Without Pandora's Box

Chapter Seven

We were not stopped as we passed through the crowd, trailing after the man with the black ink mask. People seemed to step out of our way, making a path for us to follow. I knew that it couldn't be anything more than coincidence or a nervous mind playing tricks. "Daniel," I spoke quietly, and yet as he heard me, he made no motion to focus on anything other than the outsider, "this is not wise. We should call the Angels, it is their job to handle unauthorized persons." He did not respond to me right away, his eyes still fixed on the retreating figure of the man. We moved through the crowd uninterrupted, brushing past Citizens without so much as a whisper in acknowledgement of us.

At last, he spoke as we crossed out of the threshold of the plaza, "Do you not want to know how they come and go so easily?" He asked me, pausing beside a building as we allowed the man a few yards lead. "We do all we can to keep their people out, and yet every year, they flock by the dozens. Don't you remember seeing them?"

I tried as hard as I could to remember a previous occurrence of that nature, but aside from this instance a specific memory of an outsider in the city could not be recalled. I voiced just that to him, and in response he did nothing but smile to himself and continue our pursuit.

The outsider was several yards ahead by now, unaware of the two young Citizens that trailed after him so carefully. It struck me as odd that he did not look behind him. A man who would take so many precautions to arrive here would surely use as many— if not more –when he exited once again. I studied him carefully, noticing the patterns in the way he walked. He leaned heavily on his right leg, and yet his posture was nearly as straight as our own; but perhaps age and hard labor had worn down his courtesies, giving his spine an odd curvature that allowed him to slouch forward. He did not walk as if he was afraid of detection, nor did he walk with arrogance. He simply seemed determined, yet the outcome of his situation did not matter. This was a man who held no fear, which led me to believe that perhaps he knew we were there; and even more so, perhaps he did not care.

"He is walking faster." Daniel said to me as he quickened his pace. A simple observation rendered this true, he seemed anxious, a curious emotion. He turned the corner, heading into the more industrial district of the city, where many if the buildings were still under construction. The Society was always improving the lives of its people, so renovation was nearly always underway. We wanted what was best for our Citizens, making them comfortable and productive was a top priority.

We turned the same corner, and I was nearly chilled by the absence of sound that followed. Now, far away from the plaza, the city was empty and devoid of life. It was a curious emptiness, I had never experienced anything like it before, yet both Daniel and the man with the black ink mask seemed unaffected. We turned another corner in pursuit, heading farther into the city with each step. It was almost strange to me how quietly we moved, our feet made no sound against the concrete roads, almost as if we were ancient predators hunting prey. Daniel seemed accustomed to this, and was unaffected by the unusual soundless travel.

"Daniel," my voice was a hushed whisper now. In this silence, we could not risk being detected; but the more we perused this man, the more I became sure of the idea that had been processing in my mind, "I do not believe that he is leaving."

I received a nod in response, and nearly inaudible words that soon followed, "You're right." He told me, his gaze still transfixed on the man. "I think he's meeting someone." I was surprised by the accusation, having not come to that conclusion myself.

As to why an outsider would need to meet anyone within the city walls was beyond my comprehension. Once a person had been relocated, they were not allowed to return and all connections to them were severed. This man shouldn't have had ties within the city, and yet, as he turned another corner once more, deep in the heart of the Society's industrial district, a familiar sight came into view. A large, seamless white wall, reaching approximately ten feet and four inches in height, and fifteen feet in width. It curved inward only slightly, creating the circular form of the inner city. The outsider had led us all the way to the edge of the Society, everything that lie beyond being the rolling hills of the relocation facilities, where those who did not belong spent their days working to ensure a better future for us.