Sedition by Alicia Cameron

despite our academic debates behind closed doors, I am still expected to play slave at social functions, whether at my master’s legitimate business or at his other business. The work for Dean & Chanu is easier, because I usually don’t need to care about it. Cash is polite and cordial, I play the pretty, dumb slave, and all is well. The words that are spoken mean less than nothing to me, now that I know it is little more than a front. I can relax; sometimes even flirt with coworkers who seem interested in me, because it makes Cash seem more normal. He fits in this way, and I’m happy to help him.
    He makes progress toward our research as well, making com calls to strangers, sending messages, even setting up meetings with people in strange places. He lets me in on the details, confiding every illicit act, risky alliance, and shady arrangement. There are no more barriers between us, at least, not on his end. In response, I start to offer him little pieces of my life as well; bits of my history, stories about my childhood, about me and Abriel, things I’ve always hoped. It’s not so terribly painful to consider memories and hopes anymore, because I have new ones. We become more connected, more powerful as a team. He takes me out with him everywhere now, and I make him look like a reputable slaveholder. It’s easy to hold my tongue and play nice; now that I know what the stakes are, and what our goal is, it’s not a simple test of my obedience. It’s smarter to stay quiet and observant than it is to run my mouth, no matter how much I want to.
    The project-related social functions are an exciting challenge, because I am completely informed about what is happening now. I understand the subtle hints and turns of phrase between Cash and others as they discuss “the project” in hushed tones, because only some of the people attending really know what they are working on. In general, it seems that everyone in attendance has some sort of underground dealings or secret businesses, but nobody knows who is working on what.
    At first, no one but Cash knows the true purpose of his research; even some of his potential backers, like Torenze, think that he is conducting business on more legitimate things. He lets word slip out carefully, through informal channels, that his research is on the re-education centers, and on slaves. He preps me before we go, letting me know that I am to be his ears. After casually mentioning his research interests to a group of people, he glances around, making a show of finding a bathroom.
    “Would you mind keeping an eye on my boy?” he asks. “The bathrooms here are so crowded. I’d hate to take up extra space. He’ll entertain you, if you want.”
    They smile amenably, waiting until he’s out of earshot to begin discussing him. They pet and play with me as they do, nothing awful, just a hand on my head, or my ass, something like that. Sometimes I even kneel at their feet, innocuous as a house pet, and they speak freely in front of me just the same.
    “He’s got some interesting ideas,” one man comments. “But it’s too risky. Messing with the Demoted system is a sure way to get the law after you.”
    “I don’t think it necessarily has to be illegal,” another woman comments. I make my way over to her, nuzzling against her legs to be sure I hear her. “There are plenty of good improvements. Besides, the Demoted system is getting past the point of usefulness. Kids today are so obsessed with the Assessment, they do nothing else. It’s unhealthy.”
    “What’s unhealthy is fighting that system,” another comments, looking at me. “Aren’t you worried about your master?”
    I smile up, feigning innocence. “Sometimes he can take a long time in the bathroom, ma’am,” I reply, smiling at her like I have no idea what she’s even asking. “That’s probably why he didn’t want me to come with him.”
    They laugh at my expense, and I laugh along with them. They think I’m too