Glitch

again.
    My mom is . . . well, she’s a mom. She worries. And she al-
    ways gets more ner vous than usual when we come back this
    way. She grew up out here.”
    “In the Re sis tance? I mean, the Rez?”
    “No.” Adrien shook his head. “She grew up like you—
    under V-chip control, in the Community.”
    I could feel my eyes widen. “Really? How did she es-
    cape?”
    “She started glitching. Hers was the fi rst generation we
    know of that had some who were Gifted. Still, it was rare.
    My dad . . .” He paused. I couldn’t read the expression on
    his face— it looked like a mixture of pride and sadness at the
    same time. “They had some Rez in for mants in the schools.
    One of them noticed her. Dad got her out and then they just
    kinda fell in love.”
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    Heather Anastasiu
    “Fell in love?” I frowned. “Love makes you fall?”
    He laughed a little. He paused, looking up toward his
    brain, something I noticed he did when he was thinking.
    “It’s just a saying. It means that two people start loving each
    other. I guess because it can feel really sudden and because
    it’s powerful. Like gravity— an unstoppable force.”
    “Love is like gravity?” I was still puzzling out the con-
    cept. “It sounds violent.”
    He laughed and nodded. “But in a good way.”
    I was amazed. I’d read so many confusing things about
    emotions in the history archives, but love was the most con-
    fusing of all. A thrill prickled as I realized I was actually
    talking to someone who’d really experienced all of these
    confusing emotions and could help me understand.
    “Have you ever fallen? In love, I mean?”
    He laughed again but it sounded diff erent, higher pitched
    than normal. He shifted in his seat. “I’ll get back to you on
    that one.”
    I nodded. I guessed not even someone who was born out-
    side of the Community could know everything. We were
    quiet a few moments, but it was a comfortable quiet. Silence
    usually meant I was glitching, which meant I was separate and
    all alone, but this was strange— it was a together kind of
    quiet. I studied Adrien’s profi le, his long face and the triangle
    shadows underneath his sharp cheekbones.
    “Can you tell me more about the Rez?”
    He looked at me, a small smile on his face.
    “I suppose now that you’re here, you’ll probably meet
    some of them soon. And other Gifteds, like us. Some of us
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    G L I TC H
    were born out here, outside of the Community, and others
    escaped. There’s plenty of people out here in hiding, on the
    run, out on deserted land or in abandoned buildings. Not
    everyone’s in the Rez. Me and Mom, we were on our own
    for a while. She didn’t want anything to do with the Rez,
    not that she’ll tell me why. I think she had some vision of
    it.” His smiled ebbed as he looked in the direction she’d left.
    “Anyway, I got tired of living on the run instead of fi ght-
    ing back. When my Gift started coming in, I dunno.” He
    shrugged. “For me, it’s like I knew life was supposed to be
    bigger— that I was supposed to be doing something more.
    With the things I’ve seen— the drone labor in the mines,
    not to mention the farms—”
    He shuddered. “I just knew that a gift like mine meant,
    I dunno,” he looked up, “it meant that I had a responsibility
    to use it well.”
    I knew so little about the world he had seen, but his feel-
    ings connected with something deep inside me, a sharp pang
    of recognition that spread a warmth through me.
    “Duty,” I said, nodding slowly. “Duty is important.” It
    was something we were taught in the Community. A wave
    of guilt swept through me. Just yesterday I had thought duty
    meant turning myself in to the Regulators. Now I didn’t
    know what to think.
    Adrien seemed to sense my confusion.
    “Duty is important when you’re working for something
    worthwhile,” he amended.
    “But how do you tell the diff erence?” I frowned. “Good
    and bad look the same sometimes.”
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    Heather Anastasiu
    He shrugged. “You just gotta keep asking questions to
    fi nd out more. And then just follow your intuition. Your
    conscience.”
    “Conscience?”
    “Oh, right.” He sounded surprised, giving a small laugh.
    “I guess you wouldn’t know. It’s, uh, knowing the diff er-
    ence between right and wrong, good and bad. Your con-
    science is the part of you that makes you want to do good
    and help people.”
    I looked at him quizzically. “It’s part of me? Where?”
    He