safety zone,” I answer dryly, too quietly to appear brave, but he hears me anyway.
His hand flies up. It’s curled in a fist, but then he stops. He waves his hand about between us like a threat while we lock gazes. Did he really want to hit me? Another reason to abhor this place. All violence is forbidden in the safety zone. We see it as uncivilised, a sign of weakness in people who think that words won’t help them.
“All right, then let’s just start with you,” he concedes, and grabs my arm roughly.
I glance back once at F701 before he drags me out of the cell and the door falls into the lock behind us.
The room we enter is filled with light. Just like the cell, it’s made of uneven red stone, but it’s much bigger. It almost reminds me of the Atrium, because this place also appears to be some kind of centre. From here, various corridors lead away, and there are other doors beside our cell door. Are there prisoners behind all of them?
I don’t even have time to count the doors before the man shoves me into the next cell. It’s much darker than the previous rooms. A solar lamp stands on a wobbly wooden table, throwing a flickering light into the narrow room. There are two chairs at the table; in one of them is the man with the beautiful eyes. Relief floods through me when I see him. He won’t do anything to me, I can feel it. He’s friendly, unlike his colleague here, who shuts the door behind us and stands threateningly in front of it. He crosses his arms on his chest, making him look even wider than he is.
“Sit down,” says Green Eyes, pointing at the chair opposite him. “Please.”
I know that word. Still it sounds odd to my ears. In the safety zone, we rarely use it, because everyone only fulfils their own tasks and therefore no one needs to thank anyone else. We know our rules and don’t ask for favours. In spite of all this I do as he says and settle on the groaning chair.
“Are you thirsty? Would you like another drink?”
“She’s supposed to give us answers, not fill her stomach,” comes the angry voice from the door.”
“But it’s hard to speak with a dry throat,” says the other, unimpressed, and pours a clay cup of water for me. I hesitate, then take a sip and feel it running, cool, down my throat. I look at my dirty fingers and the thick layer of muck under my fingernails. It would be so nice to get into a steam shower right now.
“You don’t need to be afraid. No one will hurt you here,” he continues, just as friendly, but the image of the other man’s raised fist slams into my inner vision. Oh, really?
“What’s your name?”
“My designation is D518.” Name is just an old word for designation.
“Where do you work, D518?”
“In nutrition distribution.”
Everything goes quiet in the cell. It almost seems as if both of them are holding their breath.
“Do you know D523?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where she is?”
I decide to be honest. “In the night when you kidnapped us, D523 and I were working. Shortly before the guards came to get us for a special task, D523 had to go to the toilet. Because she wasn’t there, D375 ordered me to go with the guards instead of her.”
“No!” The man at the door curses. His fist hits the metal and it startles me.
“It’s a silly misunderstanding, that’s all. She’s fine.” Green Eyes tries to calm him.
“Fine? She’s still stuck there. She should be here, not THIS one!” He points at me accusingly and his eyes shine with dampness just like F701’s.
“We’ll get her out later.”
“When later? Do I have to wait ten more years? The Legion will investigate. Heads will roll.”
“The wrong heads. We planned it all right.”
Instead of answering, the other now stomps towards me and grabs my shoulders. He shakes me so that my head flies back and forth.
“Talk, why don’t you? Do you really think it’s okay to lock people up against their will? Dammit, she was just a kid.”
Panicked, I gasp
His hand flies up. It’s curled in a fist, but then he stops. He waves his hand about between us like a threat while we lock gazes. Did he really want to hit me? Another reason to abhor this place. All violence is forbidden in the safety zone. We see it as uncivilised, a sign of weakness in people who think that words won’t help them.
“All right, then let’s just start with you,” he concedes, and grabs my arm roughly.
I glance back once at F701 before he drags me out of the cell and the door falls into the lock behind us.
The room we enter is filled with light. Just like the cell, it’s made of uneven red stone, but it’s much bigger. It almost reminds me of the Atrium, because this place also appears to be some kind of centre. From here, various corridors lead away, and there are other doors beside our cell door. Are there prisoners behind all of them?
I don’t even have time to count the doors before the man shoves me into the next cell. It’s much darker than the previous rooms. A solar lamp stands on a wobbly wooden table, throwing a flickering light into the narrow room. There are two chairs at the table; in one of them is the man with the beautiful eyes. Relief floods through me when I see him. He won’t do anything to me, I can feel it. He’s friendly, unlike his colleague here, who shuts the door behind us and stands threateningly in front of it. He crosses his arms on his chest, making him look even wider than he is.
“Sit down,” says Green Eyes, pointing at the chair opposite him. “Please.”
I know that word. Still it sounds odd to my ears. In the safety zone, we rarely use it, because everyone only fulfils their own tasks and therefore no one needs to thank anyone else. We know our rules and don’t ask for favours. In spite of all this I do as he says and settle on the groaning chair.
“Are you thirsty? Would you like another drink?”
“She’s supposed to give us answers, not fill her stomach,” comes the angry voice from the door.”
“But it’s hard to speak with a dry throat,” says the other, unimpressed, and pours a clay cup of water for me. I hesitate, then take a sip and feel it running, cool, down my throat. I look at my dirty fingers and the thick layer of muck under my fingernails. It would be so nice to get into a steam shower right now.
“You don’t need to be afraid. No one will hurt you here,” he continues, just as friendly, but the image of the other man’s raised fist slams into my inner vision. Oh, really?
“What’s your name?”
“My designation is D518.” Name is just an old word for designation.
“Where do you work, D518?”
“In nutrition distribution.”
Everything goes quiet in the cell. It almost seems as if both of them are holding their breath.
“Do you know D523?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know where she is?”
I decide to be honest. “In the night when you kidnapped us, D523 and I were working. Shortly before the guards came to get us for a special task, D523 had to go to the toilet. Because she wasn’t there, D375 ordered me to go with the guards instead of her.”
“No!” The man at the door curses. His fist hits the metal and it startles me.
“It’s a silly misunderstanding, that’s all. She’s fine.” Green Eyes tries to calm him.
“Fine? She’s still stuck there. She should be here, not THIS one!” He points at me accusingly and his eyes shine with dampness just like F701’s.
“We’ll get her out later.”
“When later? Do I have to wait ten more years? The Legion will investigate. Heads will roll.”
“The wrong heads. We planned it all right.”
Instead of answering, the other now stomps towards me and grabs my shoulders. He shakes me so that my head flies back and forth.
“Talk, why don’t you? Do you really think it’s okay to lock people up against their will? Dammit, she was just a kid.”
Panicked, I gasp
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