She sat, satisfied that the group understood they were both equally in charge. She was glad he’d started the meeting without her. Too much reliance on a single leader wasn’t a good thing in this movement; that was part of why they’d insisted on co-running this field office. The whole point was that people should be able to think and act for themselves. She sat back to listen to what Gabe had to say.
As always, he took a moment to get started, like an old car that needed to be coaxed to life. He hated his voice, she knew. Those first moments of public speaking were always agony for him, until he got over the self-consciousness and into the stuff that impassioned him. Tonight there was no shortage of topics to get worked up about.
“Okay, I’m going to start with them, then come round to us. ‘Them’ for tonight is Balkenhol Neural Labs as usual, but also Congress. The House of Representatives yesterday voted to subsidize Pilots for all ninth graders living under the poverty level, under the assumption that the parents of all the others will pay for theirs. This was the first state with subsidies, since Balkenhol is in our backyard, and that has spread to about twenty other states, but it’s bad news if this goes federal.”
One of the regulars, with a geometric haircut and full-sleeve tattoos on both arms, raised her hand. Gabe looked her way. “Daya?”
“So all students are required to get them under this law?”
“No. The government will pay for them for those who can’t afford them. They’re not mandatory, but it’s easy to see how we’d get there from here. Yes?”
“Dominic, he/him,” said the new boy, identifying himself as Sophie had said to do. “It’s not a law yet, though, right? You said ‘passed the House,’ but it still has to pass the Senate, too, right?”
“Right. That’s where the next mobilization is going to come in,” said Gabe. “Sophie, do you want to talk about that?”
She stood. “Okay, as always, we’ll do it their way and our way. Before we leave tonight, everyone willing is going to write a letter to our senators. On paper, old-fashioned style, so they can see we exist and we have good penmanship. I’ll mail them tomorrow. I’ll also encourage you to post your letter online, send it to all your friends, and tell them to reach out to their own senators. Bonus if you can tell them those two names, in case your friends aren’t as smart as you.
“You’re welcome to try to make appointments with the senators personally as well, but don’t be surprised if they won’t see you. They’re pretty locked down right now, and they consider us a fringe group. And yes, John”—she raised a hand to silence an older white man who had opened his mouth—“I know some of you are fully anti-tech and will not be sending e-mails or any of that. We respect your perspective and your beliefs.” They’d long ago learned to control the various factions within their group, including both the anti-tech and the techies who thought Pilots were a step too far.
“There should be new protest flyers to distribute shortly. Again, tell your friends, get people involved. Last, FreerMind has lawyers already working on a challenge to the law if it passes the Senate. Any questions?”
As expected, they all wanted to know when the protests would be. That was what these folks were best at: showing up. She had to force them to write letters and do the other small-seeming stuff. Those things mattered at least as much as marching to the school board or the state house and getting arrested again. Still, the trick with a group like this was to play to their strengths, to encourage them and let them feel their burgeoning strength.
The power movers at the national office didn’t come to local meetings, making Gabe and Sophie their sergeants, carrying out the orders of generals. As far as the foot soldiers were concerned, the two of them were giving the orders. This was Sophie and Gabe’s group to command as they saw fit. She loved the authority; it was still new to her, but she knew she wore it well. She wished her parents understood how she thrived when given some trust and control.
That had been the fight this afternoon. How could Julie still tell her to be home by midnight? She was nineteen. Her friends spanned decades older than her, some were older than her parents, and every one of them assumed her more capable than her parents did. She and Gabe were the only two people with keys to this building, for starters.
She knew the moms’ fears, the old bogeymen they trotted out of seizures around people who might take advantage of her. Add in that a FreerMind chapter in California had been bombed three days before and they were ready to lock her in the house and close all her connections. They said they loved her political involvement, and that she had found something she believed in and excelled at, but couldn’t she work on it from home, where she would be safe?
She knew Val understood, at least on some level, why she did this. Val had even come to one protest, years before, and maybe gotten into it, even if she wasn’t going to take action while Julie and David had Pilots.
Gabe was talking about the arrests, giving the rundown of who had been taken in and why. Most protests didn’t end in arrests, he stressed. Some people liked to go further than FreerMind encouraged. “I beg you to talk to me or Sophie before taking extreme action. One, so we don’t sound like an incompetent body that doesn’t know what our left arms are doing if the media comes calling for quotes. Two, so we have money and lawyers arranged in advance. Three, so we can talk you out of it if
