Powers Numerous and Indefinite

by Shana Ross

The powers reserved to the several States will extend to all the objects, which, in the ordinary course of affairs, concern the lives, liberties and properties of the people. . .- James Madison, Federalist no. 45, 1788.

Kadynne lay in bed, flat on her back in the top bunk, staring at a ceiling close enough to touch as the alarm across the room continued to blare.  She reached out and let one finger trace the edge of the only personal decoration she had contributed to the dorm: a drawing from her high school bestie of a little yellow rose, so much less painful than a Texas flag, and the prayer he wrote for her: get out. And stay out, she thought.

            “Bev! Beverly!”  Kadynne leaned over her mattress and threw a small pillow at her roommate below.  “Your alarm!”

            Bev groaned something she probably thought was a coherent sentence and ducked under her comforter.  Kadynne hauled herself to the foot of the bed, hopped down, grabbed her shower basket, and padded off to the bathroom down the hall.  She had been awake for hours, pretending she might fall back asleep, telling herself it would be very sensible to get extra rest.

            By the time she got back, Bev was standing.  She held out a mug.  Actual coffee.  They had a small percolator for the room, old school.  There were some huge perks to having a rich roommate.  A legacy roommate.  A roommate whose future was golden and boring.  Kadynne took the mug and tried to focus on being grateful.

            “You meet with the Registrar today, right?”  Bev picked up a mug of her own and sipped, peering over the rim.

            “Yep,” said Kadynne, and the two friends just stared at each other, not knowing what to say.

#

            The Registrar’s offices were in a small Queen Anne Victorian.  The shingles and turrets felt fancy and creative, two things that flew in the face of the bureaucracy of the Registrar.  But Kadynne wasn’t in the mood to be amused or text Bev.  She walked up the steps and into the building, where the dull fluorescent lighting felt exactly right for a registrar.  Her heart was pounding so hard she looked down, to see if her chest was shaking.

            “Kadynne Avery? You’re right on time.”

            At least there was no waiting.

            “Kadynne. Thanks for coming in.”  The Registrar working her case was surprisingly young, a fact that wasn’t hidden by her hairstyle, choppy and short and feathered at the top.  It was the hair of a middle-aged suburbanite, not a twenty-something girl with freckles and...yes, a small tattoo of a flower and a star tucked up just behind her ear.  Kadynne dared to hope, and she grinned before she realized what her mouth was doing, but the Registrar didn’t smile back.

            “You’re graduating this year. With honors. Summa, most likely.” The Registrar shuffled some papers.  “But still. That’s a major accomplishment. Congratulations.”

            “Thanks,” said Kadynne, and she waited.

            “I want you to know that I have letters here from your dean and several of your professors, and it is clear that you have been a vital member of our community. Everyone loves you. You have so very much to be proud of.”
            “Please just tell me,” said Kadynne, her voice coming out thin and small. 

            “We were unable to successfully appeal your extradition.” The Registrar’s eyes looked wet.  “You have to go home after graduation.”

            They sat, the air in the room so heavy it dampened even the traffic noises that had been drifting in.  Kadynne broke the spell with a sob.  The Registrar picked up a box of tissues and held them out.

            “Isn’t there anything? There has to be something.”

            The Registrar took a tissue herself and dabbed under her eye.  “Connecticut is a centrist state.  It is the position of the state where our university resides and is incorporated that we still belong to a union of states, now confederated.  Texas can demand its citizens be returned to its borders following degree completion, but as self-governing members of a single nation it is not within Connecticut’s power to offer refugee status.”

            “Congratulations.  You memorized the university handbook,” Kadynne said, spitting.  “You sound like a fucking politician.”

The Registrar flinched and her eyes darted to the door. 

“At least say it like it is. When I started here, I was just another American student, but while I was focused on midterms and term papers, some geriatric gerrymandered bastards dug in on states’ rights and now all that matters is the state you come from, even if everyone still says there’s an America. Texas gets to decide what to do with my life, and, newsflash, it won’t include any basic human rights. But you don’t care.”

            “Lower your voice,” hissed the Registrar. “It’s worse than you think.”

            Kadynne sat back in her seat with surprise.

            “You don’t even know. Extradition now includes a two-week re-integration camp. Most of our curriculum is banned in Texas and you will have to go through a re-education process. Some dude is going to scour every inch of your body, inside and out, twice, looking for any hint that you are manipulating your fertility, checking your virginity, hoping to find any evidence of gender nonconformity that they can torture out of you. I promise you, you aren’t worried about the top ten worst things.” The Registrar was flushed, her eyes flashing. “So. You want to yell at me some more?”

            Kadynne burst into tears. Real tears. All the tears that she had been holding back. The Registrar held out the tissues again. She went over to shut her door.

            “There’s an underground.”

            With two moist tissues clenched in each fist, Kadynne leaned in and listened.

#

            “This is silly,” Bev said, jiggling the leg crossed primly over the other as she sat on the couch in their common room. “Just get a job for a couple of years, and in an election cycle or two, it’ll swing back and all work out. You’ll be fine. You can join me in med school before you know it.”

            “I can’t just get a job and live with my parents and pretend everything is okay,” Kadynne said. “I worked so hard. Just to survive and get to college. You like your parents. They get you. Mine are...” Kadynne felt her stomach flip. “...they don’t get me. At all.”

            Bev rolled her eyes.

            “Stop that. I’m serious. They believe in going to church, which isn’t like you wandering over to chapel when you feel like it. It’s like Evangelical MSG, every week. Ecstatic worshippers falling off the upper balconies every couple of weeks. My mom’s idea of public service is the political organizing she did to get Texas to reverse all restrictions on commercial fluorocarbons.  She’s still a local celebrity. The little lady who brought hairspray back. They yelled at me for reading too much. They went to the principal to protest when I took valedictorian and insisted they award it to the boy who was just behind me. And my dad will own me until I’m married.  So, no job without his signature, no credit card of my own, no med school applications without his approval...”

            “It’s temporary.” Bev uncrossed her legs and leaned over, grabbing Kadynne’s hands.  “Politics is always a pendulum. Things will go back to normal. You can’t throw your life away before that happens.”

            Kadynne let Bev squeeze her hands, but she didn’t let go of the small card, printed with a single phone number. If she called, she would be kidnapped within a week. Which wasn’t the right word. If she called, that would be consent. But the rest of it would be indistinguishable.  Someone would extract her, and she wouldn’t know when or how it would happen until she was blindfolded and enroute to somewhere with no extradition. She’d disappear. She’d be dead, legally. There would be no coming back from that. She shifted her fingers to hold the card closer to the edges, to make sure the sweat from her hands didn’t smudge anything.

            “How about marriage?” said Bev, swinging down to one knee. She smiled up, still holding Kadynne’s hands. “I’ll marry you, but we’ll definitely need a prenup.”

            “Not funny.” Kadynne stood up and grabbed her coat. “I can’t marry in any state unless the marriage would be reciprocal in Texas. Which means no evil, dirty lesbians.”

            Bev’s eyes flashed.  “That was uncalled for.”

            “Pretty sure that’s part of the re-education curriculum.” Kadynne paused at the door to the dorm she and Bev had fought so hard to get, a coveted three room double, and they still chose to bunk together. It was practical, Bev had said, to have a study room with the desks and a sleeping room with two beds, even if they had to be stacked. But really, they didn’t want to stop whispering to each other long into the night. Kadynne didn’t know how to soften the wall that was building in her heart, or to repair the wound she had just inflicted, so she just left, listening to the door close itself with a click.

#

            Two weeks after spring break and Kadynne still hadn’t called the number. Her backpack was heavy, and she took a minute to sit on a bench outside the library before going in, mostly to let her shoulder rest. She hadn’t made the call, but it seemed best to have all the essentials on her person at all times.

            She barely looked up when Bev plopped down next to her.

            “I talked to my dad. No go. Massachusetts only hires from the Northeastern Alliance. They’d love to have you, but the whole firm only gets fourteen special visas a year, so they use them for VIPs. Stop ripping up the sod. Geez.”

            Kadynne looked. Her toes had decimated the grass in front of her half of the bench and were still digging. She looked around her picture-perfect campus, the picture-perfect day with sunshine and cotton clouds and brilliant blue sky. There were birds singing. Lunch smelled great, wafting out of the dining hall.

            “I can’t. I can’t do this.”

            Bev grabbed her by the shoulders. “If you disappear, I’ll never see you again. You can’t do that to me.”

            Kadynne shook free. “I meant I can’t deal with this right now. I have a paper due in two days and I need to get to the library. But thanks for that. Thanks for telling me whose side you’re really on. Gotta look out for number one, right, Bev?”

            “That’s not what I meant...I just...God, Kadynne. You can be such a bitch.” 

            Bev didn’t follow as Kadynne walked off briskly, as fast as she could without drawing attention, her back bent under a single strap of her backpack. She found a carrel in the library and nested. After an hour of pretending to research, or trying to, the distinction disintegrating in her mind, Kadynne decided. On the bright side, the decision made her so nauseous that she didn’t mind skipping lunch, and the extra time helped her get back on track.

#

            Dinner was meatless, which happened more than just Mondays this year. Kadynne ignored the horrified look on the server’s face when she asked for curry and the pasta. “In separate bowls, please,” she clarified, and the wrinkled lip went back to a neutral position. She took her tray and slid into a seat next to Bev and her current crush and the two boys who lived in the room downstairs. Dan was grumbling about wanting a damn burger that wasn’t made from beets.

            “There’s a sandwich bar.  Go eat some flesh,” Kadynne said, trying to remember the rules of sparring with her frenemy. Dan wanted to make money, and lots of it. His plans after graduation included a path to world domination through venture capitalism, which didn’t particularly bother her, but he also loved to make nasty comments about the people who wanted to eat into those personal profits with things like environmental regulations and labor laws.

            Everyone stared at her.

“Yeah, there’s always ham and cheese,” said Dan. “I shouldn’t complain.”

            Kadynne froze, a forkful of penne halfway to her mouth. She put it down. She had been worried about being the right amount of snarky, to make herself seem normal, but this was...not.  “Okay.  What’s up?”

            Bitsy spoke first. “Bev told us.”

            Kadynne stared. “Bev. Told. You. What?” It came out as more of a statement than a question. 

            “That you have to go home after graduation. Don’t be mad at her. I was talking about planning a surprise week for everyone at my grandpop’s house on the Cape, and of course I was going to include you and she told me not to because...it’s a lot for us to take in, too.”

            Dan rolled his eyes. “It’s Texas, not Mordor. Kady here will be fine. She just can’t make it to your little vacay.”

            Kadynne swallowed and tried to think of something to say, but in the pause, Bitsy started talking about the ferry schedule, then the conversation pivoted to Kierkegaard, and there was no need for her to do much but eat and smile. Which was fine. She liked being invisible. She glanced over at Bev, who blushed and looked away, pretending to be absorbed in the conversational melee.

            When they finally got up to take their trays to the rack at the back of the cafeteria, to walk back out to their studious lives with no dishes to wash, Kadynne held back to talk to Bev. 

            “It wasn’t your place to tell them,” she hissed.
            Bev looked like she was going to cry. “I didn’t mean to. It just slipped out. Please don’t be mad at me.”

            “It’s fine. They were going to find out eventually. Are you coming back to the room now? I need to talk to you.”

            “You don’t even care, do you? How all of this isn’t just a you thing. You are my best friend. I need you. I need you to come to my wedding and be my maid of honor and be a godmother to my firstborn, and...”

Kadynne stared at her. “Can we do this in our room please?”

Bev hesitated, her tray almost tipping, a butterknife clattering to the floor. “I have a thing.  I’ve got to go.  I’ll see you later.” She practically fled.

            Kadynne shifted her grip so she could bend down for the escaped cutlery, but Dan beat her to it.

            “Kady,” he said, softly, voice thick. “I can hire you. I mean, as an assistant. You’d have to file shit for me and screen my calls. But it would be New Jersey. And I respect you. As a peer. Even if you were working for me.”

            “That’s really sweet, Dan.” She turned to go.

            “Wait!” He grabbed her arm. “You can’t go back to Texas. For real. It’s a fucking third-world shithole.”

            “Dan Lee,” Kadynne said. “What would your buddies in the Party of the Right say if they knew what you really think about Texas? That’s my home you’re talking about. That’s the home of our current vice president, hallowed be his name.”  He flinched as she pulled away. “You are still chair of the political union, aren’t you?”
            “That’s for fun,” he said. “I’m making a real offer. Please.”
            “Fun? This has never been a game, Dan.”

            He looked at her, face reddening. “But you’re my friend. Let me help you, Kady.”

            “Don’t worry,” she said. “The electrical grid is so busted you’ll be able to make a gajillion dollars preying on people who need air conditioning and heat and refrigerators. Not to mention the med-evac market for VIP care. It’s not a game, it’s a market opportunity.” Kadynne couldn’t tell if Dan was embarrassed or getting ready to yell, so she turned on her heel and left.

            She walked out of the dining hall and through the twilight back to her dorm. The entryway was ajar. That alone wasn’t unusual. People propped the electronically-locking doors all the time so they didn’t have to come running down to let guests in. But Kadynne was so out of sorts that her skin prickled as she pulled the handle. Her room was locked, as it should be, and she let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. She flicked her ID across a keypad and walked in.

            The lights didn’t turn on.

            There was rustling. Strong hands grabbed her and forced her to her knees. She started to scream, but a fist in her gut knocked the wind out of her and she fought for air instead of fighting her attackers.

            A penlight flashed in her face.

            “It’s her,” said a voice. “Proceed.”

            Wrists bound behind her and unable to stand on her own, she was lifted, a large, uniformed man on each side, and carried out of her room, down the stairs, and into the courtyard.  Students, busy with their own lives, stopped in their tracks and gathered into clumps to stare at what was happening.

            “Call the dean,” Kadynne said, hoarse and without the breath to speak louder than a whisper. She couldn’t see the student they had brushed by at the door, but she begged them. “Help me.” 

            “Kadynne.” The voice was Beverly. “Kadynne!”

            Kadynne twisted, desperate for her best friend’s help. “I didn’t call the number. I swear. It’s not who I am. I follow rules. I couldn’t go through with it.”

            Suddenly, Dan was there, stepping in front of Kadynne’s captors. “Where are you taking her?”

            One of the men pulled a badge from his flak vest and flipped it open. “Texas Guard, Repatriation Force. We got a report of a potential runner. We’re here for loss protection.” They didn’t slow as they dragged Kadynne to a transport van.

            “Bev?” she cried as her voice returned. “Beverly? Beverly!”

There was no answer. She could hear Dan in the background, arguing with someone, but couldn’t make out his words as she was shoved into the back and tethered. The door slammed shut, and after a minute, the three men abducting her piled into the front, grunting, and the van pulled out into traffic. Kadynne blacked out.

#

            Kadynne stirred as the van came to a stop. The windows weren’t blacked out, just set too high for her to see out of comfortably. She strained against her pinned wrists to see where they were. The door opened.

            “Let’s get you into a more comfortable position,” said the man who opened the door.  He wore a balaclava and mirrored Raybans. His hands managed to brush her chest several times as he cut through the zip ties on her wrists and snapped her into a proper set of handcuffs.

            They were at a gas station. With the door open, she could see the driver heading into the store. The third man stood ready at the pump, waiting for payment to be approved.

            “Get corn nuts,” shouted the man adjusting her shackles.

            Kadynne suddenly sat up. There, walking into the gas station’s convenience store, was the Registrar. Her Registrar. Helmeted hair and sweater set. Letting Captain Texas hold the door for her, not even bothering to look at him as she waltzed in, as if she were there to pay for her pump or grab a soda for a long drive. Kadynne swiveled to look at the captor whose hands lingered on her, searching for a clue, any clue. He squeezed her thigh, tested the cuffs one more time to be sure everything was secure, and closed the door. Everyone piled back into the van, and they took off. Kadynne could smell the corn nuts and hear the crunch as they laughed and snacked in the front seat.

            A million thoughts flowed through her head, acidic and burning as they swirled. She contemplated throwing up, but that seemed like a very bad idea. Was she being repatriated? She had just resigned herself to doing things by the book, to going home after graduation. She had ripped the card into four pieces and thrown them away before finishing her history paper. Bev was right. She would survive a couple years, then escape to med school. She wasn’t strong enough to start over, to be on the run for real, to be a wanted criminal who couldn’t apply for a vacation visa to summer with Bitsy or visit Bev for Christmas. Or show up to fancy alumni events. It was one of the biggest perks of going to a private school. All the networking. The promise of controlling your own future. Down the line, if not today. A future that came with luxury. She didn’t hate Dan because she understood that, at least.

Unless. Unless this was the underground. Why else would the Registrar be there? Coincidences don’t happen in the real world. Not like this. But. None of this made sense. And so many witnesses. Surely the dean would send someone to rescue her. She had finals. She had clearly been taken against her will. She needed to graduate. 

            The sky was easier to see out the windows than any landmarks or road signs they might be speeding by. It was so dark. No moon that she could see. She wanted to rap on the mesh separating her from the front seats. She wanted to beg for information, so she could prepare herself for whatever future she was being driven into. She was afraid of incriminating herself in some way, and so she said nothing. She just stared into the black between the orange lights looming over the highway and waited for whatever came next.