the Registry and avoid any activities or communications concerning your anomalous condition.”
Cliff leaned forward, looking down at the paper on the desk. It appeared to be a fairly simply form outlining the details of what the man in the suit had just explained. At the bottom of the form, there was a single line with a space for his signature and the date.
Cliff nodded slowly, lost in thought. After a few moments, he looked up at the man in the suit.
“What if I don't sign?”
The man in the suit chuckled, adjusting his tie with a sly smile.
“Let's not even go there, Mr. Johnson. Are you ready to sign?”
Cliff stared blankly at the paper. After a few moments, he let out a long, slow sigh, his head slumping forward as he stared down at his feet.
“Alright, I'll sign.”
The man in the suit smiled.
“Good.”
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a remote control, pressing a button to release the steel cuffs on Cliff's arms and legs. Cliff rubbed his wrists as the man in the suit slid a pen over to his side of the table. After a moment's hesitation, Cliff signed the paper, pushing it back across the table.
The man in the suit smiled broadly, picking up the paper and tucking it beneath the clip on his clipboard.
“Excellent.”
Cliff heard a buzzing noise, and the door behind the man in the suit slid open slightly. The man in the suit pushed the door open fully, motioning for Cliff to step out into the office beyond it.
“We've already implanted your tracking device. One of our associates will give you an exit interview and direct you down the hall to receive your new ID.”
Cliff stood up, staring at the man in the suit warily.
“That's it?”
The man nodded and smiled.
“That's it.”
He set down the clipboard, extending his hand to Cliff.
“We're really not as bad as some people say we are. Mr. Johnson, I wish you the best of luck in your new life.”
Cliff stared at the man's hand blankly for a moment, then accepted the handshake.
“Um, thanks.”
He looked back at the metal chair he had been locked into a few moments ago, then wandered out into the office in a daze.
Cliff was enjoying his first visit to the Missouri Botanical Garden. He was walking hand in hand through the Japanese strolling garden with Jennifer, a beautiful young woman he had met three weeks ago at work. As they walked down the path, he breathed in the mild scent of flowers and took in the sights of the simple but elegant greenery that surrounded them. He listened idly to Jennifer's boisterous commentary about the garden as they paused on the bridge to appreciate their surroundings.
For a long while, Cliff was absorbed in the moment, looking out on the lake and wrapping an arm around Jennifer's shoulder. Soon, however, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure.
It was Linda.
For a long moment, the two exchanged a meaningful glance. Cliff's heart started racing, and his hand absent-mindedly wandered to the slight scar on his chest where the Order had implanted the tracking device. As he looked into Linda's wide, stunned, eyes, he wondered for a moment if the tracking device really did have a detonator, and if Linda knew someone who could remove it.
But then, the moment passed. He broke eye contact with Linda, looking away with a sigh. For several moments, he stared blankly over the water, his eyes fixating on a single leaf falling from a tree on the distant shore. As the leaf settled onto the surface of the water, he snapped out of his trance, looking back to Jennifer.
“Cliff? Is something wrong?”
Cliff shook his head, his lips automatically spreading into a smile at the sight of her bright blue eyes.
“No, everthing's fine. I was just lost in thought.”
He glanced back where Linda had been standing, but she was gone.
“Come on, let's keep going. We don't want to be late for dinner.”
He leaned forward, giving Jennifer a quick kiss and taking her by the hand. As they walked down the path together, he squeezed her hand lightly and flashed her a quick smile. She smiled back at him, her eyes lingering on him for a moment until she slipped back into her running monologue on the various plants and history of the botanical garden.
By the time they made it to Jennifer's car an hour later, Cliff had set aside any thoughts of who he had seen in the garden. He got into the car and rode off to dinner with Jennifer, never looking back.
Imbalance
“She's not coming.”
The words brought Rory's attention back to the present. He glanced down at his cell phone and noticed that it was 12:13 a.m. A quick scan of the half-empty bar confirmed that Morgan was nowhere to be seen.
“Come on, Locust. She's only thirteen minutes late. She'll be here.”
“No way, man.” Locust shook his head. “She's never late. I'm telling you, man, she's just not coming. None of them are.”
Rory took another long gulp of his Guinness and looked off into the distance. Now that Morgan had an internship with the Sierra Club, she was showing up less and less often. Aaron and Amber hadn't been around much since they had a baby two months ago. Eric and Jason had drifted off into the art subculture again. Husky was always up for anything green, but not always aware of what day of the week it was. That brought the number of active members of the Climate Action Coalition down to two.
Locust squirmed in place slightly, rolling his bottle of beer slowly between his palms and looking around the bar anxiously.
“So what do we do? We can't do another protest if it's just the two of us. Hell, I don't even have gas money.”
Rory finished his drink and slid the empty glass toward the bartender.
“I'll have another.”
Once a fresh pint of Guinness arrived, he stared into the dark liquid for a long moment before responding.
“Plan B.”
Locust's eyes widened. He cast a few quick glances around the bar, leaning in closer and lowering his voice before continuing.
“I don't know, Rory. Don't you think Plan B is part of the problem? I mean maybe a year ago, but now Morgan has a job, and—”
“Then why didn't we do it a year ago?” Rory sighed, closing his eyes and rubbing his temples. “Did we think it was going to get any better? Did we think a few petitions and photos on some website would change anything?”
Locust's expression brightened.
“We did! We really did. So many people mobilized for Copenhagen. And then when that didn't work, Occupy took on the whole system.”
“And then?”
“And then?” Locust shrugged. “I don't know. I guess we're all waiting for the next big thing.”
Rory laughed coldly.
“Waiting. Watching. Reacting. That's what they want. They're going to burn every drop of oil on the planet. And nobody's going to stop them because they're too busy working for the corporations, or pumping out babies, or watching Jersey Shore.”
“Yeah.” Locust chuckled. “Or Twilight.”
Rory smiled for a moment, but the somber expression returned before he spoke.
“So we agree that think tanks like the International Prometheus Consortium are funded by the oil industry and are the biggest barrier to public action on climate change.”
Locust nodded. Rory continued.
“And we agree that the only way to expose the IPC and their lies is to shine a public light on who they are and how they're tampering with public opinion and public policy on climate change.”
Locust nodded again, and Rory took several long gulps from his drink before continuing.
“Then we need to do it. We need to break into the IPC.”
Locust's eyes widened. “Shh! I'm with you, man, but—”
“But what?”
Rory finished his beer, pushing it toward the bartender and asking for another before c
ontinuing.
“You really think another protest is going to do anything?” He chuckled, his eyes shining with a mix of humor and anger. “Don't worry, I'm not talking about burning it down. I'm just talking about smashing every damned computer in the building and releasing a communique about it. It'll be on the cable news shows before we even make it home. Mission accomplished.”
Locust looked down at his beer bottle for a few moments. He took another drink and shook his head with a sigh.
“I don't know, man. It just doesn't seem worth it, you know? If we get caught.”
“Not worth it?” Rory let go of his new drink for a moment, glaring at Locust and clenching his fists in anger. “Even if you don't care about what they're doing to the land itself, think of the people. These tornadoes, wildfires, hurricanes, are just the beginning. Millions of environmental refugees. Tens of millions. In our lifetime. You saw what happened to Joplin. There are going to be a thousand Joplins. And a thousand Katrinas. And a thousand Sandys. Hell, we could be next.”
Locust nodded. “Yeah, but—”
“No buts. I'm doing this. If you want to stay home, stay home. But I'm doing this.”
For a few minutes, the two sat together in silence. Locust sipped at his beer slowly, but Rory gulped down the rest of his beer before continuing.
“And you know what? If nobody listens, all the better. Sometimes I think that nobody will listen until the storms have leveled every city in the world. Even then, people may not listen. Either way, problem solved.”
Rory pushed away his beer glass and threw a tip down on the table. Before Locust could interrupt, he stood up and walked out of the bar.
It was unusually cool outside for a night in early May. The sky was overcast, obscuring the full moon and hinting at the