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I loved that show when I was your age. Well, maybe a little younger than you. Too bad it was only on for a short time. Just a year or so.”
    He stopped talking as the lights in the room dimmed, then went back to full strength.
    “They’re getting ready to turn down the power,” said Tar. “I’d better get.”
    “Wait, lad, I haven’t paid you yet.” Keisler stood up and trotted out of the room. He returned a few seconds later with a handful of bills.
    Tar stared at them for a moment before he looked up.
    “Mr. Keisler, this is more than we talked about.”
    “I know, I know, but this DVR has more shows saved on it than I could have ever dreamed about.” Keisler folded his arms across his chest. “Plus I’ll bet you didn’t find this in our neighborhood.”
    Tar shook his head.
    “That means you took some risks to get this for me. The least I can do is pay a little more.” He placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “But I don’t want you to make that a habit. If the Black Shirts found you because you were looking for something for me…it’s not worth it. Promise me you’ll be careful.”
    “I will, Mr. Keisler.”
    The man smiled. “If you’ve got time tomorrow after supper, come up and we’ll watch some shows together. I’d tell you to bring Jahn but I know he won’t come.” He playfully pushed Tar. “Now get out of here and go back to your bed before you have to walk downstairs in the dark.”
     

Chapter 3
     
    Tar smiled as he walked down the block. It had been a good day so far. The burned-out wire in Mrs. Gillis’ stove had been easy to replace and he had finished two more small jobs around the building before he grabbed his backpack and one of the two tablet machines he had fixed yesterday and headed for the school. The screen was ready to light up as soon as he sold it to Toby. He was Tar’s best friend, one of the few he had close to his own age. Toby had been talking about wanting a tablet for at least a year. Tar would still charge him for it of course, a little bit anyway, but his profit had come from Mr. Keisler and more would come later after he delivered the second machine for Mr. Lionel’s daughter.
    A few women shook their head at Tar as he walked down the sidewalk, probably disapproving of his not being in class. But nearly every shop owner waved to him through windows or came to the door to greet him. Although he had dealt with nearly all of them at one time or another no one signaled for him to stop and talk or barter today.
    He turned the corner toward the school, a massive, low-lying structure that took up more than three blocks. It was actually four buildings linked together by long hallways crisscrossed in a pattern like a spider’s web.
    As impressive as the size of the school was there was a sadness to it, as well. Many of the hallways echoed hollowly, doors shut against dark classrooms. The school had a third as many students as it could hold and still no one could really call the people leading the classes actual teachers. All the real ones were gone, lost in The Crash.
    Tar looked with a hint of jealousy at the small children climbing on the playground equipment. Uncle Jahn had taught him to read and to write. He could add and subtract and even do some algebra, although what he would ever use that for he still didn’t know. Mr. Keisler had helped out by lending several history books that told stories about the presidents in the past and explorers searching for new worlds. Tar could remember a time when he wanted to be an astronaut like that Armstrong guy who walked on the moon.
    But most of all he loved fixing things, especially apps. He had never been able to explain to Jahn what it was like to feel the power going through his hands, to see the pathways of light and dark and make it all connect together. At that moment, when a brick whistled or beeped and came back to life, that was when he felt like more than adware, felt like he had a purpose no matter what he