I can’t begin to imagine thirty years underground.

“If he’s helping fund the Stewards, couldn’t he talk the Engineers out of locking things down?” I ask. “At least until you know what happened to your father?”

Atlas shakes his head. “Dewey has never wanted to lead. My dad tried to change his mind, but Dewey isn’t interested in working with others. So he was put in charge of cataloging and circulation. He’s much better with books than people.”

That wouldn’t be hard. “So Dewey’s job is to keep track of the books?”

“That’s what the Engineers believe. Dewey would tell you that his job is to find the answer.”

“The answer to what?” I ask.

“How to make people care more about the truth than themselves.”

I’m trying to decide what to say to that when Atlas pulls me into the entryway of a brick building. He whispers for me to stay completely still and shifts his position so I am hidden from view.

Footsteps slap against the pavement in the quiet of the night. Someone is there. Is it one of the Stewards looking for me? One of the Marshals Atlas claims is searching for them? I don’t know what the danger is, but standing this close to Atlas, I can feel the rapid pounding of his heart as he holds his breath.

The footsteps fade, then disappear, and after what feels like forever, Atlas steps back.

“What was that?” I ask as he leads me down the sidewalk, glancing back every few steps.

“I’m not sure. Maybe nothing, but I promised I’d get you home. I don’t want to take any chances.”

Atlas leads me to a bright red Mustang that Isaac would kill to own. He drops my hand and reaches under the car. When he stands upright he is holding a small silver box. He flips the lid and pulls out a key fob, and the rear lights flash red as the car unlocks. “Get in.”

The car engine roars to life as I buckle into the black leather passenger seat. “I would think if you were trying to avoid notice you’d want a car that isn’t quite so flashy.”

“We have those, too.” He grins as he steers the car onto the street. “But any car driving around at this time of morning will attract notice. If you were a Marshal and spotted this car, would you think we’re trying to sneak through the city without gaining unwanted attention? Or would you assume I was a guy taking his girl home after a successful date?”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“That’s because you’ve never had to wonder if the police officer standing at the corner is looking for you.”

He’s right. I haven’t. “Are the police really looking that hard for the Stewards?”

“Us and anyone ready to resist the truth they want people to believe. The original recycling program was designed to help them eliminate words and ideas so people would accept the reality they have crafted. The new version that encourages good citizenship by asking neighbors to report people who need additional information and encouragement to recycle is designed to eliminate anyone who still knows what they are doing. Anyone searching for words that aren’t part of the world that they want us to accept suddenly has Marshals at their door. Hundreds that we know of have been taken off the streets in the last months. Thousands over decades.”