Trench

Eight

Vialism lectures had never been so boring in his entire life. Clancy drew swirls on his page of notes as he listened, half-heartedly scrawling something down to appear as though he was paying attention. This was the last assignment of the day, and then it was off to mandatory worship and straight to curfew. He wished he could skip worship and hide up in the room with the typewriter, but he could tell Keons was watching him closer now, and knew he would notice his absence if he failed to attend.

He risked a glance out the window and saw two Watchers staring back at him. They couldn't know his thoughts. That was impossible, wasn't it? But he had thought smearing was impossible, too, until he'd seen a public smearing nearly a year ago. It was a peculiar and frightening sight, though at the time, he hadn't understood why. Now, he did. When he had looked into the mirror this morning as he was shaving, he'd startled himself into dropping his razor blade and nicking his jaw. He'd seen the same light in his eyes in someone else - in two people, a young woman and a man, the two who had been smeared in the square the year prior. Their Bishop had slowly snuffed out that light, leaving nothing but cold ashes in their eyes. He'd seen them a few days later, and they had both thanked their Bishop for saving them and teaching them the way of righteousness. It had been an example to show everyone that they were safe; to show that if they had invasive, inappropriate thoughts like those two had, all they had to do was inform their Bishop and he would fix them.

Clancy had been tempted more than once to approach Keons and tell him his thoughts, but the thought of being smeared terrified him. Though it had been almost calm, it had seemed to him that the Bishop was strangling them. The two in the square had gone rigid as if in pain, and had then relaxed like they'd been drugged. Though he was curious, he had no desire to know what that felt like. Besides, he wanted to figure things out for himself. He didn't want to fall back in his Bishop's help.

But when he'd seen the light in his own eyes, a deep sense of terror had rooted itself in his stomach. What would they do if they found out? Would they smear him and get it over with, or would he be punished? He'd tried to conceal it - he'd tried desperately to hide the hope in his eyes, but it was no use. He knew others could see it, and he knew that that was the reason the Watchers kept their eyes on him at all times.

From the front of the room, his Bishop mentioned the Assemblage that was to occur in ten days. He already dreaded attending, but if there was one event he absolutely couldn't miss, it was the Assemblage. He only wished there was some way to avoid it.

He found himself scribbling disconnected words and phrases down on his page as his mind tried to stay clear in a hurricane of thoughts. He couldn't stop, even when his hand began to cramp up. He couldn't hear his Bishop speak anymore. All he heard was the deafening roar or silence.

Life is meaningless. You are insignificant. They will find you. They will find you. It's all pointless. Life is meaningless. Live to be Glorified. Live to die. Get out. The compass lies. Get out. The compass lies. Get out get out get out get out

His heart was thudding like a war drum in his chest. He couldn't see clearly anymore. He could barely breathe at all. The air caught in his throat. All he could focus on was the black ink against the white page, dirty blood smeared across his soul, across the perfect, perfect streets of Dema -

He hit the floor with a muffled thump, and suddenly someone was touching him, holding him with gentle but firm hands. Keons. For a moment, he nearly panicked, thinking he was being smeared, but the Bishop was holding his shoulders, not his neck, and had silently knelt beside him. The world tipped and tumbled around him and nearly hit his head on the floor, only saved by his Bishop. His hands and knees were shaking almost to the point where could no longer hold himself up. He could breathe now, but his breaths were short and ragged, making his head spin. He tried to look around, but everything was doubled and he squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for it to be over soon.