You have about twenty minutes before they discover this door is unlocked.” James taps a code on the outside of my room and then turns to walk down the hall.
I release a sigh. Talking about John depleted the little energy I had. My head aches and my body feels as if it weighs three hundred pounds. But I have an open door and twenty minutes. I throw my legs over the side of the sleeping platform and lean my head into my hands to stop the spinning. I drink the last of the water from my glass. I stand. Slowly. I am nauseous, dizzy, weak. But Alex is here somewhere. Kristie is here. I do not know what is being done to them, but I know it is not good. We must reunite and escape. Right now, I am their best hope for that.
I force my legs to move, to walk, willing my unused muscles to wake up. I focus on the door, then the hallway. I look in each room. They have people in them, working. From their appearance, I would guess it is those from Pod B, the generation ahead of ours. If they notice me, they do not acknowledge it. They are focused on communications pads, tapping commands, completing tasks. I pass the final door and am stopped in my tracks. I go back.
The woman in this room looks very much like me. Just older. Though her hair is just above her shoulders and mine hangs halfway down my back, it is the same brownish blond, thick with waves, just like mine. She looks up from her communications pad, and my own eyes look back at me. My heart beats faster. Hers are as wide as I’m sure mine are—blue-green, framed with dark eyelashes.
But, unlike me, there is no curiosity in her eyes. They widened, I realize, not out of surprise, but because she needed to adjust her vision from the up-close interaction with her pad and the faraway interaction with me. She looked up just because movement caught her eye. She returns now to her work.
After months in New Hope and Athens, I have forgotten what people in the State are like, what “normal” is here. Programmed to be without emotions or curiosity, I was an anomaly. This woman behaved exactly the way the Scientists—James Turner—designed her to behave: working in her assigned field in order to maintain productivity in the State.
I walk on. I do not miss being around people who have no feelings. I do, however, miss my field, my job. As the pod Musician, I was able to play an instrument every day. I created music, played music written by others, mastered dozens of instruments. My music aided the others, increased their productivity, stimulated their brains. I am not sure why I am here now, but it is not as a Musician.
I shake my head to clear these thoughts. Five minutes have passed, and I am doing nothing but looking in windows at people who cannot help me, people who do not know that they need help. I need to find Alex and Kristie. I see the door leading to a staircase. I push away thoughts of Berk and me in this staircase. I cannot be distracted by that now. But the images come anyway—Berk holding me, leading me out to the water reservoirs, me playing my violin for him. I do not know how memories can be painful and beautiful at the same time, but these are.
I reach the top of the stairs and pause. I am breathing too loudly. I have to quiet down before I move into the hall on this floor. I draw in a deep breath. In through my nose, out through my mouth. My heart slows to a normal rhythm. I open the door, allowing only my head through.
No one is in the hallway. These rooms are filled with what I am sure are those from Pod A. The first generation of the State. The Scientists must have moved everyone to their headquarters to conserve oxygen. Before I left, Pod C—my friends, my generation—was annihilated because they were using too much of the precious gas. I swallow hard at the injustice of that. They could have been moved here. Or taken above. They could be at New Hope right now, living, breathing, working. But Loudin did not consider that. Did not allow for that. To him people are expendable. Replaceable.
All the more reason to find a way out of here.
I pass by the next-to-last door and look in, expecting to see yet another member of Pod A hard at work. But I do not see a member of Pod A. I see Alex.
I rush to the door and push the handle. Locked. Of course. But the movement causes Alex to look up. He moves to me so quickly, he almost falls over the tray of food on the floor beside his chair. He tries to open the door. I am sure he recognizes the futility in that attempt, but it is natural. His gaze finds mine and we both stop moving. Fear radiates from those crystal-blue eyes. But there is joy too. And relief.
“Are you all right?”
I can barely hear him through the thick door. I nod.
“Did they let you out?”
I shrug. “Not exactly.”
Alex places his hand on the glass. I lift mine to his. “Can you get me out?”
I look around for something that would break the glass, but there is nothing in this sterile hallway. “I can’t stay long.”
Alex’s eyes widen. “Why?”
“They don’t know I’m gone.”
There are too many questions in Alex’s eyes. I cannot even begin to answer them all. “We have to find Kristie and escape.”
“How?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out.” I pull my hand away, then place it back on the glass once more. “I’ll find a way out. I will.”
Alex leans his forehead against the glass, closes his eyes. I cannot stop to do the same. I cannot allow errant thoughts and emotions in my mind and heart right now. I have five minutes to return to my room before I am caught. I turn from Alex and walk back down the hallway.
I am too late.