Free Children of Eden by Joey Graceffa Page B

begin to think that I can put the pieces back together. Not in exactly the same way, of course. But maybe, just maybe, even better.
    Is it Lark that makes me feel that everything isn’t as grim as it first seemed? Now that I’ve met a friend, shared my secret, anything seems possible.
    Not that I don’t have enough problems of my own to worry about, but somehow I keep thinking back to everything Lark told me about the supplies, the one-child policy, her vague theories about something being wrong with Eden. But what does that matter? The world is what it is—dead outside, alive in here—and I have to make the best life for myself given what I have. Whatever is going on in the government and supplies, or in the electronic heart of the EcoPanopticon, that’s not my problem.
    My heart slows to the point that I can have a real lookaround me. We’re walking briskly through the next entertainment ring. While the one nearest my house—the entertainment district closest to the Center—seemed loud and boisterous at the time, I can see now that by comparison with this ring it was quiet, civilized, and staid. There, people walked slowly, in orderly fashion, politely making way for one another. Here, they jostle and shove. There seem to be many more people. More security, too. Did Lark make a mistake going this way?
    â€œThey have other things to worry about,” she says when I express my concern. “Look over there.”
    I see a man standing on a small folding stool, head and shoulders above the crowd. Fragments of his impassioned speech reach me. “Dominion over land and sea, over the beasts of the Earth and the fish of the sea . . .” Few people seem to be paying him any attention. Most just walk by, but every once in a while someone stops to shout a curse, and once someone hurls soggy scraps of a sandwich at him. He keeps on declaiming with the burning eyes of a fanatic.
    â€œIdiot,” Lark says, scowling in his direction. “That’s the kind of thinking that got us here in the first place.”
    â€œWhat is the Dominion, exactly?” I ask. I’ve heard the term occasionally, but I only have the vaguest idea what it’s all about.
    â€œIt’s a cult, or a political movement, depending on who you talk to,” Lark said. “They believe that humans were meant to rule the Earth, and that destroying it was just part of the master plan.”
    â€œWhose master plan?” I ask.
    She shrugs. “They talk about a book written thousands of years ago that gives them permission to kill and destroy and conquer whatever they like. Far as I know, no one has ever seen or read this book, though. Now they mostly just spout off about how when the Earth is finally healed then peoplecan reclaim their rightful place at the top of the food chain, slaughtering animals and laying waste to the land.”
    I shudder. How could anyone actually think like that? I remember reading in Eco-history how in our distant past huge animals like cows and sheep were raised only to be killed and eaten. If a cow walked through Eden right now, every citizen would fall on their knees in amazement.
    Except for the Dominion members. They’d probably start slicing steaks.
    â€œBut the Dominion does have one thing right,” Lark said.
    â€œWhat’s that?” I ask nervously. I know that mere association with the Dominion carries a mandatory prison sentence.
    â€œHumans belong out in the world, not trapped in a prison city.”
    â€œBut Eden is the only reason we survive!” I say. “How could we live out there?” I gesture in the direction of the far edge of the city.
    Lark shrugs. “I didn’t say it was possible,” she says. “Only that’s where we belong. We’re part of nature, not this artificial paradise.”
    I look back at the proselytizer. “Why don’t they arrest him?”
    â€œOh, they will once