by Jason Luthor
Recording Three
I don’t know. I’m not in a mood for recording today, but that kind of defeats the point of recording in the first place, I guess. This thing is supposed to be for when I’m moody. Now, it’s not like I’m in a bad mood. Actually, things are kinda good right now. Allison found a CD somewhere. It’s got some real wicked crazy dance music on it. Good stuff. You don’t hear a lot of music like that because the music on our computers is . . . well, let’s call it limited. We network and share everything we find, but still, it’s not like we have a lot of musicians producing new music these days. If you’re hearing it right now, they were probably listening to it whenever the hell many years ago, before we got stuck in here.
Still, like I said, music’s a high-demand kind of thing.
Especially dance music. Now I hate dancing, because I’m terrible at it, but it’s nice to pretend as if I can do it once in a while. So yeah, me and Allison had a dance-off. The thing is, I’ve seen this happen in some of those terribly cheesy movies about besties I’ve watched on Blu-Ray. I didn’t think it was real, but . . . somehow it felt okay to let off some steam and just . . . dance. Like an idiot.
God. How typical. I’m too ashamed of my own silliness to even keep recording.
Recording Four
Have I talked much about Floor 3? I don’t think so. Anyway, one of the solar panels on the roof cracked today. We really can’t afford that. This tower doesn’t have the materials to fix solar panels, or at least not enough to fix many of them, so that’s why there are a lot of rules about how to behave when you’re on the rooftop. Danny was goofing around, and he accidentally launched his spade through the air. It’d have been okay if the thing had gone flying over the edge, but instead, it’s like it had a mind of its own because it went straight for that solar panel.
The thing cracked, and you just knew, just knew, how bad the situation was the moment you heard the glass splintering on the ground. Might as well have thrown a kid over the edge by the way we all just . . . stared. It took Security exactly one minute to get to the roof and haul Danny off. I don’t know when we’ll see him again. I mean, he’ll be back. These things happen. But one of Security’s jobs is to reinforce the rules to you whenever you break them. They make sure you really know how important it is to follow the laws of the Tower. Sounds totally creepy, right? Glad I’ve never had to go in for Reinforcement.
Anyway, Dad showed up on the roof with them. Guy’s funny, you know? Still looks like he’s in his twenties when I know he’s, like closing in on fifty. Those glasses he wears are way too big for his head, and his hair is kinda, I don’t know, uncombed. It works for him, though. Some girls think he’s handsome. Allison’s actually told me she has a crush on him. Yeah. That’s gross.
Well, him and his team scraped up all the pieces. Somehow they’ll figure a way to repair the panel, since that’s pretty much what Floor 3’s all about. Story goes that it was one of the first floors they made safe in the Tower. Makes sense, really. People couldn’t live here if guys like my dad weren’t busy doing stuff for Science and keeping us alive. We’d have no solar panels for power, so, no movies, lights, stuff like that. Not to mention it’d be impossible to maintain the garden. The vegetables we grow up there are from seeds created in the labs. Dad says that once upon a time, vegetables needed a lot more light and rain to stay alive. These vegetables can survive on less, and last longer. That’s cool. We’d have no food without them.
Oh. Allison’s here. I think she brought the dance music again. God.
Recording Five
I freakin’ hate Allison.
Ugh.
No, I don’t. I love her. I hate her, then I love her, or the other way around. One minute we’re just sitting around, laughing it up. The next thing I know, we’re arguing. She just doesn’t get it, you know? She doesn’t get that I’m not okay with living here. Living like this. Not knowing why we’re in this tower. I ask questions, a lot of questions, and she acts like I’m the one with a problem when I’m just being me. Why can’t she get that?
I mean . . . it’s her fault, right?
Then again, it’s not like I’m rolling deep with a crowd of friends. And when you piss everyone, the problem might not be them so much. Problem might be you.
At least that’s how I feel right now.
But it’s seriously hard standing out for being what you are. And the thing is, I get it. I’m annoying. I get on people’s nerves because I don’t like the answers I get, and not just about the Tower, but, like, life. Both my parents are freakin’ scientists, so of course I want to know the “why” of everything. It’s not as if I want to be a thorn in everyone’s butt.
God.
So she gets here and waves that CD of hers, flashing it while she smiles like a huckster. Before I can slap her hand away, she stuffs it into the radio and starts doing that stupid dance of hers. She does this thing where she kinda points to the sky. Repeatedly, like she’s trying to poke holes in the roof. Allison always follows it up with a fist pump. That doesn’t change today as she switches into her awkward hip thrusts. I’ve said I’m not a dancer, but Allison can make you go blind with her moves.
Still, it’s funny, you know? I can dig it. Kinda. I don’t mind embarrassing myself as long as it’s just her, so I go to my signature move, this sort of walking head bob. Hey, it’s the best I can get done with these stumpy legs of mine, okay? Anyway, the situation . . . it’s fine. Good, quality embarrassment between friends. If you can’t make a shameful sight in front of your best friend, who else are you going to embarrass yourself in front of?
So we wrap it up after the sweat on our foreheads makes it abundantly apparent we’re not in the sort of shape to be dancing erratically for more than, hm, five minutes. Not that I complain when we switch the CD off. Still, we’re laughing as I collapse into the chair across from her. “Pretty good stuff,” I say as I bury my face in my hands. “Just as long as nobody else sees it.”
“Nah, you know me,” she replies with that almost patented grin of hers. Allison’s always had this freakishly large smile, and it seems to stand out even against her light skin and blonde hair. God, that hair of hers is so straight. Every time I try to do my best to flatten mine, it’s like fighting against a jungle. Anyway, she gestures at the radio. “Hand it over, will ya?”
“Yeah, sure,” I say as I reach back, ejecting the CD and tossing the radio like a weapon.
She lets out this banshee scream as she slaps her hands around it. “Jackie! You know how rare these things are? It’s not like we can just get another one.”
“You’ve already backed it up to the network, haven’t you?” I ask, nodding to the computer.
“Of course, I have, but that’s not the point. These things are one of a kind. Not like the Scavengers find these every day.”
“Yeah, seems like the farther down the Tower they go, the less we see of this stuff.”
She shrugs. “Hey, they’ve been bringing back a lot more food lately. Not going to complain about that.”
“Guess you’re right,” I reply. “I’m kinda looking forward to this next Scavenging.”
“Aren’t we all? I mean, I’m already getting my banners ready. Oh, that reminds me, I need you to come by to help me glue the letters to it. I managed to trade some makeup for glitter the other day. That’s going to make for an awesome sign to hang in the hallway.”
I wave her off. “Yeah, yeah, you know I’m gonna be there. Dork.” She seems oblivious to my point, though. “Anyway, about looking forward to this Scavenging . . . It just seems like they’re having to go a lot deeper into the Tower than they used to, you know? I’m just, I dunno, interested in seeing if they find anything. Anything not food, I mean. Something important.”
“Jackie, are you seriously still on about this?”
I look at her with a ferociously perturbed glare as I hold my palms up. “What am I on, Allison? I’m just saying.”
“I know, Jackie, I know, the proble
m is you’re always saying the same thing, and you know what can happen if you get too nosy. I mean, do you really want to end up going to Reinforcement?”
“For what? Asking questions?”
“Well . . . ?” She shrugs and nods like I should know the answer. “Jackie, there’s nothing below. This is all we have, and we live pretty good here.”
“I’m sorry, did I imagine it, or weren’t we just talking about having to decide between food and watching a movie, like that’s a decision that should be normal? Allison, the poor people in the movies we watch have more going for them than we do.”
“But that’s fantasy, and you’re only hurting yourself by focusing so much on them.”
So I’m just all sorts of righteously pissed off because I’m used to hearing this stuff from everyone, but Allison’s supposed to have my back. “Fine. Whatever. Guess I won’t bother thinking about having a life even slightly better than this miserable crapsack we live in.”
“Aren’t you being dramatic?”
I stab her with my eyes. “What did you say?”
“Jackie, I just mean there’s no point in trying to get below Floor 21.”
“Since when did I say that? I’m not asking to go there; I’m just saying I think we can do a little better than just sitting around waiting for the Creep to come get us. All I want to do is ask a few questions without having to worry about getting hauled off by Security.”
Her eyebrows raise like warning flags. “Yeah, well, Jackie, your behavior could end up getting everyone “hauled off,” so maybe you should think about toning it down. You’re at an eleven, and I need you to bring it down to an eight.”
“I can’t deal with this,” I say as I get out of the chair. “Dance party over.”
“Calm down now.”
“Hey, I’m calm, got it?” I ask as I lean my head toward the door. “Maybe I just want to take a nap.”
“Fine,” she replies as she darts past me, the floor clicking underneath her as she steps into the hall. “Call me when you feel like being a grown-up about this.”
“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” I demand as the door closes behind her. Immediately I turn around and go limp, my body collapsing like a bundle of wet towels into the couch. My utterly exasperated scream is muffled by the mountain of pillows I’ve burrowed into. Thank God! Wouldn’t want Mom’s crazy coming in here to pile on top of Allison’s.
Anyway, a few hours later, I’ve calmed down, but I still haven’t forgiven Allison. Oh no. That’s going to have to wait until I’ve had time to head to the baseball field to hit a few balls around. And probably break a bat.
Recording Six
Can I just state, for the record, that Mrs. Bloom has no frickin’ idea about what happened before the Before? I’d rather someone just tell me they don’t know something instead of pretending like they do.
That’s the thing, though. Everyone in the Tower acts like they know something about the world before the Darkness. Mr. McCauley at least comes up with stuff nobody else does, but Mrs. Bloom tried to convince me today that we had flying cars and cities above the clouds. I’ve seen movies, Mrs. Bloom. Whatever happened before the Before, we didn’t have any of those. Cars? Sure. Plenty of those. Trains? Okay, I’ve seen those. But cities that fly in the sky? Give me a break.
Someone was filming a long time ago—that’s why we have these movies in the first place—and none of the movies have flying cities.
Anyway, I got really frustrated with that conversation, but I get really frustrated with everyone these days. As if yesterday’s argument with Allison isn’t example numero uno about that, I’ve got some people lying to me about what happened before the Tower and others that don’t care.
And did I mention that Tommy tried to ask me out? I nearly decked him across the face. He knows I think he’s a tool bag and way too much of a jockstrap for me to ever be interested in. I just don’t get it. Tommy’s asking me out, and Allison’s picking fights with me. Like what the hell, life?
Recording Seven
About yesterday. I mean, what’s his idea of a date, anyway? He doesn’t like to read. All he does all day is work out in the gym on Floor 9, and every other word out of his mouth is wrestling, basketball, boxing, blah blah blah.
Don’t get me wrong; I like those, too. Not that I’m great at all of them, but I’m in shape, you know? Got a little muscle. Kinda. I can outwrestle half the guys I know and shoot a basketball like a sniper. And don’t get me started on baseball. I don’t miss with a bat.
That’s not the point anyway. My point is that a date for Tommy means working out, playing video games, and . . . I dunno, kissing. I mean, that’s what you’re usually supposed to do to end a date, right? Nothing wrong with any of that, but it’s not exactly everything I want in what I’d consider a fulfilling relationship. At the top of my list, I’d probably be looking for someone I could talk to, most likely because thinking about what’s below Floor 21 makes my head want to crack open. So Tommy’s a no-go from the start since his vocabulary’s as big as sports and more sports.
Urrrrrgh. Why is this bothering me so much today? Maybe because Tommy just really rubs me the wrong way. Maybe because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life. It’s not like there are a ton of other boys to date, at least not this high up the Tower, and Mom and Dad would never let me date someone from beneath Floor 11.
I mean, how would that even work? People from the lower floors aren’t allowed up here, I mean, unless they’re working. Safety reasons, they say. I get it. It’s not fair, but I get it. Someone from deep in the Tower could be really crazy from the Creep. They might even have some sort of infection or something. Can that really happen? I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard it can happen. Maybe. I dunno. People say lots of things about how it all works.
When I think about the details, I figure it really must suck living on the lower floors. People from higher up can go down there, even if they rarely do. I mean, why would they want to? On the other hand, people from the lower floors can’t go above Floor 12, since there’s a Security checkpoint that makes sure everyone heading to the higher floors has the right identification.
Oh yeah, identification. I get pretty tired of having to wear this thing around my neck all day. I mean, it’s not a huge pain, but it’s just not my style. It’s this glowing electronic card that makes me feel like I’m going to a horribly thought-up dance party. Security guys have these scanners they use on it whenever you’re on your way up the stairs. You either get cleared to go up the stairwell, or you get turned around. If you make a scene, then you get taken in for Reinforcement.
At this point I’m pretty much dodging the situation that happened today. Basically I talked to Allison. God, that was freakishly uncomfortable. I don’t exactly come across as the Queen of Feels, so it’s not as if I’m having regular heart-to-hearts, even with her. Once in a while, though, you’ve got to open up the old love chest and tell someone how you feel. As terribly, incredibly painful and awkward as that might be.
Anyway, I look at her as she heads my way, the hall framing her like a menacing portrait. Her aggressive footsteps make me seize up, and I just kinda go limp there, staring at her as she gets closer. Every second she’s getting larger and larger, like a storm you see rushing from the horizon. At that point I have a choice: let her walk by or say something.
I might as well be a ghost since she passes by like she can’t see me. Then her footsteps are fading. Dammit, Allison, couldn’t you have been the one to crack?
“Allison!” I shout, turning around as she does the same. We stand there looking at each other. It’s like two armies that have a cease-fire but could still start shooting at any second.
“Jackie,” she says, nodding her head. “Nice to see you.”
“Yeah, uh, hey. Nice to see you, too.”
“Is there something you wanted?”
I’m not going to apologize to her. “Look, I’m sorry, Allison.” Dammit.
She bows her head and takes a few steps my way. Then she takes a few more steps, and she’s close. Uncomfortably close. I’m not really a hugs and chocolates kind of girl. Well, rarely.
“I’m sorry, too,” she says, but she says it quietly. Then her voice goes low, like the storm’s suddenly passed. “You know I just don’t want to get into trouble with Security, right?”
“I get it, Allison. But, and I know this is going to bother you, I need to ask questions. That’s kinda my thing. I’ll try not to be too loud about it though, aaaand I promise I’ll be, you know, sensitive when you’re having a freak-out.”
She smiles as she stands up straight again. “I really was kind of freaking out, wasn’t I?”
“Kind of? I might as well have been in Reinforcement.”
“Don’t kid now,” she says, raising a finger. Still, she’s smiling, and that’s a good thing. “Okay, Jackie. I promise to try and understand your perspective, too. I mean, I don’t . . .” Her eyes roll up, like the answers are in heaven. “I don’t get why you have this need. It feels like it’ll just make trouble. But we’re not the same. And that’s okay. Maybe that’s just the way it is.”
“You got to know, though, Allison. All I want to know is how we got here. That’s why I ask about the past. We can’t know what we’re doing here unless we know something about what forced us here in the first place. Someone has to remember.”
“I know, Jackie.” She squeezes my shoulder, and I restrain myself from flinching. The feels, man. “Just know I’ve got your back. I don’t necessarily want to, because all I want to know is that food’s going to be there every Sevenths Day. But if it’s important to you, I’ll listen. I’ll support you.”