Текст книги "The System"

Автор книги: Shelbi Wescott

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Текущая страница: 15 (всего у книги 22 страниц)

That assertion defied everything she had been taught by her parents. They instructed her to be a good citizen and a good friend; to live according to the laws of the land. That there was a wrong thing to do and a right thing to do—things that hurt people were wrong things to do. Moral relativism was never part of their family creed and guidelines. While her father was a self-proclaimed atheist and her mother agnostic, she had been raised in one of the most moral, ethical, and responsible households: what’s wrong was always wrong, no matter what.

She rubbed her cheek.

“Dad—” she started, but she didn’t know what to say to him. There were no words. No greeting card canned sayings that helped her navigate these murky waters of their tenuous relationship.

Scott looked up and his eyes were red. “Perhaps it’s time we go see Huck. You’ve missed it all. The explanations, the comfort. Huck will help you see…you are safe here.”

“I never guessed you to be such a lemming, Dad.”

Scott looked straight at her. “I’ve told you before that blind social behavior is not an actual trait of lemmings. It was manufactured, by a studio, for Hollywood effect. They flung those lemmings off the cliff to make it appear that they followed the first one. It’s false. A charade. There is an entire phrase, imbedded into the lexicon of our language that is a scientific lie. Perpetuating that belief by attributing my behavior to that animal is incorrect.” He tried to smile; tried to pass off his mini-lecture like a joke.

Lucy wasn’t buying it.

She raised her arms in disbelief. “Are you serious right now?”

“Yes,” Scott answered quickly. “You see…think about the make-up of an animal whose instincts would instruct it to rather die than seek self-preservation…”

With a sigh, Lucy hit her hand against her forehead. “Oh, Dad. How did you do this? You couldn’t have possibly known I was going to use the word lemming…but you’ve turned it around, to prove your point? You’re a mind ninja.”

Under different circumstances, that might have been a compliment.

This time Scott didn’t smile. “I’m serious. Monkeys, lemmings, ants. It doesn’t matter. All of our evolutionary instincts are to survive. And when humans are threatened we also naturally digress to that innate foundation as well…”

“Dad—” Lucy couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I’ve always taught my kids how to be critical thinkers.”

“And yet we’re living in an underground apartment building,” she exploded. “With blind allegiance to some crazy old dude? Dad! You and Mom told me once that you didn’t want me to attend church with Salem because their religion was based upon a crazy, narrow belief system.” She paused and searched her father’s face for clues that he knew what she was going to say next. “And here we are.” She motioned around the room.

“Huck could answer some of these things. He’s—”

“If you tell me you did this because you thought it would save our lives, fine. But if you tell me you believe him, this…everything?” Lucy couldn’t even finish her thought; the idea that her father could get caught up in some cultish organization was so unbelievable she was afraid that hearing him admit it would cause her to shrivel up and no longer exist. More than anything she had seen or heard, that fact, alone, would unravel everything she had ever believed. It was too much.

“There’s so much more to this than you could possibly understand,” Scott finally answered—it was a lazy move by a cowardly parent: expressing that she couldn’t understand and so therefore didn’t deserve answers. He had always been better than that. Always.

“I want to see Grant,” Lucy stated and put her hands on her hips. “Please?”

With a deep sigh, Scott looked at his oldest daughter and then scratched at the stubble on his chin. “You can’t.”

“I have to.”

“No.”

“His letter says he’s dead. Is he dead?”

“I can’t answer that—”

She took a defiant step closer. “You owe me an answer. You owe me that much.”

“Lucy…” Scott closed his eyes. “Grant is gone. Grant is gone and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

She hadn’t moved in over an hour. Her mother put away the food items—collections of grains and fruits that Maxine planned to use for a special family dinner—in the small cupboards and stepped over Lucy’s body on her way to make beds in the two bedrooms. It was like Lucy didn’t exist. She didn’t have any energy to cry or fight; instead she just stayed on the floor and hoped someone would kill her.

Maybe someone would step on her head on accident. Maybe someone would come and tank her anyway.

Lucy hugged Grant’s letter to her chest.

Maxine wandered over and stood above Lucy, with her arms over her chest.

“Get up,” she instructed.

Without reacting, Lucy stayed where she was.

“I’m taking you to the Center. It’s not healthy to stay cooped up in this apartment.”

“You think so?” Lucy stated, dripping with all the facetiousness she could muster, and then she rolled on her side, away from her mother.

For her entire life, Lucy had loved and adored her parents. While the rest of her teen friends wallowed in angst about over-protectiveness and fought ad nauseam about cell phones, grades, dating, and privacy, Lucy thought of her mother as one of her closest friends and looked up to her father as a wise leader. The strangest part was how quickly the facade tumbled, and how instantaneously her disillusionment took over. When she felt a tug of remorse for judging them too harshly, her mind pulled her back into the grim reality of the System. Housed inside these walls, walking freely and comfortably were people who, at the very least, were complicit in the release of a virus that killed billions of people. Billions.

With the loss so staggering, it was difficult to comprehend.

She had no answers, no understanding of why. She only had a face of evil: Huck. And her own father. And now, she realized, her mother too.

“I’m serious,” Maxine stated. She reached down to lift Lucy off of the ground, but Lucy yanked her arm back and tucked herself into a ball.

“The Center. The System. The Sky Room.”

Maxine stood directly over her daughter, both legs on either side, and peered down with her hands on her hips. She was seething, her chest rising and falling in rapid bursts, her eyes narrowed. “Why are you acting like this?”

“Because I’m a teenager,” Lucy replied with a flippant eye-roll. She was unafraid of being slapped again.

“I want to help. But you have to let me in,” Maxine replied. Lucy looked at her mother and felt a twinge of remorse for her flippancy. Her mother was worried. She’d never catered to Lucy before.

There was a knock on the door. Lucy knew that the doors in the pods were unlocked, so a knock was strange—someone from outside their family was waiting to be let inside. Feigning disinterest, Lucy kept her eyes on the door as her mother, with a sigh, left her post to answer it.

As Maxine opened the door wide, Lucy, from her vantage point on the floor, saw the girl from her first day standing outside in the hall. The one who had peered at her and closed the door.

“Hello, Cassandra,” Maxine said with a sigh. “Galen went to the Center…then he’s an assistant cook in the Sky Room today. He’s not here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

The girl named Cassandra ignored Maxine’s exasperated expression and clear dismissal. Unlike anyone Lucy had ever met before, the girl disregarded Maxine’s outstretched arm across the threshold and slithered her way into the King family residence.

“No, no,” the girl said and she walked straight up to Lucy. “I came to see her.”

Maxine’s shoulders slumped, and she looked back out into the now-empty hallway, and then shut the door. “Come in, of course,” she said to the closed door before turning around.

Lucy was able to get a good look at the girl without moving. Her sleek black hair was parted down the middle and braided into two long plaits; large golden hoops dangled from her ears, and pale pink lipstick glistened on her lips. Despite all the surrounding factors of their living situation, the girl—Cassandra—was stylish in a red shirt-dress and a yellow belt. She spoke with a slight accent, although Lucy couldn’t place it.  She had to be close to Lucy’s age, although even age seemed relative in the System. Her dark skin was flawless and smooth.

But it was her eyes that caused Lucy pause. One eye was the color of night and it was so dark that even the pupil blended into the iris: just a dark black circle. Her other eye was a kaleidoscope of color: one half started off as brown, but toyed with turning green or gold, before settling on a sky blue. The effect was so arresting that Lucy couldn’t stop staring.

“So. We meet. The girl who arrived late to the party,” the girl said, looking down on Lucy’s rolled up body. “Come on. Get up. Let’s go.”

Lucy shifted into a sitting position and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Go where?”

“Around. Don’t you want to?”

“Not really,” Lucy answered to the stranger. “I don’t know you.” She stole a look to her mother who stood back, but appraised the situation with a look of annoyance rather than relief. It was written all over her face: Don’t come in here and achieve what I could not. Lucy looked between her mother and the new girl and back again.

Cassandra raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Of course not. That’s why you should come. You won’t ever meet anyone like this. Consider me your welcoming committee.”

With one final look to her mom, Lucy nodded. “Sure,” she agreed out of spite and rose to her feet. Tucking Grant’s letter into the waistband of her pants, she looked over at her mother again for permission—with raised eyebrows and an expectant silence—and after a long stare, Maxine motioned for the door.

“When will you be back?” her mother asked crossing her arms.

Cassandra shrugged. “By curfew?” she suggested, but Maxine laughed at her reply. The girl didn’t cower. “Fine, fine, Mrs. King. Let’s say by dinner. Lucy has a lot to see.”

With visible frustration, Maxine relented. Turning away and placing her palms flat on the apartment’s small kitchen table. She bent over, as if in prayer, and didn’t say anything else as Cassandra and Lucy exited the apartment and walked out into the sterile hallway. The elation Lucy felt at winning against her mother’s will was quickly replaced by confusion and apprehension—did she really want to follow this girl blindly throughout the System?

After the door was shut and they had meandered a few feet away, the girl flipped her long braids over her shoulders and smiled. “Parents in this place have become so predictable. They want you to buy in to the same lie they have. So much so that they’re eager to do things they never would have before. They’re permissive, to a point, and to a fault.”

“I’m not sure I’ve found that to be the case,” Lucy said, thinking only of Grant.

“Cass,” she said, sticking out her hand toward Lucy’s middle. Lucy grabbed her palm and gave it a small pump. “Your next door neighbor.”

“Lucy. King.”

“I know. The Head Technician’s daughter.”

“So, how did you end up down here?”

Cass smiled. “Your dad orchestrated the reason we’re here. My dad is the man behind the place.”

“Oh yeah?” Lucy asked, her head still foggy and her mind still fixated on Grant and Grant alone.

“Yuppers,” she replied. “Claude Salvant. Architect and designer behind all the Systems. Overseer of Building for this one. So,” Cass flashed Lucy a wink, “keep your complaints to yourself.”

Joking or not, Lucy couldn’t even bring herself to smile. Cassandra seemed to notice her audience was struggling. They approached the door at the end and pushed their way through, then walked to the elevator and Cass called it to them by placing her palm on the device by the door. Once inside the elevator, Cass turned to Lucy and smiled.

“So, this place…for all its high-tech perks…has one downfall.” She leaned in conspiratorially toward Lucy’s ear. “Paper-thin walls.”

“Ah,” Lucy mumbled and she understood the implication. “Well, then I apologize for the meltdowns.”

“Seems like they were a bit warranted. But I never judge what happens in someone else’s family. Scout’s honor.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Look, Lucy. Here’s what’s going to happen. You with me? We’re going to stop by the Center. Make sure some people see us. We might disappear into one of the theater rooms, chat it up with the boys who hang around there. Then you and I are going to make a little secret journey,” Cass lowered her voice and leaned in. “Follow my lead and don’t ask any questions. And understand that I get annoyed when people can’t obey these simple instructions. Got it?”

The doors opened and Cass walked Lucy out into a hallway. Double doors five feet away were held open and Lucy could hear the din of voices and conversations, people laughing and carrying on like normal. Cass made a move to walk toward the room, but Lucy stalled.

“Wait. We just met. And you’re taking me on some kind of—” Lucy noticed Cass widened her eyes and shook her head once as a warning, so she stopped mid-sentence and crossed her arms over her chest. She was forever going to be the odd one out down here. “Why are you doing this? You don’t owe me anything.”

Cass smiled as if she had expected Lucy to ask her this. “I already told you, ma cheri. Les murs parlent. Anything you’ve said above a whisper,” she tapped her right ear with her pointer finger a couple times and then giggled. “I already know enough. I know you needed out of that shitty…with apologies to my dear Papa…apartment. Now, are you ready for an adventure?”

If Lucy had ever admired Salem’s clumsy flirting, it was only because she had not been introduced to the fine art of pure, unadulterated charm. Twenty-year-old Cassandra Lourdes Marie Salvant oozed charisma at every turn—her two-toned eyes were sharp and clear as she meandered around the Center, flitting in and around different groups of people, touching them gently on the arm as she went—documenting her presence with a smile or a nod, and sometimes with a one-liner or compliment too. People’s heads followed her as she roamed. Everyone knew her, deferred to her, welcomed her with smiles, hugs, and genuine excitement.

Lucy shuffled behind, her heels still sticking out of the back of her shoes, her arms crossed over the shirt she had worn for two days straight. She had never been so viscerally aware of her own deficits. For a while she was embarrassed that Cass had to be seen with her, but soon she realized that no one seemed to notice her—eyes and attention went to the dark beauty first, following her path visibly as if she left behind an actual trail of pheromone.

The Center was a recreation hall—roughly the size of Lucy’s old high school gym back at Pacific Lake. It was set up with air hockey tables, darts, and a snack shack. For the younger set, there was an indoor playground. Monitored by a larger woman with a whistle, the kids slid down slides and crawled through tunnels, climbed up ropes, and played organized games of capture the flag or tag.

Lucy’s siblings were here. The twins seemed to be playing a variation of the game tetherball with some other kids their age and Harper ran gleefully through the indoor park in pure screaming bliss. Galen hung around a picnic table with some other kids, and they were engaged in a card game Lucy didn’t recognize. But the smile on his face indicated that he was having fun. He looked up and saw his sister and registered shock and then amusement, he motioned her over, but Lucy declined and pointed to Cass. Galen followed her finger and then nodded, as if arriving with the beautiful next-door neighbor was the most predictable thing in the world. He waved and went back to his cards, and Lucy lingered, watching him, before moving on.

Cass must have noticed Lucy’s face as she took in the scene; she stopped her trek and backtracked, leaned into her new friend and whispered, “Stimulation for the body is good for the mind. Children are encouraged to play. Plus, it’s hard to be cooped up, no? My dad designed this play space with kids of all ages in mind. I’m quite fond of it.”

Everyone else seemed to be, too.

Lucy loved the way Cass spoke to her—voice low and lilting, like every word had power and meaning.

Cass kept moving and she stopped to chat with a group of young women sitting on some couches, engaging them in a conversation about a book. Then Cass slipped her arm through Lucy’s and patted her bicep with a loving tap. “Look, look. A movie theater too. He did think of everything, didn’t he?” And Lucy couldn’t tell if Cass was filled with genuine admiration for her father or if everything she said was cut with an undercurrent of cynicism.

Sure enough, just beyond the ruckus of the Center gym, there was a theater—small in size and scope compared to the megaplexes Lucy usually graced, but a theater nonetheless. People lounged in beanbags and on blankets and sat glued to the screen as some black and white classic played in the foreground.

“You think we’ve been seen, ma cheri?” Cass asked and she patted Lucy’s arm again. “You and Galen had a moment. So. Let us retire from here.” Cass directed Lucy into the theater room and, holding her hand, placed her up against the back of the wall. She waited, watching the crowd and then watching the screen. Then, as the music swelled and the group’s attentions were focused forward, Cass opened a small door in the side of the theater and as quick as a wink, ducked inside and shut the door behind her.

They were back in a hallway, long and sterile, with no other doors nearby. Cass looked at Lucy and erupted into a smile.

“Your face!” she exclaimed. “So afraid! My adventures are top-rate, I promise. But…” she brought her finger up over her lips and made a shushing sound. Then, still holding on to Lucy’s hand, she pulled her down the hall and through another set of doors, through a second hall and another set of doors; until Lucy was altogether turned around inside the giant belly of the System.

Finally they seemed to have discovered a dead-end. Cass led Lucy right up to the metal wall and with a wide smile she leaned down to the floor and pushed her hands against the metal. The wall gave under her touch and slid upward three feet, exposing a darkened tunnel.

“I don’t think so,” Lucy declined as politely as she could. “I have this fear…of the dark and small spaces. It started with this fruit cellar at home and I just don’t think…”

Cass didn’t seem to hear Lucy’s mumbled worries, because she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the exposed tunnel, disappearing into the darkness. Swearing under her breath, Lucy followed, taking a second to clutch Salem’s necklace and send up a tiny prayer to the God in charge of phobias. As she crawled, the darkness swept over her and she couldn’t see anything. Panic crept through her.

“Cass?” She called and her voice echoed. Behind her she heard the wall slide back into place and she was in total darkness, alone. “Cass?” Her voice rose with worry.

Still on all fours, Lucy scrambled forward, hoping to find her friend. But before she could get very far, the tunnel flashed with light. Overheads snapped on and Lucy covered her eyes with her hands and let her sight adjust to the view. Cass stood next to the far wall by a light switch panel, an impish grin twitching on her face. They were in a small room with nothing but an elevator waiting for them.

“Stand up, silly girl. You have room,” Cass instructed and then she hit the elevator button and the door swung open for them immediately.

With a sigh, Lucy stood up and brushed off her hands and then climbed onto the lift. Cass pushed a single button. Up and up and up the elevator rose. And Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps her father was ignorant of the geography of the System. They were exceeding the time it took to get to the Sky Room. By the time it started to worry her, the elevator clunked to a stop. The doors opened. But they opened to a wall. A brown wall pushed up against the open doors, blocking them from exiting and Lucy looked at Cass for an explanation.

“Push it,” Cass said. “Don’t worry, it’s no trap. You’re so serious, Lucy. Come on, push it.”

Worried about appearing like a spoilsport, Lucy obliged Cass’s instructions and pushed against the wall. With one simple shove, the wall sprung open, revealing an attic-sized room—sparkling clean with a red couch and yellow armchair. A book overturned on an ottoman; a throw-blanket folded neatly to the side. Craning her neck, Lucy realized that the elevator had deposited them close to the surface. Instead of a ceiling, there were thick panes of glass, nearly four inches thick, and they exposed a blue sky, spotted with clouds. The landscape of Nebraska was obscured; the windows just gave those in the room a taste of the earth outside.

“Well, go on, silly,” Cass prodded and gave Lucy a little push.

Lucy walked out into the middle of the room. Then Cass followed behind and pushed the faux wall back into place, obscuring the elevator—just like in the library on the day she had arrived—and spun around in a full circle, admiring the tidiness and the beauty of this little hideout. More than anything, she felt buoyed by the sunlight. Real sunlight poured in through the window and bathed Lucy in warmth. The fake Sky Room had nothing on Cass’s real sky room and Lucy smiled.

“What is this place?” Lucy said and then she blushed, aware of the awe in her voice.

“Welcome,” Cass said. “To my little place of escape. My den of refuge.”

“This is amazing. It’s so close to the surface…does Huck know?”

“Oh, goodness no,” Cass replied quickly and she moved her way to a makeshift kitchen; with miniature cupboards brimming with snacks. She stood on her tiptoes and opened one, reaching into the back and pulling out a box of graham crackers. “When my father was overseeing construction? He built this place for me…it’s a secret. The day he told me about the plans for our family, I cried and cried. Because for me…the most important thing is the sky. The clouds. I can’t imagine living without seeing the clouds.”

“So, he gave you a place to watch the clouds.”

“Or the stars.”

“Wow,” Lucy breathed. She pulled a pillow off the small couch and placed it on the ground, and then she lay her head down, her arms above her, and stared out the glass. The window was so large, that she could almost forget she was inside, hidden away.

“So, you lived here? In Brixton? Among the dead?” Lucy asked and she looked at Cass sidelong as she made her way back to where Lucy was laying.

“So many dark days,” Cass admitted. “For you, your nightmare began a month ago. Bam. A big reveal. But not for me…my apocalypse started years before yours.” She handed a cracker to Lucy.

Lucy took a bite and wiped her mouth. “Why did you bring me here? Why are you sharing this with me? Couldn’t we get in trouble?”

“Of course,” she replied. “A hidden elevator to a refuge that provides a hope he did not provide? Ha, no. Huck would not be pleased to discover this…I’m not sure if it’s tank worthy, but isn’t that part of the way this place works? Confusion over consequences. Loyalties run thin…or so he makes you feel…perhaps my father would suffer the greatest.”

Never a rule-breaker, Lucy began to feel nervous. Her heart pounded and she thought she heard the elevator clunk downward; she wondered where they were looking, where the landscape above them would be on a map—if she could pop her head up and look out, would she be able to see her car?

After a long pause, Lucy rolled her head over and looked at Cass, facing her. Cass continued to face upward, looking at the sky with longing. She couldn’t help but stare at Cass’s strange eyes; looking from one to the other and feeling uneasy—as if there were something about this new friend that was not quite human.

“Why are you showing me this?” Lucy asked.

“A perfect question,” Cass replied and she stretched herself out next to Lucy. She seemed confident and at ease—without any of the worry that Lucy felt. Either Cassandra was braver than Lucy or she lacked sense. Perhaps the former seemed more likely, but Lucy worried that it was the latter. “The walls, you see. I heard it all. And so I realized that we are not so different, you and I. Each of our fathers sold his soul for a future. And while they sit and cry and pray that we will understand the ramifications for failing to fall in line…we see that this doesn’t have to be our future. Our parents have fallen prey to a rule by terror. A pity really.” As her monologue went on, Cass’s accent grew heavier. Lucy still didn’t know anything about this girl. “Yet…they keep doing things to save us. Perhaps to ask for forgiveness? This sky,” she swept her hand out over the window, “is an apology in a way.”

“You put all that together from eavesdropping?” Lucy questioned with a small smile.

Something about that struck Cass as funny and she roared loudly, slapping her hand against the floor. When she was done laughing, she pointed to Lucy and reciprocated the smile. “I listened before you came. I know some things. Perhaps more than you do…about the pain of leaving people behind. Your father’s empty assurances of protection. They do not want to lose you…”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Lucy said flippantly.

“Your friend Grant is alive.”

Lucy sat up and looked down at Cass, who didn’t look at Lucy right away. “How do you know that?” she asked and instinctually she felt her pants to make sure his letter was still secure against her body. “My father told me—”

“What he needed to tell you. Yes. But he is not dead.”

“How do you know?” Lucy asked again, pressing closer, and staring at Cass.

Cass shifted her eyes to Lucy and she winked. “The kaleidoscope eye sees all.”

Lucy exhaled loudly and felt like crying, but she held it back. Grant was alive. It didn’t matter how Cass knew; knowing was only a piece. Now the hard part would start. How could Lucy get to him before her father’s hand was forced and something bad did happen? She felt silly. Grant had been dead and undead so many times, she had lost count.

“He’s my best friend,” Lucy said to Cass. “I feel like he’s the only one who would understand how strange this is—”

A shadow passed over them, a quick and fast-moving darkness, a blur, and Lucy’s heart began to quicken. She raised her head to the window and saw the flash of movement above them; Lucy screamed and scampered back to the wall, convinced that they had somehow been caught. But Cass’s giggle gave her pause. Lucy peered up to the window and then let out a long breath.

Relaxing against the cooling glass was Frank, Blair’s black lab. Panting heavily and then pausing to lick the window—seemingly unaware of the bodies below.

“Oh, poor puppy,” Lucy said and she shot to her feet and stared up at the dog. “Why didn’t Blair go back for him? He’s all alone out there?”

“Punishment,” Cass said and shrugged. She stood and stretched upward as if waking from a long nap. “Going out is against the rules. She broke the rules. She loses her companion.”

“But he’ll die,” Lucy said and she looked to Cass as if she held the keys to fix this.

“Yes,” Cass replied and nodded. “Why does Huck care? He is immune to death. A necessary cost. That is what he says…those we lost were a necessary cost for forging a new life, a better life, free of the path of our world’s blindness and evil. What is one dog?”

One dog meant everything in a dogless world, Lucy thought. Frank was not something to be tossed aside, but to be cherished. But she knew that arguing with Cass was pointless; this was not her new friend’s logic. Lucy had not heard the Huck rhetoric before spoken so plainly. Cass was educating her on what her parents had been afraid to say: Why, really, were they here, underground, as the lone survivors? What was the point?

“He thought he was doing a good thing?”

“Not a scholar of history, I see,” Cass replied with a wink.

Lucy shrugged. “Hey, I did my homework. Solid B student.”

“Huck felt death was a necessary action. Imperative to change. He’s not so difficult to understand…he follows in the footsteps of many powerful men who believed radical change was our only chance. The difference, I suppose, is he succeeded where they failed. And now the only history that matters is the one he is writing. He is the hero of a broken world.” Cass crossed her arms over her body and took a step forward.

“Sounds like you could write the history books if you wanted,” Lucy replied. Charming and smart. Brimming with sophisticated, canned replies. “Who are you?” Lucy asked in awe.

“Someone who has had more time to live in this world. We lived in Cambridge. Woke up in the middle of the night with my father standing over me with a suitcase. Pack what you need. Leave everything else. And say goodbye. Moved here…after Huck’s army annihilated the city…in a house built for my father, my mother, my brother, and me. Left my friends without a word and told that I was now part of the Elektos. The chosen ones. But Huck would call me a variable if he knew my heart. C’est la vie.”

The word caught her attention. “I thought that variables were people outside who could threaten the world inside,” Lucy clarified, thinking back to when her mother uttered that word in the Sky Room.

“Or people inside who want out.” Cass smiled.

“Then not everyone wants to stay here?” Finally someone was telling her the truth. The plastered smiles of the men and women in the Sky Room were a facade. They were people born from fear, from irrationality.

“Sadly, not enough. They will understand someday, but by then it will be too late.”

“I want out too.”

Cass smiled. Her lips caught a bit on her bright teeth. She nodded once—a commanding action. They had known each other for an hour, but they were united in rebellion.

Lucy rolled her eyes playfully, “I know you know that already…but…I wanted to say it. Out loud. This is not a life. I can’t stay like this and I don’t feel like I should have to.”

“Of course. Agreed. But if you think it’s easy to just walk out and leave, then you don’t understand the System or the man in charge of it.”