CHAPTER III
“Listen, kid.” Farouk sits on the bed next to me. “I know what you are thinking about doing. Don't.”
“What are you talking about?” I try to play naive, but I can tell that he knows.
“You were going to run away.” He smiles at me. This one has warmth behind it.
I sit back in the bed, embarrassed and ashamed. “I'm sorry. I can't help with anything that will destroy this world and the people in it. I know I was created not to care, to not even think about it. But I can't help it. I don't want to die. I don't want anyone else to die.”
My eyes burn from trying to hold in tears. I don't want to show Farouk any more weakness than I already have.
“I know. I don't want anyone to die either,” he says. I look up at him, surprised by his words. He puts his hand on my shoulder, and the gesture calms me enough to allow some tears to fall.
He continues, “If you want to change things, you need to stay here. You need to immerse yourself here and not stand out too much. You're already different, so you need to tread lightly and not draw attention to yourself. I will help you, and together we can change the fate of the world.”
I'm speechless. I thought all scientists were in favor of the Ragnarok, but it's clear Farouk is not. I wonder how many others there are who think like him. Why haven't they tried to stop it already? What exactly does he want me to do?
“You'll get the answers to your questions in time.” He cuts off my thoughts. They must have been evident on my face.
“So, what do I do now?” I'm eager to get started.
“Get some rest. Tomorrow you will be assigned a duty with other drones. You do the best you can to blend in. Get to know this place. I'll tell you the plan soon enough.” Farouk stands and heads to the door.
“Okay.” It frustrates me that I have to be a drone again, but I guess I don't have a choice.
“You can trust me.” He smiles as he walks out, closing the door behind him.
Silence pierces my ears. So many thoughts race through my head that I can't focus on a single one. I stare at the door for what seems like an eternity, part of me still eager to leave. If I tried, however, I know Farouk would be waiting for me on the other side.
Lying back on the bed, I see the books that adorn the ground around the table I flipped over. I grab the two closest to me and lie on my stomach. The first one has a picture of a hand with its thumb out and a smiling green face on its cover. The plastic pages inside have nothing but words on them. I look at the words on the first page, but I can't figure out what they are. Frustrated, I close the book and toss it toward the pile by the table. It lands with a thud.
The second book has some pictures on the inside. There are words as well, but the images are intriguing. Most of them are of immense structures like this one. Stadiums. Some have a rectangular shape. Others have very odd shapes, with dirt diamonds to one edge.
Some of the images have small figures on the fields that resemble people. They look like they might be playing Breekbal or something similar.
I flip through every page, studying each image. The people on the fields are always split into two colors. I can make out what seems to be balls in some of the pictures. All of these are giving me the urge to play Breekbal. I wonder if the drones here know how to play?
My eyes are heavy, and I know sleep is right around the corner. I welcome it with open arms.
Through the darkness of sleep, I hear a light pounding growing louder. My eyes shoot open as the continuous sound becomes unbearable. The door is the culprit. I rise and open it, revealing two drones.
“Are you 80?” one of the drones pries.
“Yes.” I stand my ground.
The other drone shoves a bundle of clothing at me. “Put these on.”
I toss them on the bed and see that they are identical to what they are wearing: Long-sleeve, blue shirts, and brown pants. I remove the clothes that I now realize I've had on since before I was in the dungeon. My body shivers when I put on the new shirt and pants. Clean garments have a way of sitting with gentle care on your body, tickling the hair on your skin.
“What are your names?” I try to break the tension. There is a definite wall between us, and if I am to blend in the way Farouk wants me to, I need to break it down.
The drones look at each other, surprised by the question.
“210,” the first replies.
“99,” adds the second. “Let's go.”
They walk down the corridor and I follow, closing the door to my room behind me. I try to take note of every turn we take, but by the time we get outside, I have lost track of the numerous lefts and rights. It doesn't help that the corridors' walls are all the same color, unlike back at the compound. It will take me a few times before I get accustomed to this maze.
The air outside feels thicker than at the compound. It’s as though it's traveling through my lungs at a much slower pace. The first few breaths burn. I don't remember feeling this when we landed yesterday. I must have been too preoccupied with my surroundings to notice.
When I turn back, I see that we are actually on the outside of the stadium. The exterior walls rise hundreds of feet.
