stomach, she isn’t sure if it will change for the better or for the worse. “Can you believe it?”
Boyd stands up. He looks uncomfortable with his height, his lanky arms. He covers his mouth with his hands and shakes his head.
“What is it, Boyd?”
He doesn’t move.
“What is it?” He’s a stranger, but still she reaches up and grabs his wrists and pulls his hands from his mouth. “Tell me.”
He closes his eyes slowly and then opens them. “It was too soon,” he whispers. “We weren’t ready.”
“We?”
He reaches into his pocket with his right hand and then shakes her hand, as if they’re just meeting. She feels the pressure of something he’s pushed into the center of her palm. She takes it, hiding it in her folded hand, and then sits down in one of the dining room chairs. She hunches over slowly, and through the glass of the tabletop, she sees a small piece of paper—an origami swan.
She looks up at Boyd. He’s one of them. He’s part of the revolutionary movement on the inside, the sleeper cells that were aligned with Partridge’s mother—those who wanted to take down the Dome. It’s as if some silent prayer has been answered. She feels connected to something larger than just her and Partridge, alone.
She closes her hand over the small paper swan. She thinks, Too soon? We weren’t ready? Has Partridge just made a terrible mistake? She feels shaken.
“But it’s good,” she says. “He’s going to tell them about us too. This is what he was supposed to do. He had to tell the truth.”
Boyd looks down at her hand in her pocket.
She’s scared of the swan now. She turns it over in her hands, and sees the edge of a word under one wing. She unfolds it. And there’s a message. Glassings needs your help. Save him.
Isn’t Glassings the one who’s supposed to be helping Partridge? Partridge has been hoping to get in touch with Glassings. He needs Glassings, but now he’s going to have to save Glassings first? The network that, just moments earlier, seemed like it could help them now feels fragile.
Lyda says, “He promised me that he was going to…” tell everyone about her and the baby. He promised that they would be able to be together—publicly. But she knows that everything’s changed now. He told the truth—it was too soon . But was there ever going to be a good time to say what he had to say? She’s angry now and scared. What’s happened to the future?
Boyd doesn’t ask her to finish her sentence. He knows there’s nothing he’d be able to do to help.
Lyda puts the swan in her pocket. She looks at Boyd. “I’ll take care of this when I see Partridge again, but you have to do something for me in return.”
“Of course.”
“Program the orb the way I asked you to,” she says to Boyd. “Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, Ms. Mertz,” he says, “of course. I’ll do what you tell me to do. That’s my job.”
C ONTAGION
P artridge feels the change immediately as he steps onto the street. Everything is different. The air is charged in a way he’s never felt before. The noise of muffled voices rises behind the windows of all of the apartment buildings. Most windows in the Dome are sealed shut—the buildings are temperature controlled. Why open a window ever? Frankly, it only invites people to jump, and suicide rates in the Dome are high enough.
Still, he can hear yelling and shouting—muted, yes, but it’s everywhere at once. And Partridge knows why. He’s taken away their lie—the one that allowed them to function in the world around them. If you rob them of their lie, they’ll self-destruct , Foresteed had warned. Was that true? Or are they angry at him? Surely, there are the sleeper cells, the Cygnus, who’ve seen the footage and are rejoicing. Some of this noise could be joyful, right?
As he rounds the corner, Beckley and the two other guards are in step, surrounding him. “Where are you going?” Beckley asks.
“I’m going to Lyda’s,”
Boyd stands up. He looks uncomfortable with his height, his lanky arms. He covers his mouth with his hands and shakes his head.
“What is it, Boyd?”
He doesn’t move.
“What is it?” He’s a stranger, but still she reaches up and grabs his wrists and pulls his hands from his mouth. “Tell me.”
He closes his eyes slowly and then opens them. “It was too soon,” he whispers. “We weren’t ready.”
“We?”
He reaches into his pocket with his right hand and then shakes her hand, as if they’re just meeting. She feels the pressure of something he’s pushed into the center of her palm. She takes it, hiding it in her folded hand, and then sits down in one of the dining room chairs. She hunches over slowly, and through the glass of the tabletop, she sees a small piece of paper—an origami swan.
She looks up at Boyd. He’s one of them. He’s part of the revolutionary movement on the inside, the sleeper cells that were aligned with Partridge’s mother—those who wanted to take down the Dome. It’s as if some silent prayer has been answered. She feels connected to something larger than just her and Partridge, alone.
She closes her hand over the small paper swan. She thinks, Too soon? We weren’t ready? Has Partridge just made a terrible mistake? She feels shaken.
“But it’s good,” she says. “He’s going to tell them about us too. This is what he was supposed to do. He had to tell the truth.”
Boyd looks down at her hand in her pocket.
She’s scared of the swan now. She turns it over in her hands, and sees the edge of a word under one wing. She unfolds it. And there’s a message. Glassings needs your help. Save him.
Isn’t Glassings the one who’s supposed to be helping Partridge? Partridge has been hoping to get in touch with Glassings. He needs Glassings, but now he’s going to have to save Glassings first? The network that, just moments earlier, seemed like it could help them now feels fragile.
Lyda says, “He promised me that he was going to…” tell everyone about her and the baby. He promised that they would be able to be together—publicly. But she knows that everything’s changed now. He told the truth—it was too soon . But was there ever going to be a good time to say what he had to say? She’s angry now and scared. What’s happened to the future?
Boyd doesn’t ask her to finish her sentence. He knows there’s nothing he’d be able to do to help.
Lyda puts the swan in her pocket. She looks at Boyd. “I’ll take care of this when I see Partridge again, but you have to do something for me in return.”
“Of course.”
“Program the orb the way I asked you to,” she says to Boyd. “Will you do that for me?”
“Yes, Ms. Mertz,” he says, “of course. I’ll do what you tell me to do. That’s my job.”
C ONTAGION
P artridge feels the change immediately as he steps onto the street. Everything is different. The air is charged in a way he’s never felt before. The noise of muffled voices rises behind the windows of all of the apartment buildings. Most windows in the Dome are sealed shut—the buildings are temperature controlled. Why open a window ever? Frankly, it only invites people to jump, and suicide rates in the Dome are high enough.
Still, he can hear yelling and shouting—muted, yes, but it’s everywhere at once. And Partridge knows why. He’s taken away their lie—the one that allowed them to function in the world around them. If you rob them of their lie, they’ll self-destruct , Foresteed had warned. Was that true? Or are they angry at him? Surely, there are the sleeper cells, the Cygnus, who’ve seen the footage and are rejoicing. Some of this noise could be joyful, right?
As he rounds the corner, Beckley and the two other guards are in step, surrounding him. “Where are you going?” Beckley asks.
“I’m going to Lyda’s,”
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