by Maguire, Ily
“I’ve heard they had his eyes removed to try to replicate the Sight.”
“It doesn’t work that way, does it?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” Leland shrugs. “But they replaced his eyes with donor eyes. He still can’t see. Over here Roz,” Leland leads me to an old, plastic couch cushion. “This is where the rest of the regeneratives meet up. Since our time with The Hollow is spent being observed, when we’re not, we come down here. No cameras down here. No doctors. Here we’re free of tests, free of being under a knife. Or a microscope. Free from ourselves.”
“I still can’t believe the people in charge turn a blind eye. Are you sure they aren’t watching us?”
Our conversation is interrupted by someone appearing in the entrance from a tunnel. An attendant wearing navy blue leads a boy by the elbow. The attendant lets go and the boy slides into place with the others, slumped against the wall. The attendant doesn’t look up, but turns and goes in the direction he came.
I look to Leland, who doesn’t seem the least bit phased, but I am. It makes me nervous. Have we been caught?
“Don’t worry so much, Roz.” Leland pats my hand, putting me a bit more at ease, but not enough to be comfortable. I look again at the people lounging around.
“Can they regenerate?” Their eyes are vacant and their lids are half-closed. I try to catch my breath, but I can’t. The air down here is moist and heavy in my lungs. I have to breathe in deep.
“No. They are the ones who accept or reject the regenerating parts,” he answers. There is very little movement from them, even if they’re pacing, like they aren’t just medicated, but over-medicated. I can see why they wouldn’t want to leave. How do they get down here in the first place?
“What do those letters and numbers stand for?” I tip my head toward two boys sitting side-by-side. One has the letter E on a patch sewn onto the left pocket space, and the other boy has the number 9 in the same place on his chest. Both boys look exactly the same with bald heads and translucent skin. Reddish-purple capillaries fan around the dark circles under their eyes.
“Letters stand for sections and body parts. A for abdominal region, which could include a number of organs, T for thoracic. E stands for extremities and could be skeletal or muscular. Numbers are how many days left before cultivation of regenerative cells. That could be anywhere from two days to two years. Those patches change every day.” Leland looks around.
“Are these the people you were talking about before?”
“The disappeared. The Hollow has a constant source of specimens. They get them from institutions all over. No one’s looking for them. They’re the throwaways.”
“No one’s looking for us.” I say under my breath. “What will The Hollow do when they’re done with us? Will they throw us away, too?”
“When they’re done with us, they’ll erase all memory, including muscle memory. All data of our existence will be deleted. Our shells get tossed in the incinerator and that’s that. I don’t think you have to worry about that, though. Most of us regeneratives have a fairly long life expectancy, even here.”
I look my hand over and rub my palm. The bump is gone, but my hand is numb.
“Permanent nerve damage. You’ll get used to it, Roz. We all do.” Leland stands up and extends a hand. I take it.
“What are those?” Standing, I point to small, copper-colored canisters with a pale green patina on them are stacked one on top of the other on a shelf built into the wall. Twelve canisters in a row. Ten rows.
“Human remains,” Leland answers. “Cremations.”
I step closer.
“There aren’t any names on them,” I observe. It’s amazing how an entire human body can be contained in something the size of a small paint canister.
“Do there need to be? No one cares. If anyone did, these wouldn’t be down here, corroding in the underground beneath an asylum.”
I step back.
Leland looks to the people propped against the walls, not awake, not asleep. And then to Tithonus, who sits still, his eyes closed, mouthing something to himself.
“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s get back upstairs. You must be cold and I need some fresh light.”
I look down at my damp gown. A cool breeze and I realize how flimsy it is.
“What about them?” I ask, referring to the zombies. One of which is pacing in front of the tunnel we entered from. He has both a letter and a number on his shirt. C and 18.
“What about them?” Leland repeats. “You mean him?”
I nod. I don’t want to get too close.
“Cranium. Eighteen days. He’s harmless. We’ll just walk around him.” Leland takes my hand and I stay close. Giant silver staples hold together the raised pink skin of the boy’s skull in the back. He stops and turns toward us. I grip Leland’s hand tighter. He squeezes back. The boy’s eyes are milky-white like Tithonus’s used to be.
“Where do they go?” I ask once we pass him. “They don’t stay down here do they?” We’re in this sub-basement. It can’t get any lower than this.
“They do. They’re brought upstairs by an attendant for tests or surgery. There is no recovery. When it’s all done, they’re brought back down. The ones that aren’t being used at the moment are kept in freezer lockers in the morgue.”
“Is it much worse for them?”
“Yes and no. I don’t know if they know anything different at this point. When it seems like they are getting back to normal, regaining some sense of internal regularity, their blood is let out and they are given another heavy dose of whatever it is that keeps them docile. They put up less of a fight this way and they don’t go through any type of withdrawal.”
“How come they don’t have rooms? There must be room for all of them in this place? Why even come down here at all?”
“Because it’s fairly consistent down here temperature-wise. There isn’t any temperature control in most of The Hollow. It’s freezing in winter. Boiling in summer. You won’t experience that because it could harm your cells, so you get a climate-controlled room. All the regeneratives do. The disappeared aren’t treated like the rest of us, though, but they still test better when they don’t have to regulate temperature. Their will to survive has been sorta mutated out of them. They have no free will, no control, and therefore they’re no trouble.
“Are they being farmed? Are their organs being farmed?” We’re heading back the way we came, this trip much quicker than the way down. We’ve already made it to the stairs. The sadness that hung heavy in the air has dissipated.
Leland doesn’t answer.
“What about Tithonus?” I ask, changing the subject slightly. “Will an attendant come back for him, or does he stay down here, too?”
“He has a nurse who will come and get him. His room is elsewhere in The Hollow.”
“Like my nurse? Not an attendant?” Like the men from the morgue.
“His nurse is actually undercover for the Imperial Bead, but no one other than us know that.”
“If he can’t see anything, why does he bother coming down here? The effort alone would be a deterrent, I would think.”
“I dunno. Some sort of wordless, sightless connection with the people down here. They’re calmer when he’s around.”
“Maybe that’s why he was brought here?”
Leland shrugs. We’re back at the grate leading us out of the stairwell.
“I can’t stay here, Leland.” I state.
“You’re right, but I’ll climb up first and then pull you in,” Leland is climbing metal fencing that encloses the stairwell.
“That’s not what I mean.”
“What’s wrong, Roz? We can’t stay here.”
“I’m not meant to be here.”
“None of us were meant to be here, Roz, but we are.” He climbs down.
“How did you—”
“How did I get here? I wasn’t captured. It wasn’t violent and I didn’t realize it until it was too late.”
“I was picked up off the street. I lived in the city. I had friends and a family.”
“A girlfriend?” I try to lighten the mood.
“No,” he laughs.
He’s laughing at me.
He’s pulling himself into the ventilation shaft. He waves his hand at me and I follow him up the railing and onto the fencing.
“I had a boyfriend. Don’t worry, Roz. You don’t need to say anything. We were a bunch of kids that were pretty smart and pretty bored. We did what we wanted, when we wanted. We skipped school a lot. We did drugs. Nothing big. A lot of weed. I was picked up one day with the promise of something to do. More drugs. I was brought here. Not against my will. I haven’t seen anyone since.”
I take his hand and he pulls me up. He crawls ahead and I’m right behind him. I don’t know what to say so I don’t say anything.
“We’re almost there. You ready to go back?”
Again I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything at all.
6
When we get back to my room, I throw myself down on the bed and cry. Everything about this place is depressing, except for Leland. Why did I leave Aegis? I shouldn’t have left my hospital room in the first place. What would my life be like if I never left?
“Why are you here?” I lift my head and ask Leland as he walks around the room. The floor lights are still on, so is Leland’s palm light.
“They were going to use me as one of the disappeared, but with my first tests they found out my genetic code is unique. Mutable and manipulative. They’ve replaced some of my animal cells with plant cells and I’ve been genetically modified with chloroplasts.”
“Is that why you’re—”
“Green?”
“A bit. Yes.” My tears dry on my cheeks.
“The theory is that humans can become their own producers.”
“Does it work?” I ask. He actually looks less green right now.
“Verdict’s still out. But I’ve got a really neat artificial light in my room, to simulate the rays of the sun. I’d give anything to be outside for just an hour!”
“It’s amazing. Unbelievable,” I say, again, under my breath.
Leland’s across the room, picking up a package that has been slipped under the door. He rips it open. The brown paper combusting and then dissolving into thin air.
“Oh, I see they’ve given you a new outfit. How charming. How chic.” Leland holds black cloth up to his body.
“Those are for me?”
“Yup. The Hollow’s finest. All black. And denim, too. I’m jealous.” He smiles cheering me up. I know he’s going to have to leave for his own room and I dread the moment when he sinks back down through the floor.
“No socks or shoes?” I notice.
“Can’t chance you running away,” he laughs.
“Underwear?” My voice is way more hopeful than I expect.
He shakes his head, then stops. “Oh, but wait!” he suddenly runs over to the small dresser by the chair. “Here we go!” He picks up and unwraps plastic, unfolding something and holding it up for me to see.
“What is that?” I can’t tell. It looks like paper or tissue.
“The Hollow has gone all out. Mesh underwear made of the most premium gauze in all the land. One size fits all - badly,” he picks up and examines the plastic wrapping. “A large?”
He looks again at the underpants and tosses them to me. I catch them with one hand.
Inspecting them, they’re very light and thin. The white mesh pants are riddled with small holes that get larger as I stretch them. There is elastic around the legs and waist. They look like boy-shorts.
“They’ll have to do, right?” I say and lean over. I look up at Leland.
“I’ll turn around,” he says and does. I pull them on under my gown.
“How do they fit?” Leland turns back. He’s amused and laughs. I laugh, too.
“Actually, they fit perfect. And they’re pretty comfortable.” I spin around and my gown billows. We both laugh. It feels good.
“Here, put the rest of it on.” He tosses the other two items, the shirt and the pants, at me and turns. Pulling the gown over my head, I toss it to the floor. I put on the shirt first, then the pants. I dress quickly, looking up to make sure he hasn’t turned back around. I’ve never gotten changed in front of anyone, not even my sisters, before.
“Not bad,” I say. I feel much better with a renewed sense of purpose. I run over to the sink and wash my hands and face. I can’t wait to scrub my feet with the washcloth that has been added to my room. Now I have two towels.
“Once a week someone will come in to launder your clothes. They just came today so they’ll be here another seven days from now. You’ll put your clothes back by the door.
“How will I know when that will be? How will I keep track?”
“You’ll figure out a way, we all do.”
I think about my accounting in Aegis. Marks on a wall. I don’t know that will work in here.
“And you’ll want to put the gown back on when they come for your clothes. Otherwise, you’re stuck here naked.”
“Completely naked?”
“Uh-huh. And depending on how agitated it makes you, you could be more or less sedated, so don’t get anxious when the nurse comes in.”
“Sedated?”
“Tranquilizers or antidepressants. It’s your choice, really. Anxious, sweaty, complain of pain and you get the SYRUP. Or your run-of-the-mill antidepressants. Panicky, excitable, irritable and you get the Hypno’s or tranquilizers. They keep you calm.”
“Wow. You know your drugs.”
“I’ve been here a while. You don’t want them.”
“I don’t need them.”
“Since you’re so new, they won’t want to give you much. It could affect your testability, so it’s best for you not to get upset or ornery. Once they start the tests –”
“When will that be?”
“Probably within the next few days. I would’ve thought at least a week, but someone left you the clothes. They know you’re regaining your strength.”
My palms sweat and I rub my neck. It’s sweating, too. “I-I-I can’t stay here.”
“I know, Roz, you’ve mentioned that. We all want out. We’re working on it.”
“No! You don’t understand! I want to go home! I want to be in Aegis! Where’s Pike? Will he find me? Is he looking for me?” My eyes flash. The walls are bleeding. The hallucinations again. Blood drips from the ceiling.
“Roz, relax,” Leland turns from the door to me, taking my shoulders. “Calm down.”
I shake my head. I need to get this out of my head. I need to get this place out of my head. I press my hands to my eyes and then grip my neck. I’m choking.
“Listen, Roz, you can’t act like this. This is what will get you drugged. Shake out of it!” He slaps my face. The blood-red walls turn brown and then back to yellow. Water, not blood, drips from a small spot on the ceiling. My face stings.
“If and when they offer you a cocktail, do not accept it. Do not accept any food either. Do you understand me, Roz? Do not accept it. The tests aren’t great, but they aren’t that bad either. If you take the cocktail –”
“The cocktail? What’s that?” I’m trying to breathe. Leland has stepped back, but he still clutches my shoulders. He’s right. I’m calming down.
“A mix of morphine and alcohol to suppress your central nervous system and a neonicotinoid – that’s used to kill pests. It’s insecticide. Anyway, it’s all way worse than the numbing stuff you were given when you first got here. If you take it you run the risk, a great risk, of ending up like everyone down there.” He’s very matter-of-fact and I’m much calmer now. He holds my hands now, instead of my shoulders.
“I get it. No cocktails.”
“No cocktails,” he repeats. “And no food. They put it in the food, too. Stick with the appetite suppressants. You’ve go
t a bunch in the top drawer.”
“That’s alright. I’m never hungry,” I say.
“I have to leave you, Roz. We’ll see what’s in store for me this evening.” He starts back for the uplifted tile.
“You’re going back down there? Underground?”
“These vents lead to every room on every floor, Roz. Mine’s just a few rooms down.”
I remember the hospital where I met Pike. “But what if I need you?” I ask, starting to feel the re-emergence of that panicked feeling, closing in my throat.
“You won’t need me. You’ll be fine,” Leland calls from the floor.
“But –”
“No but’s!”
Leland puts up a hand to wave and slips into the vent. Without him, the room casts on a much more solemn shadow. The light in the room dissipates after a few seconds of Leland not being here and I wish my hand lit up like his. I look at it and press my palm. Hard.
A spark under my skin and then it glows blue. Gets brighter. Amazing.
Even with this dim light, the room has lost its warmth. I have to keep myself from thinking about the cocktail Leland mentioned. I have to be able to say no when the time comes. I have to decline the cocktail when it is offered to me. Otherwise they win. The Hollow will have me and they’ll win. I won’t let them win.
Problem is, it doesn’t sound all that bad. And it scares me to think that at some point I might actually welcome it.
7
A nurse stands beside my bed. I’m back in my gown. I’ve been put in my gown.
“What’s going on?” I can’t move again. My limbs are numb.
She isn’t the original nurse, but she’s similar. Everything’s white.
“Are you ready?” She asks, inclining my bed with the touch of a switch on the wall.
“Ready for what?”
Without answering, she tips me forward, her arms scoop me up from behind. She helps me into a narrow wheelchair, but without the wheels. A pocket of air holds it up and as I am let go, it drops a bit and then rebounds. It hovers a few feet off the ground. I hear a faint humming sound, but it may be inside my head. I can’t tell. I’m a bit fuzzy.
I want to rub my forehead, but my arms won’t budge. I’m able to shake my head, but it only seems to make things more of a blur.
