Subordinance

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen

The halls are coolly lit, not contrasting too much from the harsh fluorescent lighting inside of the room we'd just left. The floors have a faint pattern imprinted in the tile, little squares making their way across the floor in neat, organized rows. Faded pastel wallpaper covers the sides of the hall, the woman's black uniform popping against the white interior. I shift my gaze from distraction to distraction as nervous energy buzzes through me, restless and anxious. I don't know why I'm so uneasy.

                That's a lie, I tell myself. I do know why.

I'm afraid of what the woman will show us—what she will show me. What she will say and how that will affect me.

                She's the Enemy—she's going to have a bias.

                She's got nothing against me, though. Why would she lie?

             Still, I can't shake the feeling of apprehension as she leads us into a room to the side of us, punching in a pass code and opening the door for us. It opens to reveal a rather warmly lit study, with hardwood flooring and cushioned armchairs. A desk is set up in the front of the study, a large blank screen implanted in the wall behind it. A maroon-colored throw rug is laid out across the floor. Elegant lamps positioned throughout the room illuminate the study. Pictures dot the wall with various certificates and badges, a few containing images of past moments frozen in time. These are the most interesting, with their smiling expressions and glittering eyes, the flag of the Enemy snapping in the still wind, fists raised high in victory.

                I realize I'm staring and stop, shuffling to the left and looking at the woman. She stands behind the desk, a remote in hand, her brow set in expectation. The Quadrant Officer stands mutely beside me, his expression comfortable and plain.

                "Take a seat," she says with a flat voice, gesturing to the plush armchairs. I sit, sinking in the cushioned fabric. I have to shift around somewhat awkwardly to find a comfortable position.

                I've never been in such lavish surroundings.

"Are we ready?" the woman says, her thumb poised above the remote. She takes our silence as a 'yes' and taps the remote as the screen flares to life. The lights dim automatically and the woman in black takes a stand beside the screen, her mouth set in a firm line.

                An image materializes on the screen, a map of Delta and the bordering Enemy. Each pentagonal District is clearly outlined, the smaller shape in the middle the darkened form of Delta Capitol. Each is neatly labeled with a symbol representing the name of the District. I know this map by heart; I could draw it out to minute detail from memory. Lights dot the map, and Delta is lit up by strings of electricity. It's the outline of our Empire we all know so well.

                "You've both seen this map, I'm assuming," she begins, gesturing at the map. "The image of your country, no?" Her tone suggests a contradictory sentence follows. "This image is over a hundred years old." She delivers condemning statement with aggravating apathy. I twitch, nervous. "This is your country now." A different image appears, this one polka-dotted with splotches of light, the highest concentration in the First Army Districts. The outlying Districts are a patchwork of light and dark, some almost completely unlit.

                I notice the Rho District has almost no lights.

"The so-called 'Enemy'—," she announces, the bordering country flaring to life, blinking with the lights that blanket the map. "Side by side, they're quite different, no?" Her passive tone is unnerving. She taps her remote again, and the maps fade and are replaced by images of the food in Delta: ration packets and canned goods accompanied by pictured plates of ration mash and sauce.