Chapter One: Sight
Three metro stops were all that remained of Zoe's old life. She had ridden this line every day for years, and she could feel the time between each stop in her bones and recite every word the electronic notification system would speak. After the next three stops, Freedom Palace, Museum of Progress and People's Plaza, she would disembark at Central Ublat, just like she had done a thousand times before. But on this occasion, a few things would be different.
For one, it was approaching midnight, and she was the only passenger. When Zoe usually took this journey, she was squashed in like a sardine with her fellow citizens at eight o'clock in the morning. Zoe didn't usually find herself traveling to work at this late hour, but she had left something important unfinished, and had to ensure its completion before morning. Such was her dedication to the People. Or at least, that is what she had told her residential manager.
Zoe's wore her dark hair loose, and its long, flowing tresses hid a plaster behind her right ear. This plaster concealed the small wound she'd inflicted on herself in the process of jailbreaking her own mind.
<It's almost time,> said a voice in her head. <Have you located the package?>
The voice belonged to a man she knew as Yvain, her contact with the underground resistance movement. She'd had a difficult time getting him to trust her, communicating only through net messages, but eventually he'd given her instructions for the dangerous and highly illegal alterations she'd made to her Citizen's Mental Regulator (CMR) implant two days earlier, using a scalpel and a couple of mirrors. That she'd been willing to go through with it and then let him into her mind appeared to have been enough to get him fully on her side.
<I told you already, there is no package,> she thought back at him. <I've searched this whole train already!>
Zoe felt another wave of annoyance from Yvain, and it made her feel annoyed too. It was odd, having another human take the place of her implant's AI helper, which never experienced emotions.
<Well look again,> Yvain's voice echoed. <There's only one stop left before you need to get off.>
Pouting, Zoe made a show of searching the train car. She allowed Yvain to access her visual cortex, just to make sure he knew how thoroughly she was searching, as she futilely poked under seats and inside bins. The package Yvain had told her was waiting for her on this very train, in this very car, was missing in action. And he'd been so adament that she wait ten minutes for this specific train as well.
There was a long moment of silence in Zoe's head. The train stopped at Museum of Progress, and the car doors opened and closed with a couple of pneumatic hisses. As the train pulled off, Yvain sighed deeply and admitted that the package was indeed missing. Some robot had probably assumed it was garbage and thrown it out, or maybe Yvain's contacts hadn't been able to plant it in the first place.<The life of a fugitive is fraught with uncertainty,> he reminded Zoe.
<I know what I'm getting into,> Zoe thought back.
<Do you really? Have you thought about what it means, that the package is not here? Considering what it contained...>
Zoe mentally scoffed. <The City won't be able to track any resistance members down, just from a package containing some clothes. Not unless you printed the hideout's address on the labels. You didn't, right?>
More emotions leaked into Zoe's mind. She could feel frustration and, was that... embarrassment? <Could they track the sender?> she asked. The idea of a member of the resistance being caught while assisting her made Zoe feel sick.
The frustration increased. <Of course not. We're very careful about these things. The package is rigged with a mechanism that dissolves its contents if it's not opened within a certain amount of time, and there's nothing identifiable about the clothes inside anyway—that's really the whole point.>
Zoe felt relieved. She let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
<Do you... remember what you were supposed to do with the package?> Yvain's words were accompanied by a tinge of... guilt? Shame? Nervousness? The sensation of another's emotions in her mind was still new to Zoe, and she couldn't always figure them out.
<Of course,> she replied. <I was to open it up and change into the clothes I found inside. Good thing this train's empty! The City primarily tracks us through our CMRs, but also through our uniforms, so I was to place my uniform on an empty seat, to fool it into thinking I stayed onboard.>
<Well, that part of the plan hasn't changed.>
Zoe's eyes widened as she made the mental connection. <Oh.>
<I'm going to take this opportunity to remind you that all City-made textiles are woven with innumerable tiny chips. Every last one.>
Zoe felt her insides twist. <Right, yes, you've said as much before. Guess we'll need a change of plans, then. Maybe we can try again tomorrow night. Do you have another way of getting packages to me?>
Coldness overcame Zoe's mind. <Something you'll have to learn about the Resistance, Zoe, is that we don't generally have the resources for contingency plans. Even if we could spare another welcome package, delivery is a dangerous mission in itself.>
Zoe gasped, audibly. <But you said—!>
<I don't think anyone got caught with the original package, calm down,> Yvain clarified. <It was probably just found and thrown out by a robot. We'll just have to do without it.>
<Okay,> Zoe replied, deflated. <I'll take the train back home and we can try something else tomorrow night.>
<That's not an option. We can't risk detection of your jailbroken CMR. There have been too many close shaves already.> Zoe thought back to the suspicious look she'd received from her residence manager just before leaving home. <But you knew that when you picked up the scalpel. Your old life is over Zoe, there's no turning back now.>
<But that means...>
<Yes.>
The train stopped at People's Plaza. Once more, the doors hissed open. Zoe remained seated, fingering the collar of her purple jumpsuit nervously, still not quite believing what Yvain was asking her to do. After a few seconds, the doors closed, and the train continued on towards Central Ublat. Her stop. In a few minutes, she would need to disembark.
<It's the middle of the night, there's no-one around,> thought Yvain, in a tone he probably thought was reassuring. <With your CMR jailbroken, none of the robots or computers will be able to detect you. All you need to do is walk a few blocks.>
If Zoe didn't get off at Central Ublat, she would be breaking the trust of the Resistance, after committing the very serious crime of jailbreaking her CMR. The City would not forgive her for that. She would have no-one.
<It's not that cold tonight,> continued Yvain. <Good thing we've been having this heatwave, right?>
Zoe reminded herself that seasoned Resistance operatives had undertaken much more dangerous missions than this. Whatever sacrifices it would take to officially join them tonight would pale in comparison to the sacrifices she would be required to make as a full member.
She had expected this, her first mission to be dangerous. But she hadn't expected it to be... embarrassing!
<You're sure there's no other way?> Zoe asked.
<I'm truly sorry,> replied Yvain, and Zoe could feel his genuine empathy. <I'll have something for you when you arrive.>
She had made the choice to join the Resistance with what she had imagined was full knowledge of the consequences. This was unexpected. But anything had to be better than returning to her old life. Even this.
Most of the city's population was under curfew, and those who weren't would be hard at work inside. The streets were all but deserted this late at night. That's why they had chosen this time to do it. And she would be careful not to get caught. Embarrassment would be the least part of the consequences for getting caught.
Zoe leaned forward and undid the straps on her boots. Then she pulled her feet out, one by one, and took off both socks. The air felt good against her bare feet, still sore from a long day's work, and she wiggled her toes.
Zoe stood up on bare feet, feeling lightheaded. Her hands shook as they reached for the zipper that rested near her clavicle. She took a deep breath, and began to pull it down.
<We're almost there,> Yvain reminded her.
The zip stopped at her waist. She released it and allowed the top of the jumpsuit to fall, exposing her arms and stomach. It caught at her waist, and she helped it down, until it lay pooled about her feet. There was certain symbolism in this, Zoe mused. By removing the tracked clothes, she was casting off the chains that the City had held her in for so many years.
The train would be arriving at Central Ublat in less than a minute. Zoe didn't have time to stand about in her underwear, which, as Yvain made sure to remind her, was just as full of tracking chips as her jumpsuit. It was also starchy and uncomfortable, and, she reminded herself, represented bondage to a regime she hated. Even so, she hesitated to remove either garment.
Zoe had known she would need to get undressed on the train, so this part of the process was not something she was wholly unprepared for. They'd chosen an empty commuter train in the middle of the night for this reason. Still, Zoe had spent much of the afternoon dreading this eventuality. Hands still shaking, she reached for the clasp of her bra and undid it.
The bra fell on top of the jumpsuit. Her breasts drooped slightly, and she could feel her long hair against them.
Now she had only her panties to remove. Unlike the last two garments, these were tight enough that she couldn't just let them fall. Zoe had to, very consciously, slide her thumbs under the fabric and pull it down her legs, until it joined the pool of purple and white fabric at her feet.
Freedom, she told herself, as she stepped out of the pooled fabric, feeling far more exposed and vulnerable than free. Rebirth was probably a better word. She had discarded her old life, and begun her new one, naked as the day she was born.
The train would arrive at her stop in thirty seconds. Zoe picked up the jumpsuit and deposited both her panties and bra inside it before pulling the zip back up. She placed it back on her seat, stuffing the legs into her boots. It now looked as though a person sitting on the train seat had magically vanished out of their clothes.
