There was a knock on the door. Lucy knew that the doors in the pods were unlocked, so a knock was strange—someone from outside their family was waiting to be let inside. Feigning disinterest, Lucy kept her eyes on the door as her mother, with a sigh, left her post to answer it.
As Maxine opened the door wide, Lucy, from her vantage point on the floor, saw the girl from her first day standing outside in the hall. The one who had peered at her and closed the door.
“Hello, Cassandra,” Maxine said with a sigh. “Galen went to the Center…then he’s an assistant cook in the Sky Room today. He’s not here, if that’s who you’re looking for.”
The girl named Cassandra ignored Maxine’s exasperated expression and clear dismissal. Unlike anyone Lucy had ever met before, the girl disregarded Maxine’s outstretched arm across the threshold and slithered her way into the King family residence.
“No, no,” the girl said and she walked straight up to Lucy. “I came to see her.”
Maxine’s shoulders slumped, and she looked back out into the now-empty hallway, and then shut the door. “Come in, of course,” she said to the closed door before turning around.
Lucy was able to get a good look at the girl without moving. Her sleek black hair was parted down the middle and braided into two long plaits; large golden hoops dangled from her ears, and pale pink lipstick glistened on her lips. Despite all the surrounding factors of their living situation, the girl—Cassandra—was stylish in a red shirt-dress and a yellow belt. She spoke with a slight accent, although Lucy couldn’t place it.
She had to be close to Lucy’s age, although even age seemed relative in the System. Her dark skin was flawless and smooth.
But it was her eyes that caused Lucy pause. One eye was the color of night and it was so dark that even the pupil blended into the iris: just a dark black circle. Her other eye was a kaleidoscope of color: one half started off as brown, but toyed with turning green or gold, before settling on a sky blue. The effect was so arresting that Lucy couldn’t stop staring.
“So. We meet. The girl who arrived late to the party,” the girl said, looking down on Lucy’s rolled up body. “Come on. Get up. Let’s go.”
Lucy shifted into a sitting position and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Go where?”
“Around. Don’t you want to?”
“Not really,” Lucy answered to the stranger. “I don’t know you.” She stole a look to her mother who stood back, but appraised the situation with a look of annoyance rather than relief. It was written all over her face: Don’t come in here and achieve what I could not. Lucy looked between her mother and the new girl and back again.
Cassandra raised her eyebrows and smirked. “Of course not. That’s why you should come. You won’t ever meet anyone like this. Consider me your welcoming committee.”
With one final look to her mom, Lucy nodded. “Sure,” she agreed out of spite and rose to her feet. Tucking Grant’s letter into the waistband of her pants, she looked over at her mother again for permission—with raised eyebrows and an expectant silence—and after a long stare, Maxine motioned for the door.
“When will you be back?” her mother asked crossing her arms.
Cassandra shrugged. “By curfew?” she suggested, but Maxine laughed at her reply. The girl didn’t cower. “Fine, fine, Mrs. King. Let’s say by dinner. Lucy has a lot to see.”
With visible frustration, Maxine relented. Turning away and placing her palms flat on the apartment’s small kitchen table. She bent over, as if in prayer, and didn’t say anything else as Cassandra and Lucy exited the apartment and walked out into the sterile hallway. The elation Lucy felt at winning against her mother’s will was quickly replaced by confusion and apprehension—did she really want to follow this girl blindly throughout the System?
After the door was shut and they had meandered a few feet away, the girl flipped her long braids over her shoulders and smiled. “Parents in this place have become so predictable. They want you to buy in to the same lie they have. So much so that they’re eager to do things they never would have before. They’re permissive, to a point, and to a fault.”
“I’m not sure I’ve found that to be the case,” Lucy said, thinking only of Grant.
“Cass,” she said, sticking out her hand toward Lucy’s middle. Lucy grabbed her palm and gave it a small pump. “Your next door neighbor.”
“Lucy. King.”
“I know. The Head Technician’s daughter.”
“So, how did you end up down here?”
Cass smiled. “Your dad orchestrated the reason we’re here. My dad is the man behind the place.”
“Oh yeah?” Lucy asked, her head still foggy and her mind still fixated on Grant and Grant alone.
“Yuppers,” she replied. “Claude Salvant. Architect and designer behind all the Systems. Overseer of Building for this one. So,” Cass flashed Lucy a wink, “keep your complaints to yourself.”
Joking or not, Lucy couldn’t even bring herself to smile. Cassandra seemed to notice her audience was struggling. They approached the door at the end and pushed their way through, then walked to the elevator and Cass called it to them by placing her palm on the device by the door. Once inside the elevator, Cass turned to Lucy and smiled.
“So, this place…for all its high-tech perks…has one downfall.” She leaned in conspiratorially toward Lucy’s ear. “Paper-thin walls.”
“Ah,” Lucy mumbled and she understood the implication. “Well, then I apologize for the meltdowns.”
“Seems like they were a bit warranted. But I never judge what happens in someone else’s family. Scout’s honor.” She placed her hand over her heart. “Look, Lucy. Here’s what’s going to happen. You with me? We’re going to stop by the Center. Make sure some people see us. We might disappear into one of the theater rooms, chat it up with the boys who hang around there. Then you and I are going to make a little secret journey,” Cass lowered her voice and leaned in. “Follow my lead and don’t ask any questions. And understand that I get annoyed when people can’t obey these simple instructions. Got it?”
The doors opened and Cass walked Lucy out into a hallway. Double doors five feet away were held open and Lucy could hear the din of voices and conversations, people laughing and carrying on like normal. Cass made a move to walk toward the room, but Lucy stalled.
“Wait. We just met. And you’re taking me on some kind of—” Lucy noticed Cass widened her eyes and shook her head once as a warning, so she stopped mid-sentence and crossed her arms over her chest. She was forever going to be the odd one out down here. “Why are you doing this? You don’t owe me anything.”
Cass smiled as if she had expected Lucy to ask her this. “I already told you, ma cheri
. Les murs parlent
. Anything you’ve said above a whisper,” she tapped her right ear with her pointer finger a couple times and then giggled. “I already know enough. I know you needed out of that shitty…with apologies to my dear Papa…apartment. Now, are you ready for an adventure?”
If Lucy had ever admired Salem’s clumsy flirting, it was only because she had not been introduced to the fine art of pure, unadulterated charm. Twenty-year-old Cassandra Lourdes Marie Salvant oozed charisma at every turn—her two-toned eyes were sharp and clear as she meandered around the Center, flitting in and around different groups of people, touching them gently on the arm as she went—documenting her presence with a smile or a nod, and sometimes with a one-liner or compliment too. People’s heads followed her as she roamed. Everyone knew her, deferred to her, welcomed her with smiles, hugs, and genuine excitement.
Lucy shuffled behind, her heels still sticking out of the back of her shoes, her arms crossed over the shirt she had worn for two days straight. She had never been so viscerally aware of her own deficits. For a while she was embarrassed that Cass had to be seen with her, but soon she realized that no one seemed to notice her—eyes and attention went to the dark beauty first, following her path visibly as if she left behind an actual trail of pheromone.
The Center was a recreation hall—roughly the size of Lucy’s old high school gym back at Pacific Lake. It was set up with air hockey tables, darts, and a snack shack. For the younger set, there was an indoor playground. Monitored by a larger woman with a whistle, the kids slid down slides and crawled through tunnels, climbed up ropes, and played organized games of capture the flag or tag.
Lucy’s siblings were here. The twins seemed to be playing a variation of the game tetherball with some other kids their age and Harper ran gleefully through the indoor park in pure screaming bliss. Galen hung around a picnic table with some other kids, and they were engaged in a card game Lucy didn’t recognize. But the smile on his face indicated that he was having fun. He looked up and saw his sister and registered shock and then amusement, he motioned her over, but Lucy declined and pointed to Cass. Galen followed her finger and then nodded, as if arriving with the beautiful next-door neighbor was the most predictable thing in the world. He waved and went back to his cards, and Lucy lingered, watching him, before moving on.
Cass must have noticed Lucy’s face as she took in the scene; she stopped her trek and backtracked, leaned into her new friend and whispered, “Stimulation for the body is good for the mind. Children are encouraged to play. Plus, it’s hard to be cooped up, no? My dad designed this play space with kids of all ages in mind. I’m quite fond of it.”
Everyone else seemed to be, too.
Lucy loved the way Cass spoke to her—voice low and lilting, like every word had power and meaning.
Cass kept moving and she stopped to chat with a group of young women sitting on some couches, engaging them in a conversation about a book. Then Cass slipped her arm through Lucy’s and patted her bicep with a loving tap. “Look, look. A movie theater too. He did think of everything, didn’t he?” And Lucy couldn’t tell if Cass was filled with genuine admiration for her father or if everything she said was cut with an undercurrent of cynicism.
Sure enough, just beyond the ruckus of the Center gym, there was a theater—small in size and scope compared to the megaplexes Lucy usually graced, but a theater nonetheless. People lounged in beanbags and on blankets and sat glued to the screen as some black and white classic played in the foreground.
“You think we’ve been seen, ma cheri?” Cass asked and she patted Lucy’s arm again. “You and Galen had a moment. So. Let us retire from here.” Cass directed Lucy into the theater room and, holding her hand, placed her up against the back of the wall. She waited, watching the crowd and then watching the screen. Then, as the music swelled and the group’s attentions were focused forward, Cass opened a small door in the side of the theater and as quick as a wink, ducked inside and shut the door behind her.
They were back in a hallway, long and sterile, with no other doors nearby. Cass looked at Lucy and erupted into a smile.
“Your face!” she exclaimed. “So afraid! My adventures are top-rate, I promise. But…” she brought her finger up over her lips and made a shushing sound. Then, still holding on to Lucy’s hand, she pulled her down the hall and through another set of doors, through a second hall and another set of doors; until Lucy was altogether turned around inside the giant belly of the System.
Finally they seemed to have discovered a dead-end. Cass led Lucy right up to the metal wall and with a wide smile she leaned down to the floor and pushed her hands against the metal. The wall gave under her touch and slid upward three feet, exposing a darkened tunnel.
“I don’t think so,” Lucy declined as politely as she could. “I have this fear…of the dark and small spaces. It started with this fruit cellar at home and I just don’t think…”
Cass didn’t seem to hear Lucy’s mumbled worries, because she dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the exposed tunnel, disappearing into the darkness. Swearing under her breath, Lucy followed, taking a second to clutch Salem’s necklace and send up a tiny prayer to the God in charge of phobias. As she crawled, the darkness swept over her and she couldn’t see anything. Panic crept through her.
“Cass?” She called and her voice echoed. Behind her she heard the wall slide back into place and she was in total darkness, alone. “Cass?” Her voice rose with worry.
Still on all fours, Lucy scrambled forward, hoping to find her friend. But before she could get very far, the tunnel flashed with light. Overheads snapped on and Lucy covered her eyes with her hands and let her sight adjust to the view. Cass stood next to the far wall by a light switch panel, an impish grin twitching on her face. They were in a small room with nothing but an elevator waiting for them.
“Stand up, silly girl. You have room,” Cass instructed and then she hit the elevator button and the door swung open for them immediately.
With a sigh, Lucy stood up and brushed off her hands and then climbed onto the lift. Cass pushed a single button. Up and up and up the elevator rose. And Lucy couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps her father was ignorant of the geography of the System. They were exceeding the time it took to get to the Sky Room. By the time it started to worry her, the elevator clunked to a stop. The doors opened. But they opened to a wall. A brown wall pushed up against the open doors, blocking them from exiting and Lucy looked at Cass for an explanation.
“Push it,” Cass said. “Don’t worry, it’s no trap. You’re so serious, Lucy. Come on, push it.”
Worried about appearing like a spoilsport, Lucy obliged Cass’s instructions and pushed against the wall. With one simple shove, the wall sprung open, revealing an attic-sized room—sparkling clean with a red couch and yellow armchair. A book overturned on an ottoman; a throw-blanket folded neatly to the side. Craning her neck, Lucy realized that the elevator had deposited them close to the surface. Instead of a ceiling, there were thick panes of glass, nearly four inches thick, and they exposed a blue sky, spotted with clouds. The landscape of Nebraska was obscured; the windows just gave those in the room a taste of the earth outside.