A shrill ringing sounded, awakening the cabin the next day. All around me, groans started up as people sat up, getting out of their bed.
I forced my eyes open, sitting up on my bunk. I climbed slowly down the side, walking over to my small locker. I watched as the boy below me, 94-2, opened his on the right, grabbing clothes very similar to the ones he had worn when I first saw him. I moved over to my locker, grabbing the same ones.
I noticed how everyone was already stripping and changing into those clothes. Most faced their bunks, dressing quickly. My eyes caught Cassandra’s, who smiled gently as she pulled her shirt over her head.
I quickly averted my eyes, changing into my own pair of work clothes. The others bundled their night closes together, dropping them off in a bucket by the door. I followed in their actions, unsure of why I was doing anything.
Breakfast went much like dinner had the night before.
I sat alone in the same spot I had earlier, eating from food that didn’t look much different than what they served last time. All around me conversation buzzed. I kept to myself silently. This time I didn’t wait for Cassandra to finish her meal before I dropped off the dishes.
As I walked out, a flow of people was steadily streaming towards opposite direction of the cabins. I fell into pace with those around me and watched intently on what they were doing. A few picked up hoes while others picked up a metallic machine that looked far too heavy.
“Excuse me,” I said to the man next to me, resting a hand on his shoulder gently. He looked down at me in disgust, shrugging my hand off of his shoulder.
“Halt dein Mund, Mädchen.” He snarled in German. My eyes widened at the harshness in his voice.
I had taken a few years of German before the aliens had started to arrive on Earth. My mind pulled up the translation in my head to be a smile, “Shut your mouth.”
I struggled to find a response to him, to explain to him that I was confused on what to do, “Ich bin… verwirrt. Was soll ich machen?”
“Laufen.” He had ordered me to walk.
I closed my mouth, figuring that was the most I was going to get out of him. The flow of people moved on, the sound of feet marching continued. My eyes moved around the crowd as I searched for anyone that looked familiar. But I knew the chances of me finding someone I recognized were small.
A hand clamped over my upper arm, pulling me away from the man that had previously just yelled at me.
I turned over to the owner of the hand, surprise flooding through me to see the boy who slept below me.
I vaguely recalled his number being 94-2.
“What’re you—”
“Shh.” He hissed in a hushed voice. I glanced at him with wide eyes as he led us down the crowd. His grip never loosened on my arm. “You can’t talk now. Get to the fields and follow me. Don’t speak a word until we get back to the cabin.”
He barely moved his lips. His words were hard to decipher, taking me a few minutes. But I chose not to respond to him. 94-2 kept his hand on my arm as we walked towards the fields quickly.
I nearly did a double take coming to them.
Green stalks taller than me towered over everyone walking towards them. The tops swayed in the wind slightly. Blue colored the base of all the stalks a good foot up. People disappeared into poorly made paths with different tools in their hands. 94-2 led us over to a shed, picking up two metal cylinders. He handed me one roughly.
The metal cylinder weighed much more than it looked. The muscles in my arms tensed as I struggled not to drop it. It was completely smooth on the outside with a hollowed out middle. I raised it to my eye level, looking through it. 94-2 grabbed my elbow, pulling me out of the way.
“Don’t just stand there.” His words were barely audible. He headed towards the stalks, taking a path that most people weren’t taking. I followed him quickly, my arms beginning to ache from holding the metal cylinder.
We walked for a good ten minutes before finally coming to a stop. Half a dozen people shared the small patch. It was a circular clearing, small, with the blue bases from the stalks arbitrarily popping up. I was careful to watch my feet.
94-2 placed a foot atop one of the stalks, hoisting another onto a nearby one. I watched as he balanced himself on the two thin blue bases while lifting the metal cylinder over his head and sliding it around the taller stalk near him. The green body completely filled the empty middle of the metal cylinder.
He moved it down until he stopped above the blue base. I watched with interest as the metal cylinder began to vibrate, emitting a soft humming noise. The boy held it there for a few minutes before a loud creaking started.
The green stalk tilted down towards the ground, landing with a thud.
He stepped back, motioning for me to take a try.
~*~
I learned that in the morning, it was normal for humans to work in pairs. While one balanced the other so that together they could get the stalk cut down. Neither of us spoke during the process. The humming and vibrating of the machines, the creaking and tumbling of the stalks were enough noise for us.
In the eight hours we had to work in the morning, 94-2 and I only ever got twelve stalks cut down. I did most of the work while he stayed back, keeping me balanced on the stumps. I tried to concentrate on my work, but I found my mind wandering.
By the end of the day, we had managed a total of twenty-six stalks down. I sat alone at lunch, unable to find 94-2. But he found me as soon as we started up for the second half of the day’s work. I didn’t know what happened to the stalks that we cut. They seemed to disappear when we weren’t looking.
I saved my questions for later.
It was a silent walk back to the cabin. I fell into pace with him, but neither of us spoke. I was waiting for him to break the silence.
We were the last to enter the cabin.
He collapsed on his bunk.
“94-2.” Cassandra said, walking over to him, “Are you feeling alright?”
He grunted, shrugging. His head was buried in the pillows. “I’m not a number, Cassandra.”
“I’m not Cassandra.” She cringed when he said her name. “I’m 42-3 now. We have to embrace this.”
“Whose side are you on, Cassandra?” The elderly man from before snapped, sitting up on his bed. “Embracing this will get us nowhere.”
“We’re going nowhere! And my name is not Cassandra anymore!”
“You can’t honestly tell me you like that number better than your name!”
“It doesn’t matter what I like anymore.”
“Have some faith!”
“Could you two shut up?” 94-2’s voice was harsh again. “Why is it every damned day you two have to fight?”
“Sorry.” The elderly man said humbly, “I just can’t stand seeing her give up hope so easily.”
“Don’t apologize.” 94-2 sat up in his bunk, running a hand through his hair. His shirt was stained with sweat once again, “Just don’t do it again. Now let’s get to dinner. I’m starving and sick of getting the crap.”
The rest of the cabin nodded.
They began to file out quickly, heading towards the Mess Hall.
“How was your first day in field labor?” Cassandra asked as we made our way down the row of cabins. As we walked, I noticed how other cabins were spilling out people as well, all heading to the same direction.
“It was horrible.” I groaned, rubbing my eyes, “My arms ache so much.”
“Did you work with the Cutters?” She smirked.
“The what?”
“Big metal donuts basically that cut down the planets?” She elaborated. I groaned, nodding at what she was talking about.
“Yep. Those are what I used today.”
“They’re a pain in the ass to use, especially if you’re going to begin with them. Why’d you grab those?” She giggled softly at my pain.
“I found 94-2—that’s his name right? The guy beneath me?” I checked quickly. Once she confirmed, I continued, “I found him-or, well he found me-and I followed what he was doing. Why would he pick the hardest thing to do?”
“He’s always going out for the toughest things. I think he likes the burn.” She shrugged, brushing a few strands of her curling hair behind her ear.
I frowned slightly, “But he knew I wasn’t familiar with everything…”
She shrugged, “It’s survival of the fittest.”
I gave her a weird look as we entered the building. She smiled gently, getting into line. She handed me a tray, to which I mumbled a thanks.
“Can I ask you a question?” I asked as we waited. The line was longer today than it had been yesterday.
“You just did.”
I cracked a smile, “I mean another one.”
“Well, why didn’t you ask?”
“Why don’t you like to be called Cassandra?”
“It’s not my name anymore.”
“But it was. I don’t like being referred to as…” I bit my lip, trying to recall my own number quickly.
“93-11” She finished for me.
“Yeah, that. I would rather be called Eva, because that’s my name.”
“Correction.” She said as we shifted up more in line, “It was your name. You’re now 93-11. Forget Eva.”
“But…”
She shook her head sharply. “I’m not going to have this conversation with you 93-11. You have to forget your Earth life.”
I sighed, staring at the ground.
She was right.
“Sorry, I was just wondering…” I mumbled.
Cass—42-3 smiled gently, patting my shoulder affectionately. “It’s quite alright, 93-11. I understand your confusion.”
I didn’t respond.
We moved up more, holding out our tray to accept the food for the evening. We split up after that. I headed towards the spot that I had deemed my own while Cassandra—I mean 42-3—searched for a table to sit at.
I couldn’t understand why she needed to sit at the tables. They were incredibly over crowded, but then again, there wasn’t a part of the Mess hall that wasn’t overcrowded. Thousands of people had to be eating here at the same time.
It was insanity.
I took a seat against the cool wall, propping my tray on my legs. I pulled them in so as to not trip the unsuspecting people walking by. My stomach growled as I forced myself to eat the disgusting food on the tray. All around me I could hear the other humans chatting away aimlessly.
What was there to talk about now?
There were no sports teams to keep up with, no politicians to bash, no celebrities to ridicule. There didn’t seem anything worth talking about.
I almost wished everyone sat in silence with me.
~*~
Back at the cabin, Cassandra and I arrived the last ones in. It didn’t seem as crowded with everyone huddled in groups on the bottom bunks. I noticed how no one laid on the tops ones, save for a few people already asleep. 42-3 took a seat next to a few other girls closer to her age, falling easily into the conversation with them.
I bit my lip, scanning the room to see what I was going to do. I exhausted, but not tired enough to fall asleep. My body ached to be lying down, yet I knew I wouldn’t slip into unconsciousness for quite some time.
“Hey,” I walked over to where the boy from earlier-94-2- had been lying on his bunk. He rested alone with one arm over his eyes.
He moved his arm just enough to see who was speaking to him for a brief moment. “What do you want?”
I bit my lip, feeling awkward standing there. “I just wanted to say thanks for… you know, thanks for today.”
He shrugged, “I didn’t do anything.”
“I would have been so confused on what to do…” I mumbled, “I really appreciate it.”
“Don’t count on it tomorrow.”
“But they were working in teams…”
“I work alone.” He grunted. “You slowed me down. I only did this because you’re new here. Cutting isn’t your field of work.”
“Oh.” I breathed, unsure of what else to say. He didn’t answer, letting me stand there awkwardly.
Glancing around, I noticed how everyone else had fallen into a comfortable scenario. I was the only odd ball in the entire cabin. I turned back to the boy on the bed, hesitantly taking a seat on the very edge.
He moved his arm from over his eyes, giving me a hard stare. But his lips remained closed, so I stayed my ground.
“Your number is 94-2 right?” I asked hesitantly, trying to spark a conversation. I desperately wanted to fall into the ease the others had.
His eyes hardened more, if possible, at my words, “I’m not a damn number.”
I blinked, surprised. “But… Cassan—42-3 told me…”
“I don’t give a damn what that idiot says.” He growled, “Eddie’s right; she’s nothing but a number now. I’m not.”
“Eddie…?” I asked softly.
He rolled his eyes.
“The man that 42-3 always fights with?” I checked.
He nodded curtly.
I licked my lips slowly, my eyes moving over to the elderly man. He sat on his bunk, talking with a boy a few years younger than me. A smile lit up his face. A smile seemed to be rare around here, I noticed. “If you’re not 94-2, then what’s your name?”
“Nat.”
“Nat?” I checked.
Like the bug.
I didn’t say that aloud.
He nodded, his expression one of annoyance at me. I bit my lip, sensing the malice he was radiating towards me.
“I’m Eva.”
It was the first time I had introduced myself to someone as a name in what felt like years. It had only been two days since I had awoken and taken testing, though.
He grunted a response that he heard me.
“Nat’s a pretty cool name.” I commented, “I’ve never met someone named that. I’ve met Nate’s and Matt’s, but never Nat.”
He nodded, “Yeah.”
I stood up, unable to continue the conversation with him any longer. I was doing too much work for this. His eyes followed me as I stood before his bed, fumbling with my hands. I glanced around the cabin once more, my heart panging in my chest that I was unable to fit in.
“Well,” I smiled weakly, running a hand through my hair, “I really just wanted to say thank you for before. I do appreciate it. I know you don’t think much of it but… it means a lot to me. I’m new here and—”
“I’m not retarded, I know you’re new here.”
“I know that I—”
“Whatever. You’re welcome, I guess.” He moved his arm back over his eyes, shifting to get comfortable on the bed.
“Yeah…” I breathed.
Slowly, I climbed up the side of the bunk, lying on my bed.
I never changed out of my work clothes.
********************************
Thanks for the love so far guys. Just so it's clear now, the story will continue in first person in one POV. ^.^ Also, thank you Youngrasshopper for the cover of this. I'm IN LOVE with it. It's so abstractly amazing. (:
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