the hub and the chances of survival in the wilderness. However, on the other hand, this group is not one made for survival in the bush. They are artisans or teachers, perhaps farmers, but certainly not hunters or soldiers. They would not survive another week out here, much less reach the island in the south.
Looking at them, comparing myself to them, makes me realise just how different I am. Different not only from them but also the other hubbites in Greytown. I’m different in a way that has less to do with my mark, and more to do with my upbringing. Grandad made sure that I did not settle into a contented hub life, instead teaching me skills which other hubbites never had. Even the fact that he encouraged me, behind closed doors, to question our way of life sets him apart as a parent. What was his reasoning? Was he equipping me for eventualities such as freedom from the hub? Did he always intend for me to leave?
Later when we part company with the travellers, they head south-east and we continue north. Hayes has described the quickest route to Greytown and it looks likely that they will follow his advice, even though the younger man is reluctant.
“Why were you so keen for them to join a hub?” I ask him curiously, when they have disappeared behind us and off the monitor.
He toys with the reins for a minute before answering. “It will be safer for them. They’ll be welcomed into the hub, and given what they need. They may be the first of many relocations this year.” He pauses. “They’re the kind of people that would suit life in the hubs. And they’re not safe out here.”
This makes me think of the livestock comparison, but before I can say anything he encourages his horse into a trot and I am left to follow.
Later in the afternoon we come to the northern end of the bowl, and prepare to leave the waving tussocks behind us.
Hayes passes me some heavy lenses and directs my gaze to the western slope. They bring the hillside into sharp focus, making me feel as though I could touch the trees dotting it, which are nearly a kilometre away. Through them I can see a ramshackle farmhouse, all weatherboard and loose timber. I can’t understand what’s drawn his attention. It looks just like any of the other abandoned shelters we’ve passed frequently.
“Is there something on the monitor?”
He shakes his head. “We didn’t pass within range. But look closer.”
I lift the lenses to my eyes again. Although at first glance the farmhouse looks abandoned, the trees around it have been cut back, trimmed clear of the roof. Solar panels are clearly visible.
“Someone lives up here!” We have found someone living in the bowl; there could even be a community. Out here in the fresh air. The thought gives me a thrill of excitement. This is someone living outside a hub; how I picture myself. Now that I know what to look for, I can see a track zig-zagging its way up the hillside on our left.
Hayes nods. “There’s a chance we’ve not been seen. But even if we have, our best course of action is to continue on as planned for the moment. On the other side of the hills we will be able to follow the route of a stream nearly as far as the City. It will disguise our tracks.”
I have stopped short. My first instinct was to make contact and I can’t understand why he should treat the farmhouse as something to avoid. He was very eager to meet the travellers from Tika. Then I realise that the house must be Polis. Why else would he see it as a threat?
“It’s occupied by Polisborn?”
He shakes his head. “I doubt a Polis citizen would choose to reside out here, this far away from the City. But whoever is living up there is doing so with Polis permission. And if they have permission then it means they provide an essential service.”
An essential service… it sounds unnerving. “What could they possibly provide the Polis from here?” I’m looking around. All I see are waving grasses, rocks, trees. We’re about
Looking at them, comparing myself to them, makes me realise just how different I am. Different not only from them but also the other hubbites in Greytown. I’m different in a way that has less to do with my mark, and more to do with my upbringing. Grandad made sure that I did not settle into a contented hub life, instead teaching me skills which other hubbites never had. Even the fact that he encouraged me, behind closed doors, to question our way of life sets him apart as a parent. What was his reasoning? Was he equipping me for eventualities such as freedom from the hub? Did he always intend for me to leave?
Later when we part company with the travellers, they head south-east and we continue north. Hayes has described the quickest route to Greytown and it looks likely that they will follow his advice, even though the younger man is reluctant.
“Why were you so keen for them to join a hub?” I ask him curiously, when they have disappeared behind us and off the monitor.
He toys with the reins for a minute before answering. “It will be safer for them. They’ll be welcomed into the hub, and given what they need. They may be the first of many relocations this year.” He pauses. “They’re the kind of people that would suit life in the hubs. And they’re not safe out here.”
This makes me think of the livestock comparison, but before I can say anything he encourages his horse into a trot and I am left to follow.
Later in the afternoon we come to the northern end of the bowl, and prepare to leave the waving tussocks behind us.
Hayes passes me some heavy lenses and directs my gaze to the western slope. They bring the hillside into sharp focus, making me feel as though I could touch the trees dotting it, which are nearly a kilometre away. Through them I can see a ramshackle farmhouse, all weatherboard and loose timber. I can’t understand what’s drawn his attention. It looks just like any of the other abandoned shelters we’ve passed frequently.
“Is there something on the monitor?”
He shakes his head. “We didn’t pass within range. But look closer.”
I lift the lenses to my eyes again. Although at first glance the farmhouse looks abandoned, the trees around it have been cut back, trimmed clear of the roof. Solar panels are clearly visible.
“Someone lives up here!” We have found someone living in the bowl; there could even be a community. Out here in the fresh air. The thought gives me a thrill of excitement. This is someone living outside a hub; how I picture myself. Now that I know what to look for, I can see a track zig-zagging its way up the hillside on our left.
Hayes nods. “There’s a chance we’ve not been seen. But even if we have, our best course of action is to continue on as planned for the moment. On the other side of the hills we will be able to follow the route of a stream nearly as far as the City. It will disguise our tracks.”
I have stopped short. My first instinct was to make contact and I can’t understand why he should treat the farmhouse as something to avoid. He was very eager to meet the travellers from Tika. Then I realise that the house must be Polis. Why else would he see it as a threat?
“It’s occupied by Polisborn?”
He shakes his head. “I doubt a Polis citizen would choose to reside out here, this far away from the City. But whoever is living up there is doing so with Polis permission. And if they have permission then it means they provide an essential service.”
An essential service… it sounds unnerving. “What could they possibly provide the Polis from here?” I’m looking around. All I see are waving grasses, rocks, trees. We’re about
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