later that day, when Hailey warned her son against continuing to alienate (she didn't hesitate to use this word, which he was completely familiar with) himself from the others. She never referred directly to his support of The Existents, but by now he already knew she didn't like them.

"Maybe we should get an open mask", she suggested with feigned casualty.

"No! I will never wear that abomination!" Leonardo clamored, and he scurried over to the chess board, scowling at the black king and almost carrying out the urge that took over him to smash it on the ground.

Next Hailey made a call to Dr. Linda Alberts. Dr. Alberts specialized in the clinical aspects of autistic disorders in children, and had been treating Leonardo for the past three years. She was also on great terms with Hailey and was always ready to consult and advise even outside designated therapy sessions (which Leonardo rarely attended). It was an evening hour, later than the time Hailey normally felt comfortable calling Dr. Alberts, but she was currently in a state of panic or at least of urgency, and she couldn't wait. The provisional diagnosis she received on the phone encouraged her in a way. It was nothing Hailey hadn't encountered before in her work, but hearing it from a specialized third party was greatly reassuring.

It was a common reaction among children who sensed that they didn't fit in with their environment- more so among children with emotional disorders such as Asperger Syndrome, but not exclusive to them- to embrace their isolation by attaching to some heretic opinion or position. This gave them the comfort of belonging to some group somewhere while 'justifying' their isolation from those around them, which was the group they were 'supposed' to belong to. In Leonardo's case (Dr. Alberts offered this as a possible cause for his behavior, but Hailey clutched to it at once and determined that it had to be the reason for his adamancy), professing his support of The Existents while everyone else around him opposed them spared him the need to ingratiate himself with others. It made him feel special, not rejected, and belong to a group of people that accepted him unconditionally- The Existents would surely appreciate any support they could get in those dire times, and he knew it. It might not be an easy task releasing him from this fixation, Dr. Alberts clarified, but to Hailey it was a great relief, a far preferable possibility than to have a child at home who sincerely believed in The Existents' extreme cause. Then, as a token of her apology to him, she bought her own black mask and paraded it around the house to the sound of Leonardo's pure, elated, incredibly childish laugh that rolled around the walls of the apartment like a ball rolls downhill, seeming like it could go on forever and filling the apartment with such joy that even 462 had a moment of levity before sinking back into its usual bleak solitude.

To The Peopole's cause came the aid (which they weren't much in need of in light of their tremendous popularity- almost consensus- among the people) of an unexpected nature: the court of justice. The city's prosecution had accused John Samskin, a 40-year-old man of 'expiring with his bare hands' (in other words, beating to death) the Wretch that had been serving the household- Samskin, his wife and their two children. The law stipulated that intentionally bringing about the immediate expiration of Wretches without cause was an offense punishable by up to three years in prison (whereas if the Wretch stayed alive for a day or more after the beating, it wasn't considered an offense). The motive behind this stipulation wasn't to protect Wretches but the belief that someone who is without reason violent toward a Wretch may one day turn his violence against a fellow person. However, the Judge in a ruling that won him great acclaim from both the public and the press, decided in favor of the defendant for two alternative reasons. First, Samskin had made it clear that his being violent toward the Wretch was uncommon, and in this particular occasion was the result of unbearable anger that had been building up inside him at work. Instead of taking it out on his employees or on his family, he'd taken it out on the Wretch; therefore the beating wasn't without reason. Second, the Judge questioned the assumption that violence toward a servant Wretch was in any way translatable to future violence against people. Wretches are property, and 'violence against property' was actually not at all violence per se but vandalism. Vandalism against private property- Wretches were the property of the Industry- wasn't a criminal offence and the public prosecutor had no business bringing it to court. There was no room, the Judge stated, to make any correlation between vandalism against Wretches and violence against people. On the contrary- the defendant had beaten the Wretch in order to avoid any possibility of being violent to the people around him. Mr. Samskin was cleared to the great satisfaction of everyone really- even the prosecutor seemed to bear her defeat with stoicism rarely witnessed in a courtroom. The Industry, which the Judge stated was at liberty to demand reparations from Mr. Samskin for the value of the expired Wretch, didn't do so. Not only was the production price of a Wretch lower than ten minutes' legal consulting, but the Industry gladly acquiesced to The People's request to join ranks and do what was best for the people of the city. Mr. Samskin was lionized as a symbol of common sense, well-ordered priorities and non-violence. In return for the loss of the servant and in reward for his patience and forbearance, he was given not one but two servants to replace the one that had expired.

Soon The People were sufficiently structured and enjoyed such great support, both financially and emotionally, from the people that they began to address every new claim made by the deteriorating Existents. More often than not, addressing simply meant refuting their truthfulness.

'They are withheld any kind of education beyond the scope of what is necessary for their designated service so they don't understand and unite against the injustice they are subjected to, and will not one day revolt and demand their freedom', The Extremists claimed.

'Wretches are inferior beings, to educate them would be a senseless waste of time. They neither want it nor need it. They are provided high-quality training at the expense of the Industry and should be grateful for it. Freedom? Wretches need the guidance of the Industry to fulfill their missions. Serving the people is their ultimate freedom', ran The People's rebuttal. This was corroborated by the Industry's most reputable trainers.

'They are castrated at birth so they are easier to handle. It is as painful to them as it would be to any person', alleged The Extremists.

'Castration is beneficial for the Wretches' health. It is done quickly and efficiently, and anyway they aren't humans, they can hardly feel pain at all', The People negated uncompromisingly. To support this stand The People set up a live interview with none other than Dr. Joshua Styles, the family's amiable next door neighbor on primetime television. It was a hit.

'Wretches involved in food production are actually tortured so they produce a hormone that softens their flesh, and then are killed and sold as food products.'

'Eating Wretches is very healthy and critical for the healthy development of your children', said a well known doctor that following this statement started spending a lot of time in the company of the Industry's Sand Blowers.

'Industry does everything in its power to avoid people connecting with Wretches and understanding their misery. Servants are transported into the city in early morning and leave after night fall; Industry tenaciously holds onto its ownership of them; they are intentionally made ugly, stinky and awkward; and even the fur around their eyes which used to be thin, is thickened so we can barely see their eyes. That's also why the walls of the Camps are so thick and tall. If the isolation is broken, the Industry will fall.'

'Industry does everything in its power to protect the people from the Wretches and spare them from having to go through the discomfort of caring for them. Their fur is thickened to protect their eyes from the sun.'

'Wretches that are no longer functional are gassed to death and buried in the ground.'

'When they finish their service they are so tired that they want to rest forever and a proper burial'. And so on.

Somehow in these ping-pong games The People always won. Winning meant to sway the people's opinion in one's direction, and the people's opinion always favored The People.

To be seen with a black mask on in public had become an act of social suicide.

Five

5

 

There was only one strike delivered by The Existents- a secret weapon that had been saved for desperate times- which a factual contradiction by The People wasn't sufficient to bury. It was a stealthy operation conducted by The Existents, in which a young nonexistent had been extracted from the Training Camp and hidden somewhere in the city. Before its absence was noticed and searches commenced, a short video was shot in which the nonexistent, its faced turned to the camera at all times so it couldn't be recognized by the number on its back, was asked five simple questions and gave five simple answers.

"Your name- the number on your back- how did you get it?"Asked a black mask with a woman's voice. It was common knowledge that Wretches were born with the numbers on their backs.

"Someone with something very hot burned it on me", the nonexistent said in the broken, influent manner that nonexistents always spoke. It's eyes didn't meet the camera but alternated between short glimpses at the black mask and long brooding stares downward.

"How did it feel?" The black mask asked softly.

"Very bad. Very very very very bad." Wretches typically commanded a very narrow variety of adjectives, and so adding very to the adjectives they did know was the only way they could express an increase in its degree.

"Did you try to escape?"

"You Can't escape. If you try they catch you and do it harder and slower."

"If you caught the person who did this to you, would you do it back to him?" The black mask said, now almost in a whisper, and her voice trembled.

"Yes!" The nonexistent blurted out wrathfully. Then it did something with its eyes- one couldn't make out through the camera the movement in the hardly visible eyes- and muttered a low "No. Never."

This astounding, outrageous, provocative, fabricated, disgusting video (it had been characterized as all of the above and more) had of course been banned from all mainstream media channels, but was easily accessible online. Leonardo had managed to curb his urge to tell his mom of his intention to watch it, anticipating her response, and did so stealthily in his bedroom before going to bed. There were so many questions floating around in his head and so much sorrow in his heart that he barely slept that night. But there was also a new feeling that started growing inside him, which had crept up on him without warning: disbelief. Disbelief in what exactly- the truthfulness of the video, the Wretch, its answers, or the drama of it all, he wasn't sure, but he felt disbelief. In the end he fell asleep and had a dream (he tended to have vivid memories of many of his dreams) that he was in a large dark place with a Wretch that had no number, and he had to choose between burning the Wretch and having his own back burned.

The People reacted to this video- this new weapon in the battlefield- on several fronts. First they questioned its authenticity and called for The Existents to come out in the open and let the people test it. Then they denounced the act of thievery and prompted Industry owners to file an official complaint with the police and request to have the stolen property retrieved (nobody in the Industry had intended to do so but there was no point in contradicting The People). Next they launched a series of accumulative arguments, each of which further stultified The Existents' already feeble claims. It was time for The People's first formal public event.

It happened on a cloudy, windy afternoon in which neither sun nor warmth were part of the kingdom of the people. Everybody was in a state of belligerence that didn't feel like belligerence but like healthy enthusiasm, like an army prepared to deliver a death blow to a debilitated enemy. In the apartment this was also at least partly the case: Fred's eyes had been alight for days and he was armed with his open mask, Hailey was quite excited herself and overtly hopeful that the zeal of the crowd would sweep Leonardo away as well. Steve was impassive as usual, though Leonardo thought he detected occasional signs of nervousness in his father's rarely nervous face. Leonardo didn't know what to feel. He could never betray Jessica, but there was a part of him that wished to be convinced and blown away by The People. It was this confusion along with the feeling that his father was constantly testing him at the chessboard (which had nothing to do with The People or The Existents or justice) that always brought his game to far below par when playing against him. This time was no exception, and Steve blurted out irritably: "What's the point of you playing that Wretch all the time?" And he marched away from the table. It took an inhuman effort from Leonardo to stop the tears from flowing, the source of resistance being the alternating images of Jessica and of the man with the big nose.

The family hadn't entered the elevator when Leonardo's spirits were even further dampened by the arrival of Dr. Joshua, Father Lockworth and their wives. There was no need to state the obvious, as there wasn’t the shadow of a doubt anywhere in the hallway that all were headed to the Eastern part of the city square.

"Hello, father. Dr. Joshua, we saw you on television a few days back. All of us. Very impressive. Really, very impressive!" Hailey greeted, and Steve shook the hands first of the building's new celebrity figure and his wife, then of the man who used to be the most awed and revered in the building (and had now fallen from grace to number two after the Doctor) and his wife. It was so obvious what the topic of discussion would be that the boys weren't given their fair share of attention before the grownups started talking seriously.

"Oh, it was nothing. Just doing my job", Dr. Joshua said with a smug smile and a healthy ruddiness that was deeper than usual. His wife, much like father Lockworth's, was very ordinary in her appearance, and was so deferential to her husband that her voice was rarely heard in these chance neighbor meetings. Leonardo didn't even know her name (assuming she had one other than 'Dr. Joshua's wife'). Dr. Joshua inevitably continued:

"But really, this whole thing is crazy. I used to like those Existents, especially the girl- she was great. But they crossed the line, probably got drunk with power. And the thing with that Wretch they stole- that was awful. It's cruel to even ask somebody to watch it. Awful."

Yes, Leonardo thought, it was awful. Maybe he shouldn't have watched it. What good did it do?

"It doesn't matter. It's going to be over soon", Fred chimed in. He had those moments when he'd suddenly join a grownup's conversation, and it usually turned out quite well. Leonardo hoped sometimes that he could do it too one day.

"Yes, hopefully after tonight things will be back in order", Hailey said.

"Praise the Lord, they will", Father Lockworth added. Then: "this farce has gone on long enough. The land and everything on it has been given to us not by some boys in masks or the Industry but by Him. To suggest anything to the contrary borders on blasphemy. Of course we mustn't needlessly abuse them since they, too, are His creations."

Leonardo frowned at the sound of this, not because of his dislike for the Father (which had abated considerably, since he felt grateful to anyone who made it easier for him to lean toward The People) but due to his foiled attempts to comprehend its meaning.

Needless abuse. Did there ever exist any kind of abuse that wasn't needless?

"Are you guys having a hard time at work because of this whole thing?" Hailey wondered of Dr. Joshua. He was the family's only direct link to the inner workings of the Industry.

Dr. Joshua emitted a meek nondescript noise that implied uncertainty. "In the beginning yea, I guess. Things were pretty hectic around two-three weeks ago. But actually, The People have been a great help. At it nonstop. It's like they've been protecting our interests more than we have." He laughed as any man whose work has been done for him is bound to do, but with affection that invited everybody to partake in his pleasure rather than envy his unfair advantage.

"You know, for us it’s about doing our jobs, but for them it's like they're fighting for some kind of ideology. Like they're fighting for their lives, almost", he continued. Everyone seemed to be made a little uncomfortable by this and nothing more was said until the families parted and made their separate ways to the event. Leonardo felt this discomfort as well, though he wasn't sure why it was there, and he was glad that even in the car on the way to the square there were no more discussions about The People.

At the demonstration there was the same invigorating density of people backing the same cause, the same sense of unity and power and the same intoxicating revelry that had characterized the first demonstrations of The Existents. It wasn't as hot due to the hermetic protection from the sun provided by the clouds, and the air wasn't as stifling thanks to the fresh, constantly blowing gusts that seemed yearning to take part in the event as well; the force that had brought the thousands together and the one that would determine the intensity of the experience they were about to have and their emotional immersion in it (these were two separate forces) were stronger and fierier, but not as pure as back in the days of The Existents.

They were stronger and fierier since the people weren't fighting against a long time practice that was suddenly found to have been reducing the quality of their already pleasurable lives, but against an attempt to bring a new factor into the equation which would capsize the boat and throw them into the cold water. But they weren't as pure since the cause being fought for wasn't as noble as the one The Existents had introduced. Even The People knew this.

Leonardo was still confused, but the energy of the scene, which climaxed when the young man with the big nose took the stage, brought him one step closer to where he thought he wanted to be. More than having been brought together to fight for a common cause, the people were there to fight against those who opposed the cause. More than wanting to fight for the peace in their lives, the people had been gathered to fight against those who were trying to put that peace in question. And as much as he hated it, Leonardo could feel the same thing happen inside him. Slowly he came to accept the fact that he wanted to be there with everybody else because he didn't want to see or hear any more of what The Existents had to say. He didn't want to believe them.

"Ladies and Gentlemen", blared the powerful voice of the man with the big nose through the microphone. He was dressed very casually with a black T-shirt and a pair of jeans over solid black shoes. He was short and muscular, with a wide square face and eyes that looked at the crowd so intensely that they seemed never to blink.

"We are here to restore peace to this city. We are here to restore stability and moderation in the face of the vile attempts of some misguided radicals to instigate panic and delude us into believing in their own wild fantasies. We are here to fight for justice!" With this last sentence, an obvious parody on Jessica's slogans (which now seemed as ridiculous as they had once been inspiring), the final annihilation of The Extistents had begun.

The man with the big nose was very well organized and was clearly part of a large, structured, powerful body. He didn't gain the crowd's sympathy or admiration, or even inspire it in unexpected ways the way Jessica had used to do, but he had an equally effective method at his disposal: he rallied the crowd's belligerence and antagonism toward their common enemy and what it represented and let these most anachronistic human emotions multiply itself. Leonardo felt this happening to him as well, and though he didn’t like the feeling- this unclean feeling, he thought- germinating inside him, he was powerless to fight it. Or did he simply not wish to? At some point another thought slithered into his mind (which wasn't as blank and undivided as it used to be whenever Jessica was on stage): The Existents had lost. There was no need for The People to be so pugnacious and persistent anymore since they had already won. But there was something- some fear of what The Existents represented- that kept them going at full throttle, and kept the people ever zealous and willing to expend great efforts for it. And he already knew that that fear was present inside him as well. He wasn't sure if the fact that he shared it with so many others was good or bad.

It was good.

He also wasn't sure if he liked the fact that the stage on which the man with the big nose was standing was a lot bigger, more imposing and much more nicely decorated than the bare stages Jessica and the masks used to stand on. But it didn't matter anymore, since he didn't want to think about The Existents anymore. He wasn't like the others, who wanted to crush them into thin dust, but the infectious antagonism drained every last drop of sympathy he'd had for them.

The first order of business on the schedule of the man with the big nose, who was alone on stage, was once again to refute everything The Existents had claimed. To this end a Wretch was ushered onto the stage by the large woman with the wide back (which many of the audience recognized from her unmasking the black masks, which now won her a great wave of applause). This Wretch, unlike the one The Existents had presented in their provocative video, hadn't been stolen and had been brought to the demonstration with the full support of the Industry. The number on its back didn't have to be hidden since The People had nothing to hide, and its interviewer- the man at the podium- had no need for a black mask in which to wrap his square face since there was nothing he couldn't reveal either. And the Wretch- compared to the anonymous one The Existents had smuggled, this one was strong, healthy, clean; it looked almost happy (if at all such an emotion could be attributed to Wretches). The contrast was glaring: this wasn't an illegal, stealthy, shady underground provocation but a proud, transparent, legitimate establishment of a fact that everyone accepted (or at least they wanted to).

"What's your name?" The man with the big nose asked with firm authority but with no audible disdain.

"My name is 463."

Leonardo's eyes widened. For some reason the fact that this Wretch's number was successive to 462's intrigued him.

"How did you get your name?"

"It was painted on me when I was little", 463 said bleakly, the way all Wretches always sounded when they spoke. Leonardo found it strange that this creature looked so much better than all other Wretches he'd seen but sounded no different. This was a bad thing, of course, since Wretches sounded terrible.

"Where do you live?" The man asked. Leonardo chuckled; it was funny to hear somebody ask a Wretch where it lived. Wretches didn't really live anywhere- rather they were only kept or stored somewhere.

"In a Storage Camp. Close to the great wall."

"Are you treated well?"

"Yes", mumbled 463.

"Is there anything you'd like to say to the people here?"

"Yes." The Wretch turned to face the audience, forced upon its furry face an expression that might've been something like a smile (Wretches never smiled; it was assumed they were incapable of it), and said:

"Thank you for your kind treatment. I hope we can keep serving you for a long time. Thank you." There was something affected about 463's performance that made it obvious it'd been prepared for the occasion. It's grammar was too clean, its pronunciation too clear. The pauses between its sentences were methodical and its words were spoken in a steady beat. It wasn't natural, not even for a Wretch (which typically sounded robotic), but it didn't matter. The people got what they were hoping for: a foundation on which to hinge their argument against the truthfulness of the claims of The Existents (and of any negative feelings that might arise in them as a result of these claims). And so as 463 clumsily went off the stage the crowd cheered enthusiastically and with a certainty in its own righteousness.

Next on the agenda were the alternative arguments that showed why, beyond any shadow of doubt, the current situation was justifiable and any claim to the contrary was untenable. The People (and, gladly following in their tracks, the people) claimed intransigently that The Existents' claims were preposterous, and then they went on to argue that, even if they were to concede that these claims were in fact authentic, this was no reason for panic.

There was history. "Wretches have been used to serve the people of this city since its founding forefathers first laid foot here. To renounce this heritage and call it cruel would be an act of sacrilege!" Of course, that Wretches were so used since the beginning of time was one theory of several, but it was the most suitable one for the purpose at the moment and hence the right one in the eyes of the people.

There was religion. "The Lord Himself has said to us: 'have dominion over every living thing that moves on the earth.' Were they not meant to fulfill our needs, then? Even more; He has commanded us to instill fear in them: 'The fear of you and the dread of you shall be upon everything that creeps on the ground. Into your hand they are delivered!' In a matter of moments, a secular and largely atheist city became filled awe for The Lord Almighty.

There were the laws of nature. "In the course of evolution we have surpassed them. We are stronger, smarter, superior. We would be foolish to countermand the law of survival of the fittest, which has brought us to where we are today. 'Always before God and the world the strongest has the right to carry through what he wills.' And to say that we are cruel? 'I don't see why man shouldn't be just as cruel as nature.' In nature Wretches would starve, be eaten alive, be subject to catastrophic weather conditions. We give them shelter, food, protection, a mission in life. If anything, we are more merciful than nature itself. That' ladies and gentlemen, is my idea of justice!" Yes, it was true! The people had the right to be as cruel as nature, but even so they were being more merciful.

Finally, like a boxer delivering a knockout to a staggering opponent, the man declared: "Many of you may not remember that one of the demands made by our opponents, The Existents, before their real agenda was revealed was complete transparency and public access to Protocols of all monthly sessions of Storage Camp Safety Committees that regulate, among other things, safety conditions in servant transport. Today there is complete transparency of these protocols, but the Committees no longer handle the issue of servant transport! The Industry has stultified the efforts of The Existents, so that even in that aspect our opponents have failed. But from here on out this will no longer be the case, and the Industry will ensure that our interest in the safety of our servants will be taken care of." With a little sideways motion of his head the man with the big nose exchanged glances with someone beside the stage- evidently a senior member of Industry- who nodded deferentially and accepted this dictation. The crowd roared again.

This would've been the beginning of the end of the demonstration, which by then had already confirmed and reinforced the people's total and unreserved belief in the cause of The People, had not a prominent figure been spotted in the crowd and ushered onto the stage with an unknown measure of coercion.

"Ladies and gentlemen", the man with the big nose said with utter joy. "It seems we have the honor of being graced with the presence of a very, very important and unexpected guest."

Oh's and Aw's escaped the mouths of the people at the front, who were first to recognize the star guest. The reaction was infectious, and soon the whole of the audience was emitting meaningless isolated syllables, not knowing how else to handle the uncanny turn of events.

But who was it up there? Leonardo couldn't make out the features of the consecrated figure, which was now making its way toward the center of the stage, accompanied by the woman with the wide shoulders, toward the podium. She was also a woman, but much smaller and more delicate than the one accompanying her. But Leonardo hadn't a clue.

"Who is it? Who is it?" He blurted out, looking right at Hailey and Fred, then left at his father, but they were all too shocked to take notice of him. Then his father took his hand and sat him on his shoulders (which he hadn't done until then, though Leonardo had had no easy time finding a line of sight to the stage through the mesh of people in front of them). Enjoying this new vantage point, he reevaluated the figure on stage, walking slowly toward the man with the big nose. She had her side turned to the podium and not to the audience, so Leonardo still couldn't tell who it was. Why couldn't they just tell him?

A moment later she turned and faced the crowd, and Leonardo's jaw dropped (he seemed to be the only one in the audience who hadn't recognized her until then). But- could it be? On the one hand it couldn't be her, on the other it could be no one else.

Jessica was a ghost of her former self. Leonardo couldn't even bring himself to study the little differences that, when joined together, comprised an incredible transformation. He could only perceive the overall image, which all at once made him sickened by his complete abandonment of this woman. She looked weak, exhausted, deflated, almost lifeless.

"What do you think about your justice now, Jessica?" The man at the podium asked to the great amusement of his audience. It was no secret that following the release of the video with the stolen Wretch, all known black masks had been interrogated and arrested for complicity in the unsolved case. Jessica was alone now.

Not being offered a microphone, she had to yell to be heard by the crowd (which was why she was there). "There is a higher court than courts of justice and that is the court of conscience. It supersedes all other courts.'"

A few caustic remarks were flung at her from the crowd, but she didn't acknowledge them.

"Yes, conscience. The conscience to love people, to desire their wellbeing and extend their goodness to one another. To love our children more than the miserable creatures that have no conscience. That is what the court of conscience dictates!" The man with the big nose said, and his nose flared to the sound of the burst of ravenous cried of support from the crowd.

"What happens to our children and to them is the same. They have the same breath", Jessica hollered, her scraggly hair restless as though frightened by the intensity of her voice. Then she looked up to the cloudy sky and screamed in what seemed to deplete her lungs of its last resources: "His mercy is over all that he has made." When she looked back down at the crowd, no longer with the satisfaction of someone bathed in adoration but as an innocent defendant declaring her rightfulness before her ruthless accusers, they were different. And even before her eyes met Leonardo's (which they did, taking him by surprise) the air suddenly refused to enter his lungs. He tried to breathe in, but there was nothing to make his lungs expand. This woman on stage wasn't just a radical fallen from grace. In spite of the acute opposition around her, the unquestionable defeat her cause had suffered, and the obvious emotional turbulence she was in, she was still charged with something that set her apart now from the man with the big nose and all of his followers just as it had then. And it made her still beautiful in a way that suddenly struck Leonardo as obvious. She was beautiful, perhaps now more than ever before because of the plight she was in and the unfavorable chain of events that had transpired, and not despite them. The thing that made her beautiful still and set her eyes aglow, despite her physical deterioration in every other aspect, was that unwavering belief in something she knew to be far greater than she; something made all the more significant since she could derive no personal benefit from it. Its significance to her lay in the fact that someone else would derive a great benefit if she were to prevail and perhaps never be able to thank her for it.

Not the man with the big nose, not the woman with the wide back and not any of the thousands of supporters could diminish the halo - was it nobility? Martyrdom? Clairvoyance? Or maybe just dull, simple tenacity- that seemed to glow from her. Through the force of this halo she continued to challenge the man with the big nose with a final test:

"Why is their justice any different to ours?" She demanded. She no longer had to yell now that she had the attention and not the derision of the crowd (or at least not outspoken derision), but she didn't lower her voice from before. "Because they are hairy? Because they're ugly? Because they smell? Because they limp? Or is it because of their size, their limited vocabulary, their bleakness, their sharp nails or their strange eyes? Or because they are weaker than we are? Which of these things makes them less worthy of being done justice?"

Leonardo felt every one of Jessica's words sting him inside. They made it so difficult to turn his back on her.

Everyone was waiting for the man with the big nose to respond. This was the height of the face-off between them, the height of the demonstration and perhaps the height of any action done by The People. And like a true leader, the man with the big nose rose to the occasion when the time was most critical. His nose flared wider than ever before; wider than Leonardo had ever seen a nose flare before, and he said five words that secured forever the victory of The People in the pages of history of the city and the perpetual servitude of the Wretches:

"Because they are not us."

This sufficed for the crowd, and it sufficed for Leonardo. Justice belonged to The People and the people.

Six

6

 

Things became simpler after The People's formal inauguration. It was surprising, in fact, how easy it was to live out their principles, which the people were so eager to accept. Habits that had once been practiced frequently but not invariably had become unwritten rules that if anyone broke they would be considered strange and unreasonable, and maybe even unjust. And now that it was firmly established that justice was such a great thing (belonging to the people, it accommodated them quite well), and that being just and being reasonable went hand in hand, to be considered unreasonable or unjust was quite deterring and very undesirable.

These unwritten rules generally revolved around the interface between people and Wretches. The demarcation that separated one from the other was clearer than ever before, as was the line between the just and the unjust. People didn't speak to Wretches when doing so wasn't absolutely necessary; they didn't look at them; they didn't offer them food or drink; they forbade them making any unnecessary sounds; they didn't befriend them (if one could ever befriend such an inferior being); and they didn't accord them any respect. And the two newest rules: people didn't speak or think about Wretches. Nobody could be heard mentioning Wretches or referring to them in any way, and thinking about them was considered a sign of weakness that any man with self-respect would strive to avoid. The Wretches were there to serve the people- this was a fact that need not be dwelt upon. Why complicate what is simple and obvious? Why risk being embroiled into senseless confusion again by some heretic instigators such as had happened with The Existents?

In fact, justice wasn't that clouded, divine thing that required a great deal of compromise and sacrifice which some had claimed it to be. It wasn't the evasive value that was to be tracked down and followed persistently. It was a great thing that was always at the people's disposal and was the shortest and easiest route to happiness and prosperity.

These rules were gladly followed by the family without exception. And nothing was detracted from this by what Dr. Joshua, who had been promoted to chief advisor to the Industry (nobody knew what this meant) two days after The People's demonstration said in the hallway on the same day of his promotion.

"Everything The Existents have said is true. Everything. But who wants to listen to someone that only tells the truth?"

And everybody laughed carelessly. Everybody, including the boy who never lied.

Several weeks of this peaceful bliss had gone by in the city and in the family's apartment, when Leonardo was attacked unawares by another cause for confusion. It happened during a very mundane activity that had little to do with anything as simple as justice or Wretches, but it struck him the moment it happened and it struck hard. He was playing chess with his father, thoroughly concentrated on the game for a change, when suddenly, from out of the blue, an astounding thing happened: he won!

His victory was sudden and astounding not according to the proceedings of the game, which he had dominated from the start, but in the realization that he actually succeeded in doing something he'd never done before and defeated a player he thought far superior to himself. Steve, it appeared, was not only more surprised by the occasion but more thrilled than Leonardo by the result of the match. Leonardo found it quite ironic that the first time his father had ever seemed to truly enjoy a chess game between the two was the only time he'd lost. He'd beaten Leonardo so many times in the past and had been so indifferent, sometimes even disappointed or angry, and now when he'd lost he was beaming! If Leonardo weren't so taken aback he would've laughed unstoppably. But something came to his mind, some mysterious and fascinating thought that engrossed him to the point where even his father's rare words of accolade were drowned out like some insignificant background noise.

He'd beaten his father justly, without the help of luck or some unexpected blunder or unusual circumstances. He'd simply played a better game of chess. This meant that he was a much better player than he thought he was, and certainly much better than he'd been a few months earlier. And the only possible logical explanation to his improvement was his frequent matches against 462. Then, for their matches to have such a significant positive effect on him must mean that 462 wasn't the kind of terrible player that always- always- made a fatal blunder that gifted his opponent victory.

In this intense burst of clairvoyance Leonardo realized that something in this sequence didn't add up. A chill shook his entire little body, and his heart pounded as he contrived the following day's venturous- almost dangerous- stratagem to make sense of this puzzle.

He came out of his reverie to hear his father still exclaiming excitedly: "How did you do that? You played wonderfully! I had no idea…"

Then, to Hailey: "Come here, honey! Look at this! He was amazing!"

And now Leonardo began to laugh, letting out a mix of joy for making his father so happy and curious anticipation for the discoveries that tomorrow would bring. He laughed and he didn't stop.

Nothing remained in his memory from the time between that moment his laughter had finally died down and the next afternoon when he came out of the opening of his game against 462- there was no way to change it- down two pawns and in a position so passive that his glorious white queen had no one at her side but black enemies watching her closely, like Jessica on The People's stage. He put his everything into that game from the very first move; he never let his thoughts wander and he checked and rechecked every move before making it. He looked three and four moves ahead before touching any of his pieces- it was more than he'd ever done before, even in his last game against his father- and tried to calculate every reasonable outcome. And he felt that he was playing well, never detecting a mistake or a weak move that ought to have been replaced by another. And still he was in a significant disadvantage. It couldn't be doubted: 462 was the better chess player of the two.

So Leonardo waited. He continued to play the best game he was capable of and waited for that moment- that moment when he would be given the opportunity to undo everything 462 had achieved in the game and snatch the victory. He was patient, employing wisdom that far surpassed that of a 9-year-old's to suppress his burning anticipation and maintain the (insufficient) level of his game. His condition continued to deteriorate, and he continued to fight, to slowly get back into the game, but his opponent was simply too strong.

And then it came. In a seemingly reckless and obvious blunder, 462 opened his 8th row, where his king was standing behind the untouched three-pawn castle formation that was supposed to protect it but at the same time posed a risk of becoming a death trap, to Leonardo's white A-file rook. All that was needed was for Leonardo to move his rook down the A-file, from the down-left corner of the board to the up-left corner, and the game would be over. This was what he'd been waiting for. He slowly, thoughtfully, pressed his right hand thumb, index finger and middle finger around the cold glass castle at the top of the rook like a three-headed vice, lifted it and carried it forward. It seemed to weigh as much as a thousand rooks combined, and his arm trembled as it hovered over the board. And he put it down heavily- not on the 8th row, where it would've checkmated the black king and afforded the white side a 'surprise' victory, but in the middle of the A-file, where it made contact with its brother rook, protecting it from the harassment of the black queen (a productive move in and of itself). The vice was lifted from the rook's castle and Leonardo retracted his hand. And he looked at his opponent.

For a few seconds 462's eyes roamed the board far too quickly for it to be appraising Leonardo's move or calculating its next one. (Leonardo had learned to follow 462's eyes from across the board even under the bushy hair that engulfed it). It was surprised, not by the brilliant defensive move that denied the black queen its craved victim but by the fact that the white hadn't taken the opportunity to win the game. After all, in the context of the white rook under threat, it was obvious that the white would defend it, ideally with the other rook; there was nothing surprising about Leonardo's move in that aspect.

Here was the crucial moment. For a player as skilled as 462 to truly not have noticed the threat on its king in the first place was highly unlikely. For it to ignore the potentially deadly plight of its king for the second consecutive move would be impossible and therefore necessarily premeditated. There were ten different ways for it to prevent the obvious peril to its kind without conceding its positional and material advantage, and it could likely spot all ten in a matter of seconds.

The queen could return to the 8th row; the H- and G- file pawns could step ahead and provide their king an easy escape route; the white-squared bishop could position itself so that it could block the white rook's potential death-threat; and both the other bishop and the black knight could quite comfortable block the A-file and deprive the white rook its chance at glory, but 462 chose none of these. Instead, it advanced its B-file pawn two squares ahead so it threatened to capture the white rook. It was almost daring the white rook to move forward and mate the black king!

It was indubitable.

"Why are you doing this?" Leonardo whispered to his opponent, and he looked around him though he knew there was nobody in the kitchen or the living room. They were alone there, but what he was about to undertake, speaking to a Wretch, felt so inappropriate- it felt indecent, despicable, bordering on illegality- that he had to make sure.

"I'm sorry. I don't understand", his opponent replied, keeping its eyes on the board.

"I know that you're letting me win", Leonardo said accusingly, his voice rising in volume and startling him as though he had no control of it.

The Wretch nodded reluctantly, apparently terribly averse to confessing its ruse but unable to lie.

"Why?"

"You're playing very, very well. You deserve to win." 462's eyes ever never left the glass board, and its voice never rose from its pit of despondency.

"But- you're better", Leonardo said, no longer reprehensive but feeling grateful instead.

"But I'm just a Wretch."

Leonardo trembled all over at the sound of these inexplicably terrible words. And although there was no reason for him to take it to heart, since he knew full well that 'Wretches were just Wretches', hearing 462 say it that way moved something inside him. It made him feel bad somewhere so deep in his stomach that he'd never felt anything there before. The thing that seemed most reasonable and appropriate to do five minutes earlier- to stop talking to the Wretch, and land his rook at the 8th row- was now unthinkable.

"Do you have a brother?" Instinctively came out from Leonardo's lips.

462 nodded clumsily.

"Do you know its name?"

Its name? Was it possible to use the word it to refer to someone's brother? Or was it something's brother? Could something have a brother: Leonardo's mind was swirling.

"463".

"I saw him the other day. He said they were treating him well", Leonardo said, now speaking softly but fearlessly. And though 462 knew as well as Leonardo the value of such testimony (namely that it was almost worthless), a meek 'thank you' left its large mouth. Its eyes climbed slowly from the board up toward his opponent's face, and they almost met Leonardo's eyes when a shrill beeping sound startled the both of them.

The Wretch got out of its chair with haste and left the apartment.

 

Recounting this occurrence to Francis and Sue- confiding in them the emotional hardship and the confusion it generated in him- wasn't a courageous act but an impetuous one. His two best friends- at one time the most avid supporters of The Existents that he'd known, with whom sharing his own avidity on a daily basis was a natural part of their relationship- not only didn't understand it but felt he'd committed a very immoral and offensive act. They didn’t limit their ridicule of him between them, and Sue was quick to circulate the story around class. Leonardo hadn't born such derision at school since his first days there as an outsider with a weird disease.

But this wasn't what truly hurt him. In this occasion Leonardo found that he'd grown stronger. He still felt awkward in the presence of others, especially if it was a large group of hostiles, but only to the extent that every normal boy would. He had better control of his feeling and of how and at what timing he wished (not) to express them. He still couldn't bring himself to lie almost under any circumstances, but that wasn't something he felt he wanted to change. To what Francis did the next day, however, Leonardo was as sensitive as he'd ever been.

In order to prove the grotesqueness of what Leonardo had said and done, Francis proudly and joyfully marched into class the next morning and, having verified Leonardo's presence, declared his previous night's actions to everyone. He'd ordered his family's servant Wretch to make him a cup of chocolate milk, and though he usually liked it tepid he asked for an especially boiling one. When the Wretch passed him the cup, he'd intentionally spilled it over the Wretch's face. When Francis tried to imitate the tsss sound that he reported the hot liquid produced when it'd come in contact with the servant's skin, a sickening tingle went through Leonardo's body, like a thousand worms crawling inside his skin.

"Then", Francis continued. "I accused it of spilling the cup, and it had to apologize and make me another one. That must've hurt!" And he burst out in a carefree laughter that infected the entire class.

Leonardo didn't respond. He didn't yell or even try to hit Francis like he couldn't help imagining and yearning to do. He simply sat there and stared at his friend in a mix of anger and pity. And that's when he decided to do what he'd been thinking about ever since his last chess match with 462.

He passed the entire afternoon counting the seconds, calculating how many were left and trying to picture what it would be like when the time came. And would he have the courage? Yes, he had to!

It was 19:05 exactly when it happened. The beeping sound came just as it did every day, but to Leonardo it sounded different. It was a relief from the unnerving wait, but also a terribly anxious realization of the boldness of what he was about to do. 462 left the apartment in its usual hurried and indifferent way, but instead of watching it leave and wondering where it was headed as he tended to do when he wasn't concentrated on the chess board, Leonardo started walking toward the door. There was nobody there- he could slip out unnoticed. One more step, and another, he was almost at the door…

"Leonardo!" His mother suddenly called.

No! Not now! If he left now she would notice his absence at once. Perhaps it wasn't meant to be- perhaps tomorrow…No! He was going to do it that same night and nothing would stop him. His mind raced for an excuse to go out. He looked around, hoping to find an answer in one of the house appliances- the living room, the kitchen… Yes! The garbage can. It was almost full and had to be taken out.

"I'm taking out the garbage", he called back to his mom.

"That's okay baby, we'll leave it for the Wretch tomorrow."

"It's alright. He just left- I'll catch him outside", Leonardo said, catching himself too late. He'd called it he. This would surely raise his mother's suspicion, or at least entitle him a sermon that would destroy his plan. His heart pounded in wait for his mother's response, which would determine the fate of that evening. A part of him wished she'd stop him, of course, and spare him the fear, the risk, the nervousness of what he was planning on doing, but there was another, stronger part that knew this was the right thing to do and the right time to do it.

"Okay", his mom said, apparently engaged in some other activity which made her overlook his slip of the tongue.

Okay! He took the garbage can with him (he was obligated to so as not to turn his excuse into an outright lie) and hurried out the door.

It was dark outside. Not pitch black, but a kind of gray that was just light enough to allow Leonardo to see where he was going and who or what was in front of him. There was almost no one out in the streets- in fact it was the first time Leonardo could remember being outdoors at this hour. He'd made up for some of the time lost by darting down the stairs and he could now see 462's back as it rushed toward its daily rendezvous point. He couldn't get too close, because- well, he didn't know what would happen if he did, but he had a strong feeling that it was a bad idea to be detected. He quickly pulled his black mask on, which gave him an extra ounce of much needed confidence. They took a left turn, then a right. They were about to leave the neighborhood, in which case Leonardo wouldn't be very familiar with the area. He wasn't very good with directions.

As they neared the rendezvous point the he could see even less people, but the number of Wretches was growing rapidly. They were coming together from different directions, funneling toward the same route like a million different streams joining at a single confluence. He was having a hard time distinguishing 462 from the other Wretches- they were impossible to tell apart if he couldn't see the numbers on their backs.

Suddenly one popped out from an apartment building right beside Leonardo and jumped into his line of sight, completely blocking his view forward. He edged left and then right, craned his neck and stretched his chest, crouched and jumped as high as he could up in the air, but to no avail.

462 was gone.

In a burst of panic Leonardo froze, spun around and timidly faced the stream of Wretches coming his way. He suddenly felt all alone out there, though in fact he'd been completely alone from the moment he'd stepped out of the building. He managed to draw in some deep breaths and calm himself, then, acting out of reason rather than emotion, he turned back around and continued. It made no difference whether 462 was there or not; there were enough Wretches to show him the way, and they were all going to the same place.

He knew he was close when, having moved away from any apartment building or any otherwise populated area, the relative quiet of the night was broken by a jumble of unnerving noises. There was the rev of multiple engines, the clank of metal, some yelling and cursing, and above all an incessant bloodcurdling symphony of moans, groans and wails that could originate only in pain or despair. Or both.

He reached a clearing, barren and desolate with giant piles of debris scattered upon the otherwise empty land. It was hard to believe that such a place existed within ten minutes' walking distance from his home. It was as though there were some invisible wall hiding it out of sight. And now he was on the other side of the wall. There was an upward slope that led to a wide plateau, after which came a fall, where all the action seemed to be happening. You couldn't see how deep the ground dropped after the plateau until you reached it. There were swarms of Wretches making their way to the edge of the plateau and then disappearing down the slope that followed. Leonardo was the only person there, a 9-year-old child swimming alone in a sea of Wretches, but the surreal nature of the scene evaded him. He was on a mission- a personal mission- and as he neared the edge of the plateau his appreciation of the momentousness of the occasion grew, greater with every step he made, until he was there.

He stood there motionless, breathless, thoughtless, until his body could no longer resist and he was suddenly forced to gasp for air. What took place down below, not very far and very easily accessible from where he was standing, made him yearn to run home and forget everything but at the same time grounded him in that same spot at the top, where the view of the horror was the finest.

All the Wretches that had assembled down at the bottom formed disorderly lines at the back of large trucks that had their back parts opened, ready for loading. Prodded on by men with steel rods sharpened at the edges, and guarded by several armed men standing between each two trucks, the Wretches loaded the trucks without the slightest objection or intentional delay. With every group of twenty Wretches or so, the men with the steel rods signaled for those at the front of each line to stop until those inside were arranged more space-efficiently. Then, a row of metal bars that spanned the length of the inside of the truck came down from the ceiling and pressed the new load into a tight cluster to make space for newcomers. The metal bars, narrowly spaced, slowly narrowed the gap between the current row and the previous one which was in place, compressing the previous load of Wretches like a air in a balloon, until the bars reached their designated position, and the next load began.

Without exception, every single Wretch in every single load was squeezed tightly against the others in its group and crushed by the force of the bars. They were all brought to the point where their large, cumbersome bodies were distorted, misshaped and, often irreversibly, impaired. The fortunate ones rammed their heads in the space between two of the bars and could fill their lungs with a few more breaths until the next load was forced against them, even though this usually came at the cost of serious shoulder injuries. They all suffered some kind of injury or another- it was impossible to make it through intact. But what was most nightmarish about the whole thing- worse than bodies being crushed against each other and yielding under the enormous pressure exerted upon them- was their misery. They knew what was coming- they'd been through it before- they dreaded it, but there was no escape. These large, powerful things- some of them twice as large and ten times as strong as the men that were prodding them onto the trucks- were all crying horrific cries of agony, each in its own way. And more kept coming, darting past Leonard readily and nonchalantly, marching their way into hell. There was so much suffering there that it seemed to steep the air, making it thick and difficult to breathe.

Why were they going there? Why was this happening? Why was there nobody there trying to stop it?

Leonardo instinctively shut his eyes and pressed his palms hard against his ears, hoping it would all go away. It had to go away, since something so horrible couldn't exist! But even with his senses as distant as he could put them, in his mind's eye he could still see and hear and smell the atrocity, and in his heart the agony was the same. He tried to stop a few of the Wretches passing by him and warn them of what awaited them, but they stoically waited until he was out of breath or out of hope and continued to descend the slope.

And then, without having intended it, he understood everything. Even as the horror continued to be reflected in his transparent eyes, John saw Jessica standing on stage and saying the word that he hadn't comprehended before but now did:

'Never has true justice existed without the presence of compassion'.

It was only without compassion that what was causing his eyes to be in the dark and his ears in silence, but still burned him inside could take place. It could only take place when instead of compassion there was 'justice's eternal nemesis: indifference'.

When he saw these trucks and these metal cages and these Wretches and these men with the steel rods and the guns he knew- witnessing this sufficed to know it without any shadow of doubt- that here there was no justice. And if here there was no justice, then everywhere there was no justice. Because he understood now what Jessica had been trying to say through the thick walls of indifference that had collapsed upon her- justice doesn't belong to anyone. Justice either is or it isn't. Either it belongs to everyone, or it belongs to no one.

Here, it belonged to no one.

 

There was so much Leonardo wanted to do- so much he felt he had to do when he returned home with a tear-drenched face and a torn heart, but there was only one thing he could do. He ran into his bedroom, shut the door, and climbed onto his bed. And he wept.

He wept for a long time, uncontrollably, and neither cared nor was able to respond to the knocking on his bedroom door. The door creaked open and someone walked in. He wanted to be alone, to cry until he'd suffered as much as any one of the Wretches on any one of those trucks did. Then, he felt a hand touch his shoulder, and a man's consoling voice (a voice that sounded like a stranger's):

"I know son, I know."

And his father sat beside him and took him in his lap, and they wept together.

A few minutes after Steve had left the room (and after their tears had dried) there was another knock on the door, and this time Hailey entered.

"What's the matter, honey?" She said with all the love and empathy in the world- so much love and empathy, in fact, that only a mother could fit it all in a single sentence- though she had a strong premonition as to the cause of Leonardo's pain.

In his current condition, after what he'd seen, Leonardo couldn't hold back. He began to tell his mother what he'd witnessed, the chilling reality of it all-

"That's enough! I don't want to hear it!" She bellowed like an awakened monster. "Enough with this nonsense!" She was so reluctant to hear what he had to say that it overcame her anger for his putting himself at risk (which is what any mother would think under such circumstances), her concern for anything that may have happened to him in the process, or her instinctive need to console him. The most important thing was not to listen to what he had to say. She turned and made for the door, but Leonardo refused to hold his silence.

"But it's the truth!" He insisted. "'I'm for the truth, no matter who tells it.'"

But she didn't respond.

"Is this it, mom?" He said softly, causing her to stop in her tracks. "This is what you were telling me about, isn't it? This is the darkest corner of your mind."

 

There was only one request Leonardo had. He wanted to give 462 a present. A big present. The biggest present a 9-year-old boy with Asperger Syndrome could give, aside from compassion, to someone who had no light in their life. He wanted to give him the glass chessboard. He didn't even know why he wanted it, or if 462 would have any use for it. Or even if there existed any chance that it would survive the loading to the trucks. He could hide it on the floor so that it didn't take up any precious space, but who knew.

"Please", he whispered to it during their last chess match together. "Please let me give it to you." The tears formed so fast that he couldn't stop them cascading down his face.

462 looked into the boy's transparent eyes and nodded. The game continued as usual, as though these were two legitimate opponents in a fierce competition with nothing bigger or more important than the game itself hovering over that beautiful glass board. And when Leonardo's rook checkmated the black king, this time without the slightest consideration or concession made by the black side, a furry hand was extended over the board. Leonardo looked with great excitement at his opponent and shook the hand that had been offered him. Underneath the fur there was skin. Rough, uneven skin that wasn't pleasant to the touch but exuded the warmth of life.

Leonardo knew that his father would allow him to give away such a precious thing as the chess board, and that he would do whatever was necessary to convince his mom. And he was right.

That evening 462 was the first Wretch to ever receive a gift, packed in a brown bag and camouflaged under his arm, from the family it served.

It was also the last time anyone in the family would ever see 462, as the next day, for the first time in over a year, a different servant with the number 642 on its back entered the apartment as the family's new Wretch.

Impressum

Tag der Veröffentlichung: 04.09.2013

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