Ty brought home a dog once. That’s all it takes with my mother. She reported the incident to Them. They came and took the dog away. Pets are against the rules, of course. Animals require care, and They only want you to care about who They tell you to care about. Ty cried for a few days, and then she told me she didn’t want a dog anyway. We were sitting next to the lake, Ty shredding a fern leaf and me feeding ducks—both illegal activities. I didn’t believe her. She did want a pet. The real Ty did anyway. That night, after she fell asleep, I unclipped her link and plugged it into my comm. The brainwashing voice articulated the evils of pets and, hey, did you know dogs carry diseases? My transmissions had been about helping my neighbors, serving my community and those weaker than me. That night I learned the transmissions are tailored for each person, each subject. Each slave. This dog looked exactly like the one Ty had found. Short brown fur matted with golden dirt. His pink tongue hung out of his mouth, almost as low as his floppy ears.
