Glitch

whitewashed concrete tunnel
    and looked around. I was alone, so I let myself linger and
    look. The walls around me were concrete and aluminum, but
    I could suddenly see the slight diff erences in the colors and
    textures. I breathed in the dry smell of old paint and dust. I
    listened to the noise of my shoes and slight swish of my pants,
    echoing down the three- foot- wide tunnel. I looked left and
    right, but still there was no one else coming, so I trailed my
    fi ngertips along the rough walls of the tunnel, lingering on
    the cool aluminum of each housing- complex door as I passed.
    I lingered for a moment, but eventually I dropped my
    arms and squared my shoulders, posture- perfect, and passed
    through a small archway into the much wider subway access
    tunnel. Our housing grid was on Sublevel 2, almost level
    with the subway hub. Gray- suited subjects entered from other
    similar tributary tunnels and fell silently into line walking
    down the low- ceilinged tunnel.
    The clack of black- heeled shoes echoed off the concrete
    fl oor and walls of the tunnel, reminding me of the storm I’d
    seen almost two months ago. A pipe had burst and fl ooded
    the lower levels at my school and they’d moved us into one
    of the few Sublevel 0 rooms. We were at the top level just
    below the surface in a room with low ceilings. Sheets of
    toxic rain and ash crashed against the building. The Surface
    had only been an abstract idea before, but suddenly it felt far
    too real.
    21

    Heather Anastasiu
    Then came the thunder. It was my fi rst experience of
    terror— it was so much worse than fear. I’d backed away from
    the sound and massaged my seizing chest. My heart monitor
    went off for the fi rst time in public. I’d forced myself to calm
    down fast enough to avoid an immediate diagnostic, but only
    by hiding from the sound of the rain. I’d never wondered
    about the Surface again. It must be a terrifying place.
    I tried to dismiss the memory of the storm by losing my-
    self in the back- and- forth robotic pace of walking. I studied
    the back of the heads in front of me, trying to memorize
    every texture and color. It kept me busy for the half- mile of
    walking. I only realized we’d arrived at the subway when
    the people in front of me slowed down.
    I looked around the wide platform and the high concrete
    ceiling arching above the track. The openness of the subway
    tunnels always made me uncomfortable— the air always
    seemed a little thinner here, and I wondered just how closely
    the air quality was regulated in such a large chamber. The
    walls and ceiling arched over our heads about thirty feet up.
    People stood like statues as they waited for the train to
    take them to school or work— all except for one blond little
    girl who tugged on her mother’s hand. My eyes fl ickered
    uneasily to the Regulators standing near the back columns.
    The girl hopped around with exaggerated motions, giggling
    whenever her feet hit the concrete. Her actions looked com-
    pletely out of sync with her tiny starched gray suit. The sound
    of her feet and laugh echoed throughout the tunnel. I tried
    to memorize her features to draw later. She was so beautiful,
    so alive. Watching her made me feel light inside.
    22

    G L I TC H
    The learning texts referred to the Old World emotions as
    childish. Glitching happened from time to time with chil-
    dren because the V-chip hardware couldn’t always keep up
    with the rapid development of children. It was diffi
    cult to
    accomplish complete control. Too much V-chip control
    and the brain wouldn’t develop into adulthood correctly.
    Simply downloading information had turned subjects into
    vegetables— they’d been forced to deactivate them. The
    human neurons needed to stay active or the brain deterio-
    rated. That was why we still had to go to the Academy
    until we were ready for labor at eigh teen. Then we got our
    fi nal, adult V-chip, the chip that would control us and pro-
    tect us from glitches for the rest of our adult lives.
    The rumble of the train in the distance made everyone
    stand up straighter, more alert. I glanced at the clock on the
    wall and tried to move unobtrusively toward the front of
    the crowd. I’d be late to school if I didn’t catch this train. I
    couldn’t risk any anomalous behavior, anything to bring
    more attention to me. I accidentally bumped a man in the
    shoulder and he looked at me with too much interest. I
    slowed and made my face blank— nothing anomalous