by Abe Moss
This room, a four-walled square, was as bright as the corridor outside. He wondered how anyone would sleep under such lighting. Then he noticed to his left and right were two deep alcoves set into both walls. Long as beds. Because they were beds. The cubby to his left had its curtain already pulled shut. Occupied. That meant the cubby on the right was his.
In the corner of the room was a curtain which enclosed the toilet. Emmett feared the lack of privacy it would provide, but for now tried not to think too much about it.
He went to his alcove, his hole in the wall, and bent inside to inspect it. He pressed the mattress. Firm but soft. There was a small pillow, which was rather limp. Experimentally, he climbed into the alcove, crawled all the way to the back to feel the hard, smooth wall there. The cubby’s ceiling was high enough to sit up if he chose.
Curiously, following his roommate’s lead, he drew the curtain shut and was surprised to see that it let in no light at all. To get a better sense of it, he curled up on his side, put his head on the flat pillow.
Whether the bed was comfortable or not, he managed to sleep.
✽ ✽ ✽
He awoke to the sound of music. An electronic jingle. It chimed from the ceiling of his cubby, loud enough to wake him but not to startle him. It was a moment after it ended before he remembered where he was.
There was movement outside his bed—the sound of his roommate getting up. Just as Emmett pulled his curtain back to look, he caught a glimpse of his roommate—a boy about his age—disappearing through the open door.
He slipped out of bed and hurried to the door. The bright white corridor was full of them. Other boys. Dressed in the same uniforms. Some were older, some younger. No matter the age, they all shared something in common, he noticed. It was hard to place, exactly—just a general look about them. They swept through the corridor robotically. Obediently. Indifferently. The way their arms hung at their sides, or the way they barely picked up their feet. They simply were. This was routine. Second nature.
Mindless?
He wasn’t sure that was it. Bored, maybe. The day was just begun, and they were lumbering into it with little motivation.
Emmett stepped back as a guard suddenly appeared. A man he’d never seen until now. Icy eyes under a pair of thick, angular brows. He gazed into the room with hard scrutiny.
“Out here with the others,” the guard demanded. He stood in the doorway proudly, straight and towering with superiority, as though Emmett had any choice but to be immensely smaller than him. “Are you confused?”
Emmett nodded, unaware of the guard’s mocking tone.
“Unless you want to starve, you should follow the others.”
The guard continued on.
As the crowd of children began to thin, only the stragglers left, Emmett decided he felt brave enough to join them.
Through multiple corridors he followed, a route he thought he’d never remember, until they finally arrived at the cafeteria. Rows upon rows of tables stretched from one end to the other. Children were already seated with their food—eggs and sausage and buttered biscuits. There were two lines leading to two window counters where food was served. Stomach growling, unable to peel his eyes off those around him already eating, Emmett quickly got in one of these lines and the waiting began.
As he waited, he searched the faces of those around him, hoping to see a familiar one. There were so many of them, he thought. And as the line slowly brought him closer to the window, he realized with increasing dismay that he recognized none of them.
Soon it was his turn.
Head lowered, barely able to look the woman over the counter in the eyes, he approached with his hands clasped tightly against his belly. So close to a meal, his stomach rumbled painfully. But instead of passing him his breakfast, the woman set down a tiny cup. The liquid inside was blue.
“Drink it all, or no breakfast,” the woman told him. “Either way, hurry it up. Others are waiting.”
His stomach grumbled, rattling his ribs like dried branches. Without thinking, he grabbed the cup and swallowed it down. On his tongue, it tasted like almost nothing. Milky and thick. In his throat, however, it left a tart, medicinal tang. Before he could think too much about it, the woman passed him his tray and he turned away as quickly as his bare little feet would carry him. He nearly bumped into another boy, much older and taller than himself.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
He weaved his way through the cafeteria, his face alight with embarrassment, until he spotted the first empty seat he could reach. He hurried to it, placed his tray down with a smack, and sat down in a weary heap. No one paid him any attention and yet he felt as though all their eyes were on him, disturbed by how clueless and lost he must seem.
Don’t ever doubt yourself, Emmett. Don’t let anyone instill doubt in you…
He’d forgotten a fork—if there had even been forks for the taking. So instead he ate with his hands.
The cafeteria around him was full of noise. Voices. Feet pitter-patting up and down between the tables. The scraping and clacking of every tray. It was almost too much…
When he was finished, he returned his tray to the counter and then did his best to move through the crowds of children in his search for the way back to his room. It was more difficult than he’d have liked. There were three corridors funneling into the cafeteria and he couldn’t recall which one he’d come from…
Overwhelmed, he gave in to his helplessness and approached a guard standing near one of the entrances. It was the same guard as before, he noticed, with the cool eyes and the sharp brow.
Quietly, politely, Emmett asked, “Excuse me… where do I go?”
The guard pursed his lips. “What do you mean, ‘where do you go’?”
“I want to go back to my room.”
“You mean you don’t want to go outside in the yard? Or read a book in the library? Or socialize with the others in the cafeteria?”
Emmett paused. His desire to be alone and safe in the darkness of his cubby was far greater than anything else. His anxiety left him tired, anyway. Exhausted.
“Did you eat anything?” the guard asked.
Emmett nodded, though he’d eaten so quickly it hadn’t really felt like he’d eaten at all.
The guard sighed impatiently. “All right, then. Follow me.”
Emmett stayed close as he followed the guard around the perimeter of the cafeteria. The door they eventually left through was on the other side. The guard pointed above the door, indicating the large letter ‘C’ above it.
“Notice that all the rooms beyond this door start with the letter ‘C’,” the guard explained dryly, rubbing dirt in the wound. “Think you can remember that?”
He did his best to memorize the route, as there were so many twists and turns and similar corridors in between. Soon they arrived at his room: C26. He would remember that, too, he thought.
“This door is to remain open. They will self-seal at the end of the day when everyone has been ordered back to their rooms.” The guard stared long and hard at Emmett, perhaps waiting for a sign he understood. “You’re free to come and go as you please during the day, though I’d recommend spending as much time away as possible. Your mental health will be continuously evaluated, and isolation is never a good sign to those paying attention. Do you understand?”
Emmett thought he did, but only stared into his room, wishing desperately to escape into it.
“You’re tired from the medication they give you before each of your meals. It calms the nerves. You’ll adjust eventually.” The guard checked both directions of the corridor as they stood, appearing restless. “You’ll be discouraged from returning to your room in the future, however, so don’t make a habit of it.”
“Thank you,” Emmett said.
The guard pursed his lips in that same way. “The next alarm will be for lunch. When you hear it, you’ll return to the cafeteria. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
; Without another word, the guard departed, leaving Emmett standing alone outside his room. Inside, he saw his roommate’s bed was empty, the curtain left open.
He climbed into bed, curled up like before, pulled his curtain shut.
He’d have to get used to it all, he thought.
✽ ✽ ✽
Just as the guard promised, he was roused a few hours later by another musical chime. He remained in bed for a few minutes longer. He wasn’t necessarily hungry, and the idea of returning to that crowded cafeteria wasn’t especially appealing…
There was a knock on the door. He froze.
“Time for lunch.”
Fearfully, he pulled the curtain back just enough to peek…
“Yes. You. Get up.”
The same guard waited in the doorway, watching jadedly.
Like a stiff old man, Emmett climbed groggily out of bed.
“What if I’m not hungry?” he asked.
“You’ve spent enough time in bed. Time to join the others.”
“I’m tired…”
“It’s for your own good.”
Reluctantly, he joined the guard in the corridor.
“You remember how to get back to the cafeteria?”
Emmett said that he did, and the guard remained by his door, urging him onward. “Go on, then.”
✽ ✽ ✽
When he finished lunch—a turkey sandwich with a cup of fruit—he searched for the door with the letter C above it. The very same guard was there, arms folded as he scanned the room with those thick, arched brows raised high on his forehead. From across the cafeteria, the guard noticed him watching. Those full brows rested amusedly. He beckoned him over. Reluctantly, Emmett obeyed.
“You look lost,” the guard said. “You weren’t planning on going back to your room again, were you?”
“No,” Emmett lied, scratching the back of his neck.
“The library is quiet. Or perhaps a visit to the yard. Some sun might wake you up a little.”
Emmett agreed without hesitation, anything to end their exchange soonest. “Where do I go outside?”
He was told to head through Ward B and follow the signs for ‘OUTDOOR RECREATION’. As it turned out, he needed only to follow the steady stream of children coming and going. He found the exit with ease. Cautiously, he stepped outside.
He shielded his eyes against the bright sun, though there wasn’t much to see. Immediately outside the doors where he stood was a paved area—blacktop—where he supposed someone could kick a ball or skip rope or play hopscotch. Except there were no balls to kick, or ropes to skip, or chalk to draw with. Not that he saw, anyway.
Beyond the blacktop was a large expanse of grass, which was divided by a chain-link fence with more grass still on the other side of that. And more children, too, it appeared. Keeping his eyes low from the bright, hot sunshine beating down on him, he crossed the lawn toward the fence. By the looks of it, there were as many children on the other side of the fence as on his side. Except…
It was the girl’s yard. Their half. Approaching the fence, he put his fingers through the chain-link, observing them. He searched for Jackie, skimming the strange faces, holding out hope despite the chances. Naturally she wasn’t there.
Much like the boys, he noticed, the girls either walked aimlessly or sat in the sun with little motivation. Slow and bored. Even those sitting in groups appeared to do very little talking. It was then that it dawned on him, the look they all shared. Not mindless, or bored, but…
Defeated.
“Hey, you!”
Emmett spun around. Another guard, this one donning a hat and sunglasses over a stern sneer, stopped with his hand on his hip, wagging a finger at him.
“No touching the fence.”
Emmett apologized. Shaking his head, the guard returned to a small booth near the edge of the yard, white and glared by the sunlight on its metallic roof.
Finding the yard less than stimulating, Emmett decided it was time to return inside.
✽ ✽ ✽
He spent the remainder of the day in the library, located in Ward A, where a surprising number of children spent their time, none of them reading books. Rather, it was simply a safe place to nap. And best of all, the guards who poked their heads in periodically didn’t seem to mind.
Emmett sat up in his chair at the sound of yet another musical chime. He watched as the others tiredly got to their feet and trudged toward their next meal. After a minute or two, he followed.
Dinner—roast beef with steamed vegetables—was served with the usual serving of blue mystery medicine. Again, he ate alone. When he was finished, he returned to the entrance of Ward C, where the now-familiar guard waited.
“After dinner, anyone may return to their rooms for the night if they wish,” the guard told him. At that, Emmett was elated. “Just know, you’ll be called upon in an hour or so. For showers.”
Emmett paused. Without uttering a word, by a mere meeting of eyes, he questioned the guard on what he meant, exactly.
“Ward A showers in the morning. Ward B in the afternoon.” He leaned into the cafeteria, cocked his head back to see the letter above the door which Emmett could no longer see from in the corridor itself. “And as you’re in Ward C, your showers will be in the evening. Before bed.”
Emmett pondered it for a moment. Would it be like his first shower, he wondered? Or would this be different? Open, public showers? Without further questions, Emmett returned to his room and climbed into bed. He pulled the curtain shut, his thoughts bullied back and forth by his new anxieties.
Worry wart, worry wart.
✽ ✽ ✽
Sure enough, the chime above his bed went off, a slightly different tune than before. Soft, tolling bells. When he pulled his curtain back, he was surprised to see his roommate doing the same. They both hesitated, alarmed.
“Showers?” Emmett asked.
His roommate nodded and, wasting no time on small talk, scurried into the hall where Emmett glimpsed the steady march of the other Ward C boys going by. With butterflies in his belly, he joined them, stepped into their current and followed like a trout upstream. Up ahead, his roommate walked alone, head down, minding his own business. Reminding him of himself, Emmett wondered if he was relatively new as well.
The line of children grew as he followed the herd from corridor to corridor, more of them floating out from their rooms as they passed.
Eventually they reached their destination. A guard stood in the corridor, pointing children through four separate doorways. Hanging from the ceiling was a sign reading ‘SHOWERS’. Each boy before him was directed into one of these doors. His heart raced as his turn loomed. The guard, barely giving him a glance, pointed and said “First door.”
Without question, he hurried in. He was immediately met by the damp heat, a cloying, soapy aroma, the air full of steam. Down a short, tiled hallway, he listened to the sounds of pattering water from many faucets. The showers were as he feared—public. With a heavy, reluctant heart, he turned the corner and stepped into a large room of open shower stalls. There were no curtains. His eyes flitted in multiple directions, unable to avoid the naked bodies he saw.
“No dawdling.”
Emmett turned to see a guard standing in the room with them, back against the wall. Of course, it was the same guard with whom he was quickly becoming accustomed. The guard nodded toward an open, metal laundry chute, a sign above it indicating ‘LAUNDRY’. Emmett made his way toward the chute and did as he saw the others do. Quickly unzipping himself, he stepped out of his uniform and stuffed it through the metal door. Then, holding his privates, he hurriedly glanced through the showers for an available one. There were two empties, side by side. He chose the nearest of the two.
His chest fluttered. On the wall was a large silver button. Below it sat a small, black screen of glass. He pushed the button and cringed as a warm jet of water caught him directly in the face. He stepped back, opened his eyes. The black screen, in red light
, now read ‘27’. It changed to 26, to 25, to 24. Smelling soap, he didn’t see any available to him. He looked down at his feet, at the water swirling around his toes, clouded and bubbling. He let the water fall on the back of his hand and held it to his nose. Sharp, flowery, soapy…
The timer read 21.
He scrubbed himself frantically with his hands. Turning in circles, he stole guilty glances at the others in their stalls. They also bathed in a rush, though their calm faces indicated they’d done it many, many times.
Suddenly the water changed, dropped in temperature by a few degrees. He turned around and saw the timer read 13. He looked to his feet again, at the pooling water slipping around the drain, and saw the clouded puddle splashed apart by new, clear, clean droplets.
Rinse cycle.
He twirled under the stream, let it fall over his head and down his body as thoroughly as he could before the timer ran out…
3…2…1…
The water shut off. Holding himself, he leaned out of his stall and spotted another doorway where others were leaving. He followed.
Through the door, another hallway spilled them out into a different room, this one somehow even hotter than the last, though he felt not an ounce of moisture in the air. Vents in the ceiling released dry, hot air down on them. The other children were lining up, so he jumped in line with them. Unable to help himself, he glanced at the others, boys of all ages. The older boys, taller and meatier than himself, were the least affected by their nakedness, he noticed. One boy in particular he couldn’t peel his eyes from. It was a morbid fascination, if anything. The boy was so ridiculously hairy, in places Emmett had not a single hair. The sight was so startling, so disturbing, he jumped as the boy turned and caught him staring, as though sensing his gaze. Under the hot, noisy, oven-like ceiling-blowers, Emmett burned with shame.
Soon he was at the front of the line. He stepped toward the window there, where the person behind the counter—sexually androgynous behind their hat and mask— stared expectantly at him.
“Number?” they asked. A woman.
Emmett shook his head.
“Name?”
“Um… Emmett Callahan!”
