[Lauchenoiria]

Greenwood Household, Kerlile
PRESENT DAY

“You cannot be serious!” Carolyn Greenwood shouted at her mother. “You’re really going to send me to alt-ed?”

“Carolyn, the Council agreed it was the most appropriate response to your incursion on the Patel Estate. It is out of my hands,” Councillor Letitia replied.

“I could’ve stayed in Zongongia and instead you tell me to come back and say it’s fine and I’ll be safe? You lied to me!”

“Come on, Carolyn, you would have hated living in Zongongia, even for a few months,” Letitia chuckled. “And a couple of months is all it will take for you to pass the examination for release, if you are speaking the truth on your allegiances.”

“That’s not the point! I don’t want to spend even a day locked up with dissidents,” she wrinkled her nose. “I’d have rather you let them torture me!”

“You would not say that, I expect, if you had ever been tortured,” Letitia pointed out. “Come on, Carolyn. Do this the easy way. I will drive you there, you turn yourself in, and we can avoid any unpleasantness with the police.”

“Mother, please,” Carolyn begged.

“As I say, it is out of my hands. Now, are you going to cooperate?”

Carolyn turned away to hide the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. Once she was sure they would not fall, she nodded once. She allowed her mother to take her to the cars, and drive her to the South Grapevale Young Adult Alternative Education Facility.

*

Councillor Lia Chiu had assured Jennifer Hale that should she hand Jia and Cheung over to her care, that they would be safe and well-cared-for while Xia was in Zongongia. Hale, knowing how much the Chiu valued family, had no reason to disbelieve her.

She should have.

“Jia, can you come in here a moment?” called her great-grandmother while she was playing with some of her cousins outside. The eight-year-old ran inside to where her the Councillor was standing with a pair of police officers. Jia stopped and stood, waiting, oblivious to what was about to happen.

“Yes, great-grandma?” she asked. In response, the Councillor turned to the police officers, one of whom produced an extra-small pair of handcuffs and stepped towards Jia.

“Jia Chiu, you are under arrest for anti-matriarchal activity,” she said, grabbing one of Jia’s arms.

“I’m… what!?” Jia said, growing pale. “Great-grandma?”

“I must say,” the Councillor said, sighing as she looked down at her great-granddaughter, “that I am very disappointed in your mother for involving you in her rebellious activities while you are so young. You are old enough, however, to know better. Really, this is for your own good.”

Jia’s eyes went wide in panic as the police officer pulled her hands behind her back and handcuffed her. “Great-grandma, please! I didn’t do anything!”

“Now, don’t lie, Jia,” Councillor Chiu tutted. “It will not make anything better. Time in an Alternative Education Centre will be good for you.”

“No!” Jia said, struggling to get away. The Maytown Academy for Girls, where future Councillors were educated, did not hold back on informing the young Daughters of what happened in such places. “Please!”

Her great-grandmother gestured for the police to take Jia away. The eight-year-old screamed and began to cry, but it had no effect. She was carried out of the Chiu household and into a waiting police van, where she was deposited unceremoniously in the back. She tried to get control of herself; the Maytown Academy also taught that a Daughter of the Council should always keep her composure. It was much more difficult in practice than in theory. “Mama, help,” she sobbed to herself.

*

Camille Pierre was undertaking a rite of passage for young Reformist Daughters. She was at a Teenagers Against Torture meeting. The fact that reformist Daughters had been attending Teenagers Against Torture meetings for decades without success did not occur to the young girls sitting around a table making placards for their protest. It would be legal; Councillor Hale would sign their permit every time these days. Not that ‘legal’ meant much in Kerlile; it was always qualified by a bunch of other things that could be used against them at any given moment. Camille wasn’t that worried, though. She was Councillor Pierre’s (fourth) daughter.

Thirteen-year-old Camille was passing a tube of glue to one of the older teens when suddenly the door to the community room they were using burst open to reveal an entire squad of riot police.

“Down on the ground! All of you!” one of them yelled.

The older teens, used to this, complied with only a few sighs. Camille and the younger members were much more shocked. Camille began to pull out her ID card, opening her mouth to explain, “my name is Ca…”

One of them grabbed her and shoved her roughly into the wall, causing her to gasp and drop the card. They yanked her arms behind her back and handcuffed her, pressing her against the wall so it was difficult to breathe. One of them picked up the card and looked at it. Surely, they’d see who she was and go away? No such luck. The woman smirked. “Guess we’ve found who we’re looking for. Camille Pierre, you are under arrest for anti-matriarchal activity.”

“Oh,” Camille said. It was all she could manage in her shock. Olivia had warned her of the possibility when she decided to join the group. She hadn’t really believed it might happen. “Are you… are you going to send me to prison?” she asked. The woman only smirked again as she motioned for her colleagues to drag Camille out to a waiting van.