The Society Page 8

  “El?”

  He stops in his monologue, which I stopped processing several doors back. “Yes?”

  “Pretend I’m from the Society and explain to me what these words mean.”

  El chuckles. “Sorry. Most of you kids are too busy demanding to go back, you don’t even care which door is which.”

  “How many?”

  “Hmm? How many what?”

  I grip the handles of the chair as a wave of weakness washes over me. “How many kids?” My voice breaks, and he must think I’m about to cry again, because he stops the chair and walks around to crouch in front of me.

  “I know this is a lot to process.” He reaches out to touch my hand, but I flinch and he sits back on his heels. “Since I’ve been working with them, so about a year, we’ve saved ten.”

  “You...were one of us?”

  He shakes his head. “Nope. Born and raised a rebel.” His mouth twitches in a wry smile and he gestures around us. “Lived here all my life. Kara’s my distant cousin, Mom’s gone, but Dad still lives and works up on the Hill.” At my puzzled glance, he grins and stands up. “You’ll hear all about that later.” He returns to his position behind the chair and it rolls forward. “Okay, so. Storerooms hold anything that’s not food, weapons, or clothing, basically. Furniture, cleaning supplies, all that stuff. Dressing rooms, there’s one for men and one for women, they’re pretty much just filled up with racks of clothes. Most of it’s pretty worn out after twenty years, but it keeps us warm. Armories, that’s where we keep weapons.”

  “Weapons?”

  “Yeah, not that we use them much. Guns and knives aren’t much use against HAs, especially now with the new self-repair features. You pretty much gotta unload a whole magazine in one if you want to do any damage. Plus, we’re limited in our ability to make more bullets, so we save them for the times they’re really needed.”

  I let the unfamiliar words slide. “What are libraries?”

  “Books. Information.”

  “Why do you need whole rooms for books? Are your computers that large?”

  He chuckles again. This man laughs more in a few moments than I’ve ever heard anyone else laugh in a month. “There’s information out there that’s never made it onto the ‘net. Anyway, they can’t track us over reading a book like they can if we access the ‘net.”

  I think back to a few days ago, when I sat in the headmistress’s office, surrounded by ancient tomes. I know what paper books are, I’ve seen them in pictures and movies. I’ve never read one. Everything the Society thinks we need to know is in the school systems and the small part of the ‘net we’re allowed to access.

  “Once you get settled, I’ll show you.” We pass by another set of doors, after which the hall ends in a flat wall and a 90-degree turn to the right. These two are labeled as nurseries. “This is where the babies and toddlers stay.”

  Twisting, I try to look up at him. “There’re children here? Is that safe?”

  He shrugs, and pain in my neck forces me to look forward again as he pushes the chair around the corner. “None of our life is safe, Alyss. That doesn’t mean we’re going to stop living, and children are part of life.”

  “Do you have children?”

  Once again he laughs. “How old do you think I am?”

  Stung, I cross my arms in irritation. “How would I know? I’ve never met a human male before.”

  He’s silent for so long I begin to wonder what I’ve said wrong. This hallway has fewer doors. He slows the chair to a stop in front of one that is labeled “bathroom.” “I’m not even twenty. I won’t be having children for years yet, if ever.” He steps around the chair and pushes the door open to reveal a large room covered in white tile, lit only by windows near the ceiling. With his foot, he flicks down a little lever that props the door open, then he pushes the chair through. Once we enter the room, I can see a line of sinks to my right. Half of the left wall is lined with metal stalls, while the other has tiled alcoves closed by curtains. The hiss of water sounds from the furthest alcove, and wisps of steam emanate from it. A line of wooden benches stands down the middle of the room.

  El pushes the chair next to the benches, then reaches down to push the levers and I feel the wheels lock. “Well, here you go. Think you can manage a shower and change of clothes? Kara figured we’d let you wash off all the blood before you have to meet anyone.”

  “I...yeah.” I push my hands down on the chair arms and stand.

  “Great.” El points to a pile of folded clothing on the bench. I only have an instant to notice the vivid blue and brown hues of the fabric before El’s voice draws my gaze back to his face. “I’ll be back in a few minutes, then.” He turns to leave.

  Another wave of weakness washes over me, and I gasp. “El...I…”

  “Hey!” He jumps forward as my knees buckle, and wraps his arms around me. “Whoa. I told you, you gotta tell us if something’s wrong.” He carefully lowers me to the bench, then sits next to me. “No implants, remember?”

  “I’m sorry...it’s just…”

  His hand touches my shoulder, and he doesn’t flinch away from the blood encrusted there. “It’s okay. Take your time. There’s no rush. You’ve got all the time in the world to adjust.”

  My breath catches in my throat as I turn to look at him. “What about the bells? Schedules?”

  “We don’t have those here. Well, except for the little kids who have to go to school, and the adults who need to know when to show up for work. But other than that… Alyss, you’re free here.” his eyes search my face. “Truly.” He smiles gently, and for some reason I can’t comprehend, I feel heat rush to my face. “The rebellion is all about saving and preserving human life. As long as you don’t do anything to hurt anyone else, and you do what you can to help us, you’re free to live your life as you wish. To be whoever you wish.”

  The familiarity of that phrase strikes me, and I shudder. “The Society says the same thing.”

  El shrugs and jumps up. “The Society is made up of machines. It’s not quite the same thing.” He extends a hand and helps me to my feet, then scoops up the clothing with his other hand. “Here. Come on.” He leads me over to an alcove and pulls the curtain aside. Inside, I can see two separate chambers with a second curtain in between. One has a short, tiled bench on either side, the other is so dark I can barely see the showerhead extending from the wall. El sets the clothing on one of the benches, then steps back once I’ve got a steadying hand on the tile wall. “Alright, you good?” At my nod, the grin resurfaces. “Great. I’ll be back.” With a wave, he is gone, the door swinging shut behind him with a clang.

  Chapter 7

  The water here doesn’t get nearly as hot as it does at the Society. It’s barely hot enough to create steam. The water pressure little more than a trickle, unlike the powerful spray of droplets I’m used to. I rush through the shower, as much as I can rush while having to take frequent breaks to lean against the wall and catch my breath. Some of the paralytic must still be in my blood, or perhaps it’s the lack of food. Whatever the cause, I’m weaker than I can ever remember being. Except for the last few hours, anyway.

  After a moment, I hear a squeak at the same instant the water pressure in my alcove increases, as does the heat. I gasp and turn the knob to make it cooler as I hear a curtain slide aside, and someone walks around in the main part of the bathroom.

  I’m used to zero privacy, but this is different somehow. Cameras and microphones in every wall are less immediate than having a stranger’s heavy footsteps go right past the spot where I stand, with only a couple sheets of flimsy curtain separating us. Being watched by androids I know (if not ever fully trust) wasn’t the same as being weak, injured, and alone in a strange place with a person I’ve never seen.

  As the person’s steps pass my alcove and recede, then the door slams open, I slump against the wall and take a deep breath. Shaking my head at my own ridiculousness, I rinse the rest of the blood from my neck and should
ers, then use the soap in the dispenser on the wall to wash away any remaining traces of the Society from my skin.

  Feeling a little as if I’ve been reborn into this new community, I turn the water off and step into the outer space, shivering as the cooler air encompasses me. I grimace as I realize I haven’t been left a towel, only the clothing.

  Still fighting the light-headed sensation that caused my near-collapse, I lower myself to the bench...and nearly jump out of my skin when my legs encounter the piercing coldness of non-heated tile.

  I’ve taken so much for granted. All those little luxuries the Society provided, the ones I never noticed because I’d never known different...they don’t exist here. Things like consistent water pressure and heated seats and floors are probably foreign concepts to these people. Their lights are dimmer, their buildings dirtier, and the clothing they’ve left me has little frayed spots along the edges.

  Pulling the clothing into my lap, I run the fabric between my fingers. Even this is coarser, less refined than what I’m used to. The color is uneven, and the shirt has no buttons. I frown at the blue as the memory of Linea and the little bird taps on the fringes of my mind. I worry the bright color will make me stand out, just like that bird did among the branches of the tree.

  Well, it’s not like I have a choice. I pull the undergarments from the middle of the pile and put them on. They’re both slightly too big, but I’m not about to ask El to bring me new ones. The shirt is also large, and insists on sliding off either one shoulder or another. At least the pants, which are the dark brown of the tree after a rainstorm, have a string around the waist to help secure them.

  A moment later, I am fully dressed and sitting in the wheelchair as I wait for El to return. When the door finally clangs open, I jump. The young man’s grinning face appears through it, and he trots over to me. “Feel better?”

  I nod. “Yes, thank you.”

  “Good.” He walks behind me and flips up the brake levers, then pushes the chair toward the door. “Time for dinner.”

  ***

  The mess hall is even more crowded than the infirmary. Four long rows of tables run up and down the giant room, which has a pale, wood-plank floor marred by lines of red and blue paint. Along the left wall is a fifth and shorter row of tables loaded with food. The very far end of the space is unlit except for the sunlight spilling in through four skylights. A large white rectangle with some sort of horizontal metal hoop is hanging there, bolted at a ninety-degree angle to the front of the board. It’s several feet off the ground, high enough that I can’t imagine what its purpose is.

  I cringe as El wheels me through the doorway, and many of the people turn to look at me. I sense him bend down, and his quiet voice touches my ear. “Don’t worry. They don’t bite.” As I’m trying to puzzle out this odd statement, he pushes my chair over to a table and locks the brakes, then takes off for the food tables. I’m obviously meant to stay here and wait. Glancing around, many people catch my eye and smile, then go back to their conversations. My back is to the room’s entrance, with the food tables to my left. A blank wall to my right is pierced by a doorway near either end. The one on the end nearest the hoop-board is lit, and the clattering of metal and chatter of voices spills out from the other side. The table where I sit is mostly empty, with a group of perhaps eight people sitting near the other end.

  After a moment, during which my anxiety only grows at being left alone in the crowded room, El returns with two trays expertly balanced on his hands. He slides one in front of me and takes the seat to my right, setting down his own tray. He pulls out the folding metal chair and sits in it, then scoots it forward with a scraping sound.

  Tantalizing scents assault my nose, overwhelming my brain as they each compete for priority. I look down at the bountiful collection of food on the tray and my stomach growls so loudly that El chuckles as he picks up his fork and shovels scrambled eggs into his mouth.

  “What’s the problem?” he asks after a moment, during which I’ve done nothing but stare at the collection in front of me.

  “I...what is it?”

  He laughs as his eyes fix incredulously on my face. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen fruit before.”

  “Of course I have.” He holds up his hands in surrender, and my indignation fades. “Well, not like this...it was all soft and had dimmer colors.” I pick up my fork and poke at the bright red fruit.

  El shakes his head. “Man, I forget how deprived you kids are, sometimes. That’s a strawberry.”

  I pick up the fruit with my fingers and bite into it. A taste both familiar and foreign spills across my tongue, somehow sweet and sharp at the same time. The little seeds feel like grit when they stick between my teeth. I look up at El in wonder, and drop my gaze in embarrassment when I find his eyes studying my face. “I didn’t know food could taste like this.”

  He reaches over and fishes a little berry out of the ceramic bowl, this one so dark blue it looks purple. “Try this one.”

  By the time my plate is empty, I feel as if I could never forget this moment, even if I spent the rest of my life in sensory deprivation. The buzz of chatter around us fades away, overcome by the experience of such complex food. I hardly notice everyone else leaving the room, leaving me and El alone, except for a pudgy man who is gathering up empty serving dishes.

  Even the oatmeal and the scrambled eggs, both foods I’m intimately familar with, were far better and more intense than I could ever have imagined. Sugar and spices wove together to create intricate tapestries of taste and scent. Colors replaced the tan, white, and gray of Compound fare. There was no need to choke down this food, forcing myself not to gag on tasteless lumps of sustenance. I can’t help the smile that pulls at my lips as I look into the eyes of the young man who has been appointed my tour guide. I watch as he gathers up our trays and takes them to the lighted doorway, and waits there until a pair of pale arms reach out to take the dishes from him.

  When El returns to our table, he leans his hands on the back of the chair and raises an eyebrow at me. “You think you can walk the rest of the way?”

  The food has chased away the last remnants of weakness from my limbs, and I nod. El grins and extends a hand to help me out of the wheelchair. This time, I’m a little more prepared for the feeling of another human’s touch. Humans are warm, alive. After a lifetime of the cool touches of androids, it’s an alien sensation.

  El tells me to leave the wheelchair behind, then he leads me back down the hallway. I could get lost in this massive building, with its many rooms and long, echoing halls. Without the large windows that grace almost every room in the Compound, this place is dark even in the daylight. Few rooms are lighted, a fact which I bring up to El as he finishes our tour.

  “Well, we do have some power, but most of it goes to the infirmary, the kitchens, and heating the water. Oh, and the grow lights.” He knocks on the door to the women’s clothing room, and when no one answers, pushes it open to let me see inside. Double rows of clothing hang on long rods which completely fill all wall space. Benches like the ones in the bathrooms run down the center, and two large mirrors stand at the far end. “There’s only so much we can do without attracting the attention of The Society.”

  I stare in awe at the room’s contents. “Where does all this come from? Surely you don’t have farms and factories hidden away in this building, too?”

  El chuckles as he lets the door swing closed and leads me on down the same corridor we traversed earlier. “No.” He turns, and for the first time I notice the fading bruise under his eye. “We’ve had two decades to build up our stores, and some things last longer than others. We take what The Society discards, we make what we can, and we do without the rest.” He shrugs. “We live a decent life here, even if we don’t have the luxuries a Compound can afford.”

  “Compound luxuries come at a price.” For a moment I stare off into the distance, remembering what that price almost turned out to be.

  “Hey.” he lean
s around and bobs his head to catch my gaze. “You’re a lot more perceptive than most Society kids we pick up. Must be your mother’s influence.”

  “I haven’t seen her since I was a baby.” I still can’t force my mind to accept the fact that she’s my mother at all, but I keep this part to myself.

  “Well, I meant your genes, but I see your point.” He jogs forward a couple steps, then turns around and walks backward, keeping pace with me. Up ahead, a small group of people come around the corner and move toward us, talking between themselves.

  “When am I seeing her, anyway?”

  He hesitates, and spins back to walk forward, nearly tripping in the process. I can’t suppress a chuckle at the antics of this man who looks like he’s lived such a hard life, but still has such an irrepressible spirit. “She got stuck on the Hill. She won’t be able to make it until tomorrow.”