The Traveler (excerpt)

The Traveler

EPISODE 1

Anissa awoke to the gentle sound of rain slapping the small window pane in her room. It took a moment for her thoughts to clear. She seemed caught between the worlds of sleep and consciousness, but the feeling was not uncomfortable. It seemed to wrap its warm arms around her. She lay still, not wanting to shake the moment off. But slowly the morning came into focus around her. What had she been dreaming? She couldn't remember now, but the smell of smoke-saturated wood seemed to linger in the air, along with the quiet mutterings of pleasant voices. She took a deep breath, then glanced at her clock. 0600. She should get up soon. It was her first day as Apprentice, and she knew tardiness was not acceptable.

Anissa breathed out slowly and then sat up and swung her feet out of bed. Then she began the morning routine that would prepare her for the day. Pull the sheets up to three inches below the top of the mattress. Pull taught, smooth the wrinkles. Pull blanket up to the lip, fold over. Smooth out. Replace pillows. Then she turned to her dressing table where her clothes had been set out the night before.

She entered the kitchen and hit three buttons, then marked her diet choice on a chart. Now she had ten minutes to gather her personal items for the day: pre-made lunch, miniComp, water bottle. Then she retrieved her breakfast, took it to the table, and sat staring at the blank wall in front of her as she ate. She was starting her apprenticeship today. Apprentice Political Aid. They made her choose. She had considered Engineer. She had considered Doctor. But she didn't feel that smart. Nor did she feel that selfless. Political Aid- it sounded like paperwork, small tasks, computers. She could do that. She could log data. She could file. But something inside of her felt like her fate was sealed.

Calm down, Anissa. She said to herself. You haven't even started, yet. You can't jump to conclusions. She took another deep breath, then finished her breakfast, put the dishes in the cleaner, and pushed another button. Time to go.

*****

Anissa sat in a cold, hard chair, outside a dark office. She had been given a short orientation followed by a tour. Now Miss Ipkins had assigned her, in that dry, disapproving manner that she had been using all morning, to sit and wait for Mr. Carson. Mr. Carson was to be her Master. For some reason, the thought of being randomly assigned to a Politician was terrifying to her, and so she had put in the request. She knew nothing about Mr. Carson, except for the fact that her father liked him. She had seen him once at a public debate. He was an elderly man with a gentle face and a habit of speaking slowly. She liked that. Everyone else seemed to rattle off words as if speed added value to meaning. He seemed to value a slower pace of life--and perhaps that was why he was late this morning. She would adjust. Perhaps she could be a great benefit to the elderly gentleman, shielding him from the fast-paced world that was always trying to run him over. Anissa smiled slightly. She could empathize with him. The world had always seemed too rushed for her. Just a few feet in front of her was a railing surrounding the large hole that made the Lower Level Commons visible. Anissa had been absent mindedly watching the men and women crossing the large carpeted floor below. But now, a small commotion caught her attention.

Two men seemed to be engaged in a heated argument. One was clearly the Senior, judging by the way he carried himself and the way he spoke to his companion, who followed along hurriedly with a file in his hand. But neither man was particularly old. In fact, the Senior of the two looked quite young. Anissa only got a glimpse of his face as he passed underneath her, but she noted how firm it looked. It reminded her how different this environment was from the one she was used to. Her thoughts drifted off again as she tried to picture herself a couple months in the future: would she have turned into one of these people with their superiority complexes and their specialized vocabulary? Stop it, Anissa. She chided herself. Surely they aren't all like that. Surely Mr. Carson would be different.

Raised voices from the stairwell behind her caught her attention. It took her a moment, but she realized they belonged to the two men from downstairs. Anissa turned slightly to her right to catch sight of them without staring. Their voices were lowered so that she couldn't hear their words, but they both seemed quite passionate about what they were saying. The man with the file caught the other man's elbow in a sort of pleading gesture. The other man gave him a hard look, then leaning in slightly seemed to end the conversation with some hard words. Anissa didn't like the way his eyes lit up with fire. His companion nodded in surrender and then broke off.

The first man continued walking in her direction. Suddenly a thought entered Anissa's mind. Just then, the man approaching her glanced up. When his eyes met hers she felt an iron hammer pounding her heart into her stomach. No...it couldn't be. His eyes showed no emotion or recognition. He came up beside her and stopped, pulling keys out of his pocket. Anissa stood to her feet anxiously. He entered the office without a word or a second glance. She hesitated a moment, and then followed him in. The state of the office she entered took her by surprise. It was cluttered with books and papers, so unlike the meticulous order of everything else in the building. The man in front of her set his bag down, shed his long coat, and took a seat. He began reading a memo that had been placed on his desk. Only then did he acknowledge her presence by glancing up.

"Who are you?" Anissa now had a very good opportunity to study him. She had noted before how he was young with a hard face. His face was not particularly wide, but only appeared so because of the fullness of his nose. His eyes were deep set, under small, purposed eyebrows. He had an open, square forehead under dark brown hair. His skin was remarkably smooth, except for around his mouth, where the  short-cut hint of a beard was showing. Anissa couldn't help noting that the proportions of his face seemed perfectly aligned, but it was his green eyes that held her captivated and terrified at the same time. They seemed to see right through her and completely disregard her at the same time. The intensity with which he looked at the world overwhelmed her.

She stuttered for words to answer him, trying to understand the mistake, but her roving eyes caught sight of the name plate on his desk. Carson. How could that be? She had seen Mr. Carson at the debate.

"I'm Anissa Robson...Miss Ipkins told me to wait for you here...I...I'm your new Apprentice." His eyes came up quickly and stared at her dubiously.

"I didn't request an Apprentice." Anissa felt guilty, as if she'd done something wrong.

"Well, I requested you...I guess, although I didn't expect you to be so...young." His eyes glanced away a moment and then settled back on her, as if he suddenly understood.

"You must have requested my uncle," he stood to his feet and Anissa felt a wave of relief wash over her. "Come with me." She followed his brisk pace out the door, to the stairwell, up the stairs and to the door of another office. He rapped his knuckles lightly against the door for mere ceremony and then opened it with familiarity, interrupting the conversation inside. Anissa peered timidly from behind him. With relief she spotted the Mr. Carson she had been expecting. Across from him sat a middle aged man who Anissa did not recognize. They both looked at the intruders expectantly.

"John, I have your new Apprentice. It seems Miss Ipkins brought her to me by mistake."

"But I don't have a new Apprentice," Mr. John Carson interjected quickly, before his nephew could leave. The young Mr. Carson looked back at him slowly. "I'm still working with Roe and mentoring two Juniors." The young Carson glanced back at Anissa who was trying to appear as unconcerned as possible. He then turned his attention to the other man in his father's office.

"Mr. Murdock, perhaps you can clear this up for me. Miss Robson here is a new Apprentice, but there seems to be some confusion as to who she belongs to."

"She's yours, Carson."

"I didn't request an Apprentice."

"No. But you were assigned one." This time Carson purposefully did not look at Anissa. She felt the awkwardness of the situation and gracefully took a step back, turning to look over the railing and pretending not to overhear.

"I was not consulted."

"No, you were not."

"With all due respect, Mr. Murdock, I don't have time or interest for babysitting--"

"Mr. Carson," Anissa heard Mr. Murdock's voice become firm, "this Party is getting a little tired of hearing what you do and do not have time for. In the last two years you have managed to acquire two strikes--a remarkable achievement for such an inexperienced politician. If you obtain a third, we will have no choice but to suspend you for a twelve month. I suggest that you try a little harder to accommodate the minor requests of the Director." Anissa was cringing inwardly. What a great start to her first day. The office was silent behind her. Then she heard Mr. Carson's quiet reply.

"I apologize for taking up your time." He closed the office door behind him and headed back for the stairwell without so much as a glance at Anissa. She hurriedly followed, uncertain of what else to do. He didn't speak again until after he had been reseated in his chair for some time.

"Miss Robson, was it?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am sorry to inform you that although you may have requested my uncle, you are stuck with me." Anissa felt uncertain of how she should answer that, but apparently silence was the wrong answer because he looked up at her sharply. "Are you disappointed?"

"I hardly know--" she stammered honestly, but his reply nearly cut her off.

"Well, so am I. This is the last thing I need right now." Anissa felt her embarrassment subsiding as indignation rose inside of her.

"I apologize, sir, for the inconvenience, but perhaps I might even be of some help to you." He didn't even look up at her.

"We'll see. Do you have any experience with filing, Miss Robson?" Anissa was beginning to resent the way he said her name.

"I can file, sir."

"Good," Carson stood to his feet and began gathering small piles of paper from all over his desk and compiling them into a single stack. He then pushed it toward her, "I assume you've been shown your workspace," and with that he dismissed her. Anissa reached for the large stack and left the office, trying to keep her pride intact. This was what she signed up for? She sighed and headed for her small desk, ten feet from the office door, just to the right of the railing. At least he was letting her work in peace. A bright thought occurred to her-maybe her entire Apprenticeship would be like this: him giving assignments and her working on them in peace. That wouldn't be so bad. After all, he seemed to want little to do with her. Maybe they could come to a mutually distant working relationship. She set her papers down and then surveyed her desk. She would need to get some files from Miss Ipkins.

The next hour and a half passed peacefully. Anissa found mild satisfaction in organizing the chaos that Mr. Carson had been living with. Everything could be logically categorized and easily obtained if necessary. But more than that, in order to file the papers, Anissa had to read them, and in reading them, she was learning. Mr. Carson was supposed to be her Master. He was supposed to instruct her and train her in the workings of this Political Party so that one day she could be a Political Aid, or even a Politician herself. But the way things were going, she secretly doubted that Mr. Carson had much interest in training her in anything. It didn't matter. She would find a way to learn.

Three-fourths of the way through the process, Carson re-emerged from his office with a note in his hand. Anissa dropped her work and turned her attention to him.

"Go to this link and you'll find the electoral stats from the past three years. I need them organized and graphed, focusing on these three factors. I have a meeting at 13:30. I expect this to be ready by then."

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll leave you to it. I'll expect you at that meeting in an hour," Mr. Carson walked briskly toward the stairs. Anissa sighed. She was going to miss her lunch. She glanced around her absent mindedly. The office around her was functioning like a clock. Everyone wore similar clothing. Everyone walked around doodling on their miniComps. Everyone stepped in sync. It was like the internal parts of a clock. But Anissa didn't feel like a piece of machinery. Her mind wandered back to a story she had heard when she was a child.

It was called "Thumbelina," and it was about a tiny girl who was born into a world she didn't belong in. She kept getting taken by creatures who wanted something from her, and she was too small to resist them: a frog, a beetle, a mouse, a mole. Finally, she flew away on the back of a bird to the land of the fairies where she married the prince and they gave her a pair of wings. It was a silly story, and the Educator who told it to her was removed soon afterwards. The Education Department had concluded that his views of education were not in line with their own, much to the approval of many applauding parents who had been horrified that their children's education was being thus wasted. Even now, some fourteen years later, a feeling of shame rose up inside Anissa and she glanced around her, as if afraid someone was reading her thoughts. She had been captivated with the story of Thumbelina, and when the Education Department stamped it as frivolous, she felt as if her very soul had been similarly rejected. But as a child, it was her soul that had rejected the world around her. Her father had laughed at her in delight when she put into words the thoughts in her head, but her mother had always disapproved. And now Anissa knew why. There was no place for that here. She was an adult, and she had to conform to society or be rejected. How much easier it would have been if she had started young.

The rest of the day passed in similar fashion. Carson only spoke to her to give orders or clarification, although he was busy throughout the day, on the phone, reading reports, or having meetings. Anissa meticulously made her way through filing and other small office tasks. And then the day was over. She stepped outside for the first time since she had entered and felt instant gratification as a cold stormy wind assaulted her. She looked at the sky and in spite of the threat of rain, eagerly began her walk home. One day down. How many more before her Apprenticeship was over? How many more...for the rest of her life? Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. After all, life wasn't as much about what you did for work as what you did outside of work, right? She could still have control over her life. The quiet solitude quickly surrounded her. Very few people chose to walk home anymore. Public transportation easily accommodated any location. But Anissa never liked public transportation. There were too many vacant eyes trying to forget the day, too many self-important people who shoved you out of the way, too many over-friendly strangers trying to make conversation when all she wanted to do was think.

When she reached home she wasn't surprised to find her mother just inside the door.

"And how is our Apprentice PA?!" she asked enthusiastically. Anissa managed a smile. "How was your first day, sweetheart?"

"It was...different," Anissa wasn't sure how else to begin.

"Did you get the assignment you wanted?" her father asked calmly from the Commons where he was reading the Paper.

"Uh--" her father looked up at her hesitation.

"You didn't get Mr. Carson?"

"Well, they put me with his nephew."

"His nephew? I don't think he has a nephew."

"He has a nephew."

"Love, even if he had a nephew, he wouldn't be old enough to be a Politician. He can't be more than thirty." Anissa stared at her father with a sinking feeling.

"We're talking about Mr. John Carson, right?" her father looked up with a question in his eyes.

"Mr. John Carson? Oh, you mean his uncle! I almost forget he had an uncle in the same Party." Anissa felt dejected.

"Because the Mr. Carson you've been talking about all this time, the 'only true progressive and hope for change' is the young Mr. Carson?"

"Of course. Did you think differently?"

"He's just...much different than I expected," Anissa remembered the man's hard eyes and gruff tone. How could her father idolize such an angry man? He must not know his true character.

"How so?"

"Well, honestly, he comes off a bit...rude." Anissa was surprised to see her father grin slightly.

"I'm sure he's not so bad when you get to know him." Anissa was not so sure, nor so interested in getting to know him.

Her parents held a meal with her and then returned to their Residence, leaving Anissa in the solitude she had been longing for all day. She turned on the Television and the evening passed mindlessly, and then it was off to bed. She considered staying up later, but what was the point? It would only make her tired in the morning, so she got in bed reluctantly. But the rain pounding on her window comforted her. Maybe tomorrow wouldn't be so bad. Her mind focused on the soothing sound, and she soon drifted off to sleep.

Anissa slowly became aware of sounds around her--the gentle mutterings of soft voices, the sound of rushing water, the quiet crackling of a fire. Smoke saturated wood filled her nostrils. She opened her eyes and found herself staring at a thatched roof, but instead of alarm, all she felt was familiarity. Somehow this was familiar. She sat up slowly and surveyed her surroundings. She lay on a thin bed of dried grasses inside a round structure. In the center, a small fire was dying. Its smoke drifted up and through the thatched roofing. The walls were not solid. They were uneven planks of wood, roughly bound together with twine. The sunlight filtered in through these cracks. The voices she had heard were coming from outside. Anissa stood to her feet instinctively and stepped outside, knowing that this was what she was supposed to do. Cold morning air greeted her. The land sloped away from her feet in a thrilling fashion, finally landing down below at a rushing river before sweeping up again on the other side. Luscious green trees and plants which could have no name filled the landscape, only slightly hidden from view by the thick fog that was rising from the river. Anissa felt a thrill of fear and excitement run down her spine, but it was the excitement that won out. And then she remembered, vaguely. She had been here before. This was the dream that she couldn't remember the other day. How many times before had she dreamt it? Anissa closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She didn't care. She was happy to be back.

She turned away from the view, a little reluctantly, to find the source of the voices. They weren't far. There were three of them, crouching around a hot open flame in the most peculiar fashion. She smiled, remembering how she had forgotten how strange they looked. They were short people, with a fascinating shade of skin that seemed to be a brownish purple. Their hair was black and purple and woolly. Their noses were flat. Their feet were wide. Their bodies were thin and muscular, and they rarely wore much to cover themselves. They spoke quietly among themselves in a soft, guttural language that Anissa could not understand. They were so different, and yet...familiar.

One of the women looked up and saw her, motioning with her hand for Anissa to join them. But when she motioned, she didn't pull her fingers up and over her hand. She held her hand palm down and pulled her fingers under, as if dusting something off. But Anissa understood the motion and she came and sat down beside the women. They continued to talk. One of them made a clicking noise with her tongue and the others giggled softly. Anissa couldn't help but smile. One of them used sticks to retrieve a small bundle out of a pile of coals. She unwrapped what turned out to be a very long, thick leaf and then offered the contents to Anissa. Anissa gratefully accepted it. It looked similar to a potato, but much larger. She hesitated, watching the other women to learn how to eat it. They used their fingers, tearing off a chunk of potato and then using their thumb to shovel it into their mouth. Anissa smiled to herself. Her mother never let her eat with her fingers. Her mother would never have to know.

Anissa woke with a start to the sound of her alarm. She looked around her for a moment, expecting to see the green foliage and sloped earth, the small, round structures, and dark skinned people. But they were all gone. She was in her room again. She hit the alarm, and then tuned her ears to listen for the rain. Nothing. It must have stopped. But the wind had not stopped. She could hear its haunting howl assaulting her window. She got up and began her morning routine.

Pull the sheets up to three inches below the top of the mattress. Pull taught, smooth the wrinkles. Pull blanket up to the lip, fold over. Smooth out. Replace pillows. Then she turned to her dressing table where her clothes had been set out the night before.

She entered the kitchen and hit three buttons, then marked her diet choice on a chart. Now she had ten minutes to gather her personal items for the day: pre-made lunch, miniComp, water bottle. Then she retrieved her breakfast, took it to the table, and sat staring at the blank wall in front of her as she ate. But she couldn't shake her dream. It was such a strange dream, and now she could remember having it several times before. Her father said that it was a gift to be able to dream. Only 10% of the population of Erikam had dreams. An Educator had once told her that dreams were fragments of the subconscious: emotions, memories, facts. She said that the mind was trying to process the day. But what part of her subconscious mind had dreamed up last night? Maybe she needed to adjust her diet. Now it was time to leave for work.

Anissa pulled her coat more tightly around her as she began her walk. She gazed at the concrete sidewalk beneath her feet, thinking back to the soft grass that had covered the ground. She stopped abruptly when she reached the Tree beside the local Merchandise Store. It was surrounded by a protective fence. It was tall and scraggly, thin and crooked. It didn't have leaves, it had dark green needles. Why weren't there more trees here? The trees had covered the land in her dream. Anissa looked about her at the dull grey of cement, the bright white of skyscrapers, the reflective black of windows. She shook herself and continued forward. She didn't want to be late.

As soon as she arrived, Carson called her in to his office. She entered, expecting a new assignment. He looked across the desk at her for a moment without saying anything. It was impossible to read that face.

"I saw you walking home yesterday. Did you get a misdemeanor on the Rail?"

"No," Anissa responded quickly in surprise, "No, I...I just enjoy walking." The answer sounded stupid. His hard eyes squinted at her. Great. He was going to find fault with everything she did.

"When the rains are coming?"

"You can look at my record, sir. I'm sure you'd find the means to access it."

"What are you insinuating?" he asked sharply. Anissa was taken aback. She hadn't meant to imply he used illegal methods to access information. She sighed.

"I apologize...I didn't mean to insinuate anything." He was studying her face.

"You're pretty passionate about politics?" It was an assuming question. Anissa knew she didn't have an answer. He noted her silence. She cringed inside. She was doing everything wrong today. "Are you at least a United Republican?" he asked a bit sarcastically. Anissa knew she had to answer honestly.

"I uh...I try to vote on the issue individually, rather than vote by affiliation. But yes, the majority of the time I agree with the United Republic Party."

"But you don't feel enough loyalty to the URP to affiliate yourself with them?" Anissa wanted to punch herself. Her second day as Apprentice and she was going to get benched. She couldn't change her answers. She couldn't lie.

"I don't feel I can extend my loyalty to any Party that hasn't earned my respect, sir."

"And the URP hasn't earned your respect?"

"I'm afraid I can't condone several of their policies, most recently the new healthcare reform."

"So you leave the backdoor open, just in case, so you can slip out and disassociate yourself if things go wrong."

"No," Anissa refuted him a little angrily, "I leave myself the option to disagree with men and women who I elected to office. Surely you don't claim yourselves to be perfect. And don't I have the freedom to vote how I see fit?" He looked a little amused at her frustration. She didn't like being an object of amusement to him.

"So you decided to enter politics in order to have your voice heard more effectively?" Anissa was a little taken aback. The thought had never really occurred to her. "But if you use your power to force your opinions on others, Miss Robson, you'll become exactly what you despise. And don't expect to represent this Party and advertise your own opinions." The last statement was said a little bitterly.

"Maybe I entered politics, Mr. Carson, because I would rather help to change the way things are than simply criticize them."

"An optimist?" he scoffed at her. "Great. Not only do I have an Apprentice, but I have an Optimist Apprentice."

“The evil of the pessimist is not that he chastises gods and men, but that he does not love what he chastises—he has no primary and supernatural loyalty to things. What we need is not the cold acceptance of the world as a compromise, but some way in which we can heartily hate and heartily love it. We do not want joy and anger to neutralize each other and produce a surly contentment; we want a fiercer delight and a fiercer discontent," it came out before she could think about it, but now she nearly regretted it. When she had started speaking, he nearly did a double take and then he stared at her intently, his face dropping from amusement, to unreadable. She felt he must know that she was quoting Old Literature, and like everything else, he did not approve.

"Miss Robson, I couldn't help but notice your age in your file."

"I'm still within the limit for Apprenticeship."

"Yes, but you're cutting it kind of close, aren't you? Why did it take you four years to decide?" Anissa chafed at the question.

"With all due respect, Mr. Carson...that's none of your concern," she felt the words burn on the way out and wished she could retract them. But what else could she say. He stared evenly at her for a moment, apparently affronted by her disrespect, then spoke quietly.

"You're dismissed." Anissa left the office trying to answer his question in her own mind. Why had it taken four years for her to decide on an Apprenticeship? She had worked the first two years in General Services, as was common. But the last two years? Why had she delayed? But those weren’t questions that she was prepared to answer just now.

 The rest of the week passed in similar fashion. Carson gave her monotonous, mindless tasks, and then seemed to watch her every movement in disapproval--that is, when he wasn't rushing around between meetings. Anissa settled into a routine of long days of paperwork, broken up by awkward moments of conversation. Then she would go home to her solitary Residence. Some nights she returned to her green dream where dark skinned people crouched around a fire. Other nights, she did not. And so she made it to Friday. It was coming upon the lunch hour when Carson emerged from his office, heading off to another meeting.

"Robson, did you get that form filled out?"

"No, sir. Not yet. I was working on the research you requested." He simply stared at her. Anissa felt her frustration rising inside again. How could he give her two assignments and expect them both done within an hour?

"I need it sent to Miss Ipkins by 13:30 for the meeting."

"Yes, sir." And then he was gone. Anissa sighed. There went her lunch hour...again. From the corner of her eye, Anissa spotted a Junior PA approaching from the left. She had met him briefly during her tour, and run into him frequently over the past week. She supposed they were becoming friends. Now he came and shamelessly peered over her shoulder.

"Robson, you have lunch yet?"

"I have to finish this form by 13:30."

"Is that the novel-length form that the Party is demanding now for Committee Progress? "

"Yes."

"Carson's making you do it?" he smirked.

"Yes."

"As long as you get it in by 17:00, you should be fine."

"But he asked me to have it finished by his meeting at 13:30."

The Junior PA waved his hand in dismissal of the thought, "Please. Carson's off to lunch at the District with Mr. Hawthorne. I guarantee he won't be back until 14:30."

"Mr. Hawthorne? I thought Mr. Hawthorne was of the People's Party." Mr. Hawthorne was one of the wealthiest men in all of Erikam.

"He is. But the UPR holds the house this year. Mr. Hawthorne is going to need a few more votes to keep the Legislature voting in his favor."

"I don't think he'll convince Mr. Carson," Anissa spoke as if the thought were ridiculous. She pictured Carson's piercing eyes and his stony face. Then she noticed the Junior PA's condescending look and attempted to defend herself. "Mr. Carson has consistently promoted a return to Classical Capitalism with a strong central government, opposing the Market-Oriented Corporate Capitalism--"

"Yes, I think we're all aware of Carson's socialist tendencies."

"It's not socialism--"

"But how much easier would Mr. Hawthorne's victory be if he won Carson's vote?"

"You really think he can convince Carson?" Anissa scoffed at the idea. The Junior PA gave her an amused look.

"I'd say Mr. Hawthorne has enough money in the bank to convince anyone."

"You think he'll try and bribe him?"

"Look, I know you're new here Robson, but don't be so naïve. You live on the West side, right? Have you ever known anyone elected to the House?"

"No, but what--"

"It's all blood and money, Robson. You don't get elected without the right combination of either."

"That's ridiculous."

"Is it? You'll learn soon enough. Even our "principled" Carson gets his funding from somewhere. Ever wonder where that funding comes from?" Anissa didn't reply as his words sunk in. "Come on, let's get lunch."

"I have to have this form filled by 13:30," Anissa set her jaw firmly. Her friend shook his head as he prepared to leave.

"What fortitude," he said sarcastically, "Carson doesn't deserve you." Anissa focused on the task in front of her. She didn’t know why she felt disappointed inside. It wasn't as if Carson had shown any real moral fortitude. Hadn't he looked disgusted when he called her an optimist? Perhaps she had been optimistic. Perhaps she had been naïve. But she hadn't ever considered that Carson might be taking bribes. What did it matter? She was finding out more and more every day that the whole system was corrupt. All people cared about was money. What did money have to do with anything? Her thoughts turned to a green landscape, sloping away from her feet--to quiet, gentle voices and smoke saturated wood.