Chapter 7

Brielle's aptitude for waking up early wasn't what made her eyes open the next day. It was her stomach rumbling. She and Talin hadn't eaten all day yesterday. HHer stomach gnawed at her, caving from inside out, begging to be filled.

A plan began to formulate. She could make a nice, hearty meal for them, using the stove, not the firewood. After serving the defender her share of the food, Brielle would ask for a blank slate, an opportunity for a new beginning. The two of them assumed things. It was about time to forgive and move on, for the sake of surviving.

Talin wasn't in the kitchen when Brielle got there, neither was she in the connecting bathroom tucked in the barely noticeable section in the corner. That would only leave the living room. There was nowhere else to go.

Surprisingly, even that was empty. There was no sign of her.

Brielle scanned the room, searching for hidden spaces where the defender could have squeezed herself. Did Talin hate her so that sleeping on the floor was a better alternative? Her heart sank. It wasn't too late to ask for a truce, was it? What would she do if Talin's mind was set?

Her eyes inevitably landed on the steel door.

Something about it was different. It shouldn't be angled that way. She drew closer to the entryway to investigate.

Her mouth opened a fraction when she got nearer. The door was unlocked, ajar. She was free to go.

Her hand paused a fingerbreadth from the contraption.

Hold on. What if this was a trap?

The image of Talin's piercing emerald eyes, her curled mouth, and the eagerness for Brielle's disposal came to mind. She could be on the other side of the door, waiting to strike. Brielle touched the brass handle hesitantly. Maybe she was looking too much into it again. The defender could have killed her all day yesterday and last night. Doing it today, involving a door of all things, was nothing sort of anti-climactic.

She wiggled the knob. It was intact and moved unhindered as it should, no sign of a forced exit. That only meant one thing. It was opened from the other side. Who made this possible and what was the reason? Her chest rose in a deep breath. Hanging around here wouldn't do her any good. Besides, her old friend, curiosity, was making it difficult for her to suppress the need to go out and explore. She wanted this. Needed the diversion. Brielle nodded to herself. Let's go.

Her head poked into the hallway.

Just like the last time she was there, no one was around. The walls on either side were bare of decorations. The floor and ceiling were smooth, if not for the blue lights emanating every few spaces from them. But despite the subtle glow, Brielle felt trapped in darkness. Being alone could do that to you. She glanced back to the living room behind her. Staying put could be a plausible alternative too. She could wait until Talin came back and ask what was out there, perhaps make that yummy dish she'd been salivating for while at it.

Decisions weighted on her insides. Stay and be comfortable, or go out and have a small adventure? Which was it?

Her foot inched forward, and she sighed. This was why her skin was full of scars. She was too much of an adventurer, even while it could get her hurt.

Brielle opened the door wider and stepped out to unknown territory. She was careful to swing the door quietly behind her without actually closing the thing. A code was needed to get in and out. It was better to be prepared than sorry.

She went the opposite way from where the woman from before escorted her from before, hoping to make sense of the building's layout on her own. The corridor stretched longer than she'd bargained for. It was like an infinite chain of passageways that sometimes took her to the left or right, depending on which way her gut instructed her to go. At the same time, the silence was killing her. It would have been nice if her footfalls were accompanied by music. Anything would do. She would even enjoy the elevator's jingles.

Brielle wrapped her arms around herself. The thought, as always, lead her back to the memory of her father.

She'd been riding the elevator with him that time, on his way to work. It was a Sunday, his day off, but a colleague called him and requested for his assistance. Being the head of the department, he couldn't say no, not when whatever they were doing called for his immediate attention. He had no choice but to bring his daughter with him to the building.

In the elevator, two government employees stepped in and turned their backs to Brielle and her father. They were uneasy, silent, avoiding eye contact through the shiny four-mirrored-walls that surrounded them in the small compartment. It was when they left the elevator did Brielle ask. "Why are people so awkward when riding this thing?" It wasn't the first time she'd observe this behavior. As long as there were elevators, people appeared troubled.

Her father didn't look up from his notes. He'd been especially busy this week. It didn't come as a surprise to her to see his nose buried in writings. "It's because of the lack of space," he murmured, listening after all. "Humans are uncomfortable when their private space is invaded, so most people stay silent inside the elevator as a reaction." With the hand that wasn't supporting his notebook, he pointed to the ceiling. "Do you hear that?"

Brielle tilted her head and listened. Musical instruments were playing in the background, the flute and violin. "It's catchy," she said.

"As it should. It's for distraction, not for entertainment."

She frowned. "Do I invade your private space sometimes? Is that why you play jazz music in the house?"

Surprise flitted on his face. He lowered his notebook to look at her. "You don't distract me, Brielle. Not one bit. Come here." He bent lower to ruffle her hair when she stepped to him. "Listen to me. I've found something important, something that will change the world. That's why I'm always busy. Everything I'm doing is for you. Don't ever think twice about that."

The elevator dinged.

He straightened his back and ushered her to the lofty lobby of the office. She'd been there once or twice in the past, though she'd never seen it in such a messy condition. Some papers were left on the floor. Half-emptied coffee cups had been neglected on surfaces. A dark stain made by a spill was forgotten near the sofa meant for the guests.

"Thank goodness you're here, Keith," a colleague said to her father. The woman had just exited the office when they arrived and almost ran into them on the lobby. She had blue eyes and a long straight blond hair, but aside from that, everything about her was crooked. The clothes she was wearing were wrinkled and in dire need of laundry. The clipboard on her hand was jammed with papers. She had an air of someone who lacked sleep and sunlight, what with the dark circles around her eyes and her pale skin. "The president will come tomorrow," she continued. "Are we ready for this?"

Keith took hold of the woman's arm and swiveled her around so they were facing the office door. Brielle trailed after the two adults as they entered the headquarters. It was a bigger mess inside than the lobby. The rolling chairs were scattered, pens and files were abandoned on the tables, and the whole workplace reeked of too much coffee.

Brielle glanced at the whiteboard where her father was headed to. Pictures, big and small, were attached to it using magnets. She went closer for a better view. The photos were rendered in high quality, but she didn't understand what she was looking at.

"What are those?" she asked.

"It's a volcano, honey," her father answered dismissively. He was too occupied with his colleague. She was starting to harass him with more questions that Brielle was too young to grasp.

In the distance, the elevator dinged again, followed by the catchy jingle.

"Vincent is here," her father said. He sounded relieved, looked like it too. He'd always thought highest of his friend.

A few seconds after, Brielle caught sight of the slim man with jet black hair. He pushed his glasses up when he entered the office, his eyes falling on her. "Hello little girl."

Back to the present, she leaned away from the wall and wiped her forehead with the collar of her tunic. She hadn't realized that the memory would make a huge impact on her, enough to make her stop in the middle of the corridor. Odd how a smell, a taste, or something as irrelevant as an elevator jingle could make you go back to the past. She covered her face with a hand and sighed. It was too vivid, in full color. The ones in her dreams were no match for the memory produced today.

A cold hand touched Brielle's shoulder, making her freeze. She wasn't inside her head anymore, was she? It wasn't her imagination.

Slowly, she swung around, to be greeted by another person.

Her guard lowered. The woman before her didn't look much older, bigger, or more threatening. She had a milky white complexion, smaller eyes partly occluded by bangs, and thin lips that were seemingly saying something, though no sound was coming out.

Brielle stepped back to look better. The other woman was wearing clothes that identified with Brielle's in some aspects, though they had beautiful stitching of flowers at the collar part. It was impossible not to assume that she too was a slave.

"You scared me for a second there," Brielle said, letting out a whoosh of air. "I thought master Vincent, err, Vincent found me." When the woman blinked at her without a clue, she laughed nervously at her foolishness. It made sense that the woman wouldn't know what she was talking about. They were strangers to each other. She offered a hand for a shake. "Forgive my manners. My name is Brielle."

When the woman blinked at her for the second time, she looked down at her hand to find out what was wrong. Slaves were usually more open to other slaves. Maybe her hand was dirty.

Or perhaps you shouldn't be out of your room in the first place, she thought.

Brielle had a panicked look on her face when she glanced at the woman once more. She'd be in big trouble if this one happened to be a snitch. She prepared herself to run.

Before she could get away, the woman grabbed her hand and pulled. Brielle's heart pounded. She had to make a quick decision. Without a second to spare, she pushed the woman and turned on her heels.

Which way did she come from again? Was it the left? No, it was definitely the right.

She glanced over her shoulder to check if the woman was readying for a scream or was preparing to hunt her down to surrender her to the guards. Neither were a match to her thoughts. The woman simply stood there, gazing at her.

"Aren't you going to snitch on me?" Brielle asked, baffled. The woman shook her head. "Then what? Why aren't you talking? Are you—" A lightbulb sprang in her head, and the next time she looked at her companion, better understanding was present. "Are you perhaps a mute?"

Finally, the woman smiled and nodded.

A blush crept on Brielle's face. She'd been proud to call herself an observer. She should have been more keen and sensitive. "In that case, I'm sorry for thinking horrible things about you," she said sheepishly. "I thought I was caught doing something bad, and you were going to yell for the guards. What's your name? Do you have a way to let me know besides sign language?"

The woman took Brielle's hand and opened her palm. On her skin, letters were traced.

"Mei," Brielle spoke. "What a lovely name." She returned the woman's smile that was warm as the sun. "Do you mind if I ask you another question? You don't have to answer it, but I was wondering. Are you a foreigner? Your eyes are different. I mean. . ." She palmed her face. "I mean, good different. Not that you're ugly, you know. Look at me talking when I'm the one who looks like a ghost.

Mei patted her hand to tell her that it was okay.

Brielle blew out her breath in relief. There was enough bad people in this world as it was, and making acquaintances with the apparently few good ones were important. "Anyway," she said. "Are you from Sector I? Because I am."

Mei shifted her weight, suddenly looking uncomfortable.

Brielle waved her hand. "Like I said, you don't have to answer it. It's just me being curious."

She thought that was that. Mei wouldn't answer the question. But then, after a while the woman nodded, and her lips formed the words "Sector I" silently.

It was encouraging, knowing that they came from the same country, albeit with different reasons. Mei could be a slave brought here by the government to serve. Brielle didn't meet a foreigner like she'd always dreamt of, but she's gained another thing, a new acquaintance. Besides, she'd meet lots of foreigners anyway, in the battlefield.

"This place is like a maze," she said to change the topic. Thinking about the looming competition always drove her crazy. "It would be great if you can show me around, Mei."

The woman shrugged, obviously as clueless as her.

They had more things in common than their countries. They were both lost. "Okay, then. It's up to me." Brielle hooked an arm around her companion, a sense of camaraderie forming. For some reason, she liked Mei already. She had a feeling that they were going to experience more things together.

The exploration was easier with someone by her side. Though Mei was silent, there was comfort in hearing another person breathe, a set of footsteps to accompany her own, and not being alone for once. Brielle was completely at ease with her. She had yet to ask if they grew up in the same city, or the few scattered ones that also belonged to their Sector, but she'd get to that when they were in a safer place, ideally where they could sit and talk longer without the danger of anyone creeping on them.

Brielle hadn't spotted a guard or employee yet, which she found strange. This was a restricted area, so there should be workers milling about, scrutinizing their every move. She didn't discount the possibilities of camera's. However, at the moment, she couldn't feel anyone looking at her apart from Mei.

After walking for what seemed like minutes, Brielle heard conversations down the hall from a very familiar voice. She glanced at Mei and pressed a finger to her lips. When the woman nodded to her, they crept stealthily to where the sound was coming from.

Both of them stopped beside a door. Brielle held her breath to listen.

"We're not sure if everyone is ready for this," a woman said. "It might cause an alarm."

"And when do you think they'll be ready? Thirty years? Fifty years? Another hundred years?" It was Vincent who spoke. "There's no better time than what we have now. We'll all die here if we don't do anything. The plan is finalized. The other leaders from the 21 Sectors have agreed."

"Does your mother know?" the woman prompted.

He paused. "What she doesn't know won't hurt her."

Brielle's curiosity spiked to a sensational level. She wouldn't normally want to intervene with Vincent's work, but his tone was making her edgy. He was more anxious, less careful, his usually honey-voice unmasked by his true feelings. He didn't even try to hide that he was in direct disregard of his mother's orders. For what, exactly? Brielle moved nearer to the clear glass panel on the door to see.

It could have been an everyday meeting. She wasn't so sure. Vincent was seated on the head of a long table, talking to a woman, someone Brielle had seen before. She racked her brain.

Her father's colleague!

She ducked out of sight when the woman turned in her direction. Brielle's heart was pounding. It's been years since she'd seen that person.

She needed answers. Gathering her courage, she adjusted her legs to take another look. The two were back on their conversation, unnoticing her. They were whispering now, which made it hard for her to hear.

Brielle pressed her nose on the glass. There was something on the white board behind them. A picture. Her breath fogged the glass, so she quickly wiped it with her hand.

Goosebumps erupted on her skin. She could be wrong. She could still be dreaming. It looked like her father's research.

Someone grabbed her from behind, yanking her away from the door. "What are you doing there, sneak?" a man said.