Secret Aversion

Chapter 2

*Ari's POV*

A buzz, a wakeup alarm of some sort sounded the next morning and I sat up with sleepy eyes. It took me a good minute or two to realize where I was and what happened last night. Rubbing my eyes, I went to the clothes and boots Arian had previously set for me on the shelf. I took off my clothes and replaced them with the brown uniform. There was no mirror in the cell, but the clothes must be a free size.

          I buttoned the shirt, which reached to my thighs, and the sleeves themselves almost reached my elbows. I had to roll up the pants to my ankles and tied the threads at the waist. The shoes fit me well, though.

          Kneeling, I opened the other drawers to see what we were given. There were four more copies of the uniform that I assumed were to be worn for each day of the week.

          There was a packet in the last shelf, the rubbery, hard version of a Ziploc bag.  Inside was a cheap bottle of toothpaste and a tiny toothbrush. It reminded me of the toothpaste and brush we usually got in an airplane. I missed my old lifestyle already. In a smaller packet was a tube of liquid body wash. These hygienic dungeon tools weren’t in big quantities, but I was grateful for whatever we had.

          There was a beep, and the flap of my door opened. An agent peered in and told me to get out with my supplies pack. So that's what it's called.

          I joined the crowd outside my cell, all wearing a similar uniform to mine. It moved quickly down the corridor, separating into a girls’ and boys’ aisle.  It was a common bathroom, but was split into divisions for organization and cleanliness. I walked to the very last division where there were only about five girls. There were sinks on either side and shower heads and body dryers. Huh. It was similar to a changing room at an everyday local swimming pool or amusement park. 

          Nobody spoke as they showered and brushed their teeth within ten minutes. Some struggled to keep their supplies in hand and there was a lot of fidgeting. An announcement informed us the bathrooms would close in five minutes. An unsettling panic arose as everyone began to flush out.  Time management must be super-important to the Project, whatever its goals were to make us do this. I didn’t have time to take a shower, but didn’t dwell on it.

          Agents, both NE and NR, lined against the cells, instructing everyone to exit the unit. There would be trains stationed outside, the vehicles we’d have to get on. We weren’t given any more information, and at this point, I knew curiosity cost my life.

          We walked in a huddled line, on the same path Arian and I had come from yesterday. On the road outside the Platforms were streetcars without roofs, like charabancs but lower. I’d never seen one before in real life, but these were modernized and joined together by threes, forming a train. The agents made us climb on quickly, and with surprising speed, our streetcar train began to move. I had to get used to this pace, most of us had to. At least, I wasn’t alone on this.

          It was nice, however, feeling the soft breeze hit my face. With all the openings of the streetcar, and no roof, April sure brought its spring atmosphere. I had gone on a tour when I lived in Brilliant Cove. It was a short tour, and out of courage and curiosity. I had come to a fenced, dead-end where I met a Nightingale Runaway for the first time in my life. I could never forget her olive face smeared with ashes. I remembered the smoggy, murk of black on the other side of the barren land. I had always imagined Nightingale’s weather to remain that way, but this was a surprise. It was a surprise with how normal the weather was.

          My phone was in the large pocket of my pants. The pant wasn’t too thin to allow the phone to sag or weigh down. On top of that, they were deep enough to keep the phone from showing. Thank God.

          There were hundreds of people in dozens of streetcars, all heading towards the same direction. We were a good distance away from the border as we passed, and continued on the black, tar road. There was a wall ahead of us I hadn’t seen before. It was the kind of wall you saw around a palace, or one similar to the Great Wall of China. There were several openings in the wall, agents occupying each opening as the vehicles went through.

          My mouth hung open at the sight on the other side. It was a kingdom, completely opposite to what laid on our side of the wall. It was impossible, it had to be a beautiful lie. Though no one said a word, they were as stunned as I was. All around us were pots of spring flowers, mahogany streetlights, paving-stone roads, and a wide range of miniature fountains. There were living spaces from condos to bungalows lines across the central, and buggies, cars, bikes, and all type of vehicles on the shining driveways. This was a vacation spot come true--if only it wasn’t in Nightingale.

          That wasn’t all there was to admire. An actual palace, a Godly mansion came to view. It was huge, like a university campus, and…spectacular. But I knew I couldn’t give in to appearances. I knew, I felt the pain of having to leave my house and parting with family to get here.

          There were agents at the main doors, having us get off and enter the building through several carved doorways. Superb… The lobby was bigger than the size of a wedding hall, brightened by gorgeous white chandeliers, had extravagantly framed paintings on the walls, and smooth marble-flooring. The hallways were separated by Platforms, and it led us to an arena the size of a soccer stadium. The Platforms sat in rows in front of the stage, and we were guided by the agents.

          It was a blanket of brown clothes, worn by people from youngest to oldest. I had to praise their organization, and at the same time, wanted to spit. I sat somewhere at the front of my Platform seats. They weren’t arranged by our birthdays, so thankfully I didn’t end up at the back.

          On the stage were a group of agents and officials on the left and right. Boston was one of them, but he was staring at the other side of the crowd. I hadn't seen Arian's father in a while, and I couldn't wait to see all of his family, including my father. On the left, I found Arian with his NE coat buttoned to the neck and his body poised similar to the rest of the agents. He caught eyes with me, and neither of us looked away for a while. We broke eye contact once the noise died down.

          “If you look around,” a man at the centre of stage said into his headset, “you’ll see every Nightingale and Brilliant Cove citizen and civilian.” It would be impossible to search for Dad or the McCoys. “But Nightingale doesn’t contribute much. There’s only ten of us here." It was supposed to be a funny statement, but nobody laughed. The youngster who stood a couple feet from the man speaking snorted at the fail.

          Wait. I’d seen him before. He had that light, blondish hair and menacing look masked by charming sweetness. It had to be the person last night at the gate, having that ugly chat with Arian. He wasn't any taller or more dignified than Arian, but they seemed to hate each other based on what I saw. 

          “This is a meeting including all of you, to tell you our rules, regulations, and consequences upon several scenarios,” the man continued. “If you must know, I am Roscoe Donegan and this is my son,” he placed a hand on the blonde’s back, “Emerson.” No. Way.

          Those were the Donegans? I had heard about them on the news back home, and Rowen had also gave me a snippet of info. It was that day Rowen told me all about Arian, being his closest friend and sharing Arian's past knowing I would find out eventually. The Donegans were widely despised, and they seemed to know too. The Project was in their hands, and they controlled all its motives and the people working under them. They controlled two, entire cities.

          “You are here because of the Nightingale Amelioration Project,” Roscoe said. “The Project aims for your cooperation, and its primary goal is to make the split cities one, the way it should be.” They were planning to join Nightingale and Brilliant Cove? His insane grin said it all. “This is a revenge carried from our ancestors. Besides, more land, more money. More money, the better.”

          What more could they possibly want? Another mansion? That middle-aged man sounded like a child, selfish and absolutely bratty.

          “How about I take over, dad?” Emerson said, and Roscoe bowed dramatically as his son walked to the front. “Listen carefully. This project is no joke and can put your lives on the line. The two cities are equally big in size, but the population is small enough to deal with.” He glanced at everyone. “What’s the use of putting you into uniforms and cramming you into your own private jail cells?” There was a cough somewhere in the audience. “Authority, power, and time. We need people to work for us without dawdling.” Dawdling?

          Emerson outlined the ‘work’ each Platform had to do, and I knew right off the bat we had to build a city to live in one. Even the elders had work, and I didn’t know what happened to those who couldn’t work. Mothers with children had work, and those with certain health conditions were offered alternatives.

          “To make your lives easier,” Emerson said, “we’re going to be sexist and separate work environments for males and females. We’re educated about these kinds if issues, but we're also conceited and morally dysfunctional. Sorry.”

          “Asshole,” I heard the boy next to me murmur. I agreed with him, wondering if Emerson and Roscoe had even one shameful bone in their bodies.

          “We give importance to hygiene and time, organization and austerity.” Emerson picked up a few items from the boxes at the back. “This tutorial is your only chance to get comfortable with your daily lives in the Platforms. You have to wear your uniforms at all times, and your supply packages will be replaced every two weeks. Laundry rooms are open every week, and it’s your responsibility. You can say, ‘f**k it, I’m too lazy for that’, but you’ll think twice after a punishment.” He winked. “We’ll keep the ranges of punishments a secret. For our fun, obviously. Our agents and officials here will keep an eye on you.”

          My eyes darted to Arian, and I saw the irritation boiling in his face. Boston wasn’t any happier.

          “You’ll be led to your work places by the agents, and patrolled outside. Don’t even think about running away or you’re in for trouble,” Emerson warned. “There will be food parcels delivered to your cells in the morning and night, and one delivered at your work. Don’t expect a gourmet dish with restaurant quality.”

          With a few more notes to keep in mind and a ridiculous amount of savagery in his speech, we had to head to the multiple dining halls where it would be our last time eating real food. It reminded me of giving a child his favourite toy, and grabbing it back. It was an act of satisfaction, a cruelty.

          The stage cleared and we went through the same hallway we came from to get to the lobby. From there, we were led to separate dining rooms in a brisk style. It was big, a word I could use to describe pretty much everything I saw. At the entrance, a hand pulled me to the side. I expected to be in trouble but it was Arian. I was ecstatic to see him and didn’t know how to blurt all my questions.

          He put a finger to his lips. Right, curiosity killed the cat. “I’m impressed you made it this far,” he said, the anger I'd seen before absent in his face.

          “It’s only the beginning,” I said, poking at one of the buttons on my shirt. “Is this it? Living in a cell forever?”

          “No,” Arian said in a low voice.

          “Can’t I see my Dad?” I asked, glancing around. Arian took us farther away when a group of NR Agents walked by.

          “No. Just hold on,” he said. My eyes shifted to a figure coming towards us. 

          Emerson had that familiar look from last night. In broad daylight, it was less intense but intimidating nonetheless. “You’re the girl, huh?” he said, surveying me head to toe. Arian’s hands curled into fists and Emerson noticed. “What’re you doing with my favourite agent?” he asked me. The word 'favourite' seemed so contradicting its definition was erased into meaningless crumbs.

          “I-I accidentally went into the wrong room,” I fibbed. 

          Emerson narrowed his eyes and came right up to me. “I see.” He held the tip of my collar, a strong scent of spice and dollar notes lingering under my nose. “How’s this uniform coming along?” Arian hid his frustration by staring elsewhere.

          I dropped my eyes to my clothing, and couldn't help but blurt the truth. “It looks like I’m wearing an oversized potato sack,” I answered honestly. I'm dead. 

          Emerson burst into laughter. “You’re pretty brave despite the fact I can throw you into a tank of acid.” I froze.

          Arian put a hand on my back, leading me away from him. “She’s stupid, not brave,” he said. Emerson lifted an eyebrow. “You’ll be surprised.”

          “Really?” Emerson feigned shock. “I can’t wait to see that one coming.”

          With fearless clarity, Arian said, “You couldn’t wait if your life depended on it.” It was the second time Emerson was defeated, a condition where he failed to move Arian. “Are you supposed to be here?”

          “I’ll go wherever I want,” Emerson snapped, and peeked into the dining halls. A brunette girl walked out and he put a finger to his lips. “I’m thinking we could use some maids in the house. It'll be fun.” Oh, great. He was a womanizer, too. 

          I was taken into the dining hall to eat and Arian told me to go back to the streetcars once I was done. He had duties all over the place as an agent, and I couldn’t keep depending on him to protect me. Once the streetcars stopped, all of us filed out in a mob.

          The Platform B, Unit 6 inmates were led to the end of the tunnels past our cells. At the end were doors leading outside, towards a wide area of infertile and barren land. It stretched for miles, and hectares of land were separated by thin fences. Was this suppose to be farmland?

          We were huddled across the whole Platform as multiple agents and several officers talked to us about our work. The boys were given the tougher jobs, such as using heavy machinery or tools. The girls were given jobs that weren’t completely easy. Our responsibility was to dig the land, add fertilizers or dusts, and learn about the remineralization process to apply on the land.

          “Your duty is to fix all this damaged area,” an NO nearest to us said. “A long while ago, this was a lush field of crops. It can be renewed back to that state.”

          Did the Project expect us to fix miles of ruined land and grow crops? Even if we could, it’d take years and a couple extra months to get hang of the work, and to actually learn the work.

          “Our squads will watch over you for several weeks.” The NO gestured to a group of men and women wearing green uniforms. Were they agents? “They’ll teach you all that you need to know. And remember, this isn’t school to slack off.”

          At the mention of school, my head went from side to side in search of any familiar faces. I did find some, but no one dared to speak or move. We were robots, responding on demand.

          Gardening had always been one of my greatest hobbies with Mom, and I had experience with growing vegetables in our backyard before. I was used to working hours without break, but not everyone was like me.

          The ground was our enemy, the most evil thing to make us sweat from head to toe. The ‘squads’ instructed us, and some went gentler on our mistakes than others. I had to admit, this was much, much harder than gardening at home. We were given occasional timeouts, question periods, and no boundaries were set yet. Once we started working on a piece of land, it was all and only ours.

          The lunch parcels arrived in the midst of our work and we ate like a pack of wolves. Some stomachs continued to grumble, but we all pretended to not hear them.

          Because it was our first day, we were allowed to get back to our cells two hours earlier than our regular time. Eight hours of work, a regular shift. I wondered how Dad was doing, whatever his job was. Across the fences, I could also see Platform C members out on the land, and a few from Platform D. I wasn’t sure since it was quite far away.

          In the time we were given before the cell doors were locked, we could use the bathrooms. I took a clean shower in cold water, wearing a fresh new pair of clothes. The agent closest to my cell locked it as soon as I went in.

          I kept the phone on silent mode and close to my chest as I splayed on the bed. I took a short nap before the door flap opened. It wasn’t the one at the centre, but the one at the bottom of the door. I hadn’t noticed it before.

          A box, similar to our lunch parcels, was shoved across the flap and it slid into my room. I didn’t have the appetite, but sat on the ground to open it.

          The food items were sickeningly familiar, like I’d expected them from the start. These exact meal plans were in the food task Mr. Moore had given us before he evacuated. Had our biology teacher known from the beginning this would happen? He had us make a range of different meals with certain items…for this?

          After I finished eating, I pushed the parcel back through the bottom flap. It slid through and the flap shut. Sighing, I sat on my bed with drooping shoulders. The screen of my phone lit up and I glanced down at it.

          I received a message from Arian: There are cracks underneath the walls. Big enough to fit paper. Really? I went on my knees and rested my cheek on the cool floor. There was a thin line of light I could barely make out. Did he intend for me to send something through it? What was the use?

          I don’t have paper, I typed. 

          You’ll get paper and other stationary before the end of this week, he wrote back. Wow. The Donegans must want to keep the literacy level high during our imprisonment.

          They were rich, had money to spend, and added these features that gave us a considerably comfortable cell. But was it just me that could never forget their real purpose for having us here? Were they planning to win our trust?

          Ironically, they were the last people on earth we should trust.