Chapter 2: Indoctrination
I made it into school a full minute before the doors were sealed and locked. If you were late, there was no sneaking into school. And you were wasting your time trying to get a drone to open the door by telling your sob story for not being on time. When I was in junior high, one of the boys tried to climb in a second-story window. He made it to class but not without a drone replaying the entire ‘break-in’ to the laughter of the class.
As I walked the halls, the school’s television monitors flashed the latest news on their screens. From meetings to dances to homework, we lived in the age of communication. It was pretty hard to claim you weren’t informed of upcoming events. The problem was, with so much information, from homework to online quizzes, school’s reach never seemed to end. The end of day bell merely transitioned your studies to new location.
As I entered the room, I met the gaze of Mr. Stewart, my history instructor. He was around my dad’s age but seemed to have more seniority than any teacher at the school. His main feature was his piercing gaze. His eyes were a deep ocean blue and you felt as if they were dissecting you as he watched. I immediately him watching me as I walked in and quickly found a position in the middle of the class behind a taller student. His gaze immediately shifted to another pupil, like a hawk watching its prey.
“Did you just feel a chill in the air?” I turned as I sat down, smiling at my best friend, Lacey. She was taller than me, with bright red hair. Some of the boys would mumble “Racey” when she got onto a topic that she had a strong opinion about. Down deep, I think she liked her nickname.
“Try getting into the classroom without one of his icy stares,” I replied.
“Sometimes I think Mr. Stewart is a drone — at least he has the personality of one,” Lacey teased. I fumbled in my backpack, trying to get out my tablet for class. Lacey spotted my purchase from Lou.
“Where did you get that?” she asked. Before I could answer, a look of realization crossed her face. “Oh, wait a minute — were you slumming it in the Marks this morning?”
“Do I have to answer that?” I replied, red-faced.
“Well, you’ll need a better lying face than that. If your dad asked the same question, you’d be toast.”
“I wish I was as talented as you,” I answered as I covered the glass with a towel.
“Why are you so crazy to find something from outside the city? I mean, when you get older, you can always get a job that takes you out of here. That is, if you can survive living with us commoners,” she teased. She waved her hand like a queen addressing her subjects. I squirmed in my chair.
“It’s not like that,” I said defensively. “I just want to see more than this city. See the mountains, the ocean, see the stars away from the city lights. Travel where there isn’t a drone five feet behind me.”
“Good luck with that. You know they’re here for our protection,” she mimicked, repeating one of the public service announcements that we heard over and over. The bell sounded, and we knew better than to continue our conversation in Mr. Stewart’s class. We had learned not to draw attention to ourselves — call it a mixture of fear and respect. Two video screens dropped down from the ceiling and Mr. Stewart stood up from his desk. He was pencil-thin and his voice was high-pitched.
“Settle down — get your tablets out. I want you to bring up your history assignments.” A collective groan went up from the class. No one thought we were going to be graded today. He seemed to sense our unease. “Relax, I’m not marking today but I will be monitoring your progress.” He walked around the room, flicking with his fingers as he passed each student. Each assignment moved from the student’s tablet into his own. He did a word count in each and then moved on. I dreaded when he passed my desk. He flicked his tablet from mine to his, waited and then did it a second time.
“Haven’t started your history project yet, Pene. Your deadline is next week.”
Lacey tried to come to my defense. “She’s best under pressure — nothing like getting it done at the last moment.”
“But that’s not going to work. I explained at the start of the term how important it was, with the length and research required, that you work on it every week. What is your excuse?” His cold eyes burrowed into my skull, making me even more uncomfortable as the rest of the class waited for my answer.
The answer was actually quite simple. School bored me. To tears. I knew it, my dad certainly knew it and probably half the class had already teased me about it. I couldn’t help myself, things just didn’t seem urgent until the last minute. And trust me, I’m great under pressure. Once I get rolling, I can accomplish a lot in a short amount of time. When others freeze, I can fly. I’m always able to think quickly to get myself out of a jam. This was one of those times.
“I’ve been waiting to interview my dad. He’s cancelled a few times because of work but he’s promised me definitely this week,” I lied, keeping my face neutral to contain my emotions. Mr. Stewart looked suspicious but then nodded.
“Then get it done, Pene. With your father a lawyer with the ministry, I’ll be expecting a first-rate project. I think I’ll let you present first in the class.” A faint smile crossed his face, like a cat that had just swallowed a bird and was going to enjoy every moment of eating it. I had the exact opposite feeling. Dad rarely talked about work (conflict of interest was his excuse) and it would be like pulling teeth to get any information out of him. I slumped in my chair as Lacey read my body language.
“Come on,” she whispered, “appeal to his ego. Tell him how interested you are in his job. If you look at him with your big brown eyes, he won’t refuse.”
“Telling him I’ll fail the course would be a better approach,” I whispered back just as Mr. Stewart turned, silencing any further conversation.
“Open your tablets to page 355, new legislation on security. I want to review the setup of the ministry.” Tablets flashed as students scrolled to the correct page.
“Is it true that until the ministry was formed, crime was at the highest level in history?” asked Cory, a scrawny guy who always asked questions that he knew the answer to.
“That’s correct. If you turn to page 358, you’ll see a photo from a typical street in the city.” We scrolled to look at the photo.
“There’s no security cameras. People could do anything and not get caught,” a girl named Alyvia commented. Mr. Stewart pulled out his digital wand and circled several buildings in the photo to illustrate her comment.
“Before the ministry was created, there were no cameras to protect society. Crimes went undetected, vandalism, theft, even murder went unpunished.”
“Is that when drones were introduced?” Cory asked again, and several groans came from the class. We all knew that he already was well aware of the answer. Mr. Stewart sat on the edge of his desk, looking pleased to explain the security of the city. Again.
“Before you were born, we lived in a lawless city. Criminals could commit crimes undetected, and those that were caught took years to punish or never served time for their crime. People felt unsafe as soon as they left their homes. In an effort to provide safety, security cameras were installed on every street corner, in every store. But we soon learned that they were not enough.”
“Why? Is that when the drones were built?” asked Lacey, showing an unexpected interest in the topic. I gave her a glare while she made a face back at me.
“Not quite. Because criminals knew where the cameras were, they could evade or wreck them to prevent being caught on recorders. Then the ministry placed secret cameras, putting them in places not obvious to the public. Unfortunately, camera locations were eventually discovered, and as people became aware of them, they were destroyed or avoided.”
“When are we going to get to the drones?” a boy asked from the back to the class. Mr. Stewart raised his head slowly and looked at us, like a politician ready to discuss his main message.
“Drones were introduced by the ministry to watch over citizens. While the cameras were tethered to specific locations, drones could come and go at any location. Their benefits were immediate and the crime rate dropped dramatically. When crimes were committed, they were immediately recorded and the criminals jailed immediately.”
“Is it true that court cases used take years to complete?” a girl behind me asked.
“I’m sure Pene’s father could answer that.” Mr. Stewart looked at me and then continued. “Yes, with the drone footage, justice is swift and final. Appeals are no longer required as the drone footage is irrefutable. We truly live in a golden age!” I thought that Mr. Stewart was going to start singing the national anthem after his impassioned speech. Silence greeted him instead of a rousing cheer. He looked around the room with his icy stare, driving his point home.
“Can anyone sum up in a few words the differences the drones have made in our lives?” Mr. Stewart looked straight at Cory to begin.
“No crime,” he stated.
“No victims,” a girl yelled from the front. Mr. Stewart scanned the room, looking for more feedback.
“No privacy,” I shot out and immediately regretted my outburst. Lacey gave me a look as if to say, ‘What is wrong with you?’
“Would you like to clarify your statement, Miss Anderson?” His eyes looked as if they would bore through the back of my head. Oh well, I started this, I may as well see it through. I choose my words carefully.
“The drones record all criminal activity but they also observe everyone’s actions, from eating to walking down the street. Sometimes even when they’re not there, I feel like something is watching me.”
“Like in the washroom,” Cory added. Mr. Stewart gave a cold stare that immediately shut him up, and he slunk down in his chair. Mr. Stewart paced around the classroom.
“A little loss of privacy is a small price to pay for safety. Knowing you can walk the streets without fear, that no criminal can go unpunished.” Mr. Stewart walked down the aisle of seats while giving his sermon, looking into the eyes of each student. I remembered Lou’s eyes as he was accused and wondered if our society was as safe as my teacher described.
“What triggered the drone act of 2025?” Lacey asked. I was more than happy for the change in focus. Fighting Mr. Stewart was a battle I didn`t want. He walked back to his desk.
“A group of anarchists took over the generating plant on the west side of the city. Their demands for a ransom were not met. They triggered an explosion that created a monumental earthquake, making buildings collapse and creating a blackout throughout the city for over three weeks. Instead of causing chaos, this incident galvanized the government to form the Ministry. The drone officers were released immediately, patrolling all streets and helping clean the rubble from the earthquake. Their friendly presence inspired thousands.” I thought about the police drones that took Lou away; they seemed neither friendly nor inspiring. Cold and heartless were better descriptors.
“Is that why they say there are underground buildings and tunnels under the city?” A girl in the front row asked. Mr. Stewart fixed her with a glance that said ‘What a stupid question’.
“Of course not. Almost all of the old buildings were torn down. The few remaining buildings underground were unsafe and remain condemned in the east side of the city. Whenever you go to the town hall by the Justice Building, you can see the monument that commemorates the drones and the years of peace they have created.”
A knock on the window diverted my attention. A bee drone was hovering outside, its eyes scanning the class and then stopping when it saw me. At least that’s what it looked like; drones aren’t made to find people, only to record what they see. I could almost see some type of intelligence in its eyes, as if was tracking me.
“Hope we aren’t interrupting your daydreams, Pene?” Mr. Stewart asked while the class laughed at my distraction. I turned to him to respond but realized any excuse was worthless. I did the only thing I could to salvage the moment.
“Sorry, Mr. Stewart.” He dismissed me with his right hand and turned to the front of class.
“Can I get everyone to turn to page 385, to the aftermath of the earthquake and the new government?” Fingers tapped on screens as we searched for the content.
I turned my head to the window but the drone had gone. Typical — when you don’t want them, you can’t get them out of your sight. And when you want them, they’re gone.
I wished I could be gone too.