CHAPTER FOURTEEN
11
The walls appear somehow darker than ever as I follow Kelly through the long hallways of the underground Ashwood Estates base.
I've only been allowed to get so deep down into the important areas a few times, and I don't like it. Too many dark corners.
"Here we go, Nivi," Kelly says and we take the last turn.
The corridor with General Andrakkus Sutekh's briefing room appears even more threatening than the rest of this place. The ceiling is painted red, with the emblem of my people in black: Our great leader's face in front of the letters M and P.
M P as in Mogadorian progress. M P as in malicious predators. M P as in monstrous pillagers.
M P as in murdering people. People I love.
As we come closer, I spot the General's personal standing in the shadows of the big door to the briefing room.
Four big, vat-born Mogadorian soldiers with long, violent daggers. Very impressive.
They're known to be the best of the best. Outstanding by both experience and skill in combat. The vat-born's elite.
The four of them keep anyone from entering, except for people with special appointments. The General is very busy these days, and there's a long queue of way more important people than me who are all trying to get into a meeting with him.
Being the General's daughter's friend has its benefits after all. I should be grateful for what I can get.
Grateful.
G-r-a-t-e-f-u-l. Eight letters.
Being grateful is the natural reaction to receiving benefits. The natural reaction to benefits such as the compassion and sympathy Kelly has been showing me over the past few weeks.
I'm not good at natural reactions, they usually either fail to appear completely, or just partly pop up. Dad had once explained to me that, for interaction with other living beings, the absence of natural reactions can lead to the interaction not functioning properly, as the other person will often not quite understand what you mean.
That's why I often have to force those natural reactions, which leads to them actually not being natural anymore, which makes the whole thing paradoxical therefore and senseless. Dad had told me to do it anyway. It would help me to not feel too different. What it actually does is help the others to not feel I'm too different.
Well, to be honest, Kelly hasn't arranged this meeting just out of compassion and sympathy, though. Words like compassion and sympathy probably don't even exist in her vocabulary; and if they do, they probably don't mean much more to her than the little earthworms she still picks up from time to time to play around with.
Not that it's something to complain about, I doubt that any Mogadorian knows such words. In fact, compared to other Mogs our age, Kelly actually is a lovely young lady, with way more compassion and sympathy towards weaker people like me than any of the others. Unlike them, she doesn't bully me around or laughs at my disability. Or at least not quite as often.
She might be the 'spoiled princess of Ashwood', as some jealous kids our age call her behind her back, but she is the only thing close to a friend I have.
And even though she usually behaves like the whole world - especially I - should bow down to her, she helped me get through those weeks after Dad died. I'll never forget that. Never.
In these weeks, when she was about the only person I'd talk to, we've grown a lot closer together. I had never imagined it would be possible for me to experience this, but during this time, I've actually come to really appreciate her. You could even call the bond between us, well, friendship.
Friendship.
F-r-i-e-n-d-s-h-i-p. Ten letters.
I think I've understood this concept. If two people get along well with each other, it's called friendship. I definitely do get along well with Kelly – to the point that I almost like her – and I think that she actually does fell the same about me, even though she doesn't show that for some reason. She usually treats me like dirt, but my Dad had once explained to me that people sometimes do the opposite of what they actually feel.
I didn't really understand why. But Dad usually knew his stuff really well.
Despite all this, the actual reason why Kelly had a meeting with her father arranged in the first place was not out of compassion but pure selfishness. The truth is that she actually uses me as an excuse to finally get an audience with her father. She needs me, because apparently the General doesn't take her seriously in private. By arranging a meeting for me, she hopes to finally get the chance to tell him what she wanted to tell him for years already.
This meeting is not about me, that's just a pretext. It's about her. It's always about her.
Kelly and I both want the same thing from the General, though, and that's the only reason I've agreed to this whole thing. That, and the fact that Kelly threatened to feed me to the Pikens if I don't.
Freedom.
F-r-e-e-d-o-m. Seven letters.
We both want freedom.
'Freedom is a fool's illusion. All of us are just another part of the game of fate. And this game has only one rule: Progress. There is no room for illusions.' The great book, page fourteen, paragraph two, second sentence.
I don't believe in this part.
It contradicts everything they teach us in Mogschool, but I don't believe in this part.
Freedom is not just an illusion. It's more.
I believe in freedom.
And so does Kelly.
Just like me, Kelly has been caged in this base for almost all her life. We may live at the surface and not so deep down here, but all in all it's the same thing. The furthest she ever gets away from here is on rare trips to the Washington D.C. city center. She finally wants to have the freedom to travel around the world for a while, even if that means having to live among humans. To get to know the planet she's going to be a part of ruling over in a couple of years, when the Mogadorians have taken over world domination. To do something instead of being trapped in an underground fortress.
'Gosh, I can't believe we're still hiding down here. It's like we're the ones who are afraid of the humans, not the other way around.' she had said during one of those long conversations we've had lately. Well, it's not exactly what you could call a conversation.
I've looked the definition up in a dictionary. The term 'conversation' can only be used when both interlocutors take part in the dialogue.
In our case, mostly Kelly just kept bragging about pretty much everything there is to brag about. I don't mind, I never know what to say when having a 'conversation', anyway. But it's not a correct conversation. I'll just call it talk. Talk.
So during those talks, Kelly's made it pretty clear that she wants to get away from this place. And Kelly usually gets what she wants.
That was one part of our talks, escaping the Ashwood Estates. But as much as Kelly wished for that, there has always been that one other subject she would always talk about. The one big question that just doesn't seem to leave her mind for a minute.
Something you'd never expect of the spoiled princess of Ashwood.
Something unselfish, kindhearted.
In fact, what she told me was just so surprising I had a seizure.
In the very beginning, the day she had found me crying over my Dad's ashes for the first time, her talks had still been limited to small rants about life's little injustices. She had done that for me, to cheer me up, to distract me from Dad's death. It's hard to believe that the cold-hearted, arrogant girl that is walking in front of me right now with her head held high is the same girl that had the mercy to be there for me when I was drowning in grief and sorrow about Dad. She was the only one who cared all this time, and she still is.
I definitely show how grateful I am for that, and that's another reason I agreed to her plan to convince the General to let us leave.
She might be the daughter of an important and powerful leader of my people but that was not one of the reasons. And she might be in such a high social and military position that she could as well just order me to come along, but that's not one of the reasons, either. No. Not one of the reasons. Not one of the reasons why I'm following her right now. No.
I'm following her because she is… I stop dead in my tracks for a second, before the word comes to my mind.
Different.
D-i-f-f-e-r-e-n-t. Nine letters.
'The right thoughts are what differs us from the minor creatures. Wasting thoughts on unnecessary matters is a hindrance and therefore dangerous to Mogadorian progress.' Page hundred-seventeen, paragraph five, fourth sentence.
But Kelly is not just different from minor creatures, she's different from everyone else, too.
And that's exactly the reason why I'm following her. Because she's different.
And because I am different, too.
If I wasn't, Kelly surely wouldn't have told me the things I know now. She knows that anybody else would just report her to the authorities right away. Anybody else would dismiss her views as treason and that would have cost her her high social and military position at least. If not her head.
If I was anyone else, Kelly wouldn't have trusted me.
But I'm not anyone else. I'm Nivi. Yes, that's me, Nivi. Nivi, the one Kelly trusted. It's me.
I don't dare thinking about the content of those talks, though. Not right now. What she told me was so revolutionary and shocking, every time I do think about it I have one of my autistic seizures.
Some people would call those talks eye-opening, even I don't quite understand this expression. When you suddenly understand something you didn't understand before, it's not like you open your eyes, more like a barrier in your brain suddenly broke and then you can think about things in a different way. I'd rather call it barrier-breaking.
I often had that sensation when Dad would explain things to me. And the exact same thing happened with Kelly. She'd say everything in a way that even I could understand them, so all in all you can say that she's a very barrier-breaking person.
That also is part of the big Kelly-mystery, that imposed itself on me in the past weeks.
On one hand there's Kelly Sutekh, daughter of the General, who is an arrogant prick who brags about how she could do everything better than everybody else. The Kelly Sutekh who gets everything she ever asks for and still complains about how unfair her life is. The Kelly Sutekh who is my commander.
On the other hand, there's the Kelly Sutekh who is different. The Kelly Sutekh who doesn't even seem to think in a Mogadorian way at all. The Kelly Sutekh who is my friend.
She keeps switching between those two states. Most of the time when we're alone, she's gently and understanding as the friend-Kelly. The rest of the time she's harsh and ignorant as the commander-Kelly.
Two halves of the same person. Just like two different coats she can put on whenever she wants to.
Right now, she's the commander-type, pride and arrogance shining in her eyes, her straight back and bullish walk display confidence and nervousness at the same. I try imitating her posture, but it just looks ridiculous on me.
On me. Nivi. Nivi, that's me. Nivi, still the one Kelly trusted.
Trusted with some seriously irritating, shocking, radical, almost scandalous stuff.
Again, I have to stop my thoughts from moving onwards. The excitement and mixed opinions in my mind from just thinking about all that she told me is already making me nervous. I can't risk a seizure right now. The ideas she has talked about - strange, foreign, alien ideas from a Mogadorian's point of view, the exact opposite of what you would expect the daughter of a General to believe – it is too much of a threat. If someone found out about all that, Kelly would be dead within minutes.
And if someone found out that I had known all this time, I'd join her promptly. Not to mention what would happen if someone discovered my own secrets.
Secrets.
S-e-c-r-e-t-s. Seven letters.
'A man with secrets is dangerous to his fellow men. Keeping secrets from the cause therefore is a crime. A cohesive society is the key to progress.' The great book, page twenty-six, paragraph two, first, second and third sentence.
I am a criminal, no question. That's what the great book says. But I didn't choose to be a criminal, no. Dad did. Dad chose for me when he saved my life. Dad chose. Not me. Not Nivi, No.
The four guards motion us to stop as we approach them. Kelly throws her head back into the nape of her neck to look them in their cruel faces, but I don't bother to. The floor is way less intimidating.
The guards announce our arrival to the General through the closed door of the briefing room. The general is in the middle of an appointment with someone else right now, so we have to wait until they have finished discussing their matters.
Kelly lets out an impatient sigh and frowns at the guards. Her father isn't the only one who hates waiting.
"Now, now, young lady," one of the vat-born guards says in an overly mocking tone and pokes her with the tip of his dagger. "Don't you be so antsy."
For a second my heart makes a jump. Any regular guard allowing himself to talk to the General's daughter in such a disrespecting way must have either gone crazy or grown tired of life. Someone of such a high rank as Kelly would just outright order the execution of this guy for this. If this was anyone else than her, the guard's life would be worth less than a straw right now.
And a straw is not worth much, if that is not clear.
But the fact that the soldiers are treating Kelly so lax is nothing extraordinary around here. Being the General's daughter, Kelly has a lot more contact to the soldiers than anyone else our age, and she gets along pretty well with all of them. Growing up in their middle, with a father that never had time and two brothers that almost killed each other, the vat-born soldiers have become almost like family replacement for her over the years. A really big family, maybe, but it still is better than nothing.
Better than what I got left. Which actually is nothing. Nothing except for Kelly. Yep, only got Kelly left.
So instead of punishing the soldier, Kelly just laughs and dramatically fakes being hurt, holding her side as if the dagger has caused some serious damage. The guard that poked her laughs and pats her shoulder.
I watch the whole thing and can't help but be jealous. For a Mogadorian, Kelly is exceptionally social. Despite being raised as an ignorant prick, she treats every Mogadorian with respect, no matter his military status or his origins or whatever the other kids our age judge people by. An almost generous characteristic, considering how other people in her position deal ordinary soldiers. She doesn't seem to care if someone is trueborn or has been artificially created in one of the underground breeding stations, she just sees the Mog in everyone.
And unlike me, she doesn't have a congenital disability that prevents her from normal social interaction. No, she doesn't. Jealous.
Anyway, actual trueborns like Kelly have become rarer these days, and because of that, most of them believe they are somewhat special and just overall better than the vat-born.
Vat-born.
V-a-t-b-o-r-n.
It's strange, but there's no entry in the great book about them, either. I've often thought about that. About why there is no mentioning of our artificially created conspecifics. Perhaps our great leader just didn't think they're important enough to mention them when he wrote the great book.
Or he didn't want them to think they're important enough.
'Either way, it's an issue that needs to be dealt with,' Dad would always say. 'In the last few years, the Mogadorian society has been splitting apart more and more. On the one side, there's the trueborn, a small percentage of the total Mog population, but still the ones in charge, the ones with all the power. They are drowning in wealth and luxury knickknacks, while the vat-born plug away at the dirty and hard work.'
That was a concept I understand, Mogadorian social structures. No abstract nonsense, just straightout facts.
It has been like that for ever, with the trueborn reigning over the rest, and it has never been a problem, neither from the vat-born side, nor from the trueborn one. Up until a few years.
'Discipline, awe and duty, these are three principles our lives are dedicated to. Our discipline makes us strong, our awe makes us smart, and our duty gives us a purpose.' Page three, paragraph one, first sentence.
Under these conditions, the vat-born were created. Our great leader himself was part of the brilliant minds behind the project. Him and some expert scientists had been working on it for years, until in the end the result were the vat-born.
The perfect soldiers.
Discipline, awe and duty, the three characteristics every vat-born inherits at his or her birth. They cover each aspect an ideal Mogadorian needs, and additionally guarantee absolute obedience. Without a will of their own, there's no questioning orders. Simple but brilliant logic.
During the chemical breeding process, every vat-born is being artificially programmed to follow these laws, no matter what situation it might personally get them into. Once a vat-born comes out of the breeding facilities, it feels an overwhelming need to obey every order their military superiors give them without thinking twice. No morals, no individuality, just another face in the unstoppable army of Mogadore, waiting to crush the enemy.
'The gap between the two different kinds of the same race got bigger and bigger over the years, with the trueborn shamelessly exploiting the vat-born unconditional loyalty,' Dad had once explained to me when I had asked him. 'At the first great expansion, on the glorious day the Mogadorians overcame Lorien, half of the entire vat-born population died on the battlefield. The trueborn simply used them as cannon fodder for their strategies, with a frightening amount of tasteless disregard of vat-born lives.
After the battle, they simply replaced the dead soldiers with new ones, not even mentioning the price the vat-born had paid.
Of course, that was the plan all the way. Having an endless supply of loyal soldiers. It was the reason why our great leader created the vat-born in the first place.
But after the bloodbath on Lorien, there were some who questioned this throwing-away of lives. The vat-born were Mogadorians, too, after all, and a few voices that had the courage to speak out criticized the way the trueborn didn't care about their artificial brothers in the tiniest bit.
Those voices were shut down immediately, cruelly eliminated for high treason and sedition. For a long time, no one dared to say a word, fearing to share the fate of the first few who were unfortunate enough to publicly admit their opinion.'
'But Dad,' I had replied, 'What's the difference between them and us? I mean, biologically, we're almost the same. Why shouldn't we treat vat-born like trueborn?'
'That's exactly the point, Nivi,' he had said. 'Sympathy for the weak - the vat-born in this case - is viewed as a fatal character trait in the Mogadorian society. Our great leader benefits from us trueborn believing we should treat the vat-born as dirt, so he doesn't want that to change.'
I had nodded, because that's something I understand. Straightout facts. Yes. I like facts.
Our great leader had relied on society's cruelty and ignorance. He had been sure the few objectors that had ever doubted him had been extinguished.
Well, as I found out during those conversations with Kelly, he was wrong.
The door to the briefing room suddenly opens and I'm surprised to see a human walk out. Judging by all the badges pinned to his anorak, he must be an important military man. As he leaves the briefing room, I hear the General's loud, rough voice call after him.
"Don't think you'll just get away like that, agent Purdy. Be careful with your next moves, or I swear your country will regret ever having deceived the unstoppable force of Mogadore."
All the colour is drained from the human's face as he doubles his pace, storms past us and rushes towards the exit. As he disappears around the corner and I shoot Kelly a nervous glance, but she doesn't seem to know what this was about, either.
The vat-born guards give us permission to enter the briefing room and I turn my attention back to the impending meeting with the General.
The General. I'm meeting him. Me. Nivi. It's me. Meeting the General. My hands start shaking at the fact that I'll be standing face to face to one of the most important Mogadorians in history.
General.
G-e-n-e-r-a-l. I'm so nervous I need my fingers to count the letters. Four, Five, Six, Seven. Seven letters.
'Reaching the rank of a Mogadorian General is the rarest and biggest honor there is. A General's skill in combat, his faith in progress, hisdedication to our cause and his never ending will to fight exceed the average by far and are an example of the perfect Mogadorian.' Page sixty-nine, paragraph four, third and fourth sentence.
Blessed with an iron will and a precise sense for opportunities, General Andrakkus Suketh had quickly moved up the social and military ladder in his early years. The big hopes that were put into him weren't let down when he lead the first great expansion in Lorien.
One of the strongest and mightiest warriors of our race, and a brilliant tactician, too. That's what the Mog teachers keep preaching in our little Mog schools. He might even take our great leader's place some day.
Well, in reality, the General is way more than just strong, mighty and brilliant. He's a scary, ruthless, unpredictable Mogadorian with the tendency to kill before breakfast; some even call him Setrákus Ra's right hand.
One thing is for sure, this man has killed more people than anyone else in Mog history. And surely he won't hesitate before knocking your head off at the slightest sign of disobedience.
Kelly turns to me and gives my shaking hands a disapproving look.
"Stop that," she says in a way that has some resemblance to her father's harsh tone. "When we're in there," she motions over her shoulder towards the briefing room, "you mustn't show any weakness, you hear me? Under no circumstances, is that clear? No shaking, no stuttering, and pray to god that you won't have another seizure. If my father finds out about your autism thing, he'll immediately dump you somewhere in the surveying area and you'll never get out of there, not in a thousand years. So, never show any sign of weakness, or your only chance will dissolve into ashe, understood?"
Our only chance, she means. This opportunity is as important to her as to me, if not even more. If I fail to somehow trick the General into believing I'm ready to live outside of Ashwood Estates – which I'm definitely not –, then he won't give Kelly the permission either.
At least, that's what Kelly is convinced of. Personally, I don't see the connection between her and me, but who am I to question the General's daughter.
I nod to let her know she's not going to be let down. I want to say something reassuring, too, because people like being lied to, but I don't know what to say. I never know what to say. Most of the things I do say somehow don't come out the way I want them to.
It has to do with my autism, Dad had once explained to me. He had told me that a normal brain filters out ninety percent of all the incoming information, so that the conscious thinking doesn't overload with unnecessary stuff. My own brain is usually just like that, as normal as anyone else's. But sometimes, when I am suddenly interrupted in the middle of my thoughts – just like earlier today – or I'm under big pressure, or sometimes even just for no reason at all, a switch inside my mind gets triggered and this filter suddenly stops working. Then, all the unimportant details from my surroundings all hit me at once, my whole subconscious gets emptied right on me and I have a seizure.
'It's nothing to be ashamed of,' Dad would always tell me when I came home crying from school after the other kids had bullied me around again. 'It's okay, it's a part of you. Just don't let it get you down. One day you will see things differently, and then you'll understand this is not'
He would then hug me and gently stroke my hair back very unmogadorianlike while I would bury my face in his uniform. That's what I miss the most, the safety of his embrace, the silent songs he would always hum, that caring look in his big purple eyes.
I close my eyes for a second and shake my head. Thinking back to the good times isn't what will help me get through the meeting with the General.
Focus.
F-o-c…
No, I can't get distracted anymore.
I gulp, trying my best to block out the protest of the autistic part of my brain. I can't let anything distract me from the current situation, shove the precious memories away.
I have to be strong, I tell myself. Strong and brave, like Dad. He gave his life to the cause, even if he wasn't as convinced as the others. Even if he doubted the reasons for our presence on this stranger planet so far away from Mogadore, he still gave his life for the cause. For progress.
And now, I have to be strong for him. Put in a complex way, it was progress that saved my life as he rescued me back from the bloodbath on Lorien.
And for his sake, so that all he did won't be for nothing, I take a deep breath, pull myself together and follow Kelly into the briefing room.
Be strong.
Strong.
S-t-r-o-n-g.
'Only the strong will survive. Only the strong will prevail. Only the strong can travel the glorious path of progress.' Page six, Paragraph one, sixth sentence.
Only the strong will not panic when standing face to face with the General himself.
And slowly, I begin to realize I'm not of the strong kind.
Hey evewybuddy,
Thanks for your reviews folks, I love all of you. No exception.
I don't have much else to say today, so I'll just remind you guys that you can always see how close I am to finishing the next chapter by clicking on my profile, where I'll be updating the progress of all my chapters.
So, as promised, here's the next chapter. Next one is already on its way, might take a while, though.
In the meantime, have a wonderful day, and thanks to ALL of you for reading my story =)