Conniveo

Chapter XXIV: Esteem

I squinted as I awoke in a strange room. A bright warm light beamed into my face at an oblique angle from the window. I found it to be very unusual and highly discomforting, as I had never dealt with such an intense light in my waking moments. I shifted away from the light, allowing the beams fall on the mattress. The bed was slightly uncomfortable, but I could manage it. I looked around: at the low ceiling, the dull concrete wall and the oddly-spaced halogen lamps that lit up the room and threw uneven shadows of objects into the center. I had a brief thought of how my mother might react to such a place. 'There's absolutely no sense of aesthetics', she would say. I sat up suddenly and felt a tense headache. I was probably dehydrated. I also felt hungry. I dragged myself off the low bed and stood on the ground. It was made of something woody, but not wood itself. Maybe composite wood panels? I was unsure. I noticed that I was still wearing the bodysuit from Eugene's escape plan. I smiled at myself. It had been a daunting task, but judging from the fact that I was unharmed, I suppose we had been successful. This room looked shabby, but not like a containment cell.

As I put on my shoes, I caught a whiff of something unpleasant. I sniffed around and then I realized that the odor was coming from me. I felt somewhat embarrassed. I needed a good cleaning. I also needed to urinate. I began to consider how long I had been unconscious, that I had accumulated enough sweat to become malodorous. I shuffled out of the room, anxious because I had no idea whose home I was in, or whether the owner was available to show me to the facilities. I walked slowly through a small corridor with wood paneled walls and a low ceiling. This was definitely not a town house. I remembered that Lady Diella had mentioned within the plan a part about having to wait in a slum. Was this the slum? I could see why. The lighting in the house was inadequate and the construction was clearly unprofessional. I began to have second thoughts about using the lavatory facilities, but I realized I did not have much of a choice.

"You're up, finally."

I looked for the source of the voice and found Greg standing by a doorway in front of the corridor. He was no longer in his detention uniform, and was wearing a loose shirt and trousers. They were obviously not meant for his body size, and I wondered where he had acquired them. The doorway led to a room with better illumination than the corridor and I felt a natural pull to it.

"How long was I unconscious?"

"A little more than a day. Did you know you snore a little?"

"I do not!" Again, I felt embarrassed. I did not particularly like the sound of snoring.

"Don't freak out. It actually sounds good on you."

I was thankful for the poor lighting as I found it difficult to hide my embarrassment. A feeling of pressure in my lower abdomen reminded me of the reason for which I left the bedchamber.

"Would you know where the toilet is?" My voice was low. I felt a little ashamed to ask a male about something so private. He seemed flustered by the question. Maybe I was being overly prudish.

"Oh, follow me."

He turned around and walked into the room. I followed him cautiously, as I needed to take in my new surroundings. The walls were uneven, not built in straight lines as we commonly had in the cities, but thrown into unusual arcs and curves in some areas. I found it...strangely artistic. The room itself was painted a pale yellow which rendered everything in an unnatural warm light. Seats were few and strategically placed - at tables, work benches or in front of what I assumed was the entertainment screen. There were windows covered in dark brown cloth curtains, functional for eliminating the bright light coming from outside, yet fitting with the overall earthy look of the room. Whoever lived here was probably very utilitarian but somehow also understood the need for colour coordination.