Read Online The Bottle Stopper by Angeline Trevena - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angeline Trevena
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down into the cold stench. Her mouth filled with it, and her stomach lurched at the horribly familiar taste.
Maeve clawed at Lou's hand on the back of her head, but he only pushed down harder.
Bubbles poured from her mouth as she filled up with the water. They slowed, and finally stopped. She felt her consciousness slip, drifting out of her body. She closed her eyes. Maybe this was the best escape after all.
Through the encroaching fogginess, she felt Uncle Lou release her, and she felt her body hit the floor. Her hip, her shoulder, her head.
Maeve woke choking on her own sick. She placed her hands on the cold stone floor, and pushed herself onto hands and knees. Her head throbbed as she retched, and her vision was dusted with spots that swarmed like flies.
The door to the storage room was shut. Maeve crawled over to it, reached up and turned the handle. It was locked. Uncle Lou had left her for dead, and simply locked the door.
I wish I had died. And stunk, and stunk, and stunk.
Kneeling up, Maeve pounded on the door. She heard Lou's footsteps shuffling across the kitchen floor.
“Uncle Lou!” she cried out.
His hand hit the door. “About time you stopped sleeping,” his voice said.
“Let me out.”
“You can come out when every one of those bottles is filled. Not before. I will not have laziness in my house.”
Maeve sunk to the floor. She looked at the pile of bottles. She looked at the basket of cuttings. Fuelled by hatred, she knelt on her cushion and worked fast. She picked through the basket for the hemlock, pushing the leaves into the cheapest bottles. The administration might not care what happened on The Floor, but its residents certainly looked after their own.
20
Kerise hopped up onto the narrow sideboard, curling her legs underneath her. She shifted slightly, and rolled her shoulders. She tugged at her jacket, and finally decided to remove it, depositing it on the floor.
“I don't know how you can work in here,” she said.
Tale looked up from her screen. “What's wrong with it?” she asked.
“No windows, no air, that incessant hum of your computer. And it's so hot.”
“That is the heat of enterprise,” Tale said. “And of revolution. Come on, give me a break, I built this thing from bits begged, borrowed, and stolen. It's a bit of a dinosaur, I admit, but have some respect.”
“I suppose it has its uses.” Tugging an overstretched hair band from her wrist, Kerise tied back her thick, dark hair.
“Without it, we'd be searching for this article by hand. Fancy tackling those lot?” Tale gestured at a pile of storage boxes, piled haphazardly into one corner of the small room. “Be glad I digitised the back catalogue.”
“Fair point.”
“And you should be proud. This is the only computer The Hope has outside of The Compound.”
“That you know of. There could be several underground magazines working to undermine the administration's authority.”
Tale shrugged. “None as good as Asteria.” She pushed her small, square glasses back up her freckled nose. She looked back at the screen, and held up her forefinger. “Hold on, hold on, here's something.”
Tale's head disappeared behind the monitors. Her hand appeared, gesturing in Kerise's direction. “Just printing it out now.”
Kerise jumped as the machine next to her whirred, clicked, and juddered. Bit by bit, it pushed out a sheet of paper. Kerise picked it up, snatching her hand away as if the printer might bite it.
“I hate all these machines. I always feel like they're watching me.”
“These ones are harmless. We're completely off the network here, so no one can spy on us.”
“Either way, I'd rather not look at a screen all day. I'd always be wondering who might be looking back. It's weird to think that just sixty-odd years ago, everyone was addicted to their electronics. Always staring at screens rather than talking face to face.”
“Until the administration turned them all into microphones and
Maeve clawed at Lou's hand on the back of her head, but he only pushed down harder.
Bubbles poured from her mouth as she filled up with the water. They slowed, and finally stopped. She felt her consciousness slip, drifting out of her body. She closed her eyes. Maybe this was the best escape after all.
Through the encroaching fogginess, she felt Uncle Lou release her, and she felt her body hit the floor. Her hip, her shoulder, her head.
Maeve woke choking on her own sick. She placed her hands on the cold stone floor, and pushed herself onto hands and knees. Her head throbbed as she retched, and her vision was dusted with spots that swarmed like flies.
The door to the storage room was shut. Maeve crawled over to it, reached up and turned the handle. It was locked. Uncle Lou had left her for dead, and simply locked the door.
I wish I had died. And stunk, and stunk, and stunk.
Kneeling up, Maeve pounded on the door. She heard Lou's footsteps shuffling across the kitchen floor.
“Uncle Lou!” she cried out.
His hand hit the door. “About time you stopped sleeping,” his voice said.
“Let me out.”
“You can come out when every one of those bottles is filled. Not before. I will not have laziness in my house.”
Maeve sunk to the floor. She looked at the pile of bottles. She looked at the basket of cuttings. Fuelled by hatred, she knelt on her cushion and worked fast. She picked through the basket for the hemlock, pushing the leaves into the cheapest bottles. The administration might not care what happened on The Floor, but its residents certainly looked after their own.
20
Kerise hopped up onto the narrow sideboard, curling her legs underneath her. She shifted slightly, and rolled her shoulders. She tugged at her jacket, and finally decided to remove it, depositing it on the floor.
“I don't know how you can work in here,” she said.
Tale looked up from her screen. “What's wrong with it?” she asked.
“No windows, no air, that incessant hum of your computer. And it's so hot.”
“That is the heat of enterprise,” Tale said. “And of revolution. Come on, give me a break, I built this thing from bits begged, borrowed, and stolen. It's a bit of a dinosaur, I admit, but have some respect.”
“I suppose it has its uses.” Tugging an overstretched hair band from her wrist, Kerise tied back her thick, dark hair.
“Without it, we'd be searching for this article by hand. Fancy tackling those lot?” Tale gestured at a pile of storage boxes, piled haphazardly into one corner of the small room. “Be glad I digitised the back catalogue.”
“Fair point.”
“And you should be proud. This is the only computer The Hope has outside of The Compound.”
“That you know of. There could be several underground magazines working to undermine the administration's authority.”
Tale shrugged. “None as good as Asteria.” She pushed her small, square glasses back up her freckled nose. She looked back at the screen, and held up her forefinger. “Hold on, hold on, here's something.”
Tale's head disappeared behind the monitors. Her hand appeared, gesturing in Kerise's direction. “Just printing it out now.”
Kerise jumped as the machine next to her whirred, clicked, and juddered. Bit by bit, it pushed out a sheet of paper. Kerise picked it up, snatching her hand away as if the printer might bite it.
“I hate all these machines. I always feel like they're watching me.”
“These ones are harmless. We're completely off the network here, so no one can spy on us.”
“Either way, I'd rather not look at a screen all day. I'd always be wondering who might be looking back. It's weird to think that just sixty-odd years ago, everyone was addicted to their electronics. Always staring at screens rather than talking face to face.”
“Until the administration turned them all into microphones and
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