Queen. Aimee Carter
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murdered in the alleyway, and while I was screaming, he gave me something that made me black out. When I woke up, it was two weeks later, and I had been Masked—surgically transformed into an identical version of Lila Hart, whom her family had secretly assassinated days earlier.”
More murmurs ran through the crowd, and the woman I was watching held my stare. I had their attention again. Good.
“I was given a choice. Pretend to be Lila, or die. It wasn’t a real choice at all. It never is when you’re staring down the barrel of a gun and waiting for someone to pull the trigger. And I thought that was what my life was going to be—a series of dodged bullets until one day, I wasn’t lucky anymore.
“But when I agreed to impersonate Lila, it opened up an entirely new world to me. Not just the unparalleled luxury of the Hart family’s day-to-day lives, but a real opportunity to change things through a revolutionary group called the Blackcoats. As soon as my education on becoming Lila began, Celia, Lila’s mother, and Knox, Lila’s fiancé, made sure my education on the Blackcoats did, too.
“They didn’t have to tell me about the injustices our citizens face day in and day out. How Shields often kill and arrest innocent people in order to meet their quotas, or because they’re having a bad day and have the power to take it out on us. I already knew that—I’d been dodging Shields since I was a kid. But Celia and Knox did tell me how IIs are given rotting food, houses with leaking roofs, and no respect or support from anyone above them. How most extra children born to IIs and IIIs are sent to Elsewhere, to be raised inside a prison, and never see the outside world. How our entire lives are dictated by a single aptitude test that only caters to one type of intelligence, and how children who are lucky enough to be born to Vs and VIs get certain advantages. Tutors, inside information—in fact, every single one of the twelve Ministers of the Union received VIs, not on their own merits, but because of the family they were born into. They never took the test, and neither will their heirs.
“Before I became Lila, I believed the lies the government feeds us—that we’re in charge of our own lives, that if we just do well enough on the test, they’ll take care of us. They’ll tell us where we belong, and that every single one of us has a place in society. I believed them when they told us we were all important and needed. I may have rejected the life they wanted for me, but I still believed them.
“The first lesson in my education came the day I was finally declared ready to impersonate Lila. Daxton Hart brought me to a wooded area for a hunting trip. But we weren’t hunting deer or quail,” I added. “We were in Elsewhere, and we were hunting humans.”
I let this sink in for a moment, and the crowd stared at me with slack jaws and pale faces. During my few days as a prisoner, I’d quickly discovered none of the other citizens of Elsewhere knew why so many of their ranks were plucked without warning, never to be seen again. Now they knew. Now everyone knew how VIs and VIIs had hunted humans for sport, all because there was no one to stop them.
“All of the VIs and VIIs took part in these hunting trips, and as Lila, I was expected to shut up and go along with it. And I did, because while I hated watching innocent people die, I knew that blending in and doing what was expected of me then meant a chance to help others now.
“America is supposed to be a fair meritocracy. We’re all supposed to receive what we deserve based on our skills and intelligence. But unlike the rest of us, there is a small section of the population that is born into a life of luxury that they never have to work a day in their lives to earn. The Hart family included.
“But being born into a life of privilege isn’t the only way to get a VI or a VII. I received a VII after I was Masked, for instance. And I wasn’t the only one.” I gripped the edge of the podium so tightly that I felt a splinter wedge its way into my palm. “Over a year ago, another citizen was Masked as a Hart—a man named Victor Mercer. Except he wasn’t Masked as a background figure like Lila, too many steps away from power to be anything more than a pawn. Victor Mercer was Masked as the one and only Daxton Hart—Prime Minister of the United States.”
An audible gasp rose through the crowd, and they began to push forward in their eagerness to hear more, jostling for a better position. Victor Mercer had been a high-ranking official who ran Elsewhere with his brother for years, and no doubt many of the former prisoners remembered his particular brand of sadism. Several shouted at me, demanding proof, and I shook my head, my voice rising.
“I’ve felt the V on the back of his neck myself. But he’s done a masterful job of destroying nearly all of the evidence that he was Masked. Some still exists, though. And when the time is right, the Blackcoats will release it and prove that the man who calls himself Daxton Hart—the man dictating our lives, the most powerful man in the country—is an impostor.”
I had to shout the last few words into the microphone to be heard over the audience’s roars of outrage. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Knox give me an approving nod, though he still didn’t smile. Either way, it was enough. At last we’d agreed on something—that telling the truth, the full truth, was what would eventually help lead the rebellion to victory.
“This country belongs to the people, not to the ruling class,” I called above the noise. “We’re the majority—we’re the ones their policies and decisions affect, while they constantly hover above the law. They kill the lower ranks for sport. They live in luxury while IIs and IIIs starve. And we have the power to stop them. Yet not once, in the seventy years the Harts and the Ministers of the Union have been in power, have we risen together to face these injustices. But now we can. It’s our responsibility to stand together against these monsters—against the impostors that rule our government. This is our country, and we need to take it back before the man who calls himself Daxton Hart destroys it completely.”
At last a rousing cheer rose from the crowd, and I exhaled sharply. My hands shook, and my heart pounded, but I felt as if I were floating. I wasn’t done yet, though, and the next portion wouldn’t be so easy. I’d gone back and forth with Knox, arguing about it for days, but ultimately telling the truth meant telling the entire truth—and that meant calling out the real Lila Hart.
“Daxton will try to tell you that every word I say is a lie,” I said. “He’ll ask for proof. He’ll call this a trick to gain sympathies. He’ll insist I’m only acting as a puppet for the leaders of the Blackcoat Rebellion. But the real puppet here is Lila Hart. I’ve seen the speeches she’s given since the Battle of Elsewhere. I’ve heard her cries for peace. And we—the Blackcoats—will do all we can to make sure no more blood is spilled in this war. But when peace means lying down and allowing the government to execute us, for standing up for our freedom and for those who can’t stand up for themselves, I’m afraid we can’t do that. Peace without freedom is imprisonment. It’s oppression. They can try to scare us. They can try to threaten our families and our lives, but ultimately we won’t have lives if we can’t decide for ourselves how we live.
“I don’t blame Lila,” I added. “I know that, if she could, she would be here with me, giving this speech much more eloquently than I ever could. And I say to her, right now—” I looked directly into the camera. “You are not alone. Whatever Victor is holding against you, whatever he’s doing to make you obey—we know those aren’t your words, and we know they aren’t your beliefs. And we will do everything we can to help you, the way we’re doing everything we can to help the people. You are one of us, and we will not forget you.”
I paused to allow that to sink in. While the citizens of Elsewhere couldn’t have cared less about Lila, the rest of the country did, and they had to know she was a puppet. It wouldn’t completely cut off Daxton’s counterpoints, but maybe it would be enough to plant the kernel of doubt.
“This isn’t about Lila, though,” I said at last. “It isn’t about me, and it isn’t even about Victor Mercer posing as Daxton Hart. This is about you—every single person watching right now. This is about your future, your family, your health and happiness and hopes. All our lives, we’ve been living under a dictator masquerading as a friend, with no way to overthrow him and take back the freedom Americans enjoyed