see
the transport.”
I looked up and saw him pull open the door of a sleek
white transport vehicle. I’d seen these on the Link News
before, but of course never in real life. And usually they were
entered in sealed tunnels or manned by people in biosuits.
Adrien pushed me on to the hard gray seat and shut the door
61
Heather Anastasiu
behind me. He ran around the front of the vehicle and got
in the other seat beside me. I felt a little less tense about toxic
exposure once we were inside the vehicle. It appeared well
sealed. I hoped it had a good air- fi ltration system. Adrien
tapped on a key panel beside the wheel; then he looked over
at me.
“Ready?”
I managed a small nod, feeling anything but ready.
“Oh, your seat belt,” he said, reaching across me for some-
thing. I didn’t know what he was doing. His chest was close
to me right as I breathed in and he smelled so . . . good. Not
good- food- smell good, but good in a diff erent way. I swal-
lowed as tingles drifted down my body. He pulled the belt
across me and clicked it in. Then he was settled back in his
seat and we were in motion.
I watched in stunned fascination, trying to take in every-
thing at once. I’d ridden the subway my whole life but it
was nothing like this. The motion of this vehicle with its
rapid acceleration and deceleration made me queasy— and
that was without considering all the wild things I saw out
the windows.
The Surface world was full of geometric shapes, square
and rectangular buildings, some with triangle roofs reach-
ing up into the sky. I averted my eyes from the sky. Looking
at it made me feel nauseated from anxiety, so instead I fo-
cused on the straight streets and the buildings at eye level.
Everything was concrete, gray as my underground world,
except for the occasional shock of green— weeds coming
62
G L I TC H
up through the concrete, trees and overgrown brush on the
sides of the road. Overall, though, it was clean. The paved
street we drove on was smooth. The buildings looked well
kept. Operational, just like Adrien had said.
Still, it was all eerily deserted. In my sublevel world, people
were always crowded together— orderly, but crowded. The
only place of solitude was in our tiny effi
cient housing units,
and even there, I could only be truly alone in the few square
feet of my personal quarters. I simply couldn’t fathom the
space and emptiness of the Surface. The tall buildings looked
like monstrous uneven teeth jutting up. It was a nightmares-
cape, cruel and uninviting.
Occasionally we passed other vehicles on the road but
the glass of each car was so darkly tinted, I couldn’t see the
people inside. Adrien’s knuckles whitened on the wheel every
time one went by. I fi nally stopped looking out the windows
and focused on him. I couldn’t tell how long we’d been
driving in silence— twenty, maybe thirty minutes? His face
was taut, almost blank. For a second, he looked like he was
connected to the Link, but then I noticed him chewing his
bottom lip.
He was tense. He’d seemed so confi dent ever since he’d
burst into the offi
cial’s room, it was strange seeing him look-
ing anxious.
Maybe I shouldn’t have come. Maybe he didn’t really know
what he was doing. How much did I even know about him?
“Are you in acceptable condition?” I fi nally asked, my
voice sounding overly loud in the small space of the car.
63
Heather Anastasiu
“What?” He looked over at me as if he’d forgotten I was
there. “Yeah, I’m fi ne. Sorry, I’m just on edge. I don’t like be-
ing out in the open like this.”
“I don’t like it, either,” I said. “There’s so much space.” I
dared a glance upward out the window, then pulled back
quickly. “It’s too big.”
He laughed. “No, I love that kind of openness. I’ve felt so
claustrophobic the past few weeks. I hate being underground
and not being able to see the sun. It’s so
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