Life in reform is a repetitive cycle—work, eat, work, sleep—I crave the outside world not for freedom, the thing I thought I’d miss the most, but variety. Being able to change my plans or go somewhere new. Although, I suppose it’s all a kind of freedom in the end.
We shuffle in single file along the steel walkway above the pit. I try to count how many shifts I’ve completed, but I keep losing track. Is it ten or twenty? Time’s a blur here. Dani walks ahead, gazing around at the multicoloured steam jetting into the air. A warden ahead catches my eye—Ike gives me a single nod, almost imperceptible. But I’ve been waiting for this for days. My heart flutters in my chest at the possibilities. Who is Ike able to help first, Dani or Caleb?
The line moves forward one person at a time, filing away in different directions towards the workstations below. When I come level with Ike, he taps me on the elbow. “Chase, you’re with me.”
I follow him down a connecting walkway immediately, although there’s nothing in my system commanding me anymore.
Since my run in with Harding, they have only given me the normal dosage of Compliance, and whilst it makes me uncomfortable for the first hour or so, it doesn’t seem to have much of an effect. Whether that’s because of something biological or I’m just too stubborn, who knows? Maybe it’s like hypnotism—it only works if you believe it will. Either way, I’ve done what I can to keep the fact quiet, and play like I’m affected, just like everyone else. It woudn’t do to get Harding suspicious again.
Ike shows me to a workstation and leans forward to whisper a command to me. This part is a little more difficult—without the Compliance to put me on autopilot, I need to really pay attention to the task at hand.
“Empathy. No recipe today, just place the label on the bottles, hand it onwards for sterilising,” Ike says, motioning to the supplies laid out before me. A segmented tray holds two stacks of labels. The front design bears the large Emotiv symbol, and a pink square labelled ‘Empathy’. Underneath, the tagline reads; ‘Eliciting feelings of social unity, this syrup imparts the patron with emotional clairvoyance’. The back design lists the many, many ingredients that my fellow inmates will spend the day mindlessly adding to the bottles.
Barely a single patron ever ordered this drink in my brief stint working at the cafe. The staff used it more than anyone else—it was a nice way to speed up the workflow. You could dose yourself in the morning and by the time your first customer reached the till, you’d already know what they wanted. Back then, I thought it was magic. I never put any thought into how these things were made. I just assumed it was an automated factory somewhere. Every other worker probably thought the same way. Maybe even the VIPs too.
I let out a breath and allow myself to relax. Labels I can do.
Ike walks down the line, muttering orders to each inmate.
A gentle cough to my right. “Hello again, young miss.”
I do my best not to react too suddenly—it’s taken days, probably weeks, to get posted with John again. If the other wardens realised how happy that made me, they’d move me in a heartbeat. “Hello,” I say flatly, though I’m sure I can’t totally hide my relief.
“Looks like we have a little longer today,” John says as the conveyor belt turns on with a jolt.
I nod, pausing as a warden paces behind us. They walk in circles, only a few minutes apart at most. It’s easy enough to hold a hushed conversation, so long as you stop while they’re in earshot. Bennett says there’s no audio surveillance in the pit—something to do with the steam, or the noise. As it’s one of the few areas in reform where the walls don’t have ears, we make most deals and plans during our shifts.
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“How are you?” I ask once the warden has passed us.
John shrugs, grabbing a short hose with a shower attachment and washing the belt down. “How are any of us? I was with Dani earlier in the week.” His forehead creases in concern. “I’m truly sorry to see them like that.”
I suck in a lungful of air, willing the tears to stay at bay for now. There’s no time for crying, too much to do. There’s still a few minutes before the first bottles will reach our station. I lean closer to John. “Can I ask about my brother?”
Those blue eyes meet mine, reading a mixture of panic and confusion. “Your brother?”
“You might not have met him but… His name’s Caleb. He looks, well, like me. Brown hair, brown eyes…” I silently curse our genes for being so dull. “Super pale—”
John shakes his head. “I’m not sure. I’m sorry.”
My stomach sinks. I’d been so sure that John would have answers for me, that he’d somehow know where Caleb was, be able to offer me some sort of comfort. I swallow the dryness on my tongue and nod, faking a tight smile for John’s benefit. “Okay, no worries.”
“I’m truly sorry, Miss. I’ll keep an eye out for him.”
Another warden passes behind us, glaring suspiciously. John focuses on washing down the belt, and the first few bottles reach his station. He hoses them down and passes them through a heated dryer. When they come to me, they’re scorching to the touch. I stick the front label on and flip the bottle over, hissing at the sting on my fingertips.
As I attach the back label to the bottle, John catches my eye again. “Head to the storeroom right after our shift. There’s a message for you.”
The rest of the shift passes in a hazy blur. By the time the wardens yell for us to stop, my hands are bright red, numbed by the repetitive heat of the steamed bottles. I inspect them with a grimace. Though they’re not blistered, I’ve probably lost my fingerprints. Good time to rob a bank, I think with a humourless chuckle.
An order comes for us to return to our bunks, and we turn as one and march from the pit in single file. I fall in at the back of the line as quickly as I can, and glance about at the path ahead—the line files past the furthest storeroom before climbing the steps to the suspended walkway. If my timing is lucky enough, I should be able to duck inside as they walk past.
As I step closer to the storeroom door, it opens a crack, only enough for me to see Ike’s face peering from inside. I take one last glance about the pit—the nearest warden is guarding the steps, counting heads as inmates pass. Another stands on the walkways above my head, barking orders. I quickly sidestep and slip inside the door, praying that nobody noticed me.
Ike shuts the door behind me and slides a bolt shut. He turns on a torch, illuminating our faces in the dim room. “How are you?”
I nod. “Coping. Thank you for posting me with John today.”
“Sorry it took so long. Did you find out what you needed?”
I can’t find the words to reply. Tears threaten to fall again, but I’ve got pretty damn good at holding them back. Still, Ike notices my expression, and his face falls.
“Shit. I’ve heard nothing, either. I’m sorry, Kyla.”
“It’s okay. I’ll keep trying.” I lean back against the wall, trying to ignore my throbbing feet. “John said you had a message for me?”
Ike stiffens. “Yes. From Frank.”
I resist the urge to roll my eyes and wait for him to continue.
“Two messages, in fact.” Ike takes something from his trouser pocket and motions for me to hold out my hands.
The moment my palm opens, he drops a small vial of grass-green liquid into it. A spark ignites in my chest, filling my body with a sudden warmth. “Composure?”
A small smile. “Concentrated. Should be enough to sort Dani out until we’re done.”
I pocket the vial with a frown. “Done with what?”
“With getting you out, of course.”
I’m glad I’m leaning against the wall, because the moment my brain is done processing what he’s just said, my legs turn to jelly. “Out?”
“You didn’t think Frank was just gonna let you all rot in here, did you?”
To be honest, yeah, I kind of did. At least, me and Caleb, for sure. I figured he’d get Dani out, and that thought was a comfort to me. But I hadn’t really expected him to get us all freed. It seemed silly to expect of a man who barely knew me.
Ike smiles pityingly at my expression. “He’s a good man, Kyla.”
“Yeah,” I murmur. “I’m learning that. So what’s the plan?”