In a nightmare world ravaged by misery, the Imperium offers utopia to a select few. When Arya and Everett are recruited into this elite society, they choose to leave their homes against their families' wishes.
Naive and young, Arya and Everett are...
The curved ceiling lights cast eerie silver-blue shadows across Everett's face. I find myself alternating between looking at him and glancing behind my shoulder as we walk down the narrow aisle.
Gradually, the plain walls on either side morph into clear glass partitions sectioned into many cells. The rooms are occupied by small groups of citizens dressed in deep violet suits, a sharp contrast to the Foreman's pale blue suit, etched in my memory. The citizens fastidiously operate familiar-looking glass slabs, too preoccupied to pay us any heed.
Soon, we are confronted by a heavy black door at the end of the hallway. Before pushing it open, Everett links his fingers through mine. I feel his pulse pounding at his wrist, mirroring the pace of my own.
The ominous dark door leads to a serpentine staircase that winds downward, leading to unseen depths. Discomfort causes my stomach to churn as Everett and I silently descend the stairs. Here, the mechanized hum is completely drowned out, its place taken by a pure silence that coils around my bones like icy tendrils.
Climbing down, I realize that my adrenaline is slowly draining, leaving my legs weak and my mind cloudy. By the time we finally reach the bottom of the stairs, the wound on my hand is bleeding again, and I'm leaning heavily on Everett, overcome by an enormous sense of weakness.
"Hang on, Arya. We're going to get you some help," he says shakily, unable to mask the anxiety in his voice. I let him lead me further into the poorly-lit maze with my eyes half-closed. But I force myself to pay attention to my surroundings when Everett mutters under his breath, "What is this place?"
The simple act of raising my head to look around feels as insurmountable as wrestling a brick wall. When I finally manage to direct my gaze to my left, I notice a vast space bathed in semi-darkness that induces the same feeling of recognition that the sight of Lorelai's sister had.
There's an illegible engraving on the wall — words that linger tantalizingly close to my recollection, but at this moment, I can't exert myself enough to retrieve the memory. A feeble sigh escapes my lips as the words slither back into the dark recesses of my mind, and the room disappears from my view when Everett leads me forward.
After walking a few paces, I can no longer fight the urge to sink to my knees. But Everett holds me up steadily with one strong arm, softly patting my cheek with his other palm.
"Look, there's an open room here!"
I allow myself to be half-led, half-carried into the room, trying to take in any detail I can through hooded eyes: elegant, curved white tables; a plush smoke-gray fabric covering the floor; tall black square-shaped structures stacked against the walls, each with their own small doors.
"Arya, stay with me please," Everett says, seating me on the nearest table gingerly. His voice quivers with desperation as he glances at the black structures behind him and mutters, "I'm going to see if I can find anything to help you. Just . . . Hold on, okay?"
He starts throwing random doors open — too panic-stricken to be discrete — and rummages through each black square before moving on to the next.
Suddenly, there is a tense beat of silence before Everett says, so quietly that I almost don't hear him, "It's us."
"W-what?" I manage to ask, trying to climb to a stand only to helplessly crash onto the table again.
"Arya, wait! Please just stay there," he begs before turning back to the objects inside the box. "These are . . . Records of us, and—"
Everett trails off as though something else has caught his attention. A few moments later, his voice turns ice-cold. "What the fuck?"
A shudder runs through my body at the distress in his tone. This time, I can't even form the words to ask for an explanation. Instead, I groan as the world tilts on its axis, a painful thump, thump, thump resonating inside my skull.
It takes me a second to realize that there is now a third voice in the room — a voice full of austerity, speaking words that fail to register.
Then, without warning, the remainder of my energy drains away and the last thing I see is the Foreman, striding straight towards Everett.
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I managed to make another quick update! As always, thanks so much for reading!
I want to know how you're doing during quarantine. How are you keeping yourself busy? I spend my time doing school work, writing, hanging out with my family at home, watching Netflix, and spending hours playing PAC-MAN from the 30th Anniversary Google doodle.
Anyway, let me know how you're doing! I'd love to hear from you guys.
