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Chapter 16 - Using a New Tool

It was time to play. Tamara set her backpack on the chair where it usually rested while she was in the office but moved the chair closer to the new scanner device. Then she set her zapper to the high-power setting and turned its mode to continuous. What that did was to remove the damper resistor from the superconducting RF emitter loop, so rather than emitting a very short EMF pulse, her zapper now would blast a continuous RF wave directly at the scanner for as long as she held down the remote’s trigger button. Then she got a hall pass to use the girls’ room. She made a show of leaving the office and went to use the facilities. When she left the restroom, she triggered the zapper for a five-second burst. Then she took a drink at a nearby water fountain and stopped to ask a passing teacher a question. Suddenly a commotion broke out in the office.

The teacher she was talking to ran to the office and Tamara followed. When they entered the office, they smelled the acrid odor of burning electronics and smoke was drifting up from the scanner.

The teacher asked the secretary and assistant principal, who were standing a distance away from the smoking unit and staring at it. “Is it on fire?”

Mrs Leonard said, “No, there was a loud pop and then white smoke began coming out of that thing.”

A tendril of gray-white smoke was still curling out of its side.

Tamara said to them, “I better get my stuff out of there in case it does go on fire,” and took her backpack off the chair and went to stand with the others.

“Maybe we should get the fire department just in case,” Leonard said.

“Um, maybe it should be unplugged?” Tamara suggested, pointing toward its power cord.

“Good point!” the teacher said and rushed over to pull the cord out; the smoke stopped coming out of the unit after a minute.

Leonard called the fire department and reported a non-emergency but requested that a crew come to check out an overheated electronic device, which had been disconnected.

Tamara figured she’d be better off being elsewhere. “Mrs Leonard, the smoke is bothering my eyes. May I go to the Media Center? If you need me for an errand or something, I’ll be there.”

“Oh, certainly, Tamara. Sorry this happened. I’ll phone the specialist if I need you.”

When Tamara stopped in the office the following day for her office aide shift, there was still a faint acrid odor.

“Ugh. Still smells. How do you stand it, Miss W?” she asked the secretary.

“I guess I got used to it,” she answered.

“Did they figure out what happened?” Tamara asked.

“Only that there was a short in that thing and it melted part of the insides. The SiF people wanted to put another one here and Dr Barello told them, ‘Not in my school! There’s been too much disruption already.’”

Tamara took her usual seat, got out a book, and began to study. Her thoughts were on the damage her zapper had done, though. What caused such a large overload? She wondered. Maybe I need to analyze the zapper’s RF output during a long burst—never really did that.

The next time she was at the medical school electronics lab, she borrowed Tim’s signal analyzer and put her zapper device into the Faraday cage she had set up. She was testing the device’s output when Tim wandered over.

“Okay. Tell me, what mischief are you up to now?”

“I need to figure out why the field strength of my device increases so rapidly during longer pulses,” she told him. “Look, the power output increases exponentially after it’s been on longer than several milliseconds.”

“Hmm...” Tim muttered after looking at Tamara’s data. “That’s likely because your antenna circuit is superconducting—when the ballast resistor is out of the loop, there’s no resistance damping, and the current can circulate through the coil forever, basically. It’s like... goddamn, I don’t believe it, you’ve effectively created something that acts like a kind of maser here, girl.”

“What’s that?”

“A maser—that’s short for ‘microwave amplification by stimulated emission of radiation,’ Like a laser, which uses light instead of the longer microwave wavelengths. But normally you need to have some way to constrain the molecules while they’re ‘pumped’ to an excited state—a container of some kind. The microwaves are emitted when the pumped molecules return to ground state—similar to what happens to hydrogen atoms when they’re stimulated by the MRI coil’s RF pulse. The delay you saw in your device before the power increase must have been the pumping stage. Something about your coil and the reflectors—oh, and the superconducting circuit elements—must have constrained the air molecules somehow and when their transition energy was reached, a continuous beam of RF was emitted.

“This violates what I thought I knew about physics, but then quantum tunneling seemed to violate physics too. Shit. This could make a frikkin’ nasty weapon—maybe even a particle beam gun—if it’s set up with the proper components. If you tried to patent this thing, you’d have the military all over your ass trying to shut you up. I think you need to get some legal help with this one, Tamara. Talk about the mischief you’re causing!”

Tamara realized that she needed to learn a lot more physics and math for her to understand the operational theory of her device in continuous mode. But now that she knew what the device was actually doing, she could visualize several MRI applications for her circuit if it could be made small enough. But first, she needed her dad’s advice. He knew lots of people in the federal government.

“Hey Dad,” she asked when she got home that evening, “got a little problem.”

After Tamara explained the situation, he was unsure what to do.

“Tamara, maybe we should check with your patent guy first, not to make a patent application, but for advice. This can’t be the first time he’s dealt with inventions which may have a military use.”

“Okay, Dad. But I have some ideas about using that circuit in my MRI work. You think that I could keep doing that?”

“The only people who know about what you’re doing there are still Beauford, Tim, and the MRI techs, right?”

“Well, the radiologists read the scans, but they don’t actually look at the electronics,” Tamara told him. “And my testing gadgets aren’t used clinically yet. So yes, only a few people know.”

“That’s good; I guess you can keep up what you’re doing.”

~~~~

Then, two weeks into the term, in the weekly school-wide assembly, Dr Barello made the dreaded announcement.

“Students, you have all heard about the federal Naked in School Program—I hear buzzing about the Program whenever two or more students are gathered in the same place. So you know it’s coming, and the Miami-Dade School District has announced that the schools which haven’t adopted it yet must begin this spring term.”

There were muttered boos and hisses.

“Hush. I know how you all feel about it but, just like the Stripped in Florida Act, we’ll need to learn to live with it. I’ve read all the materials about the Program and I’ve heard rumors which claim that many schools have had problems with how the Program is managed, but I will make no judgment about such rumors. Just know that the excesses which have been claimed to have occurred in other schools will not happen here at Miami Edison High.

“Now, to introduce the Program to you, and show you a video clip about it, I want you to meet a new addition to our staff, assigned to Edison by the regional Program Office, as the school’s Program coordinator. Mr Laslo Kovacs, please come to the podium. He will be in charge of all Program activities here and will be meeting with your teachers soon to give them the materials and curricula they will be adding to their classes in support of the Program. Mr Kovacs?”

He appeared from offstage, walked to the podium, and took the mike out of its stand. Then he moved away from the podium.

When he appeared, Tamara felt a jolt of warning. Seeing him kicked her premonition sense into overdrive. But she was too far away to sense anything specific; there were too many strong and conflicting emotions roiling the hall.

“Thank you, Principal Barello,” Kovacs said in a high, thin voice in stilted, slightly accented, English. “Hello, children...”

The room erupted with growls and snorts.

“Please. Control yourselves. One of the things the Program does is teaching respect for authorities.”

Tamara noticed that Barello winced at that statement; Tamara had already felt the very bad taste increase when Kovacs had begun speaking.

Kovacs began with what he called the Program objectives.

“This paragraph is printed in the pamphlets you will get next term when we start the Program here. I will read it. ‘The Program has been carefully designed to help you become more comfortable with your body and your sexuality, to treat others in natural balance as both individual people and sexual beings, to learn to harness your natural energies, and to behave in a more mature and morally conscious manner. By becoming more comfortable with your body and sexuality, your sexual tensions will be diminished. This is your opportunity for rapid personal growth.’”

Tamara had read that statement on the official federal Naked in School website and considered it to be total nonsense.

Kovacs began enumerating the various Program rules.

“Nudity is required everywhere for the full week, even coming to school if you use a school bus, anywhere on school property, and at all school-sponsored events. Program participants are required to display themselves to any student and must perform any activity that is requested of them, including allowing the touching of their naked body. This is called ‘Reasonable Requests.’ Teachers may require participants to perform activities beyond those permitted by the Reasonable Requests. Participants may request of the teacher to be allowed to get sexual relief, by themselves or with another person’s help, during the first five minutes of class time, and we will expect that all participants will avail themselves of this benefit, which is called ‘Relief.’”

He went on, giving various specific details about the rules and punishments for non-compliance.

“Now I will show the video prepared by the federal Office of Social Awareness, that is the national office that is in charge of the Program.”

The lights dimmed and a video began playing. Tamara watched as various talking heads began extolling the social and psychological benefits of the Program. To try to show that nudity was becoming more acceptable to the general public, the video showed clips of naked bike rides, naked beaches, body-painting festivals, and naked attendees at rock concerts. But Tamara quickly noticed Westminster Abbey in the background of the bike ride clip and a sign reading ‘FKK-Strandbereich’ which appeared for a moment in the beach video.

The cheats used European scenes, she thought, but their video implies that the scenes were from the U.S.

When the narrator began a voice-over discussion of what she referred to as “sexual positivity,” clips of teens doing all kinds of pornographic activities with each other in school hallways and classrooms were playing. Tamara closed her eyes and tuned out.

On the way out of the auditorium, each student was handed a packet of documents to have their parents sign and return. The documents were not permission forms; they were acknowledgments that the parents/guardians had been informed that their child would be selected to be naked in school and would be required to engage in supervised and unsupervised sexual activities. The parents/guardians were requested to sign, acknowledging and accepting any risks of these activities, and their signature would absolve the school and the Miami-Dade School District and School Board of any and all liability on their part in supporting and promoting the mandated Naked in School activities in the name of a required federal education program.

There was also a permission form giving the school approval to administer a birth-control and sexually-transmitted disease inoculation which was required of all girls in the Program.

When Tamara’s parents came home, she took out the packet. When Tamara handed the forms to her parents, she told Wilson, “Dad, don’t explode, but here are the papers for that naked program crap.”

He took the papers and scanned them; then frowned.

Tamara was quite acquainted with that frown. Her father was well and truly pissed.

“This is nonsense,” Wilson exclaimed after he read through the forms again. “Of course I’m not giving them a bye on any liability.”

“Dad, I can’t take the birth-control either, remember?” Tamara pointed out.

“That’s right,” he said. “I’ll return these forms saying that we will not sign them and, on the advice of your doctor, we forbid that they give you any hormones.”

He filled out the forms, noting on them his refusal to sign, and mailed them back to the school.

Little Haiti, Miami, Florida: mid-September

“You look really intent,” Wilson said when he came into his home about two weeks later.

Tamara was busy working at her laptop, reading the screen and moving from page to page on the site that was displayed.

“Found a site that has kids’ info about the Program in their schools,” she replied. “Oh... before that... I heard in the office that lots of parents refused to sign those forms so that Program guy’s gonna be calling parents to go to the school to see him. They’re going alphabetically, so you’ll get a call soon. On the computer here, this whole website is devoted to Program activities in the schools and kids can post their experiences on a forum in here and tell about problems that are happening in their schools.”

“Okay, we’ll deal with the school when they contact us. So how do they keep the feds from shutting them down?” Wilson asked.

“Um, I’m reading... Okay. They explain that right on the first page, actually. Let me go back,” she said, reading. “Here. It tells what they’re doing to stay on line. They’re using proxy servers and hiding the location of the website’s hosting server. You know, there’s gotta be some money behind that—I’m sure it takes lots of resources to hide a web server the way they’ve done.”

She and Wilson spent a while reading pages on the site and soon Nadine arrived home.

“My, what’s so interesting on there?” she asked.

“Information about the Program in schools,” Wilson replied. “This is really disturbing stuff.”

“Yeah, reading this, there’s no way that I’ll do any of that stupid naked nonsense,” Tamara insisted. “Mom, I found this website and it has all kinds of stories about that naked program in the schools where they have it.”

“Yeah, Nadine, this Program crap is evil. No wonder the feds don’t want to let any information be published. Looking at this site, people will be able to see how bad the Program really is for kids.”

“What did you see there?”

“Well, for starters, there’s a forum where people can write up what happens at their school. I saw two posts where they told about kids who were so traumatized that they suicided...”

“Oh god...”

He went on, “... and other posts talk about kids they knew about who were hospitalized for depression or shock. A couple of posts say that lots of kids in the Program at their school need to take anti-anxiety meds to make it through their days.”

“Why? I haven’t heard about any of this happening with SiF kids in school. What’s different now?” Nadine asked.

“It’s not just nudity, Mom. Remember that news program we heard? They said that the Program kids have to allow anyone who wants to touch them down there. They have to do nasty things in classes for the teachers and they let the kids do intercourse too, even if a kid doesn’t want to do it.”

“Oh, that’s terrible...”

Wilson pointed to the screen. “And let me tell you some more of the things it says on the site. It says that the Program forces the naked kids to use the opposite sex’s bathrooms and locker rooms—and here’s a posting about a girl who was assaulted by six boys in the boys’ locker room, it was an attempted rape. A P.E. teacher happened to come in and he stopped it.”

Nadine was shaking her head in horror.

“There’s much more, Mom. There’s a doctors’ section and the postings there are from medical people. Let me read some. ‘I’ve been seeing unusual pelvic injuries on boys and girls now as a result of some of the things they’re forced to do.’ Another from a urologist: ‘Our office has treated penile abrasions and testicular trauma in some boys and urinary tract infections in girls caused by manipulation of their perineum with dirty fingers.’ A gynecologist wrote: ‘I’m seeing all kinds of new vaginal problems ranging from blunt trauma to internal infections.’

“Then ones from some kids: ‘My biggest problem was the groping. I got poked and prodded all week and my body was sore and bruised from all the abuse. Kids would jam their fingers into my snatch and even my butt without asking.’ And one girl wrote about what a teacher did, ‘I was made to take part in a class demo on female sexuality and the teacher fondled me to try to force me to come. When I didn’t, he said I must be frigid and took out a dildo and jammed it in my vaj. I was a virgin and it really hurt. I had to see the nurse for the bleeding and some abrasions.’”

“Can’t they stop that?” Nadine asked in horror.

“Apparently not—the kids are forced to do what they’re told,” Wilson said. “I read several accounts in there where the kids violently resisted being forcibly stripped. Many of the cases on this forum told about injuries, some serious, and there was property damage too. One kid threw a chair at a teacher and broke several of his ribs; in another case, when teachers tried to restrain a student to strip her, she struggled, fell and hit her head, got a serious brain injury, and is in a wheelchair now.”

Tamara went on, “They also force kids into the Program for additional naked time for doing things that have nothing to do with the Program. Like being late to school or talking in class or not turning in homework. This is all really scary. No way will I do any of that, and I’ll do whatever I can to help others resist, too.”

“Why do you think this is different from the SiF kids in school—the, um, groping stuff?” Nadine asked.

Wilson nodded. “That seems to be a big piece of it. The only thing it has in common with the Naked in School Program is that they both require nudity. But... no one may touch a SiF kid in any way without the kid’s permission—there are huge penalties if they do. In NiS, permitting the touching is required—hell, it seems that permitting abuse is required. NiS kids are required to allow themselves to be groped—that’s called ‘reasonable requests’ under the Program, but from what I read here, the word ‘reasonable’ is a joke. Nothing seems to be unreasonable.”

Tamara cut in, “If you refuse a request that you think is unreasonable, it looks like they can make you repeat the Program week. If you don’t complete your Program week, they don’t let you graduate. Also, teachers can use you in the classroom for demonstrations. You just heard what can happen in classrooms and that was just one example out of bunches I read there.”

“They also make kids masturbate in front of the classroom,” Wilson told her.

“Yeah—it’s called ‘relief’ and you have to do it yourself or can have someone help,” Tamara said. “You saw it in that Program description that came with the consent forms, remember? I read plenty of times that was a source of abuse too. And you saw from that post how girls have to use boys’ bathrooms and gym showers—and the boys have to use the girls’. Some schools even take photos and videos of the kids and put the pictures on the school’s website.”

Nadine had slumped into a chair. “This is overwhelming. I had no idea... Tamara, do you want to withdraw and start home schooling again? You probably don’t even need any more high school; I’ll bet you could go straight into college.”

“No, Mom, I want to stay with what we planned. I like the classes I’m taking now. I’m advanced just in math and physics, the other sciences—not in anything else. But reading the stuff on that website ... I’d love to mess with anyone in the school who tries to abuse kids. That’s a thought... With my abilities, wow, I could really do some stuff...”

“Ahem. About that,” Wilson began. “I...”

“No, wait,” Nadine stopped him. “Years ago, I spoke to Tamara...she had a different name then...”

Tamara chuckled, “No, you just THINK I had another name.”

“Right, well, I told her about our Vodou beliefs and how they influence the behavior between all people. We all try to work together as a community and highly value community service and social and civil justice. We treat people who need help like our own family and do whatever is in our power for them. Tamara’s taken my words to heart ever since that chat we had and I’m proud of her for being so caring. This naked business is well over the top as far as its being a social abomination and Tamara wants to help anyone abused by the system that’s supposed to help them develop into adults—the schools.”

Tamara broke in. “Excuse me, Mom, I want to resist but I have some real misgivings about using my abilities on teachers and even students. Even if it’s against the naked program. And also, I’d feel bad about doing any physical damage if I needed to. I need your advice about ‘pushing’ people to interfere with that naked program.”

“All right, that’s an important point,” Nadine replied. “Let’s do what our Vodou tradition has always told us to do when we have a momentous decision to make. In our ceremonies, when we are close to the lwa, we can ask for guidance. At our worship ceremony on Friday evening, with our congregation there, we can ask for guidance then.”

Nadine and Tamara began to discuss what to do at the ritual and Nadine decided that Wilson had to be included as well.

~~~~

The worship service set for Friday was to begin in an hour.

“I know you don’t usually attend our rites,” Nadine told Wilson, “but this time it’s important that you do. I had a dream last night that Papa Legba has important advice and that you must be prepared to receive it. I don’t like doing an alamyet service—without drums, so I really hope that our ountògi will come. Their drumming always makes our experience better—the volunteers do try but it’s not as good.”

Wilson knew that drumming is a major part of the Vodou ritual and the drums that are used are special. Nadine’s Haitian drums had been lost in the earthquake but fortunately, several experienced drummers, ountògi, in their Little Haiti area had been curious about the new ounfò in the community and had attended a few rituals with her. Liking what they had seen, they became somewhat regular members of Nadine’s little congregation.

Wilson nodded. “And their drums are works of art.”

“True. They’re beautiful; what I had in Aubry doesn’t compare. I wish I knew what happened to Manman’s. When she disappeared, I was able to get a lot of her things from her ounfò, but the drums were gone. They were antiques from Dahomey, I think.”

“I never learned about the drums. My maman was a manbo; she taught me about the Vodou religion, but not about the drums,” Wilson told her.

“There are three drums, basically,” Nadine answered. “The main drum is called the manman; it’s the ‘mother’ of the ensemble and sets the rhythm’s backbone; it’s the drummers’ time-keeper. Think of the bass guitar, which ‘grounds’ the group’s sound. Next there’s the segon; that’s a medium-sized drum and works in the ensemble like the rhythm guitar in a rock group. The segon player sets the basic drumming pattern around which the manman player weaves the underlying beat. The segon is played with two hands, like the other drums, but the drummer will sometimes use a stick. The smallest drum is called the boula and provides the beat to which the worshipers dance. The pattern and rhythm this player uses is the most complicated and it’s the soul of Vodou drumming. Done well, its effect is hypnotic. Oh, and there’s the bell, too. It’s called the ogan.

“Each nanchon has its own set of drumming styles, variations, and conversations between the drums. I use the Rada style; that’s the most common in Port-au-Prince drumming. My favorites are the Zèpòl, Mayi, and Dawòmen rhythms, but there are many others. Usually the boula begins and sets the rhythm to be used. Then the segon enters. When the manman comes in, the beating comes fully to life.”

“It does. When I hear it, I feel something move in my spirit,” Wilson said. “Okay, instead of just being present in the room, I’ll join into the ritual.”

“Good. It’ll be an experience, you’ll see.”

It was time and as Nadine’s congregation assembled, she spoke to Tamara and Wilson.

“I will guide you both if you need it but somehow I don’t think I’ll need to tell you very much. When the drumming for the dance starts, be prepared to join me.”

Several minutes later, Nadine greeted the group and welcomed them to her ounfò.

“We will have a ritual of guidance tonight. If you need advice about your lives, your health, your relationships, your careers, any guidance at all, please join in our worship and pray to the lwa to answer.”

Nadine began the ceremony formally, first with a prayer drawn from the Roman Catholic liturgy, and then praying to Papa Legba to appear and to bring his spiritual guidance. Then after sacrificing a sanctified chicken, she invited the remaining lwa to come, by name, and join with their worshipers. In order, she invoked the lwa by their name for those whose advice she sought. She sprinkled handfuls of cornmeal on the floor and drew in the cornmeal the outlines of their vèvès using a small bundle of branches; then she sprinkled a cup of rum over the drawings.

Then the group’s singers began chanting and three ountògi, the ritual drummers, took their places as the dancing began. The drummers begin to beat out syncopated rhythms as they carefully watched the dancers and soon their rhythms and the dancers’ movements came together.

Nadine drew Wilson and Tamara from their chairs and whispered to them to begin moving to the rhythm of the drummers. Wilson began to move and gradually became lost in the syncopated beating; soon after he begun he felt as if a great weight had settled on his back and his legs almost buckled. When he began to feel like he was fading, losing his energy, Tamara came close and took hold of his arm.

“Daddy,” she whispered, “Ogorin’s very strong. Show him you’re strong too and he’ll guide you! Hold my arm like I’m holding yours and think of what you need to know. And move with the drums.”

Wilson resumed his dancing but he was moving differently now. He continued dancing for perhaps an hour, now showing no signs of tiring. It was no longer Wilson who was dancing alone; he was together with Ogorin, the warrior lwa.

Tamara was moving to the drumming too, now apart from her father, dancing with a beatific expression, her lips moving silently as if she were conversing with someone. Nadine was watching her congregation, in one case having to help a woman get up from the floor from where she had fallen, her face twisted in an expression of joy. She could no longer stand by herself so Nadine helped her to a chair.

Another hour later, the worship ceremony ended and both Wilson and Tamara suddenly found themselves exhausted. After they helped Nadine restore everything to their proper places and cleaned up, they returned home.

Wilson slumped into the couch. “Man! That was mind-blowing! Like a roller coaster. I’m dead tired too.”

Nadine smiled. “You found your mentor—your patron, I take it.”

“You mean Ogorin, the warrior lwa. Yes, but I never realized that his influence has been part of me all of my life. He showed me the things I’ve done that he helped me with; he wants to help now by showing me how our government has gone wrong by mistreating our kids, the government must be responsible to the needs of the people, not to order them to do immoral things. He told me that he can lend his strength to Tamara through both prophecy and her ability. That we shouldn’t worry about her using her abilities to help her fellow children.”

Nadine chuckled. “I always knew that Ogorin was with you. I could sense it when we first met and that’s what drew me to you the most strongly. You know that we Haitians believe that a man’s patron lwa reflects either his innermost nature or its diametric opposite. Ogorin is precisely that, he is both a warrior and a diplomat, fierce and passive, active and withdrawn, a leader and a follower. Your nature is all of those. I think I noticed when you were first mounted—Tamara came to help?”

“That part is cloudy. A great weight settled on me, I think, and I felt woozy.”

“Ah. That was the aspect of Ogorin Feraille then; he presents himself to his servitors by leaning heavily on them or slapping them on the back. Be happy he didn’t have you do other things reputed to him, like having you wash your hands in flaming rum...”

“Ouch!”

“Yes, but his servitors aren’t hurt from doing it. Like Polynesian fire-walkers, I suppose. You already proved your mettle to him during battle. And you, young miss, I noticed you had a very long communion tonight.”

“Ahh, Manman, they were awesome,” Tamara sighed. “First, Ogorin told me to help Daddy ‘cause he would need a little ... um, focus? Yeah. Focus at first. Then both Erzulie Mansur and Granne Erzulie came. I never felt such strong love—sorry, Mom and Dad, but this was like being bathed in love like a protecting blanket covering me.”

“No wonder you were glowing like that, darling,” Nadine told her. “Erzulie Mansur is the lwa of maternal love; she is the protector of children from harm. And her manman is Granne Erzulie who is the lwa of grand-motherly kindness and love. Can you tell us their message?”

“It wasn’t really words. It was an emotional feeling that my protective instincts that I have toward the other kids are appreciated and valued by them. I can call on them whenever I need help. And that Ogorin is also willing to help, to protect kids I want to help. And did you know that Papa Legba is the trickster, too?”

“Yes I did; that’s in the Dahomey tradition of the lwa,” Nadine replied.

“Papa Legba enjoys a good joke so he’s willing to help with any innocent mischief I can cause. Nothing evil, though,” Tamara said. “And I felt some support from other lwas, feelings really different from anything I experienced before. I got the impression that other lwas want to help me too.”

“So that means you’ll use your abilities to get out of doing the Program?” Nadine asked.

“And help other kids in school too. I wish there was a way to ... oh! Wait...”

Tamara had sunk into a deep reverie. Wilson was alarmed but Nadine reassured him, “It’s part of her wonderful gift. Like Manman, she can sometimes commune outside of our worship ceremonies and our dreams.”

“Oh... shit... sorry, you didn’t hear that, okay?” Tamara exclaimed as she returned to awareness, blinking. “It’s just awful! When I said I wanted to protect kids... every kid... suddenly Erzulie Mansur came to me. There’s something horrible about the Program, Dad—it’s sinister. Erzulie Mansur doesn’t communicate by words—she talks by emotions—so I don’t know what it is, but it’s real bad. I’ll try to see if I can find out any more, but I definitely have the lwas’ permission to ‘push’ when I think it’s necessary.”

Miami Edison High School: late September

In school, Tamara learned that she hadn’t been the only one who had found that private anti-NiS website. Other kids at Edison had found it too, and during that week, news of the site had spread like wildfire through the school. During the days following their discovery of the site, with much trepidation, the kids were raptly following the news from students at other schools about their own Program experiences—use of the site had exploded and new postings were appearing every second, since news of the site’s existence had gone viral among high-school students nationwide.

Tamara met with her friends at school lunch on the day following her discovery of the anti-NiS site. These friends were mainly friends of convenience—she didn’t, for example, share her private thoughts or even much personal information with them. She realized that she tended to be a loner and hadn’t made any very close friends. This disappointed her but she realized that the three-year difference in age—her thirteen years to the sixteen-year-old juniors—was a significant difference, but when she spoke to some of the freshman girls, she saw that she had nothing at all in common with them. The group of girls she was closest to tended to be the high-achievers; they were viewed as “nerdettes” by the “in crowd” and tended to be ignored by the school’s social cliques.

“So the damn Program’s really coming, and look what happens to the kids in it,” Linda, the girl that Tamara considered to be her closest friend, fumed.

“Sure. And it’s gonna be running in Northwestern,” Jamie said as the others nodded. “Starts there in October.”

Kathy shook her head. “This is so unfair... I know you guys must have read about all the shit that happens in the schools with it? On that site?”

“Yeah” ... “Damn” ... “Ugh” ... “Sure.”

“I told my folks that I want to be home schooled if that crap starts here,” Maddie grumped. “They said they’d think about it. But that’s parent code for ‘no.’”

“Guys... if they do start it, let’s make a team and figure out a way... you know, lots of kids wrote on that site how kids in their schools resisted,” Carlos commented. “Let’s read the stuff there and see if we can do any of that. My uncle’s a lawyer and he told me about the assault laws—told me that according to the law, someone can’t hold you while another person strips you. He said that’s sexual battery. Even with the way they changed the laws.”

Tamara joined the discussion. “Acting as a united group would give us a lot of power. But the authorities know this and they try to spread ideas to try to break up organized opposition. We need some kind of communicating channel to bring others into a group we can try starting. We’re the social outcasts at Edison, so if we try to start a group on our own say-so, we’d get laughed at. Let’s wait to see what everyone finds out from that website. Get ideas from there, like Carlos said.”

They all agreed that they’d search the postings to try to get protective ideas.

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