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Duplicate - Chapter 6I have a lot of secrets. That is one of the ways I learn to survive here. If you keep to yourself, listen closely, and give off the demeanor of being trustworthy, secrets are bound to be divulged to you. That is just how it works.
Fact one: Bender Riggs is insane. Not much of a secret, though, I must admit. Everyone from the highest ranking Officer to the youngest Recruit knows of Bender's constant struggle with sanity. He is a former draft turned maintenance staffhe cleans the Facilityand has for the past ten and half years been on and off illegally prescribed medication.
But in times such as these, Bender proves useful. He is an excellent listener, and because he has access to the whole building, plus an unlimited amount of Officials and other workers who consider him a mad, but dependable confidant, he knows an immeasurable amount of information. Information that could prove useful.
Such as what Thom Stark wants with me.
I approach him as I would any other day, with a ki
Duplicate - Chapter 5The smell of rotting sewage overtakes my senses as I wash the filthy granite on my hands and knees. Our job assignment after lunch is in the lowest level of the Facility, the cellars, a large vault like area used for storing.
There is only one Officer keeping watch over approximately fifteen of usCCs that make up most of the maintenance staff for Sector 5.
Leslie hesitantly meets eyes with me as a low humming noise utters from the walls and one of the surveillance cameras beep, alerting to a new change in direction.
After roughly an hour of clean-up, the Manager of our Sector calls for a head count. Everyone stands in line while he counts us off and assigns about half of usmyself includedto the backroom to take care of minor repairs.
Leslie waves to me as I leavesmiling for no reasonbefore she continues scrubbing the floor with an unreasonable determination.
The backroom is just a few doors down and contains machinery that keeps our Sector running properly
Duplicate - Chapter 4Going to the upper levels of the Facility is regarded fundamentally as a death sentence. That is what I am thinking when I hit the elevator button for Level 22, a button so seldom used it sticks when I press it. The grave expressions on the other workers' faces turn sympathetic and they nod at me before departing for lower levels.
I am stuck to make the rest of the trip alone. The elevator shifts back and forth at awkward angles and I have to struggle to keep my balance. It makes a loud screeching noise when it comes to a stop on my floor.
I take a deep breathmy nostrils taking in the industrial smell of overworked metal and steelbefore I step off the platform. There an Officer walks toward me, his slightly darker uniform designating him as a Guard to the Commander.
"Papers," he demands, his hand outstretched. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing a black-inked tattoo of the symbol of Ward 29a purported icon of strength and resilienceon his inner arm.
I hold out
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