Jacy studied my face. “You never cared before. Why now?”
“The lower levels feel…odd.”
“With twice as many Pop Cops patrolling, people are scared and nervous.”
“I get that, but…” How to word my questions without giving too much away? “But they have the chance to…make their life better, and I don’t know why they don’t take it.”
“You should know why. Do you really need me to spell it out for you?”
I nodded.
He shook his head. “It’ll cost you two more devices.”
Figures. “Only if it isn’t some bull.”
“It’s not. This is serious.” He stepped toward me and lowered his voice. “Despite what you think, scrubs aren’t stupid. We put it together. One missing prophet, Cogon arrested for hiding him, and LC Karla asking questions about you.” He held up three fingers. “If we rat you out to the Pop Cops, then the prophet is found and you and Cog are recycled.” His fingers curled in and formed a zero with his thumb. “We’re left with nothing. No hope, Trella, is worse than fear. Right now, we hope you’re up to something that will benefit us all.”
All feeling drained from my body. Logic leaked from my brain and panic filled the empty space. “And if I’m not?”
“No one will believe you. See we know something big is going on. Big enough to cause the Queen of the Pipes to come down from above and mingle with her fellow scrubs.”
“But…but…” My vision turned to static. I drew in a few breaths. The air smelled musty and damp with a hint of body odor. “But what if I fail?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“What?”
He gave me a sad smile. “It’s the effort, not the results that matter.”
Coming from the man who was all about getting something in exchange for his information and services, I didn’t believehim. The scrubs were either holding out for a better offer from the Pop Cops or waiting for me to perform a miracle for them. Sheep don’t risk their necks for other sheep.
Yet, my conviction faltered when I discovered what clogged the air shaft above the kitchen a few minutes past hour eighty. Food containers filled the duct. Enough food to feed me and Domotor for weeks.
I peered through the vent and watched the bustle of the kitchen scrubs. Pop Cops also kept an eye on them, but they still managed to hide food despite the danger.
They counted on me. Again panic threatened to overwhelm me. If nothing changed in the lower levels, the scrubs would be disappointed and upset for risking the little comforts they had.
Shoving the confused terror into a deep corner of my mind, I concentrated on the task at hand, getting the food to Domotor’s hideout. With my makeshift skid and the troll’s help, I transported all the containers to the air shaft over his quarters then continued to work my shift.
The hours crept by. Each time I changed air ducts, I kept expecting to be arrested. When I encountered the first RATSS, I almost screamed. The thing focused its antennae on me.
“Name and birth week,” a mechanical voice ordered.
I answered.
“Noted. Continue working,” it said.
It drove away and my heart resumed beating. I was questioned by two more RATSS in two other shafts.
By the time hour ninety arrived, I could have climbed a vertical shaft without effort. Grateful to be done, I returned the cleaning troll to his closet.
“There you are,” my supervisor said. Her eyebrows pinched together with annoyance and a red cuff hung from her fingers.
I bit down on a sarcastic reply. No sense upsetting her further.
“I waited for you at the end of your last shift, but you never showed. Where were you?”
My thoughts raced. “My cleaning device broke in the shaft and I had to repair it. Took me an extra hour to finish.” I hoped she hadn’t waited an hour.
