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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
Duplicate - Chapter 3It is not until noon that we are allowed in the Refectory, the crowded bleach-white room with metal tables and chairs where all CCs are required to eat. Everyone still seems to be on-edge from the violent scene with the Officer earlier.
Leslie infiltrates my mind when she says, hesitantly, "Lennon?"
I look down into her innocent pale eyes. She is an unusually happy girl that works in my Sector, on maintenance staff. She smiles a lot, which annoys me.
I scratch the back of my neck and ask, my throat dry, "Yes?"
She blinks a few times and looks away before asking, timidly, "What did you think of this morning?"
We are waiting in a surprisingly short line for our food. I do not respond. I would rather not be discussing death right before I eat.
Leslie does not bring up the subject again. It reminds me briefly of why I am friends with her in the first place: her understanding.
We wait a few minutes before the Refectory workers check our IDsconfirming that we are designated to eat at t
Duplicate - Chapter 2It happens in a place one would not regularly expect. I am standing in the middle of the Portnamed so because of its hectic way of getting you from here to therewaiting to get my transport papers for the day. As usual the entire room buzzes with people and energy as CCs scramble to get on elevators or in ship cars to get to their work stations.
The Port is a large, circular room with a seemingly endless amount of entryways and passages, leading almost everywhere in the Facility. At this time of day it is bustlingly with masses of people and machines going from here to there, but it also serves as a retrieval desk for the papers required to get to those places. Chaos as usual, to put it simply.
I am running late today so I am second to last in the transport retrieval line, behind an intimidating line of at least forty five. Please do not let me be late... I think as my feet stamp impatiently on the concrete floor. I nervously chew on my thumbnail as I watch the CCs in
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More