Hidden in the Walls

Chapter 9

 “Can we please slow down?” I beg desperately as my muscles strain underneath me.

“We’re on the outskirts of the city now, we’re almost there” Jayce replies.

Almost where? I ask myself silently. As we continue down the streets, the number of people dissipates as we run along and now there is only one or two people, loitering outside of houses or walking in the opposite direction. We gradually begin to slow and for once I see something, almost familiar. There are large doors which stand in front of me, almost identical to those which mark the passing between one class sector and the next. However this aperture does not stretch to reach a blank wall which bars from floor to ceiling. Instead its edges have been sanded away into a gentle curve which meets reflective pentagons and hexagons which tessellate perfectly creating a round dome which joins the ceiling at its highest point.

I stand there for a few moments, taking in the design before I feel a tug on my hand as Jayce guides me forward. As we approach the gates, they open slowly, seemingly independently, allowing us to pass through without questioning. When we step inside we are greeted by an old woman, leaning over some trays who smiles at us warmly but all I can do is stand and look around me in awe.

From the reflective façade we have entered a world of iridescent colour and light which kisses my skin with warmth unlike anything I have felt before. Bulbous growths hang limply from gnarled branches which twist and interlock to create a dense ceiling of chestnut brown and olive green.  Most colours I have never seen before, whose very sight appears to radiate warmth.

“This is the greenhouse,” Jayce whispers close to my ear.

As I walk slowly down the aisles, Jayce points out the different plants I let his words wash over me like waves as he tells me their names, I stretch my fingers out tentatively towards the petals and run my hands along riddled bark. Some are stagnant under my touch whereas other retract and close. But there are thousands which I cannot touch, which dwell on the infinite platforms which rise above me. Only the greenhouse workers are allowed to go past the first level and every now and again I see a flash of their brown uniform but once I whirl around to see them better, they have already disappeared once more. The workers which I do see are mostly young and seem to be simply cleaning up the shelves, straightening the pots and tending delicately to the plants.

I am in a world of wonder when we finally reach a clearing where we sit down on a carved metal bench. As we lavish in the warm light I ask Jayce what it is. He tells me that all of these plants have I life force running through them and to survive they need this warm light. When we had to move into this second colony the biologists all had to work to artificially create this warmth and for a long time supplies where running low because everything was dying. But when it was finally perfected, everything flourished and it is said that there was a large celebration.

“What do you mean ‘second colony’” I ask, confused.

“You don’t know?” he looks at me strangely. “Weren’t you taught the histories when you were younger?”

“Only the scholars have access to the histories and even they have holes in them that span decades”

“You’re going to need to know what happened if you’re going to survive here. Centuries ago, humans lived on the Earth, but it was dying. Our ancestors worked together and for a long time they supported themselves, just scraping by. But when they knew they wouldn’t last much longer they started to build the colony, which was like a world within a world. For many decades, everyone lived in the colony, and the citizens all had to pull their weight to keep the colony on its feet. But soon greed took over and the leaders became corrupted. They started withholding information and even though genetically modified food had been stored away to last hundreds of centuries, only those with enough power to black mail workers in food distribution had access to it, whereas everyone wasted away on packs of minerals and vitamins in powder form, made in mass.”

As Jayce says this, I think pack to the small packets which would be allotted for the week, full of powder which you would dissolve and drink in liquid, sometimes it came in tough, hardened in sheets which you would chew.

“But eventually, the corruption leaked and there was a group of people who were willing to stand up for their rights. But they were few in number, others were too frightened for their futures and the higher classes, seemed too numerous and powerful to defeat. And so those who fought were sentenced to death. However there were those in their number who knew where they could escape to, the manual workers knew there was a vast expanse in the roof where food was once stored. They stowed away in the night, taking all that they could with them and created this city, Spero which means I hope. When the resistance had escaped, it was a tarnish on society and the power which had been extricated on the lower class and thus it was hidden, and forcibly forgotten.” I watch as Jayce becomes even more irate as he continues.” They removed all symbols of hope or vitality like music and art so that they could keep their citizens in oppression. They gave them all numbers instead of names to remove their humanity “That” he spat out the word in disgust and anger, “was where you came from.”

I sit in shock and I can feel tears welling in my eyes. I want to rebuke him, say that this could never be true and that I have lived my life in a utopia and he doesn’t understand what he is saying. I have not been used, I have not been betrayed, I have not been lied to. But even as I tell myself these things I know that they are not the truth. Every detail of his story matches up with the world which I have come from and the life which I have known, from the oppression and prejudice to the dark colours and how your life was drained from you each and every day. Even my number is a symbol of what I have never had and as the realization hits me I feel my body begin to shudder and I am racked with both terror and intense longing which pulls harshly on my heart.

I feel arms envelope me as I shake and cry out uncontrollably; as all that I have ever known falls crashing down around me in chaos and confusion. I don’t realize that tears are rolling down my cheeks until fingers brush them softly away. I cling to Jayce as my only protection from that old life. As grief fills me I gasp over and over again “I am nothing but a number”

“You are more than a number,” Jayce says firmly and I gaze up, feeling as though I am in a dream, as he says, “you are curious and beautiful and courageous and strong. I will never let you be a number again, you will choose your own name, you will never go back there and you will never be alone.