The Last Librarian

35. | A New Ultimatum

Words cannot describe my relief. My dad is here. My family is here. They're safe. I cling to my father, not daring to let him go. Afraid that he'll just disappear. I'm scared this whole place is just another crazy illusion. That I'm in my head and any second, I'm going to shoot awake, strapped to an examination table with Dr. Ripley and Dr. Yung and a bunch of inspectors looming over me. I shudder. Dad pulls away from me finally, staring down into my green eyes, concern painted across his gentle features.

"Are you alright, Magnolia?" He asks me. It takes me a long time to nod my head. My mind is still foggy, and I have to really think about what I'm doing.

"I'm okay now that I know that you're okay," I tell him, embracing him again.

"I missed you," I add as tears fill my eyes. It's the first time I've cried happy tears in a long time.

"I missed you too," he says softly.

"You're safe," I repeat as I rest my head on Dad's shoulder taking in his scent- musk and leather with a trace of steel and the faint, sour smell of lithium-ion batteries. An odd mixture but one I've desperately missed. I guess Dad must do the same thing here that he always has: fix things. He rubs my back, chuckling lightly.

"Of course we are," he replies. There's a touch of pain and unease in his words that catches me off guard. My father is rarely uneasy about anything. If Dad is worried, that means that something is wrong.

Eventually I have to pull away from him, even though I don't want to. He's wearing a pair of tan slacks and a white button-down shirt with a gold patch over his heart. It's the same seal I saw on all the soldiers' caps. A round sigil with two crossed arrows framed by baroque filigree. Behind the arrows is the faintest shape of an S, which I'm guessing stands for 'Sentiment'. There's a blue clearance badge clipped to the collar of his shirt with his picture and the words 'all access'.

"How did you get here?" I ask. Dad takes my hands in his as pain sweeps over his features.

"Magnolia, "he begins gently as if he's about to tell me the secrets of the universe, "there's something you need to know." I swallow hard, bracing myself for the worst. Mom's dead. The medicine I traded for didn't work. She was already too far gone. Tears fill my eyes as I stare at my father, waiting for the words to flop out of his mouth. But before he can say anything all the screens hooked to the support beams flicker and their images change from stats and graphs to an ominous, black screen. Dad and I turn towards the nearest one, still holding hands. White words appear on the screen.

This message is brought to you by the International Wellbeing Council.

I take in a deep breath, glancing around. Nobody else really seems to care about the message. It's as if they've all seen it a hundred times. Maybe they're our wanted ads, like Kellan was talking about.

The black fades out to an image of a middle-aged man dressed in a flowing charcoal cape that's draped over his shoulders and held in place by a silver chain. Underneath the cape he's wearing a simple, fitted navy blue jacket buttoned all the way up to his neck with two rows of silver buttons going all the way to his chest, and a pair of white slacks. A navy military cap with silver trim and Hinge's insignia in the center sits squarely on his head. It takes me a minute to recognize him. Director Alaric Hall is in charge of all law enforcement within Hinge. He very rarely makes public announcements, and when he does, it always means bad news.

"Good afternoon, citizens of Hinge," he starts, clasping his hands together. I'm suddenly standing up straighter. More attentive, less foggy. An old habit from when I was still living in Hinge. Whenever a video like this was broadcast everyone made sure they were standing straight, giving our leaders our utmost attention. Nobody wanted an inspector to catch them being lazy in their efforts. But everyone here seems like they couldn't care less. Most of them had to have been raised here, I realize. Never knowing the paralyzing fear of being under constant watch. Director Hall starts speaking again, pulling me from my thoughts.