Clara spooned another mouthful of oatmeal into her mouth, her eyes trained on the screen above the refrigerator.

"Vanessa Hinge has posted some questionable pics on Friendspace lately, stirring up quite a bit of..."

Turning to the second screen beside her, she accessed her own Friendspace using her fingerprint and looked at a few pictures taken recently by some of her friends. 

Emily had gotten new makeup. Jason had posted a picture of himself with a pair of weights. Hazel showed off a steaming mug of coffee on her account, and Britney seemed to be having a lot of fun in the childish pictures that kept reappearing the more Clara scrolled down through her feed.

She stopped on one screenshot of an ocean view, which had probably been taken before the world was swept off its feet by OnLife. It contrasted all of the other photos people posted of themselves and domestic things inside their day to day lives. A boy Clara knew, Sean, had captioned it, 'Can you believe the world looks like this somewhere? #breathtaking'. The sky was a brilliant blue, halted only by the solid orange ring around the bright sun. The clouds were pink and resembled giant puffs of cotton candy. And the ocean just went on and on and on, its lapis lazuli waves perfectly reflecting each dazzling color in the sky. 

Clara almost scoffed. This photo had obviously been edited. If the world outside really looked like that, people would be frolicking around on that beach, instead of being cooped up in their houses all day. At the very least, they would be posting more things like this instead. And how many other photos like that had she seen? Almost none. That just proved how unattractive the world must really be on the other side of her front door.

She remembered the few times she'd been outside. Having no real purpose to ever do so, the reason had simply been curiosity. It had been a great disappointment, really. No cotton candy or lapis lazuli in the real world. She ate another scoop of oatmeal.

A small chime was heard, and a bell appeared in the corner of the scene that Clara somehow still hadn't pried her eyes off of. She pulled up the message, and saw the name: Alice Little.

"Hey, sis! I'm already in class, but I can hear the show you're watching. Hurry up! >:l" 

Clara stole a look at the clock, which read eight thirty-four. Crap, school starts at eight thirty! She snatched the entire bowl into her arms and scampered to the school room, her bare feet padding on the hard wooden floor. After arriving at her destination, she set her oatmeal on the single desk in the center, approached the wall to her left, and typed in the needed information: First, Alex Whitman High School, then selected the tenth grade, and finally tapped Ms. Leyman's Language Arts. 

A few seconds later the teacher's face buzzed to life on a larger screen directly in front of Clara. Her eyes jumped to the side, implying that she had noticed Clara's face suddenly jump into its position.

"Glad you finally decided to show up," she berated. Clara felt her face turn pink; four minutes isn't that long, is it? A few snickers were heard circling the room. "Now we have at least one absentee here." Clara swivelled her eyes around the room to look for a black screen, wondering who else wouldn't care to show up as well. At last her eyes snagged on the screen she knew too well: the spot that usually held Megan's smiling face.

Clara almost laughed. Of course it would be her. It definitely wouldn't be the first time Megan was late. She leaned backwards, still scooping oatmeal into her mouth, as Ms. Leyman droned on and on about how to fit together a proper essay, interrupted only by intermittent questions from the students. Clara frequently glanced back at Megan's screen as she leaned over the desk, typing notes on Leyman's method. But she never showed up. 

It was completely normal for the occasional teenager to be late for class, but Clara had never seen anyone completely miss one before. Nobody had ever had a reason. Being completely online, if someone was sick, there was no reason not to come, because they couldn't spread the illness. There was no point in deliberately skipping school, as all school-aged children's accounts shut down during the mandatory school hours, deeming it impossible to do anything at all. If there was a personal emergency, someone would have phoned the school. Clara couldn't really think of any other reason Megan would be missing.

So where was she?

Two more class periods passed. Still, no Megan.

"Call Megan," she ordered the computer on lunch break. 

                                                                 CALLING MEGAN...

Clara waited about half a minute.

                                                            MEGAN NOT AVAILABLE

She tried this over and over again, with fruitless results.

Clara sighed and leaned forward, resting her head on the edge of the table. She couldn't remember the last time Megan hadn't answered her calls. At this point, she was starting to think it was something serious.

Although she was worried, she couldn't stop the time from turning and still had three classes to get through. After making sure her report had been properly downloaded to the classroom database, she headed back inside the room and typed in a couple of keywords. Her history teacher, Mr. Wilkins, and his bushy mustache appeared this time in front, along with an array of students along the walls beside her. In vain, Clara searched them for Megan.

"While we are awaiting the rest of our class, please start opening the files you should have written last night. Don't bother with sending them to me just yet," Mr. Wilkins addressed the whole class. Heads bent down around Clara, and she followed suit.

As the essay slowly appeared piece by piece, Clara scanned it through one last time to check for any errors or faulty information. All of her main points were admirable, and she could find no sentences fixed together inadequately. In all, she was satisfied with her work and flashed a smile at the teacher. A few minutes later, all of the attendant pupils were present in the classroom.

Mr. Wilkins' eyes peered at a spot just to the right of the camera filming him. "Ah, yes," he said disdainfully. "I heard we had an absence today." He looked back at us, and his immense mustache twitched slightly. "But, no matter. We can do nothing but continue our lesson as planned. I understand yesterday I assigned three different reports on modern history? In doing this, you only learned your assignment, and are completely oblivious to the two other topics studied by the others. I think we could share some of our reports with the rest of the class?"

The class grumbled incomprehensibly.

Wilkins blocked them all out and continued. "Ryan, could you please start us off?" A tall boy whose face lay in the corner of Clara's classroom sat up a little straighter in his chair. "You wrote on the changes in the government, am I correct?"

"Yes," he repied.

"Please explain what provoked these changes."

"Oh, okay," he began, seemingly relieved at the simple question. "There were many uprisings in mainly what used to be Tennessee, but everywhere too. They felt the government had too much control over, well, everything. The previous US government had monitored everything done in real life, and online too, back then. They argued that they had a right to their privacy."

"Anything else?" prompted the teacher.

"Yes, of course." Ryan fidgeted in his chair. "A litle over a century ago, people were saying that the federal government also was gaining too much power over everything. They protested that the states and cities themselves should have more control over laws and regulations."

"Excellent answer," said Mr. Wilkins. "Now, how did those protests begin to develop into an entire new government, Sean?"

Sean gazed at the teacher and responded, "Well, over a span of ten years the protests became more and more violent. At the climax of it all, a group of about 1,000 people, led by  Camille Peighton, stormed the White House and other federal buildings. They eventually defeated them in a short battle and voted Peighton the Governor of the entire US." Sean seemed pleased with himself at his ability to answer his question correctly and immediately.

"Good job. And Clara?" Clara jolted upwards. "Please tell us some of the changes Peighton made as Governor."

"Oh, um..." She tried to hide herself behind a layer of dirty-blonde hair. "First of all, she promised she would never pay any attention to anybody's private lives, like department store security footage and Friendspace posts, unless it was absolutely necessary for evidence for or against crimes. The next thing she did was divide the US into smaller Sectors. In the Sectors, everyone's laws, votes, and opinions counted more, and she also made a promise never to let the federal government take as much control this time. A few other issues were resolved, of course, helping the government become more transparent and less secretive about what it is doing. Now we know exactly what the government's up to at any given time."

"Very informative, Clara. For now, I think we'll move on to the next topic. Clark, please explain to us how OnLife was made."

Clark began to retell the story Megan had recounted to her not so long ago. In her opinion, Clara thought Megan had done a far better job of it.

"And, Sara," said Wilkins. Clara watched Sara gracefully push a perfectly curled and gelled strand of hair out of her face and bat her heavily mascaraed eyelashes.

"Yes?" she replied daintily.

"Please continue the story from there and tell us how OnLife began growing so immensely."

"Oh, um, yes, um," she blushed. "Well, er, people really liked it, like, a lot, and so they, um, bought it."

Wilkins sighed, "You don't buy OnLife: it's free."

Sara was confused. "Well then, how do they make their money?"

Wilkins hung his head, as if in shame.  "They get a piece of every purchase made. Please continue with the answer now."

"Oh, okay. Well, I think she starts advertising it a bunch, so people saw it and thought it looked neat to have?" She phrased her answer as a question, like she was asking "Is this the right answer?"

Mr. Wilkins looked up at her again, and said, "She couldn't advertise until she was successful enough to have enough money to pay for it, now could she?"

"Oh, um, yes..." Sara seemed ashamed.

Clara sighed at her. She remembered a conversation with Megan one time about Sara. "She may be pretty, but she's as vacuous as a fruit fly," Megan had said. Clara almost laughed aloud at the memory.

Sara's head whipped to the side and her nostrils flared. Oops. Apparently Clara's glee had not gone unnoticed, and Sara had assumed it was aimed at her (which, technically it was). Clara bent her head over her desk and pretended to be making a few extra improvements on her essay.

Three aggravating hours later (which Clara suspected the majority of had been spent listening to Sara struggle with her question), school was finally over for the day. Clara sighed and stepped out of her last class, and she blinked in the light of the hallway. She was clutching her Portscreen 37, which still displayed a lesson on complex algebraic expressions. As she attempted to turn it to the home screen it instead switched to a display asking if she would like to answer a call from Hazel.

"Accept," she decided.

"Hi, Clara," said Hazel. She was wearing a perturbed expression, and Clara was fairly certain she knew where it came from. "Was Megan in any of your classes today?" Hazel's statement confirmed Clara's suspicions.

"Nope," said Clara as she lumbered up the stairs to her room. "What do you reckon happened to her?"

"I don't know," Hazel responded. "When was the last time you spoke to her?"

"Last night, just after the winter finale of The Backwoods."

"Did she mention anything that might give a clue to her whereabouts?" Hazel prodded.

Clara thought back to the previous night's conversation. "No, we just talked about the show and our history reports. Oh, and then she asked me for a flash drive. Nothing suspicious at all, really."

"A flash drive?"

"Her mom blocked her account again," Clara explained. She settled onto her bed and added, "Television, play Celebrity Watch from eight thirty-four this morning." The program began just where Clara had left off before school.

"That makes sense," Hazel laughed.

Clara nodded. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a screen that she had been left on her Friendspace. She noted the bell in the corner, signifying a private message.

"Hold on a moment," she told Hazel, and set her Portscreen down on the bed. She tapped on the message, noting that it was another one from Alice.

"Clara, turn on the news channel NOW" 

Puzzled, Clara said aloud, "Never mind, TV, turn on the news channel."

The screen changed from a photo of Vanessa Hinge to a photo of...Megan. 

"Volume, up!" Clara stated anxiously.

"What's going on?" asked Hazel, who was straining her neck to take a peek despite the her restricting view from the Portscreen.

"...Sector 486 was caught hacking into government files this morning."

What?

"She downloaded classified files onto a flash drive."

Megan, what were you thinking?

"However, the flash drive had been bought by someone else, because her own account had been blocked by her mother for a smaller crime."

The flash drive Clara bought was shown.

"Her recent activities are being investigated as we speak."

Clara gulped.

"Both Patterson and the buyer of the flash drive are found guilty of treason against the US."

Clara felt as if someone had just punched her in the stomach, and hard.

She was guilty of treason.

And the most common punishment for treason is death.

What had Megan done?