C0NV3RG3 (Sequel to M3RG3)

Chapter 9

Lyla

Sunday

Normally, I enjoyed Creativity Class, but my mind was overly preoccupied with my past, my sister, and Arista. I wouldn't be able to move around as freely after getting a job inside the Republic, which meant the chances of finding Layla would decrease. I raised my Tabloid again. 10:50. Only ten more minutes until I was free.

The pencil marks of my drawing were all rough and harsh. Hasty and uneven lines were stretched across the page, converging together to create a makeshift geometrical shape. From afar, the rough and harsh strokes turned into scattered shadows; the hashed pencil lines a sealed and barren room. The walls were chipped and washed away, the floor thin and uneven. There wasn't any furniture, but the drawing already portrayed enough. This was my home.

"Is that an abstract drawing?" Rebecca peered over my shoulder, curiosity prominent in her features.

"Sort of," I replied, adding a few more strokes to the image.

"There's a lot of anger and frustration there. I mean, you were a bit impatient today." Rebecca stated with the ghost of a smile on her face. "You know what? I'll let you off early."

"Wait, really?" I raised an eyebrow at Rebecca. "Isn't that against the rules?"

"For a gifted student like you, no." She smiled, gesturing towards the door. "Enjoy your time off."

"Thanks." Leaping to my feet, I snagged my Tabloid and jogged out of the room. It was now 10:55.

"We aren't going to run through every inch of the Republic Headquarters," I muttered. "Where do you think Layla would go?"

Well, she was the top student when she got picked, so it's bound to be some academic based job.

"A teacher then?" I started heading in the direction of the teacher's lounge.

Wait. My footsteps halted. Arista's presence was surprisingly dominating; she was growing more powerful every single day. It was only a matter of time before she would become fully conscious and take over Astrid. She was monitoring my simulation back then. She also gave me therapy when I started 'thinking out of the box'.

"What's that room called again, the serum advancement room?" It was mentioned somewhere in the letter.

The serum advancement room. Arista confirmed. Do you know where it is?

"Sounds like a forbidden room where only 'advanced' Republic members can enter," I muttered.

That sounds about right. Do you have a map or blueprint of the Republic headquarters?

"No," I replied, my eyes studying the blinking holographic sign that said 'Dining Room'. Suddenly, my Tabloid pinged, and the words 'Lunchtime' appeared on the screen.

"It's a requirement for everyone to eat in the dining room, right?"

Oh right. Arista nodded. Sometimes, I forget how lucky I am that Astrid didn't get my brains. She would probably be failing every single class by now.

"Shut up," I groaned, very tempted to roll my eyes. "Layla's the smart one, not me."

I've seen your work. It takes a combination of smarts and hard work to accomplish what you've done. Arista admitted. I probably had some smarts, but I gave in less than half of your effort.

"Doesn't matter, you stopped a genocide. If you weren't involved in the Merging Process, the Revolution would be celebrating and placing you on a pedestal by now, labelling you as Arista the hero." I shrugged. "What would I be? Lyla, the smart person who gets good grades?"

Yes, I stopped a genocide. But I indirectly killed a friend and broke someone's trust. I think that evens out the good things I did. Besides, you see what happens to everyone who gets good grades: They live a life of luxury and comfort. It's a good life.

"Good grades don't grant you a good life," I mumbled, lengthening my strides so I could get to the dining room faster. "I couldn't be a doctor if I tried."

But you won't starve to death. Arista pointed out. Your family was poor, so of course, education was their priority. Not that they care anyway. She added in hastily.

"It doesn't matter, because you're going to become a legend while I do all the dirty work," I grumbled, my words highlighting the finality of the situation.

You do realize that we are three people living in one body, right? So, we can't do different careers simultaneously. If we did, that would be downright weird.

"True," I murmured. During breakfast, lunch and dinner, the room was packed with Republicans. They would all sit in their usual seats, hands rested on the white linen fabric as they waited for their food to be served. Idle chatter would fill the air, and the scent of exotic foods would be wafting all across the room. Even now, I felt under-dressed in my Republican blue hoodie and dark green jogging pants. Still, it didn't matter. I was here to find her: A nineteen-year-old woman with fiery red hair, sapphire blue eyes and a willowy frame. Hopefully, with Arista's help, I could find her before the lunch period ended.

Hastily ordering my food, I began squeezing my way past tables, eyes scanning for the one person I had lost. The person I was going to find.

There were an array of colours: blonde, brown, black, auburn, chocolate, but no fiery red.

There! Arista yelled, forcing me to swivel my head in her direction. Within the array of colours, a blur of red was striding away, her dark blue heels sinking into the red carpet. A surge of adrenaline overpowered me, and I was dashing my way past crowds of people, shoving away blurs of colour, each step bringing me closer to her. My fingers brushed the hem of her trench coat before I was pushed back by the mob of Republicans. It was now or never.

I crouched down, propelling myself forward. A multitude of boots, heels, sandals and shoes blocked my way. She was walking away right in front of me, and I couldn't stop her.

No! Arista screamed, her frustration dragging me forward. Together, we raced, step by step, towards the finish line.

Both of us grabbed a fistful of her trench coat, forcing Layla to a stop. At that moment, the world froze. All I could see was Layla's hair burning under the light, flickering and alive. Then, my Tabloid buzzed, snapping me out of my trance. Layla gradually turned over, her eyes wide in shock before morphing into surprise, and suspicion. The blue in her eyes was more prominent than ever, and all I could think of was how little she had changed. The arched eyebrow, the pursed lips, the upturned nose. However, I was the one that had changed. Still, I hoped she could see me, the real me, beyond the Astrid the Republic regarded me as.

"Layla," I breathed out. "It's me, Lyla."

Her sapphire eyes blinked back at me, wide and still in shock. Slowly, realisation dawned on her features, and her eyes twinkled with curiosity and wonder.

"Astrid?" She asked.

Next update: 8th March