All The Lies We Told Ourselves

10 - Mine Own Directions

Celestine

***********

March 9th, Saturday

Freya had taken back her words. She was supposed to know something about the red line, about the people involved in it. I had mentioned her husband and she had only flinched and then lit a cigarette, like the threats meant nothing to her anymore. The week before, I had thought my speech had been convincing enough. Maybe I should have done something, turned her in, showed her more incriminating footage, but I couldn't bring myself to do it and I don't know why.

I was at a dead end again. I hadn't been able to find any of the people named in Miles' journal. Most of them were in the registry, sure, but how was I supposed to find them in the flesh? They could have been anywhere. So I took to the last thing I could connect with his disappearance, the workers strike.

***

I sat in the offices of a patrol building near the city center, looking through the database. I was alone in the room, and the stone walls with their high arches echoed my footsteps as I scrolled through the security footage displayed in front of me. My feet paced back and forth on their own as if it would help with anything. The photos and video clips tinted in blue appeared three dimensional from the projector.

It was a lot to wade through. A fight had broken out between the peacekeepers and the workers, ending in a great deal of casualties on both sides, though more on the workers. Photos of the casualties were included. Faces unrecognizable by broken cheekbones and nose bridges caved in. All of it was covered in a deep red mess. It made me feel terribly weak in the feet.

Something stopped me at one of the photos. Perhaps it was the navy blue suit that was not quite the same as the other ones. It was more similar to mine, someone of a higher position, as evidenced by the honorary medallion on the breast pocket. Shiny black hair and a nose that curved down, much like mine, were all I had to recognise from the bloody mess of swollen tissue. I was going to be sick.

"Miss Delgado?" A voice from the door said. I turned off the projector. The ants were feverishly running around my head, crawling their way into the cavities and nesting there. They were drowning me, I couldn't help it. I ran into the bathroom and let myself break a little.

***

The other half of the day went by in a sort of haze. I sat at the research building on Central Street and listened to the Hargreaves talk about the new project with the GPS micro chips. They called it "The Link" , and said they wanted to expand it beyond the miners.

"Yes, yes." Is what I answered, as if stuck on repeat, and wished they did not notice anything was wrong. Really, answering their questions was easy, I just went along with what my father had told me to say. We discussed the progress of their second project, something I would not have signed my name on, had the decision been in my hands. But it was established a mere decade ago.

A life sentence in the matter of a day. It was as difficult for me to comprehend as it sounded. Well anyway, it saved time and money, the convicts could return to work sooner and constant changes to the workforce didn't have to be made. It did make me wonder, however, what it felt like to experience ten years of something like that and only afterwards find out none of it actually happened. It had to mess with your mind in a myriad ways.

"I'm glad to hear everything has been going according to plan." Is all I said.

***

11:30 PM

I waded through the hallways without a specific place in mind. My parents were gone, showing their faces and raising morale in some fine event in the city center. Maria was already asleep.