others.
It was fragrant.
He didn’t know her name. Didn’t know if she meant anything to him or if she was real. He may have given up hope for escape, but he wasn’t able to expel hope concerning her, hope that she was real, hope that he meant something to her. When things were darkest it was hope that he would see her one day that warmed him.
But that was as far as he hoped. That was it.
He couldn’t look at Danny because he’d see the hope in his eyes. Danny needed to accept and understand where he was. This was the island. It was the end of the world. Home didn’t exist, not anymore. If he hoped to find something better, he would eventually look inside the needle. But the answer wasn’t in there.
But he would go inside. They all did.
Reed wasn’t disappointed when he did. Danny confirmed what he suspected. She’s in there, too.
It was harder to know that she was in there than suffering through the Haystack, knowing that if he took the needle he would find her. But he would have to stay strong. In his dreams, she told him to resist. She told him that someone would come for him and show him the way.
And then Danny appeared at the beach and he knew it. He just knew it. Maybe he was the one that would put an end to all the suffering. Maybe he would give them hope.
That was why he couldn’t look at him.
13
Class was in session.
About thirty of them in small desks arranged in tidy rows and the teacher discussing the world economy. He was propped on the corner of the desk. He was mostly bald and his bottom lip glistened when he took a moment to gather his thoughts.
Some of the guys in the back row were asleep, carefully hiding their faces behind the people in front of them. Danny was up front and had taken to doodling on a piece of lined notebook paper. It started out as a tapestry of curly lines, but then a face took shape in the middle of it all. First the eyes, then the petit nose. He began to darken the hair— “Danny Boy?” The teacher had crossed his arms, scowling over his glasses. “Art class is not today. I’ll advise you to join the discussion or I’ll be forced to report you to your Investor for tutoring.”
Danny folded the paper.
After a long, uncomfortable pause, the teacher continued in the same droning tone about the recent flash crash of the New York Stock Exchange. Millions of dollars were lost in a matter of moments. The market closed early that day and all trading suspended. A week later , the culprit was found: s ome dopey day trader that lived in his parents’ basement that hacked his way into the market and over reached.
“You don’t mess with money, boys,” the teacher intoned with a gurgle. He cleared his throat. “Money is power and it will find you.”
The teacher asked for questions. He was answered by the sound of soft snoring somewhere in the back but didn’t hear it. He had no idea why everyone started laughing.
“Okay, I understand this is not a stimulating topic,” he said, finally standing up with a grunt, “that’s why I got special permission to do an exercise today.”
Their interest piqued.
“We’re going to use tablets for our class discussion today.”
There was no buzz, no excitement. There was a fully-loaded game room in the next building, why would anyone care about a tablet?
The teacher unlocked a cabinet in the corner of the room. He pulled a box off the bottom shelf and slid it across the floor. The guys sleeping in the back continued sleeping. The others looked bored. Danny listened.
They were going to begin a business in a simulated program. It could be anything: services, goods, investing, whatever. All they had to do was show they could create a fake business that made fake money in the fake world inside the tablet and that would prove they had some understanding of economics.
A few of the guys started taking them out of the box. The teacher stopped them by holding up a knobby finger. “And remember, these tablets are not allowed