I settled back in my seat, recognizing Tiberius’ voice at once. He appeared in the threshold a moment later, taking up the entire doorway as he entered.
“You’ll be happy to know you disrupted water services to Sanctuary for over six hours this afternoon," he informed me. "Fortunately, the issue has been resolved. You have a lot of pissed off welders to face tomorrow. I won’t defend you. You’ll have to pay the piper on your own for this one.”
I snorted at the pun, but Tiberius’ frown only deepened.
“I suppose you’re quite pleased with yourself,” he snapped.
I just shrugged.
“This is not a game, Adrian,” he said then, slamming a fist on the table between us so quickly I couldn’t help but jump. “These are people’slives. You don’t understand what such a disruption can cause. Sanctuary is in a delicate balance enough as it is. Any inexplicable change in routine—”
“Don’t lecture me about our duty to those above ground, Tiberius,” I growled then, narrowing my gaze as I turned to glareback at him. “Not when I seem to be the only one interested in getting back to them, in telling them the truth.”
“What good would that do, Adrian? Have you thought about that? When the people up there know where they get their supplies from, when they know where their Culled loved ones go, when they understand whose manual labor it is that provides them with the goods they have, what do you suppose might happen then?”
I frowned but didn't answer.
“You think they’ll want to join us?” he asked, nearly scoffing at the idea. “You think they’ll give up the lives they live in the sun to toil down here in the dirt? You think they’ll sign up for agriculture duty? For welding in the dark? For mining the stones that cobble their streets? No. Of course not. And when they don’t and the people down here learn that those who they've spent their whole lives providing for wouldn't do the same for them, what happens then? When the fields are abandoned, the mines left to disrepair, the livestock free to roam and die as nature intends, what happens to all of us then, Adrian? When we havenothingto live on?”
I just stared at him, forcing every ounce of hatred I could into my expression. I would never admit it but I knew he had a point. As cruel as it was, as negative of a view of the world as it portrayed, I knew he was right. I wouldn’t have left even my shoddy Third Ring apartment to dwell in any of the levels Underground. I wouldn’t have given up the waitress gig I hated to mend stitches or bend spoons all day. Who would? So Tiberius was right. The reunification of our people would destroy them. But did that mean we didn’t deserve at least the chance to make that choice? To try and fail on our own, because of our own choices, rather than ones the gods made for us eons ago?
“You claim to preserve life,” I finally replied, leaning in as I spoke. “But what sort of life are you preserving, Tiberius?”
He blinked at me, moving back ever so slightly. The anger was still there, a burning fury in his eyes that didn't bank. But I saw the uncertainty as well, the seed I'd planted with so simple a question.
He was right. We both knew it. But I was right too. And where did that leave us?
“What did you hope to accomplish with the water?” he asked then. He made a show of being exasperated with my arguments but I could hear the breathy tone of voice and knew I'd gotten to him, at least somewhat. “What sort of message does it send, the first disruption in water services in centuries?”
“The right person will know to ask questions,” I replied, sitting back again and crossing my arms with a shrug. I knew exactly who I hoped would have noticed the disruption, who I knew would question it and search for answers even when none were forthcoming. Milo. I had to trust in Milo. He was my only chance now.
“So will the wrong ones,” Tiberius muttered, shaking his head. “And the wrong questions as well. They’ll blame each other, you know. They always do. And why not? They don’t know we exist and they worship theGeistto such extremes that they’ll never blame them for such misfortune. Take the water and they turn on each other, Adrian. It’s how they are. And who do you think suffers the most when Sanctuary loses water? I’m willing to bet it isn’t the High Houses.”
I frowned, internally cursing once more. I was growing extremely tired of Tiberius being right all the time. He waited for me to answer, likely seeking some sort of recognition of the danger I'd caused above. But I didn’t give it to him. So he simply shook his head again and stood slowly from the table.
“Your supervisory duties have been suspended indefinitely,” he informed me with the tone of one delivering a rehearsed speech. I wondered how long it had taken to decide my punishment, how long they'd known before he'd come to tell me. “You'll earn them back when you're able to prove yourself worthy of our trust once more. For now, you'll only be allowed on level one and in the residential quarters. You're not to set foot on a work floor without clearance or accompaniment by eitherRoiben,Mosi, or I.”
“Fine,” I replied, but he was already gone, black uniformed officers following after.
They didn’t close the door behind them but rather left it wide open. That was all the sign I needed that I was free to leave. I looked down at the cuffs and phased through them with half a thought. They fell to the floor and clanked against the tile so loud the sound echoed down the hall. I left them behind, breezing through the door and toward the stairs they'd dragged me up mere hours ago.
It was late now. Everyone had already filed off to their individual quarters for the evening, either having already fallen into bed after a long day of work or filling the various bars and restaurants on other levels for a night of letting off steam after the same. I avoided the elevators all together and made my way across the uncharacteristically quiet first level to the residences across from the administration building in which I'd been held.
I headed up to my apartment without encountering a single soul, slid my key into the lock, and froze at the voices I heard on the other side.
“—sure they already yelled at her,” a familiar female voice was speaking. “Doing so again won’t help, Darius. You can’t—”
“They should yell at her!” my oldest friend exploded from within my apartment. “We all should! You spent six hourswelding those pipes back together, Roxy. Are you really telling me you aren’t pissed at her too?”
“She’s still adjusting. She—”
“She’s acting like a child!”
Unable to stand and listen to more, I turned the key and pushed the door open. Their argument halted at once. Both Roxy's and Darius’ gazes snapped to mine from where they stood in the center of my living room. Kane stood between them, arms outstretched as if in an effort to keep them from coming to blows. Hugh sat on the arm of my couch nearby, head bowed, frowning.
I let my gaze fall over each of them in turn before closing the door slowly behind me and crossing the room to drop my keys onto the kitchen counter. No one said a word, but I could practically feel Darius bursting with the effort of keeping it in. So when my keys were deposited, I sighed and turned back to them.
“Go on then,” I said. “Yell at me.”
