Trench

Øne

I think I long for something, but I don't know what.

It was something he had been thinking about rather frequently, and it disrupted his focus during the day and prevented him from sleeping at night.

Today, they were studying Vialism. He tried to focus, but now that his intrusive thoughts had rooted themselves in his mind, he barely heard a word that was spoken. Instead of taking notes, he spun the pen across his fingers and stared out the window, his chin in his other hand.

The walls were taller than he remembered. Had they grown larger over the past few years? That couldn't be it. Perhaps another region was building it higher. He was too low to catch a glimpse over the wall today, but he caught sight of the Watcher perched on top, staring at him with its beady eyes, and he quickly returned his attention to the lecture. But after only a few short moments, his mind wandered again, until a grey hand rested on his desk and startled him out of his thoughts.

He instantly froze and slowly looked up in acknowledgement. He met the cloaked Bishop's eyes for a split second before dropping his gaze to the hem of his robe.

"Are you listening?" the Bishop asked softly.

The others in the room had their eyes on him now, and he felt a flutter of nervousness in his chest. He swallowed hard and nodded. "I'm trying, sir," he mumbled. He was afraid to tell the Bishop what he'd been thinking. He was afraid to tell him that today, he was a failure.

"Speak up."

He nodded again and repeated himself. "I'm trying to listen, sir," he said, a little louder.

The Bishop watched him for a long moment, and he began to sweat nervously. He would do almost anything to avoid becoming a disappointment. He didn't want to become like the last man, who had suddenly lost all focus and then disappeared, never to be heard of again. He yearned to make his Bishop proud, just like all of the others in his sector. With the way the Bishop watched him now, it seemed like he was becoming another nuisance.

At last, the Bishop spoke. "Then continue in your efforts. Someday, you will find focus. You all will. Then you will truly be worthy to represent our sector in the Assemblage."

He just nodded once more and avoided looking up.

"And put the pen down. Perhaps that will help."

But he found his fingers felt empty without it, so he put his hands in his lap to hide it.

The others' eyes stayed on him for the rest of the lecture, though not all at once. He stayed staring at the floor, pretending he didn't notice their stares. If he told anyone about these suddenly intrusive thoughts, nothing could stop them from twisting and exaggerating them, and then he could get in serious trouble for something he didn't even understand. He had to banish them by himself. That was the hardest part, especially as he hadn't the slightest idea how to do it.

He glanced up at the chalk board and instantly, three others quickly averted their eyes. He wanted to ask them why they were staring at him. He thought about it for a moment and realized that he really just wanted to ask why. Why was he here? Why did he arrive at these lectures and complete these tasks every day with no thought whatsoever? And why had the Bishop seemed almost threatened by him when he caught him staring out the window? Why silence? Why order? And who was he?

He realized he was staring out the window once again, the questions racing through his mind. He sat up a little taller, but he still couldn't see past the wall. What was out there, beyond the looming walls of Dema? What were they keeping out? What were they keeping in?