Chapter Two Sam and I became good friends over the next two weeks. Saturday, the only day I could go out of my apartment without fear, was often spent at Music Madness. Sam and I talked over the atrocities of the government, the things we wished we could change, and the good old days before the government became so maniacal. One Saturday evening, around 6:00, I was sitting in the place, feet on a table, sipping water and reading a propaganda news bulletin when the phone rang. "Stephanie!" Sam's voice rang out through the air. "Can you answer that?" "Sure," I muttered, dropping the paper and sailing over to the black and gold phone hanging on the wall. "This is Music Madness," I said, as I picked up the receiver. A low shadowy voice spoke barely above a whisper, "Stephanie! Meet me at Homeschooler Hangout in 30 minutes." The line was disconnected, leaving me with a strong feeling of insecurity and confusion. "Who was that on the phone?" I whirled around to see Sam, staring at me. "Uh, nothing Sam. Just a wrong number." "Oh," he didn't seem to care. "I'm going to get some sandwiches for the club, care to join me?" "No!" I exclaimed. Then I lowered my tone to a more casual voice. "No, I was thinking, I want a nice walk before, you know, the work starts again. I'm just going to cruise around town. Maybe you can come to tea at my apartment this week or something, bye!" I waved nervously as I donned my coat and scarf and hurried outside. Why can't I just tell him the truth? He's my friend, my secrets lie safe with him. Oh, no. I couldn't. This could involve work, something classified. But, I have already told him about work! Oh, no, I can't tell him everything now, can I? What have I got to lose though? What have I got to lose? My thoughts wandered as I marched down the street, rows of buildings, till I found Homeschooler Hangout, I had founded it before I was drafted for a government job. The place was basically run by the patrons. In the door I stepped, the jolly old bell on the door ringing crisp and clear. I closed the door and looked around. Lots of familiar faces, but which one of them gave me the mysterious call? I felt somebody grab my arm and pull me out on the street. I instantly went into self-defense mode and hurled them three feet away from me. Then I stared at the person. "Essa?" I stared in surprise. Essa Kryze pulled a blue hood off and looked at me. "Oh," she said. "You probably don't know me, but, well, I know you."' I raised an eyebrow. "Well, Essa, dearie, I'm sorry I don't have time for a lovely little chit-chat with you. But, you know, when you grab a person and force them onto the street, they find themselves with a packed schedule! So, maybe someday I'll see you again." Essa stared at the ground. "Ooooooh! Stephanie Jarrek you make a person mad! I gave you that suspicious phone call, don't you know?" I studied her. "And why would you do that?" "Because," Essa jumped up and down in hysteria. "Don't you understand?? Ugh! No, you don't. I was drafted, I was drafted to be a Writer! The replacer of documents you Whitewashers destroy!" I pointed a finger at Essa. "Look, I feel really sorry for you, I honestly do. But I was pulled into being a Whitewasher, memory erased. Boomer revived my memory. Now the memory loss program is over, so you'll never have to go through what I went through. I live in a three room apartment and am only permitted to leave Friday-Sunday for leisure. If I want exercise I have to go to the fenced-in apartment yard. I feel like a prisoner. I'm locked in my apartment for days. The only thing making me live a slightly decent life is that I have privacy. Nobody has cameras, recording devices or inspections of my apartment. Government Employee Immunity, it's called. You can't stop them from taking you and forcing you to live a regulated life." Essa blinked. "But I don't want to do this! I want you to help me." I stared at the sky and moaned. "Oh, Essa. I can't erase your drafting documents." "How come?" She demanded. I stared at the sky, thinking of the trouble I'd get in. Possibly even fired, but wait, didn't I want to be fired? I looked back at Essa. "I'll do it." She looked thrilled. "Stephanie, thank you!" I shrugged. "What have I got to lose?"
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