The Wall

We descended a dark stairwell lined with small squares of light. Pushing open the doors at the bottom, we found ourselves in a shiny, silver room. There were bits of machinery laying on every available work surface. Robots whirred and lasers shone in blues and purples. Everything was new and foreign. Except for a dark face focused intently on a computer screen. Deshi.

I snuck up quietly behind him and shouted, “Hi Desh!” He jumped in his chair. When he recovered, he glared at me and chastised me like a child.

“You know, you really are so immature sometimes. I’m working on something very important,” he said.

“I bet you are,” I said sincerely. “What exactly?”

“I’m working on a computer bug that will open all the Ring gates simultaneously and then latch them again.”

“Ooh!” I said mockingly.

He looked at me with tired impatience. A look I was so familiar with, I barely noticed it anymore.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked, raising his dark brows.

“I’m getting fixed up,” I said, overly chirpy, swinging my elbows.

Deshi looked unimpressed. If he was interested or curious, he didn’t show it. He waved us around his table without looking up from his screen. “Healing room is in there,” he said, pointing to a worn, wooden door in the far corner of the room.

When I was nine, my mother broke her wrist. She said she tripped, braced herself awkwardly, and fell on it. I never believed her. She had a ringed bruise around it, which looked far too much like someone had grasped her strongly and wouldn’t let go. Someone like my stepfather Paulo. Mother had always been steady on her feet. She walked with purpose but never hurried. I’d always suspected there may have been a physical side to her abuse but if she didn’t report it herself, there wasn’t much I could do.

Luckily, because she was a seamstress, her hands were considered her livelihood and the Superiors granted her treatment. We were sent to the hospital for an x-ray. I sat on a chair inside the room but behind a low screen and glass window while they did it. The noises were loud and cracked like lightning. I pulled her handbag up to my chin and peeked over the edge, scared she was going to be electrocuted. It was one of the only times I ever heard her use an a

This room was very similar.

There was a metal table in the center and plastic chairs lined one wall behind a glass screening window that rose to the ceiling. Hovering above the table was a glass cabinet with at least twenty pipes coming out of it in different positions. Surrounding the table were six long-armed metal contraptions co

I was too scared to ask.

A woman with short, blonde hair came in behind us. Her glasses were attached to a chain around her neck. She held a clipboard and was studying it intently. Without looking up, she said, “Pietre, what are you doing here? You’ve used your quota for the month.”

For the first time, he seemed ruffled. He ran a hand through his light brown hair and spoke to his feet. “Er… umm, sorry, Doctor Yashin. It’s not for me, it’s for her.” He pointed in my direction with a surly look on his face. Suddenly he seemed younger, closer to our age than he pretended to be. The woman peered up from her clipboard and assessed me critically. She held up my arm in the cast and asked me to remove my hat, making ahs and hms as she wrote things down in a sharp, break-the-pencil kind of way.

“Very well,” she said curtly. “On whose directive?”

“Vereshchagin.”

Vereshi… what? I smothered a giggle at Gus’s mouthful of a last name, receiving a nasty look from Pietre.

“Right, I’ll confirm. Get her undressed and on the table for me for when I return.”

I gave them both an incredulous look. There was no way I was undressing in front of either of them. As if reading my mind, Pietre smiled darkly and said, “I have no interest in seeing you naked but if you want to train, we have to do this first.”

“No,” I said plainly.

“Well, you’ll need help getting into position on the table. You don’t know which hoses go where or which way to lie. And with the cast…”

I thought about it. Careen would stand there and point out all my imperfections. Pietre seeing me was a horror I couldn’t envisage.

“Get Deshi. Does he know what to do?”

They both paused and exchanged glances. Pietre nodded and left the room, returning with a disgruntled Deshi dangling off his flexed arm. And when it was explained what he needed to do, his dark face went a fu

“No. No way. Get Careen to do it,” he said, shaking his head.

“I’m not that disgusting. Please Desh. This is embarrassing enough as it is.”

Deshi’s shoulders slumped and I knew I’d gotten my way. “Man, Joseph will kill me if he finds out about this.”

Careen smiled at me i

God, she was clueless. I think she actually thought I wanted Deshi in there for a romantic reason. I snorted at the idea.

Deshi helped me undress and kindly wrapped me in a sheet, saying he would remove it when the doctor returned. He showed me how to put my arms into the metal cradles on either side of the table and my feet in similar ones at the base of the table. Lying on the icy metal with a glass coffin hanging over me, I was completely exposed. I stared up at it wondering what was going to happen, when Deshi’s face appeared above me.

“Are you going to tell me what this is all about or is it better I don’t know?” I gave him a look. “Right, better I don’t know,” he said sullenly.

The door clanged and a gust of air threatened to blow the sheet off my bony body. Deshi looked at me one last time. “It will hurt,” he whispered as he shuffled behind the low wall and sat down on a plastic chair, his legs crossed elegantly.

The doctor shouted out, “Right, Rosa. Try and relax, I’m going to restrain you properly now.” I heard a long beep and then the metal cradles clamped shut with a loud snap, around my wrists and ankles. I tried not to struggle but I could feel my heart thumping loudly in my chest and my breathing increasing as I started to panic. Deshi called out, “It’s all right, Rosa, try to breathe normally.”

I tried to think of something else, “So, what’s with the glass coffin?” I asked. “Is an enchanted poison apple part of the treatment?” It reminded me of one of the ‘fairy tales’ I had read, Snow White. I grimaced at the thought of Deshi as Prince Charming, leaning to kiss me awake.

Deshi grunted and muttered, “Truly woeful, Rosa.” I felt a pang of missing for Rash, my friend from the Classes whose bad humor and constant pranking made him the male version of myself. He would understand the need to make light of this frightening situation.

Dr. Yashin answered in a measured tone but I sensed she was amused by my attempt at humor. “We don’t know exactly why they use the glass box, only that when we tried without it, two staff members were badly burned and the recipient died.”

“Oh,” I sighed. Humor evaporated and fear returned.

I sucked in a long breath but it hurt. Distraction was inadequate when a glass box was descending on you. I didn’t want to do this. Out. I wanted to get out. My eyes were dancing crazily in my head, darting around the room, looking for the door. I felt a cool hand on arm.

Her eyes were calm, a green-hazel color. “I’m going to attach you to the machine. Just remember, we are doing this to help you. It will speed up your healing. You will feel much better when we’re done.” Stop trying to convince me, I thought, it only makes it harder to believe you.

She paused and looked at me with those mixed eyes, “Have you eaten breakfast?”