The Facility

by Eliza Green

  Dom leaned forward, looked into her eyes. He shook his head, kept his eyes forward.

  What was his problem? Why did Dom act different to the other boys, who were more carefree? Why were his pupils never dilated like the others’? Like hers?

  Anya wished to be carefree like the others, not moody and silent like Dom, but something drew her to the darkness he worked so hard to hide. She could see it in his eyes and the way he pretended to act like everyone else. He’d been through something similar. Maybe one day she’d ask him about it.

  Dom turned suddenly and caught her eye. He raised his eyebrows, and she almost laughed at his comical expression, until she felt another pair of eyes on her.

  A flush of heat bloomed in her cheeks when the lead wolf studied her with its deep-yellow eyes. Something caught its attention and it looked away to snarl at a couple of boys who laughed in the corner.

  She stiffened as another wolf stalked towards her.

  ‘Hey, Anya,’ Dom called. The wolf stopped in its tracks. ‘I’ve got your bucket.’

  He ignored the staring wolf as he pushed the spare bucket of water towards her and handed her an extra mop.

  The wolf’s proximity sent a shiver through her. She grabbed the mop and began to clean her section. She let out a shaky breath when the wolf went off to bother someone else.

  Dom got to work in the section beside her.

  ‘Thanks for that.’ Her voice was barely a whisper.

  ‘What’s with you today? You like playing with fire or something?’

  His anger surprised her. She stared at him until he looked away. She’d only started in Arcis a few days ago. She was handling things just fine.

  Her gentle figure-eight pattern turned into sharp, hard lines across her section. She was already sick of the cleaning, but Arcis kept her safe from the rebels.

  She watched one of the younger wolves step in the rich brown soil surrounding the genetically modified trees in the arboretum, as it had done on her first day. She stood back as it tracked new dirt across her section.

  Anya worked her mop through the brown dirt. A sudden clacking noise drew her attention to the first floor. She stopped and looked up. A young woman of about eighteen, dressed in an ill-fitting suit and a pair of black pumps, rushed across the rippling walkway. She seemed distracted—flustered, almost—and carried a single stationery file under her arm. She disappeared through the entrance to the second tower.

  Dom appeared like a ghost beside her, and she jumped.

  ‘Hey, quit your daydreaming.’ He worked Section Nine with a wet mop head. ‘The dogs are watching you the closest today. You’ll never get off the ground floor if you don’t do the work.’

  She ignored his warning.

  ‘What do you think’s in the second tower?’ Their ground floor access limited them to the lobby, changing rooms and atrium.

  Dom kept mopping, but his hard gaze softened. ‘I don’t know. But you won’t find out down here.’

  She’d overheard some of the other participants say the second tower could only be accessed from the first floor. To get to the first floor, you needed an elevator pass.

  He looked up. ‘The ninth floor is where you really want to be. You need to set your sights a little higher, Anya.’

  Her sights were just fine. But a part of her wondered about the ninth floor. The Holy Grail. The place that made the others work harder. The further up she looked, the less she could see. How could she get excited about a place she knew so little about?

  A prickle ran up her spine when one of the wolves walked into her line of sight. She dragged her mop across the floor, listening to the mechanical breathing as the beast paced back and forth.

  Something small and dark caught her eye before it hit the floor with a loud shattering sound. A smashed coffee mug. She stared at the third one to fall since she started, and then up at the collection of floors.

  A swirl of dark-brown liquid spread out from the mug, seeping mostly into her section, with some of it reaching Dom’s. She brushed away the brown splatters on her grey jumpsuit, but her efforts only embedded them deeper.

  Dom worked the part of his section where the coffee had landed.

  ‘You okay?’ he asked, his tone light.

  She didn’t answer him as she knelt in a clean spot next to the spill and picked up the shards of broken porcelain.

  A little coffee wasn’t the worst thing to find its way to the floor. Yesterday, she’d discovered blood in her section. Sometimes, acid leaked from someplace up high.

  The lead wolf barked instructions at her.

  ‘Dispose of the pieces in the garbage chute.’

  Its voice sounded distorted, like it spoke through a metal grate.

  Anya dropped the pieces down a chute set into one of the solid walls. They clattered into the metal sides on the way down.

  She tackled the remaining brown spill with her mop. Dom watched her from his clean section.

  ‘Just be grateful that’s all it was this time,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah?’ said Anya. ‘Nothing I can’t handle.’

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’

  She looked up at him. ‘Then what?’

  He shrugged. ‘I wouldn’t like to spoil the surprise. Rotation’s coming up soon.’

  Ω

  Lunchtime couldn’t come quick enough. Anya was so hungry she could chew off her own shaking hand. The factory, where Jason worked, supplied Arcis with meat-paste sandwiches, fruit, and juice or water. But today, she spotted something extra.

  Cheese.

  She smiled and wrapped up her ration in a cloth, and put it in her pocket. She’d just found Jason’s birthday present.

  She kicked off the afternoon’s work by polishing three brass plaques on the atrium walls. The first was a commemorative statement on the inception of Essention.

  From the ashes of fighting rises hope for a brave new world.

  The second referenced Arcis—the Latin word for ‘fortress’ or ‘stronghold’—as a beacon for that brave new world.

  The third summarised the Praesidium philosophy on learning and improvement.

  We must encourage and embrace new ideas that teach us to be more than we are.

  Anya knew these ideas well. Everything Praesidium taught she had learned in school.

  A sharp rattle filled the atrium space as the metal shutter rolled up. Four sets of yellow eyes peered out from a dark and gloomy backdrop. The wolves stepped forward, the light giving them form.

  Anya twisted the cloth in her hand. They’re just supervisors, Anya. Not predators. She dropped her cloth into the nearest cleaning vestibule and half-ran back to her section. She didn’t want to be singled out again.

  Her body stiffened when the wolves paced too close. She dropped her gaze to the floor, and listened to the clacking claws muted by a softer, padded step.

  The nearest wolf dipped its head and growled.

  ‘Anya Macklin. Section Eight does not conform to Arcis’ Hygiene Code, paragraph eleven, on cleanliness.’

  Heat rushed to her face. The wolf bent its giant head and sniffed at the floor. Her fear gave way to curiosity as she examined its curves: from the gentle slope of the back extending to the tail to the deeper dip of its belly that started out bulbous where the ribs should have been but rose upwards and narrowed towards the back legs. The machine’s chest rose and fell as though it were capable of breathing on its own.

  Its voice broke her reverie.

  ‘You are required to clean this section again, by hand. Avoid kneeling in any clear spills you might find.’

  Then she noticed the new liquid that had dropped from somewhere high.

  She saw Dom mouthing Go! at her.

  She grabbed a scrubbing brush, a bucket of water and a pair of kneepads from one of the cleaning vestibules, then raced back to her section and dropped to her knees. She removed a blue-and-white handkerchief from her pocket and tied it around her nose and mouth. The acid had a sickly-sweet smell, like
rotting food.

  The quiet atrium contrasted the flurry of activity on the walkways above. The soft swish of mops resumed as the other participants ignored Anya again. Dom mopped his section, with one eye on the nearest wolf.

  Anya had heard rumours that the wolves could turn on you if they singled you out.

  One wrong move, and...

  She tried not to think about it as she started on her section. Twenty minutes later, she stood up. Her face felt hot and her hands were red-raw from clutching the brush so hard. The holographic border around her section changed back to green, but the wolf continued to watch her.

  Anya had no problem with hard work. But this task had only fuelled her fear. Unlike running. That gave her control.

  ‘Section Eight conforms with Arcis’ Hygiene Code, paragraph eleven,’ the wolf growled. ‘Resume your normal duties.’

  Anya stood like a statue until the four wolves had disappeared back into their nook. Then her shoulders rounded and the ache spread to her muscles. A breath she’d been holding rushed out of her.

  Dom appeared by her side.

  ‘It’s like you go into a goddamn trance or something. Next time, how about you leave the daydreaming for after they leave?’

  ‘I wasn’t daydreaming. I was watching them, if you must know. How they move, it’s strange to me. You wouldn’t understand.’

  She thought she saw Dom’s eyes widen a fraction, but the look soon vanished. She must have imagined it.

  ‘If nothing else, that should work in your favour.’

  ‘For what?’ She pulled out a banana she’d taken from the food hall at lunch.

  ‘For rotation! Remember why you’re here, Anya.’

  That wasn’t her reason for coming to Arcis. She felt safe here. Rotation meant returning to a life fraught with rebel dangers.

  ‘I don’t want to rotate. I like what I’m doing.’ Her anger muted the sweet flavour of the banana, and she shoved the skin in her pocket.

  Dom checked his watch then leveled a glare at her.

  ‘Rotation will be here in a few weeks. Let’s see if you still agree then.’

  That evening, Anya arrived home to an empty house and a note on the kitchen table from Jason.

  They asked me to work late tonight. See you later.

  She left the pathetic piece of cheese on the note and scribbled a quick message underneath.

  Happy birthday, Jason. Sorry it’s not much.

  7

  A thunderous bell signalled lunchtime. It had been a week since Anya had started in Arcis and worked out how the place operated. Her hunger moved her at a fast clip to the dining room ahead of the others, located to the left of the wolves’ den.

  Chatter rose behind her and she raced to the food counter that ran the length of the back wall. Rumbles of laughter and animated conversation bounced around the deadened space as they joined the queue behind her.

  Pre-packed sandwiches, fruit and water were the main choices here. Each morning, her East Essention home would receive a delivery of canned beans, pots of meat and bread.

  She hadn’t seen Jason since his birthday, but her gift was gone the next evening and an addendum to her note read:

  Perfect, thanks.

  Anya picked up a tray and selected a sandwich, a banana and a bottle of water. She pressed her chipped wrist to a panel on the wall to record her selection then sat in one of the rows of white tables and benches which spanned the width of the room. Sheila, the tall, tanned friend of Dom’s, passed by her table with her food, laughing loudly at something a girl in her group had said. The sound of Sheila’s laughter made Anya’s sweet food taste bitter.

  Dom slid into the seat opposite Anya. He’d joined her for lunch every day: never talking, just eating. Except for one time on her third day when she’d ventured outside and Dom had found her. He’d asked her why she sat alone. She figured he’d meant to break the ice, but it reminded Anya of how she didn’t fit in with the other girls. In school, she’d never kept a friend beyond a few months; the girls always moved on to someone better and more interesting.

  Since neither gossip nor boys interested her, Anya got used to being alone.

  Two girls and two boys joined her table but didn’t sit close enough to mingle. The four began arguing about who had the bigger section to clean.

  Anya unwrapped her sandwich and took a bite. Bread with a thin layer of ham substitute. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten real meat. Praesidium had banned the towns from farming animals as food.

  The sandwich lacked flavor other than the taste of medication. Anya blocked out the sweetness as she ate.

  She almost choked on her next bite when she felt Dom’s eyes on her. When she looked at the boy with the dreadlocks and brown eyes, he began a new search for something inside the dining hall.

  ‘How long have you been in Arcis?’

  Her question dragged his eyes away from his search. ‘Five weeks.’

  ‘And you’ve been through rotation?’

  He searched the room again. ‘Yeah. Once.’

  ‘How long did it take for your dreadlocks to grow?’

  ‘Hmm?’

  ‘Your hair. How long?’

  His eyes finally settled on hers. They were a nice shade of brown: warm and kind of mysterious.

  ‘A year. Why?’

  This time last year, the rebels weren’t a threat and everyone lived peacefully in the towns. Six months later, Essention appeared. Three weeks ago, the rebels killed her parents.

  She shrugged. ‘Just wondering. Haven’t seen anyone with the same hairstyle, that’s all. The other boys all have the same short cut. Why did you start growing it out?’

  Anya’s medium-brown hair hung just below her shoulders. She didn’t do anything special with it, except tie it in a ponytail while working.

  ‘I fancied a change.’

  Anya continued her study of him causing Dom’s eyes to narrow.

  ‘Stop staring, will you? You’re creeping me out.’

  Her cheeks flared. ‘Stop making me out to be a pervert.’

  ‘Well, if the shoe fits...’ He smiled.

  ‘Forget it. I was just making conversation.’ She stared at her sandwich, then glared at Dom. ‘And you’re the one who sat down with me, not the other way around.’

  ‘Yeah, I did, didn’t I?’ Dom gave her his full attention. ‘Where did Praesidium find you and your brother?’

  His gaze was soft now, curious.

  ‘In Brookfield town. You?’

  ‘A place called Foxrush.’

  ‘Were your parents killed by the rebels?’ she whispered.

  His gaze shifted away from her. She shouldn’t have asked.

  ‘No. Yours?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘That must have been a shock.’

  ‘I was hiding. Jason tried to help them but it was too late.’ Her hands shook on the table. She failed to mention she’d been their target.

  Dom brushed his fingers over the tops of her hands. Startled, she pulled them back.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He retracted his hand and stared at his food. ‘Essention will be a fresh start for all of us, including your brother.’

  She swallowed. ‘So, why weren’t you rotated the last time?’

  Dom shrugged. ‘I didn’t take this place seriously enough. I know better now.’

  ‘How does rotation work? Is everyone rotated eventually?’

  ‘Not everyone gets off the ground floor. Sometimes you need a little... motivation.’

  ‘Like what?’ She looked around at the twenty-eight other participants.

  ‘Just work hard and they’ll notice you.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘It means just what I said.’

  Dom’s vague answer irritated her.

  ‘Where do the coffee cups come from?’ Five had fallen from one of the upper floors in the space of a week.

  Dom leaned in. She caught herself before she did the same.

 
‘Rotation makes people nervous. I guess the pressure increases the further up you go.’ He brought a bottle of water to his lips and she watched the movement. ‘It won’t be long before rotation is here again, in a few weeks. You should prepare now.’

  Anya played with her food. ‘I told you, I don’t want to rotate.’

  Dom slammed down his bottle. ‘This isn’t a game, Anya.’

  Anya leaned back, startled. ‘I never said it was.’ Her reply came out weak and soft, unlike her anger that stirred inside her. Yet something kept at bay. ‘I understand what rotation means. But I like it on the ground floor. I’m not ready to move on.’

  Dom had no business telling her when that should be.

  He sneered and took a bite from his sandwich.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ Her cheeks felt hot.

  ‘Why do you zone out when the wolves are around?’

  ‘I don’t zone out. I study them. I’ve never seen robotic wolves before.’

  ‘And I’ve never seen a redback spider,’ said Dom. ‘Doesn’t mean I want a closer look. I thought you were smarter than the others.’

  ‘You barely know me, Dom Pavesi. Why would you assume that?’

  ‘I thought you didn’t buy into the programme,’ he whispered, moving closer. She looked into his eyes, never quite as black as the other participants’ after they’d eaten. ‘The rest of them act like a bunch of kids, blindly follow orders. When the wolves appear they fall over themselves to impress. But not you.’

  She frowned. She thought that was exactly what she did.

  Dom continued. ‘You watch them, study them. You seem interested in what they’re about.’

  Their movement interested her; it always had. So why was Dom watching her?

  ‘But then you pretend it’s all a joke to you. Like you don’t care about progressing.’ He leaned back and ate some more.

  ‘It’s not a joke and I do care. It’s not the right time.’ She didn’t care. Witnessing her parents’ murder had changed her. These days, she found solace in isolation and rules.