I take one last look behind me, then pull the door open.
It’s dark inside, but when I move forward a little, small lights pop on along the floor. Just a few. Just enough for me to gather my nerve, look over my shoulder one last time, step in, and allow the door to close behind me.
My heart is beating wildly at this point, so much so I’m nearly out of breath even though I’m standing still.
Fear, Jasina. That’s fear you’re feeling.
I don’t like the fear, but I can control it. So I take a moment to close my eyes, slow my breathing, and think of the mission and what I’m actually trying to accomplish here.
The standard line is freedom. That’s what we’re after. To be free of this god and his tower. To stop the Extractions. To make the future brighter for all the people of Tau City.
Normally, most people don’t think about the Spark Maidens. They have been tricked into accepting them through the use of this clever Choosing campaign and by celebrating, as well as envying, the luxurious decade of extravagance that will be bestowed on the nine women who will be spared.
But this time it’s not going well, this delusion Tau City has talked itself into. Nine women have been ritualistically sacrificed to the god in the tower and people are beyond nervous now. They’re on the verge of panic, as is evident from the outbursts on the tower stage tonight by Gemna and Finn.
Of course, Tau City should’ve been this unsettled about Imogen and all the other number ones who came before her. Butpeople are slow to accept that they are stupid. And I suppose the god has done us a favor by calling all the Spark Maidens in like this. It puts the whole thing right up in people’s faces.
When I open my eyes again, my heart has slowed and my feet move forward.
The lights pop on as I move. I’ve seen them act this way in a few places up-city, so while it’s not common, it’s not completely foreign to me.
The lights are helpful. Especially when I come to a stairwell leading down. As I descend, I can detect a hum. And by the time I get to the bottom, the hum is more of a rumble. Like there are machines down here.
I’m barefoot, and the ground down here is flat, and hard, and a little bit wet. When I look up, there are pipes—some of which are leaking, and explain the wetness. The passage at the bottom of the stairs only leads one way. I take a moment here to orient myself and decide that I am under the canal and the passage leads across it. Not a bridge, but a tunnel.
Right to the Extraction Tower?
Makes sense, so I follow it until I come upon another stairwell, which goes up. A long way up. And after climbing many flights of stairs I realize that there are no doors to exit out. There are no choices to make, so I keep climbing.
Finally, when I am winded, and exhausted, and ready to just sit down and take a nap—damn the consequences—I realize this is the end of the stairs. I’m at the top. And when I arrive on the landing, there is a door to my right.
I pause, catch my breath, try to stop the fear, fail, and then just keep going. Walking right up to it and reaching for the handle.
What is on the other side of this door? I have no clue. But I push it open anyway. Just a crack. Just enough for a tall, thin beam of light to enter my darkness.
I hear voices. Muffled, but recognizable. It’s Finn and his friend—or whatever he is these days—Mitchell Davies.
Finn is being loud. “She’s gone, Mitch. And I did that!”
“You had no choice, Finn. Just… you’re tired, man. You’re beat. You need to rest. It’s been a really fucked-up week. And the next Choosing will be here before?—”
“Fuckthat.” Finn doesn’t even let him finish. “Fuck that, Mitch. I’m not doing this.”
“You’re not doing…what?”
“The Choosing. It’s not even gonna matter. The Council told me—” But he stops.
I can’t see them—they are in another room across the open space in front of me—but I don’t need to see Finn’s face to deduce that he just said something he wasn’t supposed to.
“The Council told you what?” Mitch sounds pissed. Possibly at being left out.
“Never mind. It’s not important. Just go, OK? Go and take everyone with you.”
“But the cooks. It’s nearly breakfast time. They’re already?—”
“I don’t care!” Finn yells this. And it is followed by a long, dramatic silence on Mitch’s part. Then he’s there, in the doorway of the room across the room, and I slink back, letting the door I’m holding open close to just a sliver as I watch Mitchell Davies leave by way of a staircase going down.
About a minute later I can just barely make out his voice somewhere else in this building, telling the cooks, or whoever, to get out and go home. The Master would like his privacy.
