Children of Eden Read Online Free

they are or what they want. Probably just someone from work.”
    Mom sighs in frustration at his optimism. “But why now, of all times? We should get him out of the house.”
    â€œHe’s a Center official,” Dad counters. “Why shouldn’t he be here? He could be my friend.”
    â€œNo, they might be watching him. If he’s involved in theblack market, we can’t afford to be linked to him. Not when we’re this close. They’ll get suspicious.”
    â€œThey’ll get more suspicious if we don’t open the door soon,” Dad says, rightly enough.
    â€œWhere’s Rowan? Did she make it to the basement?”
    â€œI don’t know, but she’s sensible enough to stay out of sight until one of us comes for her. Go have a drink and join us in a few minutes. If anyone sees your face now, they’ll know something’s wrong.”
    I hear the heavy tread of his feet as he goes to the front door. The living room is completely still now, and I can hear the sound of my own breathing again. For a moment I think Mom has left, her lighter step unheard. Then I hear a little scratching on the wall just outside my nook. She knows I’m here. Or she thinks I’m here.
    Gingerly, I scratch back, once, twice. I hear a gentle sigh from the other side, and I feel a love so overwhelming I would sit down if I had room. Dad has done whatever is necessary to keep me safe, but it’s always been Mom who let me know that everything she did, everything she sacrificed for me, was done out of love, not obligation or fear or necessity.
    She walks away with a deliberately heavy step so I will know she’s gone. Still, in this moment, because of her love, I don’t feel alone. I don’t feel trapped. I feel safe.
    But it isn’t long before my sense of safety evaporates entirely. I hear the clump of multiple pairs of boots, and though I can’t be entirely certain, I’d bet anything that they’re Greenshirts, the police force of Eden.
    Ash always makes a joke of the Greenshirts, telling me how they chase down kids who hijack the public lighting system to spell out rude words like teezak and koh faz , or break into the lichen gardens after hours with their girlfriends. Maybe the Greenshirts are benign to kids pulling childishpranks. But I know that they are really a deadly civil defense squad whose main purpose is to root out anything that goes against the survival mandates of the EcoPanopticon. And that’s pretty much the definition of me.
    Greenshirts patrol the streets and investigate any crimes that happen in Eden. They’re more heavily concentrated in the outer circles, far from the Center where people are poorer and more desperate. But they’re here in the inner circles, too. I’ve glimpsed them a couple of times from the top of the wall, stomping in black-booted pairs along the avenues. I always duck down quickly, and usually don’t risk popping my head up again for a few days after every sighting. I’ve never been spotted, though, by them or anyone else. No one on the streets ever looks up, and I confine myself to the uncertain light of dusk and dawn.
    Now there are almost certainly Greenshirts in my living room. What if they’re here for me? Did someone spot my peeking head after all and grow suspicious? Could Ash have been careless and let a word drop into the wrong ears? If they have discovered my existence, I am hopelessly, helplessly trapped. There is only one exit out of this hiding place, and simply squirming out would be a struggle. I wouldn’t have a hope of flight. I can picture their black boots waiting outside the grate, almost feel them grabbing me to drag me away to some awful, unknown fate . . .
    There’s some kind of bot with them, too. I hear the whir and beep of one of the smaller models. Is it a securitybot come to sniff me out? What is it doing here? Bots are nosy; they can be