The next night, Everett is asleep beside me, his chest warm against my unclothed back, my face resting on his outstretched arm. A few minutes ago, I woke abruptly from my slumber, troubled by a senseless dream of disorienting shapes and lights.
With no idea of when daybreak will come, I stare aimlessly at the slice of pale light spilling in through the crack in the door. Suddenly, the strip of light quietly distorts in and out of view, causing me to jump.
"Everett!" I reach behind me to nudge his shoulder. My voice cuts through the cold silence when I say urgently, "Wake up, it's happening again!"
I feel him groggily lift his head and look up behind me, but by this time, the lights have resumed their typical, unwavering glow.
Turning to face him, I lower my voice and say, "The lights flickered just now, I saw it."
"Mmm, looks like it happens every day," he murmurs, his dark hair mussed up by the mattress. "It must mean something, don't you think?"
"Yeah, but what?"
I see the silhouette of Everett's shoulders rise and fall as he shrugs. He stretches his legs - letting his thigh brush mine - and rests his palm on my back, squarely over the fading bruise caused by the shears that an angry citizen had shoved against me many days ago.
Maybe my emotions are haywire because of the failed Chip in my head, but now, even that slight, sudden touch is as sharp and jarring as slamming straight into a wall. Losing all my need to rest, I shift forward until my torso is flush with his, causing him to let out a soft, low groan that sends a white-hot jolt of desire up my spine. My lips find his in the dark, and as my body braces itself to take over, my mind willingly surrenders.
▲
The days that follow are all the same - a vast, tedious stretch of time that I must endure until Everett and I can be together. My impatience to lie in his arms builds as the daylight softens to deep shades of blue, and the breeze that rustles the leaves grows cooler.
For a while, it feels like there is a hazy film coating everything, immunizing me to our troubles in the Imperium. I'm a lot less perturbed by the citizens' glares and their disdainful whispers. But almost a week later, this compelling euphoria is sullied by a sinking feeling in my chest. I'm faintly aware that these moments are the high before an epic low - a low that is probably looming close in the Imperium's faultless azure horizon.
So, I'm not very surprised when, one day, Everett and I walk into the botanical garden - flashing our bracelets at the entrance - and find all the citizens gathered in front of the tall case that contains our tools and water canteens. Instead of collecting their things and heading to a long day of labor, the citizens are standing in a perfect semi-circle, staring raptly at the smooth glass surface in front of them.
Everett and I position ourselves at the very edge of the group, a spontaneous gap forming between the citizens and us. The glass wall of the case shimmers until a man's image materializes. My spine stiffens instinctively, my hand curling around Everett's when recognition hits: the Foreman.
His thin, flat voice seems to emanate from everywhere at once as he says, "Welcome, citizens. Praise to the Imperium."
"Praise to the Imperium," the citizens echo in response. Everett silently turns his hand until our fingers interlink.
"You have now completed six weeks of duty in the botanical garden. As a reward for your meaningful contribution to the Imperium, you will be relieved from work for the next two days. Your schedules will be altered to include recreation."
The thought of a break - short as it may be - from mindlessly hacking away at the bushes causes me to grin and squeeze Everett's fingers. When I turn to look at the citizens' reactions, I notice with a jolt that they are gratified, too. The tight-lipped smiles on their faces are so starkly different from their usual scowls that I blink in disbelief.
"However, there are inconsistencies with the productivity of this group," the Foreman says, pulling my attention back. "It appears that M929 and F930's productivity figures are far below the others', pulling down the group's aggregate."
I avert my gaze from the glass surface as a set of colorful bars and boxes appear, my smile vanishing as quickly as it appeared.
"A price has to be paid for this lapse," the Foreman continues gravely. "But remember: the Imperium is a collective; when one makes an error, everyone pays the price. As a result, none of you will receive the reward."
The Foreman's image and voice cut out, leaving behind a resonant lull. I bristle against the tension rapidly building in the air, the heat of several dozen glares piercing my skin. Everett - also sensing the shift in the atmosphere - swears quietly and tightens his hand around mine.
My heart races as I turn to glance at the floral arch. The structure is a silent, ornate witness standing just a few paces behind me. But at this moment, it feels like an impossible distance to cover.
"Your fault," a light-haired woman says, jabbing a long, slim finger at us. Her eyes glint with so much malice that I flinch.
Her accusation is like the toll of the towering auburn clock back home - commanding and provocative. The citizens advance towards us in one coordinated motion, forcing us to inch closer to the entrance. The crisp breeze sweeping by seems to still as though the garden itself is holding its breath.
There is a slight tremor in Everett's voice when he mutters, "We've to get away from them. Now."
Swiping my free hand across my brow, I exchange a silent, meaningful glance with him. He gives me an almost imperceptible nod before we both break into a run. Blood pumps along my arms and legs, the white flowers in the archway appearing tantalizingly close.
Moments before we reach the entrance, several things happen at once. Somehow, the alarms at the entry are triggered, the ear-splitting signal ringing across the garden. Everett's hand is wrenched out of mine when someone grabs me from behind. He tries to throw himself in between the woman and me but is intercepted by another citizen.
A wave of rage propels me to break free from the woman's iron grip. Acting purely out of instinct and impulse, I turn and slam my fist against her nose with so much force that my hand comes away bloody. But only a second later, someone kicks me from the side, and I keel over, crashing onto the grassy floor. Everett shouts my name, and I look up just in time to watch him punch one of the men before he's kicked to the ground, too.
A scream escapes my lips as several citizens form a tight circle around me, their feet connecting painfully over and over with my stomach, chest, and legs. I raise my arms to protect my head, my vision blurring with hot tears. My body curls inward on the dewy grass in a desperate attempt to make myself smaller. I am no longer aware of where I'm hurting; every inch of me throbs with unspeakable pain.
A sudden thought interrupts my daze as my anguished cries combine with Everett's to form an ugly, discordant chorus.
Is this how we're going to die?
Just as I'm coughing up a spurt of blood, the citizens' attack stops without warning. Disoriented and woozy, I don't protest the set of arms that lift me, causing fresh spasms to pinprick my limbs. I feel myself being carried out of the botanical garden, but the only sounds I can hear are that of my own ringing ears and pounding pulse.
It takes a grueling amount of effort to raise my head, and when I do, I see a similar set of arms carrying a bleeding Everett in front of me. I try to call out to him, but only a soft sob comes out before my head falls back. And then, instantly, everything fades to black.
Hey guys,
Thank you so much for reading! Please vote and comment if you're enjoying this story so far.
In the following chapters, you'll get a better understanding of why the citizens acted so violently all of a sudden. Also, I'm very sorry if you found the violence in this chapter to be too graphic, please let me know if it was.
Stay safe and healthy, everyone. ♡
Love,
Amethyst