- ELENA -
I have removed myself from my bed some minutes ago, which enables him to shift his body from one side to the other - my bed squeals under the density of his body as he rolls from one side to the other. I like to remind myself that it is my bed, not ours, even if he occupies more space in it than me. He occupies more space in my life than me.
I pull my freshly brushed hair into a ponytail before tying it into an impeccable bun. I pull my palms over my stomach, strengthening my simple, stiff black dress. After the Uprising, all stark colors were forbidden, so now the world is mainly black and white. Simple, logical, familiar - as it should be. All the colors and options and choices in the world before were confusing and a source of various conflicts, while the world after the Uprising is empty of them. It is serene and peaceful, where every person has their own task and everyone knows their place.
I apply camel matte lipstick on my lips and decorate my eyelashes with several strokes of mascara for good measure because this world allows you to enjoy things as long as you know how to control your own greed. When I am done, I move away from the bathroom mirror, ashamed for looking at my own reflection for a few seconds longer than was necessary. Mirrors are useful for a number of things, but enjoying your own reflection encourages vanity and can be punishable by several points in the new law. I take my life tracking device from my safe, alongside my gun and clearance badge, and remove several life points from my scoreboard for vanity. I shove the device in my bag before he notices I have made another violation and scolds me for my bad behavior.
I walk over to the bed and sit next to him, moving dark hair strains away from his eyes. I place my other hand on his shoulder and, as I squeeze him by his shoulder bones, I shake him in order to wake him up.
"Hey," I say when he grumbles, displeased by my actions. "You have to wake up, we are going to be late for work." Tardiness was one of ten most common offenses in the world before and we have been warned to avoid it as much as possible.
He slowly opens those big blue eyes of his and sits up, searching for his clothes with a wandering look, my hand slowly slipping from his shoulder, down his burly arm. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" he inquires with an expressionless look in his eyes. He doesn't sound angry because anger is categorized as a negative emotion and the use of those can be forgiven only in desperate times.
He remembers we are advised to store our clothes back in the wardrobe as soon as we are done using them in order to emphasize neatness, so he moves away from the bed and starts walking towards the sliding door on the opposite side of the bedroom wall.
"You are already fully dressed," he states calmly while searching for his shelf in my wardrobe. In the world before the Uprising, his tone would have been accusatory. He would blame me for letting him oversleep when I was obviously up and ready for a stretched period of time. Now, the feeling of resentment over small things in life is forbidden, mainly because it leads to pettiness and if he showed any signs of it, he would have to take his life points down for displaying two kinds of negative emotions.
I didn't know Damon before the Uprising. However, his discipline and tendency to follow the rules mean his personality traits probably weren't that much different in the world before since he carries his new found personality way too easy, like he never had to shed his old skin. I, on the other hand, am a different story. In some ways, I was forced to make myself smaller, while in other I had to stretch myself to fit into this world. In the beginning, I used to question everything around me because, in order to behave the way they wanted me to behave, I often had to lie, and there are no circumstances under which lying is allowed. It became clear to me very soon that questioning anything is futile, as well as undesirable.
"I woke you only when it was necessary since I didn't know if you had enough sleep, and depriving you of it wasn't my choice to make," I try to reason with him. We are allowed to make choices for others only if they are unable to make them for themselves.
He nods understandingly since it makes sense to him. I can't decide if it makes sense to me. He finds his uniform, and I watch him dress. His torso is full of well-defined muscles and his arms are strong, so strong he sometimes unintentionally inflicts me pain when I find myself in his embrace.
Passion is recommended, and lust is allowed in healthy doses. Those two emotions lead to procreation and if there is something we need, it is a rise in population. There were a lot of casualties during the Uprising and we still haven't recovered from such an enormous loss.
When he is done with putting clothes on, he walks over to me and gives me a gentle peck on the lips. Love is favored, but it isn't necessary. If love means sex now, if love means accepting someone's proposal to form a living community in order to start a family only because you are aware you probably won't find anyone more suitable than him, then I love him. If love means what it used to mean, I am not sure I even like him. I find it hard to love him when so many emotions which used to make love conceivable are forbidden now.
"Remember," he cups my face with the palms of his hands, caressing my jaw bones with his thumb, "You leave five minutes after me."
He is the Commander of Unit 5, and I am a spy in the same unit, which makes him my superior. The relationship between a superior and their orderly isn't forbidden or frowned upon and others do know we are in a relationship. However, he says our private life isn't something we should rub into other people's faces, especially since we're professionally interlinked as well.
The profession I chose for myself in the world before doesn't exist anymore. I didn't dream of becoming a spy, or the government's soldier when I was a child. This world doesn't believe in dreams or wishes, it is built on skills and capabilities we possess, even if they are hidden deep down inside of our core or occur only in traces. You have to conform yourself in order to accommodate the demands of this world. When the new system came to be, we were exposed to a series of tests - today, they call it SCG or 'Systematic Career Guidance' and it consists of a series of physical, mental and emotional exercises a person has to complete in order to find their place in the system. We used to have career guidance in the world before as well, yet we didn't have to do as we were told. They would give us directions, but we were still free to choose our future career by ourselves, even if it wasn't in line with their directions. Now, they don't only tell us what we could do, but what we have to do. The world before ended in chaos because people had too much free will so they created a world which is a complete opposite to everything the world before was, which means that, in this world, free will is very limited, if it exists at all.
I was turned into a spy because I am practical, I know how to think creatively and I am oriented to solving problems. I, apparently, also show very high levels of loyalty.
"Of course," I nod stoically. He smiles at me and steps aside in order to exit the room.
Before he leaves, I catch a glimpse of us in the bathroom mirror. We aren't people. We are two black smears pretending we feel alive.
I take my device out of its hiding place and clasp it around my pale wrist - the metal spikes poke into my skin, and I flinch. The device chimes and my life score increases because I was truthful and took my points down for vanity even when the device wasn't attached to me to track my feelings.
I look at the scoreboard. The only person who has more life points than me is Damon. He is the only person in this world who's less human than I am, and we are often awarded by controlling our humanity.
I, as many other people who work for the government, live in the Complex which makes my going to and back from work fairly easy. The compound we live on is enormous, of unimaginable size and, I am pretty sure, unmeasurable one. Complex reminds me, at least in size, of smaller cities in the world before, cities so safe people would feel free to leave their doors unlocked. Now, the only city we have is our main city, Urbs, where everyone who survived the Uprising work and live. There are small amounts of people who live on the outskirts, in small villages due to the demands of their work.
I leave my living space and step into the corridor at the same time Bonnie does - she lives in the suite next to mine and works as a tutor for the children who live in the Complex since Urbs is at least an hour away from the compound by car. Education now is at the same time very similar, yet very distant from how it used to be in the world before. Children still do learn a lot of theory such as history, even if now it is only about the Uprising and the world before, math, logic, and similar. However, they are more oriented towards developing, advancing and enhancing their skills so they are prepared for taking SCG once they reach the age of 16. The new system is fair and non-discriminatory towards everyone, so every child receives the same type of education, no matter what their parents do. Child of a doctor and child of farmer have equal chances to evolve and prosper in this new found world, even if children living in the villages have to ride a bus for hours to come to Urbs while children living in the city can reach educational centers in a matter of minutes.
"Good morning," I say.
She cocks her head to the side and smiles at me warmly. "Good morning, Elena. Are you headed in my direction?"
I bob my head as a sign of affirmation and her smile deepens, illuminating her entire face. We both realize the ridiculousness of her question since the corridor has only one direction, yet we allow ourselves this type of irony masked under the pretense of pleasantness since it is the only type of irony we are allowed to use nowadays.
She moved in the suite next to mine six months ago after being promoted from her old job. She used to work in one of the educational centers in Urbs, and now she is officially a government employee, a title of considerable relevance and esteem. I usually walk to work with her, but other than that I didn't have many chances to spend more quality time with her. She seems pleasant, yet afraid; when she talks, I sense enormous amounts of fear in her words.
She walks over to me, her curly ponytail swaying on the back of her head like a mallet inside an old, wooden clock which used to hang on my grandma's living room wall. Our corridor is long and extremely vivid, paved with shimmering white tiles and flashy reflectors in the ceiling at every step.
"What is on the agenda today?" I ask when I notice a stack of white papers in her hands. She is keeping them very close to her bosom, so I can't see what is written on them.
"Oh," she looks down at a pile of papers in her hands like she dismissed their existence until now. "We have a theoretical examination of skills today," she frowns, pulling her eyebrows closer to one another.
I guess the device recognizes dissatisfaction in the tone of her voice since it chimes, announcing the reduction of her life points. Neither of us says anything, nor do we show any kind of shame or discomfort or condemnation, since those reactions decrease our life points as well. They made it very clear to us that our scores, as well as scores of other people, aren't here to scare us or carry any kind of conviction, they are here to make us accustomed to proper and healthy behavior. In the beginning, it was very hard to ignore our own shame when our device would make itself heard in public when we were aware of other people's presence and realization we did or felt something wrong, or forbidden. It was also very hard to avoid raising our heads up in those situations or avoid wondering about their wrongdoings, especially when they were internalized and unknown to us. It was even worse when they made our scores public; people became competitive, because such is our nature, and we had to work very hard to stop thinking of our scores as something we are working towards instead of something we are living with. And we worked hard because, if we didn't, they would keep punishing us. And they could punish us because such actions are justifiable by the law, and the law was written by them.
They think they have created a perfect system, and they have a luxury of thinking that because they were never exposed to it, they are only controlling it. They wanted to make their people behave as they believed they should behave, but the only thing they have managed to do is make people hide their emotions. We became masters at manipulating in our feelings, allowing ourselves only small acts of defiance, acts which can't cause us harm.
"I see," I stretch a smile over my lips.
"And you?" she asks curiously. "Are you at your usual site today?"
By my 'usual site' she means a dark computer room I share with more than fifty other spies. A spy in the world before meant something completely else than it does now. Before, a synonym for a spy was James Bond; today, a spy is a person who sits behind a computer and monitors other people - their behavior, feelings, actions. Every person is assigned a number, which is how I know that sub number 2376 was feeling extremely sad yesterday because their dog has died, so it wasn't an offense. I have no way of knowing who sub number 2376 actually is, where they live, what's their name or sex. I don't have clearance for confidential information, and I would receive it only if I was assigned to the certain sub. Sometimes, when a sub starts showing irregularities, spies track them in order to monitor their behavior in person. If an irregularity can't be explained, but is clearly visible, tracking can last for days, weeks or months even which often demands from spies to create a new persona and somehow infiltrating the sub's life in order to decipher the irregularity.
"We have a meeting in 10 minutes, so we will see," I shrug carelessly.
There is an insanely heavy door at the end of the corridor as if they are keeping a pack of wild animals behind them and not a bunch of people with nowhere to run. Once we pass them, we find ourselves in a foyer which is a meeting point for everyone and everything located in this wing of the Complex.
"Well, this is where we say goodbye," she says like she does every morning.
I nod. "Goodbye! Have a pleasant day at work!" I yell after her since she has already turned her back to me and is walking, with a running step, towards the opposite side of the foyer.
"You too," she yells back, waving at me cheerfully.
I receive life points for kindness, and she probably does too. The foyer is pretty crowded and the only audible thing is the sound of everyone's devices buzzing.
When I walk into the room, Damon is already there with few of his colleagues. He doesn't even acknowledge my presence and I discover it doesn't bother me too much. Or at all, really.
I assume my place and soon after others arrive as well, and now the oval table is occupied by ten spies and their Commanders. We have ten Units in this wing and the leading spies from each Unit have a seat at the table. Damon and I hooked up after I was named the leading spy which I am thankful for because now no one can say I have the title because of who I am sleeping with. There are only a few behavioral patterns which remained from the world before, and this is one of them: if a woman makes it, people assume it is because a man allowed her to do so.
"It makes me extremely happy to see everyone has made it on time," one of the Commanders says, officially opening the meeting. When Commanders open their mouths to speak, all other noise in the room ceases.
We usually have these meetings once a month in order to solve problems of a more serious nature - we are very successful in eliminating the risks, which is only another reason for them to think their system works. It is easy to solve problems when you are able to invade into people, literally.
However, there is one problem we are unable to eliminate, a problem as old as the new system itself. They are keeping it wrapped deep under the sheets and only very few people are aware of its existence. Its name is sub number 0.
We don't know who he is, where he lives, why or how he is creating such grave problems for us. He doesn't have a record, which means he was never recorded after the Uprising, which makes him a flaw in their system. We have a picture of him because he was more than once captured by the cameras in the streets and facilities of Urbs, yet he was never arrested - he manages to disappear before they even notice him. I think the only reason they notice him is because he wants to be noticed. He is taunting them, which means that he is bold and courageous, which is probably what bothers them more than anything else. They can't control him, and that is why he bothers me as well.
No, I envy him. I envy him because he is the only person here who has managed to preserve his free will.
"Well, all of you probably know why we are here," he continues with a pained expression.
He takes a small black device from the table and places his thumb over the only button on the device. A screen appears on the wall, a screen with his picture.
He is someone I would find beautiful in the world before. He is someone I would find beautiful in this world if being beautiful still mattered. This world doesn't appreciate beauty, it finds it completely irrelevant for its cause, and advocates finding pleasure in simplicity.
My eyes scan his face one more time. He has a strong, supple jaw and the lines of his face are perfectly symmetrical. He probably has an amazing smile, one that breaks and mends hearts at the same time. His eyes are a forbidden shade of green, a color I try to remember every time they show us his picture.
"Sub number zero," Commander says those three words which such hate, hate which is allowed only towards the enemies of the system, only towards those who are trying to poison our new society with the harmful ways of the world before. "He was seen in Urbs six times this month, two times more than the month before."
We are pretty sure he doesn't live in the city because, if he did, we would have found him by now. He probably either lives in the outskirts or the forgotten remains of the world before. We don't know how he enters the city with no accreditations or clearance, which makes us think he isn't working alone. There has to be someone inside the system helping him. However, all suspects have been interviewed multiple times by various spies and Commanders, yet all of them have been cleared of any accusations, especially since they had a clear record with little to no irregularities.
He can't live in the city because we would have found him already, and he can't enter the city because the security is too good, yet here he is. He is our impossible boy.
"He did two small offenses this month. Harmful, but small," another Commander takes over. "We were able to cover them up before anyone actually had a chance to lay their eyes on them."
He never did anything bad, if you take into consideration offenses in the world before. One of his considerable offenses was giving a child an inflated red balloon on her way to the educational center. When she walked in the building with the balloon in her hands, colorful rubber floating in the air attached to a white string, one of the guards pulled an alarm, evacuated the entire building and called the authorities. She was found terrified, crying in the middle of the hallway, which did a serious damage to her life score, something she will have to work hard her entire life to make up for. Her entire family was questioned and detained, especially her parents, until they finally found the recording on camera which backed up her story of an unfamiliar man who handed her the balloon. Her family was released and their life scores suffered a minimal damage, however, she had never received her points back because, in the end, she did accept the balloon. She should have known better. The scandal reached and shocked every single citizen of Urbs - where did the balloon come from, who gave it to her, weren't all colors banned?
As if all colors disappeared simply because several old, white dudes decided we shouldn't use them anymore.
He probably reveled in all the attention he was getting since the city was buzzing with news for weeks to come.
A spy behind me raises his hand in the air, like an attentive pupil.
"Yes, spy Dalton?" the Commander allows him to speak.
"What do you mean by saying 'you covered them up'?" he inquires.
Commander looks pleased by his question. "Very well, spy Dalton. Allow me to show you," he takes the device from his colleague's hand and presses the button.
The picture changes from the picture of a boy's face to the picture of a wall with 'Are you ready' written with thick, black letters across the wall.
"I mean this," he looks at us attentively, studying our expressions. "And this," he says as he presses the button once more, and a very similar picture appears on the screen, this time of a road covered by words 'for another Uprising?' written in dark red.
"Can you comprehend the consequences if people saw this?" the Commander raises the tone of his voice.
Yes.
"Hysteria. Mass panic. Maybe even rebellion," he grunts, his thick gray mustache shaking above his upper lip.
Maybe one day, but not today, not now. People aren't ready for a change, they have become accustomed to this way of life, and he knows it - his actions show that he isn't foolish.
Firstly, he will make them doubt you. If one man can play the system like this, imagine the harm a couple of them could cause. He knows the system is fragile, and so do you; that is why you fear him.
The sound of Damon's voice pulls me out of my head.
"That is why we have decided to put a stop to him once and for all," he says, the look on his face hard. "To stop him, we are going to use our strongest weapon - your minds."
"Once you go back to your posts and log into the system, you will find a series of instructions, as well as all the data we have on him," another Commander, the only one as young as Damon, takes over. "Study him. Study his actions and find relevance in them. Absorb yourself in him, try to understand how he is feeling and why he is doing this. Find a pattern in his behavior; your very first task is to profile him. You have three days to make a profile. In three days we will meet again and go over your discoveries. This is your main priority, delegate all your other tasks to the members of your team."
"The data you have received is highly confidential, remember that," Damon warns. "You are dismissed."
Everyone leave their chairs in a hurry. No one's device chimed during this meeting, which shows the success of our training. They have turned us into a human like robots.
I am the last one to leave the room and as soon as I make the turn into the corridor, someone's fingers wrap around my hand, squeezing me with brutal force, creasing my skin and churning my bones.
I can tell it is him as soon as he brings his lips close to my face, whispering into my ear.
"I hope you understand," his breath is hot on my skin, "I expect you to excel in this."
He releases me and disappears back into the room, leaving tears in the corner of my eyes and red marks on my skin as a reminder that, even in a system based on truth, those who possess power are entitled to their lies.
AN: Hello and welcome to my new Stelena story! After finishing Multiverse, I didn't think I would write another story. However, I can't seem to drop writing, and Stelena already has a background I'm invested in, so it is easy to allow myself to be pulled back in.
Anyway, this will be a dystopian story, one of my favorite genres, one I have never tried writing before. One chapter will be written from Elena's pov, while the other will be written from Stefan's, and so on in order to provide you with diversity in pov.
How do you like it so far? I am open to all the feedback you guys have to offer :) talk to you soon, hopefully.