Ten Days

by Olivia Mayfield

  “The last time I checked,” I said, my voice as icy as I could make it, “you weren’t my parent, nor were you my instructor. Maybe you should worry more about your own life rather than focusing on mine.”

  I couldn’t believe how angry I felt about this, and yet I wouldn’t back down now. So much had changed in my life, and I would not go back to the way things used to be—with Tessa being the self-proclaimed expert in all things societal and rubbing that in on every possible occasion.

  I never used to be this bitter about it though until she’d started chastising me so harshly. And I’d never really noticed how often she was chastising me until I’d started getting my own mind and opinion on things.

  She crossed her arms. “I don’t even know what to say to you anymore.”

  “You’re not the only one.” I got up, my stomach sour, my body shaking with suppressed anger and frustration and guilt and loneliness and so many more emotions I couldn’t put a label on.

  “I’m going to go now. This conversation is ridiculous, and I refuse to take part in it anymore. All praise the Machine.” She paused, obviously waiting for me to echo it back.

  I stared at her, keeping my face flat in spite of the sting of tears in my eyes, refusing to give her even that one concession. Tessa wouldn’t see my emotions anymore.

  With a flare of her nostrils, she ended contact.

  I released the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. This was so bad, and my gut warned me with strong cramps that trusting her with my secret was a mistake.

  All I could do was hope this didn’t backfire on me.

  Chapter 15

  “The best way to make our society survive and thrive is through watchful attentiveness. Take interest in the lectures being offered. Share ideas you’ve heard. We all must observe each other, learn from each other. In these ways, we will continue to be amazed at how we grow.” ~ The Book of the Machine

  For a good half hour, I sat on my chair, ignoring flashing messages, not wanting to be disturbed from my spiraling thoughts. I couldn’t get Tessa out of my mind. Not being able to see her face left it to me to fill in the blanks. I’d heard frustration, anger in her voice. And I’d heard something else too.

  Disdain.

  She hadn’t been able to hide it, that emotion that poured through and punctuated every sentence. Tessa had grown to dislike me. Was this her fault for staying the same, or my fault for changing?

  I drew in a heavy sigh, exhaling slowly in a futile attempt to slow my racing heart. In my mind I could still see the two of us, changing and evolving through the years. Yeah, we’d always been a little dissimilar. But that space had never been filled with negativity. We just understood that we approached things differently.

  It appeared I’d crossed a line with her, one I’d never be able to undo. And I wasn’t really sure I wanted to.

  Huffing out a sharp breath, I called Sirama. She didn’t answer, so I left a message. “Hi. It’s me. I’m—I really need to talk to you, if you have the time.” I tried to keep my voice level, my words smooth, but they cracked and broke in spots I couldn’t control. “Please call me back when you get a chance. And I hope all is okay with you,” I added then hung up, swallowing back my panicked swell of emotion.

  My muscles were suddenly tense, tight. I needed to get out of here, to run and run until I couldn’t squeeze another breath out of my lungs. This would continue to plague me unless I shook it off.

  I moved toward the door when a staticky crackle came onto my screen. The sound startled me into place and I turned around, perplexed.

  “Cally,” a voice said and then an image appeared of an older man with steely pale eyes, his hair a thick, greasy black and slicked back from his face. “Please have a seat. Though I don’t quite understand why you’re out of your chair in the first place.”

  How had someone broken through my screen when I hadn’t even answered?

  He must have seen the confusion on my face. “I’m Zek. I’m on the Committee.” The word echoed in the room, fell on me.

  My heart slammed against my ribs. I forced myself to walk back to my chair, slowly dropping down into it. With lungs squeezed far too tightly, I sucked in breaths of air, willing my body to stay strong, confident. Knowing that with every bit of my being I just wanted to run and hide.

  “What is going on?” I asked, hating the unsteady waver in my voice.

  He paused, stared at me. Taking my measure. The look in his eyes showed he found me wanting. “Please allow me to be blunt. You have been accused of inappropriate, uncivilized behavior. As I’m sure you’ve heard, we’ve been watching you for a while, and the reports we’re getting are disturbing.”

  I clenched my jaw. “What am I being accused of?” I asked, praying my words didn’t come across as harsh as they seemed to.

  He sniffed, looking down at some screen that apparently held all the damning evidence against me. “Allow me to illuminate you, then. Unsuitable conduct with another person. Propagation of absurd and wild ideas. Encouragement of disrespect toward the Machine—”

  “What?” I interjected. “What are you talking about?” I could barely hear past the frightful rushing in my ears, so I knew my voice was far too loud.

  He raised an eyebrow. “I am not amused by your willful ignorance of your wrongdoings. But fine. I’ll play along. You have not respected others’ reverence for the Machine and at times have not praised it when appropriate, such as signing off on calls.”

  I couldn’t stop the heated flush that erupted across my skin. The only time I could think of when I willfully hadn’t said “All praise the Machine” was when I’d ended that call with Tessa. She must have told the Committee about it.

  How could she?

  It took every bit of focus I had to turn my attention back to Zek. “I acknowledge nothing in what you say and insist on being able to present my side of the situation to the Committee.” I remembered that when Kuno had said he was threatened with Homelessness, the Committee had allowed him to make a presentation. Perhaps he could help me come up with something in my defense.

  Zek gave a small, surprised gasp at my assertion. Then he quickly regained composure as he said, “That can be discussed at a forthcoming date. My communication today is to inform you that you are hereby being served with an official admonition. Your lack of respect for the Machine and our society’s directives has gone on for far too long and is overdue to be addressed. Consider this your notice. You will be contacted regarding a hearing in the near future.”

  For a moment I couldn’t speak. Frightening images whirled through my mind of my future. What was going to happen to me? I clenched my hands into fists, drew in slow breaths, steadying myself as best as possible. “Your notice is received.”

  “All praise the Machine,” Zek said, waiting with a pregnant pause.

  “All praise the Machine,” I replied, hating myself in that moment for being a hypocrite. I was burning up with my anger for the Machine, for society and all it represented, but I couldn’t do anything about it.

  Zek hung up.

  I stared blankly at the floor for a long time. I was unsure of how to proceed. I needed to talk to Kuno. I needed to feel Marshal wrap his strong arms around me. I ached to cry and release all of this unwanted fear and pain.

  A call beeped through on my screen. I glanced up and saw it was Sirama, returning my call.

  Blinking back the rush of emotion, I straightened my face as best as possible and answered. “Hi,” I told her. “Is it possible we can talk—” I couldn’t even finish my sentence without a small sob breaking out of me.

  Her eyes grew large with concern. “Cally, what’s wrong?”

  Not something I wanted to admit over the screen, but what difference would it make now? “I’ve just been served with a warning from the Committee. Tessa ran to them about stuff I told her in secrecy.”

  How the Committee must have praised her for being so honest and forthcoming. Lauded her for such a brave action
. It made me ill. My head and heart lurched.

  “Oh, Cally.” Her words came out on a small sigh, filled with sadness. “I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how scared you must be right now.” She paused. “Have you talked to Hanna about it?”

  Oh, wow. In all my anger and frustration with Tessa, I’d completely forgotten that my mother probably knew about this, too. And yet she’d let me be surprised with the news. My stomach twisted in response to the realization. Obviously she really had no intention of talking to me ever again.

  “She didn’t even bother to warn me,” I finally said, my voice surprisingly flat. “What could I possibly have to say to her now?”

  “Before you jump to conclusions, you should talk to them. Both of them. But take some time to calm down first.” Sirama’s words, normally soothing, didn’t chip away at the fury welling inside me. “Anger is a fire, consuming all in its wake.”

  I was angry, all right. And I burned to confront my traitorous friend. “I’ll talk to Tessa,” I told her. “And to Hanna too. I promise you that.”

  “Cally—”

  “I’m fine,” I said hotly. “It’s all fine, right? Just like you’ve always told me.”

  She winced, and I felt a twinge of guilt at taking my anger out on her.

  “Sorry,” I continued, a little contrite about my sharp words. “I’m just upset. I appreciate you listening to me.”

  “Be careful,” Sirama replied. I couldn’t read her tone, but I was sure there was some disappointment in there. “Please.”

  I nodded, and we said goodbye. By the time I hung up, I’d filled my heart with stone; Tessa and my mother wouldn’t hurt me anymore.

  Nothing could stop me from moving through the door and walking with deadly determination down the dim tunnel toward Tessa’s pod. It had been a long, long time since I’d visited her, but I still remembered the way.

  To ground myself in reality, in the moment, I opened myself up to my senses, letting them feel everything as strongly as possible. There was a slight soft whoosh as artificial air swooped past me. The brown walls were smooth beneath my fingers. My feet padded slowly but with purpose across the floor.

  I could not believe she’d done this to me.

  And I didn’t think I could ever forgive her for it.

  After a good half hour, I finally reached her pod and stopped to draw several long breaths before knocking on her door.

  She opened it, jumping in her chair in surprise. “What are you doing here?”

  I shoved past her and slammed the door shut behind me. Then I turned to her, taking in her bland appearance, the drab tunic and generic pod around us.

  “I can’t believe you called the Committee,” I said.

  She stared at me and opened her mouth to speak.

  “Don’t even bother trying to deny it,” I cut her off. I could read her face so easily, knew that was exactly what she was going to do. Lie to me.

  Tessa collapsed back into her chair, giving a tired sigh. “You look so strange,” she said, eyeing my body. There was no emotion in her eyes, her voice. “You used to look more like me. Now you’ve gotten…different.”

  I pressed closer to her, standing and staring down at her. “I’ve been given an official warning. Now I have to have a hearing. And if I’m deemed unfit for society…” I didn’t even have to finish. Tessa knew.

  Swallowing, she leaned back away from me and my anger, retreating within herself. Now that we were face to face, she no longer looked like she was in control. Like she was all-important and knowing. “Machine, please bring another chair,” she said.

  It whirled out of the wall, coming to a stop right behind my legs.

  I ignored it.

  “You’re making me uncomfortable,” she continued. “I want you to leave. I’d rather talk over the screen.”

  “Too bad,” I said. When I started feeling tears burn my eyes, I turned away, giving her the cold shoulder, trying to pull myself back together. How was this really happening to me? “I just came to tell you that I don’t ever want to see you again. We are no longer friends.”

  She exhaled. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

  Though I wasn’t surprised by her words, I was still hurt, a stinging discomfort wrapping around my heart. So much for not letting her cause me any more pain.

  “Yes, I called the Committee,” she admitted, her words barely over a whisper. “I did so because I think you need to be saved from yourself. You’re getting out of control, Cally, and someone needs to stop it from happening.”

  I gave a sharp laugh. “Seriously? You do realize that all this is going to do is result in me being expelled from the community, right?” I turned back to her, to her eyes, rich with conflicting emotions. “You’ve given them just more bits of information to use against me.”

  She raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you think you’re being a little paranoid?”

  “No. I think I’m not being paranoid enough.” I crossed my arms, wishing I hadn’t come here, regretting my impulsiveness. I didn’t want to see Tessa anymore. The sight of her sitting listlessly in the chair, looking like Balan and my mother and every other lazy, self-indulgent society member made me ill.

  I couldn’t be like that. And I didn’t want to.

  Tessa stared at me, her eyes softening into an expression of pity I hadn’t expected. “Cally, you’re so far gone that you don’t even realize what’s real.”

  Swallowing, I shook my head. “No, I’m just now learning what’s real and what’s not.” I moved toward the door, all the anger sapped out of me. What was the point? She wasn’t open to what I had to say. She believed I was deranged, in need of serious help. It was useless to try to talk to her. “Goodbye, Tessa.”

  I didn’t wait for her reply, just left and headed back down the tunnel. Here I could let those disappointed tears slide down my cheeks unchecked. Was this all worth it?

  A mental image of grass and sunshine and sky came right to mind. Then of me and Marshal, our bodies tangled impossibly close. Yes. It was. Crazy or no, I knew what I craved, who I really was. I wasn’t going to fit into this society. Probably was never really meant to anyway. Denying myself and trying to pretend I was someone I wasn’t had been smothering the life out of me.

  But no longer.

  I would be brave like Kuno, seeking the truth in the stars. Explore my fears and needs like Marshal. I wouldn’t settle for anything less than everything.

  The Committee wouldn’t make me afraid of Homelessness. I’d seen a bed in that abandoned building. Someone was living there. Someone had survived it and went on to make the best of the situation.

  Why couldn’t I?

  There was a strange rush of excitement tingling my limbs, shoving away all sadness from my argument with Tessa and the Committee and my mother and the instructor and everyone else who’d insisted I conform—or else.

  Why couldn’t I just be me?

  There was only one other person I wanted to share this newfound emotion with. I found myself moving toward his pod, overcome by the urge to speak to him. See him. Maybe even kiss him again. Let myself get captured in this new, vivid reality.

  Of course, thoughts about my brother brought the lightness down a bit. It was almost certain they’d never let him live by or with me now. But I could talk to Marshal and Kuno and see what else could be done. I wouldn’t give up on that.

  It took me a while to get there, but my feet wouldn’t stop until I reached Marshal’s door. I rapped quickly on it, unable to control the surge of sentiment when I saw him open it and peer down at me.

  He smiled, but his eyes squinted and the elation fell from his face as he took in my tear-streaked cheeks. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I am now,” I whispered, falling into his arms and breathing in the scent that was undeniably, unmistakably him.

  He closed the door and wrapped me up tightly, pressing his lips to my hair. “I missed you.”

  “Marshal,” I said, pulling back to look at him. So much t
o tell him. The words clogged up in my throat and I wasn’t sure how to start.

  “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, stroking my hair.

  “I—I’ve been issued an official warning from the Committee. Hearing to be determined.” I made myself look him in the eyes, suddenly needing to see the truth. “I don’t know how it’s going to end, but it could be bad. Are you…are you still in this with me? Because I understand if you—”

  He stopped my words by pressing his mouth to mine. I opened for him, my body arching toward his, craving that intimate connection. Minutes went by as we devoured each other, and I took his offered strength and support. His arms wrapped around me, and my body grew warm, overly sensitive.

  With a chuckle he finally pulled away. His eyes were hooded as he peered down at me. “Does that answer your question?”

  I smiled. “I suppose so. That only leaves one question left to be asked.”

  “Which is?”

  “Tomorrow I’m going back to the surface. I want to find that Homeless person and learn more of the truth. Ask her what Shakespeare is and how she survived her exile. And I want to know if you’ll come with me.”

  Chapter 16

  Eight Days

  “Many citizens have been curious about why we create and distribute a printed copy of The Book of the Machine, given the prevalence of technological advances the Machine has afforded us. In short, it’s our society’s one concession to the traditions of our ancestors. Texts of many genres and lengths can be found digitally stored in the Machine’s colossal database, but The Book of the Machine is a treasured item given to every person upon birth and acceptance into our culture. It’s a rich part of our heritage, one we plan to continue.” ~ The Book of the Machine