What's Inside

It's one of the few steel buildings in town. The only other ones are the factories, but those are covered with rust at the joints and stained with black grime. This one is pristine, like every bolt has been polished. It feels like something from a foreign land. But like the factories, smokestacks rise from the roof, covering the area in smog.

Barbed wire runs all the way around, without a single gap. I don't have to touch the fence to know it's electric as well. Tall guard towers in the four corners of the complex mean I can't get too close without a plan. Their lights circle the area, showering the ground under their authoritative gaze.

I look around my uniform, but can't find any sort of ID or keys. No matter, I think. They've surely found the real guard by now. An ID would just be one step closer to a death sentence.

Then it hits me: by now, if I hadn't escaped, Solen Marsis would have been tried for his crime already. I'd be inside the complex right now, but under much stricter security. But what if they'd found me innocent? I want to laugh at that possibility from how ridiculous it is.

Though if I hadn't escaped…

…those two might be…

My mind snaps like a rubber band and I forget what I was just thinking about. Right, I need to find a way to get inside.

Squinting up at the watch towers, I can see the shadow of a figure moving inside. The security might be tight, but I wonder if anyone has even bothered to try before. Fear of the delivery men has us trained like animals to obey. I'm sick of it.

So, how will I get in?

For an hour, I circle the complex, hiding myself in corners of nearby buildings. And in case anyone does see me, I'm just a delivery man on patrol, I say with my body posture. Eventually, I find a small section in the very back, covered in shadow right in the middle of the watch towers. If I go now, before the sun has risen, I might have a chance.

I move quickly, feeling my head pound. The sharp pains of the beatings I've taken the last few days have dulled to a constant ache. My fingers clench in my gloves. The material is thick, and feels something like rubber. It would make sense if the delivery men had protection from their own batons at least on their hands.

With only a moment's hesitation, I grab onto the fence. Nothing. No burning pain like I felt from the baton. That's only the first trial. I start to climb, using all the muscles I've built up from scaling the mountains. Still, I'm weakened, and it's a challenge. My foot slips and I nearly slide down a full meter, but I manage to regain my balance and scale up.

The barbed wire is a tougher challenge. Not every part of the armor is as protected as the gloves. I need to tread carefully. But there's a sweeping light coming around, giving me a time limit. Going as quickly as I can, I first raise my upper body over the top of the fence, then swing my legs around. I swear silently as a barb rips my pant leg and tears through my skin. But I can't stop. Even as my leg bleeds I keep going until I can jump down on the other side.

From there I move in further, following a guard walking past who looks like he's headed towards a back door. I keep my distance, maneuvering around the lights, until he pulls out a key and opens the door. When his hand is on the handle I strike, dashing forward and ramming my baton into the same gap in his armor on his neck.

The baton has started to feel so comfortable in my hand. My grip has gotten tighter, more confident. I know just the right angle to press it in to make my enemy writhe.

He falls forward and I grab the door handle before it can close. For good measure, I take the key off of him. The body is left crumpled on the ground. Even if they find it soon, once I'm inside I will be just another delivery man. I only hope they don't think much of my bleeding leg.

A single answer is all I need. What happens after that is beyond my realm of thought.

Inside, there's a long dark corridor. Florescent lights cast a cold glow which doesn't reach the corners of the hall. The walls are concrete and barren except for the interspersed door and metal plate. I walk to the closest one and open it.

The most pleasant aroma I've ever smelled greets me before my eyes adjust to the sudden light. I find myself taking deep breaths of it. Then I feel the humidity, one I've never known. Even underneath the mask, I feel the warm air coating my lungs with a pleasant fullness. If the normal air outside is like the cold sting of my father's palm, this air is like the warm hugs of my mother.

My eyes adjust. Plants big and small are arranged in rows. Some I recognize, others I've never seen before. I've visited the public greenhouses a few times before, but it's been so long. I forgot how calming it is to be surrounded by plants on all sides, how fresh the air feels.

I walk around, seeing flowers in all sorts of colors. None are purely decorative, just dotting edible plants like smears of paint. Some are beyond flowers and have formed fruits. My stomach gives a painful contraction, and I'm unable to resist the temptation, feeling my hand move before I can think. I swipe something I recognize as an apple and lift my mask just enough to gobble it down.

The sweet juice runs down my chin, thin and sticky. It's not enough, so I immediately grab two others and eat them too. The sugar of the tart fruits clears some of the fog in my head. My goal is even clearer now. I know what I have to do.

Just as I turn another corner, there I see it.

What. The hell.

Hahaha… hahahahahahahahahAHAHAHAHAHA!

There's an entire row, no several rows of Mera's Spine being grown. More than I've ever seen in my life, all absolutely everywhere. It's packed to the brim. There's so much here I could be set for taxes for years.

My blood boils. Is this why? Why they banned it? So they could just grow it themselves? If I had been brought here for my trial, would I have been in the same building as it as I got sentenced to whatever they would have done to me?

I scrape my gloves against my mask, feeling the friction pass through my fingertips. Did she know? About this? About all of this? That person who—

—am I talking about?

What was it, what was it I was thinking about?

I can't remember.

As I'm so caught up in my frenzy, I don't realize there's a person who appeared before me until I hear a shing of their scissors.

My muscles spasm and I turn to look, seeing a man tending to some bushes below. He's wearing a similar uniform but…

His mask is pure black. No mirror, no pattern, no symbols. Just a plain dark dome.

I've never seen a man dressed like this before. Childhood, adulthood, business, prison, nothing comes to mind.

He looks up. I think he sees me. For a moment I forget I'm dressed as one of the guards and panic. But the man just looks back down and continues tending to the plants.

I turn around, and there's another person. This one is a woman, or at least I think she is under the uniform. Her black mask is facing towards me. She says nothing.

What the hell…?

As I realize once again that I'm dressed as a delivery man, I grab at my baton. "Hey," I say in my sternest voice.

She doesn't respond.

Who… are these people?

I see something else from the corner of my vision. Just further down, there's five… no six of them, all wearing blacks masks and staring at me.

They're just workers, I tell myself. They're just low-ranking members of the delivery men's group who do the farming. There's no need for them to wear mirrored masks if they're not interacting with the public. Obviously someone needs to attend to internal matters. And maybe masks are just mandatory for everyone's uniforms.

Then why aren't they speaking?

I'm used to terror now, but this is something else. Unease.

Crunch.

That noise again. I forget to breathe and turn around. There's nothing there but the glass wall and my reflection. Dammit. I smack my helmet to get myself to focus. There's no time for me to wonder about this. I need to get out of here and find the truth.