When Jericho finally awoke, there was light in the room. And he could see that he was alone. The Guardian had left. Though he was quite groggy, he knew where he was, but had no idea how long he had been here, or how long he had remained unconscious this last time. He had no memory of whether he had awoken since the last time or if he had ever spoken to the Guardian. Or if he might have admitted that he had been disobedient, just to make the noises and lights, and touches from the control stick come to a stop. As his mind began to clear he took in his surroundings. The dark dank dirty room he was in had no apparent openings in the walls or ceiling. The only thing remarkable at all was the metal grate in the center of the floor. Small, round, and rusted. He noticed a trail of darkness from under the control chair he occupied, as it ran into the grate, and surmised that at some point while unconscious he had urinated where he sat. As he realized this, he also realized that it had happened long enough ago, that his bottom was now cold from the dampness. His arms were still shackled behind him. It was silent. As he remembered all that had occurred to him in this room, it came back to him in bits and pieces. He could not imagine what could be next.
Had he confessed to disobedience, he wondered. That seemed to be the only reason that the Guardian might have left. It did not seem as though anything less would have stopped that interrogation. The Guardian certainly did not want to hear about how it had not been his fault. The Guardian had not seemed to listen to anything he had said, but had just continued to make the same statement.
“Admit your disobedience.” It had said, what seemed like hundreds of times. And each time in that same unfeeling, unemotional flat mechanical voice. That must be what happened, Jericho thought. I must have finally just given up and admitted it. Anything to get the pain to stop. Now, the question that came to him was, what next? Okay, so if he had admitted disobedience, that means that his punishment would be next. In the square. It could be in the next few minutes, or it could be in the next few days. He knew enough about the punishment for disobedience to know that the exact time of the execution of the punishment was always unknown to the one being punished, and this was thought to be a part of the punishment itself. The not knowing when. He hoped that Donavan was at least okay. Jericho knew that if he admitted disobedience, and Donovan was hurt, he may not survive the impending punishment. He knew the penalty for the fight would probably yield 10 or 15 lashes, but if Donovan was hurt, then it could be much worse than that. Much, much worse.
He swallowed, though his throat was dry. Parched, he thought. He wondered how long he had sat in the room alone. How long he had been asleep. How much longer before he at least had some idea of his fate. Somewhere inside he asked himself if he had it to do all over again, would he do anything different. If he had just stayed in line and not moved. If he had let Donovan be dealt with by the Guardians. If, he thought. Without hesitation he knew that he could not have just stood there. Regardless of the punishment, he would have protected Gabrielle, even if it meant death. He swallowed again, his throat scratchy. He may have begun to cry a bit, but he thought that as thirsty as he was, there may not be any tears left in him. He tried to adjust his position in the chair to make his back more comfortable. All of the touches from the control stick had made the muscles in his back, arms and legs ache. Even as he just sat there in the chair , he hurt. So tired. He hurt. He slept.
When he next came awake, he drifted into the sea of consciousness much easier this time. He did not feel like he had to fight his way to the surface, but simply came awake. As he opened his eyes it startled him. The Guardian stood right in front of him. He quickly tried to push back in the control chair, but remained securely bound. Instinctively he looked down to where the Guardian had held the control stick during his interrogation, but noticed instantly that the control stick was not extended. It was positioned safely away from him. His breath came rapidly, as he tried to relax just a bit, and felt the tenseness in his muscles release. He was not going to be touched, at least not at this moment. The room was still lit, and it was just him and the Guardian. It stood in front of him as before, and though there was no way to tell, he was certain that it was the same Guardian. They each looked exactly alike, and had no distinguishing features or insignia, but Jericho knew, somewhere deep inside, that this was the same Guardian that had unmercifully interrogated him. He felt a sense of nausea well up inside as he looked at the unmoving figure.
The Guardian stepped suddenly to the side, as it sensed that he was awake. Jericho jerked back, his eyes keenly aware of the location of the control stick. The Guardian grabbed his shoulder and reached behind him. Jericho desperately continued to fight to stay away from it, as he struggled with all of his might.
“Be calm.” The mechanical voice emitted from the Guardian. Be calm my ass, thought Jericho, as he still struggled to get away from it. Pain shot through his wrists where his hands were shackled behind his back. “Be calm.” Repeated the Guardian. “You are in no danger.” It said, and suddenly the shackles came free. Jericho still fought to get away, and was brought down by his own struggles, onto the cold dirty floor, as he landed harshly on his side. He scrabbled across the stone smelling of urine and mold and who knew what else, and kicked his legs to get away from the Guardian, as it remained motionless. Silence. Just his own breathing and his own heartbeat. He pulled himself into a sitting position, his back against the wall, and stared at the Guardian. The feeling began to rush back into his arms, and they began to tingle as if on fire, when suddenly the Guardian spoke.
“Be calm.” It said once again. “You are in no danger.” It repeated, and suddenly broke from its motionless stance and began to approach him. His struggles had left him exhausted after the interrogation ordeal, and though ever fiber of his being screamed for him to get away, Jericho had nothing left. He sat there. Tired and exhausted, against the wall, he waited. The Guardian approached, and it reached down its hand.
Jericho held his hands up in front of his eyes, as he stepped out onto the street. His eyes had become accustomed to the barely lit interior of the control center, and now he had to squint them. He sneezed, and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. As he blinked, and remembered his painful experiences with bright light during the interrogation, he just wanted to get home. He saw the Guardian as it stood at the building’s corner, and thought that he had had quite enough of them for now. He looked down, careful not to look directly at it, as he crossed the street that was mostly empty, and headed towards the building that contained his compartment. Any other time he might have been self conscious about his urine stained pants, but for now he was too tired to care. His father would still be asleep, and his sister still at the factory, but her shift would be over soon. He just wanted to clean up and then get to the meal building. It had been yesterday morning since he had last eaten, and he was starving. Literally starving, he thought, as he turned the next corner. And Gabrielle, he thought, she must be worried sick. He needed to be at the meal building when she got there so he could let her know that he was okay. The street was empty except for a single Guardian, but at least this one was far enough away that Jericho was not totally unnerved. Seeing Guardians on the street was a commonplace occurrence, nothing unusual. They constantly patrolled the entire village, the road, the factory, and the meal buildings. Guardians were as commonplace as the streets and buildings themselves. But since his recent ordeal, Jericho thought that maybe he was a little oversensitive to their existence. As he continued to walk home, the Guardian continued its patrol, as it followed Jericho. He began pick up his pace, but the Guardian’s speed remained the same. He did not quite run, but he moved as fast as he could without actually breaking into a trot, Jericho finally made it to his building’s entrance. Just as he stepped across the threshold, he turned to see the Guardian as it still came at the same rock solid pace. It appeared to not have noticed him at all, but Jericho wasn’t so sure. He turned and ran up the ste
ps.
Chapter 7
Immortal Page 6