The House of Sept

Chapter 1

The harsh electric brightness reflecting off the silvery tube of rapidly spinning metal that maintained the generator would have left her with burnt holes instead of eyeballs, if she didn't have goggles on.

     Probably why no-one thought it necessary to put any damn windows in the tower's dark granite walls. Maybe the designers thought sunlight obsolete or too expensive a luxury.

     There was just the odd white glare of the globes behind her that powered the machine and the occasional paler, yellow light of hand lamps carried by rarely visiting Keepers. Or the stupidly lost.  

     Yeah, she thought bitterly, who needs the sky when there's a great flashing tube of lightning stuck in the middle of the room. 

     'Hey,' Sacha kept her voice low in case the spiders were eavesdropping. 'Do me a favor, shoot a stray beam into my heart. Finish what you started?'

     The endlessly turning chunk of metal ignored her as usual. 'Thank's for nothing.' Sacha gave the generator the finger, pretty pointless given that inanimate objects didn't give a shit what she thought about them, but that gesture of defiance made her feel better.

     Although, it did make her think, the central core was a lot like the damned Keepers, maintaining systems without empathy. She gave them the finger too, when they weren't looking of course.

     Oh, yeah, it was supposed to be an honor to be worked half to death and fed on dry sawdust she got assured was food and good for her, despite the fact it almost broke her teeth and choked her. 

     A bit like all the one-sided doctrine the Keepers spoon-fed everyone they deemed beneath them, Eiliat saved the world, the generator protects us, blah, blah, blah...

     Sacha pulled a face, what it didn't say was how boring it'd be or that Keepers would see workers as parts of a machine they didn't even understand.

     Workers were left to survive on a verbal code passed down the generations. Apprentices, when they had any to train that is, basically listened and learned. Or they died failing. 

     Something I can't afford. Not after Trall got himself killed trying to be a hero. Sacha glanced down at her gloved hands, protective leather hiding a multitude of scars and the sins of her own stupidity. 

     Sacha clenched her fists. Idiot, you should've let me die. Now I've got an entire floor to run on my own, you bastard, why'd you have to leave...she sucked in a sharp breath and fought for calm...

     That's when she saw the damn thing. Great. A red light on the console blinked like a constantly winking eye, telling her what she could already bloody see.    

     One of the hundreds of power globes was out. Again. Might even be the same one she changed yesterday. There seemed to be an issue with the exchangers. She sighed, yet another probloem.     

     Stepping up to the console surrounding the generator like a protective outer ring, metal panel set with dials that measured changes within the core.

     It looked like today was going to be one of those days and Sacha's booted foot caught the edge of the worn step that led up to the generator, forcing her to look down and check she hadn't stepped on anything important that might set off alarms or threaten to blow them all to cinders.

     Her vision quickly adjusted to the darker shade of gloom that was barely lit by the generator and all the power globes set into the console...a flicker of illumination passed across the outer casing...