The Second Dimension

Infraction Sensors

At last, thought Rose, dead with boredom, when she was able to return home after an interminable day.

Her attic was exactly the same as Lily's, who lived opposite. She had never really lacked for anything, but she didn't have it in extravagant quantities, and the food was the same every day. A sort of nutritional concentrate with no taste and made to be as cheap as possible, it at least gave her the strength to go days without sleeping.

They had never eaten anything else like it, so Lily and Rose had no idea what was good or bad food, even if Rose imagined that the food served in Blancheville or even Naae, the main town in the Avenia region, was tastier than hers. They simply soaked up the food, as is natural when sleeping or working.

When Rose pushed open the door to the flat, she looked around carefully. Merks may not have been much of a stickler for breaking the rules, but the Crime Scanners were. Discreet cameras hanging around every corner, watching for the slightest deviation, they inexorably passed the buck to the Trackers' station.

With the registration of the person in question, they extended the working hours. It was the ideal way to get rid of a police force that could, at any moment, turn a blind eye and forgive, a few coins having changed hands.

In extreme cases, they would make the person fall ill. Illness meant not going to work. This might be a good thing if meals were not served exclusively in factories. So she starved. Nice.

It had never struck Rose as odd that no-one ever got ill outside of this kind of case, because for her, illness didn't exist. However, she had a vague idea of what it might be, because Rose had already seen Merks absent for several days in a row, only to return with a greenish face, pale complexion and constantly asking the puzzled workers for pieces of paper tissue (she had heard him call it a handkerchief).

When she couldn't see any Sensors on the horizon, Rose went back into the studio and threw her satchel on the mattress on the floor.

She collapsed unceremoniously onto the mattress, without bothering to undress. A slight bulge under her thigh indicated the presence of the knife in one of her pockets.

Without asking any more questions, Rose fell asleep.

The days that followed were just as monotonous. She was deprived of sleep for three days in a row, so on the fourth day she waited until she had a serious headache before finally deciding to sleep.

By the eighth day, it was the end of the month and Rose had a day off. Luck was definitely not on her side. It was her monthly appointment at Centre 6, and she would be spending at least the day there, which was not a very happy prospect.

Rose could never remember the visits she made to the Centre. She had a vague memory of them, but it wasn't associated with any feelings. So she wasn't particularly anxious, just a little annoyed that it happened to fall on her day off.

And so the day arrived. Asked by letter to come dressed soberly, she went out wearing a simple shirt and black canvas trousers. She was already late and she wasn't one hundred per cent sure that the staff at the Centre would appreciate it.

The avenue where Centre 6 was located was as grey as the others, but there was no mist. The entire front of the Centre was visible. Rudimentary in appearance, the building didn't inspire much confidence.

It was grey, but the black painted letters were perfectly designed and the columns overhung by olive branches gave it a clear, neat, even excessively formal appearance.

The large glass doors shimmered in the cold sun, the same sun that grazed her skin but never warmed it.

Propaganda banners fluttered in the wind, spangling the façade with blue and yellow spots. Above the doors sat the Proxima emblem, an enormous crest several metres high and several metres wide.

Rose stared at the door as if she had never passed through it, as if she had never let the silver handles squeeze and flex under her fingers. The fact remained that this feeling of the unknown and this deep desire to know more had taken hold of her, despite her mind screaming at her that she had been through this before and that what lay behind could not bode well. What a wonderful quality and what a terrible flaw curiosity was, especially when the proportions it assumed were disproportionate, in Rose's case.

The hall was soberly sumptuous. All circular, the enormous hall was flanked by gigantic marble pillars that supported a most beautiful vault; all glass, it let the broad curtains of autumnal light filter through, dotting the blue metal seats with scattered flashes of soft light.

It was so high up that you could see all the way to the balcony of the second floor, far above. The stairs opened up before Rose, lined with azure.

Between the pillars were benches of the same colour. They seemed so tiny in the midst of the surrounding grandeur.

Strangely enough, there was nobody on the empty benches. Only small groups of people in white coats were chatting, their images reflected on the perfectly polished ceramic floor.

The card Rose had received indicated that she should head for the second floor. So she climbed the marble stairs.

A gut-wrenching scream split the air with the power of a knife.

Rose cried out in turn and turned towards the group of people in lab coats, who did not look at all panicked.

She concluded that she had been dreaming.

This idea grew stronger as time went by. After an hour, a girl in a lab coat, overloaded with medals, came to pick her up.

She was in her twenties and wore a dazzling white smile.

-Hello, you must be number 2475001, aren't you? I'm Dr Orway, President of the Council of Senior Members. Founder of the EGM. I sort of invented the Centres and everything that went with them. It's an honour for you to meet me.

Rose didn't answer, just stared at Orway, a mocking expression etched on her features. You mean her? President of the Senior Members? They were usually spoilt, snoring in their chairs during conferences. She could see Orway perched on her lectern, talking into the void while forty or so old people pondered the fate of the rhubarb pie for the next dinner.

-Not very chatty, is she?' said Dr Orway, whose smile had faded. Well, it's not that bad. Come along now.

Dr Orway dragged her through endless sterile corridors, occasionally saying 'hurry up' and 'go faster, you people are so slow!

Eventually they came to a fairly large square room. A platform was placed in the middle of the room. Dr Orway pointed to it.

-2475001, get on that,' she said.

If only she had her knife.

Rose didn't move, daring Orway to force her. She was just as good at hand-to-hand combat. Adylis had paid the price.

So it was that a black veil blurred her field of vision.

She barely saw Dr Orway make a gesture of impatience.