Glitch

next week in local Sector Six dispensary. Continuing water
    shortages in Sector Three. Chancellor Supreme of Sector Five visits to
    discuss trade agreements. Beware anomalies: an anomaly observed is
    an anomaly reported. Order fi rst, order always.
    Anomalies. They were talking about me. Glitching meant
    something was broken inside me. I’d remembered seeing
    other subjects behave anomalously before. One time at the
    Academy a girl had started screaming uncontrollably, leak-
    ing water from her eyes. The Regulators spotted her and
    dragged her away and she came back the next week in com-
    plete working order. Better than new. If I reported myself,
    they would just fi x the anomaly. I should report myself and
    get fi xed. I needed to be fi xed.
    But then again— another memory fl oated to the surface—
    there was the other boy, the one who’d been taken away
    several times for anomalous behavior. I could still see his
    face, see him screaming and running. The Regulators had
    chased him down, tackled him to the ground. They’d broken
    his nose and there was so much blood . . .
    The memory came with a jolt of fear, bursting temporar-
    ily through the solid Link barrier that kept my emotions si-
    lenced. I almost gasped, only barely managing to suppress it
    at the last moment. This had never happened before. Nor-
    mally once the Link had taken complete control, I felt and
    thought nothing until I glitched again days or weeks later.
    Inside I fl ailed in panic, trying desperately to keep every
    muscle twitch, every shift of my eyes completely under
    9

    Heather Anastasiu
    control as the fear pulsed through me. I didn’t dare turn
    my head, but I looked around as discreetly as possible at the
    people near me in line. The small aluminum circle under the
    skin of my chest, my heart and vitals monitor, vibrated slightly
    in response to my increased heart rate.
    The subjects nearby hadn’t noticed the buzzing—
    they
    were too zoned out to the Link— but I knew that if I didn’t
    get my panic under control immediately, the monitor would
    start a loud beeping alarm, alerting the huge crowds of Mar-
    ket Corridor that I was anomalous, possibly defective. The
    Regulators I had passed moments before would drag me
    away. Would I be like the girl, and come back all fi xed and
    never glitch again? Or would I be like the boy, and never
    come back at all? The questions only made the panic rise
    higher.
    The Link News had ended and another three rising tones
    sounded to initiate the Community Creed. I took a deep
    breath and mentally repeated along with it: The Community
    Link is peace. We are Humanity Sublime because we live in Com-
    munity and favor above all else order, logic, and peace. Community
    fi rst, Community always.
    I repeated the creed over and over again in my mind to
    lose myself in the soothing dullness of repetition. I blinked
    slowly and tried to slow my heartbeat to match. I’d prac-
    ticed this. I could do this. My face remained still, though a
    bead of sweat started to slide down the side of my face.
    If I triggered the monitor, it would be recorded at Central
    Systems. Individual anomalies were not usually cause for an
    10

    G L I TC H
    immediate removal, since heart- monitor alarms were more
    often caused by pain than malfunctioning hardware. Pain
    was one thing we were still able to feel, because it was neces-
    sary to safety; otherwise alloy workers would burn their
    fi ngers off by touching a hot kiln and not feeling it. But
    repeated malfunctions, or a single clearly anomalous event,
    would have any subject taken away. A malfunction in such
    a public arena, where I was clearly not in pain, would defi -
    nitely count as a single clearly anomalous event.
    I repeated the mantra over and over, holding my breath
    and focusing on relaxing my facial muscles as carefully as I
    could without drawing attention. It seemed to take hours,
    but eventually I felt the vibration of my heart monitor slow,
    and then go still. Fear was replaced by relief. I didn’t know
    how close I had gotten to setting off the alarm, and I didn’t
    want to know. The sudden small crack that had opened in
    my mind with the rush of fear began to close, slowly shut-
    ting off sensation and returning me to the safe embrace of
    the Link.
    “Subject,” said a voice gently behind me, “move forward.”
    I looked up. The line had moved ahead but I’d stayed
    still, focusing on the Community Creed. I hurried forward,
    giving a glance