|Beyond the Walls
Author: Bellatrix Bly PM
A mirror- walled microcosm; victims of cruel fate; strange chance of strange acquaintances; all controlled by that one mysterious woman on the hill... STORY BEING FIXED. DANDLION WINE.Rated: Fiction T - English - Friendship/Adventure - Chapters: 10 - Words: 20,816 - Reviews: 16 - Favs: 6 - Follows: 3 - Updated: 02-11-12 - Published: 11-13-11 - id: 2970266
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
The mirror ceiling twinkled with lights forever below it, the thing itself forever out of reach; the building limit in the City was only three hundred feet. Still, I sat there at the top of the school, out of sight of the blank streets below me, staring out at the cut horizon until the artificial wind became too strong and nearly blew me away...
BEYOND THE WALLS
I was afraid to stand up; heights terrified me. So, why, you ask, was I ontop of a building? I was skipping class again. All the doors were locked but the one to the roof, and I needed to get out. It wasn't like we learned much anyway. Teachers show you how to do something, but they never tell you why you should do it. I mean, please, where are we supposed to use algebra in a place where you're not allowed to? The education quota was pointless. If I knew I was going to use it, I would've actually paid attention to it.
Back inside the school, the air was chilled to a healthy, germ- murdering sixty degrees Fahrenheit. The halls were painted gray or left as open concrete, City propaganda covering the walls. The only windows were in the solid classroom doors, tiny and wired criss-crossedly with metal. I'd never seen a prison- there were none in the City- but later on I'd be able to make out the similarities.
Glancing into each classroom as I passed them, I could see the crowds and crowds of blonde students, all bulky and strong but with pin straight hair and small facial features. A shock or two of brown or red could be found here or there. Every one of them was being brainwashed to some extent. See why I needed to get out?
I was an odd- bug girl, here in the City. As pointed out, most people were blonde and the furthest thing from delicate. I was freckled; had big, blue eyes; sported long, super- curly black hair; and was tall and thin. I escaped willingly from droning machines telling me what to do, only ever truly listening to and obeying my older brothers. I had brothers; that in itself was strange.
The ending bell rang, one monotonously- long tone, and the classroom doors opened mechanically. Only when the tone ended did people begin to leave. The halls quickly filled up, brightened by the glare of yellow hair. No one carried any books; there were none in the City. Why? Something about offensiveness and trouble.
So there I went, walking about, following the current of kids, twelve through twenty, out the doors. Curfew was in an hour, so many of them hurried onto the express rail-busses- no pedestrian traffic that way- and the transports sped away, leaving everyone else in metaphorical dust. I walked out into the slim street, not even bothering to look both ways; few cars, little danger. Tall, concrete buildings with brick- finished sides rose up on the other side, large numbers marking each with a bright, unmistakable address.
No. 451208 was mine.
There were no rich or poor people, no favoritism of race, no profit or loss to the individual, when it came to home. Everyone had the same apartment, the same layout, the same number of people in the home. For three people, there was two rooms and a bathroom. Laundry was up the street. Food was given out at school.
Thirteen floors up, either by stairs or by the elevator, and a short walk down the white hall to Door 17 brought me home. There was no lock on the door- who needed one in such a safe place as the City? I went in, closing the door gently behind me.
"Pollux?" I asked.
The first room, consisting of my few possesions (bed stuffs, clothes) was empty. Halfway across the concrete wall on my left was the door to my brothers' room; against the wall opposite me was the two- doored bathroom. I peeked into the boys' room, but it was empty, too. The window was open.
Pollux, the oldest of the three of us, was sitting on the fire escape, legs hanging over the railed end, staring into space.
"Pollux, you okay?" I asked from the inside the window.
He didn't look at me but dropped his head down to his chest.
"What happened?" I asked.
I carefully placed my foot onto the fire escape, and feeling it sway slightly, held my breath. The ground far below seemed to warp and bend, but I clutched the railing and sat down next to my older brother. His face was pale, eyes downcast. He gave me a sideways look as if to see if I was really sitting there against my better judgement. I gave him an uneasy smile, which made him smirk, some colour returning to his cheeks. He took off his big glasses and cleaned them with his shirt.
"How was school?" he asked.
"You first," I answered, suspicious.
He put his glasses back on and sighed.
Kara- the tenant across the hallway; blonde, green- eyed, but slim and nice. She often came over to visit. The last time I'd seen her, she'd been kissing Pollux. The thought made me blush; romance didn't very common here.
"Where'd she go?" I asked him, truly curious- I'd liked Kara- but Pollux just stared down at his feet. Quietly, he muttered, "I don't know. Nobody knows. There's already another person living in her apartment."
I froze. Kara was gone? That far gone? Disappearances were common in the City, though not for the reason you might expect. There were no felons of any kind, thus no felonies. That's why there were no prisons. So, what do we do with people who don't stick to the rules? We expell them. The government expells them. From the City. One thing we actually learn in school is that for as long as anyone can remember, there's been war outside the City. Beyond those far-reaching, mirror- lined walls, there's a razed wasteland full of nuclear stuffs and junk. If you don't stick to what the government says, you get thrown out there to fend for yourself. The thought of Kara, sweet and delicate and bright, in a place like that made me feel sicker than the heights I was sitting at. I bet my face was pale, too.
I should've said something to make Pollux feel better. Maybe "Don't worry, I'm sure she'll be back"? "Maybe she just moved"? None of it would do any good.
We didn't know it, but this was only the start.
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