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“That would be hard.” Then a
thought jumped out at him and before he considered it, he had said
it, “Have you ever thought about what it would be like if we left
the city?”
    “You mean move to another city?”
    “No, I mean if we lived outside of the city.”
H662 knew he was walking on thin ice just mentioning the idea.
    “How could you even think such things?” she
said, suddenly awake now. She sat up. “How would we live? Where
would we go? We’d be like one of the Outcasts.” There was a wild
look in her eyes. A terror he had never seen before.
    “Would that be so bad? They are people too,
after all. Maybe not that much different than us.”
    “But they don’t have technology. They have no
chips. They cannot work in a city. They’re just a bunch of
barbarians, living in mud huts!” The wild look had flamed to more
of a panic.
    He hated to see her this way. He put up his
hands, “Okay, okay, I was just wondering. I’m sorry I brought it
up. There was silence for a couple of minutes while his wife calmed
down. “Hey, I think I’ll get something to eat before I come to bed,
okay?”
    “Okay. But...don’t bring up anything about
this again. If you’re going to joke, do it at your own expense, not
mine.”
    “Okay. Goodnight.”
    “Night,” she said. Before H662 had even
closed the door, her head was back on the pillow but her eyes
remained open. He could tell the talk had really disturbed her and
it might be a while before she slept.
    Later, as H662 sat in the living room with
his evening carbpack he tried to imagine what it would be like to
live with the Outcasts. Maybe it wouldn’t be all that bad.
     

Chapter 12
    The sun had been down for a few hours and the
moon put a silver-blue hue on everything, and Chavez walked alone
and cold. Finally, he saw what seemed to be dwellings ahead. They
were nothing like where he had come from. Primitive housing made
for barbarians and outcasts. But then again, he had to reconcile
himself to the fact that he was now an outcast himself. What else
could he be?
    A middle aged woman sat by a fire and she was
weaving something by hand. As he drew near, she looked up. “I was
wondering if you were going to make your way here,” she said. “I
said to myself, here comes another one of those defectors from the
city, come to make a new start of it.”
    Chavez felt off his guard. “Do you get many
of those? I mean, is it common?”
    “All the time. And yes.” She smiled and the
fire showed her age more in the lines from her eyes and around her
mouth.
    “I am Chavez.”
    “A respectable name. Not many come with names
these days. How thoughtful of you.”
    “I didn’t want to live with an ID
anymore.”
    “Of course you didn’t.” She sat cross legged
next to the fire and kept weaving. Come, have a seat. I won’t
bite.” She motioned to a stump beside her. “So what is your story,
dear?”
    Again, the shock of someone outright asking
for him to talk about experiences almost overwhelmed him. A tear
began to trickle down his cheek, and he was glad it was dark. “I-I
didn’t like it there.”
    “I’m sure you didn’t,” she said calmly.
    “I tried, but I just couldn’t stay.” He fell
silent, trying to hold the tears inside.
    “When did you decide to leave?”
    “Two days ago,” he said. “I left my family
and everything.”
    “Sorry to hear that.” She rubbed some of the
dirt from her hands. “But why? Why did you leave them? Didn’t you
have everything you ever wanted? Wasn’t it the golden age of
humanity? Wasn’t everything at your fingertips?”
    She was goading him on, he thought to
himself. “No, it was horrible. This talk we’re having now could
never have happened there. Never!” He felt himself getting
upset.
    “No, it wouldn’t,” she said. “Not when I was
there either.”
    “You grew up in the city?” asked Chavez.
    “Let’s not make this about me. You tell your
story, and then I’ll tell you mine. That’s the way