Free The Indifference League by Richard Scarsbrook Page A

here? My parents were right. I don’t belong in the suburbs, no matter how cheap the rent. I really need to get out of here.
    Like, now.
    She breathes in slowly, and then she calls The Statistician.

9

    THE REBEL ALLIANCE
    â€œShe’ll make point five past light speed. She may not look like much, but she’s got it where it counts, kid.”
    â€” Han Solo, about his spaceship The Millennium Falcon , to Luke Skywalker, from the movie Star Wars , 1977
    â€œW ow,” says The Statistician as he peers into the blackened engine compartment of Hippie Avenger’s inherited Microbus, “How many miles does this thing have on it? Five hundred thousand? A million?”
    â€œI don’t know,” Hippie Avenger says. “The mile-counter thingy has flipped over so many times that …”
    â€œThe odometer, you mean.”
    â€œThe mile-counter thingy, yeah.”
    â€œWow,” The Statistician says again. “I can’t believe this old engine still runs.”
    Hippie Avenger glances at The Statistician and Time Bomb’s shimmering black Cadillac Escalade SUV, and then at the sad-eyed cartoon animals on the PLEASE DON’T POLLUTE OUR WORLD sticker on the front fender of the old VW.
    â€œNot all of us can afford to drive the Death Star,” she says.
    â€œHey, a Star Wars reference!” The Statistician cheers. “Good for you!”
    When he was a kid, Star Wars was The Statistician’s favourite movie, despite its obvious scientific flaws, like Han Solo referring to a parsec as a unit of time rather than distance, or all of those fiery explosions in the oxygen-free void of space. He and The Drifter, with their officially licensed action figures and plastic spacecraft, used to stage epic sagas on the top bunk in their shared bedroom.
    The Statistician fastens the jumper cable clamps onto the terminals of the VW’s ancient battery, and says, “If our SUV is the Death Star, then your Microbus is an X-Wing fighter.”
    â€œI don’t know what that means,” Hippie Avenger admits. She suspects that she has just been insulted, but she isn’t sure, since she’s never seen Star Wars , despite being made to feel as if the space saga was somehow her own generation’s Woodstock.
    â€œThe Empire,” Statistician explains, “were the bad guys. They had the big, expensive, technologically advanced Death Star. The Rebel Alliance, on the other hand, flew rickety, outdated, patched-together old X-Wing fighters.”
    â€œAnd the people in the Rebel Alliance were, like, the good guys?”
    â€œIndeed. Here on Earth, Luke Skywalker would be driving your Microbus into battle. And he would probably vote for the Green Party, too.”
    Hippie Avenger smiles. So he meant it as a compliment. With The Statistician, she is never sure.
    He taps a knuckle on the faded “Reduce, Reuse, Recycle” sticker affixed to the front bumper of the Microbus between the “Impeach Nixon!” and “Free Leonard Peltier” decals.
    â€œAnd,” he continues, “in addition to being the good guys, the Rebels were being environmentally conscious by reusing old space fighters, instead of wasting precious raw materials building new ones.”
    Hippie Avenger’s smile disappears. “Are you mocking me?”
    â€œNo! This is one of the few bumper stickers on your van that I agree with. The Earth has finite resources, so we can’t go on digging and burning them up infinitely .”
    â€œThen why the friggin’ Battleship Escalade ?”
    â€œIt’s hers, not mine.” The Statistician says, gesturing toward the sleeping Time Bomb, whose face is pressed against the passenger window of the enormous SUV. “I usually just take the subway to the university, but she refuses to use public transit at all — too many ‘allergens and toxins’ in the air, apparently.”
    He raises the long, heavy hood on