“Yeah, I know,” he says, waving me back toward the light of the station room. “There’s a reason why your age matters. This might sound simplistic, but it’s hard to hide what you know once you know it. Because of what has happened to other resistance groups, the Stewards have been incredibly careful. No one under eighteen has been allowed in from the outside. We have had hundreds of our members arrested or gone missing because they unintentionally revealed too much about what they know to the wrong person. And the new recycling push that will be launched next week is going to cause us to lose members even faster now.”

“How?” I ask.

“People have been convinced they are doing good by calling the Earth Protection Group when they see a neighbor or friend with books or newspapers they don’t want to get rid of. Instead, they’re helping the government ferret out people who know too much while fulfilling their goal of eliminating all records that dispute their claims.”

I think about the man with the magenta-streaked hair who was arrested just days ago near the school.

“Look,” Atlas says. “Going back into the world after stepping onto the train . . . it’s not as easy as it sounds. You’re different in ways now you don’t even understand. My dad’s friend Quixote once told me it felt like he had to pretend he didn’t know two plus two equals four and agree with everyone when they told him the answer was really five.”

“I’m sorry that your dad is missing,” I say honestly. I can imagine how screwed up he is over it. Hell, I know how messed up I am still. “But I don’t understand what you’re doing here or what my mother was a part of. You talk about missing words and train stations and people getting arrested, but how do I know any of it is real? How do I know you’re not trying to harm the city, like I’ve been told?”

“So you want to verify what I’m saying.” Atlas flips open the lid on the box and picks up a red spiral-bound book. He fingers the edges as he studies me. “The Engineers have a long list of all the things I’m supposed to talk to you about and rules about how much to say and when. That’s supposed to take weeks, then after that you decide if you are ready to take the train to the next stop.”

“Weeks?”

“Yeah.” He gives me another bright, white grin. “I think we can both agree that I suck enough at this that no one will be surprised if I skip a few of the steps. I don’t think we have time for that, and I certainly don’t have the patience.”

“Why don’t we have time?” I ask.

“The government has been making a big push to find anyone who knows what we know. My dad and over a dozen of our people have disappeared in the last few days. The new recycling program I mentioned is going to make it worse, and the Engineers in charge are looking to shut things down before that starts. Dad was against pulling back, but now that he’s missing, I don’t know what will happen.”