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On and on. She’s trying to desensitize my brain, I realize, to make me lower my guard so she’ll be able to see a physical reaction when she does ask something relevant. Twice more I see Metias. Each time it happens, I take a deep breath and force myself to hold it in for several seconds. They grill me about how I escaped from the Patriots, what the bombing mission was for. I repeat what I’d told Anden at our dinner. So far, so good. The detector says I’ve told the truth.
“Is Day alive?”
And then Day materializes in front of me. He’s standing only a few feet away, with blue eyes so reflective that I can see myself in them. An easy grin lights up his face when he sees me. Suddenly I ache for him so much that I feel like I’m falling. He’s not real. This is all a simulation. I let my breathing steady. “Yes.”
“Why did you help Day escape, when you knew that he’s wanted for so many crimes against the Republic? Might you have feelings for him?”
A dangerous question. I harden my heart against it. “No. I simply didn’t want him to die at my hands for the one crime he didn’t commit.”
The doctor pauses in her note-taking to raise an eyebrow at me. “You risked an awful lot for someone you hardly know.”
I narrow my eyes. “That doesn’t say much about your character. Perhaps you should wait until someone’s about to be executed for a mistake you made.”
She doesn’t respond to the acid in my words. The illusion of Day vanishes. I get a few more irrelevant control questions, then: “Are you and Day affiliated with the Patriots?”
Day appears again. This time he leans in close enough for his hair to brush, light as silk, against my cheeks. He pulls me toward him for a long kiss. The scene vanishes, replaced abruptly by a stormy night and Day struggling through the rain, blood dripping from his leg and leaving a trail behind him. He collapses onto his knees in front of Razor before the whole scene disappears again. I fight to keep my voice steady. “I was.”
“Is there going to be an assassination attempt on our glorious Elector?”
No need for me to lie on this one. I let my gaze wander to Anden, who nods at me in what I assume is encouragement. “Yes.”
“And are the Patriots aware that you know about their assassination plans?”
“No, they are not.”
Dr. Sadhwani looks over at her colleagues, and after several seconds she nods and turns back to me. The detector says I’ve told the truth. “Are there soldiers close to the Elector who may support this assassination attempt?”
“Yes.”
Several more seconds of silence while she checks with her colleagues on my answer. Again, she nods. This time she turns around to face Anden and his Senators. “She’s telling the truth.”
Anden nods back. “Good,” he says, his voice muffled through the glass. “Continue, please.” The Senators keep their arms crossed and their lips tight.
Dr. Sadhwani’s questions are ceaseless, drowning me in their never-ending torrent. When will the assassination attempt take place? On the Elector’s planned route to the warfront city of Lamar, Colorado. Do you know where the Elector will be safe? Yes. Where should he go instead? A different border city. Is Day going to be a part of this assassination attempt? Yes. Why is he involved? He’s indebted to the Patriots for fixing his injured leg.
“Lamar,” Dr. Sadhwani murmurs as she types more notes into her black device. “I guess the Elector will be switching his route.”
Another piece of the plan falls into place.
The questions finally come to an end. Dr. Sadhwani turns away from me to talk with the others, while I let a breath out and sag against the detector machine. I’ve been in here for exactly two hours and five minutes. My eyes meet Anden’s. He’s still standing near the glass doors, surrounded on both sides by soldiers, his arms crossed tightly over his chest.
“Wait,” he says. The examiners pause in their deliberations to look over at their Elector. “I have a last question for our guest.”
Dr. Sadhwani blinks and waves at me. “Of course, Elector. Please.”
Anden walks closer to the glass separating us. “Why are you helping me?”
I push back my shoulders and meet his eyes. “Because I want to be pardoned.”
“Are you loyal to the Republic?”
A final collage of memories comes into focus. I see myself holding my brother’s hand on the streets of our Ruby sector, our arms raised in salute to the JumboTrons as we recite the pledge. There’s Metias’s face, his smile and also his strained look of worry on the last night I saw him. I see the Republic flags at my brother’s funeral. Metias’s secret online entries scroll past my eyes—his words of warning, his anger at the Republic. I see Thomas pointing his gun at Day’s mother; I see her head snap backward at the bullet’s impact. She crumples. It’s my fault. I see Thomas clutching his head in the interrogation room, tortured, blindingly obedient, forever captive to what he did.
I’m not loyal anymore. Am I still loyal? I am right here in the Republic’s capital, helping the Patriots assassinate the new Elector. A man I once pledged my allegiance to. I am going to kill him, and then I’m going to run away. I know that the lie detector is going to reveal my betrayal—I’m distracted, consumed with the conflict of needing to make things right with Day, but hating to leave the Republic at the mercy of the Patriots.
A shudder runs through me. They’re just images. Just memories. I remain silent until my heartbeat steadies. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and then open them again. “Yes,” I say. “I am loyal to the Republic.”
