Veronica

"Well, well. You've finally emerged from your lair, Ms. Mars," Parker states, a glint of mischief in her eye.

I place my lunch tray in the space between us and sit down across from her, glancing around the table at the other friends seated around me, their meals already mostly consumed. The down-side to having friends in other programs was that by the time I caught up to them at lunch, they were often halfway through their conversations and food. Today, I suspect that I was the topic of discussion.

"Hello to everyone, too," I state and unwrap my chicken sandwich, trying to ignore their stares.

"When we ran into Logan yesterday, he said you weren't feeling well," Mac adds, a wide grin spreading across her lips. "Had to stay in bed all day."

Oh no. Here it comes. My insides tighten as I prepare myself for the onslaught. I know what Lilly would say if she were here—which is why I'm putting off the phone call to her with an update on Logan and my status until my eardrums can stand the intensity of her squealing with excitement.

"But rumour has it a couple was having very enthusiastic sex in their room for the better part of the weekend…" I toss a side glance at Jackie, and the glee on her face is undeniable, causing me to blush and look away again. "...on the same floor, you guys are on."

"And Logan did look very happy yesterday when we ran into him. Almost like he was glowing," Parker teases.

I hide my face in my palms and groan, and the women erupt in laughter around me. When Jackie's hand rests on my shoulder, I peek out.

"I take it you told him about your feelings?" She smiles at me, warmly.

"Yeah, I did," I reply, taking my hands away from my face.

"So your worry that he wouldn't respond in kind was unfounded too?" Parker reaches across the table and places her hand on my arm.

"Yeah. It was."

Warmth rushes through me at the thought of being loved by Logan. It was all still so shiny and new and thrilling, and it made me hope we could stay like this forever, just content to be thoroughly and unequivocally in love with each other.

"We're all so happy for you," Mac concurs, sweeping her purple bangs from her face. "We may tease you, but we do mean it."

Emotion tightens in my chest as I look at all the amazing women surrounding me. I must admit that I didn't have many close female friends—besides Lilly—growing up, and now, to be included with this group makes me feel incredibly fortunate.

"Thanks. You were right, and I never should have been afraid to tell him how I feel. And yes, Logan and I spent a blissfully happy weekend together," I state, another tickle of excitement running through me as my mind automatically flashes to how blissful the weekend was. "But for now, can we just let it go? Please?"

The three lock eyes for a second before giggling in unison. Jackie removes her hand from my shoulder and goes back to picking at her large fries. "Okay. Fine. Do you have a new topic of discussion then, because, for the past few days, all we have talked about is you."

"Good to know my love life is entertainment." Rolling my eyes, I shake my head with a sigh. "Actually, I do have another topic. C.H.A.D."

"Who the hell is Chad?" Mac asks, her brow wrinkling in confusion.

"Oh! That's the weird group Wallace told me about," Jackie interjects. "The one with the men against Orwell and any other government computer intervention."

"And women," I add. "Apparently, there are a few women involved as well."

"Hey! That sounds familiar…." Parker reaches below the table and pulls her over-sized purple backpack onto her lap, shifting back to make room as she unzips the main compartment and proceeds to rummage through. "Piz gave me an invitation to a party with that name on it on Sunday while I was studying in the library. I just thought he was hitting on me again, so I shoved it into my bag and told him I'd think about it. And then I went back to my research and forgot all about it."

I hold my breath for a moment as she continues to look, now pulling out books and setting them on the edge of the table.

"So, this group is against all technology?" A sharp V forms between Mac's eyebrows, as if she can't fathom that someone would be against computers.

"From what I understand, they're not anti-technology per se, they just want the ability to choose their own partners. Logan found out that Duncan has been attending their meetings, but it sounds like there's more to it than just the partnering thing. He said that they talk about politics a lot and that the ratio between men and women in the group is two-to-thirty." I take a bite of my lunch and watch Parker continue to dig.

"That sounds pretty creepy," Mac adds. "I mean, I know that there will always be people that want to go back to the old ways, but their way doesn't sound like an upgrade."

"Found it!" Parker lifts a crumpled blue piece of paper out from the bottom of her bag. She pushes her tray to the side and spreads the paper flat as crumbs fall out of the water-stained sheet. "Sorry. My bag is a disaster zone."

When she flips it around, I skim the details in big block lettering. "Old School Dance Party," I start to read out loud from the top. "Friday, October 29. 10:00 pm. Metals Inc. Building, 10315 Calumet Access Road, Chicago. DJ Piznarski with guests. Open bar and free cover. Hosted by C.H.A.D."

"When Piz gave it to me, I considered the source and just looked it over to be kind." Parker shrugged. "He said that it was mainly for unmatched people, but I could bring a matched friend or two if I wanted."

"An open bar at a college party sounds sketchy," I state, my eyes locked on the crude drawing of album covers that fill in the spaces between the words. I wonder if Piz drew them himself before photocopying a bunch? "It's like they want everyone to get drunk. And this address doesn't sound like it's around the campus area. My dad is the head of N.D.S.S. for Neptune Sector, and at least once a month, there would be a party in one of the old abandoned industrial warehouses outside of town. I wonder if it's the same around here?"

"I think it's the same everywhere," Jackie says. "I went to a few warehouse parties in high school. No drinking, mind you, but they were a blast. Just some good music and harmless fun."

Tapping my index finger on the sheet, I contemplate the possibilities. This could be a legitimate party. Or it could be a little more sinister.

"Parker, if I go with you, would you go to this party? Maybe Mac can come too? Safety in numbers," I state.

"Hey! What about me!" Jackie pouts, pointing a long french fry at me. "Just because I'm pregnant doesn't mean I can't still dance."

Chuckling, I steal her weapon of choice from her fingers and pop it in my mouth as she gasps in faux shock. "I thought I would take off my ring and pretend to be unmatched that night. As much as I would love for you to come, the baby belly definitely says, 'I'm matched.'"

"Okay, fair," she replies. Her hand falls to the top of her belly, protruding under her tight green sweater as she sighs. "Who am I kidding—I'd rather be asleep at that time anyhow."

"Why the sudden interest in this, Veronica?" Mac asks. "What's the big deal about this group?"

Wrinkling my nose at the paper, I fold it up and shove it in the back pocket of my jeans. How do I answer this question when I'm not sure myself why this is so important?

"It's not really about the group as much as it's about my friend Duncan…" I start, unsure of exactly where I'm going. "His sister is my best friend, and really, he's been one of my good friends since elementary school. And quite honestly, for a while, I thought that maybe I would be partnered with him. Not that I regret Logan, not at all, but it seemed on the surface like Duncan and I would be matched. So I guess now, I feel like I have a bit of a duty to help him. He's kind of lost his way since we got to college, and I just want to make sure he gets back on the right track if that makes sense? And I think if I show him that this C.H.A.D. group is the wrong decision, he'll refocus on what matters."

"Helping a good friend always makes sense," Parker says and reaches across to place her hand on mine. "I'll definitely go with you to check it out. You just have to promise to never leave my side while we're there, and if anyone talks to me, you have to find a way to get them away from me."

"I feel that's fair. And ditto for me," I laugh.

"Count me in too," Mac adds. "Along with the provision of moving as a pack."

"Well, I guess I'll stay home and hear all about it the next day," Jackie sighs. "Have fun with the weird men without me."

A shiver runs down my spine as they all laugh. I hope it will be fun. I hope it will be harmless fun and we'll all dance and have a few drinks and it will all be fine—a misunderstanding or misinterpretation of facts. But the fear creeping along my nerves reminds me that darker intentions may still be at work.

Logan

"There. That's him," Wallace points to a lanky, pasty white dude with a mass of reddish-curly hair exiting the lecture hall.

We've been waiting for the appearance of Wallace's buddy from his class for the last thirty minutes, and now I'm regretting that we didn't grab lunch beforehand. I push myself from my leaning position against the wall, adjusting my jacket as I walk through the crowd of other students. Following the man, as he walks quickly down the hallway, I hope to catch up with him and get the answers Veronica wants promptly and efficiently so I can grab a sandwich before our next class.

"Hey! Ratner!"

Wallace calls after him loudly from behind me, and the guy stops and turns towards me, frowning. As Wallace catches up, Jeff Ratner's face morphs from confusion to a smile.

"Hey, Wallace! Are you looking for some pointers on your fadeaway? Because I have time…"

"Ha. Ha. Hah." Wallace claps his hand on Ratner's shoulder as he shakes his head. "One fancy shot on the basketball court and suddenly you're a gift to the sport? Think again, my friend."

"So, what's up?" Ratner looks me up and down with a grin. "Or are you looking to add this guy to the team? Because if you are, I'd have to see him on the court first."

"No, this has nothing to do with basketball. Jeff, this is my buddy, Logan. He's actually looking for information on a group you may have heard of…." Wallace jerks his thumb towards me, and I take my cue.

"What do you know about C.H.A.D.?"

Ratner's response is to snort with laughter and shake his head. "You mean besides the fact that they are pushing a hetero-normative existence outside of our current state of affairs?"

He bobs his head to the right and proceeds to walk towards an empty vestibule near the window. Wallace and I follow as the crowds begin to thin in the halls. It's the lunch break, and soon, the entire floor will probably be empty. When we are away from people, Ratner leans against the window frame, crossing his arms.

"So you do know about the group?" I proceed, lowering my voice in case anyone is listening.

"Yeah. I went to one of their meetings," he says, his voice low as his gaze darts around for any prying eyes. "It was the weirdest fucking thing I've ever seen."

"See. Told you he would know," Wallace murmurs.

"How did you find out about the group? What happened?" I ask, hoping he's willing to share as much as he can with a virtual stranger.

"A few weeks after I got here, I was studying in my room, and someone shoved a blue flyer under my door with the details for the meeting. It said it was for unmatched people, so I thought, cool, maybe this was a good way to meet some other single people in my dorm. Problem was when I went to the meeting, I realized it was for unmatched heterosexual people, and my gay ass was probably not going to be warmly welcomed if I started hitting on any of the twenty other men there," Ratner says, pointedly. "There was all this talk about politics and how the government was subverting the natural order of things by accepting all forms of unions and how Orwell was going against traditional values dating back from before the war. Then, at one point, these three girls joined the discussion, and everyone lined up and took turns sitting at a table and talking to them. It was really strange.."

"Did you talk to them?" I ask.

"Yeah. I figured pretending to be hetero was the way to go in this instance." He chuckles. "Two of the girls looked really bored, and the other looked positively terrified. Like, this was not what she expected—to be surrounded by a group of lecherous losers, panting and drooling over them."

"What happened to them?" Wallace continues. "The women, I mean."

"Well, two to them left with two guys they chose, but the scared one ended up leaving with the guy who brought them in—Gory, the head of the group."

"How did you know he was the head of the group?" I question, curious about a man who seemed to be the brains behind this group of deadbeats.

"He went around talking to everyone, shaking their hands, and handing out newspapers and print outs from all sorts of underground media." Ratner shrugs. "I would show it to you, but it was such garbage I threw it out the minute I left the place. It was just more shit about the good old days when men were men and women were women and blah, blah, blah."

"Where was the meeting?" I continue.

My heart is now beating so hard I can hear it in my ears. This is all sounding like some sick production my parents would have written and produced as a warning about pre-war times. Except it was real. Too real.

"Some old building on the other side of town near the docks. Looks like it was an industrial warehouse that was spruced up a bit to make it look like it didn't once house giant machines and such," Ratner explains. "But on the outside, it still looked like a business—Metals Inc. was the name on the sign. That's what really sucked because I took a really expensive cab ride there and back and had to eat nothing but cereal for a week because it drained my stipend funds."

"I wonder if the guy's family owns it?" Wallace declares, snapping his fingers as if he found a clue. "That Gory dude?"

"Could be." I shrug. "We'll have to look into it."

"Oh, I wouldn't do that." Ratner raises his palms in the air and waves them back and forth. "I don't know what that guy's story is, but I'm going to guess by the vibes he was throwing, it isn't good. He doesn't go to our college, but he seems to have connections here. There were quite a few people that I later recognized on campus that were at the meeting—some of them even live on my dorm floor. And he had two big, beefy guys that seemed to be his right-hand-men that definitely were not college-age kids like us."

My mind is clicking at a furious pace, trying to imagine everything together. Duncan. Piz. Gory. The warehouse. The men. The women.

"The women," I repeat out loud. "Do you think the women were coerced into being there by these punks?"

"The one who was uncomfortable definitely gave off that vibe," he answers. "The other two, I don't know. Unless hooking up with strange men is their bag. Or they've been doing this so long that they don't care."

The next question churns up straight from the bile in my belly, and I cringe at the thought.

"Do you think they're being sold or traded for sex?"

Ratner's mouth drops open for a second as if the idea never crossed his mind before, and his eyes glaze over. When he snaps to, his mouth closes, and he shrugs, fear now in his eyes.

"I...I don't know. Two of them looked really eager, so I would say no, but then again, what the hell do I know about women?"

Shit. Fuck. Damn. What the hell have you gotten yourself mixed up in, Duncan?

"Logan? You got any more questions?" Wallace's grip on my shoulder jars me from my thoughts.

"No. Thanks, man, you've been a real help." I reach out and offer my hand, and Jeff shakes it, a small smile forming across his lips.

"No problem. Any friend of Wallace's is a friend of mine." Releasing my hand, he adjusts his backpack on his shoulder and nods to us both. "See you on the court tonight, Wallace."

"See you later, bro." Wallace pats his back as he walks past us and smiles.

I step into the space vacated by Ratner and stare out the window, watching the students hurry along the snow-covered paths between the buildings.

"You okay?" Wallace asks from behind me. "That was pretty heavy."

I find his reflection in the glass and nod. "Yeah. Just taking a second to put all the pieces together in my brain."

The Orwell system was implemented to make things safer for people. But evil still manages to find a way around the protections. Aaron proved that to me when I was young. Maybe this was a chance for me to help others who had fallen through the cracks as I did. Or stop it from happening to others.

Either way, something needs to be done.