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The harvest counselor who interviews her seems to assume that, in spite of aptitude scores, every Unwind must be an imbecile. The woman wears a floral print blouse with lots of leaves and pink flowers. Risa would like to attack her with a weed whacker.
"Do you have any questions or concerns, dear? If you do, there's no better time to ask."
"What happens to the bad parts?"
The question seems to throw the woman off stride. "Excuse me?"
"You know—the bad parts. What do you do with the club feet, and the deaf ears? Do you use those in transplants?"
"You don't have either of those, do your"
"No—but I do have an appendix. What happens to that?"
"Well," says the counselor with near infinite patience, "a deaf ear is better than no ear at all, and sometimes it's all people can afford. And as for your appendix, nobody really needs that anyway.”
"Then, aren't you breaking the law? Doesn't the law specify that you have to keep 100 percent of an Unwind alive?"
The smile has begun to fade from the counselor's face. "Well, actually it's 99.44 percent, which takes into account things like the appendix."
“I see.”
"Our next bit of business is your preadmission questionnaire. Due to your unorthodox arrival, you never had the opportunity to fill one out." She flips through the pages of the questionnaire. "Most of the questions don't matter at this point . . . but if you have any special skills you'd like to let us know about—you know, things that could be of use to the community during your stay here . . ."
Risa wishes she could just get up and leave. Even now, at the end of her life, she still has to face that inevitable question, What good are you?
"I have some medical experience," Risa tells her flatly. "First aid, CPR."
The woman smiles apologetically. "Well, if there's one thing we have too many of here, it's medical staff." If the woman says "well" one more time, Risa may just drop her down a nice deep one. "Anything else?"
"I helped in the infant nursery back at StaHo."
Again that slim smile. "Sorry. No babies here. Is that all?"
Risa sighs. "I also studied classical piano."
The woman's eyebrows raise about an inch. "Really? You play piano? Well, well, well!"
53 Connor
Connor wants to fight. He wants to mistreat the staff and disobey every rule, because he knows if he does, it will get this over with faster. But he won't give in to the urge for two reasons. One: It's exactly what they want him to do. And two: Risa. He knows how it will devastate her to see him led to the Chop Shop. That's what the kids call it, "the Chop Shop"— although they never say it in front of the staff.
Connor is a celebrity in his dormitory. He finds it absurd and surreal that the kids here see him as some sort of symbol, when all he did was survive.
"It can't be all true, right?" the kid who sleeps in the bed next to his asks the first night. "I mean, you didn't really take on an entire squad of Juvey-cops with their own tranq guns."
"No! It's not true," Connor tells him, but denying it just makes the kid believe it even more.
"They didn't really shut down entire freeways looking for you," another kid says.
"It was just one freeway—and they didn't shut it down. I did. Sort of."
"So, then it is true!"
It's no use—no amount of downplaying the story can convince the others that the Akron AWOL is not some larger-than-life action figure.
And then there's Roland, who as much as he despises Connor, is now riding Connor's fame wave for all it's worth. Although Roland's in another unit, wild stories are already getting back to Connor about how he and Roland stole a helicopter and liberated a hundred Unwinds being held in a Tucson hospital. Connor considers telling them that all Roland did was turn them in, but decides life is literally too short to start things up with Roland again.
There's one kid Connor speaks to who actually listens and can tell the truth from the fabrications. His name is Dalton. He's seventeen but short and stocky, with hair that has a mind of its own. Connor tells him exactly what happened on that day he went AWOL. It's a relief to have someone believe the truth. Dalton, however, has his own perspective on it.
