They're Watching

Chapter 4 - He's Alright

I was startled by the deafening bell that rung out in the room, I could feel the vibrations through the floor. I looked up from the control panel to see the male hologram’s mouth move while his voice echoed in my ear: “Please make your way to the elevator. Thank you. Program terminated.” And with that the image flickered and the man disappeared.

The star symbol opened again, the control panel started pulsing with a bright blue light. Before I had time to react, a screeching sound erupted though the ear piece. I quickly removed it and shoved it in onto the podium, the star closed and the desk went dim and lifeless.

I drew a deep breath to steady my increasing heart rate. The incident with the hologram at the front desk has shaken me to my core. I could still feel the woman’s eyes burning into me, watching my every move. I turned around to see a continuous stream of children form a near line ready to enter the elevator.

Like a prison, I though as I gracefully slid of the chair and made my way to the every growing queue. The elevator doors opened with a swift movement in a blink of an eye. As before, when we entered the room, a walking pattern was used. I concentrated on getting it right. Not one foot out of step.

Once in the lift, it swiftly made its way to my floor. A delicate chime rang out twice and the doors of the elevator opened. I pushed my way past the other children ignoring their stern gazes and looks of disapproval.

I had to get out of there. Not just the lift, but the building, as far away as possible from this nightmare.

The sense of claustrophobia was overwhelming. My walking grew faster and faster until I was running down the corridor, people’s faces became undistinguishable, a blur in my vision. I virtually flung myself at the door of my room. I pushed my hand with all my strength onto the scanner, waiting impatiently for the green light to show.

Once in the room, I ran to my bed, dived under the covers and curled into the foetal position. I was shivering violently and crying hysterically. Everything just felt wrong and dangerous.

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I finally felt brave enough to straighten up and look over the duvet. I was facing the digital clock on the wall, counting down the time I had left.

4:24:18:45

4:24:18:44

4:24:18:43

I couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. I looked away while stretching out, preparing myself for getting up. I twisted and turned until I felt ready. Reluctantly, I swung one leg out, then the other. Slowly I peeled the duvet off me until I was sat; bolt upright, on the side of the bed.

I gently pushed myself into standing and stood there, mind blank, staring into the perfectly white wall. It struck me that the room shouldn’t look so perfect and faultless. If you look at all the children in this block, everyone looks different, some have spots some don’t; everyone has different hair colours, different eye colours. Everyone has faults, so how could the building be perfect?

I walked up to it and traced my fingers onto the wall, trying to detect an imperfection, a bump, a crack. Anything. But all I could feel was the impossibly smooth, cold paint. I quickly removed my hand, as if I had been electrocuted and turned to face the beds.

For the first time, I noticed the timer next to the boy’s bed. I glanced from his to mine. They read exactly the same. At least I won’t be leaving alone. Despite everything, I smiled to myself and made my way to the bathroom.

As I made my way to the sonic shower I noticed my face in the mirror. My face was bright red, blotchy and puffy, my eyes blood shot and my hair was sticking out in little toughs. I removed my clothes, carefully placing the diary that I kept tucked under my belt under the bundle of clothes.

I stepped into the shower and automatically felt tingly, the feeling spread from my head down to my toes and back up. When the sensation stopped abruptly, I walk out and looking at the mirror once more.

My hair was flat again, my face back to its original colour and my eyes almost as white as the walls. It was as if nothing had happened. I drew in a deep breath but before I could let it out I heard the click of the front door opening.

I peeked around the bathroom door to see the boy enter the room. I watched as he brought his hand up to the back of his hair and ran his fingers through it. I realized that he could look around at any moment and so quickly got dressed, but gently placing the diary under my belt, and walked out of the bathroom proudly.

He turned around at the sound of my foot steps and smiled.

“Hello, oh what was that name you called yourself?”

“Natasha.” I said bluntly, at the sound of his voice, joy rushed through me but I refused to let it show.

“Oh yeah, Natasha. So how was your day today, fun as ever?”

I shivered at the though of what happened earlier and quickly pushed out the though from my mind. “None of you business.”

“Whoa, I was just trying to be nice, don’t shot me.” He raised his hand up to his sides to prove his innocence. I couldn’t help smiling and I could see him visibly relax. I felt the barrier I build crumble, but I didn’t care.

“Anyway, I was thinking about a name for me while I worked today, but I need something that strikes fear in people but also makes them want to be me.”

“Good luck with that.” I muttered.

He ignored me and continued. “The only problem is that I don’t know what would make a good name.” I laughed and look around for something to talk about, conversation were never my strong point and I hadn’t really had any practise. My eyes could the small control panel next to where you scan your hands by the door, in small font the words ‘MAX POWER USAGE’ flashed on and off the screen.

“Max…” I whispered to myself.

I hadn’t noticed that the boy was still talking, but he stopped mid sentence and looked at me confused. “What did you say?”

“How about Max, it seems like a nice name.”

“Max? It’s not a very threatening name, is it? I guess I could get used to it.” He hesitated and then started nodding to himself and smiling. “Max it is.”

“Well at least that’s sorted.”

“Max is happy that you chose a name for him. Now Max is going to have a shower.” He strode with confident strides to the chest of draws and pulled out a clean T-shirt and trousers.

“Okay, okay, you don’t need to keep referring to yourself in third person.”

“Max doesn’t know what your talk about.” Before I could reply, he vanished into the bathroom. Own laughter filled the room, uplifting and hopeful.