Her thoughts started to extend outside her own preservation. Had Devina already exposed herself in such a short time? Had she done something foolish and radical like attacking Victor? Youth tended to have so little control over their impulses; it was not wise to give someone so young such great responsibility. There was, of course, constant talk from the rebellion about taking Victor out. So many of them could not see another way to gain control of the transport device. Freya didn’t feel that he needed to be taken care of; just one swift siege would get them to the colony world. She still wasn’t completely convinced of the plan but was willing to play her part for Ursa.
When she arrived at her apartment, her monitor was flashing indicating a message in her inbox. They must be questioning her absence, or perhaps they already knew of the malfunction. She opened the message, her eyes trying to read so quickly she almost couldn’t focus her vision.
Freya 117,
You are not required to report into your civil duty today. Enjoy your day of free time.
Regards,
The State
Freya read the message several times. Each time, she became angrier, like the temperature rising on a pot of water placed on a hot stovetop. Why had they not sent the message before I left my apartment? There had obviously been some sort of an incident, or at least a threat, yet she was held off somewhere safe just like she was when she was sixteen years old. There was only one thing for her to do, and that was to go for a run. She changed quickly and headed to the underwhelming gym.
Having a track was what she missed most; it was the greatest downfall of independent living. Somehow running on a treadmill just wasn’t the same. It also reminded her of the time when she lived in the State house just after Colin was taken away. It didn’t give her the same emotional release as running on a track. It felt too symbolic of her life—no matter how hard she pushed, her efforts were always in vain. She couldn’t go anywhere or change anything. She was simply trapped in one spot continually pushing onward.
Her pace was steady; she knew better than to push too hard. Injuries were not a risk she could afford. It was her cross-training day to use the bike, but she knew that only a run would cut it. There was more than enough time to do both, if she had any stamina left. What am I going to do with myself today? A workout could only last so long, and she knew if she didn’t keep herself busy, her mind would run in circles and she would drive herself crazy.
She spent a long time stretching and doing strength training after she finished with her cardio. A part of her knew that as soon as she got back to her apartment she would do nothing but watch the clock. This was her only escape.
Her time spent at home was a series of nervous pacing and frustrating attempts at puzzles or reading. She had finally run out of things to do, and it was time for her afternoon meal. The hunger brewing in her stomach was all that motivated her to leave as meals were never delivered to the exercise facility, only in a common room or apartment. She thought momentarily about the common room as an alternative, but she knew her frustration should not be made public.
After returning to her apartment, she retrieved her meal from the delivery slot in the wall. Her workout had made her ravenous, but she was not given extra rations. When she was young, she remembered getting larger portions of food when she had a particularly strenuous workout that day, but not anymore. It was so obvious she was surprised people were not complaining about it openly. The older people became and the less work productivity they were capable of, the less food they would receive. Perhaps it was the State’s way of balancing out the imbalance of medications used by the different age groups.
There was a moment of hesitation, but after finishing her meal, she retrieved a breakfast bar from her cupboard. It was not wise to eat ahead of her rations, but she had found a secret stash of bars in the kitchen at the State house. It held rather high risks for her to dip into that stash too often, but when an opportunity presented itself, she was grateful for the deep pockets of her uniform.
Never had she imagined she would steal food rations, yet it was something she did when the opportunity presented itself. She had formed a theory in her mind, or maybe it was a rationalization, that those bars were on their way down to the military tunnels. Or perhaps they were meant for Victor, or everyone at the State house. If she was ever caught, her intentions were to plead ignorance and say she thought they were there for the workers of the State home’s consumption.
An alert chimed on her tablet, and the monitor on the wall flashed. It was odd to receive two messages in one day. Something had to have happened. A sick feeling came over her, and her hands trembled slightly as she opened the message.
Freya 117,
It is now required of you to report into the State house at your earliest convenience.
Regards,
The State
Her body reacted before her mind had time to understand. She heaved, her body turning off to the side. She ran to the kitchen and grabbed a glass of water, trying to stop the impulse fighting to take over her. Someone was dead, or she was being arrested; there could be no other possible explanation.
With her commute, she would hardly have a few hours to work; it made much more sense to leave her be. This had to be an emergency, and as per usual, the State was vague, leaving her in the dark.
It took a moment for her to gain control of herself, to get both her stomach and emotions in check. Hopefully, Security was not watching her and didn’t see her reaction to the message. She walked into the bathroom and splashed some cold water on her face, trying to reduce the flushed color from her emotions.
It would be best if she left immediately. Not just to get answers, but also simply because it would look suspicious if she waited too long. She changed quickly and left her apartment.
It was a long walk, and she was regretting her intensive cardio. Her legs felt fatigued, or perhaps the feeling was coming from the wear and tear on her soul, and her body was just showing signs of it. She placed her hand on the same scanner with apprehension. Would it work this time?
The light flashed almost instantly, and the door opened like it always did. Whatever the crisis, it had been cleaned up. She headed down the matrix of doors and hallways until she reached the final door and waited for Security to grant her access. The door opened and she walked inside.
There was an eerie stillness—no one to be found in the kitchen or dining area. She couldn’t see anyone in any of their normal areas they would be occupying. She walked to Victor’s office, and he was sitting there behind his desk as he often did, and it appeared as though nothing was wrong. He simply looked up and smiled.
“Freya, thank you for coming,” he said to her. “Please take a seat.”
She could feel her heart pounding in her ears and throat. What was all of this about? Dutifully, she took her seat and waited for Victor to give her the terrible news.
“Did you enjoy your morning?”
Freya’s shoulders and mouth tensed up. He wasn’t going to come right out with it; this was going to be painful. She doubted her nerves could take it.
“I would have rather been here, but I used the time well, I suppose,” she replied in a cold tone.
He smiled at her statement, and rubbed his lips together while contemplating his choice of words. “I can see that as per usual, small talk evades you.”
“You locked me out of the State house this morning, and then sent for me after informing me that I had the day off,” she replied. “I am sure there was a purpose to this all. I would prefer if you revealed that purpose.”
“Freya, were you terribly unhappy living in this house?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.
She could not hide her frustration. Everything was a game to him, something to be drawn out. If only he could just get to the point.
“I don’t understand the relevance of such a question.”
“I’m afraid, it is terribly relevant at the moment.” He leaned back in his chair, and looked
at the ceiling above her head.
“Perhaps you could share that relevance with me, and then I could understand the context of the question.”
“Is context that terribly important?” he asked.
“Yes. Context is everything, I find.”
She stared at him intensely, refusing to back down. This was not their first power struggle.
“Very well then. I need to supply the Council with a list of names. I am trying to decide if you are going to be on that list,” he answered.
“Well, that would depend on the nature of that list. If they are requesting a list of really fantastic gardeners, then yes, I would think you should put my name on that list.”
Instead of getting angry, Victor smiled. He had always been amused by her hot temper and sarcastic replies.
“You never cease to amuse me, Freya.” He paused. “I could use a little amusement now.”
Part of her wanted to make another sarcastic or clever retort, but she just wasn’t in the mood to play into it. Something was wrong, and after all these years, he still treated her like a child.
“I need to submit a list of names, people who I recommend to the Council as my replacement. I am contemplating if you belong on that list.”
Freya’s mouth went dry. She nearly gagged on the sensation. Was he being serious? Me? He is considering me? This was crazy, and the best thing that could ever happen, for everyone. There would be no war; there would be no more rebellion, and no division between the State and the new colony world. If she was chosen, it would be a complete turnaround, countless lives would be changed, and even spared.
“You’re serious?” she blurted out. It was the least intelligent thing she possibly could have said, but the shock had gotten the best of her.
“There was an incident this morning.” He looked at her somberly. “The Council has been asking for my recommendations for a while. I am not as young as I once was.” He leaned back again and looked off into the gardens. “I think the Council would be more than happy to retire me at this point. Perhaps that could have been my motivation to withhold on submitting my list for as long as I have. There was an attempted attack on the State house this morning, on our house. Luckily, no one was injured, and no major damage was done. It has, however, left the Council in a bit of a tiff about me not yet having my recommendations compiled.”
“I thought the Council agreed on the head of State collaboratively,” Freya replied.
“They do, or at least certain members of it anyway. It is really just a political token gesture that I be a part of that collaboration.”
“Are you saying it doesn’t really matter?” she asked. “That if you put my name on the list they could just disregard it anyway?”
“I am not sure. They will take my list into consideration if it is convenient, I suppose.”
“You mean if you name off the people they were already considering,” she replied. “What is the point of putting my name there at all? Do you really think they would consider me seriously?”
“I wonder if they have considered you already,” he answered.
She nearly jumped in surprise. Could that even be possible? Would anyone really want me to become the head of State?
“You seem surprised, my dear. You shouldn’t be. You certainly fit the profile, after all.”
“I do?”
“Of course. You are not attached; you would rather work than do anything else. I don’t think I need to point out your outstanding track record and your service to the military. Yes, you are by all means, what the Council looks for when appointing a new head of State.”
Freya sat in stunned silence. Her mind could not believe it was real. For twenty years, she had expected to be caught for her involvement in the rebellion, but instead they were offering her the throne. He watched her reaction in silence. There were too many things swarming her mind to keep her facial expressions neutral.
“I do, however, have one reservation. I am concerned you will not be happy living here at the State house. And so you see, Freya, that is a question of great importance to me right now.”
She sat and stared off into the gardens. It felt impossible for words to form in her mind, but she knew she had to pull herself together.
“I wanted to live in independent living so I could be a spy,” she finally was able to say.
“Are you saying you would in fact be happy living here permanently?” Victor asked. “Of course, you would have to give up your days as a spy also if you were to become head of State.”
Freya nodded. It was not the proper way to acknowledge or agree to what he said, but it was what felt natural at the moment. Her words would surely betray her. Victor continued to stare at her wordlessly, and she knew a firm statement would be required.
“Yes, I think I could be happy here, and willing to give up my life as a spy to better serve the Council,” she finally managed to say. If she were younger, or still innocent, she would have said she wanted to serve the people, but she knew better—age had brought much clarity to that matter. The State didn’t serve the people; it served itself.
Victor didn’t seem to notice her choice of words. A smile simply spread across his face.
“It is settled then.” He typed into his tablet for a moment. “I have completed my list of recommendations and sent it off to them. You will expect a series of interviews for your candidacy. It is not a short process. Due to the rather vast distance between this place and your living quarters, you will be expected to take up residency immediately in one of the spare apartments in the State house.”
It took every morsel of control that Freya possessed to not let her face show any reaction to the news. Being in the running for head of State was fantastic; being cut off from her contact in the rebellion was terrifying.
“Certainly,” she said, rapidly trying to come up with an excuse to leave. “Shall I expect to move in here tomorrow after my day of civil duty?” It was a long shot that Lita would show up in the common room that night, but she had to at least try to pass along the information. What would Lita think if I just disappeared?
“Why not start tonight?” Victor asked.
She wondered whether he was playing a game of chicken with her, to see if she would reveal she didn’t really want to be there. If he was, she couldn’t afford to play his little game, and leave things to chance. “Do you not need time to make arrangements? Have the apartment prepared or take care of my former apartment?”
“Not at all. The apartment is ready for you now, and your apartment in independent living is already being taken care of as we speak.”
He watched her, waiting for her reply. She wondered whether he was waiting for any more protests.
“Wonderful. I do hope I get the apartment with the view of the gardens,” she said, trying to look excited about the prospect of moving back into the State house. “I have missed it greatly.”
The corners of his mouth turned up into a half smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t dream of putting you anywhere else,” he said. “I think that wraps everything up. You are free to go to your apartment, but I am sure you will choose to work in the gardens instead.”
“You know me so well.” She smiled sheepishly, playing into the fabrication of the close nature of their relationship.
He laughed a little at her remark, but didn’t start any banter. “Congratulations. I am very proud of you, and the woman you have grown into.”
Freya nodded and thanked him, and could hardly wait to find her center, her solace, on the grounds where she belonged.
Chapter 5
It was early in the morning, and Freya didn’t quite know what to do with herself. Her body was so accustomed to waking up early for the commute to the State house she no longer had. With her new arrangements, her hours were not set either. She was free to work or not to work whenever she liked.
There was no common room to go to, no chores to be done. The responsibility of cleaning her apartment had been left to someone else.
She really had nothing more to do but exercise, work, or sleep. She could be called in at any time for an interview, but she didn’t know when that would likely happen, or how much of her time it would consume.
Freya decided it was best to exercise first thing in the morning because she didn’t know when her schedule would be disturbed. She changed her clothing and headed down to the small room and started to ride the bike. Nothing would feel better than a nice long run, but she had pushed a little too hard physically the previous day. As she found the bike so unfulfilling, it did nothing to silence her mind, and her thoughts couldn’t help but to sift information.
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