In the After

could hear doors opening and closing as I was moved around. They dropped me and untied the top of the bag before they left, locking the door. I wriggled out of the bag onto a cold linoleum floor. The small room was dark but I could make out a bed, a sink, a toilet. I lay still and miserable, unable to bring myself to move. Hopeless, I closed my eyes and wrapped my arms around my head, hoping to drown out the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
    “You seem different, Amy.” Dr. Reynolds is sitting across from me again, in my room in the Ward. This is my latest psyche-eval, the one my mother orchestrated. “Perhaps your treatments have been more effective than we anticipated.”
    “I am different.” I smile. They haven’t given me medication in days so I’d be clear enough to talk to Dr. Reynolds, not knowing that I’d neutralized the pills weeks ago. “I understand now what you’re trying to do here.”
    “And what’s that?” he asks, curious.
    “Maintain humanity.”
    “Not just maintain, Amy. Improve.”
    I have to concentrate hard not to laugh. “Improve, yes, I see that.”
    “Your mother seems to think that you’ve handled certain information quite well.”
    “Such as?” I don’t want to give anything away.
    “That there are Floraes in New Hope. That we perform tests on them.”
    “Yes. I’ve adjusted my way of thinking. I know it’s for the good of the community.” I’m keeping my responses short so I don’t mess up. I just have to convince him. I just have to get out of the Ward. I can squirrel away supplies, learn how to fly a hover-copter. One night I’ll sneak Baby out. We can live like we did before we came here.
    “Do you know why you were placed here, Amy?”
    Because your first murder attempt failed . “Because I needed help. This is where citizens go to receive the help they need.”
    He flips through his notebook. “When we first spoke . . . I flagged you as possibly subversive,” he says, surprisingly blunt.
    “I was just interested in learning about New Hope,” I try to explain.
    “Yes, I noted that as well.” He reads from his book. “A. Harris has an extremely curious disposition, prying into matters that are beyond her clearance level as a new citizen of New Hope.”
    “What else?” I ask, unsure why he’s telling me this.
    “A. Harris has an unnatural attachment to a post-ap she calls Baby. This child has a chance to live a happy, fulfilled life as a citizen, unless unduly influenced by A. Harris. She also has severe PTSD, causing many anger issues and an irrational resentment toward the structured society that defines New Hope. She should be monitored closely for violent behavior and rebellious conduct.” He snaps his notebook shut.
    “And now, because of my treatments, I’m much better,” I tell him.
    He looks at me pointedly. “No. You’re not.”
    I try to stay calm. “I don’t understand.”
    “Amy, your mother is very important to us. Her research is invaluable. If we are to take back the world from the Floraes, we need people like her: smart, dedicated, and loyal. Since you arrived six months ago, your mother has lost some of her focused commitment to New Hope. Now she worries about you . . . for your well-being.”
    “But now I can fit in,” I plead. “Especially if I’m a Guardian. I can devote myself to New Hope. I can defend it.” My voice is strained.
    Dr. Reynolds shakes his head. “Amy, you and I both know there is only one thing to which you are devoted.” I swallow. He means Baby.
    “I’m not getting out of here, am I? This was all for show, to placate my mother.”
    “It’s a shame really, Amy. You’re so smart. You have so much to offer us, but you just can’t be trusted. I know you think that one day, maybe not too far off, you’ll escape from the Ward and leave New Hope behind with Baby at your side.”
    Shaking, I refuse to look at him.
    “I have scheduled a small neurosurgical procedure for you next week.”
    “Neurosurgical?”
    “I have decided we must go in and perform a minor lobotomy.”
    A lobotomy? This can’t be happening. “I am not psychotic,” I whisper.
    “You are extremely violent. Even on your medication, you killed a nurse in an attempt to escape.”
    “What?! I never . . . Is that what you’ll tell my mother?” It suddenly hits me that Dr. Reynolds is, at heart, a sadist. Nothing more, nothing less. He’s only telling me his plans because he wants to revel in my helplessness and my