Deliverance

Sleep, the punishment for all who break the law. The death penalty was lost to the old days many years ago. The IPU, despite knowing that monsters exist, chose to show grace to convicts.

They don’t die. They sleep.

I never gave it a second thought. Not until now.

A droid leads me into an elevator and chooses the lowest floor. Just a short time ago, I would’ve been in class around this time, listening to the professor go on about ethics. Maybe meet up with Shiloh and Jasper afterwards, too. Now, I’m about to be put to rest, and my friends may very well be dead.

What a turn of events.

“How long will I be asleep for?” I ask the droid in a low murmur.

No response. Of course.

During my sleep, my brain will be rewired, mostly the frontal lobes and hippocampus. Everything about me will be reset to a blank “default,” and when I awaken, I won’t remember anything or anyone. I’ll essentially live the rest of my life as a zombie, whose only purposes are to be harmless and obedient.

I thought I was already doing that just fine.

The elevator stops. My hands turn cold. The droid brings me into a waiting room, where others are gathered to meet the same fate as me. It’s a lot more crowded than I anticipated, there’s more people than chairs. Because of Ezri, no doubt. I’m left to sit on the floor, while names are called one by one to pass through the dreaded doors of the chamber, where they’ll stick you with the syringe.

There’s a strong scent of chemicals, almost unbearable. It gets stronger each time the doors open.

A boy sits next to me, looking around my age. He’s drawing on a notepad, a very detailed depiction of the Corvid’s raven. That stupid bird has been nothing but a bad omen for me, but still, the boy’s talented. It looks like the raven can fly right off the paper.

He peeks up at me, and a small smile crosses his face. Holding up the notepad, he says, “Always wanted to be an artist. The bird’s creepy for sure, but worthy inspiration.”

“Oh. You’re very good.”

He shrugs. “I try, but thanks.” Then while drawing along the raven’s wings, he asks, “What about you? Any dreams of your own?”

“ … To be president.”

A small, quiet laugh comes out of him. “That’s a mighty big goal to have, you must be very ambitious.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not one I can have anymore.”

The smile leaves. “Guess that’s true,” he stares back down at his art, his grip on the pencil loosening. “But be grateful for having a dream at all. That’s what I say to myself, anyway.”

A few moments of silence between us passes. I still watch him draw, mesmerized. Then he asks, “Which rule did you break?”

I don’t answer him. Nobody else needs to know the specifics of my guilt. It’s already too much.

“Ah, that’s fine,” he says, getting the hint. “Well, you know how ‘corruptive’ artwork is illegal?”

I nod.

“I thought that— it limited artists. Why do we have to express everything with sunshine and rainbows? So,” he adds his initials as a signature, “since I was part of my school’s press, I submitted an article questioning the law. I thought it was okay, but looking back, it was pretty dumb to do that without permission. I was actually supposed to be asleep by now, but it got delayed.”

Yeah, that was definitely a mistake. Such a bold statement wouldn’t even get the IPU’s approval. I reported someone at the institute for the same offense. What was his name again?

“Next inmate…”

Oh, right. It was—

“Dan Stark.”

My eyes widen when the boy – Dan – stands up. Realization hits me like a brick.

“Oh, that’s me,” Dan says, sounding depressed. “Well, it was nice talking to you. Maybe I’ll see you again after we wake up.”

Hands in his pockets, notepad tucked under his arm, Dan walks to the doors with his head hung low. That chemical odor fills the room again. My heart aches the closer he gets to the chamber.

I don’t understand – I didn’t talk to him for long, but he seems so… Normal. So nice.

Suddenly, it’s as if instinct. Jumping back onto my feet, I yell out,

“I’m sorry!”

Everyone turns to me, alarmed by my outburst. Dan looks at me with confusion, and the smile comes back. “Don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but sure, I forgive you.”

And then, he’s gone. While I stand here, he’s going to miss out on years of his life, only to have no recollection of himself afterwards. All because of me. I slump back down onto the floor, staring at the ceiling.

He broke the law, wasn’t reporting him supposed to be the right thing? If yes, then I shouldn’t be feeling this way.

I didn’t know the conditions of the facilities. How unfair, how dehumanizing it is to be here. Those soldiers at the campfire, did they actually have a point?

Not only that, how was I never aware of how dangerously fragile our society is? Ezri easily made us powerless, and— the IPU allowed it.

As the time goes by, my mind is at constant war with itself. I have uncertainties about the IPU, only to make a defense for them, over and over again. At this moment, I don’t know anything, what’s right or wrong. I’m so conflicted.

“Next inmate, Calla Hartwell.”

Oh my gosh.

My legs quiver. Each step I take is like I’m pulling a weight. Voices fade into nothing, the light turns dim. A stretcher is in the chamber’s center, and a worker is beside it, holding a syringe. I expected to see sleeping bodies, or doors to other rooms – but it’s only the stretcher, and a sealed tub by the wall. It’s where that smell is coming from, too.

The worker silently gestures for me to lie down. There’s no way out of this, is there? As I lay on the stretcher, it feels like I’ve just willingly placed myself into my own casket. I suppose this is similar to death. After all, when I wake up, the person I am now will be away forever.

A ting emerges from the tub. Another worker opens it at the end, smoke spilling out. On the board she pulls out is a gray jumpsuit, along with a notepad. There’s no body, just those items.

But there’s no time, and no use, to ponder about it. A gloved hand lifts up my arm, the tip of the needle nearing my skin. Well, this is it.

When will I wake up? I still don’t know.

I close my eyes, prepared to succumb to whatever waits for me years from now.

But outside, there’s screaming. People are running, chairs are knocked over. My eyes open, and the specialist has halted the injection. The two workers look at each other, not knowing what to make of the racket. The other heads to the doorway.

Only for a laser to be shot through her head. When her body falls, Ezri is behind.

Wait, what?

“There you are, blondie. Been looking all over for you.”

She shoots the specialist, killing him instantly. Just like that, I’ve been freed from their clutches.

“H-How did you know where—”

“Does it matter? Point is, I saved you, and we gotta get moving. Now.”

I can’t believe it, but I’m actually choosing to leave with Ezri. Even now, still can’t stand her, but no way am I missing the opportunity to escape the Corvid. I spring out the stretcher and run out alongside her. The only dead people in the waiting room belong to workers, none of the inmates.

“Remember the golems at the Boundary, blondie?” Ezri asks as we go into the elevator.

“Obviously. How could I forget?” I say while trying to catch my breath.

“Well, the golems here didn’t like us breaking in very much. So, when we get up there, your job is to not die and stay with me. Think you can handle that?”

“Don’t really have much of a choice…”

She chuckles. “Good, then for once, we’re on the same page.”

The elevator opens. Ezri yanks me behind her, out of the direction of an immediate shot from a golem. She returns the attack, hitting its head and core until it breaks down. Tugging me by the wrist, she drags me through the main floor of the facility, dodging beams and shooting back at our aggressors. The golems have transformed back into terrors, but thankfully, there’s nowhere near as many as there was in the Boundary.

And significantly less soldiers as well.

“Hey, Calla! Catch!”

Petra shouts. She throws me a bag, on the inside are the clothes I bought at the store while trying to avoid Ezri over a week ago. How did they know I bought these? And most importantly – “Did you go into my house!?” I yell back.

“Only because I needed to!”

Unbelievable…

“You’ll need to wear that when we get to the streets,” Ezri says. “Wouldn’t want to get caught on the cameras, right?”

Even though Lux knows me and is Secretary of the Department of Order, he’s not going to bend the rules for me. Not out of kindness. We aren’t even close, anyway. If found, they’ll ship me to another facility, and I’d sleep. Stepping outside, there’s cracks in the barrier from a massive hole at the entrance, along with signs of an explosion. I put on the sweatshirt and pants over the jumpsuit, throwing the hood over my head.

“Ready to be a fugitive?”

“I’m not a fugitive!”

“Sure, whatever you tell yourself.”

The golems behind us, we speed down the hill, to the hole in the barrier. Who knows what Ezri is planning now, but one thing’s clear – whatever it is, I’m in safer hands than I was at the Corvid.