J2 AU | R | No Strings Could Secure You | Part One

[dugindeep]

Fifteen Years Later

Jared wakes without even knowing what got to him. He stares at the ceiling in the Media Agent’s Lounge, the same non-descript tan tiles that line every room of this building, and listens for the alarm. It’s not there, so he’s still confused as to what happened. He rises in bed, stares around the room. He spots Chad, his partner, still sleeping well enough, snoring his way through the early morning hours. The next bed over is Jake, the new kid, and one further holds his boss, who seems to sense the disruption in the night.

“What’re you doing, Pads?” Jeff asks low, but sounding interested.

Jared blinks away some sleepiness and wipes a hand down his face. He’d only grabbed three hours of sleep so far and as long as he’s not disturbed again, he’s owed at least another four before going home. “Nothin’.”

“Go back to sleep.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jared bends back into the mattress and begs for sleep again, but his brain isn’t listening. Worse yet, just forty-two minutes later, the alarm sounds, forcing all four from their cots.

Chad grumbles while working his blue worksuit up and buttoning the top closed. “How is this even possible?”

“Hmm?” Jared asks while fixing his own set of blues and wiping hair away from his face.

“You’d think twenty years would be long enough to wipe all this shit off the land.”

Jeff comes up, patting a hand at Chad’s shoulder. “Never enough time to do that.”

As they amble out the door and down narrow stairs, Jake speaks up, a little excited. “Hey, I heard from this kid down the street that they’re making recording devices to replicate discs. How have they not outlawed them either?”

Jared’s eyebrow goes high in disinterest as Jeff schools the kids in the way their world works. How criminalizing things don’t make them extinct, but it does make the criminals more savvy in ways to run around the rules. And how Discers - those who have actual evidence of old media - have been doing their best to get everything underground for easy trade and viewing. Jared’s heard about clubs across the city that offer late night viewings of what they call The Classics, but he’s not even sure what that would entail. One time, in his grandfather’s living room, he saw a movie that showed space travel and swords made of red and blue lights. He had called it a New Classic and insisted Jared watch it. His mother had rushed in, swept up the movie player. The Media Freeze had already been made official in his neighborhood, while other areas took longer to implement. So his grandfather argued that he was safe from the ban because his block wasn’t there yet. It was the last time Jared visited his grandfather’s house.

As the four ride in the work van to the address Jeff had been given, Jake leans up from the back seat. “You guys ever see one?”

“What? A movie?” Chad asks, sounding annoyed. He still hasn’t totally warmed up to the new guy, and he also hates most questions.

“Yeah. I heard there were still some around last decade.”

Jared looks out the window and thinks about that movie, how there were flashy fight scenes and amazing monster-like beings that had to have been created by the most imaginative minds, but also such a careful construction of disillusioned characters fighting to find their place in the world. He had thought about that movie so many times as a child, but still fought with the idea that it was a pipedream. Media wasn’t good. No one needed it. It was the law.

Chad piped up, poking a finger at the back of Jared’s head. “He did. Some space war thing.”

Jared moved his head out of the way and shot an annoyed glare back at Chad. Jake looked interested. “What was it like?”

“I don’t know,” he grumbles in return. “I was like seven.”

“I thought your neighborhood went in ’86.”

He stares back out the window, like he doesn’t even want talk about it - he kind of doesn’t. It always feels strange to admit it to people who have never experienced film before. “It was my grandpa’s. His went in like ’88. Maybe ’89.”

“That late? Wow.” Jake leaned up closer, right next to Jared. “What was it like?”

Jared glances over his shoulder, a little steely and sharp. Before he can respond, Jake backs away and the van comes to a stop. “Let’s go, kids,” Jeff prompts as he shuts off the vehicle.

The four exit the vehicle and Jared eyes the house Jeff’s parked in front of. A little white ranch, lights popping up from the inside like fireworks. He hates this part.

As they march up the sidewalk, he spots a guy coming out to the front porch of the two-story bungalow in the next lot. He’s in lounge pants, a hooded sweatshirt with a tee hanging below, and glasses. He must’ve come out to watch and it puts Jared at an even more awkward moment. He’s not entirely proud of his job and what he has to do sometimes, but it’s the law, and it pays well. So he does it the best he can with as little feeling as possible.

Jeff, Chad, and Jake are already at the front door of the house they’ve been called to. Jared can’t stop looking at the guy on the porch shooting defiant glares, tipping his chin up like he’s not intimidated in the slightest. It’s new for Jared to see in the citizens - at least in the ones who are merely spectators. They usually are horrified and stay away.

“Ma’am, I’m sorry. You’re going to have to let us in,” Jeff is saying as Jared joins the guys on the porch. The woman behind the screen is in near hysterics and crying on about how they don’t have anything, they’ve never seen anything. Jeff keeps pulling on the screen door handle, but it’s been locked and he can’t do anything more than use his department-issued knife to cut through the screen so he can reach in and unlock it. Jared’s stomach turns with the notion that they have to break into her house, as they have at so many other places before. It’s never any easier

He’s inside, eyeing the family pictures adorning the walls, one shade of brown morphs into another as they enter each room. It’s not tidy, but everything fits together. This house, this home, is well-lived and Jared can tell this family is inlove with each other by how many times the photos show them laughing and smiling and hugging. It makes him sicker to be doing this.

“Down here!” Jeff calls out, forcing Jared and Chad to look for the bedroom at the end of the hallway.

Jared spots a kid, teenaged if he’s lucky, with sweaty hair that he keeps pushing out of his face and the obvious tag of guilt in his eyes. He wants to shake his head at the kid; no matter how hard this becomes, it’s the law and Jared abides by it in all manners, so he expects all others should, too.

“Right here,” Jake says as he’s dumping video games onto the unmade bed and Jeff tugs a few more cases from beneath a misplaced floorboard.

Chad reaches for a few of the boxes and nudges Jared, snapping his gum loudly and showing how little respect he has in this room. “I heard this one lets you run over trannies and hookers.”

Jeff looks over his shoulder and straightens. “Alright son,” he nods, as if that’s enough instruction. Jeff motions a hand towards the doorway and nods at Chad, who follows the kid out.

Jared knows what’s next. The kid will be hauled out in handcuffs, put away until he’s at least eighteen. The mother will sob her way out the door as she begs them to reconsider or at the very least will try to convince them they weren’t his, a friend hid them there, right. He and Chad will search the house for any other media paraphernalia and seek out proofs of purchase to point them in the direction of whoever is still supplying media. Jeff and Jake will set the discards - items they find, be them discs, video games, music, or movies - on fire in the front yard to make a point (as they’ve been trained to do). Then they’ll head right back to the station and grab themselves the last few hours of sleep they’re been owed this week.

And it does. And they do - find stuff. There’s a game console, two controllers, and a multitude of other games found in the little girl’s room. Barbie- and Princess-themed adventures. Which, unfortunately, forces Jeff to take the girl and the parents with them as well (a child over the age of 11 owning items is found wholly responsible; one under 11 is brought in with his/her guardian). It breaks Jared’s heart even further. He can’t imagine the girl doing well in juvenile detention.

After he’s tagged all the receipts and warranty information they’ve discovered, he and Chad cart the evidence bags to the van and join Jeff and Jake on the lawn to burn the game system and discs. That guy from next door is still watching them, now looking sad and dejected as he leans against a brick column at the corner of his porch.

Jared sighs and looks down to the fire, watching how the metal flames blue and the plastic melts down into the grass. He knows it’ll leave behind debris that can’t be fixed without digging up spots of the yard. They’d been taught it was part of the lesson. To ruin the front yard and show that criminals are always found, so others are on warning. When he’s tired of watching red and yellow burn itself into the ground, he looks up to the guy, who’s shaking his head and turning back into his house. Jared moves back to the van; he’s too tired to make meaning of this moment. They answered an alarm, found media to burn, and the family is in proper police detention. His job is done.

*

It’s another three hours before his shift ends and it doesn’t seem to come soon enough. Jared’s thankful to pull his truck into the driveway, grateful to spot Sandy’s sedan in front of the house, and all around just happy to be off work. When he trudges through the front door, he smells pancakes and oranges and even hears sizzling of bacon.

He smiles gently when he’s close enough to see her petite frame working itself around the kitchen. A hand goes to her back and he leans down for a peck at her cheek. “Hey, there.”

She smirks and pats at his cheek in return. “You look like hell.”

“I feel like it.” He moves easily for coffee and downs it as quickly as possible.

“Maybe sleep is in order? Not caffeine?” she asks while pointing a spatula at his mug.

He gives her a tiny smile. “I don’t know, but this stuff tastes amazing.”

“It’s the Columbian blend. From Chad and Sophia’s trip.” Sandy raises an eyebrow and he sighs. “I know,” she says on a chuckle as she turns back to the stove and flips a series of silver dollars.

Jared smirks at her while he settles at kitchen chair. Jared and Sandy were set to join Chad and Sophia on their South American trip, but Jeff wouldn’t let them both off at the same time, and Jared felt like she held it against him. “He said they didn’t do much beyond the hotel room and a coffee bar. That doesn’t sound like a whole lotta fun.”

“We could’ve had fun with that.” She’s still facing the stove, but he spots how her hips sway just so and he hears the play in her voice.

He leans back and smiles to himself, knowing they would have. His eyes drop closed and he relaxes for just a few moments before she’s sliding a plate before him and rubbing a hand over his forehead then across the top of his head.

“You really do look like hell.”

“A whole family,” he laments as he starts cutting up sausage links. “Even the little girl. Both kids had games.”

Sandy nudges the syrup towards him. Her voice goes soft and comforting. “Jared, it’s the law.”

He nods his agreement while pushing pieces of pancake into his mouth.

“I mean, if that stuff was okay to have, then you wouldn’t have a job, right?”

He’s still nodding, bringing a glass of orange juice up to his mouth and eyeing her. She’s so right, he knows this, but it doesn’t make it any easier on him. It’s not like there were many options for careers when he was eighteen and trying so hard to bring money home after his father died in a work accident. He took the first thing offered to him, and he hasn’t left it yet. Nine years of emptying houses and disgracing families will never feel easy.

It hasn’t even been five minutes at the table and he hasn’t gotten through half his food, but he’s not hungry anymore. He rises, kisses her quickly, and makes an excuse for bed. She gives him a sad smile and watches him go without argument.

*

He sleeps through the day, but it’s not good sleep. It’s fitful and broken after every dream cycle as he imagines that family. The girl, who they later found out was barely eight, crying her way out the door and through the front yard, complaining that it was her fault that her parents bought the game. Don’t blame them! It’s me! I made them do it! Don’t take them! she’d shrieked while Jared emptied the parents’ bedroom closets and drawers to find any proof of purchase. Those papers would go on to the Propers - the Proper Authorities, or real police - to follow up on who was making and selling media in town. There were days he wanted that job. To get out, ask questions, put pieces together in the mystery of where it was coming from. Anything to keep him away from sobbing families who were torn apart by his very presence. But it took a lot more than just nine years to get there. A good track record and the right connections was just the start of it.

Just after six, Sandy creeps into bed, sliding up to his tall frame and resting her head against his chest. Neither say anything at first - he normally asks how work was, but he’s too distracted at the memory of the little blonde girl from the house this morning. For once, the thoughts of what occurred at the hospital aren’t enough to ignore what he’s thinking about. “You okay, baby?”

His hand sweeps down her head and through her long, dark hair. He tries his best to sound normal. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“When’s your next day off?”

“Three days.” Then he can focus on not being seen as one of the bad guys, the ones who send people to prison.

“Maybe we can do something.” She rises from her spot to look down on him. “Go down to the beach or something? Get out of the neighborhood?”

Jared watches her, how her dark eyes scroll over his face as if inspecting for a tear in the armor. He nods. “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Her smile is small, but he knows it’s real. She dips down and kisses him, gentle and easy at first, but soon enough it’s getting stronger and he rolls over with arms winding around hips. He finds a way to distract himself from worrying about work.

*

His next shift carries him for twenty-four hours, spending too much time with Chad and a deck of cards, getting ideas from Jeff about things to do at the beach with Sandy, and catnapping as best as he can manage. It’s a relatively quiet shift. He’s off for another twelve hours, but it’s that next shift that really gets to him.

The house they happen upon is a small shack-like thing, tucked far back on its lot where garages usually take residence. The owner, a fortyish woman, is halfway up the walk by the time they’re walking towards her. She looks nervous and shaken, but she stands with an air of confidence and defiance. “I know what you’re here for,” she says in a steady voice.

“Ma’am?” Jeff asks. “You gonna make this easy?”

“There’s nothing here.”

Jared looks beyond her and takes a few steps. She moves to block him, eyeing critically. “You really have fun with this?”

“Ma’am, we’re just doing our job. Now if you’ll excuse me,” he tries cordially, as they’d all been taught to do.

She allows him past, but then follows alongside. “You don’t know what it’s like. To have all these pictures and stories flashing before you. They’re the best things I’ve ever seen.”

Jared keeps on moving, hopping up the few front steps and grabbing for the door handle. But her hand closes over his. Her hand is gentle, he’ll give her that. “Ma’am.”

“You don’t deserve to do this to us. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Jeff comes up with Jake on his heels. He moves the woman away from the door and walks past Jared as Chad follows as well. Jared looks on her carefully. “You have media in there?”

Her chin rises but she stays quiet.

Jared tries to keep the smirk off his face. This isn’t fun, but he feels a little off today, dealing with this woman trying so hard to say she’s innocent.

“You’re too young to even know. To even care. The beauty in people’s work. What they still do. It breaks my heart to know you’re taking it away. You’re taking my life and my love away.”

The determination in her voice and in her eyes when she says it, the way her face crumbles with emotion and tears break free hits his stomach and he can’t move from his spot. Jared watches her for a few moments before he hears Jeff and Chad talking about books and movies and all sorts of paraphernalia. He flashes a look inside then back at her. “Excuse me,” he mumbles before making his way inside.

*

Jeff and Jake are burning her items on her front yard while he and Chad file away the receipts at the van. The woman is cuffed to the driver’s side door handle while they wait for the ‘proper authorities’ to pick her up. When Chad moves over to the fire, she nods at Jared and her voice breaks again. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

He scoffs back at her, mostly because he’s a little tired of her arguing back. “Lady, really.”

She keeps moving toward him and reaching out as she pleads with him to just understand that “it’s all good. And it’s beautiful and dreamy and you have no idea the places your mind can wander.”

He finally presses hands into her back so she’s forced against the van - with as little force as he can manage really, because he’s not trying to rough her up, just get her out of his space. “Ma’am. You really have to - “ But he pauses because he feels the distinct outline of something he sees all too often but hasn’t felt in years. “Do you have a - “

“Just take it. Take it and watch it.”

Jared reaches below the edge of her jacket and spots a cellophane-wrapped disc tucked into her belt. He’s dumbfounded. For all the times he’s seen them and been told how horrible media is for the world today, he’s never held a piece of it in his hands for more than two seconds - just long enough to toss it to the ground and wait for it to catch fire. His thumb and forefinger squeeze against the plastic of the packaging and he’s sort of amazed to have the object in his grasp.

“Pads, when’re the Propers coming?”

He snaps to attention, tucking the disc into the front of his blues and makes his way back to Jeff. “They said ten to twenty about thirty ago.”

“Man, these guys really gotta get their act together,” Chad grumbles as he drops another book into the flames.

Jared shakes his head at the amount of discards they have to take care of. There are piles of it. He glances back to the woman, who’s now just eying him with interest for even taking the disc with him. They’d uncovered an entire library worth of items - from different prints of The Bible to crime novels to foreign, subtitled films, to compact discs containing some of the most-renowned classical singers and musicians - at least ones that he’s been told were renowned; he hasn’t lived through any of this stuff. He’s kind of amazed at the breadth of media she was housing and he wonders if the fire and energy in her eyes is reflected off her lawn or if it’s a carryover of the life she’s lived, breathed, seen, and heard through her collection.

*

When Jared returns home in the midnight hours, he strips down, finding the disc in the band of his boxers and hiding it away below all the underwear of his top drawer. Sandy is already sleeping; he knows she has an early shift at the hospital, taking some extra hours while nurses move their way throughout the local hospital system. He slides into bed, spooning her and smiling as she sleepily pushes back on his body and accepts his arms around her.

He thinks of the woman he’d encountered, the one likely imprisoned for life based on the amount of discards they torched on her front lawn. How miserable she had looked as she watched the flames engulf her possessions. It’s so fluid in his mind that he can’t sleep.

In the morning, he feels Sandy rise and hears her ready herself for work. He isn’t due in for another few hours for a short eight-hour shift before having a full twenty-four off - his first in weeks. It’s not even minutes from Sandy’s absence when he gets out of bed and rushes his way into the front room, starting up the computer and putting the disc in. He’s curious as all hell; it’s been years - years since he’s last seen anything play from a disc.

When the thing fires up, he’s awed by opening credits with mournful music playing behind script text introducing all the players and behind-the-scenes people involved in creating the piece. Soon enough, the show opens with a sunrise that’s brighter than anything he’s experienced and he’s captivated. The scenes unfold before him with drama of brothers doing their best to be family while trying to manage their family business, which he doesn’t even understand, but he sees loads of underlying tension between the men. When the two face off at a particularly understated moment - one that was likely touching for those who regularly watched the show, but to him seems a little useless and empty - he realizes he knows one of the men on his screen. It’s the guy on the porch from two shifts ago. The one in the lounge pants and glasses who’d show such degradation through the moment that it stayed with him way too long.

He shuts the thing off immediately, feeling a little too off to really complete the program. Knowing on one hand it’s wrong for him to even have this item in his possession, but also feeling like he’s intruding into someone else’s life for watching everything happen before his very eyes. He’s touched by the interaction between the men, and how affected they are by each other. But it’s wrong, it’s so wrong, he knows this. This was one of the reasons his mother told him - so many years after he cared about media, after he took this job, but not all too long ago - for why it was all outlawed. People felt too much and became way too invested in what was put before them on the screen. It brought them too far from reality and they no longer took their paths.

Jared, honey, people didn’t live their own lives anymore. They sought what was on the TV and it wasn’t true. People made it up! None of it was true! she’d lamented to him. At the time he thought he understood. It was ridiculous, for people to fall into a life they saw before them and not the one they were actually living.

But now, he feels it. He feels the pain between the brothers, and how they strive for something better. How they’re empty of what they could - should - get every day from family around them. And it makes his stomach drop and his heart stop and his brain malfunction. Because it doesn’t make sense to him - why are they so sad? Why can’t they just talk it out? Like so many people did these days without daydreams of screen dramas and fake lives before them? This world, the one planted on the computer screen, just doesn’t seem real.

He stares at the empty, blue screen for all too long. He’s not even sure what it is that forces him to do it, but he starts the show back up and takes the rest in. How these men fight each other and how they strive to matter in each other’s lives. Begging for forgiveness for some wrong one of them committed previous to this installment. How they finally seek absolution by the end of the forty minutes, but still fear what comes next as they have to face the world together, knowing what’s out there.

It scares Jared - to a point. He wonders what could happen next, what does happen next, and he’s startled by how much he cares. The disc doesn’t contain anything more, and in a moment he’s upset and mad and ready to hit something for not knowing the next chapter. But he stops because then his cell phone is ringing and he’s running to another room to catch it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, honey,” Sandy sounds out evenly.

He does his best to steel his voice from all the emotions that’s crushed his brain in the last hour. “Hi. What’s up?”

“I am so sorry, you have no idea,” she starts before rushing on. “But Brenda called in and I’m stuck here for way too long. They’re giving me a spot to sleep for a few hours, but I’m going to take her shift.”

“Really?” he asks a little distracted, tempting his fingers to start the show up again to see what he feels upon the second viewing. He quickly closes the program knowing he shouldn’t. But it’s begging him to be watched again. He can almost hear it asking for it.

“Yeah. I know it’s awful. But the overtime will be good. And I know you’re on tonight. I’ll be home again later tomorrow. Okay?”

Jared sighs, more at himself for the predicament he’s currently in than for her own problem. “Yeah, no, I get it. It’s fine.”

“Really?” she asks, skeptical. “I’m so sorry.”

He tries to ease her down. “Baby, don’t worry. I should go in soon, so you’d be home alone anyway.”

“Alright,” she sighs, and she sounds tired. “This is good, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he smiles a little. “It’s money. You’re doing great, honey.”

“Yeah,” she sighs again.

“I’m proud of you.” He really is. She is so committed to helping people at the hospital, running between patients, giving her best, sweet smile, and making their lives a little less painful. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Whenever you’re home. Don’t worry.”

“Okay.” She takes a deep breath, but sounds okay when she continues on, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Take care of yourself, yeah?”

“Of course,” Jared answers automatically.

“Jare, seriously. Be good. You’ve been so worn down lately.”

“Yeah. I know. I’ll be okay.”

She signs off with another love you and he dumps the cell phone on the computer desk before starting the program up again.

*

His mother welcomes him in the second she spots him at the doorway. She’s smiling and offering a big hug and kiss on the cheek while she sweetens him up. “Jared, honey, so glad to see you!”

He chuckles as he hugs her back, kisses her cheek, then follows her into the house. Her love and attention is a little overwhelming. “You needin’ something?”

“Just to see my boy,” she smiles, grabbing onto his hand as they walk into the living room.

They settle into the furniture, new since he’s last been here, which, if he’s being honest, is a little too long. He comments on it and she’s beaming with pride. “Figured it was time to spruce up the place, ya know?” He smirks his yeah, I know and she’s up seconds later. “You probably want something to drink! Soda? Water? Beer?” Then she frowns. “Wait, you work tonight, right?”

“Settle down,” he smirks back. “Water’s fine.”

She’s back in less than a minute and smiling at him from across the way in an armchair. Jared sips from the glass in silence, looking around his childhood living room and amazed how it feels out of place from his memories yet like it’s been frozen in time with all the same family photos and framed art on the walls. He always said he had a good childhood, but now he wonders if it could’ve been great if he had experienced different things as a kid. “How’re you doing? How’s Sandy?”

He nods. “She’s doing well. Stuck at the hospital today, but good.”

“That’s good. The cornerfolk talk about how the hospitals are dying down in the area. I worry about her.”

Jared gives a comforting smile because he knows how much his mother adores Sandy. Possibly even more than he does, which is really saying something. “No, they’re pretty busy from what she says. I’m not even sure they have enough nurses with how much overtime she’s grabbing lately.”

His mother’s mouth twists like she dreads saying what’s in her mind. “I heard at the corner that the hospitals are getting less of the real injuries and more of the Discers.”

He groans. “Mama, you gotta stop talking at the corner.” He knows that’s where gossip goes to be planted, fertilized, and spread. It’s like a live version of newspapers but worse as the people and their stories are mostly unreliable. But he also he knows it’s the only way people get any local news these days. Most of the papers have gone national.

She goes on like he hadn’t said a word. “They say the Discers are put on the third floor, and no one documents it. I can’t imagine having to work on that floor.” She all but physically shivers at the thought, and he kind of wants to, too. Knowing how little respect and care is given to those who break the Media Freeze, and to be slated for the mental ward can’t help much either. Her eyes go wide, “Sandy doesn’t do the third floor, does she?”

“No, she’s fine. She’s still doing ICU.”

“Oh, good,” and she’s visibly relaxing at that thought.

Which makes Jared frown because on a near-weekly basis, Sandy’s talking about another patient they’ve lost who couldn’t overcome how serious their ailments were. He doesn’t exactly sees that as being good. “Yeah,” he murmurs at the edge of his glass and takes a bigger sip of water.

“I’m surprised you’re not sleeping today.”

He looks up and gives a cautious smile. “It’s been a strange week.”

“How is work going? I heard you got six more houses this week.”

In holding the glass, his hands remain steady, which is a great help and allows him to hide the nerves from his mother. He stares down into it, catching how blurred his feet look through the water. “The day shift got some. We had just two, but one was a family.”

“Jared, you’re doing a wonderful job. Your father would be so proud.”

He looks up with cautious eyes and a just as cautious voice. “Really?” She nods back with a smile. He’s been feeling so cynical these last few days, especially after taking that family, and even more so when he considers the woman who gave him the disc. He’s pretty sure his dad wouldn’t see anything good from putting a family with two young children in prison.

His mother leans back in her chair and smiles. “Your daddy would love hearing all about you marchin’ across town. Upholdin’ the law.”

He’s leaning forward, elbows to knees and hands wringing around the glass. More than anything, he’s afraid of her response to the questions he really wants to ask her. The curiosity inside him is battling with that fear and it eventually wins. “Mama, you remember when the Freeze went in?”

The only thing he sees move are her eyes as they take in his face and finally go down to her knees, which are crossed over each other, like a perfect lady. “Yes,” she replies low.

His head tips to the side with interest. “What was it like?”

A hand smoothes down the fabric of her dress, pushing it flat across her thigh and down her knee. “You remember.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “I don’t.”

She looks so uncomfortable, which kind of puts him at ease. To know that it’s just as difficult for her to answer as it is for him to even ask makes the situation more bearable. He’s not embarrassed for asking because she’s apparently embarrassed to even answer him. “They just decided. We didn’t need it anymore.”

Jared scoots to the edge of the couch, gripping the glass tighter in his hands. He’s almost smiling, because his mother has never said much more than It’s the law before. “Nothing at all?”

“No.”

“But, I mean,” and he can hear how his voice is getting more involved, the level of enthusiasm growing. He puts the glass on the table in front of him and keeps eyes solid with his mother. “Why did they think we didn’t need it anymore?”

Her voice is nearly condescending, like he should know better. “Jared, honey, you know. You see what it does to those people.” The way he tips his head and looks confused prompts her to go on. “How those people react when you’re in their homes? They’re criminals and they rationalize that it’s okay to have these things because it makes them happy or sad or go crazy?”

“What if it does?” he asks before he can realize the words have formed. Suddenly, he’s a little uncomfortable.

“Those emotions aren’t natural.”

He takes a deep breath and feels the smile growing on his face, because she’s actually talking about this. “Being happy isn’t?”

“Honey, we’re happy and we don’t have that stuff.”

Jared watches her, thinking it over and he knows for a fact that he isn’t happy. He can’t speak for her, or Sandy, or the guys he works with. But none of them are exactly what he thinks of as being happy about their lives. It appears as though they just move forward, from one event to the next with as little disruption as possible. It doesn’t seem like a good way to live. And all these thoughts startle Jared because he’s never spent this much time analyzing the lives around him. But it’s only been thirty seconds to consider this and he seems to suddenly have a pretty heavy opinion on the matter.

“Jared?”

His fingers twist into each other as he fights his next words. “A lady offered me a disc. Told me to watch and see what media really does to people.”

“Oh, Jared,” she worries instantly. “Please tell me … you didn’t. You don’t have it, right? Oh, you could be in so much trouble.” There’s a pause and her face drops, eyes cold. “You didn’t bring it here? Oh, no,” and her hands go to her face, nearly covering her eyes.

She continues going on and on with her fears of Jared actually possessing such a thing, which he absolutely does, but he shushes her with the easiest voice and look he can. He’s thoroughly lying right to her face, and he’s amazed with how easy it is. “No, I didn’t take anything. It’s okay.”

Her hand presses into her chest and she’s smiling with sad eyes. “Oh, sweet Heavens. Thank you.”

His hands open, showing flat in front of him. He feels that same openness ass he admits why he’s so interested in the topic. “She just seemed so emotional about it. Like media really made her happy and gave her power to think about things other than her own life.”

“Which is exactly why we can’t have it, Jared,” his mother starts in immediately. Her voice is stern and nearly reprimanding. “We need to live our own lives. We can’t be watching other people do it for us.”

“Yeah, but,” he breaks in carefully. “They’re not doing it for us. We’re just watching how someone else imagines it.”

“Imagination,” she scoffs and then seems to smile. Like she’s amused by Jared’s opinions.

Part Two