I searched for a comeback, something that would cut into him the way his words cut me. "Oh, and you're a big somebody? Look at you. Stealing from your parents." But even I could hear the weakness of my reply. It wasn't the words, it was the delivery.

He turned and looked at me, his nostrils flaring and his upper lip pulled up like I even smelled bad. "Grow up, Locke."

He didn't search the rest of the house, just grabbed an apple from a bowl on the counter and left.

I had a whole afternoon to stew, but I tried to slough it off. He was a jerk. A deadbeat. No brother of mine. I tried to turn my thoughts back to Kara and Jenna and what we could do that night. I wanted to take charge for once. So later, when I overheard my sister writing down directions to a party that sounded wild--and maybe just a little out of our league--I paid attention. This was something that would impress Jenna and Kara, and maybe my brother too. My sister ended up not going to the party. But because of me, Kara and Jenna did.

Chapter 31

At this speed, the landscape changes rapidly. We've passed through forests and small towns that, at least from a distance, don't look much different from the towns I knew. We passed one large city that Dot said was Columbus. Again, like Boston, it was surrounded by a bird's nest of transgrids. When I ask if all cities have this grid work around them now, Dot tells me no, only the larger cities that were frequent targets during the long Civil Division.

I had already forgotten about the division of the country into two nations, and now I worry about the problems that may pose in our travel. "Will we have to cross any borders?"

Miesha and Dot both glance in the mirror at me.

"Borders?" Dot asks.

"There are no borders," Miesha says.

"I thought there was a Civil War and there were two countries now."

"There are. But everyone chooses which country to be a citizen of. You can change once every eight years."

"Unless you're a Non-pact," Dot says. "Once a Non-pact, always a Non-pact. Just like Bots."

"No," Miesha corrects her. "Non-pacts are not just like Bots. They were once full citizens." I note the immediate edge in her voice. She and Dot forget about me and begin correcting each other on the particulars of the Division. I already knew Dot was well versed in a lot of subjects for the purpose of entertaining tourists in her cab, but I have to wonder why Miesha knows or cares so much about historical details when she is tight-lipped about so many subjects. Between the two of them, I learn that the Division was not along regional lines the way the first Civil War was, but along philosophical lines. After years of civil unrest and violence, two new countries were established. But it was more like a divorce, and citizens could choose the parent country of their choice no matter where they lived. A few citizens would not conform to the new "pact" and refused to choose. They were labeled Non-pacts and excluded from all public services, which included education. Some of the Non-pacts were wealthy and could afford private education at first, but eventually their businesses all suffered and they became the invisible poor.

"They have the opportunity to become citizens, though," Dot says.

"How?" Miesha asks. "They can't go to school, and with no education, they can't pass the exams, not to mention pay the fees. And maybe some of them still think it should only be one country instead of two."

"Is that what you think, Miesha?" I ask.

She frowns like she is annoyed that I have entered the conversation between her and Dot and then turns away, looking out the window to her right. "It doesn't matter what I think."

She's wrong. I have a fabricated body. I am in a world that is completely different from the one I was born into. What I think is all I have left. My mind is the only thing that makes me different from a fancy toaster. What we think does matter--it's all we truly have. But I know the conversation is over.

Up ahead in the far distance a glimmer of yellow in the flat landscape catches my attention and I think we are approaching wheat fields. But then I wonder--it's spring and too early for golden wheat. As we get closer, I see sharp glints of light sparkling on its surface. It is not wheat. The yellow glimmer grows in mass and extends to the horizon. It looks like it will swallow us up if we stay on this path. In a matter of moments, we are in the middle of it, the transgrid speeding above a vast yellow pond with millions of white sticks protruding at close regular intervals from it, like plant stakes, except there are no plants. The stench is immediate.

"My God, what is that smell?"

"Sorry!" Dot says. "Forgot about you Breathers." She touches a few lights on the panel, and the air in the cab becomes clear and breathable again.

"Are those algae ponds?" Miesha asks.

"You've never seen them?" Not that I have, but I at least knew about them and had seen some Vgrams that showed the process of creating algae-based fuels. I just didn't realize how enormous the ponds were--or how smelly.

"I've never been out this way," Miesha answers.

"But didn't you learn about them in--"

School. They can't go to school, and with no education, they can't pass the exams. Is Miesha a Non-pact? Like one of those land pirates? Is that why she's so secretive? I don't finish my sentence, and she lets it drop too. But she has to know what I'm thinking.

I shift in my seat. The cab is small, fine for short trips around the city, but for long stretches like this, I feel all six feet, three inches of me, especially since my jaw still throbs and the gash in my side sends shooting pains through my back and chest every time I move. Dot's doctor didn't work wonders, but at least I'm not tasting blood in my mouth any longer. I work to hide my pain as I change positions. I don't want any suggestions that we stop for a rest. When I'm with Kara, there will be plenty of time for that--maybe six hundred years' worth of resting. We pass over the last algae field, and I lean forward. "How much longer?"