T265 started feeling conflicted about her mission from the Warden to spy on EmCee after a touching moment with the rest of Stonewall on the rooftop. After seeing their reaction to her poem she took the step to get more involved.
Fluorescent office lighting never felt so sublime. The shuffle of papers, loud typing on keyboards, and the occasional hum of the copy machine in the far corner were surprisingly soothing for T265 who toiled away at her desk.
The cubicle wasn’t much, just a sliver of a desk, computer, and upholstered partitions lining the edges. It was the most privacy she enjoyed in years so she was not one to complain about it. Almost a week into her new position, she still reveled in the freedom to go to the restroom on her own. The woman who used the desk before left behind a bottle of lotion in the cabinet, which T265 was eager to siphon off for herself. After four days, her skin felt damn near luxurious.
While office gossip never appealed to her before, she jumped at the opportunity to poke her head up like a prairie dog to catch a whiff of the latest developments. The enthrallment she had in the murmurs about who’s sleeping with who and hot takes on current events would make Amelia shudder…made her shudder.
News from the world outside was a godsend since her computer had no internet access, which was the first thing she tried, hoping to check on Cassie. That wasn’t the only disappointment on her first day.
T265 wasn’t the face of the project, just the workhorse that managed all the paperwork and planning. Denise, a woman in her 50s trying to force herself into the style of a 20-year-old, led meetings and pawned off T265’s work as her own. The frustration around that vanished when T265 had a panic attack because Jackie’s CO boyfriend burst into the office on the third day. The stark reality of the suffering that awaited her in the fields tempered expectations.
“Did you see the news alert?” Sean said across the room.
T265 crept up to see over her cubicle along with several others. Sean was a furry little mouse of a man. His large front teeth didn’t help the image either. He pushed his wire frame glasses from the bridge of his nose, again, as he clutched his phone with his other hand.
“I don’t have anything,” Stacy answered and leaned against her desk with her knee resting on her chair. Her rusty, shoulder-length bob reminded T265 of her best friend Christy from undergrad.
Carl, the systems administrator who was built more like a CO than someone behind a desk, towered over his cubicle. “What’s it say?”
“Oregon voted for the Convention,” Sean said with tremendous awe in his voice.
Most of the tiny room roared in celebration, except Stacy, who shrank into her chair with her hand pressed to her mouth. Her wide eyes searched the room as the gravity of the celebration seemed to weigh on her. When she only found T265’s gaze, she just shook her head with a tenderness that looked a lot like regret. The connection lingered for a moment before she retreated to her spreadsheets.
The shock came in waves that seized T265’s muscles until she forced her legs to bend. Knots twisted in her stomach as the sliver of hope, that liberal politicians would undo the hellish landscape, wisped away in the winds of change. Thirty-four states wanted to change the Constitution, the culmination of a concerted effort of extremists to cement the country to their ideology.
Tears forced their way down her cheeks as she realized that the liberty she believed in just died to thunderous applause. When she finally sat in the safety of her cubicle, the sobering reality of that settled in her consciousness.
She was never going to see Cassie again.
The thought folded in on itself and churned the fear and rage inside her. The desire to scream was insurmountable. Laughter and celebration in the office stabbed her ears and stoked her fury. Her body demanded retribution and her heart wanted them all to suffer, ten years for every minute she endured. The bloodlust filled her senses, but…reason slithered its fucking coils around her fury and strangled the fire.
Lashing out would not bring change, not there. It would only bring more pain, her pain. Was that who she wanted to be?
No. The embers floated within her and sparked something else, something new.
She snatched the notebook with its frayed edges from her pocket. Pen in hand, she flipped through pages of poems and story ideas until she found a virgin canvas. The stylus of the pen scribbled with such ferocity she expected the pages to bleed. Instead, her blood and tears poured onto the page that welcomed her heart’s screams for retribution. The fever dream subsided just as the final echoes of celebration dissipated in the air. As the others returned to their work, she sat in awe of her creation.Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published
The time has come. No longer live In a day, like any other In a world of consequences. Seek out the demons Bring them to light. Take a stand Ignore the lines In sand Drawn long ago. Stand the ground Painted red in minds Anticipating Liberation. Face down those That dwelled Over us Too long.
She scrawled the word ‘Anthem’ at the top of the page and closed the notebook.
“Something’s happening in the men’s camp.” Jackie’s voice rang out in the room with her annoyance on clear display. T265 imagined her standing in the doorway with her hand on her hip and her frizzy blonde hair vibration with frustration.
“What do you mean?” asked Sean, ever the busybody.
“Peter just cancelled lunch because they have to search for contraband.”
The notebook.
T265 trembled as she placed her hand on it. Her skin grew flush with each accelerated heartbeat.
“Did someone die or something?” another woman asked.
“No, it’s stupider. Some letter spread through the quadrants and got Nettles all riled up.”
Clarity took over and T265’s thoughts slowed. She’d always been good in a crisis as Amelia and thankfully that did not fail her. Jackie’s continued prattling receded from focus and T265 took a moment to collect herself. If they were searching the quadrants, she would not be forgotten.
There wasn’t much time and the shredding bin by the copier caught her attention. Everyone else was distracted, it was a simple enough solution. The notebook slid into her back pocket, but she hesitated.
The words in those pages held a tighter grip than anything before them, save Cassie. Reasoning that she could recapture them later met fierce resistance at the truth that her and the words were bound together, body and soul. Any attempt to recreate them would be imposters that lacked the power of her blood in that moment.
They could not be destroyed, but they could be hidden. The two empty cubicles near her were guaranteed to be searched, but the cabinet in the corner behind her might work. The first drawer eased open with a sundry of items like paperclips, a stapler, and tape rattling around.
T265 froze.
No one looked in her direction, and she got a better idea, snatched the tape and dropped to the floor. Nestled under the desk two cubicles over, she smoothed several strands of tape against the fiberglass underside.
Each piece disappeared onto the black surface, leaving the notebook hanging in stasis away from prying eyes. The carpet scraped her back as she slid from beneath. She adjusted her shirt back to her waist and crawled back to her desk.
The trudging of CO boots interrupted her reorientation. Her eyes didn’t dare blink as she focused on the open doorway. The vibrations shook her chair as they grew closer. She held her breath and counted the steps until a CO she didn’t recognize stormed into the room and straight to her cubicle.
“T265,” his voice boomed.
“Yes sir?”
The scowl on his face was unmistakable as his thin lips barely moved, “On your feet.”
Her heart raced as her trembling legs protested fulfilling the command to stand at attention. The force of his calloused, bony fingers on her sides made her yelp as she fought every instinct to run. The tremble became a quake as his hands pressed against the pockets of her pants.
The stench of stale beer assaulted her senses and ripped open her mind.
The echo of cold metal on her shoulder, dirt and pebbles digging into her knees, and the heat of the sun on her bare skin overwhelmed her self-control.
“Please don’t,” she whimpered.
He ignored her plea and groped her groin.
The taste of Daxton returned to her mouth, and her chest pounded as she lost the fight to restrain her fear. Her sobs filled the room and she sought any sign of comfort in the office, but everyone else took shelter in their false ignorance.
“Please,” she whispered, and needed just one person to just fucking see her.
The CO gave nowhere near the attention to her legs that he did to her groin. Once finished, he ordered her to the side, ignoring her panic.
She grew faint and felt like her heart didn’t beat any more than it vibrated.
The cabinet was the first place he searched, and the tiny bit of relief did nothing to ease her panic. He scanned the cubicles around them before kneeling at hers. He whipped his head to glare at her, which made her jump.
Without breaking eye contact, he slid his hand underneath her desk. His callouses scraped the underside as he slid his hand back and forth. After four sweeps he groaned with disappointment and returned to his position of dominance over her.
“Let’s go.”
T265 struggled to banish the flashes of memory from her mind through weakening sobs as she fell in at his side. His hand clasped on her arm and burned as he twisted his grip while tearing her forward through the office and into the hallway, towards the Warden’s office.
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