“You were gone so long, I had to use the washroom.”
A man-sized, clean track on the floor from the chair to the washroom. His present position made it clear getting into a chair was harder than sliding out.
I stood and helped him back into his seat. My assurance to Cogon that I would take care of Broken Man’s needs seemed foolhardy once I fully realized his physical limitations.
I handed him the food. As Broken Man shoveled the casserole, I realized the ear-aching noise of the power plant wasmuted. Foam had been sprayed onto the walls, and, when I opened the door, a sheet a metal covered the entrance.
When he finished his meal, I took his bowl. The rank aroma of stale sweat filled my nose, and I coughed to cover my expression. From the way he wrinkled his face, I could tell I didn’t smell any better. Funny how people can stand their own stink, but not others. I explained to him what had happened since Cog had been here.
“The lieutenant commander was quite upset about your disappearance,” I said. “Do you know her?”
“Lieutenant commander?” Broken man tapped his spoon against his lower lip. “Which one?”
I blanched for a moment, envisioning an army of LC Karla’s patrolling the lower levels like clones. “Said her name was Karla Trava.”
“I know her. Unfortunately.” He considered. “You never did ask for more information about your biological parents.”
“I’ve been a little busy,” I said. My words laced with sarcasm. “Besides, you fed me a line of bull just to get me to help you.”
“Believe what you will, but watch out for this LC. She’s intelligent, cunning and intuitive. Her family is not only in charge of the Pop Cops, but work closely with the Controllers as well. She’s well connected to all the powerful people.”
“Why worry about the Controllers? Aren’t they just in charge of the uppers?”
“They tell the Travas what to do. And the Travas make all the decisions for Inside. Every admiral is a Trava, and every time an upper links with the computer, a Trava knows. Every mechanical system running Inside has a Trava at the switch.”
“That’s the way it’s always been. Why do you make it sound as if it’s wrong?”
“It hasn’t always been this way. You scrubs know nothing of what goes on in the upper levels. Exactly what the Trava family wants.”
I really didn’t care what the uppers did or didn’t do. My throat burned from the heat and dust, and my short nap hadn’t been enough to fully revive me. “I need more sleep before my next shift.”
“I need more food,” Broken Man said. “I did some exploring. There’s a kitchen here, but no electricity.”
“I’ll turn on the juice, but it may take me a while to get you other supplies. I’ll see what I can do.”
Broken Man nodded even as he frowned at me. “I should get a few hours of sleep, too.”
I helped him into bed and guilt twinged as black dust puffed from the mattress, causing him to choke. It would probably be another twenty hours before I could bring him food and help him shower.
The bedroom and washroom were two small squares adjacent to each other. Both led out to the living area, another square which bordered the equally tiny kitchen. Inside was divided into rectangles and squares. The designers had to be obsessive-compulsives, and I cursed them for their lack of imagination. Again.
Grabbing a couple of drinking glasses from the kitchen, I filled one with water. I set the glasses on the night table beside the bed. When Broken Man peered in confusion at the empty glass, I told him it was for urinating into so he didn’t have to drag his body to the washroom. His face muscles drooped in sad understanding as I waved goodbye.
Reconnecting the electricity to the small apartment proved arduous. If I hadn’t been tired, it would have taken me half the time to find the connectors.
Finally, I found a quiet place to sleep in one of the heating shafts. As I drifted off, an odd thought touched my mind. Why was Inside always heated?
I awoke at hour seventy-nine. Clocks had been installed in every room and corridor of Inside so scrubs couldn’t use the excuse of not knowing the time. I had an hour until my next shift so I headed toward Sector F1’s washroom. Peeling off my sweat-stiffened uniform, I stood under the shower’s warm water. Once I dried off and put on a clean uniform, I checked my tool belt, making sure all my tools were in the right spots and that my flashlight still worked. I wasn’t properly dressed until the familiar weight of my belt settled on my hips.
I fought my way through the corridors to my scheduled airshaft. On the way, I encountered Cog. He scraped paint chips from one of the corridor walls. Patches of rust sprinkled the metal. Another of Inside’s evils, rust was not tolerated and re-painting remained a constant chore.
Glad to see him, I touched his arm. His honey brown-eyed gaze slid in my direction. Tight lines of worry streaked across his sweaty face. Cog pulled the scraper from the wall.
“What’s going on?” he whispered. “Is everything okay with—you know?”
I nodded. “He’s fine.”
Cog pointed with his nose toward the two Pop Cops who hovered at the end of the hall. “They’re watching me.”
