The Line by Teri Hall Page B

isn’t anything they can do about it.
    “But your father’s friend Alex was crushed. He couldn’t accept what happened to him; he wanted more. He was young and a dreamer, and he thought he would die if he couldn’t live his dreams. Who knows, perhaps he would have. Perhaps he would have wasted away in the factory, if he was lucky enough to get a position there, dreams drying up one by one. Perhaps his mind would have slowly filled with the deadly gray of assembly work, year after year.” A tear escaped the corner of Vivian’s eye. She hastily wiped it away.
    “Alex didn’t wait to see what would happen. When Daniel left for college, Alex hung himself. His father found him when he returned from a shift at the factory—a limp, lifeless body in place of his laughing, handsome son.
    “Daniel never forgot it, nor did he forgive himself. His admission to college had nothing to do with Alex being denied, at least not directly. Daniel’s admission had been secured by his father, your grandfather, when he was still a toddler. But he always blamed himself anyway. He said he was a part of the system. He said he might as well have killed Alex himself.”
    By the time Vivian finished recounting Alex’s story, Rachel was weeping. Not just for Alex, though his story broke her heart. She was weeping for her father. She would never hear his stories or be able to talk to him about things. He would have known exactly what to do about the corder. He would have never slunk away from the Identification. Rachel loved Vivian. But at that moment she missed having a dad more than she ever had before.
    “You okay?” Vivian handed Rachel a tissue.
    Rachel nodded. “I’m okay. I guess I can’t understand why people would let things like that happen.” Rachel didn’t want to tell her mom the real reasons she was crying.
    “Oh, Rachel. Look at what they let happen now. So many people believe the propaganda the government distributes. You know how it is—you see the streamer coverage on the issues. It’s the party line all the way. ‘The Identification System is necessary for the safety of the people; all prisoners are justly incarcerated. Random taxes and all of the other government regulations are fair.’ The costly licenses for marriage, restrictions on childbearing slanted in favor of those lucky enough to be rich or connected, Labor Pool sentences for those who can’t prove Gainful Employment status. All of those things are accepted as requisite components of a healthy, working social system.” Vivian smiled at Rachel. “At least by most people.”
    “But not Dad?” Rachel was still absorbing the thought that her own father—and her mother —were once collaborators. Vivian had always taught her to view the government with suspicion, but Rachel couldn’t imagine her taking the kind of chances that collaborators must.
    “Not your dad.” Vivian swiped at her cheeks, wiping away a fresh round of tears. “Your dad knew better, Rachel, because of Alex. And he was brave. Most people are too afraid to protest, so they simply go along.” She nodded to herself, remembering things, things that Rachel couldn’t guess at.
    “Your father and I couldn’t just go along. We had to try to change things. In college we learned about the collaborators. There was a secret meeting, and we went.” Vivian shook her head. “We trained. We studied. When it was time, we moved to Ganivar, set up house, played the happy, successful young couple. And collaborated.
    “You should have seen how it was in Ganivar, Rachel. People were so afraid—their fear turned them into monsters. If a friend or colleague was Identified during lunch and hauled away, well, the thing to do was simply order dessert and change the subject. People looked the other way when their neighbor disappeared into the back of an Enforcement vehicle. They didn’t want to know where that ride ended.
    “We tried to be careful. But we weren’t careful enough. Someone reported