Untouched

40. Unknown

'I just can't get you out of my head...
I just can't get you out of my head...'  (Head, Dana Dentana)

The Naturalist fields shimmer various shades of green, brown and gold. I wish the cabins weren't hidden behind the trees. The boring mundane daily activities of my previous home now seem so appealing.

I want to watch everything. 

I want to see the bell ring. I want to watch the residents walk to the dining hall, observe them avoiding getting to close to their neighbours.

I haven't seen anyone walking to school. Is it the weekend or just too early?

My head is sore, and my eyes are red and puffy from all the crying I did last night. I woke early this morning, and I've been randomly selecting songs, listening only to ones which make my insides ache and match the misery I feel.

Turning the volume up, I continue to walk on the treadmill, wishing the exertion and loud music will drown out my thinking and stop me from sinking into a state of hopelessness. I want to still believe I can escape this place.

The door behind me opens, and Ben walks in pushing a rattling trolley which I don't bother looking at. Instead, I turn my head to inspect the hallway past him. A long grey hallway with multiple outlines of doors is swiftly blocked out by the opaque sliding door.

Are there more like me? Is this whole hallway full of test subjects forced into participating?

Ben picks up the screen perched on the edge of the treadmill and lowers the volume. 'I see you've worked out how to use the treadmill.'

I'm not a complete idiot. I can press buttons and figure out what they do just like a Techie can.

'I've got more food for you.' Ben retrieves several containers from the trolley and places them in the fridge.

'Your microwave doesn't work. It made my food explode yesterday.' My breathing is heavy and ragged.

I'm really unfit.

'Did you loosen the lid?' He opens the door of the microwave and inspects the inside, which I tried to clean but is still covered in flecks of thick porridge.

'You didn't tell me to loosen it.' I frown.

Ben laughs, and I huff loudly. Pressing a button with a plus symbol, I start to walk faster. Ignoring Ben, who is staring at me, I focus out the window. I imagine I'm outside walking through my settlement, in the woods with Zach, beyond the wall. 

It's not the same. Not at all.

'This music is a bit depressing,' Ben says.

I didn't ask for your opinion. 'I like it.'

'You should choose more upbeat music to exercise too.' Ben picks up the screen and taps it as I continue walking to nowhere. 'You could make a playlist. I know it's a big thing with the younger ones. They like to share them and rate them. The more popular the playlist the more popular it makes them among their peers.'

Ben shakes his head as though he doesn't quite understand. Like he's forgotten what being a teenager is like, or maybe he wasn't allowed to be one due to the mass death from Virulence taking place around him at the time.

Then again, I can't identify with Techie teenagers, ratings and popularity. I had a total of seven friends, one I hated, the other was my brother, and another turned out to be a touching abuser. Also, in my social group, popularity was never much of an issue. What would we rate each other for? How good we are at maintaining maximal distance from each other? Or how many weeds we picked in an hour? I'm not sure being the best at either of those is something to be proud of.