The Harvest by K. Makansi Page B

I look, but you’re here.”
    â€œWhat of it?” He doesn’t look excited to hear what I have to say. I scan the area. There’s hardly anyone nearby. I chose this spot because it’s a quiet place in a busy city, but still, I don’t relish the idea of casually chatting about my treasonous friends and Resistance members on the streets of the capital city.
    â€œMaybe we can continue this conversation somewhere a bit more secluded?”
    â€œYou’re crazy if you think I’m going to follow you anywhere. You look like a slum rat. Why should I believe anything you say?”
    â€œBecause,” I say quietly, pushing the hood away from my face, “I’m Remy Alexander.” I remember Corine’s bloody promise to publicly execute me if I am ever caught, and I wonder why I’m not more afraid.
    He blinks. Leans in. Studies my face like he’s trying to memorize it. I did my makeup so it would only give me the barest of camouflage tonight, counting instead on the shadows and the protection of my hood to keep anyone—human or drone—from recognizing me. I was prepared to tell Shia who I am, to finally reveal myself. I thought I might have to, in order to convince him to listen to me. I’ve disappeared in this city before and I can do it again. I wait for the recoil, the hands out in self-defense, the moment I’ve dreaded and anticipated for almost two months now.
    The moment of recognition.
    â€œBy the harvest,” he says, his mouth slightly open, “you are.” But the recoil never comes. He makes no move to leave. He’s looking at me like I’m a revelation, a magic trick come to life.
    â€œAre you going to run away, Shia, and report me to the Watchmen?” It comes out sounding half like a threat, and half like a child’s dare. Bet you can’t jump off that swing! “Or are you going to believe what you already know in your gut—that there’s something rotten in Okaria, and that I can lead you to the truth?”
    He stares at me and I hold his gaze. I can see the gears turning frenetically i n Shia’s mind, the questions, the doubt, the thirst for answers. I am calm. My mind is clear, like the stream below us.
    â€œLead the way,” he says at last.

8 - REMY
    Spring 74, Sector Annum 106, 19h07
    Gregorian Calendar: June 1

    The lights around me flicker and go out. The hot smell of summer rain and sweaty bodies permeates the air, and I breathe it in, savor it. For a moment the stadium is quiet. From my vantage point behind the upper bleachers, the moonlight casts an eerie glow on the center ring. The announcer’s voice rings out more vibrantly in the dark.
    â€œCitizens of Okaria, let the games begin! The final night of the 25th Okarian Gymnasia Championship starts now as two of our favorite athletes take the wrestling floor! Throw your hands in the air for The Grizzly !”
    Thousands of voices roar together as a single spotlight illuminates a hulking man who looks like he’d been carved out of a cliffside. The giant vidscreens around the stadium light up, giving us a close-up of the contestant. His hands alone look to be the size of my head. The Grizzly clenches his fists and takes a moment to throw his head back and roar. His fans go wild, echoing his cry around the gymnasia hall.
    â€œThe Grizzly, hailing from Sakari in northwestern Okaria, tore down Oak-Man’s branches and snatched The Falcon out of the air to qualify for the first round of the championship. With nineteen points out of possible twenty-four The Grizzly has a great shot at the victor’s sunflower crest!” The Grizzly gets down on all fours and paws at the ground, playacting his invented character. “With limbs like tree trunks and fists the size of boulders, The Grizzly has outwitted and outwrestled each and every one of his opponents this Gymnasia season. Will he do the same tonight? Will he be able to defeat his