t w e n t y - f o u r : perception

Lacey's POV:

Cracking down these radical factions has gotten easier since the beginning of the Reversal. In the beginning, I remember receiving so much backlash. About 40% of the population was on board. 50% resented it, but they were willing to comply. And the last 10% was the minority of radical (mostly men) people trying to win back their misogynistic society. We repressed that immediately. But naturally, as those weeds were plucked, more arose, which is why our loyal "Societal Coordinator" Harry is in charge of burning them. We use "Societal Coordinator" for technical reasons. Really, he susses out suspicious people, and "sets them straight". "Setting them straight" could mean a variety of things. In this situation, it's not a good one.

He's so loyal to the Reversal. Some part of that may be his residual love and loyalty for Terra. Whatever his motivation is, it's working. Soon our 95% support will turn into 100.

Recently, there haven't been many outbreaks of radical groups--at least not publicly--but I heard of a small group near Harry in Maryland. It should be easy to crack down.

Kara's POV:

"Wow. It's real," I exclaim.

"Yeah," he nods slowly.

I shove him again, but he catches my arm, "How can you be nonchalant about this, of all things?!"

"I'm not nonchalant. I'm just normal, and you're crazy," he lets go of my arm.

Good point.

I shift until I'm comfortable, "Right after the meeting we should ask them about what exactly they plan to do when they go back, and what role we could play in that."

"We don't want to scare them. We should just complement them, you know, feed their egos. Maybe include how we've been waiting for this forever. You should definitely show your enthusiasm. As a girl, your opinion is more valuable--I mean since the scales would be weighed against you."

"But they won't be, because we're gonna--"

"Shhh," he puts a finger to his lips, "They don't know that yet."

"Unless you don't plan to stick to our plan," I cross my arms.

He rolls his eyes, "Of course I'm sticking to my plan that you tagged along on," he emphasizes.

"Our plan," I reaffirm.

"Our plan," he huffs.

"Okay, so we meet up with them and feed their egos, slowing easing ourselves into their inner circle," I rub my chin. Simple, right? Hopefully, because time travel sounds fun. Of course it's serious--altering one event could change the entire present and future... but also fun.

"It seems like that John guy is on the outs with the group, Hewey more specifically," he looks at them in deep thought.

"Yeah, maybe we should focus on Hewey. He seems to have a big ego, to be honest."

"Everyone head back upstairs for discussion. Snacks and drinks will be served," Mr. Grayson announces. He's taken off his mask, and I can see his full face. He's elderly--maybe about 60 or older, evident in his gray stubble. He looks nice enough. Leading an anti-anti Misogynist faction should make someone look rough, detestable even. As much as I disliked him on our first impromptu meeting, I feel a little sorry for him now. The Old World and the New World are two vastly different concepts on the societal spectrum. President Carrington's fighting for this world can be seen as just as bad as Mr. Grayson fighting for his. In a way, they're both wrong--and as foolishly as it sounds, Shawn and I might be able to rectify it.

"At discussion, we eat and talk about the shit that the New World has handed to us."

"Oh, wow. Has everyone already shared, or do new stories pop up?," I ask.

"Sometimes old stories get told. Sometimes new incidents are shared. It varies."

"Well, I'm hungry, and a little bored, so I could listen to some stories. Also, it would be refreshing to hear from people who don't have the most optimistic view of this life--aka. my friends and family."

We go back upstairs to see serving plates with hot steaming food. Potatoes, chicken, rice, broccoli, and more lay in a buffet-style on long tables. I was expecting crusty cheese and crackers--not a buffet. I'm impressed...

"Dude, this is a whole feast," I gape.

"Yes, it's delicious," he smiles.

We sit next to each other in a big circle in the main meeting room. Greg sits next to Mr. Grayson, and John, Hewey, and Dewey sit together.

"Who wants to share first?," Mr. Grayson asks.

Nobody volunteers.

"Okay, I'll go. A few of you have heard this story before, but I'll tell it again, as we have some new members here," I swear he looks straight at me. I thought it was less obvious. But then again, there was that one confrontation...

"My wife and I lived in a small town in Missouri before moving here. We had a farm, and we lived like people should--before all this. I was the man of the house. I was supportive and protective of her and our family. Sure, I wasn't perfect. We had arguments like any other couple, but we were happy," he puts his head in his hand, "We never were caught up with all the pop culture or anything, so when the Reversal happened, it was a shock to both of us. Ever since that day, I haven't seen my wife. She realized she was 'too good for me'," he airquotes, "and left," he wipes his eyes.

"She just up and left?," I ask to myself. It turns out it wasn't fully to myself.

"Yes. It was that easy for her," he sniffs. "It's that easy for all of them now. It's that chemical in their brains," he turns sharply, "in all of their brains."

Someone else sniffs beside me. Shawn. I guess Mr. Grayson's wife hit a nerve.

I just can't help myself, "But men did the same before."

This receives sharp turns from everyone in the room. I don't think I'm working the anti-Reversal angle properly...

"Wouldn't it be better if no one walked out on their family?," I suggest.

"That would go against the natural order."

"But, if what we're preaching is against abandonement and superiority of one group, then--"

"The fact of the matter is that the world needs to go back to normal. Alright, any other volunteers?," he dismisses me.

Shawn and I really have some work to do.

Mr. Grayson looks around the room until he picks a man who looks not much older than us.

"Hi, my name is Joshua. I'm 19."

"We know," Shawn huffs. I don't. Everyone chuckles at that.

Joshua just shifts in his seat, "Mine is more recent. I was walking back to my apartment after this homecoming party last year. I was already a bit wary about walking at night. You know how difficult it can be," he glances at me, "most of you. I was a little drunk, I'll admit that, and maybe I did indulge in some of the prescribed party favors..." he trails. "Anyway," he raises his voice sharply, "I got attacked that night, by two women. I know, I know I shouldn't have been so inebriated," he shakes his head.

"No," Mr. Grayson reaffirms, "Never blame yourself for the pain that was inflicted upon you."

Joshua nods, "They beat me. They called me names and ripped my clothes off. I felt so humiliated. I could barely show my face at school. I recognized them in my Humanities class, and I was just short of a heart attack after seeing them unfazed by my pain. I never went back to school after that. I decided to find a nonprofit that would work to prevent vicious acts of inhumanity from being as rampant as they were. Long story short, the government didn't do shit, and here we are. Hurray," he finishes sarcastically.

That sounds devastating. All that pain and suffering--and he must have felt like absolutely no one cared. It's awful.

I turn to Shawn, "That's horrible." He nods in response.

"Have you shared your story here?"

"No, actually."

"Everyone's welcome to refreshments," Mr. Grayson booms. I bet he's just trying to relieve us of the depressing mood that story time has inflicted.

Shawn gets up, "Come on, I'll show you what's good."

I follow him, but everything looks good. I'm not picky.

We get burgers and sit by Andrew and some friends.

"What's up, dude?," Andrew raises his bottle to wave.

"Hey."

"Hey," I say.

"What's your mom gonna say about...?"

"She's not gonna know," I say deeply. "She would fucking kill me."

"I know. Did this guy get you into this," he points to Shawn. Shawn looks up.

"No, I'm here out of my own volition. I happen to think this cause is important." Am I being convincing enough?

"Yeah. She chose to be here. I'm just the chauffeur. On some days," he chuckles.

"Why are you here?," I point. "Your parents would throw a fit. Our parents work together."

"I'm well aware," he rolls his eyes. "What doesn't make sense is your being here, though," he looks around. "You know this is kind of a male supremacy group," he whispers.

Sadly, yes I do know that.

"Are you a male supremacist?," I ask flatly.

"Well, not really. But, I'm not a female supremacist..."

"Do there really just have to be two extremes to this?," I ask.

They all just shrug in response, except Shawn. He's absorbed in eating.

I take a deep breath and return to my food when I hear a huge crash.

"Get the fuck out! You heard me. Move out!," a voice booms.

I sharply look over at Shawn, and he seems mildly interested.

Some policewomen stormed inside the side entrance.

Before I know it, he's grabbing my hand and leading us downstairs.

"Do not resist!," she yells. People are scrambling all over the room. It's like lighting a fire over a bunch of mice.

We manage to make it to the room where the travelers showed us evidence of time travel.

Shawn locks the door behind us. We hear screams, stomping, and crying from 30 feet above.

"What the fuck?"

"Shhh," he puts his index finger to my lips. It tastes like macaroni and cheese. Then he looks at me like I'm crazy. Reasonably so, as I just licked his finger.

"Let's pretend like that wasn't weird," I whisper.

"We're pretending like a lot of things aren't weird lately."

I shrug. Whatever could you be talking about?

"Check this entire building. I want anyone and everyone you find to be on that bus to camp," a woman announces.

Then the door knob rattles. Shit. I look over to him to see the same panicked look as mine on his face.

Camp?!

"We need to get the hell out of here." He grabs my hand and leads us down a hallway to a metal door.

"After you," he pushes open the door.

The door ends up leading to the parking lot. Out of habit, I head to his car, but then I realize I came in mine. He really is the chauffeur.

"I—"

"We'll regroup at my house," he calls.

"Okay," I whisper. I slam my door and hit the gas. I don't even pay attention to the road, and by the magic of fate, I'm at his house.

Once I park, I catch a breath. It feels like the first breath I've taken since those officers stormed the place.

Then the hyperventilating starts. What the hell just happened? Were they taking them to prison? Is that what they meant by "camp"? What if we had been captured? Something is fishy about this. What was the crime? What if that group is really a gang, using anti-Reversal ideas as a front? My short breaths feel like I'm not taking any. Why does it feel so hard to breathe?

The car door opens.

I sharply turn to see Shawn. I guess he's just pulled up after me.

"Was I gonna be turned into a drug mule?," I ask frantically.

"Are you crazy?"

"I think we've established the answer to that. What was the crime then?"

"You think they need a crime?," he asks with sharp rhetoric. "They probably found out about the group," he runs his hand through his hair.

"And so they captured them. To take them back to camp? What the fuck is camp?"

"The education camps. Have you not heard of them?," he asks in disbelief. "God, you're mom works for the people that implemented these policies. Anyone that falls out of line is sent to these camps, and you mean to tell me you've never heard of them?"

"I've only heard of the correctional facilities for people who undermine the—oh, I see," I scratch my neck. This is a tricky situation.

"If you had been caught, you'd get a slap on the wrist, and your mom would bail you out. It's not so easy for the rest of us."

"What about Andrew?"

"He'll be fine. As long as he doesn't tell anyone about your being there, he'll probably be back to normal once they notify his parents. If he didn't escape," he shrugs.

"This really fucking scared me."

"Me too."

I get out and put my arms up to hug him. He slowly steps back.

"Hey, you don't have to act tough. Join me in this hug. It would honestly help my anxiety."

He rolls his eyes, "Fine. Just because you're weird."

"You like that I'm weird."

"Whatever."

We stay in this embrace for a while and time flies.

After what feels like forever, he pulls back and looks into my eyes, "What the hell are we gonna do?"