Freedom Incorporated by Peter Tylee (me reader .txt) 📖

her body in a dam for some poor farmer to find two weeks later when the stench of her bloated corpse finally attracted his attention. But she still wasn’t exactly comfortable with her circumstances.

“And me Marie,” Mrs Sutherland said, sidling past the hand Jen was offering to welcome her with a brief squeeze and a firm kiss on each cheek. She’d decided that anyone travelling with her son deserved a proper reception.

Dan caught his parents’ insinuations and decided to correct their misapprehension right away. He hadn’t found someone after Katherine’s death. He never would. “She’s a business associate. We were in the area and thought we’d drop by.”

George Sutherland made a show of scouring the driveway. “How’d you get here?”

“Taxi,” Dan lied easily, delivering it with a smooth smile and a slap to his father’s back. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“Well you’ve done that.” Marie was wearing a floral dress. She wouldn’t have been caught dead wearing one as a girl but she thought it appropriate now that she was edging into her late sixties. “Come, come. You’re letting the insects in.”

“Wait a second,” Dan said seriously. “We’ve got something toxic on our boots.” His parents knew better than to ask how that had happened. They’d learned that lesson repeatedly in less amicable times. “We’ll ditch our shoes and meet you inside.”

George waved to the garage. “You know where everything is.” He beamed a smile, showing his white teeth. They were too white - obviously fake. “It’s good to see you again, son.”

“It’s good to see you too, pop.” Dan swatted at a moth that was trying to sneak inside with the smaller insects. “Go on, we’ll be in soon.”

Marie and George retreated into their warm nest while Dan tugged Jen by the sleeve to the far side of the house where some kind of vine was holding up several sheets of rotten lattice. “Take off your boots,” he said, already slitting his laces with a knife. “They have nanotoxin in the soles.”

Jen mutely obeyed, somewhat stunned by how normal his parents seemed. She wondered if they had any idea what he did for a living. They tossed both sets of boots into the garbage, quickly following them with Dan’s coat. “We’ll have to chuck the rest after a shower.”

“Then what will I wear?” Jen resisted the urge to run a hand through her unruly hair. She knew stray shards were lurking just beneath the surface.

“We’ll find you something,” Dan said, sounding calm. He guarded his tumultuous thoughts well. It was more discomforting than painful to face his parents again. They reminded him of long summer evenings sprawled on the patio with a mug of Marie’s glorious coffee, and innocent conversations about their goals and aspirations. Of course, Katherine was a star performer in those memories and it was difficult to be back in Albury without her. It amplified his emptiness. He’d become good at barring his personal feelings at work, but Jen had unwittingly torn down his defences and he felt unprepared for the psychological war he was waging.

“Come on.” Dan courteously held the door open and let Jen enter first.

Marie and George were waiting for them at the kitchen table. But Marie stood as soon as they entered and said, “Can I get you anything to drink?”

Dan knew he couldn’t leave immediately, that would just be cruel. And he hoped Jen had the good grace to behave while they were there; the last thing he wanted was to expose his parents to the harsh reality of his daily life. He wanted to shelter them from all that.

“I’d love some coffee.” Dan couldn’t stop a smile as he turned to Jen and said, “She makes the best coffee I’ve ever tasted. And I’m not just saying that because she’s my mother.”

Jen’s social instincts kicked in. She erased her cardboard expression, smiled, and replied, “Then I’d be delighted to try some, thank you Marie.”

Dan felt needle-like itches crawling across his skin and couldn’t bear the torment any longer. “Do you mind if we take a shower? We’ll need some fresh clothes too.”

George nodded. “Of course, go right ahead. Your old clothes are still where you left them.” He frowned at Jen, gauging her size. “I think some of Christine’s things are there too. You might be lucky and find something to fit Jen.”

“Thanks.” Dan whisked Jen into the cold half of the house; his parents hadn’t bothered heating it since their children had moved out.

“Wow, this place is huge.” Jen marvelled at the sheer size of the place and chocked on a string of swearwords when she reached the windowed door at the end of the corridor and peered into a room with a cathedral ceiling. By the faint sparkle of light, she saw the nine-metre indoor swimming pool, its surface as smooth as glass without a breeze to stir the water. “Your parents must be rich.”

“Actually, no.” Dan was rummaging through the cupboard in what had been his childhood bedroom. “They worked their whole lives to afford the payments on this place. They only fully repaid their loan a year ago so they’re still working to afford groceries and electricity.” He found a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, a flannelette shirt, and the only pair of shoes his size in the cupboard. They were an old pair of work boots, still splattered with paint. His sister’s stash of clothes wasn’t very extensive and Jen had to make do with a black skirt, which Christine had worn while briefly working as a waitress, and a sleeveless shirt that was two sizes too small. “You’ll have to go barefoot. Sorry.”

Jen shrugged. “That’s okay. It’s not the first time.”

“I’ll go first. If you want, you can talk to my parents.”

She declined, “Thanks, but I wouldn’t know what to say. I’ll just stay here.”

“I won’t be long.” Dan closed the door and the sound of streaming water soon filled the hall. He was finished in five minutes and emerged naked from the waist up, beckoning Jen to follow him into the steamy bathroom. Well toned muscles rippled across his chest, upper back and abdomen, and his exposed flesh made Jen uncertain whether he harboured dishonourable intentions. “Here,” he said, pressing a nit-comb into her hands, “I need you to brush my hair.” The comb had narrow slits, barely enough to fit a single strand of human hair. It would supposedly remove head lice from an infected person. “I couldn’t wash it properly with all that glass.”

Jen obediently ran the comb through his hair while he held his head over the basin. Tiny flecks of clear quartz chimed against the porcelain and vanished down the drain. She’d meticulously covered every inch of his head three times, with ample overlap, before declaring it contaminant-free.

“I’ll be out with my parents,” Dan said, snatching his shirts. “Just holler when you’re ready for me to brush yours, okay?”

She nodded and locked the door after he’d retreated from the room. A mirror covered one wall of the lavish bathroom and she gazed into her eyes. How did I get myself into this mess? She ran the water. It was pink, just as she’d expected. Water was expensive. Unpolluted water was particularly expensive. Hydro-Tech held a stranglehold on the water market and charged whatever they saw fit. People had little choice but to pay the ransom - everybody needed water. They added massive doses of chemicals to sterilise and disinfect it. Pollution made most surface water unviable for bathing, let alone drinking. The pink hue was Hydro-Tech’s designation for bath-grade water. Unless it was clear, it wasn’t fit for human consumption. Drinking water underwent additional purification phases to eliminate the toxins deemed harmful when ingested. A glassful cost about two Credits.

After a quick shower, she squeezed into the clothes Dan had given her, reluctantly going without her bra. Shards had woven into its fabric, making it too dangerous to wear. The stretched white material of her shirt provided scant protection from roaming eyes and she felt horribly exposed. She was almost too embarrassed to call for Dan’s help, but doubted she could untangle her knotty hair alone. When she finally worked up the nerve, she self-consciously folded her arms across her chest.

“I’ll find you something else to wear,” Dan said awkwardly and left to poke around for something more decent. He found another flannelette shirt. It was far too big for Jen, but it was definitely an improvement. “Here, put this on.”

She slipped into the oversized shirt. Oversized was just the way she liked it. Then she dutifully let him attack her hair with the nit-comb, wincing with every stroke. Jen had a particularly sensitive scalp and the jerking action of Dan’s inexperienced combing sent an aching numbness to the back of her skull. “Ouch! Watch it.”

“Sorry.” Dan combed more gently around her bump and swore under his breath as he battled the more frustrating knots. “Done,” he finally pronounced.

Jen looked at her strait, wet hair in the mirror and gently massaged her bruise.

“We should go soon. I don’t want to linger and get my parents into trouble.”

Jen nodded. “Sounds fair. So what do we do now?”

“Where do you hide your microchips?”

She dug into her bundle of clothes on the floor and extricated her chip selector.

“You got any in there you’ve never used before?” Dan eyed it hopefully.

She slowly shook her head. “The best I can do is one that I haven’t used for, uh, six weeks or so.”

“Okay, that’ll have to do. Use that one. We’ll portal to a station near your apartment, something that gets heavy traffic, like a supermarket or mall.” He had a distant look to his eyes and Jen wondered what he was thinking. “We’ll have to approach carefully and you’ll have to do exactly what I say, agreed?”

She nodded.

“Good. Let’s go.”

They said a brief farewell to Mr and Mrs Sutherland over what turned out to be a heavenly cup of coffee. Dan had to promise to stay in touch and the Sutherlands pestered Jen into accepting a tour of their sleepy little town when she had some time to whittle away. Hearty thanks and a quick flash later, they were standing in the Tweed Heads central mall, a few short kilometres from Jen’s apartment.

“I live over there,” she said once they’d left the lethargic bustle of tired workers who were scrounging for something quick but not necessarily nutritious they could nuke in a microwave. “On Boundary Street.” It was the northernmost tip of New South Wales, the street dividing Tweed Heads from Coolangatta in southern Queensland. They technically formed a single city - the councils merged in the summer of ‘35 - but neither side had been willing to lose their name, nor their identity, so Boundary Street still held some significance for the local population.

Dan pressed his lips together, annoyed with the humidity after spending only a few minutes in the heavy atmosphere. It always made him feel sticky and irritable. “All right, let’s go.” They strolled through the centre of town, not looking all that different from any number of love-struck couples that were on an evening walk.

A gaggle of seagulls squawked overhead just as Dan caught a whiff of ocean breeze. It revived him, bringing an unusual sense of calm that he couldn’t explain. It had a similar effect on Jen. She walked with more spring in her stride and stood with a confident posture.

“Tell me the second you see anything unusual,” Dan ordered when they turned onto her street and began climbing the hill. “Which one’s your apartment? Can you see it from here?”

“It’s on the other side of the street. You’re in Queensland now.” Jen motioned with a jerk