Food

Velise and new character interact.

One of the worst sounds in the world when I was a teenager was an alarm. I hated what it meant. The start of another day of school, of obligation. And more importantly, the end of the rest that I often couldn’t get enough of back then. Between the insomnia and the all-nighters, I constantly felt like I was a zombie, shuffling around in an exhausted daze, looking for energy to consume in the form of copious amounts of caffeine.

And as it turns out, that’s one part of my personality that hasn’t changed.

The second I start to hear the alarm sound off in the room, I want to throw something at the source. But when I can’t find said source through my bleary eyed gaze, I settle for flopping back down and trying to block it out.

It doesn’t work.

Next thing I know, I hear rustling in the room and shoot up, looking around quickly to see what’s managed to get in here with me. I was used to sleeping outside, where bugs, critters, and machines were a constant threat to my belongings and well-being. And as such, old habits die hard.

I relax slightly when I realize that it’s my roommate getting ready for the day. He must’ve just showered, because his raven colored locks were sticking to his face. I squinted, looking at him a little closer. He wasn’t paying attention to me at all, probably thinking I was still asleep, and I was fine with that. He was in the bathroom, but the door was open. So I could see him brushing his teeth. He looked as tired as I did, dark circles highlighting the dull emerald of his eyes. And after every spit, he’d clench his jaw before putting the tooth brush back in. Like he was uncomfortable, or in pain. Odd.

He wasn’t as unkempt as I’d expect from a fellow prisoner, but he also had a bit of a rugged look regardless. His hair was longer than what I was used to seeing, going down his neck in a shaggy, messy, sort of way. Though, it probably wasn’t typically as long as it was right now, not when it was dry. He had wavy hair, like mine. Which meant it had a lot of layers, and a lot of fluff to it that made it look a bit shorter. Though, from the looks of it, he was getting annoyed with it. His hair kept getting in his face, and he kept slicking it back with his free hand to get it out of the way. He also had a bit of stubble to match the messy look, not enough to encroaching on beard territory, but enough to make him look unkempt. He looked older than his body and face suggested. In all actuality, I’d guess not older than late twenties, but something about his eyes made him seem like he’d lived lifetimes.

Though, maybe that was the fatigue talking. He really did look exhausted.

He spit a final time and wiped with the hand towel before turning his attention to me.

“I’m going to work. Don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone.”


I blinked, not expecting the sudden statement? People left the rooms? Regularly? Good to know.

“What do you mean by work? We have jobs here in our little prison?”

One day of knowing him, and I was already starting to get used to his consistent sighs. It felt like disappointment just constantly oozed out of him in one way or another.

“Yes, we do. And you will too once you’re healed. You’ll probably have a week, maybe two, before they expect you to participate.”

I scoffed.

“A week? With injuries like this? I’m dealing with at least a couple broken fingers, several bruised ones, and I still have no idea what the hell that Enforcer did to my foot.”

“They’ve done a lot of medical advances in here since the Uprising. A few doses of Serum and you’ll be fine.”

“Excuse me? What’s-”

“Look, I’m not a doctor. I have no idea what’s actually in it, but the Medics have been using it for awhile now, and they’re constantly improving the formula. Once administered, it basically speeds up the body’s healing process. Depending on the dose, by a lot. I’ve seen people with arms facing the wrong way in an accident be fully functional again in two weeks. No pain, no sign of a break. So my guess is your collection of injuries will take less than that.”

He was snippy, which was annoying, but also informative, which was useful.

“Okay, well what job would I be doing? After healed.”

I watched as he adjusted the sleeve on his shirt, it was fitting a little tight in the arm when he flexed it. I still had no idea how someone could have an athletic build like that in a place like this. He wasn’t bodybuilder status, but he could probably manage his own well enough with a respectable amount of weight.

“Since you were paired with me in the same room, we’ll have the same job. Mechanic.”

I blinked. I had a feeling that wouldn’t mean what first came to mind when I thought of that. Mechanics were an outdated term for my generation. Self driving cars could do most repairs themselves, and any malfunctions were handled by Repairers. Well, before everything went to s**t.

“Are you going to elaborate, or…”

Another sigh. I swear, if I turned that into a drinking game, I’d be hammered within half an hour. Granted, I was a lightweight, but still, the sentiment stood.

“I really don’t have time to go over all of this. Besides, you’ll find out for yourself in a week or two.”

“Yeah, that’s not exactly good enough. You can’t just say Mechanic and leave without explaining. That’s not a real answer.”

Oh, I got an eye roll this time. He was mixing it up.

“Mechanics are responsible for the jobs that Repairers don’t have time for. Mainly putting together the frames they fix. Assembling Patrollers usually. Sometimes a big project will come in that we’ll all work on together, but it’s rare.”

I bristled at that. This man was seriously telling me, that the Patrollers I fought for the last seven years to escape, were being made by the captives? What the hell?

“Are you f*****g kidding me? You help them? You seriously slave away all day at your pathetic job to help the machines capture more humans? What’s wrong with you!? Besides, why don’t Repairers do it themselves? Wouldn’t that be way faster?”

“Yes, because clearly we’re given a choice in the matter.”

He paused and took a deep breath, as if he suddenly decided that being angry or sarcastic wasn’t worth it.

“Look, something you really need to get through your head about this place is that survival is all that’s left. There’s no freedom, no choosing, no fighting, and of course, no leaving. Ask anyone here, and they’ll tell you the same. Though I suspect we could all say it until we’re blue in the face, and you’ll still try to get out. New ones always do. And to answer your other question, no. Repairers don’t have time to do it themselves. They don’t just repair damaged frames and meld scrap together, they also make all of the materials that Builders use for Facilities. And each facility is absolute massive if you can’t tell. So, Repairers make the design, we put it together and make sure it’s working properly. Then, they’re taken away to the programming room where their instructions are downloaded. That’s a Mechanic’s job. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m about to be late.”

And with that, he went to the door, knocked three times, and it opened. An Enforcer was on the other side, ready to take him wherever the hell Mechanics worked. Meanwhile, I was left to think about what I just learned. And what I just saw.

Surely knocking doesn’t work at any time, but it does when that stupid alarm goes off. That’s my out. At least, out my out of the room, anyway. Okay, that’s a start. A really good start.

I thought about what he said again, the whole spiel on survival. It didn’t make me discouraged, it made me angry. I would never understand just accepting my circumstances like that. Okay, sure, did I have a bit of a freak out when I first got here? Yes. Did the panic of maybe being trapped here forever almost consume me? Also yes. Bur the difference is that I pushed that feeling down and used this awful situation to light a fire under my a*s. I wasn’t staying. I was getting out, or I was going to die trying. Because unlike the people here, I valued what made life living more than just the life itself. And if I couldn’t have that, if I couldn’t have my freedom, than the privilege of living and breathing meant nothing anyway, so why bother preserving it? I’d rather fight to the bitter end than live until I’m eighty-five in this place. Maybe that was reckless, maybe that was crazy, but I didn’t survive seven years without being caught by rolling over every time something turned challenging. That was cowardly, that was being truly reckless, in my book. Because that mentality followed the assumption than anyone was guaranteed another day. That rolling over was preserving one’s life.

I knew from experience that nothing was guaranteed in this world. My parents death was proof.

I sighed and flopped back on the bed. Feeling restless and yet physically fatigued. I always hated being injured. Not because of the pain, but because of the need for rest. I actually hoped that my roommate was right about what he said about some sort of Serum that sped up the healing process. I guess I’d find out at some point for myself. But for now I’d just need to… wait.

I guess that was the case for a lot of things. I’d need to wait for a Medic to give me the Serum,- barring that it was actually true- I’d need to wait to be healed up more before any attempts at escape, I’d need to wait for my roommate to return before I could ask any more questions.

I yawned and rolled onto my side. I guess I should go back to sleep. I wasn’t sure how early it was, but my body wasn’t exactly ready to be up yet. So, I closed my eyes, and was surprised to find I was out within minutes.

�-��-��-�

“Hey, get up. We’re heading down to the Cafeteria.”

I groaned and rolled over, feeling around for a pillow to throw over my face. Then I remembered that my stupid roommate had taken all the bedding. I huffed and peeked up at him. I felt particularly awful right now, and sleeping felt like a great way to avoid that. So to have someone interrupt had put me in a particularly foul mood. He didn’t seem to care.

“Come on. We don’t have long to get down there to eat. I was only given a five minute window to come get you. They won’t exactly be happy about me being here any longer than that. We’re managed under a tight leash.”

“Oh f**k off…”

I muttered, partially out of being grumpy from feeling like s**t, and partially out of my annoyance with the whole robot prisoner thing.

“Listen, you need food, and this is your only chance until this evening. Get up. Now.”

I was getting used to his lazy, I don’t care, tone, but I still flipped him off half-heartedly before sitting up. He didn’t seem too bothered by it.

“Come on, get dressed and let’s go. You’ll get in trouble for wearing pajamas.

I ran my hand down my face, trying to wake up. The promise of food helped a little, but the throbbing in my head seemed persistent, regardless of what I did.

Ugh, I feel hungover. What the hell did I do in my sleep that’s making my head feel like I downed a bottle of gin?

I got my answer in the form of my stomach growling at me.

Right… When I got caught, all I’d managed to shovel down was a protein bar, and I probably ran off that fuel just getting away from the Patroller. And I’ve been here for… what, three days? Two? Ugh, long enough for my body to rebel. Jeez.

I got to my feet shakily, feeling wobbly and off-balance. I would’ve fallen over if my roommate hadn’t helped steady me. I felt uneasy by the way he was looking at me. He was squinting, a small frown on his face. I couldn’t tell if he was thinking or judging me.

“Yeah, you’re really pale right now. And you’re trembling like a leaf. We need to get you some food.”

Oh. I guess he was just checking my coloring? Weird.

I wanted to insist that I could walk by myself just fine, but even my good leg felt like jello, and I didn’t feel like face planting right now. He kept a steady grip on my arm as we walked slowly to the door. My pride and need to reach food quickly were warring with each other. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that I was in such bad shape. Even before I got caught, I hadn’t eaten in two days. Which meant my total calorie intake for the past four or five days in total had been about three hundred. And I’d run at least two miles when the Patroller had chased me. No wonder I was sleeping so much. My body didn’t have enough energy to burn. Add my injuries on top of that, and it was a miracle I wasn’t passed out right now, dead to the world.

Perhaps it was dumb not to evaluate my surroundings when we left the room- escorted by an Enforcer- but my brain only had enough energy to focus on the promise of sustenance right now. Honestly, the whole walk blurred by. One second I was walking out of the room, the near, I was jolted back to reality by the sound of hundreds of voices blending together. It felt like high school all over again, entering the large, echoing, room that had way too many people jammed into it. And as it came into view, sure enough, I really wasn’t too far off in my assumption.

Nostalgia hit me like a wave as I saw the several rows of black benches that people were sitting at. There was at least twelve rows of the giant tables that stretched across the room, most already filled. It was strange seeing so many people all at once. Overwhelming, actually. I felt myself freeze as the hand on my arm tried to tug me forward gently.

I… I couldn’t go in there. I was… I was… I don’t even know what to call it. Maybe my brain could come up with a proper word when it actually had fuel to function, but there was this knot in my chest. A knot I felt every time I was around people. A knot that always crept up into my throat and made it hard to speak. A knot that tied around my limbs and forced them to still. It had been years since I was around this many people. Hell, it was rare for me to even come across one person in my years in the woods. And I usually avoided them then, anyway.

So to see hundreds…? Gods, it was… it was too much.

My vision tunneled again, and all I could see was the crowd in front of me, a crowd I desperately hoped to escape from. The only reason I knew that my roommate was still with me was because I felt him gently squeeze my arm to get my attention, and I heard his voice in a low whisper next to my ear when that still didn’t work.

“It’s okay, we can sit off to the side. We don’t need to be in the rows. Alright? Now, stay here. I’m gonna go grab us something.”

I couldn’t respond, could barely even process what he said. So, I just nodded, and a second later I felt the pressure on my arm release as he went off into the sea of people.

I must’ve blanked out for a second, whether from the stress or the hunger, I’m not sure, but next thing I remember is him returning with two trays full of hot food that made my mouth water.

He tilted his head towards the far left, gesturing for me to follow him. I did, though I admittedly moved much slower than him. It was so loud in here, I couldn’t hear myself think. I jumped every time I heard someone laugh or shout. This was a very different energy than what I was expecting from a prison Cafeteria.

I made it over to him and was relieved to see a tiny table that was empty. Granted, it was covered in dust and one of the legs was broken, but it was good enough for me. I sat down, my whole body sagging in relief now that it didn’t have to hold me up anymore. I was still shaking, which was getting rather annoying.

“Here. Eat.”

He set the tray full of food in front of me, and it took every ounce of willpower for me to not bury my face in it instantly. You got used to eating quickly and without utensils in the woods. But, here I had utensils, which meant I should probably use them.

I grabbed the plastic fork and debated over what to start with. It was all comfort food. Grilled chicken with seasoning that smelled amazing and spicy, mashed potatoes that looked creamy and full of butter, some sort of cheesy spinach dip that looked heavy with ingredients, and a sliced nectarine that was grabbing my attention. I started with a spoonful of mashed potatoes. The second I got the large glob in my mouth, my taste buds went nuts. It was like my whole body came alive and realized that yes, this is what it had needed. Fuel.

Under normal circumstances, maybe I’d be embarrassed by how quickly I was scarfing everything down, but social etiquette hadn’t been a part of my life in seven years, and right now I was way too hungry to care about anything but shoveling more food in my face hole.

“Slow down a little. You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

I glared at him, as if daring him to stop me from eating right now. I got a familiar sigh in response as he went back to slowly eating from his own plate.

When I’d finally scraped every last morsel of food from my tray, I sat back in my rickety chair, utterly content. My mind was much clearer now. It had been a long time since I’d had anything more than what I could find left over at old stores to run on. Typically junk food and protein bars, whatever hadn’t gone bad by now.

I found myself looking around at the sea of people surrounding me, not as overwhelmed by them anymore. I guess being isolated had affected me more than I thought. I mean, even before everything had happened, I’d never been very social. An only child who invested all her time in the track team didn’t make for much of a people person.

And yet… I guess after so many years alone, being around more than another person or two had felt… alien, to me. I looked around at all these faces, some my age, some twice that, and found myself wondering about each of their stories. Their hopes, their dreams, their families, their friends. Who were they all before this? And how long had they all been here?

And then my gaze went back to my roommate, wondering about his story. His hopes, his dreams, his family, his friends.

His name.

I blinked in surprise as I realized I didn’t know his name. I didn’t know anything about him, really. Though, logic said I really didn’t need to. Learning about the stranger I was only staying with until I busted out felt impractical. Especially since he’d made it rather clear that he had no motivation to leave at all. He was a passing ship, a temporary acquaintance, and yet… I was still curious.

“Hey, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

“I could say the same for you.”

Fair enough.

“Velise.”

He looked up, a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

“Like the luggage? You’re named after a suitcase?”

I prickled. Like I hadn’t heard that one before.

“For your information, my name is spelled with an E, not an A. Besides, my mom didn’t know that Valise was a thing until after naming me.”

He snickered, and I debated whacking him with my tray.

“Well, my name isn’t as fancy as yours…”

“Oh f**k you.”

A hint of a smile played on his face as he chewed a slice of nectarine, the most expression I’d seen from him.

“Casey. My name’s Casey. Nice to meet you, Velise.”

He said my name with a hint of a tease, and I glared at him for it. Though, there wasn’t any real heat behind it. I felt a little more comfortable with him now that I had a name to pair with the face.

“Hm, I suppose I’ll say likewise. Since you got me food and all.”

“Ah, so that’s how I get you to like me. Food, huh?”

“Tolerate is a better word for it.”

“I see. I’ll have to keep that in mind.”

It felt like a bit of the tension between us had broken. Maybe it was because he had been nice enough to help me get down here so I could eat, or maybe names really had helped with the unease on both sides. But regardless, I found myself actually grateful to have someone I knew here now. Even if it was a temporary acquaintanceship.

Author's Note

How does Casey come across? I want him to seem very aloof, but not necessarily mean. He should come across fairly consistent. A blend of fatigue and overall burnout in his personality, but also a general capability to be responsible and care for others. Also does Velise's wariness of people and intimidation of crowds feel consistent?