Trench

Sixteen

Somehow, the Week of Silence wasn't as bad as it usually was. Tyler decided that he suddenly felt calm now due to the pill he had taken for three days. Deep down, he knew something wasn't quite right, but the thought was easy to dismiss. He felt calm and relaxed, and he hadn't had a headache since. How could that be bad?

He headed down to his assignment for the day in pleasant numbness. Everything was perfect now, and he couldn't imagine why he had wanted to leave in the first place. He had everything he needed - food, clothes, consistency, and a Bishop who cared about him. There was nothing out there that was better than this.

The hallway was deserted, and though that should have been concerning, he shrugged the thought away and continued on as usual. He didn't want to be late, and dwelling on something insignificant would certainly cause him to be tardy. Besides, there was nothing to worry about in Dema. The Bishops always had everything under control.

He turned the corner and froze. A door stood open in the hallway - one that he'd never seen open before. In fact, he couldn't recall ever seeing a door there in the first place. He needed to report that to the Bishops, and yet something in the back of his mind told him to go look inside.

He shook his head violently and forced his eyes to leave the door. He couldn't do that. That would only bring trouble to his peaceful life, and that was the last thing he wanted. But as he started to walk away, a nagging voice urged him to take a peek, only fueling his curiosity. It's just a little look, he told himself. It's not like anyone will know. Carefully, he reached forward and opened the door just a little further.

Stairs. That was all that was behind the door, and he couldn't help but feel disappointed. For a moment, he had thought that maybe he'd discovered something special, something exciting. He shook his head again, harder this time. He didn't need excitement. Excitement was poisonous. After all, that was what the Bishops always said. It made the heart race, and that kind of feeling was reserved only for respect, though the longer Tyler thought about it, the more he began to wonder if that feeling was actually fear instead. He certainly feared the Bishops.

All this thinking made his head hurt, and he started to turn away, but something in his chest urged him upward, and before he knew it, he was climbing the stairs, his heart racing with fear. He stepped into a small room with nothing but a desk and a chair, and his eyes immediately locked onto the typewriter on the table. That was odd. Typewriters belonged in classrooms and offices, not in strange abandoned rooms.

"I shouldn't be in here," he muttered, and then his eyes widened and he slammed his hand over his mouth. He had just spoken during the Week of Silence, the most sacred week of the entire year. Surely the Bishops had heard it. What was this room doing to him?

He turned to run down the stairs, but his eyes landed on a satchel sitting in the corner of the room. His body moved against his will, forcing him to kneel down and open the bag. A crumpled piece of paper sat on top, and he picked it up and skimmed through the note, and suddenly his breath hitched in his throat.

Am I the only one who realizes that we've been lied to? Am I the only one not afraid of the notion that the nine have hijacked our trust, and extinguished the hope that once motivated our existence?

Whatever he had expected, this was much, much worse. Suddenly, he was in possession of outright blasphemy. What would they do if they caught him with this? He would be punished severely; that much was certain. His panic eased slightly as he noticed the signature at the bottom. At least now they would know that the writing belonged to someone else.

He jumped to his feet as an idea suddenly hit him. He had to report this to the Bishops - all of it. If he had found this room, nothing would stop someone else from doing the same, and that could cause absolute chaos.

Excitement.

He flew down the stairs two at a time, the paper crumpled tight in his fist. He threw the door shut behind him and he raced through the streets of Dema, heading to his Bishop's office in the church. His Bishop would surely be grateful that he had reported it, but even so, he couldn't keep the fear and doubt from creeping into his chest.

His knuckle cracked as he knocked on the door, so he sucked on it to stop the bleeding, shifting his weight from foot to foot. Why was he nervous? He had no reason to be. He was only doing his duty as a loyal citizen of Dema.

The door opened slowly, and Tyler swallowed hard as he was met with the shrouded eyes of his Bishop. The robed figure stared at him without saying a word, and Tyler suddenly realized that he had never approached a Bishop during the Week of Silence, and he had no idea what to do. Slowly, he held the paper out toward him, his hand trembling.

The Bishop watched him for a moment, and then took the page and unfolded it. Instantly, his brow furrowed and he hunched over slightly. Tyler shifted again, rubbing his wrists in an attempt to calm his nerves, and waited for a response.

"Thank you for telling me," the Bishop finally said, his voice raspy and soft. "You are dismissed."