Chapter 2

I walk into the gray room and instantly feel the cool draft coming in through the vents. The Questioner walks with loud shoes across the linoleum over to her desk but before she sits she waves towards a single plastic chair resting a few feet away from her. 

“Please,” she says with a smile. “Have a seat.”

The Coppers release me, allowing me to sit down in the gray plastic chair that is the only piece of furniture in the entire room. It hurts my back and is cold even through my clothes. The only other piece of furniture is her desk where the sound of her computer is humming as if it's alive. A hologram of a spinning transparent blue globe is circling above the screen. 

There is a single window to my left that looks out at the building across from us. It’s far away but I can faintly see into the opposite building at a Level 2 Citizen sitting at her desk staring mindlessly at a hologram image moving rapidly in the air. I wonder what she is doing in there. Level 2 Citizen’s jobs seem so boring to me. Endless hours of communicating with other Quarters and Centers around the world. Who wants to sit on a screen all day talking about the changes in schedule, where people need to be assigned, what things need to be fixed, shipment schedules, all things human.

 Someone has got to do it, I suppose. I’m just glad it’s not me.

No. If I got the choice, I think I’d like to be a Doctor or a Nurse. I’d like to help lives and heal people. They’ve done a lot of good on those Level 1 Sections. I’d like to be a part of that. But rarely do Level 3 Citizens move to Level 1. We’re lower class for a reason.

There is also a machine directly in back of the Questioner. It’s a small black screen connected to a box with multicolored buttons decorating the front. It looks like one of our Instructors except there are wires connected to small white disks hanging from hooks surrounding it. I’ve never seen anything quite like it before now. I don’t know what it’s meant for which makes me nervous. 

I don’t want her to see that I’m uncomfortable or that I have anything to hide so I decide to stare at my shoes. The culprits to this whole mess. What a stupid mistake. All I had to do was change my shoes with another pair. I have three others. I could have ran to my room and changed them before anyone noticed I was missing. I could have prevented all of this from happening.

The woman sits at her desk, her head slightly bent over what looks like a very lethargic file. It is nearly empty of paper. This isn’t uncommon for Level 3 Citizens. We don’t hold much in our records because there isn’t much to tell. We either have family history, school records, health records, and job status. Level 3 Citizens have some of the slimmest files because there isn’t much to document about us. Most of us spend our whole lives that way.  

The two Coppers stand on my right and my left. I find it odd that I can’t hear them breathing. I can hear my own even through the other sounds surrounding the room, but I can’t make out theirs. It’s frightening not being able to tell machine from man. 

I start to bite my lower lip tasting the salty bitter tang of the blood as it falls over my tongue. The pain is comforting, something familiar, in the distant white room. I try to lean back into the chair but the bones in my back rub against the hard plastic uncomfortably. And I thought the chairs in our classrooms were unbearable. 

Peter is probably sitting in one right now. He’s probably sweating over the last legs of Dystal’s guidelines to graduation or writing the last pages of his eight page research paper of the History of Dystal and It’s Leaders. 

We believe in a world without violence.

We are a nation without grievances. 

We are the honorable race. 

We are the strong, the willed, and the weak.  

“Story,” My name brings my attention back to the woman sitting across from me with near perfect posture. She folds her hands on her desk and blinks once as the sun streams in through the window towards her. “That’s an interesting name. How did you acquire it?”

I raise an eyebrow and say with more venom than I intend, “It was given to me.”

She smiles, a casual grin to show my attitude isn’t taken seriously. “My name is Shell. My mother gave me this name because when I was born I had a birth mark on my wrist in the shape of a sea shell.” She lifts her left wrist and turns it so I could see a pale brown stain on her otherwise perfect skin. It did take the shape of a small clam shell. “Did your mother give you your name too?”

 She’s trying to get me to trust her by telling me something personal. I should cooperate, but I don’t want to tell her that information. I don’t want that written in my file for anyone to see. 

“Story,” she says, her voice remains calm and level. “I asked you a question. It’s rude to ignore.”

I glare at her, “I don’t understand what the big deal is. I have dirt on my shoes, everyone gets dirt on their shoes.”

“The dirt on your shoes was detected to have high levels of metal in them which means that you would have had to leave your Quarter and been exposed to Outside Resources. We just want to understand why you have that substance on your shoes.” The hologram of Earth spins in a slow circle right next to her head. “Though at the current moment, I’m more curious about your name. Who gave it to you?”

“Why does that matter?” I say, looking down at my blackened shoes. “Look, I’m sorry about my shoes. It will never happen again. Can I just be let off with a warning this once.”

The Coppers take two steps closer to me, close in on the personal gap they left. Strange, that their bodies give off no heat. A man with that much muscle mass on their body should radiate heat. It's the meatless that froze. I should know. This room is freezing to me. It’s chill sits down in my bones.

Shell holds up her hand towards them. She stands up slowly from her desk and turns around. She walks over to the machine sitting in the far left corner of the room. Her heels click across the stone floor until she stops and faces the machine. She pulls it around her desk and over to my side.

I shift forward, my feet plant firmly on the ground, when two giant heavy hands land on my shoulders.

Shell removes a wire from it’s hook and places the small white disk onto the inside of my neck, just below my jaw. 

“What are you doing?” I have no reason to be scared. We are a nation without violence. She wouldn’t hurt me for information. I haven’t done anything wrong.

“Don’t be frightened.” Shell says, placing another sticky disk onto my inner wrist. The last one she places directly over my heart. “This is strictly for precaution, so I trust that I’m receiving the full truth from you. You may feel a light buzz from the wires when I turn it on. It shouldn’t be unpleasant, but you may not enjoy it.”

“What is it?” I ask, trying to analyze the buttons.

“It’s what we call a READ.” She smiles and presses the green button on the monitor. I feel a slight jolt push me back again the chair. It feels like when you land feet first after a long fall. The vibrations rock through, not painful, but uncomfortable enough to make you loose your sense of balance. “If you resist a question, this machine will react with a light pressure. If you hesitate, it will add more pressure. If you lie, it will alert me. If you’re honest, the machine will remain quiet and there will be no pressure.”

I take several deep breaths and tried to stable my heartbeat. My eyes water from the waves that seemed to push and move through my skin. It makes it difficult to concentrate on anything else. I’ve heard stories about this machine. It makes people forget things. It drags their memories out and displays them across the screen. An orphan boy went in for Questioning one time and when he returned he didn’t remember anything except for this machine. He couldn’t remember why he went in there or what they did. It was like it never happened.

“Is it going to make me forget?” My voice comes out quiet from concentration.

“Why would it make you forget?”

“Because that’s what these machines do,” My wet eyes meet hers. “It makes people forget things.”

“Do you know why we do that?” She asks.

I shake my head.

“Because how can you repeat a crime you don’t remember committing in the first place.” She grins and pushes a strand of my bangs back away from my face. “This machine just helps me get the truth from you. It’s not meant to eliminate thoughts or memories. That is only used for severe punishment. This isn’t a punishment. I just want to understand you. Now, please begin with how you received your name.”

My resistance causes a sharp vibration to rock through my system making me feel weak and tired. The words hang on my lips like a drop of water hangs from the tip of a leaf. 

“It was my nurse,” I say, the words come out like someone is pulling them from my throat.

“Why were you with a nurse?” She clicks her pen on her knee and begins writing into my file. 

“My parents, they vanished when I was three. When the Coppers found me I wouldn’t speak.” My teeth grit together and press my lips against them. The tips of my short finger nails press into my palms but the pain does nothing to distract me like I’d hoped. “They took me to the hospital and the nurse, she asked me what my name was. I was scared… I couldn’t remember. She said to me, ‘you look like you have a story.’ After that, when she’d come to check on me, she’d call me Story.”

I let out a deep breath when I’m finished. That memory is not one I reflect on often. It was the day I realized my parents weren’t going to return, no child should have to relive that. I don’t want to go any further. What is the point of how I received my name? This doesn’t have anything to do with my crime. 

Shell writes down what I said in her notebook. She holds no emotion on her face. She simply scribbles and continues without looking up at me. “What is your real name, Story? The one your parent’s gave you? Do you remember?”

“No.” I answer smoothly. “I don’t remember anything before the hospital.”

She nods and continues to write. “How old are you?”

“Seventeen.” 

“What community do you belong to?”

“Level 3.” I answer and the buzzing softens with each honest answer.

“Do you remember your parents?”

My jaw tightens and I try to fight again. The shock got stronger and I nearly cry out. “No.” I say, my hands tighten against the handles of the chair. “No, I don’t remember them.”

“Do you remember what happened the night of their disappearance?”

“No.”

“Do you remember where it happened?”

“No,” I say again with more authority. “I already told you, I don’t remember anything.”

Shell looks up at me then. Her cool blue eyes look cruel to me now. She holds no sympathy, like she is looking at an object and not a desperate child. She pinches her lips together and swallows. 

“Fine,” she licks her thin lips. “Why are your shoes covered in outside materials?”

“I-“ I fight against the buzzing. I couldn’t tell her the truth. I couldn’t tell her I was stealing from the middle class, even if it was Lud. My body starts shaking as I fight against the pulling of the machine. I had to say something. Anything. “You know how disgusting us Lower Class Citizens are, the hallways must have been dirty.”

A load beep sounds from the machine. We both looked over as a red feed flashed across the blank screen. Insufficient Data. It read. I groan and lean my head back against the chair. 

“You’re lying. Why?”

“It’s kind of the truth.”

The monitor beeps again. Insufficient Data. 

She closes her eyes. Frustration. The first emotion I’ve seen on her since we started. 

She is fighting her own inner buzzing to keep her emotions in check. “Why are your shoes dirty, Story?”

The buzzing has become uncomfortable again. It feels like something is trying to extract the words from my mouth. The screen on the monitor stays completely white, waiting for my answer. There is really no point in lying to her anymore. As a minor, the worst punishment that she can do to me is give me twenty-four hour confinement. Maybe I can finally put Peter’s fear about it to rest.

“I was outside the Quarter.” I submit.

Shell smiles with an ounce of smugness that makes my skin crawl. “Why were you outside the Quarter?”

I take a deep breath and try to keep my voice level. “I was running away from someone.”

She inclines her head to the left. “Who were you running away from?”

“A boy.”

“Who?” She barks irritably.

“A Middle Class boy.” The monitor remains quiet and the buzzing stills again. Although, I can still feel the threat of it against my neck and chest.

Shell keeps her head turned with her eyes locked directly on mine. They were an iridescent blue. Unnatural. “Why were you in the Level 2 Community?” She asks again.

I straighten in my seat. The Copper answers this one for me. He hands her my bag that has been sitting next to me since we got in here. She takes it from him and places it on the desk flipping open the top and pulls it open. Inside is my notebooks and pack of pens but at the bottom is a mixture of the candy I stole from Lud’s room. 

Shell dips her hand inside and pulls out a thick candy bar. “Did you steal this?”

I don’t meet her eyes, I just nod my head once. 

“How did you get into Level 2 to steal this?”

I squirm in my chair slightly, trying to find someway to disengage myself from the sticky pads, but I can’t and I can’t lie anymore. “I- I copied the boy’s numbers after he punched them into the Study Room one day. I used his numbers to get into the Level 2 Community, into his room, and into his desk drawer to get his candy bars.”

“You’ve done this before.” Shell says, as more of a statement than a question.

 I answer her anyway, because the buzzing makes me feel like I have to. “Yes.” 

She nods and writes what I just said down. 

“Did anyone help you?” 

No. I couldn’t tell her Peter helped me. I told him to stay outside the door and keep look out. I used his job to help me get into the Middle Class Community without being detected. I told him that there was no way we’d get caught. That Lud would be waiting on his pod for class to begin. I’d never anticipated that he’d return. Plus, Peter is eighteen. Who knows the punishment for an Adult for stealing or supporting a minor who is stealing. Actually, he’d probably know and I can imagine it’s not good. No. She can’t know he helped me.

“No, I did it myself.”

BEEP. Insufficient Data. I glare at the damn machine.

“You’re lying again.” The papers crinkles as she tightens her hands around them. “Who helped you?”

“I said no one helped me.” My voice doesn’t waver.

Beep. Insufficient Data. 

 Shell shakes her head. “There is no reason for you to lie, Story. If you help me, than I may be able to help you.”

The wires seem to tighten against my skin, the buzzing pulsed through my nerves. It is becoming painful now. Help her with what? What is so important about a few candy bars?

“I’m thirsty. Can I get a drink of water?” 

Shell stands up and pulls the machine around so she can see the buttons. Her knuckles are white against the monitor. She presses her index finger against the red button. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Who helped you today, Story?”

“What’s that button for?”

“Ma’am,” one of the Coppers releases my shoulder. “She is under the age of eighteen. She cannot be administered physical punishment unless she is a suspect of treason or concealing information. You must proceed with the READ.”

“I know the rules.” Shell snaps, “But she didn’t, until you opened your mouth.”

“Now who’s the liar.” I smile and tip my head back to look at the Copper on my right who stopped her from doing whatever it is the ominous read button thing does. His eyes remain forward with his arms locked at his side. 

Shell glares at the Copper and then down at me. “Take her to the Thinking Room and hold her there until she’s ready to talk. We’ll continue this discussion tomorrow. I have more pressing issues than a Level 3 girl breaking into other Levels.”

She pulls the sticky pads from my skin, none too gently, then hangs them back onto the hooks. The monitor shuts down, revealing a blank screen again. 

“Well, good talk.” I say sarcastically, pulling my shirt down and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. “I feel like I’ve got a lot of things off my chest.”

“Take her,” Shell points at the door. “Now!”

I hold out both of my arms away from my body for the Coppers to grab and give Shell a lazy solute as they escort me, somewhat aggressively, out the door. 

“Copper,” Shell said, before the door fully closed. The Copper to my left turns and releases me so now I’m off balance. The one of my right stills holds my arm as the first leaves us for the Questioner’s room. We wait in silence while the two talked in the opposite room.

I glance at the Copper beside me and give him a sly grin. “Must feel pretty bad her not inviting you back in there too. Don’t worry. I’m sure you would be an excellent choice. Don’t take it too personally-“ His hand tightens around my upper arm pinching the skin. “Ow… okay! God, lay off the weights. What are you part dragon?”

His grip doesn’t soften. I try to squirm out but nothing happens. That’s when I heard the voices coming from under the door. I stop moving and try to listen.

“I’m finding it hard to believe that an orphan from Level 3 accessed a Level 2 community all by herself.” Shell’s voice sounds thick with suspicion. I should have felt concern for her disbelief but all I feel is offended. I could totally access Level 2 without any help. Peter just insists on following me. “She has little to nothing on her file. It tells her numbers and her station and that’s it. There is no information on her family. On her heritage. On her linage. She is barely in the system.”

“What are you saying, Questioner?” The other Copper asks.

“I’m saying that a girl with no information escapes out of the Quarters the same day that we catch one of them stealing from the same Level she’s been stealing from.” The room got quiet. An eerie calm fills my chest and I can hear my heart beat in my ears. “I’m saying that I think we might have a traitor in our midst.”

Traitor.

“I will alert the proper authorities.” The Copper announces and I hear shoes move across the floor towards the door. 

“Wait,” Shell takes a deep breath and I hear her release it. “No. Not yet. I want to speak to her more tomorrow and then I’ll make the concise decision whether to disturb them with this matter.”

“But Questioner-“

“Please Copper,” Her voice takes authority. “I think we are more than capable of handling a seventeen year old Level 3 Citizen who may or may not be a traitor. I will speak no more on this matter. Take her to the Thinking Room and we’ll address the issue tomorrow.”

When the other Copper comes back out. He doesn’t hesitate to grab me by the back of my arm, a little too aggressively, and drags me down the long white hallway, past the labelled doors. Across the hall, the elevator doors opens and my eyes met a familiar pair that I’ve grown to recognize even more than my own. 

“Story!” Peter yells, then groans when the Copper that holds one of his arms behind his back shakes him for speaking out. 

“What are you doing here?” I say, turning my head as we are dragged past each other. 

“They just want to ask me some questions.” He says, his voice filling the hallway behind me. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine.”

I want to believe him, but I know it’s not the truth.  

They throw me into what looks like a white box.  There is a bed tucked up against the left wall with a plain gray sheet tucked neatly around each corner of the mattress. A white sleeping garment is folded at the end of the bed. A window that is artificially frosted over brings in the only light. A toilet and sink are right beside the main door that I am standing in front of now. The door slams behind me rattling a small slit in the middle of the wood that I imagine food is administered through. I stick my hand out and lift the flap.

“Thanks.” I call out. 

No one answers. But then, I guess they wouldn’t would they? We’re supposed to be thinking.

I lay down on the bed and swing my arm over my face. My eyes catch on something on the inside of my left wrist. A soft pink circle where the sticky pads were. It looks like a burn mark and smarts like one too. I really don’t want to know what that red buttons does.

After a few minutes I start to wonder what time it is. It must be getting close to lunch. My stomach feels thin from not eating anything but the small bit of bread I had in the kitchen with Gertrude. 

This room makes me feel like a fish in a tiny bowl. The small space is lined with wide white tiles on the tall walls. There is no mirror on the wall over the sink beside the small white toilet bowl. Vanity isn’t important in Dystal.  

Ultimately, I end up on the bed again. As I lay there, I wonder who else might have been held in this room. A lower class men for singing a ballad that isn’t the national anthem. A middle class woman for trying to pursue an upper class man. A girl who was only trying to eat a piece of candy. Or maybe a traitor. 

What did she mean by a traitor in our midst? Am I that traitor? And who else was stealing from Level 2? Were they in the room next to me? Were they stealing candy bars? I can’t really think of a good reason for doing it anymore. It seems like so much more trouble now than it’s worth.

I lay on my back in bed until the sun disappears and the room becames dark. The building is quiet except for the ever present hum coming from the air conditioning vents that purify and circulate the air we all breathe. I am counting the bricks backwards from 100 because I already counted ahead, when a loud yell vibrates along the walls of the compound, startling me back to the present. I lean forward, so I’m sitting up, and wait for it to come again. If it even came in the first place.

“Great,” I run a hand through my thin hair, “I’m hearing things.”

It is several minutes before it comes again and it is even more pressing than the first time.

“Stop!” They beg. The voice is clearly male and is suffering greatly.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and clamber to my feet. I am a little unsteady from the Read test and from laying in one position for too long. I keep one hand on the bed as I wait for the voice to come again. I can’t tell which direction it’s coming from.

“STOP!” A throaty cry makes my chest ache and my hair stand on end. The halls are soundless except for the echo the voice creates. An eerie calm after a loud crash. 

 I walk towards the door. It’s too dark in my tiny room to see anything. My bare feet find something cold and mushy. I hear a glass dish bounce and clamber against the hard floors. The food was left on the floor like I’m some kind of common criminal. 

I still the bowl of soup with my bare foot and wait for more noise. Footfall, yelling, talking, anything. But nothing follows. I lift the food flap and look out into the yellow lit hallway. All seems clear. 

A second later I hear someone yell again. From what I can tell, his voice is coming through the vents. With my  gooey foot and all I climb up onto the bed and reach for the vent on the left side of my room. I try to peak through the shades but it is black as night on the inside. I can see nothing. 

“I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you anything you want to know, just please, stop.”

My stomach drops somewhere near my feet and my hands flattened against the wall as recognition floods my system. It’s Peter.

Reviews

[Wolven]

Bam! Cliffhanger.
i am loving this. Shell reeks of antagonist to me, which is great. The lie detector thing is great i think. Its almost 'torture-like' in the way she extorts the information from Story. I'm surprised though that a 17 year old would not simply refuse to say anything. The right to remain silent and all that.
like Rochell, the suspense had me on the edge of my seat, which is brilliant. I'm interested in learning more about this society. What qualities are valued in people, are there other nations, any conflicts, rebel groups etc.
i know i suggest this to everybody, but it could be an idea to explore more than one POV. That way you can cover more distance and effectively generate different perspectives of the same world, if you get me.
i dunno about everybody else, but i am thoroughly enjoying this novel. I eagerly await the next chapter of this, Hannah. Well done, and Keep it up!

[Rochell Kurwitz]

Wow I just want to say first off great job the story had me on the edge of my seat it was well written I did see some spelling and grammar errors but those can be easily fixed I heard that if you copy and paste your story into google translator and have it read it back to you you can catch those issues pretty easily I haven't tried it but that's what I heard. One thing the characters story and peter to me seem younger then 17 they don't have the maturity I think a 17 year old has especially because they were stealing candy but that's just me other then that great job I can't wait to read more!

[Hannah]

Thank you Rochell! I agree with the immaturity and that's exactly how I wanted them to come off. They are kept in this very tight knit community where the most important items to them (worthy of stealing) are the things they can't have. I hope it works for me but I have thought about them stealing something else but I'll have to play with it. You make a good point. Thank you for the review and I'm excited to read some of your work as well! Thanks for reading.

[Rochell Kurwitz]

No problem at all I enjoyed reading it very much. You might try just making them a little younger instead of trying to change parts of the story altogether. It might also help the story a little more because it will make it that much more fantastic that they are able to do everything that they do in the story. That's just a thought though great writing.I have the first two chapters of my YA dystopian novel Be Strong Be Brave posted if you wouldn't mind checking them out I would appreciate it.

[Meat of Dog]

I liked the incredibly awkward suspense at the beginning here. You did a good job building up suspense and using exposition to make it feel like she’d been sitting there an uncomfortably long time (without physically writing an unnecessarily long ramble). I like how smart Story is too; she’s a little confrontational (teenage rebel kind of behavior) but I don’t blame her nor find it repellant. I got a bad feeling about the Questioner lady from the start so I’m glad Story could see through her little façade of personal information. This chapter has a sort of weird Clockwork Orange feel to it and I don’t know if you realize what you did here. There’s no threat of harm or violence, as Story stated, so I know (or assume) she won’t get hurt. Still, the whole idea of the Reader is DISTURBING. Kudos to you. I say this only because I like disturbing/ freaky writing and you found a fresh way to do it without a blood bath or physical violence which is so overdone.

It’s crazy how all this happened over candy, it really shows how sort of ruthless the classes are to the other classes they see as ‘inferior’. I’m kind of falling for Story, reader speaking, because I can relate to her. Her emotions and character are very real. It seems like a lot of her sarcasm and what not are to cover up fear and insecurity because I see a pure person in her and Peter as well. Excellent cliffhanger at the end too; I would love it if you could sent me RRs as you post new chapters so that I can keep reading. I find this story very intriguing and the hooks, well, have me hooked haha.


Suggestions:

“changes inschedule, where” Needs a space.

“were unbarable” Unbearable.

“History of Dystal and It’s Leaders.” Its. The word ‘it’ is reversed from normal punctuation in that ‘its’ is possessive and ‘it’s’ is a conjunction of ‘it is’. Same here “wire from it’s hook”.

“closer to me, close in on the personal” This is a little awkward, I think you meant ‘closing’?

“trying to find someway to disengage” Some way.

“back out. He doesn’t” Period not needed her (looks accidental).

“past the labelled doors” Labeled.

“Vanity isn’t important in Dystal.” This is super nitpicky so feel free to ignore it (I have perfectionism issues) so feel free to ignore it. I would reword this to something slightly different because I can see what you meant/ were going for but as the tiers of class move up the Dystal(ians?) seem really vain. Maybe make a gesture more toward prisoners or the lower 3rd class?

“room becames dark” Became.

[Hannah]

Wow! Again, thank you so much! You're really good at this, by the way, have you thought about being a literary agent or doing book reviews for magazines because seriously... If I read this about a book somewhere I'd want to pick it up and read it. Thank you for the kind words. I'm so excited to post chapter three. I would be happy to send you a RR as soon as I figure out what exactly that is. Thank you again!

[Meat of Dog]

I've considered it haha, not sure exactly what goes into that but hey maybe I'll look into it. I always saw it as just a bunch of rambles, the reviewing process I mean. RR, read request so that it shows up in my queue. That way I won't have to hunt yeh down again. You're quite welcome!