Oh yes, a young one probably around seventeen-hundred weeks old. Only about two hundred weeks older than me, but the adults coddled their children in the upper levels, babying them until they were eighteen-hundred weeks old.
I pointed to my work suit. “Guess.”
“Oh. Yes. Well. Sorry,” he said. His pale skin flushed pink.
My head cleared. He seemed in no hurry to call for help, probably didn’t even know he should be reporting me. I wasn’t taking any more chances; I climbed onto the couch, trying to reach the air duct. It was another meter beyond my grasp. The vent was in the middle of the ceiling, and I couldn’t use the rivets to scale the side wall.
My first attempt to jump was unsuccessful. I thumped to the floor with an alarming bang.
“Stop it,” he said.
His firm tone gave me pause. “Why?” I asked.
“With all the noise you’re making, someone will hear you and come to investigate.”
“Why do you care?” I shot back at him. “I’m the one who isn’t supposed to be here. It’s not likeyou’llget in trouble.”
He frowned. “I don’t want anyone to know about this room,” he said. “It’s where I come for privacy.”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “What? You have to share a room with a brother?” I guessed. “Poor boy,” I mocked. “Try sharing a barrack with three thousand others.”
Fury flashed in his eyes. But I had to give him credit for controlling his temper.
“When I’m here,” he said evenly, “no one can find me. No one can give me assignments. No one can harp at me about shirking my duty. No one makes me pledge loyalty to the Controllers.”He stepped toward me. “And I’m not about to give it up because some scrub doesn’t have the sense to be quiet.”
“Well, then, it’s to our mutual benefit that I disappear and we both forget about this little incident. Agreed?”
“Yes. No. Yes, but I want to know what you’re doing up here.”
I thought fast. “Cleaning the shaft like a good little scrub.” Climbing back onto the couch, I said, “I’m finished, so I’ll be returning to the lower levels where I belong. Can you give me a leg up?”
He laced his fingers together, but before I could step into his cupped hand, he pulled back.
“What?” I asked. “If I’m caught here, I’m in trouble.”
“What it’s like in the lower levels?”
“Why?”
“I’m curious.”
“Go log onto the computer, look under scrubs,” I said.
“I already tried. All I found was one paragraph of information. I want to know more.”
“You shouldn’t. Curiosity is a fatal trait in here.”
He set his legs slightly apart and tucked his hands under his crossed arms.
I sighed at his stubbornness. “Imagine every space in this room filled with people. Moving from one end to the other is like swimming in a thick human tank. Constantly being jostled and pushed. Smells of scrubs invading your senses, overwhelming you to the point of nausea. Always waiting in line for food, water and for the washroom. Mind-numbing routine with change a rare event. Being battered by the noises of people eating, moving, snoring, mating, and talking over the constant roar of the machinery. In the lower levels, there is no quiet place. No peace.”
I drew a deep breath. My speech had come in one burst. The young man had unknowingly unleashed a deluge, which hadpropelled him onto the couch. Looking around the chamber, I said, “To a scrub, this room is paradise.”
We stared at each other for a few heartbeats.
“No one should live like that,” the man said in a quiet voice.
“Over eighteen thousand and counting do.” I tried to be flippant, but my words were heavy. Our population bulged. Children were our future, said the Pop Cops. But why? Especially since the future looked like life crammed into every available space. None of the scrubs had a clue.
