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  The Dogmen enter, all slaver and snarls. I have nothing in the way of possessions, but they break what they can anyway as they pass. I try to recapture my ability to breathe as the room distorts with my vision.

  When I can finally see, the view is of a pair of gleaming onyx heels that stab the floor like daggers. A black velvet skirt swallows the well-toned calves. The ebony coat is military cut, but it’s the face that fixates my attention. It is pale as cream, hard as steel and cold as a winter storm. The raven hair which frames it is closely cropped as if to deny her femininity. An officer’s hat perches on top with the Dog of War emblazoned in silver.

  “Can you get up? Or do I need Butcher to assist you?” Her voice is clipped and businesslike. It is the voice of someone used to giving orders. I don’t have to possess all my senses to recognize the threat behind the words. Her hand rests on the handle of a holstered pistol. The very fact that she is armed would mark her as an officer even without the uniform.

  I manage to pick myself off the floor.

  “That’s better. Now state your name.”

  “Franklin. Franklin Gamble.”

  I immediately wince at the transgression. I wish I could blame it on the dizziness, but I’m really not sure why my mouth would behave so disloyally. Butcher takes a threatening step toward me, but the woman stops him with a sharp gesture.

  “Franklin Gamble, is it?” She takes a look at a sheet of paper in her gloved hand and regretfully shakes her head. “You disappoint me, CZN 4891. That is your registered label, is it not?”

  Of course it is.

  But for some obscene reason my mouth continues to refuse compliance by offering the required response. My throat constricts, smothering the words to death in the humid prison of my throat.

  The other Dogmen trample the stairs to splinters as they descend, rescuing me from my mute display. One of them carries my death sentence in hand. His growl has a distinctly satisfied tone.

  “The fool had this in plain sight.”

  The crimson letters practically scream my treason. The woman in black barely glances at the placard before returning her attention to me. Her eyes are pools of ink that betray no emotion.

  “We’re too late, then. Take him.”

  Something strikes the back of my head, and I sink into the darkness of her unblinking gaze.

  Chapter 3

  The door splinters inward and I see their twisted, inhuman faces. The suited figures snarl, delighting in her screams. She pulls her son away from the table, disrupting the tablecloth. A mug of coffee slides across and falls to the floor.

  The pottery shatters. Warm liquid pools across the tiles. I see my reflection upon its surface: the fear on my face, my mouth open in a scream of pain and rage and hate. I stretch out my hand, but cannot touch them, cannot come to their aid. The Dogmen that have me pinned to the ground are too heavy, their blows rain upon my head with relentless insistence for my submission.

  I feel no pain, only terror as she and the child are pulled away from me, lost in a sea of flailing limbs and snarling faces. Our screams mingle in chorus as they are snatched through the door while I lie helpless, my face shoved against floorboards slick with my own blood…

  WA

  KE

  UP

  “Easy, now. Easy. You’ve been through quite an ordeal.”

  The voice is disturbingly familiar. My eyes open to blindness. Nothing exists except glaring light.

  “They scanned you. Checked your brain for implants. They’re afraid you’ve been tampered with. Inserted with mental suggestions.” He chuckles. “The oppressor always accuses the other party of the tactics they themselves are guilty of.”

  Jack pulls the lens light back, allowing my vision to adjust. He is dressed in medical scrubs with a surgeon mask over his face. But his eyes smile all the same as he continues to disorient me with his words.

  “They refuse to acknowledge we are as technologically savvy as they are. That arrogance is what allows us to infiltrate their system right under their nose.”

  I sit up shakily, trying to take in my surroundings. Jack removes his mask and takes a seat directly across from me in the claustrophobic cabin. He appears as calm and bemused as ever as he regards me quietly.

  Laser lights zip by outside the darkened narrow window. Glimmering bullets streak across long metallic rails at speeds so fast that the only thing visible is the glimmering blur. I am traveling, it seems, although the movement is so smooth I cannot feel the momentum. Which could only mean…

  “We are on a train, Franklin. Do you remember cars? When individuals could go where they wished without being monitored? Those days are long past, of course. With the transit system, you can only go where you are directed.”

  His gesture takes in the entire cabin. “This is an exception, of course. One of the Sovereign’s private transports. You are in the heart of enemy territory.”

  I blink slowly. “Enemy? Why…why are you here? What do you want from me?”

  “The better question is: what do you want from yourself?” He looks at me patiently.

  I frown as the thought slowly stumbles across my mind. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

  His eyes pierce, seeing past my lies. “What do you see when the lights are out and all you have are your thoughts to keep you company?”

  The woman with autumn hair and laughing eyes along with the child who shares her features…

  I immediately turn away to dismiss the intruding vision. “I think of nothing. You should leave. It is better to be silent. We need only know what we need to know.”

  “The mantra of the Sovereign? You know better than that, Franklin.” Jack leans back, observing my reaction with somber eyes. “I understand you’re disoriented right now. We have little time. Ask your questions and I’ll try to give you answers.”

  I hesitate. Answers. I am both tempted and afraid to find out what they are.

  “Why is this happening to me?”

  Jack rubs his hands together. “Because you have awakened, Franklin. You have to understand that you are part of a work force which operates in the most vulnerable part of the Sovereign Empire. In order to protect themselves, the workers are placed in a near catatonic state. They are referred to as drones. Their lives consist of unquestioning subservience to the Sovereign. Every day they rise to perform their tasks without a thought for why. Without a thought for themselves. They rise when commanded, eat when commanded, sleep when commanded. You know this of course, because you are one of them.”

  A smile shadows his lips. “Or were, I should say.”

  “So why am I different?”

  He leans forward. “Because you choose to fight them, Franklin. Despite the hypnosis buried in the sound waves from the box, despite the indoctrination of their propaganda, despite the sedatives mixed into your meals, you fight them. In the deepest recesses of your subconscious you refuse to submit, and that is why you struggle with suppressed memories that bubble to the surface of your mind. That is why you question your role in the Sovereign’s machinations. And that is why they have come for you.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m just one person.”

  “One person who defies a program which allows no defiance,” Jack says. “You are not the first. We have been trying to contact any who begin to show signs of awakening. We are not always successful. The enlightened used to be killed on the spot. But more and more are experiencing the flickers of reality. The machines of indoctrination are weakening, and the Sovereign is uneasy. Now they have to alter their way of doing things.”

  “What will they do with me?”

  “They will grant you SVR privileges now.”

  I blink. “Supervisor? Why would they do that?”

  “That’s their new method of suppression. Reward works better than execution. A corpse can do nothing except fertilize. A happy slave is better than a dead one any day.”

  “Who are you? What is the Wake Up movement about?”

  “F
reedom.”

  The word hangs in the air, daring me to deny the power of its presence.

  “But what does that—?”

  “Hold that thought.” Jack looks back as though his eyes can penetrate the walls and see what I cannot. “Our time is up.” He rises quickly, his hand on the door handle.

  “But…”

  “I’ll be in touch soon. Meanwhile, try to keep your head above water. Whatever they ask, you must do for now. And beware of Ursula. She is a woman of many wiles, and will use any and all to usurp your mind.”

  His words hang in the air even as the man vanishes out the door. Mere seconds later the door opens again and she enters, cool as morning frost and twice as lovely.

  Ursula.

  The room seems even more constricting with her in it. She takes the seat recently vacated by Jack. I wonder how it’s possible they managed to miss each other in that short period of time. Or are they in league together? Could they be engineering Jack’s involvement in an attempt to entrap me?

  My thoughts are distracted when she crosses one leg over the other. The dress seems shorter somehow, exposing a generous expanse of flawless, creamy skin.

  Something awakens in me. A primal instinct, a rush of blood that raises my temperature causes me to become distinctly uncomfortable…

  Her voice refocuses my attention. “I am Madam Lieutenant Ursula Von Bauer. And you are Citizen Franklin Gamble, yes? You’ve been consorting with the enemy, Franklin.” Her brusque words slice like daggers, her raven-colored eyes peer at me like their next meal.

  I wet my lips nervously. “I’m…not sure what—”

  “Don’t bother denying it.” She flips the placard over like a gambler would a winning hand. “This alone will convict you should we wish to press the issue.”

  I feel as if I’m standing in the middle of a steel trap about to snap shut. “You’re saying you’re not—?”

  Her lips curve ever so slightly, softening her face a degree or two. “The Sovereign is not without compassion, Franklin. We understand your actions have been…manipulated by the mechanisms of the Coalition, the traitors behind this so-called Wake Up movement. In fact, you provide us with a unique opportunity.”

  I exhale a gust of breath I didn’t realize I was holding. “To do what?”

  “To serve the Sovereign Empire, of course. That is still your desire, is it not?” One of her eyebrows arches questioningly.

  “With all of my heart, Madam Lieutenant.”

  “I am glad to hear that.” She steeples her fingers together and looks at me like a tool she may or may not have a use for. “Obviously your mental state has been altered by your recent experiences. You will have to give up your previous role of service. Will that be a problem for you?”

  “I am ready to serve in whatever station the Sovereign requests of me, Madam Lieutenant.”

  “Very good.” She pressed a button on the arm of her seat and the window fizzles into a screen displaying scenes of the city. Men in lines moving on their prearranged routes to their workstations. The Dog of War flying high atop the buildings. Floating zeppelins hovering over the city like watchful eyes.

  “You have proven to possess a mind destined for great things, Franklin. Though your voluntary station has been served uncomplainingly, it’s obvious you have outgrown that rank. It is time you move on to the next step.”

  She looks at me with eyes that gleam like wet ink. “It has been decided you will serve as a SVR, starting tomorrow. You will oversee the district where you formerly served as a drone. Your first assignment will be to weed out the infiltration by the Coalition and report every infraction to us immediately. Do you understand your orders, Franklin?”

  It is hard for me to find my voice, but somehow I manage a dry rasp. “I do, Madam Lieutenant.”

  “Then we are pleased. This is a mission of utmost importance. You will receive more instruction in the morning about the details of your task. I know you will not fail us.”

  I manage to look into her obsidian eyes without flinching. “I live to serve the Sovereign and obey in silence.”

  “If you can lead us to these traitors, the Sovereign will be indebted to you. You will gain a reward only a few have risen to earn.”

  She presses a button on the armchair and the screen fizzles again; morphing into a frozen still which causes my heart to pound so forcefully that I’m afraid she will hear the sound. The two figures in the still are instantly recognizable. I see them every night in my dreams.

  “You can earn an honorable discharge. You will be retired, Franklin. And you will be able to join with your family once more.”

  It is hard to divide my focus, but somehow I am aware of the smiling features of my wife and son along with the shadows that play across Ursula’s face, almost dark enough to hide the gleam in her eyes.

  Chapter 4

  I feel no pain, only terror as my wife and son are pulled away from me, lost in a sea of flailing limbs and snarling faces. Our screams mingle in chorus as they are snatched through the door while I lie helpless, my face shoved against floorboards slick with my own blood.

  Something snaps inside of me. I become weightless as I rise with a wild roar, hurling the Dogmen away like small children. I have to reach the door, to follow my wife and son before they are gone forever. I stagger forward as the Dogmen snarl behind me, reaching for their batons. The door leans drunkenly on its broken hinges, exposing the smoggy view of the outdoors. My wife calls out my name. The fear in her voice swells in my head until I feel I will go mad from the agony. I stumble forward…

  WA

  KE

  UP

  The buzz of the morning alarm relieves me of the terror of sleep. I sit up, feeling wildly disoriented. I remember then that I am not in my regular quarters. My new room is larger, the walls brighter when they awaken with my movements. The bed is softer, the décor actually present, although so prosaic it’s hardly worth noticing. As I get out of the bed, the screens flicker to life.

  I stand at attention as the anthem blares over the room speakers while the Dog of War displays on the screens. The Smiling Man replaces the insignia once the anthem ends.

  “Good morning, Supervisor Gamble. Congratulations on your promotion to SVR. Today you will begin your training to become proficient in your newly appointed duties. First order of the day is the uniform of your station. Please take the next five minutes to dress yourself in your new apparel. Should you need assistance, press the green button for aid.”

  The black uniform silently slides toward me on a revolving rack like a gloomy phantom, seeming to absorb the light with the intensity of its simplistic design. It is an outfit created to intimidate, to strike a sense of dread in the most subservient of citizens.

  I dress quickly and prepare myself for my training. The Smiling Man cheerfully supplies narration.

  “An obedient citizen has no excuse for tardiness. If a citizen is late for any reason, he is to immediately be reported…”

  “—you should never wait for patterns of disobedience to display themselves. Report the citizen to the Dogmen at the first sign of insubordination…”

  “—conversation is the ally of terrorists who infiltrate in the guise of citizens. Should you see anyone engaged in extensive discussion of any sort, report it immediately…”

  “—the role of the SVR is that of a shadow. You follow, you observe, you report…”

  “—silence is more than just a lack of useless discourse. It is the sound of obedience…”

  “—any strange or suspicious behavior is to be reported immediately…”

  “—never engage a citizen unless the Dogmen are unable to comply or are otherwise occupied. In such cases the SVR may be called upon to use lethal force.”

  I am in the process of learning the quickest way to throttle a threatening suspect when my doors open, admitting a hulking Dogman. Though they are nearly impossible to tell apart, I recognize this particular one. It is Butcher, the same one who
led in my arrest.

  “At attention, SVR.” I hear mockery behind his snarl. He has not forgotten my recent identification as a criminal.

  I stand up straight as Ursula enters, shadowed by a pair of additional Dogmen. Her onyx eyes lock onto mine as she addresses her bestial bodyguards.

  “You may leave us.”

  The Dogmen don’t like the order, but they have no choice but to comply. Butcher shoulders me roughly as he passes.

  “You might fool them for now, but not me. I can smell a traitor from a mile away. They all have the same cowardly scent.” He growls warningly as he leaves.

  Ursula’s lips quirk as the Dogmen exit. “My bodyguard is quite protective, as you can see.”

  “Yes, Madam Lieutenant.”

  She circles me, prickling my skin with the intensity of her study. I try not to clench my shoulders from the sensation. I catch the scent of cloves and cinnamon that clings to her skin. I am sure she didn’t smell that way earlier.

  She is without her officer hat and coat. Her ivory uniform shirt appears soft and clings to her body in a manner that makes me recognize her womanhood. I try to keep my eyes forward as she finishes her inspection.

  She regards me through her sooty lashes. “You look natural in that uniform.”

  “Thank you, Madame Lieutenant.”

  She taps a gloved finger on her lips. “You don’t realize your importance in all of this yet, do you?”

  “I am not important. I am merely a tool to be used by the Sovereign as is seen fit.”

  She nods approvingly. “Indeed. You repeat what you have been taught quite well. But I wonder if your heart is as devoted as your tongue.”

  The question catches me off guard. “My…heart?”

  “Obedience is a practice,” Ursula says. “Devotion is a personal choice. You were found with the paraphernalia of the enemy. That would indicate your heart is not aligned with what your mind knows to be true.”