“Because they’re… trained.”
“Brainwashed, you mean?”
“That wasn’t what I meant, no. It’s just… they go to all those classes. Poised, polite, pretty or whatever.”
“Poised, proper, and polite, you mean.”
“Right. That. I know they don’twantto go in, but it’s tradition.”
Mitch shakes his head at me, throwing an incredulous look in for good measure. “You really think that those girls walk into that tower with no idea whatsoever of what will happen to them on the other side because it’stradition?”
“Why else would they?”
“They’re compelled, of course. It’s the only logical answer.”
“What? How?”
“How? Well, I’m not sure of the actual mechanism, but don’t you think it’s strange that they just… walk in without running? Because, if it were me, I’d run. No way in hell I’d give up my life for the greater good.”
“Fucking hell, Mitch. That’s selfish.”
“Whatever. That’s not the point. The point is, they’re compelled. They don’t have a choice.”
I think about this for a moment, wondering if he’s right. “My father never mentioned this.”
“I have a suspicion that your father didn’t tell you much of anything, Finn.”
Well, I can’t really say anything back to this because he’s not wrong.
Mitch stares at me for a moment. And then, slowly, like he’s making some kind of decision in the same moment, he raises one eyebrow at me. “Did he ever tell you about the Looking Glass?”
“What’s a Looking Glass?”
His scoff is immediate and hearty. “See? You have no idea.”
“And you do?”
“I don’t know what it looks like, but I know he’s got one in here.”
“In where?”
Mitch ignores my question and looks over at the stairs that wind up to the fourth floor in a massive, graceful spiral. His eyes glide over to me. “What’s up there?”
“A desk. A couch. Windows with a nice view. My father’s personal collection of books.”
“But there’s a door too, right?” Mitch is practically smirking now. “One, perhaps, you’ve never seen the other side of?”
“Well… yeah. It leads to the… core, or whatever. That’s what I’ve been calling the massive space in the middle of the upper dome.”
“Let’s go, then. That’s where it is.”
“That’s where what is?”
But he’s already walking towards the stairs and going up them by the time I shake myself out of my stupor and follow.
Mitchell stops at the top and I finish climbing the remaining steps and stand next to him. Then we both turn to the right and focus on the door. I walk over to it and try the handle. But it’s locked.
“Where do you think we’d find the key?”
