He nods, but there is disappointment in his eyes.
I step out and carefully close the door behind me, taking the time to calm myself before turning to face Mother.
CHAPTER FOUR
We are all Mother’s children. It is a privilege to show her our ultimate obedience to her laws.
—ENGRAVED ON A PILLAR IN THE SQUARE, SECTOR TWO
Mother stands before me, or rather her hologram does. I can see now what I hadn’t been able to see from the cell: the wavy lines of the projection and the concrete wall behind her semitransparent body. She hadn’t risked a walk by the turrets after all. This should make me feel better, but it doesn’t.
She has eyes only for me. And those eyes are filled with a rage I’ve never seen before.
“Just what do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes bore into mine, as if she can see all my secrets. Her voice is tinny and echoes around the room.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I struggle to keep my eyes on hers and not squirm under the scrutiny of her stare.
“Why are you treating his injuries? You are supposed to be getting information.”
“I am, Mother. B-but he was very sick. He couldn’t answer. Besides, I needed to regain his confidence. He didn’t trust me after the Guards beat him.”
She only asks, “What did he tell you?”
Obviously that bit of information didn’t have the effect I’d hoped for and again I struggle to keep my eyes focused on hers. I’m about to smudge the truth and it will be disastrous if she senses I’m lying. She’ll never forgive me. Again I question why I’m even helping him, but I can’t answer myself.
“Only that he came through one of the emergency exits.”
She narrows her eyes and then turns her head. Unable to stop myself, I follow her gaze. She’s focused on Gavin, who glares at her.
“Does he remember how to get there?” she asks. Her eyes are blank now. None of the anger I’d seen previously is visible. No emotions are. It’s worse than if she was angry.
I swallow quickly, which is almost impossible, because my mouth has turned to sand. “No,” I finally manage to say. “He said everything was a blur after his friend set off the DNA camera.” I have no idea if he does or not, but any other answer puts him at risk.
“Turret,” she corrects me. “The other one set off a turret.” She continues to study Gavin. “Is that all you’ve gotten from him?”
“Yes. He’s not very lucid between his infection and the medicines I had to give him.”
Mother purses her lips. “It is of the utmost urgency we get answers from him. There comes a point where the danger he presents outweighs the import of his answers. If he was able to get in, others may do the same. Besides, I don’t want my one and only daughter hurt.” She smiles at me and I relax. “Surface Dwellers are manipulative, and you are so naïve.” She waves me off, her attention focused back on Gavin. “Your Therapist is waiting for you.”
I hurry away, breathing a quick sigh of relief, but I don’t even dare look at Gavin as I leave. I just have to hope Mother doesn’t take it upon herself to start where I left off.
* * *
Guards flank me as I make my way toward Dr. Friar’s office in Sector Six—the Medical Sector. If I wasn’t with my Guards, I’d stop and chitchat with several of the shopkeepers who are scattered around in organized chaos in Sector Two along the Bazaar, or the Square.
Like all the other Sectors, Sector Two is in its own building, connected to the other Sectors by glass tube hallways. Sector Two itself is the largest of our Sectors, with the Square being its largest part. Although it’s only one floor, it’s several stories tall. The domed ceiling and three of the walls are entirely made of glass so the ocean is visible at all times—just like in my gardens. Mother says the Square was designed to replicate what the Surface city streets used to look like before the War, complete with alleys and dead ends. While it looks like there’s no pattern to any of it, Mother has arranged the shops to make it easier for people to get from one side to the other and get what they require quickly. There are also areas next to trees and the central fountain for recreation, like picnics or birthday parties and such.
When not working, Citizens are allowed to do whatever they wish—as long as they don’t violate the law. The Enforcers make sure of that. I know from Mother’s teaching that there are only two-dozen Enforcers to police the two thousand Citizens, but they have the eerie ability to appear at a moment’s notice, so they seem to be everywhere. Even as the Daughter of the People, I can’t be sure how many are watching me now.
Today the Square seems busier than usual, which makes sense since tomorrow is Festival, the day we celebrate the city’s founding. The Citizens are already preparing. I want to join them, but sadly, my Guards are accompanying me and I have no time for niceties. I continue through the Square without making eye contact with anyone, but despite that, the Citizens bow as I pass.
Just past the sushi bar, I turn right and walk through the tubular glass walkway that leads to the reception area of the Medical Sector.
I’ve always thought Dr. Friar’s receptionist is one of our prettier women. Even though all Citizens have blond hair and blue eyes, there is something exceptional about her—though not as exceptional as Mother, of course. I smile my thanks as she waves me through to Dr. Friar’s office.
I pause at his door and wonder, as I always do, why he chooses to have his office in a room without any windows. Surely, if he wanted it, he could just ask Mother. Given his position, she’d grant him anything he wanted.
Dr. Friar is waiting for me with his customary smile: one that both soothes and makes my hackles rise. I’m never sure why I have such strong, yet opposing, feelings about him. Today, however, I notice his teeth are stained a rust color. I know it’s only something he ate, but it gives me an uncomfortable feeling. He’s wearing his normal attire of a dove gray business suit with a bright white button-down shirt and maroon tie, his thinning blond hair smoothed back. His watery blue eyes are surrounded by thin lines, as is his thin mouth, probably because he smiles so much.
He’s sitting behind his rosewood, double pedestal desk, which has a glass piece over the top of the desk surface. It always looks precisely the same—a stapler, pen holder, intercom telephone, Slate, and dark brown leather blotter placed just perfectly. His clasped hands rest on the blotter.
“Well, now, Evelyn, are you prepared for our session today?” He gestures for me to sit.
I sit in the leather wingback chair in front of his desk. “Yes. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.”
Dr. Friar’s smile widens. He’s obviously pleased with me. “Very good. Do you know why Mother has asked for you to visit today?”
“No.”
He nods as if this is what he’s expecting, then stands and goes to a cabinet on the sidewall. It’s painted to resemble the weathered wood of the room’s walls, making it appear as if it’s only a set of built-in bookshelves instead of a freestanding cabinet. He opens a drawer and pulls a metal box from it before returning to sit on the corner of the desk.
“Mother tells me you’ve been tending to the Surface Dweller,” he says.
I eye the box. It is familiar to me, but I can’t quite place it. “Yes. He was quite sick.”
“And did you not think of the consequences?” He taps the box.
I move my eyes to meet his and then adjust them so I focus on the wall behind him. It’s impolite to stare a man in the eyes. “Consequences?”
His smile widens again, as if he knew that’s what I was going to answer. “You said yourself he’s sick. He could give you something. Do you not remember about the epidemic from your studies?”
“Oh.” My gaze travels back to the box, where Dr. Friar caresses the case as if it’s his pet.
“Besides, he’s only a Surface Dweller. Not worth wasting our precious resources on, or being waited on by the Daughter of the People. On Festival’s Eve of all days.”
This time I don’t say
anything.
“What have you learned from him?” he prompts.
I take a deep steadying breath and play with the hem of my skirt. “Just that he entered through one of the emergency exits.”
“Did he tell you why he came?” He strokes the box and I swallow. Little rivulets of sweat slide down my back to pool at the base of my spine, though I don’t know why I should feel so uneasy.
“He said he stumbled upon a cave when he took refuge from the rain.”
There’s a shadow crawling over the box and I have no idea where it came from. I take a quick glance around the room, but there’s nothing I can see that’s causing it.
“I see.” Dr. Friar’s voice stays that happy, cheerful tone that should put me at ease, but it only makes the sweat all over my body turn to tiny little ice cubes. “And what did he say his designation was?”
I can’t stop staring at the box. Whatever’s in there, I don’t want to know what it is. I don’t even want to be in the same room with it. It makes my skin crawl. “N-no. H-he doesn’t have one.” I wet my lips, and Dr. Friar purses his. The move is so like Mother’s when she’s angry that it makes spiders of fear skitter along my nerves.
“None?” He looks disappointed. “Surely he must do something to bring money for his family?”
“He said they don’t get money from the Governess.”
Dr. Friar leans forward. “He did, did he?” He studies me carefully, his eyes taking a full journey from my face to my feet. He stops once on my chest, making me want to cross my arms, before continuing the journey. When he’s finished, he opens the box. Inside, nestled in black velvet, is an old-fashioned syringe.
“You’ll need to take your medicine so you don’t get sick, Evelyn. We can’t have the Daughter of the People getting sick, can we?”
A memory of pain comes to mind and I cringe away from it. “No. I feel fine. I don’t need that.”
He snaps his fingers and my Guards step next to my seat. The room feels like it’s shrinking around me. The walls I’d just admired feel like they’re going to crush me at any minute.
Dr. Friar sprays a little stream out of the needle of the syringe. The air starts to smell like alcohol and a mixture of familiar and terrorizing scents I can’t place, but make my heart go wild and my breath catch.
“Don’t struggle, Evelyn. This will only hurt for a minute. You’ll never remember it.”
“No, please, no,” I whisper as fear clogs my throat.
He gestures again and two of the Guards take my arms, holding me in place. I struggle, knowing I’m not stronger than them. I can’t pull away. The Guards are chosen for their strength and fear has apparently robbed my own muscles of theirs. I can’t escape. No matter what I do, I’m trapped in the leather chair.
Dr. Friar advances on me as I struggle. Whimpers come from my mouth as he steps next to me. His breath warms my neck.
The needle slides into the skin of my neck, just behind my ear. I cry out as my whole body seizes. The pain is excruciating, as if they are holding a lit match to my skin. Nerves twitch all over; it feels like insects are crawling over me—insects that are made of fire and burrow into my skin—and I’m trying to shake them off. Besides the tremors, I’m frozen in place. Eventually the pain is too much and, when it comes, the darkness is a blessing.
But it doesn’t last long.
Soon I’m wide awake. Voices swim in and out as if I’m underwater. One voice in particular is familiar, yet not.
“Evelyn,” it says, “why have you decided to help the Surface Dweller?”
I don’t want to answer, but it’s as if my body has stopped listening to my brain. “I was drawn to him.” My voice sounds strange. It’s slow and slurred.
“No, Evelyn, you were repulsed by him.”
“Yes. I was repulsed by him.”
“You won’t try to help him in the future.”
“No. I won’t help him.”
“He deserves his fate for breaking our laws.”
“Yes. He deserves it.”
“After everything Mother has done for you, you should be more grateful for her generosity and obey her without question.”
“Obey without question.”
The voice stops waiting for me to respond.
Surface Dwellers are manipulative and dangerous. Nothing more than heathens who’d just as soon kill you as look at you.
He’s the worst of them all.
Why am I protecting him? He means nothing to me.
He would not do the same had our roles been reversed.
He is not my friend. I’m only here for answers.
His kind is the reason for the fall of man and our exile to the ocean.
I will share all of my knowledge with Dr. Friar and Mother. Why would I not want to? They are only trying to protect me.
Surface Dwellers are manipulative and dangerous. Nothing more than heathens who’d just as soon kill you as look at you.
He’s the worst of them all.
Why am I protecting him? He means nothing to me.
He would not do the same had our roles been reversed.
He is not my friend. I’m only here for answers.
His kind is the reason for the fall of man and our exile to the ocean.
I will share all of my knowledge with Dr. Friar and Mother. Why would I not want to? They are only trying to protect me.
After some time, the voice says, “Very good, Evelyn. Time to wake up.”
“Very good, Evelyn. Time to wake up,” I repeat as another sharp pain stings my arm. Then darkness bleeds in.
CHAPTER FIVE
Idle hands lead to an idle mind. Therefore all Citizens will be given designations to benefit their city more effectively.
—CITIZEN’S SOCIAL CODE, VOLUME V
My life is just about perfect.
Every morning Mother has the Maids wake me at precisely ten. Then it’s time for a light breakfast followed by a mandatory visit with my Therapist. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.
After, I am free to do as I wish until it’s time to perform one of the duties Mother has requested of me.
After the delightful talk with Dr. Friar about my flowers, Mother instructs me to go back to the Detainment Center. I’d rather play my violin. The soft, dulcet tones are the perfect balm to my soul. For some reason, each and every one of my muscles and joints hurt. As does my throat. Maybe Mother was right and I’m coming down with the flu. It’s a good thing she made me take my medicine.
But she wants more answers from Gavin. Although … I’m not sure what I am to say to him. Or what to ask. I do not wish to be near him. He’s a contemptible Surface Dweller. Why had I ever thought to protect him? Had our roles been reversed he would not have done the same for me.
No answers come to me, but I follow my orders. The sooner I get answers, the sooner I get back to the way things are supposed to be.
Two of my Guards lead the way while the third walks behind me. For this, I am grateful. The stairs from Sector Two are slippery and if not for the younger Guard behind me, I would have smacked my face on the dirty concrete more than once. Not to mention, it is dark and dank in the tunnels. Dirty water runs down the walls. It smells like rotting vegetation. I hold my handkerchief in front of my nose. The lavender scent blocks the other smells.
When I enter the room where Gavin waits in his clear glass cell, I am hesitant. I do not wish to see him. I must continue my cross-stitching after practicing my violin. There is much to prepare for—Mother has told me I will meet another Suitor tonight. One she has handpicked. If he is a good match, then we will be Coupled. This pleases me immensely.
The Guards let me in, and Gavin smiles when he sees me. I don’t smile back. I don’t even want to be here.
His smile falters. “Is something wrong?”
“My life is just about perfect.” My voice is rough and scratchy like I accidentally drank seawater instead of fresh.
He knits his brow together. “O-kay, but t
hat’s not really what I meant.”
“I am not your friend. I am here for answers,” I say shortly, and begin to examine his shoulder. I don’t know how I could ever think he was attractive. He’s dirty and grungy. The hair starting to grow on his face gives him a wicked, shadowed look.
Maybe if he took a bath, I think.
He narrows his eyes and steps closer. I back up. I do not wish to stand so close to him. He does not smell good at all. I lift my handkerchief up to my nose.
He is not my friend. I am only here for answers.
“How are you?” He reaches a hand out, presumably to touch me.
I step away so his hand falls short. “Don’t touch me.”
“Why?”
I meet his eyes once before letting them flit away. “Why what, Mr. Hunter?”
“Mister? You were calling me Gavin last time.”
My fingers pleat the skirt of my dress. “It was highly inappropriate. I apologize for my forwardness.”
“Something is wrong.” There is a hint of frustration and worry in his tone. “Did your mother threaten you?”
“Certainly not.” I finally meet his eyes again and notice they are a beautiful gray. Almost silver in this light. What an unusual color. I didn’t even know eyes could be that color. They remind me of the charm around my neck.
“Then what’s going on?” he asks, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I force myself to focus on something else—anything that isn’t his eyes. It is harder than I would have thought. “I am only here for answers.”
Gavin shakes his head. “Not like this. Something’s wrong with you.”
I settle for hands. Hands aren’t pretty. They’re functional. “My life is just about perfect.”
He paces the room. “Yes, yes, you just said…” He trails off and then spins toward me. “Wait. Why did you say that again?”
I raise an eyebrow. “Because it is the truth.”
His eyes narrow and he comes back over, walking a circle around me. My eyes follow him. I’m not sure if it’s to make sure he doesn’t do anything, or for some other reason. “There’s something not right here. Where did you go? Where have you been? It’s been forever. The Guards have changed twice.”
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