Free The Slippery Map by N. E. Bode

said. “It comes from those.” He pointed to the distant skyline. Towering smokestacks puffed white clouds. “They’re not spouting as much as usual because of the holiday, but you watch: tomorrow the workers for the morning shift will file in—the whole town almost—and the powdered sugar will be snowing down day and night.”
    In the white clouds, Oyster read a blue sign: ORWISE SUSPAR AND SONS REFINERY.
    â€œDark Mouth runs it. He is one of Orwise Suspar’s sons—the only Suspar remaining,” Hopps whispered; and he glanced over his shoulder in the opposite direction, where a valley of dark woods stood before the Pinch-Eye Mountains. On the very top, Oyster couldsee a huge torch, a fire burning, smoke furling into the sky. “That’s where he lives. As long as the Torch is lit, he’s alive and rules over us.”
    â€œAs long as he’s alive…,” Ringet repeated.
    â€œNot now,” Hopps said. “Goggles.” He peered around. “This way.” He started off toward the valley, and the others followed along. Hopps muttered under his breath, “Spies! Traitors! Those Goggles used to be on our side during the Foul Revolution, but now they’ve gone over to Dark Mouth.”
    â€œThey’ll be in the alleys today,” Ringet said. “Happy Fig Days, they’re afraid of us rising up! And we could rise up, you know! We could!”
    â€œStop it, Ringet. You’d never have the courage to rise up!”
    â€œNot true! I would if everyone else would!”
    â€œThat’s just the problem,” Hopps said.
    The Perths all seemed to be in a rush. They were yelling to one another to hurry and dodging into their small row houses.
    â€œWhere are they all going in such a hurry?” Oyster asked.
    â€œIt’s nearly six. Time for the Vince Vance Show ,” said Ringet. “Perths can’t get enough of the ‘Home Sweet Home’ campaign.”
    â€œBrainwashing!” said Hopps. “It’s all Brainwashing!Television belongs to Dark Mouth. Don’t let anyone tell you different!”
    â€œI think Vince Vance is very funny,” Ringet said gingerly. “And ‘Home Sweet Home’ programming is nice.”
    â€œNice isn’t what we need,” Hopps said.
    Oyster saw a small troop of Goggles who seemed to be staring at him from under boarded-up marquees. He looked away as fast as he could, afraid one might lock eyes on him and freeze him like in The Figgy Shop. He saw more of them peering out of windows from an office building, another group squatting by a gutter grate. “Hopps,” he whispered.
    Hopps didn’t stop. His wheels kept bumping along the brick path. “What is it?”
    â€œGoggles. They’re everywhere.”
    Ringet swept his head around. “He’s right. There are too many of them. They’re waiting for someone. They’re going to pounce!”
    â€œIppy’d know how to handle them,” Ringet said.
    â€œWho’s Ippy?” Oyster asked.
    â€œShe is the daughter of your parents’ best friends. Your parents—the high leaders—were best friends with two Perths, Fertista and Pillian. You and Ippy were both born during the Foul Revolution. Your parents lived and hers didn’t. She lives mostly underground,” Ringet explained. “You know about her?”
    Oyster shook his head. “No.”
    â€œOf course not!” Ringet told himself. “How could he know about Ippy?”
    â€œShe’s my age?” Oyster asked.
    Ringet nodded.
    Oyster wondered if Ippy would be his first real friend, someone his own age, someone he could tell secrets to, confide in. Just then a Goggle lifted his head in the air, nostrils tensing in the breeze.
    â€œIt’s us!” Oyster whispered, nodding toward the Goggles. “They know you have the Slippery Map.”
    â€œThey don’t know,” Hopps told