The world began in darkness. The song of metal grinding against metal wailed into the oppressive shadows and reverberated in the vertical shaft, giving it shape. Shuddering jolts rocked the ascending box on its journey, giving it substance.

A young man knelt peacefully in the caccophany and contemplated the purpose of this reality. He had seemingly attained prescience here in this moment. Casting his mind in all directions he found no memories. An abundance of knowledge lay strewn around the mental landscape but no identity. There was a world beyond this lightless tower and the little box carrying him up through it. In some other part of him fear swelled vividly.

When his eyes didn't adjust to the darkness the man reached into the space around him. Nimble fingers traced the shapes of boxes and other containers. He discovered nothing to stem the tide of terror rising in the distance within him. Time passed strangely as he built a mental map of his surroundings. When he was done running his hands over everything and committing their dimensions to memory he felt that a long time had passed. Too much time to have found his way around such a confined space.

The young man resumed his place on the floor of his box and cast around in his thoughts once again. A name shook loose but it was without context and, therefor, without purpose. His distant fear had risen like a tidal wave and now rushed toward him. He could think of no action to take and so he simply waited for the panic to crash upon him. He felt himself rock at the force as it washed through him and flowed out into the darkness. The aftermath was peaceful but no more enlightening.

The box hitched to a stop and the blackness stilled somehow. Time passed in heartbeats. A clang ruined the silence in its infancy. The squeal of hinges preceded an explosion of daylight from above which struck the man's face. He grimaced into the dazzling illumination and stood. Now that he had been blinded by both darkness and light he wondered if his eyes were worth having at all.

Chattering silhouettes shimmered against a blazing backdrop. The voices identified the speakers as teen boys even before the stench wafted down into the box. A clearer voice rang above the rest, 'grab the rope, Greenie.'

Blinking into the blurring shapes, he searched for the rope in question and wondered if the speaker even meant to address him.

The sunlight's sting softened enough for him to spot the looped rope which had been lowered into the box for him to grab hold of. In a flurry of insistent hands he was hoisted into a crowd of boys who continued to mutter and occasionally prod him.

A tall, broad shouldered teen with pale skin and dark hair set heavy hands upon the newcomer's shoulders.

'Welcome to the glade,' he said with a smile more dazzling than the relentless sun. 'I'm Nick. I'm in charge here.'

'What's the glade?'

The older boy chuckled and stepped back to wave a hand around in a vague gesture. He said simply, 'home sweet home, Greenie.'

The vast space stretched out in all directions. A wooded area was visible in one direction and buildings in another as well as fields and other apparently purpose-built areas. Around the edge of it all stood massive walls which quickly dwarfed what had initially felt like miles of free space.

'Are those walls to keep things in or out?' He asked evenly, already dreading the answer.

The smile fell from Nick's face as he replied, 'both. Now, no more questions. In time you'll learn everything you need to know.'

The new arrival in the glade felt his jaw fall open. 'In time?' he said softly. 'Look. I can't remember anything. I mean anything at all.'

'That's normal.' That mouth wore no trace of the dazzling smile from moments ago and was set in a humourless line. 'Just give it time.'

With a shake of the head he couldn't help but retort, 'you said "need to know." Well, who decides that?'

With unnatural speed Nick had gripped the smaller boy's shirt and swung him to one side, pinning him to a nearby tree. 'I said no more questions, Slinthead!' he snarled.

This only sparked the question of when 'Greenie' had become 'Slinthead' but it seemed like poor judgement to ask. Instead he looked at the strong hands holding him in place.

'So that's why you're in charge,' he commented in a low voice.

In the space of a single heartbeat Nick's face flickered all kinds of conflicting and mutually-exlcusive emotions before falling still and expressionless.

'That's right, Greenie. You got anything more to say?'

A few tense moments passed and courage was gathered up somewhere in the midst of a storm that threatened to tear it all down. Finally he was able to give a response.

'Show us all the price of asking questions.'

That same kaleidoscope of emotions danced over Nick's features and this time took longer to resolve. The newcomer knew that a beating from this boy could be serious. He only hoped that that wasn't the message he wanted to send to the others. Silence raged for another few moments before Nick roughly thrust with both hands and stepped back.

'Put him in the slammer,' he said. There was a broadly recognised notion that this was a compromise.

Faces and scenery whirled past him as he was whisked into a small and unfurnished concrete room with a sturdy door. The boys who had brought him here looked in at him through a small, barred window.

Just like that he was in jail. He blinked stupidly and replayed the last few minutes in his mind.

'That was stupid,' said an accented voice from beyond the window.

'If that guy is allowed to be in charge then I'll have to be stupid to fit in,'

'What do you mean?' Blonde hair came into view as the boy peered in at him. The others who had come appeared to have left.

'Well,' he said, trying to filter the irritation out of his voice, 'I've come here with no memory or identity. I don't know where I am or who I am or why I'm here.' He stepped to the window to look the blonde boy in the eye. 'So I ask questions. Does that sound unreasonable?' There was an effort to not sound confrontational.

'He did say no more questions...' This was said almost too soft to hear. The boy was no longer looking in through the window.

'Then,' he continued, ignoring the last comment, 'he attacks me. Pins me to a tree and yells in my face.'

There's no reply this time.

'So, to recap,' he begins counting off points on his fingers. 'Amnesia. Questions. Violence.'

The blonde head swivels as Nick comes into view. He must have been hiding out of sight. Sneaky bastard.

'Questions can be dangerous.' Nick's voice was commanding and authorotative. He sounded like a different person than the guy who had condemned the newcomer to the Slammer.

'You assaulted me,' he replied sternly. 'Who's dangerous?'

Nick's eyes narrowed. 'What's your name?'

He remembered the name that had come to him in the box and knew it was his own. It was the only information he had which was his. He considered giving a false name and contemplated 'Isaac' or 'Edison.' He discarded these on the grounds that he wanted to be clear that he was keeping his name for himself. The only secret in this place that belonged to him.

'Green,' he answered carefully.

Some moments passed.

'You'll be in there with no food until you see reason.'

'You're withholding food?' he felt his eyebrows shoot skyward like they were trying to leave his face and then the atmosphere.

'The food is ours.' Nick's voice swelled in volume and the stability left it as quickly as it had come. 'You're not entitled to it until you're one of us.'

Only the briefest consideration afforded Green his retort. 'I am one of you,' he said. 'I'm caught up in your crude judicial system. That could only apply to me if I'm a citizen. You've already made me one of you.' He let a few seconds slip by before raising his palms and adding, 'entirely against my will.'

Nick's face became iron. 'Fine,' he said in a deadly tone. 'Come sundown you leave the Glade.'

The blonde boy gasped.

Green didn't flinch. 'Fine by me.'

Turning to leave, Nick said, 'come with me, Newt,' and marched off without looking back.

Newt stood looking stricken.

'Better do as you're told,' said Green. 'You might get exiled with me.'

Newt looked sharply in the direction Nick had gone and Green began to wonder what mess he had talked his way into.

'You don't know what that means,' Newt said with terror evident on his face.

'Should I have asked him?' Green couldn't keep the mocking tone from his voice.

All of this over some questions.

'What is your problem?!' Anger had settled over Newt. He stood taller.

'Think about it,' Green said. He tried to spin his brain into high-gear and structure these still-forming thoughts. 'Who's at the top of the ladder around here? Who has all of the knowledge? Nick and Nick, right?' He intended to leave time for Newt to respond but found himself talking right through. 'Here on the bottom rung the Greenie isn't allowed to know anything. Questions are met with hostility and aggression.'

'What's your point?' Newt had settled into a more neutral posture and appeared to be listening. That was all the encouragement that was required.

'When knowledge is power secrets are currency.' Green forced himself to pause here and gather his wits. 'Nick has created an aristocracy to rule over the underclass. Information is controlled to keep the knowledge-poor in their place.'

Green was acutely aware of how big those claims were and how little experience stood behind it. The steady expression on Newt's face told Green that he had struck a chord. He decided to quit while he was ahead.

Too many moments paraded between the two young men and discomfort swelled in the silence. Without farewell Newt ducked out of sight and melted into the quietness leaving Green to his ill-fitting solitude.