"You and Wisty need to turn yourselves in, to save your parents-and the rest of us. It's the only way. I think Wisty understands that… right, Wisty?"
Celia turns her head, and there-behind her, up on the screen-is my sister. How can that be?
"Wisty!" I yell. "How -?"
"It's okay, Whit," Wisty says. "Everything is okay now. I understand our role."
Celia looks back at me, and her long hair starts reaching out of the screen, flowing toward me. I feel pulled in by it. I have no resistance to her. I feel as if I'm airborne, flying toward the screen to be swallowed by her eyes, her lips, her soft, soothing voice.
"I have to go now, Whit. Turn yourselves in. Save us. You can do this, Whit."
Then the screen fuzzes out, and I'm falling into blackness that seems to have no end.
Chapter 12
Wisty
Now that was maybe the strangest thing that has happened to us so far. Another mystery inside a mystery inside a mystery.
I remember almost nothing. At least, nothing after I told Whit to look up at the screen-and Celia. Now I'm flat on my face in the middle of the town plaza, and my head is pounding.
I turn to find Whit in a similar state, only he's holding his head with both hands and sobbing. There's not much that's worse than seeing your older brother cry. Except maybe seeing your parents that way.
I scramble over to him and hold him as he tells me what happened. It's a pretty incoherent jumble, but one thing is clear: Celia said we had to turn ourselves in. Nice one, Celes. I'll chew on that. First let's go over your connection to the New Order one more time. How did you get up on the propaganda board?
"We're not turning ourselves in," I tell him dismissively. "It's a video trick. The N.O. is getting desperate."
"It's BS!" he says indignantly, suddenly straightening. "I know it now. That wasn't Celia talking. It couldn't have been. We're going to destroy this regime, and we can't do it if we're prisoners. Or dead."