The Bleeding Crowd Read Online Free Page B

our own verbal
histories. We don’t have to read a word to learn it.”
    Dahlia waved her hand, shooing away the
comment. “So, you have these weep... weh-pons at the camp.”
    “People manage to sneak them in every now and
again.”
    Her nose crinkled. “Sounds awful. They teach
you how to hurt people, but not how to read?”
    “Well, sweetheart...” Ben shut the book and
placed it next to him on the bed. “I don’t think you want us to
start learning anything else. Your whole society is sort of based
on making us seem as animalistic as possible. You’d think if you
didn’t dehumanize us, one or two of you might have a little more
compassion for our plight.”
    She studied him before shaking her head. “You
really do talk a lot of nonsense.”
    “I don’t know what they tell you about the
camps, but until you see them, you aren’t in any position to
comment about what I’m saying being ‘nonsense’ or not.”
    “You’d have to bring back pictures.” She
pressed the keypad on the wall. “I’m not allowed anywhere near the
place.”
    “That doesn’t raise any red flags for
you?”
    “Should it?” She brought up the national news
from the pad.
    “What are you doing?” he scanned the page
that seemed to be floating on the window.
    “Checking for any big news I should know.”
Dahlia shrugged, not looking at him.
    “You get news on your window?”
    “General information is hooked up to the
interweb, and the interweb can be broadcast through the glass,
something about plasma or electrons or something. I’m not a
physicist. I don’t really know all the science behind it.”
    “So you get all the information you need
right there.”
    “Keeps us up on things,” she said.
    Ben was silent for a moment. “So why do you
have papers around?”
    Dahlia shrugged. “Private documents, backup
copies, all that jazz. Not everything can be sent en masse or even
into our private inboxes. Harder to hack into a piece of
paper.”
    “So you don’t fight each other, but you’re
more than willing to spy on each other.”
    “Some are,” she said.
    “You get paper and electronic mail.”
    “Males?” Dahlia frowned.
    “Electronic letters,” Ben specified.
“Mail.”
    “What do letters have to do with men?”
    Ben paused, opened his mouth, shut it again.
“What?”
    “Why do I feel like I’ve fallen into some bad
comedy routine?”
    “When did I say anything about men?” Ben
asked.
    “Male is the adjective version of men, if I’m
not mistaken.” She crossed her arms, pressing the pad again so the
window turned smoky again. “A male child? Male affectations?”
    “No.” He sighed. “You’re impossible to talk
to. Not male: M-A-L-E, mail: M-A-I-L.”
    Dahlia shook her head. “Sorry, I’ve only
heard of the first one.”
    “Well, how do you get letters sent to
you?”
    “Sent?”
    “I put the letter in the...” he prompted.
    “Post,” she added.
    “There you go.” He hit his legs with his
hands. “Means the same thing.”
    “Post and mail?” Dahlia frowned. “The second
mail, not male, male—”
    “Right,” Ben cut her off.
    “All right.” She nodded, lost. “So what was
the original question?”
    “I don’t even remember at this point.” Ben
shook his head. “The window thing’s fascinating though.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Well, we don’t have anything like it at the
camps,” he said. “Besides, you’re the first person I’ve ever had
willing to explain it to me. Most women don’t spend a whole lot of
time talking to me about, well, anything.”
    Dahlia looked him over. “Do you get picked a
lot then?”
    “More than the average, I think,” Ben said.
“You chose me.”
    She shrugged. “You were as good as any.”
    Ben snorted. “Glad I mean so much to
you.”
    “Why would you mean something to me? You’re
just a man. And I’ve known you for less than twenty-four hours
now.”
    “I thought it was supposed to be in your
nature to be