The trip home was awkward for Rena, and lunch with her family was filled with long periods of silence. Clarine attempted to start several conversations. Marshall had a hard time pretending he wasn't still upset. Afterward, Rena took a walk around her neighborhood to clear her mind. Then she spent the early afternoon playing with Gareth and Suzanne. By late afternoon, the mood in her house seemed to have improved. Rena's parents began acting normal again, and Rena remembered that she was supposed to be trying a different approach. Instead of wasting her weekend, she should be voting like other responsible young adults.

"Mom, where's the ex?" she called to the kitchen.

"It should be charging in the office."

Rena pushed herself up from the living room floor, where she'd been coloring a picture with Gareth. "Can you finish my part?"

"Yeah," Gareth said, grabbing the marker Rena had been using.

Rena walked down the hall, turning into Marshall's office. Fortunately, it was empty. Marshall was helping Clarine in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for dinner. It would be best if Rena could avoid any significant conversations for the rest of the day. If she didn't talk, she couldn't say anything upsetting.

The exterminal was on Marshall's desk, sitting on its charging pad where Clarine said it would be. There were only two exterminals in the house—the one embedded into the surface of Marshall's desk and the portable one Rena and Clarine used. It was a small rectangle of glass, with rounded edges, no bigger than the palm of her hand. She grabbed it and headed straight for her room, closing her door for privacy.

She sat down on her bed and placed the exterminal on her nightstand. As she touched the power button, she noticed her rating had dropped to 011 again. Sunday afternoon was the most active voting time of the week. The majority of Esh's citizens were home from consensus and freshly motivated to make an impact on society. If they weren't working or attending school, their voting was what allowed them to maintain or improve their ratings. Rena often skipped this duty. It wasn't until the middle of the school week that her number usually recovered.

The surface of the exterminal began to glow. The holographic interface for the Collective appeared in the air above it—a soft, blue image of concentric circles and intersecting radial lines that called to mind both Esh's layout and the way in which citizens were all connected to each other.

"Hello, Rena. How may I help you?" asked a deep, soothing voice. The verbal interface was one of Rena's preferences that she'd set up years ago, as well as its tone. She'd chosen one that sounded like the man from her visions. It made her feel safe.

"I would like to vote," she answered.

"Here is your voting history," said the voice at the same time as a list of topics appeared.

She preferred the text listings over icons or images because they were easier to review when there was a lot of information. Although in Rena's case, there weren't many entries. She didn't vote on enough issues to make reviewing data difficult. The only entries were her associations and a few older topics from months ago.

"Would you like to review any of these topics?"

"Yes. Associations," she said.

The list updated to show the names of her family members, her friends, and Dr. Mallory, who was her only professional association.

"Which association would you like to review?"

"Marshall, Clarine, Gareth, Suzanne, Dal, and Dr. Mallory."

"How would you like to rate these associations?"

"Positive," Rena answered.

"Thank you for your participation," said the voice. The names disappeared from the list, inaccessible for the next twenty-four hours.

Rena stared at the remaining name—Kirti Vasu. The orange text indicated that Kirti had already deleted her friend association to Rena. But there were two sides to every association in the system, and Rena could choose to keep hers if she wanted to continue rating Kirti ... negatively or positively. It was an aspect of the system that encouraged citizens to settle their disputes, and to do so in person.

"Would you like to rate this association?"

"No. Delete Kirti."

"This association has been deleted." The name disappeared. Then the voting history reappeared. "Which topic would you like to review?"

Rena scanned the list and settled on one near the top. "Adoption."

The adoption topic opened to another list of choices—agencies, personnel, pros and cons, and statistics.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"Agencies," she answered.

Another list appeared—by segment, by specialty, pros and cons, and statistics.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"By segment."

Twelve entries appeared, one for each of Esh's major sections.

"Which—"

"Segment Eight," Rena instructed.

A list of letters from A to D appeared, one for each of the four adoption agencies in Segment Eight.

"Agency C." It was where she'd lived before Marshall and Clarine found her.

The list updated again to show the choices of facility, personnel, process, and statistics.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

This time Rena hesitated long enough for the voice interface to repeat its question in full. She stared at the list, not feeling particularly interested in any of the choices. This was one of the reasons why she didn't pay much attention to the constant and numerous recommendations to get informed. Teachers always wanted her to have an opinion about things that didn't matter to her.

How can any citizen possibly care about everything?

This was probably why Dr. Kalmus advised her to pick just one topic.

"Would you like more information on one of these topics?" asked the voice.

"No," Rena answered, glancing up at the ceiling. She remembered what it had been like inside the agency after the police had taken her there. Sleeping in a large room with so many other children. "Facility."

The list updated to the topics of interior and exterior.

"Interior."

Within the interior facility topics were the choices of design and furnishings, electrical, heating and cooling, lighting, and plumbing.

Rena took a deep breath and let it out through pursed lips.

This is monotonous! Why do there have to be so many choices?

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"Design and furnishings," she answered. Then she made the next two selections quickly, before the voice had a chance to say anything. "Statistics. Rating."

Finally, she'd drilled down far enough through the topics to locate some actual information. It appeared the facility for agency 8D had a 62% positive rating of its interior design and furnishings. That seemed higher than Rena remembered, but it had been a long time since she'd viewed this information.

"Would you like to refine this rating by the following criteria?"

The information updated to show more choices—by age group, by residence, and by occupation.

"No," Rena answered. She didn't care how the agency's rating differed within those categories. "Go back to design and furnishings. Vote."

"How would you like to rate this agency's design and furnishings?"

Rena remembered the sleeping room as being dark and scary, but the average was higher now. Maybe they had made improvements? "Positive."

"Thank you for your participation."

Rena looked at her hand. It still read 011. With so many people voting, she'd have to make quicker selections if she wanted to do better than just maintain her number. "Go back to Adoption."

The list updated to the higher-level information she'd viewed earlier.

"Pros and Cons."

The next round of choices appeared. Pros—helping children, helping birth mothers, helping adoptive families. Cons—long and challenging process, credits and emotional costs, challenging children.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

Rena rubbed her eyes. Her vision was starting to blur from the overwhelming amount of information. No one has the capacity for all of this! How am I supposed to stay informed on the things I care about, let alone everything else?

"Would you like more information on one of these topics?" asked the voice.

"Rena. Time for dinner," came Clarine's muffled voice from the kitchen.

"OK," Rena yelled back. Apparently she had been at this for much longer than she thought.

"On which topic would you like more information?" asked the voice.

"No. I wasn't talking to you," Rena said.

"I do not understand your request."

Rena let out another quick exhale. How can I do this more efficiently?

"Would you like more information on one of these topics?" asked the voice again.

"Open all adoption topics and subtopic statistics."

The information became a long list of topics with percentages at the end of each one.

"Which topic would you like to review?"

"Select all topics," Rena tried.

"I do not understand your request. Which topic would you—"

"Vote all positive."

"I am unable to fulfill your request, because the pros and cons for each topic have not been reviewed. Which pros and cons would you like—"

"Switch to manual input method," Rena said.

The information list was suddenly populated with holographic buttons next to the ratings of each topic. She went down the list, looking only at the percentages. If they were above 50%, she pressed the thumbs-up button. If below, she pressed the thumbs-down.

"Rena! Dinner is on the table!" yelled Marshall.

"Coming."

She'd only managed to get through about fifteen votes, but she could always pick this up again after dinner. She reached out and pressed the power button, shutting down her connection to the Collective. The rating on the back of her hand was now 012.

o

Suzanne was crying from somewhere far away. There were other voices too. And footsteps. All muffled. It took every bit of Rena's strength to open her eyes. She was in her bedroom, lying facedown on her bed.

013.

That was the number on the hand in front of her face. It was significant somehow, but she couldn't think why.

"Rena, you're going to be late," Clarine said as her footsteps retreated down the hall outside her door.

Rena pushed herself up to a seated position and rubbed her eyes.

More footsteps sounded, but this time they were approaching, followed by a knock at the door. "Rena?"

"I'm up," she mumbled.

The door opened and Clarine peeked her head in. "Honey, you're going to be late for school."

"OK. I just ..." she began, running her fingers through her hair.

Clarine suddenly inhaled. "Your number!"

"What?" Rena's heart lurched, fatigue giving way to panic. Then she looked at her hand again. "Oh ... yeah."

"Is that why you're so tired?"

The thumping in her chest was slowing down. "I was up late, voting."

Clarine smiled and leaned on the doorway.

"What's going on?" asked Marshall from behind her. A second later, his head came into view. He was dressed for work and holding a cup of coffee.

"Rena's back up to thirteen."

Marshall stepped closer and opened Rena's door all the way. "That was fast. What were you voting on?"

"Adoption."

Marshall smiled as his eyes drifted to the exterminal on her nightstand. "It's great to see you applying yourself, but don't be late for school or it won't matter."

"You don't want to waste all that hard work," Clarine added.

"OK."

Marshall and Clarine backed out of the room and shut the door.

Rena climbed out of her bed and went to her closet. As she changed out of her pajamas, her body moving sluggishly, she realized this was the first weekend in months when she hadn't gone out to the Barrens. Or even the Outskirts. Those fog-covered fields usually captured her imagination and made her wonder about what was beyond them. And wandering through the old buildings made her think about the past. Time seemed to stand still when she was out there on the edge of the city. Perhaps that was why this weekend had passed so quickly. There had been no time to let her mind wander. No time to think about anything but the present.

When she was dressed and ready for school, Rena grabbed the exterminal off her nightstand and walked down the hall to her dad's office. Marshall was sitting at his desk, reviewing some images of a factory on the Collective. She set the exterminal back on its charging pad and turned to leave, but the factory images reminded her of the Outskirts, and she felt a question stirring in her mind. She hesitated to ask it. Her questions had a way of ruining things. But this one wasn't like the others. It wasn't the start of an argument, or a critical observation of society. It came from a simple, honest curiosity.

"Dad?"

"Huh?"

"When was Esh built?"

Marshall turned around in his chair and shrugged. "A long time ago. Why?"

"Decades, or centuries?"

He set down his coffee mug. "I don't know ... exactly. But you could look it up on the Collective."

"OK." Rena nodded and was about to leave again when another question popped into her head. "And how big is the city?"

Marshall's lips flattened into a strange expression he often made when pondering something. "I think we're just over two and a half million citizens ... but I haven't checked the—"

"No. I mean ... size."

"Like square kilometers?"

"Yeah."

Marshall shook his head slowly. "I'm not sure. But you could look that up too. Are you interested in civil operations?"

Rena wasn't thinking in terms of Esh's layout or construction as much as its history, but she nodded anyway.

"Oh, that reminds me ..." Clarine said from the kitchen across the hall. "Your father and I are going to an adoption meeting at the community hall on Wednesday night, so you'll be on your own for dinner."

"That's fine."

Marshall crossed his arms, but the look in his eyes wasn't suspicious. It was something else that Rena couldn't place. "You know, community halls all across the city host discussions every weeknight. If you're interested, I could check the schedules and find out if there's one on civil operations?"

"Yeah. Sure."

Marshall smiled. "I know ... I said I didn't want you going out on weeknights anymore. But if it's for a good cause, I'm willing to make an exception. You can go after your sessions with Dr. Mallory."

Rena nodded. "Thanks, Dad."