Free Infraction by Annie Oldham Page A

you
never had a tracker?”
    I swallow hard. The lies will start here, the lies
that I promised I would never tell again in the settlement or to
Jack. But lying to this woman with her severe bun and permanent
scowl feels like a good deed. I motion to my mouth.
    She purses her lips, and the expression cuts deep
lines into her jaw. “I know about your tongue. Don't be
condescending to me. I don't want you to forget for one moment that
I know more about what's going on here than you do.”
    That's what you think, I tell myself as I fold my
arms over my chest.
    “ Dr. Benedict?” The agent
gestures to me.
    Dr. Benedict stands and steps toward me with
something that looks too much like a dog collar for my taste. I
tense up and scoot back in my chair.
    “ It's okay, Terra.”
    The agent clears her throat when he says my name,
but he ignores her.
    “ This will help you speak. It just
goes around your neck, and it picks up the vibrations from your
vocal chords and throat and transmits the data to a speaker just
above the table.” He points and, sure enough, a small black box
hangs from the ceiling. “You won't sound like you, of course, but
you can make words.”
    I'll be able to speak? I relax a fraction as he
steps toward me again and wraps the collar around my neck,
positioning a small lump just over my adam's apple. It scratches
and presses uncomfortably against my throat, but he's being so
gentle with me. His fingers brush over the thin skin of my throat,
and his touch warms me. His careful hands remind me of Jack's.
Unexpectedly my eyes are burning, and I can't help wondering where
Jack is. Is he even still here?
    “ Worker 7456?” The agent's sharp
voice cuts through, and I snap my head up.
    How many times has she said it? Dr. Benedict
looks at me like I've been lost for several minutes. I look at my
hands.
    “ I said, why have you never had a
tracker?” She sits with her fingers poised over the tablet, ready
to make notations on every word I say.
    I look at Dr. Benedict—the only
thing resembling an ally I have here—and he nods slightly,
encouraging me. Of course he'd want me to answer. He's with them , isn't he? But he's so different.
Kind. I clear my throat, and the sound transmitted through the
speaker comes out robotic and harsh. I glance up and take a deep
breath.
    “ I was born in the wilderness.” It
isn't my voice. Dr. Benedict prepared me for this, though I
wasn't quite ready for how inhuman I would sound. My voice has all
the expression of a machine. Isn't that exactly what they'd like me
to be?
    The agent studies me, trying to divine the truth.
“So your parents had trackers?”
    I nod. I don't really want to hear that voice
again.
    “ Say the words.”
    I look down at my hands. My fingernails are peeling
from all the hot water in the cannery. “Yes, they had
trackers.”
    “ Did they have trackers when you
were younger or had they cut them out?”
    “ As far back as I can remember, they
had cut them out.” There. Now there is no way for her to somehow
search scanner records and find a way to track my fake parents down
and figure out who I really am.
    The agent smirks. “You know, I'm very good at
reading lies, Worker 7456.”
    I swallow and do my best not to flinch away from her
gaze. I need to be level; I need to stare unblinking back at her.
The burning in my eyes worsens. I'm so used to being silent that I
say nothing in return.
    She stares at me a second longer and then looks
down. “I see you had a flawless medical exam. Unusual.”
    Is it? My hands fall to my lap, and I pull at my
pants. There's a nervous pit growing in my stomach, telling me
there's more going on here than I'm aware of, hinted at by the way
the agent looks at her tablet, stares at me, glances once at
Dr. Benedict. He gives her a slight shake of the head. My
brain can't quite put all the pieces together, but I know there's
something very wrong.
    The agent folds her hands under her
chin, like she's trying to be