"What more can you want?"

Brian let out the words like a whistful sigh. He turned away from Noah and slouched into his easy chair. At the snap of his finger, a machine scurried like a bug over to his side and lifted out a glass of iced tea. He took it in his hand.

"You don't understand, Noah," he said. He motioned with his hand to the gun and Noah's hand, then toward the memory disposal chute. "First, that. You don't need that here. Throw it away. If the cameras spot it, they'll eliminate you."

Noah shook his held. He held the pistol tight. "It's mine," he said.

Brian answered him with a loud sigh.

"This is you," he said. "This is all you. It's how you always are. Everything needs to be a fight. Always this way with you. But there is nothing to fight for anymore, Noah."

He took a sip of the iced tea and placed it on the machine at his side. It scurried out of sight.

"Let me tell you something. Let me tell you what I did today. I woke up with the sun. There was beautiful music. Do you know that? The sun came in through the window and lit up my room, and there was beautiful music."

"The Chairman is the Sun of our Glowing Hearts," Noah said, spitting out the name of the song like it was bitter in his mouth.

Brian shrugged his shoulders. "Yes," he said. "Yes, I suppose it was. And what of it? It is a beautiful song. It was with strings, you know. No words. It was a string quartet. Very beautiful. I was stirred.

"And then, my good friend, I went out to the garden. And I wrote. I wrote a charming little story about a chipmunk. I'll read it to you, if you like. I spent the morning watching a chipmunk, and I wrote a beautiful little story about him."

"You wrote what they let your write," Noah said.

Brian got to his feet. "Sure. I suppose so." He went over to his cabinet and searched inside. "Why not? They certainly wouldn't be happy if I wrote 'Down with the party' or anything -- but why would I? Things are wonderful here, Noah."

He fished a piece of lined paper out of the cabinet and held it up proudly. Charlie Chipmunk was written across the cover. With a proud smile and a skip in his step, he brought it to Noah.

Noah took it, but he did not read it. He put it down at his side without a single glance. There was look of incredible disappointment in his eyes.

"There's more to life than this," he said. "Don't you see that? Don't you remember? We used to work. Do you remember it? Do you remember how good it was to work?"

"What work?" Brian said. "Machines farm the fields. Machines build the houses. Machines transport the food. What did we do? Be honest with yourself, Noah. Those jobs, before -- they just kept us busy. We were never needed. And now -- now we can accept that. Now we can fill our days however we like. Why shouldn't we?"

"Without any freedom," Noah said. "Without any choice. The party makes every decision for you. We had elections once, Brian. People who represented us. And I'll bring them back."

"For what? For who? If the people could vote, Noah, they would vote not to. What good was all that complaining, all that worrying, all that time spent listening to how terrible everyone in power was? The party is good to us. What fight them, Noah? What's the point?"

Noah's body instinctively tightened, and he realized dimly that he was crushing Charlie Chipmunk in his hand. He let it drop to the ground.

"They killed Henry. God, Brian. Don't you remember?" Noah wouldn't even look him in the eye now. "They butchered him, your 'Party' did it. How have you forgotten?"

"Yes," Brian said. He gave a slow nod. "They did. But -- Noah. You won't want to hear this, Noah, but you know it is true. Henry was not a good man. He killed thirteen people in the name of freedom. What would you do? Thirteen people."

Noah shook his head. He started out into the forest again without a word. There was a profound emptiness in his chest; an intense loneliness as he walked away from the one person he'd thought would understand.

"Noah," Brian called out. "You could still join us. Get rid of that damned weapon. Come in for dinner. It's nice here. What's the use in being so damned angry all the time?"

Noah looked back for a moment, at the beautiful garden that decorated Brian's home. For a second he wanted to. For a second he thought of turning back, of coming with Brian and trying to accept every part of it, but something kept him from doing it.

He went out into the woods. The drones would track him within ten minutes, and he wouldn't be able to outrun them to the mountain. He would head for the river; if he didn't make it, he would see Henry soon.