Jason Luthor

FLOOR 21

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

To create an acknowledgments page is tricky. In trying to acknowledge everyone that influenced the creation of this work, I’m forced to dig deep and imagine everyone that influenced the characters and settings or who simply pushed me to be the best writer that I could be. To that end I want to first thank the entire team at Amazon that has helped bring this work to light. Thank you for putting up with my repeated e-mails and for helping get this novel into the hands of readers. Speaking of which, thank you readers, because I wouldn’t write if I didn’t feel I had a chance to make a positive impact on someone’s day. Next, I wish to thank all my friends that put up with my nonsense. I’m dramatic and moody at times, but so it goes with writers. Our heads are in the clouds and we are always looking for the next adventure. Thanks to all of you who have accompanied me on my journey. Specifically I’d like to thank Josh and Jamila for being around for so long. A special acknowledgment to Jamila, for her passion for entertainment and the inspiration that ignites in others. To my friend Winston, thank you for always being encouraging and having a positive word for me. A very unique thank you to Christina Coleman, the best reporter on the planet and a person that helped fuel my ambition at times when I felt unsure in my ability to pursue my writing goals. Of course, I cannot end an acknowledgments page without thanking my parents. I’m sure they were never quite sure what to make of me. I was never quite sure what to make of myself, either. But they were always supportive and loving, and in this world those are two of the greatest gifts you’ll ever get. I wrote this book with the theme of being remembered and I can promise I will always love and remember all of you for your ongoing support.

THE GIRL’S STORY

Recording One

My name is Jackie, and it’s not so bad living here. Seriously. At least, I don’t think so anyway, but I guess it’s hard to say. Then again, I’ve never really been anywhere else. I’ve rarely even been below Floor 12. My parents won’t let me. They say things get bad down there, so I have to stay up here, on the higher levels.

Don’t get me wrong; I mean, I wish I didn’t have to. Things get kind of boring, walking the same halls every day. I’m always trying to find something new to do, but it’s kinda hard when you’ve lived your whole life in the same tower. Sometimes I’ll wander up to the rooftop, where we have the gardens. That’s where all of our food comes from, so we all take turns planting and harvesting. I don’t mind the work, actually, unless it means pulling carrots. Those suckers are really hard to yank out of the dirt.

When I think of it, it’s actually kind of annoying having to go to the rooftop, and not just because of the work. It’s really more about what we have to pass by as we head up there. So, the top level of the Tower is Floor 1. None of us are allowed inside, so every time we go up the stairs, we’re forced to stare at that big, golden number—the number “1” that sits on the locked entry door. I really wish I knew what was inside, but you know, nobody’s allowed in. Instead, we just have to pass by every few days when it’s our turn to work the gardens. You might as well string some candy in front of my face and tell me I’m not allowed to eat it.

Of course, you can’t just pick vegetables all day. That gets boring quick. Besides, most of the time I’m in school. Well, school’s probably too strong a word for it. We meet most days of the week in the library on Floor 6. Our teacher, Mrs. Bloom, tries to lead class the best she can. It’s just too bad our books aren’t great. A lot of them are about to fall apart, and most of them were scavenged from the lower floors. I’m not talking about something like Floors 13 or 14. I’m not even talking about Floor 21. I mean the books were taken from way down below… like, as far down as Floor 30.

I know, right? I can’t believe it myself. That’s what we have the Scavengers for, though. Without them we’d never get new books or supplies. They’re pretty much the bravest people in the Tower. They say that anyone who makes it onto a scavenging team is the type that could have been a police officer or even a soldier before all this happened. I mean, that makes sense. They wear all that riot gear, and it looks like they know how to fight. Sucks, though, since as tough as they are, every once in a while we lose one of them. That just goes with the territory of being a Scavenger.

Point is, life is only livable because of them since it’s not like we’re rolling in things to do. Sometimes I’ll sit around in the lobby with the other kids and watch movies on the Blu-Ray player, but that doesn’t always work. For instance, if it’s a really cloudy day, then the solar panels on the roof will die out, which always sucks for everyone. If we want light then, we have to burn candles, and we don’t have many of those. Then again, we don’t really have lightbulbs, either. Well, we have a few. Want to take a guess where we get those from? Yeah. Scavengers. We get everything from them.

I kinda always wanted to be one. Who wouldn’t want to be? They get to see stuff from a long time ago, before we had to live on the top of the Tower. Speaking of that, nobody really talks about the Before, and I’m not even sure how much anyone knows about it. I guess it makes sense to think that once upon a time we lived on the lower floors. Maybe even the ground… if there is a ground. I’ve never met anyone that’s seen it, not even the Scavengers, and they’ve been farther down the Tower than anyone.

When you stop and think about it, I mean, our lives don’t make sense. We couldn’t have always lived up here, right? It gets me pretty antsy thinking about it because, I mean, this is a tower, so we had to have come up the stairs at some point. Didn’t we?

I don’t know, and thinking about it gets me frustrated. When I’m in this kind of mood, I go to the rooftop and look out. You can actually see other towers rising up in the distance. Some aren’t even that far from ours. I stare at them, and I’m just like… is anybody over there? Is anybody looking back at me? Does anybody know or remember we’re trapped in this place?

Or are we all that’s left?

After I’ve gotten myself sufficiently depressed, I’ll stare over the edge of the roof, trying to see how far below I can look. Thing is, it’s impossible to see much. This tower just vanishes into the Darkness. Nobody, and I mean nobody, even knows why. It’s just blackness down there.

Oh, about Floor 12. Yeah, that’s where the Creep really starts. The Creep? It’s this… gunk. Super-disgusting stuff that you shouldn’t touch because it makes you feel weird, and the lower down the Tower you go, the more you see it. It starts to cover the walls, and it’s kinda gross. It’s really slick, like saliva, and it looks all muscle-y. Almost alive. Good thing you don’t have to worry about it when you’re higher than Floor 11. Still, I wonder what it is. We all do. I know that when you touch it, you can start hallucinating. I did once. Well, okay, I’m lying. I’ve touched it a few times when I’ve been on the lower levels, which is why my parents made the rule that I couldn’t head down there in the first place. I mean, I don’t pay attention to them, but I get why they don’t want me going that far below into the Tower. The Creep makes you see… things. Shadowy things. Sometimes they’re right in front of you, but most of the time, they’re in the corner of your eye. They say that by Floor 21, you don’t even have to touch the Creep to hallucinate, which is a total trip. Must suck to live down there.

Still, I wonder. I wonder about this all the time, actually. I wonder about what’s below Floor 21.

Um, Mom told me I should start recording my thoughts when I’m in these kind of moods, so this one might be short. I mean duh, it’s my first one. At first when she said I should record myself, I was like, okay, no. Because she’s crazy, and I don’t want to seem crazy, too. That’s no exaggeration by the way. I mean, she’s been a total whacko ever since I turned thirteen. Also, I mean, who cares about what I have to say? It’s not like I’m ever going to listen to this.

But… here I am. Probably because I really am going as crazy as her, but also because I go nuts thinking about how nobody else cares that we’re trapped here. I get it, we’re alive, so we should be grateful. But do you know how insane it makes me being the one person asking “why” when everyone else is acting like this is just the way things are? God.

Anyway, guess I’ll try to keep this up. I’m supposed to meet with Allison tonight. Don’t know what we’ll do. Try to find a new movie in the Blu-Ray collection, I guess. I think one of the boys said the Scavengers hauled up a game system from the Deep Creep. I haven’t seen one since I was a kid. The last one we had broke when I was, like, ten. That’s what? Seven years. Dang. I’d really like to play a video game again.

Recording Two

Should I start these off by saying “Second Recording” or “Recording Two”? I don’t know. I guess nobody’s going to care how I document myself. I mean, who’s going to listen to this, right? I probably won’t. Why would I? I’m just recording this so I don’t get as psycho as Mom has.

Which, by the way… I haven’t gone psycho, right? Sounds like I’m trying to convince myself. It’s just that I feel like ever since I turned seventeen, life is just… weird. Different.

Hard.

About turning seventeen. Wow, yeah. I’m getting old. That’s depressing.

Speaking of old, the oldest person I know is Mr. McCauley. He lives in apartment 8-12. Uh, should I explain that? Everyone knows that the apartments are labeled by floor and room, right? Eighth floor, room twelve. Yeah, anyway, that’s Mr. McCauley’s place. Guy’s eighty-four years old. Eighty-four. Think about that. He’s that old, and even he doesn’t really know about what happened before the Before. He claims that a long time ago, there was no Darkness and no Creep. Duh, everyone says that, so it’s not like he’s some fountain of secret wisdom or anything.

But he does say interesting stuff, like, that this tower was old even when the Darkness came. Like, super-old. He says this place used to be for poor people who couldn’t live in nicer towers, but when I ask him where the nicer towers were or what they were like, he just kind of mumbles and trails off. Weird old guy, but I like him. Still, I don’t think he actually lived before the Before. Unless someone wiped his memory or something. The reason I say that is because if he’d lived before the Darkness came, he’d have, I dunno, more details or something. He doesn’t know when the Scavenging started, and he doesn’t know what it was like to be outside the tower. He can’t even tell me what the ground was like. Honestly I get the feeling he’s just telling me stories he heard from other people. Maybe from people that came before him. That would mean we’ve been living at the top of this tower for more than eighty-four years, at least. I can’t imagine that.

How did I even start talking about this, anyway? Wait, I was going to talk about my birthday. That’s right, I was going to start talking about how depressing that was. Yeah, Mom was trying her best to keep her head together, which she’s barely been able to do since I was a kid. It’s like the minute I became a teenager, she lost it. Now she’s always so flighty. I guess I just don’t get her anymore, you know? One day she’s acting like she doesn’t have a care in the world, and the next day she’s so depressed that she doesn’t get out of bed. I worry about her, but it’s been like this for a long time. Sometimes I feel like just giving up on her, but, I mean, it’s Mom. Who just stops talking to their mom? Plus, she was at least putting in an effort that day. And Dad? Dad was… working. I don’t exactly know what he does, but I know his job is on Floor 3. That’s where they do science stuff. So anyway, my birthday was going good enough, I guess. There’s a conference room on Floor 4, where I live, and every kid’s birthday gets celebrated there. Well, except Tommy’s, but that because his Mom’s more of a nutter than mine. They had his party on the rooftop, which was pretty dang depressing. Celebrating a birthday beneath endlessly black clouds… Yeah. Happy birthday, Tommy.

But no, mine was definitely more depressing. A lot more, which sucks since things were going fine enough until the alarms went off. You’ve got a dozen kids my age trying to enjoy cake, and can we please remember that cake isn’t exactly something we can cook easily here? Anyway, we’re just trying to eat our cake when the alarm sirens go off. Yeah, exactly, right in the middle of eating something you can literally only order for yourself once a year.

I never exactly found out what happened, but I’ve got an idea. I had a chance to talk with the other kids about this, and it turns out Allison’s dad is in Security. Man, what a bad end of the straw. I’d hate to be picked for Security. It’s like having the risks of being a Scavenger but never being allowed to explore the Deep Creep, so what’s the point?

Anyway, Allison says there was a Creep infestation. It doesn’t happen too often, but when it does, just… damn. The entire tower feels like a hornet’s nest. Everyone gets antsy, starts buzzing around, and then lockdown kicks in, and we’re all forced inside our rooms.

Maybe I should explain that a bit more. See, the Creep doesn’t stay put, waiting for you to die. It’ll straight up hunt you when it wants. The people down on the lower floors are in charge of pushing it back whenever it starts to move, but they don’t always get the job done. The problem is when the Creep gets into something and starts making its way up. Maybe it gets into an old elevator shaft, or maybe it finds its way up some old piping. That’s okay. When that happens, it’s easy enough to get rid of. I hear fire normally does the job.

Once in a while, though… it just gets up into the halls. Fast. I never got the full story about what happened, but if I heard right, it crawled straight up the stairwell. That’s bad, and not like a “we’ll be okay” kind of bad. It’s real bad, since the stairwell’s our only way of moving between floors. It’s blocked up below Floor 21 specifically to keep the really bad Creep from pushing up into the higher levels. Like I’ve said, though, Creep’s kinda in a lot of places from Floor 12 downward. Nothing too intense, but bad enough.

There are days when the Creep gets angry, though. Sounds weird, right? How does something like that get angry? How should I know? All I know is that it does. It starts to pulse and grow real fast, and if it were ever to choke up the stairwell, it’d be impossible for us to travel up or down the Tower. So when it does get angry and we’re all stuck in our rooms, that’s called a lockdown. These automated iron shutters lock in front of our doors, and the only people allowed in the halls are Security, who have to track down the source of the Creep growth and do whatever it takes to get rid of it. Most of the time that means flamethrowers, but I heard guns that day. Lots of them. I don’t know how firing bullets at the Creep helps, but there’s nothing else they could have been firing at.

I hope.

Worst part is that lockdown went all night and kept going until noon the next day. I was never able to fall asleep. I just kept staring out of my window, looking at the other towers in the distance and wondering why we can’t get out of here. I’m not sure what’s worse, the flinching I did when the gunfire started or how I got used to it after a few hours. Dad wasn’t able to get home that night, and Mom pretended as if she couldn’t hear anything. She just read a book all night. Yeaaaah, kinda crazy, but I guess I don’t blame her, I mean, that night really sucked. Major. You could hear screaming now and again, and the next day there were a few people missing. I guess they must have been part of Security, too. They’re gone now.

Recording Three

I don’t know. I’m not in a mood for recording today, but that kind of defeats the point of recording in the first place, I guess. This thing is supposed to be for when I’m moody. Now, it’s not like I’m in a bad mood. Actually, things are kinda good right now. Allison found a CD somewhere. It’s got some real wicked crazy dance music on it. Good stuff. You don’t hear a lot of music like that because the music on our computers is… well, let’s call it limited. We network and share everything we find, but still, it’s not like we have a lot of musicians producing new music these days. If you’re hearing it right now, they were probably listening to it whenever the hell many years ago, before we got stuck in here.

Still, like I said, music’s a high-demand kind of thing.

Especially dance music. Now I hate dancing, because I’m terrible at it, but it’s nice to pretend as if I can do it once in a while. So yeah, me and Allison had a dance-off. The thing is, I’ve seen this happen in some of those terribly cheesy movies about besties I’ve watched on Blu-Ray. I didn’t think it was real, but… somehow it felt okay to let off some steam and just… dance. Like an idiot.

God. How typical. I’m too ashamed of my own silliness to even keep recording.

Recording Four

Have I talked much about Floor 3? I don’t think so. Anyway, one of the solar panels on the roof cracked today. We really can’t afford that. This tower doesn’t have the materials to fix solar panels, or at least not enough to fix many of them, so that’s why there are a lot of rules about how to behave when you’re on the rooftop. Danny was goofing around, and he accidentally launched his spade through the air. It’d have been okay if the thing had gone flying over the edge, but instead, it’s like it had a mind of its own because it went straight for that solar panel.

The thing cracked, and you just knew, just knew, how bad the situation was the moment you heard the glass splintering on the ground. Might as well have thrown a kid over the edge by the way we all just… stared. It took Security exactly one minute to get to the roof and haul Danny off. I don’t know when we’ll see him again. I mean, he’ll be back. These things happen. But one of Security’s jobs is to reinforce the rules to you whenever you break them. They make sure you really know how important it is to follow the laws of the Tower. Sounds totally creepy, right? Glad I’ve never had to go in for Reinforcement.

Anyway, Dad showed up on the roof with them. Guy’s funny, you know? Still looks like he’s in his twenties when I know he’s, like closing in on fifty. Those glasses he wears are way too big for his head, and his hair is kinda, I don’t know, uncombed. It works for him, though. Some girls think he’s handsome. Allison’s actually told me she has a crush on him. Yeah. That’s gross.

Well, him and his team scraped up all the pieces. Somehow they’ll figure a way to repair the panel, since that’s pretty much what Floor 3’s all about. Story goes that it was one of the first floors they made safe in the Tower. Makes sense, really. People couldn’t live here if guys like my dad weren’t busy doing stuff for Science and keeping us alive. We’d have no solar panels for power, so, no movies, lights, stuff like that. Not to mention it’d be impossible to maintain the garden. The vegetables we grow up there are from seeds created in the labs. Dad says that once upon a time, vegetables needed a lot more light and rain to stay alive. These vegetables can survive on less, and last longer. That’s cool. We’d have no food without them.

Oh. Allison’s here. I think she brought the dance music again. God.

Recording Five

I freakin’ hate Allison.

Ugh.

No, I don’t. I love her. I hate her, then I love her, or the other way around. One minute we’re just sitting around, laughing it up. The next thing I know, we’re arguing. She just doesn’t get it, you know? She doesn’t get that I’m not okay with living here. Living like this. Not knowing why we’re in this tower. I ask questions, a lot of questions, and she acts like I’m the one with a problem when I’m just being me. Why can’t she get that?

I mean… it’s her fault, right?

Then again, it’s not like I’m rolling deep with a crowd of friends. And when you piss everyone, the problem might not be them so much. Problem might be you.

At least that’s how I feel right now.

But it’s seriously hard standing out for being what you are. And the thing is, I get it. I’m annoying. I get on people’s nerves because I don’t like the answers I get, and not just about the Tower, but, like, life. Both my parents are freakin’ scientists, so of course I want to know the “why” of everything. It’s not as if I want to be a thorn in everyone’s butt.

God.

So she gets here and waves that CD of hers, flashing it while she smiles like a huckster. Before I can slap her hand away, she stuffs it into the radio and starts doing that stupid dance of hers. She does this thing where she kinda points to the sky. Repeatedly, like she’s trying to poke holes in the roof. Allison always follows it up with a fist pump. That doesn’t change today as she switches into her awkward hip thrusts. I’ve said I’m not a dancer, but Allison can make you go blind with her moves.

Still, it’s funny, you know? I can dig it. Kinda. I don’t mind embarrassing myself as long as it’s just her, so I go to my signature move, this sort of walking head bob. Hey, it’s the best I can get done with these stumpy legs of mine, okay? Anyway, the situation… it’s fine. Good, quality embarrassment between friends. If you can’t make a shameful sight in front of your best friend, who else are you going to embarrass yourself in front of?

So we wrap it up after the sweat on our foreheads makes it abundantly apparent we’re not in the sort of shape to be dancing erratically for more than, hm, five minutes. Not that I complain when we switch the CD off. Still, we’re laughing as I collapse into the chair across from her. “Pretty good stuff,” I say as I bury my face in my hands. “Just as long as nobody else sees it.”

“Nah, you know me,” she replies with that almost patented grin of hers. Allison’s always had this freakishly large smile, and it seems to stand out even against her light skin and blonde hair. God, that hair of hers is so straight. Every time I try to do my best to flatten mine, it’s like fighting against a jungle. Anyway, she gestures at the radio. “Hand it over, will ya?”

“Yeah, sure,” I say as I reach back, ejecting the CD and tossing the radio like a weapon.

She lets out this banshee scream as she slaps her hands around it. “Jackie! You know how rare these things are? It’s not like we can just get another one.”

“You’ve already backed it up to the network, haven’t you?” I ask, nodding to the computer.

“Of course, I have, but that’s not the point. These things are one of a kind. Not like the Scavengers find these every day.”

“Yeah, seems like the farther down the Tower they go, the less we see of this stuff.”

She shrugs. “Hey, they’ve been bringing back a lot more food lately. Not going to complain about that.”

“Guess you’re right,” I reply. “I’m kinda looking forward to this next Scavenging.”

“Aren’t we all? I mean, I’m already getting my banners ready. Oh, that reminds me, I need you to come by to help me glue the letters to it. I managed to trade some makeup for glitter the other day. That’s going to make for an awesome sign to hang in the hallway.”

I wave her off. “Yeah, yeah, you know I’m gonna be there. Dork.” She seems oblivious to my point, though. “Anyway, about looking forward to this Scavenging… It just seems like they’re having to go a lot deeper into the Tower than they used to, you know? I’m just, I dunno, interested in seeing if they find anything. Anything not food, I mean. Something important.”

“Jackie, are you seriously still on about this?”

I look at her with a ferociously perturbed glare as I hold my palms up. “What am I on, Allison? I’m just saying.”

“I know, Jackie, I know, the problem is you’re always saying the same thing, and you know what can happen if you get too nosy. I mean, do you really want to end up going to Reinforcement?”

“For what? Asking questions?”

“Well… ?” She shrugs and nods like I should know the answer. “Jackie, there’s nothing below. This is all we have, and we live pretty good here.”

“I’m sorry, did I imagine it, or weren’t we just talking about having to decide between food and watching a movie, like that’s a decision that should be normal? Allison, the poor people in the movies we watch have more going for them than we do.”

“But that’s fantasy, and you’re only hurting yourself by focusing so much on them.”

So I’m just all sorts of righteously pissed off because I’m used to hearing this stuff from everyone, but Allison’s supposed to have my back. “Fine. Whatever. Guess I won’t bother thinking about having a life even slightly better than this miserable crapsack we live in.”

“Aren’t you being dramatic?”

I stab her with my eyes. “What did you say?”

“Jackie, I just mean there’s no point in trying to get below Floor 21.”

“Since when did I say that? I’m not asking to go there; I’m just saying I think we can do a little better than just sitting around waiting for the Creep to come get us. All I want to do is ask a few questions without having to worry about getting hauled off by Security.”

Her eyebrows raise like warning flags. “Yeah, well, Jackie, your behavior could end up getting everyone “hauled off,” so maybe you should think about toning it down. You’re at an eleven, and I need you to bring it down to an eight.”

“I can’t deal with this,” I say as I get out of the chair. “Dance party over.”

“Calm down now.”

“Hey, I’m calm, got it?” I ask as I lean my head toward the door. “Maybe I just want to take a nap.”

“Fine,” she replies as she darts past me, the floor clicking underneath her as she steps into the hall. “Call me when you feel like being a grown-up about this.”

“Are you freakin’ kidding me?” I demand as the door closes behind her. Immediately I turn around and go limp, my body collapsing like a bundle of wet towels into the couch. My utterly exasperated scream is muffled by the mountain of pillows I’ve burrowed into. Thank God! Wouldn’t want Mom’s crazy coming in here to pile on top of Allison’s.

Anyway, a few hours later, I’ve calmed down, but I still haven’t forgiven Allison. Oh no. That’s going to have to wait until I’ve had time to head to the baseball field to hit a few balls around. And probably break a bat.

Recording Six

Can I just state, for the record, that Mrs. Bloom has no frickin’ idea about what happened before the Before? I’d rather someone just tell me they don’t know something instead of pretending like they do.

That’s the thing, though. Everyone in the Tower acts like they know something about the world before the Darkness. Mr. McCauley at least comes up with stuff nobody else does, but Mrs. Bloom tried to convince me today that we had flying cars and cities above the clouds. I’ve seen movies, Mrs. Bloom. Whatever happened before the Before, we didn’t have any of those. Cars? Sure. Plenty of those. Trains? Okay, I’ve seen those. But cities that fly in the sky? Give me a break.

Someone was filming a long time ago—that’s why we have these movies in the first place—and none of the movies have flying cities.

Anyway, I got really frustrated with that conversation, but I get really frustrated with everyone these days. As if yesterday’s argument with Allison isn’t example numero uno about that, I’ve got some people lying to me about what happened before the Tower and others that don’t care.

And did I mention that Tommy tried to ask me out? I nearly decked him across the face. He knows I think he’s a tool bag and way too much of a jockstrap for me to ever be interested in. I just don’t get it. Tommy’s asking me out, and Allison’s picking fights with me. Like what the hell, life?

Recording Seven

About yesterday. I mean, what’s his idea of a date, anyway? He doesn’t like to read. All he does all day is work out in the gym on Floor 9, and every other word out of his mouth is wrestling, basketball, boxing, blah blah blah.

Don’t get me wrong; I like those, too. Not that I’m great at all of them, but I’m in shape, you know? Got a little muscle. Kinda. I can outwrestle half the guys I know and shoot a basketball like a sniper. And don’t get me started on baseball. I don’t miss with a bat.

That’s not the point anyway. My point is that a date for Tommy means working out, playing video games, and… I dunno, kissing. I mean, that’s what you’re usually supposed to do to end a date, right? Nothing wrong with any of that, but it’s not exactly everything I want in what I’d consider a fulfilling relationship. At the top of my list, I’d probably be looking for someone I could talk to, most likely because thinking about what’s below Floor 21 makes my head want to crack open. So Tommy’s a no-go from the start since his vocabulary’s as big as sports and more sports.

Urrrrrgh. Why is this bothering me so much today? Maybe because Tommy just really rubs me the wrong way. Maybe because I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life. It’s not like there are a ton of other boys to date, at least not this high up the Tower, and Mom and Dad would never let me date someone from beneath Floor 11.

I mean, how would that even work? People from the lower floors aren’t allowed up here, I mean, unless they’re working. Safety reasons, they say. I get it. It’s not fair, but I get it. Someone from deep in the Tower could be really crazy from the Creep. They might even have some sort of infection or something. Can that really happen? I’ve never seen it, but I’ve heard it can happen. Maybe. I dunno. People say lots of things about how it all works.

When I think about the details, I figure it really must suck living on the lower floors. People from higher up can go down there, even if they rarely do. I mean, why would they want to? On the other hand, people from the lower floors can’t go above Floor 12, since there’s a Security checkpoint that makes sure everyone heading to the higher floors has the right identification.

Oh yeah, identification. I get pretty tired of having to wear this thing around my neck all day. I mean, it’s not a huge pain, but it’s just not my style. It’s this glowing electronic card that makes me feel like I’m going to a horribly thought-up dance party. Security guys have these scanners they use on it whenever you’re on your way up the stairs. You either get cleared to go up the stairwell, or you get turned around. If you make a scene, then you get taken in for Reinforcement.

At this point I’m pretty much dodging the situation that happened today. Basically I talked to Allison. God, that was freakishly uncomfortable. I don’t exactly come across as the Queen of Feels, so it’s not as if I’m having regular heart-to-hearts, even with her. Once in a while, though, you’ve got to open up the old love chest and tell someone how you feel. As terribly, incredibly painful and awkward as that might be.

Anyway, I look at her as she heads my way, the hall framing her like a menacing portrait. Her aggressive footsteps make me seize up, and I just kinda go limp there, staring at her as she gets closer. Every second she’s getting larger and larger, like a storm you see rushing from the horizon. At that point I have a choice: let her walk by or say something.

I might as well be a ghost since she passes by like she can’t see me. Then her footsteps are fading. Dammit, Allison, couldn’t you have been the one to crack?

“Allison!” I shout, turning around as she does the same. We stand there looking at each other. It’s like two armies that have a cease-fire but could still start shooting at any second.

“Jackie,” she says, nodding her head. “Nice to see you.”

“Yeah, uh, hey. Nice to see you, too.”

“Is there something you wanted?”

I’m not going to apologize to her. “Look, I’m sorry, Allison.” Dammit.

She bows her head and takes a few steps my way. Then she takes a few more steps, and she’s close. Uncomfortably close. I’m not really a hugs and chocolates kind of girl. Well, rarely.

“I’m sorry, too,” she says, but she says it quietly. Then her voice goes low, like the storm’s suddenly passed. “You know I just don’t want to get into trouble with Security, right?”

“I get it, Allison. But, and I know this is going to bother you, I need to ask questions. That’s kinda my thing. I’ll try not to be too loud about it though, aaaand I promise I’ll be, you know, sensitive when you’re having a freak-out.”

She smiles as she stands up straight again. “I really was kind of freaking out, wasn’t I?”

“Kind of? I might as well have been in Reinforcement.”

“Don’t kid now,” she says, raising a finger. Still, she’s smiling, and that’s a good thing. “Okay, Jackie. I promise to try and understand your perspective, too. I mean, I don’t…” Her eyes roll up, like the answers are in heaven. “I don’t get why you have this need. It feels like it’ll just make trouble. But we’re not the same. And that’s okay. Maybe that’s just the way it is.”

“You got to know, though, Allison. All I want to know is how we got here. That’s why I ask about the past. We can’t know what we’re doing here unless we know something about what forced us here in the first place. Someone has to remember.”

“I know, Jackie.” She squeezes my shoulder, and I restrain myself from flinching. The feels, man. “Just know I’ve got your back. I don’t necessarily want to, because all I want to know is that food’s going to be there every Sevenths Day. But if it’s important to you, I’ll listen. I’ll support you.”

“Thanks, chief. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t call me chief,” she says with a wink. “Anyway, I have work shift on the rooftop today. Ever since Danny was taken out by Security, we’ve been lagging.”

“Gotcha,” I say, snapping my fingers her way. “Sucks being one person down.”

“Right. Well, good talk. I’ll see you soon?”

“You got it, chief,” I say with a wink, twirling away and sighing. Thank God that’s over with. I mean, I’m glad we’re back on good terms, but I just wish there was a way to skip the emotional thickness. That’s a coat that doesn’t wash off easy.

Did I mention that Danny won’t be back for another week? Damn. That’s a lot of Reinforcement.

Recording Eight

“And on Sevenths Day, the Tower rests.”

God. I get so tired of hearing that, and it has to be said at least once a week. See, every seventh day is food day, the day that everyone gets to have off from work. Well, everyone except Security. We kind of need those guys, but they still get most Sevenths Days off. They have a rotation so that that they only work one Sevenths Day each month.

So even though I hate the public announcement since it wakes me up when I’m trying to sleep in late, I do like the grub. We get our weekly supply of food delivered to our door in crates, and the only thing we have to do is unpack it, store it, and set the crates back out. I’m lucky. Living on Floor 4, we get a little more food delivered than everyone else. I think that has to do with the type of work my dad does. He’s really in demand as a scientist, so we get extra rations. We also get other stuff, too. Sugar for one thing, and salt. Man, you can’t have good soup without some salt. I feel bad for everyone that doesn’t get any, which is pretty much most people in the Tower.

Although I was thinking about this today, too. My family gets a decent amount of food. Allison’s told me she doesn’t get as much, and she definitely doesn’t get nearly as much salt. You can’t grow salt, after all. We get that from the Scavengers, who have to bring it back from… well, from wherever they go when they go on the Scavenging. The lower floors, I guess.

But so, think about this. I get this much food because I live on Floor 3. That probably mean the people living on Floor 1 get even more. I know for sure Allison gets less food, since she’s told me that before. She lives on Floor 6. I’m guessing they do it this way since there’s only so much food from the gardens to go around. Well, I got to thinking. What happens when you get to Floor 11? I guess they get even less food. So, what happens on Floor 12? Floor 15? I know people live down there. How much are those guys getting to eat each week? It can’t be much, and they can’t come up here for more.

So, what are they eating, and where are they getting their food from? The Tower Authority? I can’t see how. Just about everything that comes out of the garden gets eaten by the upper levels. Look, I work those veggies like everyone else. I’ve got calluses as big as quarters to prove it. I know we’re not getting enough to feed everyone past, like, maybe Floor 15. If that.

If you’re wondering why I’m thinking about this, well, of course I am. My brain’s an overactive addict hooked on info, plus just the fact that we have to go to second floor is a reminder. Don’t forget that on Sevenths Day, we have to go to Reception, which—it’s not like I hate Reception. It’s actually kind of fun, afterward. You get to hang with the other kids and just chill for a while, plus it’s the only time when the top floors all get together at once. I’m not just talking about kids my age. I mean everyone. Parents, old people, just about anyone you’ve ever seen in your part of the Tower. So we have to go and sit, and listen to Receiver Garry talk for an hour.

What I’ve never liked is the Reception Hall. There’s a lot of really creepy stuff they’ve got pinned on the walls, the sort of stuff you don’t see anywhere else in the Tower. There’s this one thing in particular, a wooden carving of a man hung on a cross. Well, maybe that’s not the right word to describe it. I mean, he’s literally bleeding out of his hands and feet, so he’s got some major issues going on. What the heck is that supposed to be? It’s pinned up there, looking down on us like he’s about to bleed all over our heads, and nobody can even tell me why. Nobody can remember why it was put there in the first place. Then you’ve got this other stuff hanging around, like this six-pointed star and a few rugs laid out on the floor. Also, there’s a book on the back table written in some squiggly language I can’t read. Oh, but there is one statue I do like. It’s this big, fat guy that’s laughing. He’s got, like, his whole belly out there for the world to see. You rock it, fat man. I don’t know who you are, but you shake that belly.

Anyway, when we get together in Reception Hall, it’s so tight our shoulders are almost overlapping. It reminds me of what happens when I try to pack my suitcase to sleep overnight at Allison’s. The thing that makes the entire situation so irritatingly terrible is that Receiver Garry will go on and on and on about how we need to work together to stay happy and alive here in the Tower. He’s also real fond of reminding us why we should keep our thoughts on the skies instead of worrying about the Darkness or why we’re here. Don’t ask questions, don’t doubt, have faith. Yup, that’s Garry, which pretty much makes him my nemesis. Still, I get where he’s coming from.

See, there’s this story. It’s not told each Sevenths Day, but every now and again, we’re reminded of it. It’s really important, apparently. Story goes that the Darkness came to the Tower. When the Darkness came, so did the Creep. Nobody’s sure why, but the way Receiver Garry tells it, the Darkness was a punishment. I don’t know why we were punished and neither does he, but apparently there used to be a lot more of us people and a lot less Darkness. He says we did… something, and whatever it was brought the Darkness. And according to him, the shadows you see when you touch the Creep are the souls of people the Darkness punished. They’re trapped inside it. Forever. So, it’s a sin to think about going to the lower levels. Never mind trying. That’s like saying you want to go back to the things that got us punished in the first place. Instead, Receiver Garry says it’s important to look to the skies. Even though the skies are basically dark and cloudy forever, he says they’ll open up one day. Some of us, people, I mean, were taken out of the Darkness. I don’t mean they came into the Tower. I mean they went elsewhere, above the clouds. Saved from all of this, I guess. Meanwhile, the rest of us were left here. So who took them? How’d they get up there? Kinda reminds me of what Mrs. Bloom said about flying cities.

Some story, but I still don’t know what any of it has to do with that creepy statue in Reception Hall. Anyway, I got to go. I mean, I should spend time with my dad or something. Thing is that as weird as Mom is, sometimes I feel like I’d rather hang around her. Actually I’d rather just spend some time with Allison, and that’s saying something considering our recent argument, but I can’t just, like, avoid my parents. And about Dad, the thing is that even if Mom’s crazy, at least I get that. People go nuts sometimes. Life happens, right? Dad, though… Dad’s something else. With him I feel like he just… vanished. Like those patches of sunlight we get once in a while that vanish when the clouds converge on them. Yeah, that’s Dad. After thirteen, he just stopped being the guy I knew. I remember playing games of baseball with him. He’d make a whole day of it, actually. He’d save up our meat rations, and then one Monday, he’d just surprise me. I’d wake up to the smell of meat patties served on buttered bread buns. Do you know how much he probably traded away to get his hands on those ingredients?

But you know what he does these days?

Nada.

My memories don’t match the current version of the soulless robot I currently call Father that I live with, and sometimes I just stare at him like who are you? Our talks don’t go past “how was your day?” and anytime I try to get him interested in my questions about the Tower, he brushes me off like I’m the village idiot. Let’s not pretend as if he cares about telling me what he does at work. How’s a girl supposed to relate when her dad treats her like a stranger on an elevator?

The part that just gets me is the fact that it’s been years since he started acting like this. I should be over it by now. But you know what? I keep hoping that one day, he’ll come into my room with a hamburger in his hand, pick up the baseball bat that I keep in my room, and tell me to get ready to hit the field.

It never happens.

I want to kill hope, but it hasn’t happened yet. Been at it for a few years. Maybe one day I’ll succeed. Until then… well, I need to hang with him. He’s going to be gone for a while ‘’cause he’s prepping weapons for a big operation in the Deep Creep. Yeah, I can’t believe it’s that time of the year again. Time seems to be really racing by me the older I get.

So, yeah, I’ll probably be busy for a while. Next week is the Scavenging.

Recording Nine

“Good luck out there,” I tell him. He just smiles back at me before he walks off. For a second I feel weak, like my legs are two jelly sticks. It’s not ’cause I have a crush on him or anything. Seriously, it’s not. He’s just… cool, you know? Not just him, I mean. All of them.

Scavengers.

Right, it’s been a while since I recorded. At least a week. A little more, actually, but who’s counting? I’m the only one. Anyway, the guy’s name is Mike. Just plain, ordinary Mike. Nothing fancy. Not a William or Maxwell. Just one word.

Mike.

Okay, so I do like Mike a little more than the rest of them. Sue me! I’ve known the guy for about five years now. Since I was twelve, can you believe that? Dang, life likes to just jump past you. But yeah, Mike. He actually saved my butt once, when I was down on Floor 14. That’s actually when we started for reals talking. I mean, I was only twelve then, so it’s not like he had any reason to chat me up. The difference between a twelve- and a sixteen-year-old’s as big as the space between towers. Anyway, back then I was doing my normal thing, you know? Chilling in the lower halls and exploring the Tower. It was one of the first times I’d ever touched the Creep, and let me say, one of the few times I tried to. I mean, it’s not something you want to make a habit of. Anyway, turns out Mike was down there, too, and that wasn’t coincidence. Cool thing about Mike—the reason I keep trying to talk to him is he’s curious. Unlike a lot of other people I know, he actually wants to know what’s going in the Tower. I mean, c’mon, that explains why he’s a Scavenger now. So turns out he saw me heading below and decided to follow. ’Course he decided to be slick about it and not tell me, probably because he was embarrassed that I had more courage to get myself into trouble than he did. See, even at twelve, I was what you’d call a problem child. No wonder my mother started getting gray hair early. You can actually see it in her kinky curls now.

Well, so, there I am. Floor 14. You start to really see signs of the Creep by that point. It doesn’t cover the walls, but it does kinda come pushing out of the cracks and seams between the floorboards. If it’s creeping out of a seam above you, sometimes it drips this… I don’t know what to call it. Let’s call it moisture. It’s not water. You could call it saliva, but… ugh, no. Anyway, it drips this moist, clear liquid. Now, the liquid won’t make you hallucinate. It will make your skin tingle, and right after, you’ll start feeling your heart’s trying to stage a prison breakout. But, so, I’m staring at this stuff dripping down the walls, and I dunno, decide I should touch it. So I don’t just grab for the moisture. No, that’d be for cowards. Instead, I decide to yank a big freakin’ palmful of the Creep.

Note to anyone that might ever listen to this: Never grab a handful of the Creep. That stuff will mess… you… up. I was tripping balls. I don’t know what other way to put it, because I was literally falling over myself, seeing shadow things everywhere. I was about to scream, but Mike got to me first. Good thing, too. See, Security’s not what you would call “peaches” with people when they start wandering down to the lower floors. They really don’t want you touching the Creep, but they know it’s going to happen anyway. It’s a public secret. Actually, I hear there’s a bunch of people that meet on the lower levels just to touch the stuff and freak out to hallucinations. Security doesn’t care as long as you keep it under control, but—and this is the super-key part—you have to keep it secret. Well, screaming doesn’t help you stay low-key, so I’m pretty sure I would have landed in Reinforcement. Thank God for Mike. Poor guy practically had to tackle me to keep me from running off through the halls and screaming like a maniac. Cool guy—Mike also had to put up with me trying to bite his fingers off while he tried to keep my mouth shut, which basically passes the friendship test. See, it’s the mark of someone you want to keep around. Will they or won’t they risk their fingers for you? So even back then, he was a tough one, old Mike.

That’s a real long story just to tell you why I like Mike more than the rest of the Scavengers, and the point is that one of the reasons he even became one is because he was a lot like me. I always appreciated his help, but I think the biggest surprise was that he stuck around after my shenanigans. See, Mike’s what you’d call a “cool guy.” He’s basically got the opposite of what I do. Jackie? She sends people running like a Creep infestation. Mike? Slick, handsome dude who kicks ass at sports and can jam out on a guitar. That’s, like, the double whammy. He can impress both the sports chicks and the feels chicks.

See, what he doesn’t get credit for is his brain. Guy’s smart and super-curious. He can just keep it under wraps better than I can. Now here’s the deal. I think the fact that I can’t keep it in is why he stuck around. Or at least it’s why he didn’t ignore me. He’d come around once in a while to see how I was, and then he’d sneak in these questions about any new places I’d traveled. That was just how he did things. He’d come around asking about parts of the Tower I’d explored, since he knew I was basically the only one who had the brass to piss off Security. Thing is, you can really only do that so many times before you start, you know, talking. About stuff. And that’s how me and Mike ended up spending a day a week talking about said stuff. But I mean, you know, what do you say to someone that cool when you’re young? I tried, though, and hey, let’s give the man some credit—Mike stuck around. One day he even came by just to see how I was doing. No questions about the Creep or the Tower. He just started talking to me like a normal dude last year.

When I turned sixteen. Hm.

Creeper.

I’m kidding about that.

What was I talking about? Yeah, yeah, I know what you’re saying, that I lose track of what I’m talking about when it comes to Mike. Maybe I do crush on him a bit. Who cares, right? Whatever. Anyway, he’s a Scavenger now, so, of course, I went out to say good-bye to him. That stuff’s dangerous work.

The Scavenging happens every three months. Technically, we’re all supposed to say good-bye to the people from our floors chosen to be Scavengers, but nobody from Floor 1 or Floor 4 gets picked for it. It’s everyone beneath that gets selected, and you can’t say no when you’re chosen to be a Scavenger. That’s like saying you want your family to die. We depend on the Scavengers to go into the lower parts of the Tower to get new supplies, which could mean lightbulbs or scrap metal, or even things like salt and sugar. There are two things that people want from Scavengers more than anything else, though.

The first should be obvious: food. We live on a diet of some pretty pathetic vegetables. Most of the time, we get more of the same from our Scavengers. Vegetables. Which, I mean, you can’t complain. You need them to live. Duh. Other times we get brought meat. Now, I don’t know where this meat comes from or what gets killed to have it, but once in a while, we get delivered straight-up steaks. What the heck, right? Where do they even find this stuff? Well, they do, and that’s all most people care about. Rarely, and I’m talking, like, super-rare, the Scavengers bring back candy.

I can’t even tell you how unheard-of that sugar is. You might as well give the kids drugs, especially the young ones. They gobble sugar up. Why do you think everyone looks forward to birthdays? It’s one of the few times you get to eat something with sugar in it. Well, once in a while, one of the Scavengers will come back with a haul of candy. They might be chocolate bars or rainbow-colored orbs, but they’re always delicious. Now, remember, we can’t just go grabbing this stuff. The candy still gets taken up to Floor 1 first, so it can be distributed later. Still, makes your day when your food crate arrives at the beginning of the week and you’ve got a candy bar inside as a surprise. Me and Mom share them sometimes, watching the clouds outside the window while we munch on chocolate. Not like we say much to each other, which is preferable, but it’s nice to spend some time with her that doesn’t involve her crying for hours. So, yeah, I kinda like chocolate for reasons beyond the sugar jitters. Those are probably the best days I have with Mom. I just wish they happened more often ’cause, you know, at least then I’d feel a little more comfortable talking to her. At least I’d like to imagine someday where she surprises me with candy and has a conversation that doesn’t involve a double dose of crazy. It sucks ’cause I know she loves me, I mean, she’s always excited when my birthday comes around or holidays. It’s just the large stretch of time that we call normal weeks and months that is hard.

Anyway, like I was saying, obviously everyone wants food, but there’s actually one thing they want more than that. Want to take a guess? That’s right. Information. Nobody knows how far down the Tower goes, where it ends, or how we got up here in the first place. So, yeah, of course, it’s nice to get a clue. Once in a while, the Scavengers bring up new movies, but those only tell us so much. A movie will kind of tell you what the world was like once, but it doesn’t say anything about how we got here.

Not that it really matters. We all know when the Scavengers find something that’s actually important, and we all know that we’re never going to see it.

That… probably deserves an explanation. A Scavenging wraps up based on a couple of things. Obviously, if the team loses a lot of Scavengers, they have to come back up, along with the supplies they were able to get. If I understand right, the floors just below Floor 21 have been picked dry. No food, no movies, nothing. So, Scavengers have had to go farther and farther down over the years, but the farther down they go, the more dangerous it gets. Why? Well, now, that’s a good question, isn’t it? I ask myself that all the time. Do the hallucinations get so bad that they, like, make the Scavengers go total nutjob?

I dunno, but not all the people that go down make it back up. Facts is facts, Jack. Anyway, the other reason why a team might come back early is because of supplies. Scavengers have to eat food and drink water like anybody else, so they can’t just stay gone forever. When their food supplies are up, it’s time to wave them on home.

There’s a time limit on each Scavenging, though. About… two weeks, I think. A team has to be back within two weeks so they can drop off whatever they’ve found. That stuff has to get sorted and sent out to people like me, after all. God knows I can’t live without my latest Blu-Ray movie. Lives are worth risking for movies and candy, am I right?

Again, I’m kidding.

When the Scavengers leave and when they come back, we’re all expected to line up in the halls to cheer on whoever’s representing our floor. Since mine doesn’t send anybody on the Scavenging, I usually line up with Allison on Floor 8. She might not live there, but Mike does, and I swear to God if she ever makes me go see him off alone, I’m going to kick her in the kneecap.

Nah, joking. We’re besties.

Don’t judge me.

Anyway, going to Floor 8 is, like, double my pleasure. I get a chance to hang with Allison and say good-bye to Mike at the same time. Now, whenever the Scavengers get back, we always have this, like, triumphant music that plays from the speaker system. Yeah, the same speaker system that wakes me up on Sevenths Days. I’ve seen Mike come back from a Scavenging almost every three months since I was fourteen and he was eighteen. Eighteen, by the way, is when your career is chosen for you. I don’t want to think about next year. They’ll probably stick me in a boring job just ’cause my dad’s a scientist.

Whatever. Here’s my point. The reason I say I’ve seen him come back “almost” every three months is because, once in a while, the Scavengers find something. We don’t exactly know what, but we know that it’s important. The triumphant music is canceled, the Scavengers skip on the march through the halls, and Security takes them straight up to Floor 1. Nobody sees them the rest of the day, normally not until it’s time for bed. Sometimes you don’t even see them until two or three days later. The only reason any of us know that it’s because the Scavengers found something important is because… well, we just know. Everybody knows; it’s not a secret. I don’t really have any proof, but Allison’s said that her dad—remember, he’s in Security—her dad sometimes mentions when the Scavengers come up with something rare, something the bigwigs running things from Floor 1 have to know about. Not the rest of the Tower, mind you. We get left out of the loop. That information’s just for the big guys.

Psh. What is this, a dictatorship?

Well. Yeah. Kinda.

Recording Ten

Almost been two weeks. I guess the Scavenging’s going well. Couldn’t really tell you either way, since we don’t get updates. But you know what we do get? Announcements. Every few months when this is going on, we wake up to the speaker saying, “Day one of the Scavenging has begun,” and then each night we hear, “Day one of the Scavenging has ended.” Well, I mean, obviously the day count changes each day. You’re not dumb.

Who am I recording this for again?

So, uh, Danny’s back.

I say that in the loosest of terms.

I don’t know what goes on in Reinforcement exactly, and the people that come out of it don’t talk about it. One of the rules of the Tower is that you don’t talk about what happens in Reinforcement. So, like, since the whole point of the process is to make sure you obey the rules, of course, nobody knows what goes on during reinforcing! I swear to God everything in this tower is off-limits or a secret. What’s on Floor 1? The Tower Authority. Has anybody ever seen them? Nope. What’s below Floor 21? Nobody knows but the Scavengers, and they’re not saying. All they’ll tell you is that it’s full of abandoned apartments and Creep. Not even Mike will say what else is down there.

About Danny. Yeah. Whoever I knew before… that guy’s gone. This new Danny’s a lot quieter. Less goofy most def. I mean, old Danny could be a toolbox once in a while, but at least he was funny. He made it easier to pass time when we were working the gardens up on the rooftop. This new Danny, though? Well, let me just say he works reaaaaal hard. Like, that’s all he wants to do. Single-minded, focused on the task. Yeah, a real toolshed. Old Danny might waste your time, but you didn’t feel like he was. Now I feel like I’m pulling teeth just trying to get him to laugh at my jokes.

I decided to ask Dad what it is they do in Reinforcement, but because he’s decided becoming a mute is preferable to talking to me, he wasn’t really saying much. Don’t even know why I bothered wasting my time.

So I’m staring at a picture of us from when I was young. We’re both in uniform, and I’m barely, like, half his height. Guess I was eight in this picture. We’ve both got our bats slung over our backs, and he’s got his arm around my shoulder. Mom took the picture with an old instant-print camera Dad traded for when he found out she was pregnant. Must have been at a time he thought having a kid was a good thing. If I remember right, he had to work double duty in the labs, plus I think he gave up one of the televisions he owned. What I do remember is that this was one of our Mondays together. After we got done with our morning swings, he took me to the roof. Mom’d always been the family gardener, but Dad was no slouch, so they used the rest of the afternoon to teach me about gardening. Mom talked about how you should plant different vegetables through the year, and Dad taught me about how the rain was filtered so they could use it to water the gardens.

Know what I realized that day? Gardening sucks.

But… I’d still rather have that day back than deal with ones like today. Dad came through the door and waved as he went into the kitchen. Really, I wasn’t sure whether to bother him or not, so I just kinda shuffled through the living room. He sees me coming and pops back out with a bottle of water.

“Hey, kid,” he said with that smile that’s just become so… intimately unnerving. “What’s new?”

“Oh, you know, the usual. Arguing with Allison. Breaking ankles on the basketball court. Being my all-around awesome self.”

“Well, you were always good at that,” he says as he drops into a chair. He’s already going into ignore mode. I can tell because he’s picking up a tablet to do some reading, which is his go-to move for telling me and Mom that he’s not paying attention. Or at least, not paying much. “So, what’ve you got planned for today? Any school?”

“Nah, already went earlier.” His eyes are already off me and on his screen. I’m left standing there for a second like a piece of mediocre artwork, like I’m not even worth paying attention to. “Uh, so, hey, I was wondering if I could ask you something.”

“Is that so?” he asks, not even taking his eyes off of the screen. “What’s that?”

“Well, Danny’s back. From Reinforcement.”

See, I know he’s paying attention because he flinches a bit when I say it. “Good for him, champ. I guess they were able to straighten out any of the confusion he had about the Tower rules.”

“That’s the thing. He’s acting… weird. Like he’s not really Danny. He used to be a real piece of win, and now I don’t even recognize him.”

“Isn’t that the point, Jacko? People are supposed to change after Reinforcement. It helps them obey the rules better.”

“Yeah, well, this is about a little more than rules.” I grab one of the small pillows off the couch and toss it in front of his tablet, but it doesn’t take him more than a second to slide it to the floor and get back to reading. “Look, all I want to know is if you know anything about what happens up there. You’re all Mr. Mad Science, after all. I figured you’d be able to tell me something about why he’s acting like they messed with his brain.”

“Jackie, all Reinforcement does is reinforce the rules. It’s no different from the classes you go to. Besides, you don’t need to know anything about Reinforcement. Best not to ask questions about it, right? Don’t want to have Tower Authority getting curious about why you don’t trust them.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Jackie.” His eyes shoot up to me. “Why don’t you go listen to some music or something? It’s not good to ask too many questions.”

I can’t keep my jaw from slinging open at this. “Seriously? Am I making up all the memories I have of you taking me to the lab and telling me that to be a good scientist you had to be curious?”

“About some things, Jackie. Other times we just have to trust.”

That’s the end of conversation as far as he’s concerned, and his eyes fall back onto the tablet. My eyelid is twitching. How does an eyelid start twitching? Finally it’s totally apparent I can’t deal anymore, so I flip around and stomp as hard as I can back into my room. I hope he can hear how angry I am, not that I’m sure he cares. Whatevs. I don’t need my dad to be my therapist. That’s what I’ve got this recorder for. ’Cause at least it pays attention to me.

Wow. Pretty sad.

Though, seriously, Reinforcement just reteaches the rules? As if putting a guy through a class makes him turn out like Danny did. It was just Dad blowing me off again. Still, I’m willing to bet that the “lessons” happen on Floor 1, since that’s where all the supersecret stuff goes down. I just don’t know what room, when, or any serious details about the process. Because in the Tower you’re not supposed to know anything important about anything, apparently.

Recording Eleven

It rained today. Thank God for the plastic they use for the sides of the greenhouse, or we’d be boned. The solar panels don’t take any damage, but fresh rainwater is toxic. I’m not talking Creep toxic. I mean, it’ll make you sick and possibly kill you. You’re not supposed to be on the rooftop when it rains, and if it weren’t for the tarp we use to cover the veggies, our garden would be dead. Rainwater isn’t exactly good for plants, or at least not au naturel. That stuff has to get cleaned before we use it to water the garden.

I hate the rain. It’s all black and thick, more like oil half the time. You get to see it pooled up when a storm’s over and you head back up to the rooftop, but nobody’s supposed to deal with it. Not us, anyway. That’s a job for Cleanup. Those guys have it the worst. At least the life of a Scavenger is exciting. Cleanup guys just… well, they do what they’re called: cleanup. Bunch of charred Creep that Security’s gotten done frying? Call Cleanup to wipe up the mess. Did someone lose their lunch while playing too hard in the gymnasium? Cleanup gets to mop it away. That should basically tell you the story of what they do after it rains. It’s Cleanup’s job to get that stuff soaked up. It’s a real hazard for the workers, too, ’cause you never know when you might put a foot in it.

It’s not that hard to imagine it happening. I wasn’t there for this, but there’s a story that one of the kids once stepped ankle-deep into the stuff. It wasn’t his fault; he’d just been trying to stare over the edge of the roof. We all do it. Well, there was a pool of rainwater just sitting there. He didn’t lose his foot, but he wasn’t able to walk straight after that. Seriously, what a mess. That’s why the rain’s more dangerous than the Creep. Creep won’t cripple you or poison you.

I mean, not normally. I still don’t know what happened that one night… on my birthday.

We need the rainwater, though, even if it’s disgusting and poisonous. I know this is a totally groundbreaking revelation, but we kinda need water to live. Now, you shouldn’t go around just drinking the stuff. If it’ll cripple you just by touching it, then who knows what’d happen if you drank it? That’s what the filters are for. The whole roof’s lined with them. Cool thing is, when it rains, a lot of the rooftop floor slides away. Underneath’s where the filters are, and they collect all the rainwater they can get. Afterward they make sure whatever’s deadly in it gets drained out, of course. Don’t ask me how they do it, since Dad’s the only one that could explain, and at this point I’m pretty much done trying to talk to him.

All I know is that without it, I wouldn’t be able to take a shower. God. That would suck. I’m not going to lie; I’m not the most “feminine” smelling of girls without my daily rinse. Doesn’t help that I like to work out a lot. I might not be a jock, but I like to keep in shape. You know?

Mom keeps telling me that the older I get, the easier it’ll be to gain weight. Thanks for giving me another reason to look forward to the future, Mom.

Recording Twelve

I was down in the gym today. If I’m going to be honest, I smell like the bottom of a sweaty sock right now. So why am I recording this?

Psh. Who knows? I’m just one of those girls.

No, I’ll get around to it. I mean, I might as well. I’m here. At home. My empty, empty home.

So, Mom’s gone. Not like she’s never coming back or anything; I just mean that she’s visiting some people down on Floor 6. Thank God. That woman needs more friends, I mean, just to keep her sanity. I’m not even joking when I say that I’m legit happy that she’s out with people. She’s even spending time off of our level! Cue the band and pop the champagne.

But that got me to thinking. Actually it’s been on my mind for a while, if I’m going to be real about it. How did everyone settle on where to live and who was going to run things?

From the top. Floor 1 is Tower Authority. So, although I’ve never been there… well, no, I can’t say much about it. I mean, nobody really knows what goes on there. They give out the food every week and run all the other departments. They’re in charge of Security, Cleanup, Science, Scavenging… basically everyone. They pick your job for you when you turn eighteen. How? Well, some of it’s based on your floor. The higher up you live, the less chance you have of being put in Security, for example. Don’t get me wrong, there are exceptions. I mean, take Allison’s dad. They live on Floor 6, and he’s Security. He just, you know, didn’t have the smarts to be anything else.

God, I hope Allison never hears this recording. She’d tear my hair out for saying that. It’s true, though.

Anyway, beyond that, nobody really knows much about Floor 1. You can’t go in, and nobody in Authority ever comes out. Which sucks for everyone else. I mean, if your job is kinda based on what floor you’re born on but nobody ever leaves Floor 1, then that means the only chance to be in Authority is to be born into it. It’s not like you ever hear of someone from the lower floors getting a job with them. It just doesn’t happen.

That sucks, man.

Well. Whatever.

Floor 2. Really, we only go there for Sevenths Day, but Reception Hall isn’t the only thing that’s on that level. Receiver Garry and others like him live there, so they’ve got apartments. And hey, does anybody think it’s a little messed up that the science department is below them? A bunch of scientists being forced to work beneath Receiver Garry, a man whose sole purpose in life seems to be to discourage questions? Priorities, kids.

Right, so that brings me to Floor 3. I know Dad works there, but Science covers a lot of stuff. What he actually works on is kinda a mystery to me. Technically speaking you can go to Floor 3 anytime you want, but most people don’t. There’s lots—and I’m telling you this as a person that sees tons of Security on the lower floors—there’s lots of Security on Floor 3. They don’t tell you to get out, but they do this creepy stalker thing where they follow you around. Yeeeeahh, I think I’ll skip that, thanks. I get my weekly dose of paranoia from wondering about how we got in this tower. Nobody lives on Floor 3 anyway, basically, since it’s the only place in the entire Tower without any apartments… that should tell you that the place is, like, really important. It’s all science labs, which means locked doors, which means why the heck would I want to visit there anyway?

I mean, besides visiting Dad. Even if I’m just slowly forgetting why I’d even want to do that.

I’m kidding. I love him, but I’m just… super-frustrated today is all. I feel like he’s lying to me even when he’s not saying anything.

Why’d I start talking about this?

Oh, yeah. Sweaty gym time. I got a chance to play basketball with—wait for it—with Tommy today. Say whatever else you want about him, but the guy’s kind of beast mode. He’s superstrong and fast. If he had some smarts, he’d be heading for a job as a Scavenger instead of Security. Oh well, sucks to be Tommy.

Not so bad a guy when you really talk to him, though, which I was mildly surprised to learn today. He’s just super into himself. Whatever, so he comes up to me and says, “Hey, Jackie, did you think about that date?”

“No, Toolshed,” I tell him. He doesn’t take this well and gets a scowl across his face, but he also looks confused at the same time, like he can’t digest the fact that someone’s mocking him. His ego’s too big to let him give up, though, so he asks me, “Well, why not? Are the guys really lining up to take you out? Last I heard, you’d never even been on a date.”

“What’s bigger than a toolshed?” I fire back. “A tool tower? Yeah, that’s it. You’re a tool tower. Tool Tower Tommy.”

“That doesn’t even make any sense,” he says.

“Only because your brain is too small to get it,” I tell him. This gets the usual round of “ooooohs” that kids like to give whenever insults start getting thrown around. You know Tommy’s not going to take that kind of insult and just walk away, though, so he puffs out his chest, you know, like a peacock. At this point his nostrils are getting really big and he’s breathing heavy. He kind of has a horseface going for a second. Then he says, “Whatever, Jackie. You think you’re so tough? Let’s see how tough you really are.”

“What are you going to do, Tommy? Are you seriously going to ask me to fight or something? You want to fight a girl?”

“What do you think I am?” he asks. “I don’t fight girls. I’m a gentleman, not that you’d know. You’re always telling everyone how good you are at sports, though. So let’s see how good.”

He shoots a look over to the wall of the gymnasium, where the basketball hoop is hanging. My face trails his before I laugh. “Are you really asking me what I think you’re asking? Everyone knows I’m a good shooter. Everyone. I’ve got dead shot aim.

“Yeah, Jackie,” he says. “If you’re so good, let’s see you prove it.”

“Fine,” I tell him, walking over to grab a ball. Of course, Toolshed over there has to run and get it before I do, just to show everyone he’s faster than me. What an ass.

I don’t know if I want to really talk about how bad I was compared to Tommy. No, wait, I take it back. I’m definitely a better shooter than Tommy. I’m a better shooter than anyone. Them’s the facts, punkface. Whatever. Point is, anytime I did have the ball, I was pretty much shooting right over Tommy’s head. The problem wasn’t so much that I was having trouble shooting, and more that Tommy’s just really damn fast. And strong.

Since I talk so much trash about him, I might as well give him some credit. I mean, you see how he moves when he’s playing other people, but you just don’t realize how good he is until he’s, you know, grinding his victory into your face. The guy’s quicker than me, he can freaking dunk, and let’s not even get into how many times he snatched the ball out of my hands. Which is a long way of saying I had my butt handed to me.

Anyway, Toolshed gets done proving his point, then has the nerve to ask, “Are you going to go on that date with me now?”

I shrug. “Sure. Whenever we get out of this Tower.”

That pretty much means never, but he was right about the date thing. I’ve never been on one. At seventeen. God that’s depressing.

Totally not the point. The point is, I’m pissed. Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, I lost at basketball. I’m on my way out of the gym when Tommy catches up to me. I’m about ready to deck him across the face, but he throws his hands up. At first I think he’s gonna, like, try and box me or something. But he doesn’t. He just stops in front of me and says, “Hey, Jackie, good game.”

So at this point, I’m totally confused. “Yeah, uh, you too,” I say back.

“Hey, sorry if I got too aggressive in there. It’s just, I don’t know, my thing.”

“Your ‘thing,’ huh?” I ask. “Well, whatever.”

“Hey,” he says, pointing a finger at me, “I did say sorry.”

“Yeah. You want a prize?” I’m still confused at this point, but I finally give in. “Okay, okay, Tommy. We’re cool.”

“Why do you think I’m such a jerk, anyway? What’d I ever do to you?”

“You’re… you’re kidding me, right?” This guy. “Don’t act like you didn’t torment me back when we used to play baseball together. You made my life a living hell, I mean, is it my fault I was the only girl on the team? You didn’t have to make fun of me every day. I can’t help that it took me a few years for my body to grow big enough for my head.”

“You did kind of look like a kid’s doll back then.”

“See what I mean?” I ask as I slap him across the arm. “Then you want to know why I don’t want to go out with you? Maybe if you’d been less busy being a stank face and a little more human, we could have at least been friends.”

“Jackie, how old are we?”

“What?”

He holds up his hands like he’s surrendering. “How old are we?”

“Uh, seventeen. Why?”

“I’m not going to pretend I wasn’t kind of what you like to call a tool bag. But that was almost ten years ago. I was nine. Whatever you remember about me isn’t what I’m about now. I mean, sure, I still like to whomp on people in basketball, and I kind of am the best athlete on the floor.”

“Point conceded, you kind of are.”

“And I’m not going to pretend that’s not true. I’m competitive and cocky, like, all the time. But do I feel bad about what I did back then? Yeah, of course. I was an ass.”

“You got that right. Plus some other choice words I’d use to describe you.”

“Look, forget the date thing. I don’t know what I was thinking. I have a habit of my ego getting in front of the rest of my brain. I’d at least like to shoot for friends, though. The guy you remember was from a long time ago. I’m different. Seriously, I’m not who you remember. I know that’s hard to believe, but people do change once in a while.”

Instinctively I fold my arms in front of me and cock my eyebrow at him like a loading gun. “Friends. You and me? You’re really going to ask me that?”

“Hey, like I said. I follow my ego. But seriously, I want you to know I’m not nine-year-old Tommy. Heck, I’d rather be Tool Tower Tommy than that guy I used to be.”

That gets a smile out of me. “Fine.”

“So, maybe we can hit the gym sometime? I can take you through some of my routine. You know, work on your upper-body strength.”

“Get out of here,” I say. Guy’s a jerk, but it turns out he’s got his own sense of humor. He gives me a smile, and I can’t help but think, People are probably more complicated than I give them credit for. And he’s right about something. What you remember about someone isn’t necessarily what they are today. It’s just hard getting over your past, you know?

Recording Thirteen

Scavengers should be back any day now. It’s not super-unusual for them to be gone an extra day or two, especially if they have a good haul. Hopefully this means we get chocolate. If you want me to be truthful, then I’m kinda excited about them coming back, and no, not just because Mike’s going to be with them. I mean, what, you think my life revolves around him?

Please. Kid’s good, but not that good. No, I’m seriously just, like, hyped. Must be because of how long they’re taking to get back up here. If we’re going to be for real, I actually do like seeing if everyone made it home alive. Sucks to have to join the Scavengers just because you want to move to the upper floors someday, you know? It’s not what you’d call fair that lots of lower-level livers join just for a chance at getting out of the Creep.

Anyway, there’s another reason I like watching them come back. Every floor basically competes with the other floors. It’s one of the ways that the Morale officers keep spirits up. I mean, everyone likes a game, right? So, the rules aren’t exactly what you would call complicated, but they’re good enough to keep us entertained. What happens is you’ve got a Scavenger representing almost every floor. Now, I hate that morning announcement they do, but, I dunno, it does kinda keep you in the spirit of things. So every morning during the Scavenging we play games in the Gymnasium. Floor 5 versus Floor 10, that sort of thing. It’s like a, you know, two-week tournament.

And dang, do the kids go out of their way to make sure it’s a party. They get streamers going, balloons, all sorts of junk. Junk that should probably be used for better stuff, like, oh, who knows, taking care of the Tower. But, whatevs. Right? So, for two weeks it’s like we get a party every morning before finally crowning a winner.

This morning we had the last games. We extended it an extra day ’cause of the whole “Scavengers aren’t back yet” situation. So, this big, purple bruise on my thigh? Yeah, that might be from wrestling. That poor sucker was crying for mommy and I was playing parent. I mean, for real, this guy was knotted up so tight you could have put salt on him and called him a pretzel. I think what I’m trying to say is, I’m pretty good at wrestling.

But, yeah, I put up a few points for Floor 8. I mean, since my floor doesn’t get a representative, I have to rep for another floor, and that gets determined by the Morale officers. My floor, Floor 4, only gets all the rewards if the floor we’re paired with wins, which seems fair. It only sucks when I have to race Allison.

That girl has wind in her shoes or something.

Oh, so there’s this other thing. Can’t forget to mention it, only because it’s the whole point of the Scavenging. Each Scavenger tallies up what they found and how much of it. Everything is assigned points. Now, the scores can’t be added up until the Scavengers have turned it all in, so typically we wait until morning before finding out which Scavenger got the most stuff.

What they found gets assigned points, too, because obviously steak is worth more than carrots. That’s just like… duh.

Point scale. Um, stuff nobody cares about? Cards, paper, lightbulbs? That gets one point. If a Scavenger gets a high score because of crap like this, he’s called Uno because nobody cares about paper. Vegetables? Okay, you need those to eat, but it’s still just vegetables. We spend every freaking week on the rooftop growing those. So, two points. Let’s see. Uh, you’ve got fish and chicken, so those’re five points. We actually debate about this because we give more points for stuff like Blu-Rays than veggies, since there are only so many movies in the world. So, right, six points for anything you can pass time with. Then you start talking about things like technology. Once in a while you’ll have a scavenging team come back with a big load of stuff, like computers. So, eight points there. So what’s at the top of the chain? Any guesses? Of course, it’s food again, because being hungry sucks. That’s nine points for sugar and ten points for steak.

I’m not really sure if this last one I’m gonna say should be on the list, but might as well, right? The items are tallied live, so stuff gets really exciting. I mean, we don’t want our guys dying when they’re down in the Creep, but, I mean, we’re asking them to be risky. How else are they going to get their hands on all the valuable stuff? So, when a scavenging team comes back, all the items are tallied live the next day. You can see a person’s scores rising on your tablets or computer, but if you’re really into the games, then you meet on Floor 9. As many people pack into the gym as possible, but once that gets full, there’s lots of other places to meet. There are lots of big conference rooms used for all sorts of things, so they’re the perfect place for stuffing a bunch of people all at once. Even then, I mean, you can’t have the whole tower meet at once, right? So, of course, Security doesn’t let everyone in. If you’re not there early, you might not be allowed through the doors. Anyway, you get everyone cheering and screaming, people roll out this big whiteboard onto the gym floor, and then they write out the names of all the Scavengers.

We’re not monsters. I mean, we remember to have a minute of silence at the start if a Scavenger doesn’t come back. Mad respect for the dead, you know? Whatever, so, everyone starts to go crazy. As the scores come in, the guys in charge of the event post the scores to the board. They don’t forget to write what type of stuff a Scavenger brought, either, because nobody wants to be called Uno for three months. Sucks, right? Having to live with that until you get another chance in the Creep?

It’s weird. We spend three months looking forward to the Scavenging, two weeks of games while we’re waiting for the Scavengers to come back, and then another day waiting for the tallies. So, what’s the prize? It’s big time. Your floor gets crowned Scavenger’s Hall, you get food bonuses in your boxes, and you get your duty shifts lowered. Pretty freakin’ sweet. Yeah, and then you wonder why I get pissed that Floor 4 doesn’t get to participate.

Uh, I think I was making a point earlier… Oh, that’s right. About the points. I was going to say that since we get tallies of everyone’s score, we know exactly what they’re bringing in. Well, so, the tallies are divided by beef, chicken, fish, candies, paper, you know, all of the things. See, the problem is there’s this other category that rarely gets checked. Like maybe once a year.

It’s just called “other.” Real specific, am I right? Anyway, try and put the pieces together. Why does “other” get marked only after a Scavenging when the teams have to rush up to Floor 1 instead of doing their usual march through the halls? Yeah, that’s right. “Other” means that one of the Scavengers found something real important, something that might be a clue about the Tower and what’s outside. We assume it’s some sort of, like, supersecret technology. The kids call it Sec Tech, but, I mean, who cares? Point is it’s important, and so whoever brings back some Sec Tech gets an automatic two hundred point bonus. I know, right? I’d be trying to get my hands on that stuff every time I went scavenging. That’s a guarantee that you’re going to place in the top three. It makes a difference how well your floor performed during the games, too. Those scores are added to how much a Scavenger hauled in, so your rep can haul in a ton of sweet loot, but you can still lose the competition if your floor does badly in the games. Which is, of course, one major reason I always wish Tommy was on my team. God. We would wreck.

So, yeah, everyone goes nuts at this time of year. It’s awesome. I love it. And Tower Authority is cool about it, for once. Half the Morale officers spend the month leading up to the Scavenging putting flyers in everyone’s mailboxes and reminding them to root for their floor’s Scavenger, or telling people to put up decorations on the wall.

All so that we can be happy about being stuck in this tower.

Recording Fourteen

Word is that the Scavengers’ll be back tonight. Yikes. I’m so hyped.

I was talking to Allison about how it sucks not to have a floor rep. So, hers is this Scavenger named Janet Amato. Talk about a woman, I mean, this chick is, like, seven feet tall and all muscle. Which is sweet and all, but Allison tells me that Janet’s also pretty smart. That’s cool, you know? That’s what I want to be like. But, I mean, I live on Floor 4. There’s no way to become a Scavenger.

Also, Mom and Dad made the point that people born on Floor 4 and higher are meant for other stuff. I mean, I guess. Dad’s in the Science division. Mom is, too; she just does a lot more, like hands-on stuff with the gardens. Is there a word for a scientist that specializes with vegetables and green stuff? Anyway, I know that she also does chemistry. She doesn’t mention it much, but she lets it slip once in a while when she says these really complicated chemical names. I really don’t get how she knows them, but she has to know what they are.

Ugh. About Mom. We had another, well, let’s just call it an “incident.”

I get home from school per the usual, and my mind’s already whacked out from having to study biology all day. It’s not what you’d call fun, since I’m constantly thinking about how it can apply to the Creep. What’s its cell structure like? How does it keep growing? So half the class I’m distracted, and Mrs. Bloom goes off on me about how I need to pay more attention. Like, sure, she might be right, but don’t call me out in front of the class. That’s just tacky.

Anyway, I walk through the door to the apartment, and all the lights are out. Not even the windows are open. At first I think nobody’s home because, I mean, why would you turn out all the lights? Then I hear… something. It’s soft, but I can tell it’s coming from my parents’ room. I sling my backpack to the floor and start to inch along to the door, waiting at the entrance like a thief. My eyes cut into the room, but everything’s dark there, too. Still, I can hear her in there. She’s not quite crying, but… is the word sobbing? She’s sobbing.

“Mom?” I call, pushing the door open a bit so I can see what’s going on. She’s folded up like a pile of laundry on the bed, with a blanket so tight around her it might as well be a shell. “Mom, are you okay? You’re not having a freak-out, are you?”

She doesn’t respond at first. In the darkness the top of her head looks like a bush, her kinky curls spreading out like branches. Mom never liked flattening it, for the same reason I don’t: too many chemicals we don’t have enough of, and too much time. Anyway, it takes her a minute to turn around even slightly, and when she does, she barely whispers, “Jacko?”

“Yeah, Mom, it’s me,” I say as I brave the distance to the bed. “Is it, uh, is it okay if I sit?”

“Of course, sweetheart,” she says as she turns back around, tightening up into her ball. I can’t tell what’s wrong, so I just slide into the space beside her. The bed doesn’t have much support, and years of sleeping in it have left a depression in the mattress from Dad’s body. As tough as things have been the last few years, it scares me to think of life without him. Mom would lose it completely. Can you imagine how hard it would be sleeping in a bed that still has your husband’s shape pressed into it? That’s a memory you can’t forget, and it bothers me being in his imprint.

“So, Mom, was everything okay today?”

“You know it was. Everything’s okay every day.”

“Right. Everything’s always okay. I completely get that, but you’re… crying, you know?”

Her lips turn halfway upward as her eyes roll over to me. “Am I? I must be having an emotional day. Didn’t even notice.”

“Didn’t even notice? Mom…”

“I’ll be okay, Jacko. I just… just need time.”

That’s about the extent of our conversation. What else was I supposed to say? So I just… I just laid there. You know, it’s really painful lying down next to a person that looks like the one that raised you but acts like someone completely different. Mom used to be so happy, especially when me, her, and Dad would head down to the baseball field. She always had my uniform cleaned and ready. Whenever he wasn’t around, she’d take me to the lounge and pop in an educational video. You know, those terrible ones where a cartoon mascot tries to teach you. “Edutainment,” I think they call it. But even if it sucked, Mom acted like she cared.

I mean, she still does, I think. She shows it sometimes, especially around important dates, but lots of the time she… I dunno. A lot of the times she’s like this, or she’s clocked out like she’s barely conscious. I just wish she was… normal. Whatever that means, but I don’t think it’s supposed to be this.

None of that was the point, though, and seriously, talking about Mom makes me depressed. My point was that my parents always told me that because I’m pretty smart, I’m supposed to end up working a smart job, too. The reason why is if you land a low job, like Security or Cleanup, they can move you down a floor. Or several. It doesn’t happen too often, but you hear about it once in a while. Allison’s family would’ve moved down if not for her Mom, ’cause that lady’s a Morale officer. Once in a while, she gives the Reception instead of Receiver Garry. Eh, she’s pretty good at it. Anyway, yeah, if I landed a low job, I’d have to get used to a smaller apartment and less food. So, Science is the department for me.

I do think about scavenging, though. A lot. Like, badly. I want it so hard the little vein over my eyebrow pops when I think about it. But, whatever. People from Floor 4 and higher don’t get to scavenge.

Actually, I take that back. There’s actually one guy that scavenges that was born on Floor 2. So, naturally, you’d think the guy would’ve been a Morale officer, right? Maybe a Receiver? But no, instead, he gets to scavenge, and he gets to keep his apartment on Floor 2. Sweet gig. Guy’s name is Judas Abbott, and as cool as it is that he’s a Scavenger from a high floor, the dude’s a total toolbox. I mean, I know he’s smart and strong and all that, but who cares if you’re just gonna walk around acting like you’re better than everyone else? Scavengers are supposed to inspire people. Not like Abbott has to, since it’s not like Floor 2 comes out to support the games or anything. Bunch of posers. Whatever. I guess that’s why Abbott doesn’t care about being friendly or inspiring. He’s just trying to hold onto his apartment. I said hello to him the other day, and you want to know what he said to me?

“Felicitous greetings, citizen.”

What the hell?

Like I said.

Toolbox.

The worst part is that he’s a commander. He’s been doing this for years, doesn’t care about his score, and is an all-around prat. Whenever they announce his name at the games, the whole room gets depressed, as if you’ve just told everyone they’ve got three days to live. People get quiet for just as long as it takes to get Abbott’s name out of the way, then everyone immediately gets back to screaming as soon as the next Scavenger’s up.

I hate Judas Abbott.

You know who everyone really loves? Talk about a real commander. Vick McGill. Everyone loves Vick. Dude’s a few inches over six feet tall, actually not that built, but, you know, still pretty fit, plus it’s nice to find a guy that knows how to rock the bald look. He’s a little darker than me, but we’ve both got the same type of eyes. You know what I mean. Dark, like chocolate. Speaking of which, you know what’d be real nice of them to find on the next Scavenging? Some colored contact lenses.

God. Yes, please.

What was I saying? Oh, yeah. Vick. Now that’s a guy you want to scavenge with. I mean, right? Guy’s a hero. Nah, I take that back. Guy’s a legend. So get this. He was born on Floor 16. Sixteen. That’s, like, totally unbelievable. I mean, what? First of all, by that deep in the Tower, you’re pretty much ankle-deep in the Creep. That’s when you start getting daily hallucinations, so people that live that far down have to get used to seeing shadow men and Demons. Vick’s family was a tough bunch, though. All of them were Security members that made weekly rounds cleaning up the Creep, so even when he was young, Vick was used to being around that stuff.

Which is why everyone says he’s mentally a tough egg. Word is that Vick doesn’t crack. He never panics and doesn’t hallucinate since he’s been raised in one of the most infested parts of the Tower. Since he couldn’t get a decent education, obviously, since all the classrooms are in the upper floors, he taught himself using whatever books and videos he could find. Tower Authority doesn’t give out as many treats to the lower levels, so even when he was young, Vick was scavenging to find stuff to educate himself with. Books, videos, whatever, if he could find a way to use it, he would. Life was hard for him, but he made a way. Living in the Creep, without enough food and not much to entertain himself with, I mean, of course, he wanted to become a Scavenger.

Most people don’t volunteer for it in the first place, ’cause, I mean, it’s dangerous, duh. But the Creep’s a lot more intense on the lower levels, so obviously that’s why he joined, and he’s been doing it for six years now. Six. He’s going to be the first person to go seven years actively scavenging on a scavenging team. That’s amazing. That’s why he’s a commander. I mean, compare him to Abbott. Abbott’s been scavenging for ten years now, but you know how often he actually scavenges? Like, maybe twice a year. He prefers to “lead,” whatever that means. I guess Abbott thinks it’s his job to tell other Scavengers what to do while he stays safe.

Whatever.

Not Vick. Vick takes risks, and he’s always near the top of the scores. There are only three things guaranteed in the Tower: Death, the Creep, and Vick McGill. Guy’s sharp like a knife, too. Throw out some math problem, and he’ll pound it out like a hammer. Wow. That’s a real Scavenger.

So, guess who led the last scavenging team? I’ll let you guess whether it was Abbott or McGill.

If you guessed Abbott… dude, pay more attention.

Who’s listening to this recording again?

Recording Fifteen

Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.

No. No. I’m not going to talk about this today.

Recording Sixteen

Okay, look, I have to say something about it. I’m going to go nuts if I don’t, and word is that Security’s cracking down on anyone talking about it, so I need to at least record it.

Phew. Okay.

Look.

I’m just saying. All right, here’s how it happened.

No. You know what? Screw it. I’ll just spit it out.

Word is that someone on Floor 7 saw an Angel.

I can’t… I’m going to freak out, man.

Everyone knows about the Creep and the Darkness. You can’t get away from that stuff. Go down a few floors, and bam, there you go. Creep. Take a turn on rooftop duty and look over the edge. What do you see? Darkness, everywhere you go. Nobody in Tower Authority is trying to hide that stuff. They can’t. It’s there. We all know that. They’re a little less tolerant when people talk about Demons. I mean, what else are you supposed to call those things you see when you’re hallucinating off the Creep? Shadow people is the only other name I know, but whatevs, call them whatever you want. Point is, you know why you see them, and it’s because the Creep makes you see them. It’s toxic. It makes you trip. I can deal with that.

But I can’t deal with Angels. I can’t. I can’t.

I’m freaking out, man!

Okay. Context. Talk it out, Jackie, you’re cool. You’re cool!

I am not cool.

I’ve never told anyone about this. You shouldn’t. You’re not supposed to. You’re just supposed to bury it deep down until you feel it pushing up out of your pores. If someone tries to talk to you about it, you ignore them. I mean, Security comes after anyone that says they saw an Angel. They come after anyone that even talks about them! So, even if you weren’t the one that saw one, you’re supposed to just ignore anyone that says they did.

I think I’m calming down a bit. Deep breath, girl.

Okay. I’d just turned sixteen. I was on Floor 5. It was… late. Not after curfew, but a lot of people’d already gone to bed.

Jackie, why are you lying to your recorder?

Okay. It was after curfew. Sue me. See, lots of people like to think the floors we live on are all super-secure, but I know better. There are plenty of vents that go all through the tower. How far down they go, I don’t know. I’ve always been a little afraid to find out. Anyway, I just thought I’d do some everyday stalking. You know, see what goes on after hours. So I get out of the vents on Floor 8.

Yeah. Floor 8. Not Floor 5. Fine. I admit it. I was creeping Mike. Sue me.

Anyway, I’m on Floor 8, and it’s dark. It’s always dark in the halls after hours. Now, I expect if I see anyone, it’ll be Security. They’re hard to miss. I mean, we’re talking about guys walking around in bulky vests with helmets and stuff. After hours, I mean. They leave the helmets off during normal hours. But at night? Imagine looking down a long hallway and seeing a beefy seven-foot dude, wearing a mask and swinging a rifle, heading your way. No thanks, especially when it’s so late that you haven’t seen anyone else in the halls for a while.

Yeah, it’s not exactly something you’re hoping to see. So I’m walking, and there’s nobody around. No Security, no people. Nothing. At first I’m bored. I don’t really know where Mike’s apartment is. I’m just searching, you know. Then I start walking farther and farther down the halls.

Thing is, the Tower’s big, you know? Real big. Some of these halls go on a long time, and it’s not too hard to get lost. Okay, so yeah, I got lost. Real lost. At that point I was just turning corners trying to make my way back. I’m not sure how long this goes on, but I know I find my way into some real distant parts of the floor. I’m talking about places where nobody lives. You can always tell when someone lives in an apartment, ’cause they’ve got that green light on the outside keycard swipe. If nobody lives in the apartment, the light’s red.

Well, I turn one hall, and all the lights are red. Every single one of them, on both sides of the hall, are shining like a road to hell. It extends forever into a blackness I don’t have the brass to try and enter, so I try doubling back around. As I head back into the maze behind me, at some point I make a wrong turn. Again, lost. Then I make another, and another mistake. Soon every hallway is lit up in red. At every intersection I stop at, every direction is glowing crimson, like the walls have been painted in blood. So I do what everyone knows you’re supposed to do, and I start just taking every left I reach. Left, left, left, left, left. All red lights on the doors. No noise. The only thing I hear is my footsteps echoing down the hallway. That, and the sound of my heart as it plays the drums against my chest. Soon even my breathing is picking up, like I’m choking. It doesn’t help that the lights are so dim, since it’s after hours. Then I turn one corner, and I see the endless hallways, with all their doors, come to a stop. It’s a dead end.

But I see someone there, dressed in all white. They’ve got their back to me, and it looks like they’re messing with something in the wall. I freeze, the hairs on my arm standing up as my teeth clench together. All at once my body locks up and my breathing stops, so that the only sound left is my heart. It just goes bump bump as I stare at this person for what feels like an hour. Was really more of a second, but, damn, I don’t know. It was like forever. Whatever she’s wearing is skintight, but the worst part is when she suddenly looks up from whatever she’s doing. She’s noticed me. Then she turns.

I run, or at least I try to. I flip around and start to haul out of there with maximum effort. Bloodred hues whish by me as I super-speed to the opposite end of the hall. Only to see her standing there. Watching me. I juke, my ankles almost breaking as I turn around and sprint away. I hit the juncture and make a right, and there she is again, staring at me from down the hallway. I can’t cope with it, man. I just can’t. She’s everywhere I turn, and I just can’t get away from her, so I give up. I just look at her for a second and blink.

Then she’s gone.

I’m not going to talk about this again. Security’d come for me if they knew I’d recorded this.

Angels don’t exist.

Recording Seventeen

It’s been more than two weeks, and the Scavengers still aren’t back. This hasn’t happened before. They must be having to go deeper and deeper into the Tower to find supplies. Yesterday, for the first time in my life, I heard the morning speaker announce, “Day nineteen of the Scavenging has begun.” That was so weird. New things don’t happen in the Tower.

But this? A Scavenging going on more than two weeks?

This is new.

I don’t know why I bothered asking Dad since he just said not to worry. “They’ll be back soon,” he said, like nothing bad could happen. As if. He plays everything so cool, like everything’s okay in the world. I mean, I guess being able to ignore everything happening is a mildly useful skill to have in the apocalypse, but sometimes I really need someone that’s going to soak in my freak-out. Mom’s practically a panicked version of me that’s dialed up ten levels higher, so trying to complain to her is no good.

What is it about life that sometimes you just want somebody to listen? Why do I feel like I need that?

Whatever.

So, about the Scavenging.

No.

To be real… About Mike.

I don’t think I’d really started to notice how much Mom and Dad had changed until I was sixteen. They’d always been these, like, comforting towers of genius. Then I got older, and they seemed so… I don’t know. Something else. Not good. Dad got distant. Mom went nuts.

What bothered me most was I felt like what I remembered about them was gone. They weren’t the people I’d known, and I couldn’t figure out why. Speaking with them became impossible, and I can’t talk to Allison about this stuff. I know we’ve made up and I love her to death. I’d freaking rip someone’s arm out if it meant saving her, but she’s okay with living here. With not knowing what’s going on.

I’m not.

So for a long time, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. Nobody to listen to my questions and just say, “Hey, Jackie, you’re not completely entirely psycho.” I don’t need you to hand me tissues. I just need to know that I’m on someone’s mind.

I don’t know why. I just want to know I exist.

I guess that’s why I latched onto Mike so hard-core. Dude’s older than me, and I get that. But you know that feeling you get when you’re dying of thirst and you finally grab a glass of water? Like you’ve been working out all day, and you’re finally able to get a drink? That’s Mike. He’s a tall glass of cold water. Maybe mixed with some cherry flavoring to make him delicious.

It was last year when he came by the classroom. He didn’t need to be there, I mean, he was eighteen. He’d graduated. I was up to my normal shenanigans, trying to look through the library we keep to see if anything new’d been put on the shelves. Anyway, I don’t notice this joker coming up to me until he says, “Hey.”

I nearly flip out of my clothes, which would probably have been the most absolutely inappropriate thing to do at that moment. After I manage to find where my breath went, I took exactly one step back, locked up like I was standing in military salute, and said, “Hey.”

“What’ve you got going on here?”

“Oh, the reg, you know. Looking for some cool action stories or something. Hopefully a book with lots of killing and bloody violence, for my inner killer and all,” I say as I lean against the shelf. Of course, I forget that there’s nothing holding the books from sliding off the other side, and I cringe as I hear a pile of them unceremoniously colliding onto the floor. Mike just laughs as he heads around.

“Here,” he says, “let me get those.”

“Not by yourself. I’m not some damsel in distress.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says as I trail him into the next aisle. He leans down to grab some. “I’m just being a friend.”

“Is that right?” I ask as I join him, snatching a few off the ground and stacking them back on the shelves.

“Well, I figure, right? Been what? Four years we’ve known each other?”

“Yeah, but we haven’t really been friends. I didn’t think. I mean, you know.” I cluck my tongue. “Age and everything.”

“It’s just four years, Jack. Going on five soon.”

“But you’re also cool guy Mike! I’m… loner girl Jackie.”

“Psh. Who cares?”

“Peo… ple?”

“And why do I care about those people?”

See, that’s why he’s cool guy Mike. “Yeah, no, you’re right. I mean, I don’t care, either. I mean, look at me. Psh. I don’t even bother combing my hair.” Stupid. “Apparently.”

He finishes picking up the last of the books and stuffs them onto the shelf before settling onto the ground. It’s weird to just sit there with him. And he doesn’t say anything, so I’m like… am I supposed to do something in this situation?

“So, uh. Mike?”

“Hm?”

“What brings you down to the library?”

“I was looking for you. Figured you’d be here.”

Okay, well, at least he’s direct. “Want to know more about the Creep? I haven’t been anywhere, like, exciting or anything. Not recently, although I was thinking about heading all the way down to Floor 21 to see if I could find those Creep abusers. You know, the guys that like to trip off of the hallucinations?”

“Nah, Jackie, I just wanted to see how you were doing. I mean, we’re always talking about the Tower. When’s the last time we just talked? About how you’re doing?”

“Just, you know, for the record? That’s not really my fault. You’re the one who only comes around to ask me if I’ve managed to piss off more Security. That’s on you, buddy.”

“Hey, it’s not like I have this all figured out,” he says, shrugging it off like he does so much about life. “Yeah, we had a kind of weird kickoff to the friendship, seeing as I had to keep you from catching heat from Security. But we get along well enough, right? We both want to know what’s out there. Both want to know what’s up on Floor 1 or why we’re trapped in here.”

“Right. Not exactly like there’s a lot of inquisitive minds we live with.”

“Exactly. I just figured it was time to, you know, be a bit real. I mean, no sense pretending like I don’t like your company. I mean, yeah, sure, I like talking to you about what’s going on around here. Just figured it was worth trying to see if you’d like to talk about other things once in a while. Stuff.”

“No. I mean, yeah, sure. I love stuff. We can talk about stuff all day. You just caught me off guard.”

“Sorry, I do that to people.”

“Well, that’s better than me since I just tend to weird them out. At least I’m really good for having around if you want people to leave you alone. I’m like an anti-people field.”

He smiles as he passes his hand through his hair. Mike Chapman has the privilege of being able to do so. With me any such stunt would get your hand tangled in the multiple locks that spring out from my head. Don’t get me wrong; I wouldn’t trade my hair for the world. Mike’s hair, though, is like a bunch of brown silk all pulled back in a waterfall. It’s the closest thing to running your hand through a river.

His eyes roll up to the roof of the library. “Well, this is going great. I make you toss an aisle of books over, and then we sit here awkwardly.”

“You’re, like, describing my every friendship. I am routinely the cause of quiet discomfort. So, it’s really not a problem.”

Mike laughs, and I get an irritatingly warm sense of happiness about that. “Well, I’m thinking maybe we can do this more often. I mean, no pressure. Just if you want. Maybe we can get together for one of those movie nights they throw once in a while.”

“Oh. Right, that sounds great. I’ll try to scrounge up some chocolate bars.”

“Hah, I forget you’re a Quad. Down on Floor 8, we don’t get as many of those. But, hey, I can maybe trade for a soda or something. I’ve got a few green dollars that one kid I know collects. He’d probably trade for them.”

“This will literally be the most sugar I’ve ever had in a night.”

“Well, at least that’ll make it a night to remember, right?”

After that chat he didn’t treat me like a kid anymore. We weren’t necessarily adults… but we started actually having, you know, conversations.

It was nice. And I nearly had a sugar high off all that candy we ate.

I think what I was trying to say is that there aren’t a lot of people like Mike. He questions stuff. That’s why he loves scavenging so much, ’cause he gets to see what’s out there. I don’t, and won’t, no matter what I try to do. I’m a Quad, a Level 4 dweller. We don’t get to go out. So, yeah, you’ll excuse me if I’m worried about him, since he’s about the only person I can sit down with and talk to. I know he’s not going to answer any of my questions about what’s below Floor 21. You know what, though? At least he treats me like my questions are worth answering.

It means something when a person acknowledges you. And if something happens to him? Well, then, the only thing that’ll remember me when I’m old is this recorder.

Recording Eighteen

I woke up today to something I’ve never felt before. It was… weird. I’ve heard of these things, and you see them in the movies sometimes. Earthquakes, I think they’re called. Whatever, all I know is that I had to jump out of bed before the ground shook me out of it. Like, when I say shake, I mean the glass of water I had near my bed was jittering around like a dying bug. There were maybe two seconds to grab it before it went flying off the nightstand.

Don’t get me wrong. I caught it. Duh. I’m smooth like that.

Still, I was worried. Obviously. I tried asking Mom about it, but she was in one of those really manic happy moods where she’s just, I dunno, dead to the world. To be real I’m not even sure she felt the quake. So yeah. Pointless. I kinda felt like asking some of the other kids, but, you know, I was scared this was one of those things Security’d be real angry with if they found out we were talking about it. So I kept my trap shut.

Well, I did talk to someone about it today. Guess who.

Yeah, Allison. She comes by around two with that saucy walk she totally doesn’t mean to have but that she manages to rock anyway. That’s what happens when you’re, you know, confident. Anyway, she tosses herself onto my bed like she owns it. I guess you get to do that when you’ve been friends your whole lives.

She pops a piece of bubblegum as she leans back against the wall. “What up, Jackie O?”

“Where the hell did you get that?” I demand, staring at her like she’s murdered someone. “Seriously, did you thief it off of somebody?”

“What, this?” she asks with this despicably adorable grin before popping another bubble. “Nah, I got it from Tommy.”

“Tommy?” I swear only a supernatural force prevents me from giving her the stank eye. “So, you’re hanging with doucherton now?”

“He’s not such a bad guy. Besides, he told me you two made up.”

“Yeah, well… too early to tell.”

“C’mon, Jackie, you know he’s not so bad. I mean, he gave me gum.”

“You know why he gave you your gum, Allison, and it’s not because he wanted you to have some fresh flavor.” I stop a second, mulling that over. “Well, maybe he did, but that’s only because he wanted in on it.”

“Little harsh, don’t you think?”

“God, I don’t know anymore.” I look back toward the door of my room, which is closed but still doesn’t feel like a sufficient barrier between me and the outside world. “With the parents acting consistently nuts for the last few years and Mike’s trips down into the Deep Creep, I guess I could use a few more friends. But that doesn’t give you an excuse to start lip smacking Tommy before I verify he’s not just a skeez.”

“Oh my God, Jackie, would you lighten up? It’s bubblegum.”

“It’s sugar, Allison. It costs a lot. Maybe a movie. Maybe a CD. I don’t know, but it’s not cheap.” She huffs as she glances away. It’s fairly obvious my habitual tendency of overwhelming people with my objections is rearing its ugly head. “Allison. Sorry.”

She turns with a look of shock so impressive you’d think I’d told her I’d saved humanity. “What did you say?”

“I’m just saying that, you know, maybe you’re right. Maybe whatever Tommy is, he’s not what I remember. I mean, can he really be the same guy that made my life living hell when we were nine?”

“Hopefully not, geez.”

“Exactly.” I toss my hands up. “I’ve been trying to do some thinking, and it’s just got me wrapped up in my feels. I’m stuck on this question about why everyone acts differently than what I expect them to. Mom and Dad were supercool when I was young, and now I don’t even know who they are. Tommy used to be the biggest tool in the bag, and now he’s giving you bubblegum. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“People change, Jackie, that’s just, like, the way things are. You can’t get hung up on it.”

My glare at her is lined in frost and ice. “Easier to say when you can meet new people anytime you want.”

“You know you could, too, if you’d just stop harshing everyone for not being into the same things you are.”

“Like surviving being trapped in a tower when we have no idea why we’re here.”

Allison sucks wind and lets out a sigh. She hates these talks, but I’m glad she indulges them. Usually. “Jackie, I worry too. Seriously. I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. We’ve already had the discussion. You know I just don’t want to break any rules that could get me in trouble.”

“I mean, neither do I, but—”

Her eyes turn to knives. “Jackie. You don’t?”

“Just… I dunno. It can’t be wrong to be worried. Right?”

“Right. We’re different people, though.” Her voice drops, and I hate when she does that, because it’s all the proof I need that she really does get scared about getting caught by Security. “You’re a Quad, Jackie. You don’t think about it much, but you get, you know…”

She looks away like she’s ashamed to say it, and it’s like I can’t stop myself from demanding more. “No, Allison. What? What is it that I have?”

“You know… privileges. Your parents are assigned here because, well, they’re important. Security’s not as tight up as it is down where I live.”

I can’t help but fall back against the wall, my head hammering it as my eyes roll to the ceiling. “Yeah. Sorry, I… You’re right! You’re right. I don’t think about it that way.”

“Well, keep doing what you’re doing, Jackie. I’ll always listen. And I’ll help, if I can. Don’t know what I could do, but…”

“No, no, you’re fine, Allison. You’re the only person I know that acts like the same person I remember from years ago.”

“Guess I should take that as a compliment,” she says as she winks, her lips smacking her gum.

“Duh. Anyway, I’m in a vortex of frustration at the moment. I’m sure you can tell.”

“No, that was completely undetectable,” she says with a laugh. “You worry too much about the Tower is why.”

“Uh, maybe because reasons? I mean, didn’t you feel that earthquake this morning?”

“Earth what?” She shakes her head, obviously uninformed. “I didn’t feel anything.”

“Allison, I had a glass of water on my counter shaking so bad I had to grab it before it hit the floor.”

“Oh, that! Yeah, no, I slept right through it. Woke up this morning to see my lamp broken all over the ground.”

“You slept through that? What did you do, load up on sleeping pills last night?”

She frowns, that boy-winning puppy lip of hers jutting from her mouth. “No, I’m just a heavy sleeper. Always been like that. Why do you think I always used to miss morning classes?”

“I presumed because you were lazy.”

“Nah. Extra-heavy sleeper is all.”

“Damn.”

“Anyway, feel like heading to the lounge? Heard they had that game system set up.”

Allison. I love her to death, and she really does get my mind off things. Which is good, since so much has been weird lately. Especially today. I don’t just mean because the Scavenging’s been going on for almost three weeks now, which I mean, what? That’s totally not supposed to happen. Seriously, though, something’s up. I mean, think about it.

One, Dad’s been gone. A lot. I know I get angry at him, but… he’s my dad. And yeah, he’s typically gone a lot during the Scavenging, because he’s responsible for making all the weapons and repairing stuff. I get that. This time of year he’s usually off making replacement weapons for Security to use, but he’s been spending way too many late nights on Floor 3. Like, a lot more than usual. Then when he comes around, he’s even more quiet than he normally is. Doesn’t even read his tablet, and that’s one thing he never used to skip on. Even on our worst days, I like to think that we get along, but lately it’s like his body’s here but nothing else. He’ll barely say a word when he gets back from work, and he hides himself in his study. Mom’s been antsy about it, too. She’s always nervous when she’s not nutso happy anyway, but it’s been worse than normal. It’s got to be because of something going on with Dad. Her moods normally come in waves, but right now her anxiety’s like an ocean.

That’s not the only thing, though. Later on, Allison mentioned that her father’s been gone a lot more than normal, too, and not for usual stuff like hallway patrol. According to her they’ve been tightening up security on the lower levels. You know, below Floor 11. They’re making sure everyone’s in bed by curfew and making it harder to use the stairwell. I can back up that point. I tried going down to Floor 12 the other day, and they were being real tools about it, asking me why I was going there and what business I had. Uh, excuse me, I know we’re supposed to follow certain rules, and as far as I knew, I wasn’t breaking any of them. So care to back off, Mr. Cop?

It was irritating at the time, but now it’s scary. Increased security. Dad’s been gone longer. Scavengers have been gone a lot more than usual. And before I forget, Allison also told me that Security was thinking about going real deep into the Tower. Like, Scavenger level deep. Below Floor 21.

If they’re thinking about doing that, then there has to be a reason. Maybe they’re trying to push back the Creep and reclaim a few floors, or maybe they’re considering going after the Scavengers. How should I know?

What I know is that this is all happening at the same time, and that creeps me the hell out.

Recording Nineteen

I’m worried about Mike. Yeah, I said it. So what? The sorry part is that he’s three years into his term as a Scavenger. After three years they rotate you out and into the reserves; that way they only use you if, like, we lose a bunch of Scavengers at once. Most people that hit three years ride out the last four years of scavenging as backups that never go back down to the lower floors. A few actually choose to stick with it, so they get bumped to lieutenants and eventually commanders. There aren’t a lot of them, but they get mad respect.

Actually, come to think of it, people from the lower levels do try to stick it out on the active list for the entire seven years more often than anyone else. Want to know why?

So, I’ve said before that people on the lower levels don’t get as much food, and they don’t get free access up here, to the higher floors. Now, if you’re born on the lower levels, it sucks to be you. Right? Well, that’s where being a Scavenger can help. If you do an entire seven years as one, you and everyone living in your apartment are moved up to Floor 11. Talk about a perk, am I right?

Thing is, have you ever heard of anyone finishing seven years as an active Scavenger and moving to the higher levels? I haven’t.

That’s because most people die before their first three years are up.

Which, for those of you keeping track at home, is why I’m worried about Mike. People have a bad habit of dying in their third year. Mike lives on a pretty good floor so he’s just doing this because he likes helping the tower out. Plus I mean, the whole chance to learn more about the Creep thing. Point is, he didn’t have to do this. He chose to, and this was the last year he was going to have to be down there.

Now I don’t know if he’s coming back.

Recording Twenty

Dad didn’t come home today.

Mom’s going crazy.

I can’t cope, man. Nobody’s saying anything about what’s going on.

Mike’s gone. Security’s everywhere.

I need to get some answers.

Recording Twenty-One

The speaker says, “Day twenty of the Scavenging has begun,” and it forces me out of bed. That’s not a bad thing, since I have garden duty today. The light outside is bright enough that there are slits of it cutting across our gray carpet. Most days it’s choked out by black clouds, so it’s nice to actually see some real sun for once. It’s usually doing its best to play hide-and-seek. It usually wins.

Gardening sucks, and this is a well-known fact. At least, I hate it. The gloves they make you wear have been used by, like, a hundred other people. You’re shoving your hand into a leather container full of other people’s bacteria and dead skin. That’s gross. You put up with it, though, since you’d rather wear them than use the garden tools without them. The shovel we use has all these splinters jabbing out that try to stab you. We’re talking life-threatening levels here. You could kill a vampire with those things.

That might be an exaggeration.

I walk around the apartment and put together a few things. Mom is already gone. I’m not sure where, but everything’s pretty quiet. I’m still pretty agitated, though. Think about it. With everything going on, who wouldn’t be? Dad didn’t come back. Again. Even as weird as he’s become over the last few years, he’s not an absent father. That’s just not him. Also, tomorrow is Sevenths Day, and he always makes it a point to attend.

Which reminds me, the food drop is tomorrow. We need it. I check the fridge to see what we have to eat, but it’s a total downer. The cold light inside leaks out into the kitchen, and the sad part is that the dingy fridge light is about all we have at this point. That, cold air, and a few vegetables that are blacker than usual.

Have I told you the most depressing part about gardening? Looking at those sad vegetables. Even when you yank them from the dirt and they’re fresh, their skin is already kinda brown. It doesn’t take more than two days before they start going black. I mean, I know they’re still safe to eat, but they look like yesterday’s bathwater. I cut up a few of them and dump them into a bowl to make soup. The worst part about that is what happens to the water. It doesn’t take more than, like, a minute before the soup goes black. The changes they’ve made to our vegetables mean they last longer, but they also look like junk. It’s not because they’re rotten; just, it’s the chemicals in them. Or something like that.

So after the water turns black, I grab some coloring from the cabinet, which is the only way to make soup look even remotely appealing. We use glass vials so we know what type of color we’re using. Today I choose red. I open the top and let a few drops into the water. Soon I’ve got a rich crimson soup that looks like tomato sauce. Well, watery tomato sauce, but at least it’s something you can eat. Must suck to live on the lower floors and not have coloring.

I’ve been thinking. Tomorrow is Sevenths Day, almost twenty-one days since the Scavengers left. They’ve got Security everywhere right now. Thing is, Security’s always doubled on Sevenths Day, so I’m pretty sure that tomorrow most of them are going to be around Reception Hall. I cleared my plan with Allison, who’s going to cover for me. So, I’m going to tell Mom I’m going with Allison to service, but you know that’s not what I’m really going to do.

I leave to do some assertive sleuthing, and as I go up the stairwell to the rooftop, I notice the vents. Yeah, those things run everywhere. I’ve never caught it before, but I see that, high above the door to Floor 1, there’s a vent there, too. That means the vents connect everything in the Tower. I’ve always used them to go down to the lower floors, but never up. Tomorrow I’m going to do something about that.

I wonder if I’ll get put into Reinforcement if I get caught. Hah.

Who am I kidding? Of course, I will.

Anyway, I’m going to use the vent access to head up to Floor 3. You know, all those rooms you can’t access there? The labs? Well, I’m going to check ’em out. I want to see if Dad’s okay.

Plus, it’ll be a good chance to see how far up the vents I can really go. Because if I can, well… you know.

I’ll be visiting Floor 1.

Recording Twenty-Two

Rule 1 of the Air-Vent Explorer’s handbook says that before you go crawling through an air vent, make sure you’re small enough to fit.

For the record, I wrote the handbook. I think I’m also the only air-vent explorer.

See, not everyone can do this. It’s basically only for people that aren’t, well, big. I’m strong, but I’m still a thin girl, so it’s not exactly hard for me to fit in these. If Tommy tried this, he’d probably get that huge head of his stuck.

Other things. You need tools. I’m wearing a small bag around my waist, and it’s got everything I need to get in and out. For instance, I brought a screwdriver and wrench with me.

But, man, was it a pain getting those things.

So, of course, we don’t exactly have, like, spare stuff sitting around. Stuff gets sparse in the Tower. My friend Ben does lots of time with Maintenance, though, so he has access to these kinds of things.

You know, I had to promise him my next three candy bars? Damn it.

Whatever. I got what I needed. If you want to know what happened to my last tool bag, well, let’s just say I dropped it. And what I mean when I say that is that my bag must have dropped about twenty stories down a vent infested with Creep.

So it’s technically seen more of this tower than me.

Mom left for Sevenths Day fairly early, like she normally does. Dad might not be around, but she still sticks with her schedule. So everyone leaves for Reception. Meanwhile, I hide in a Cleanup closet. Those are about the only safe places to get in and out of the vents without Security finding you. Especially right now. There’s one not far down the hall from me, so I scouted it to make sure nobody was inside. That doesn’t take much. If you knock and someone answers, you just explain that you think you saw some vomit or something in the stairwell.

Those guys get right on it.

Removing the vent cover and replacing it is the most important part; otherwise people will know you’re moving around in them. The vents in this tower are pretty big, I guess because of all the machinery they have running things, but that doesn’t mean they’re spacious. Anyway, a wrench will take the grate off, but you can’t forget to replace it once you’re inside. If the grate looks too loose, then someone might notice that you’re in there. I’ve used this Cleanup closet a few times, and nobody’s noticed me use it yet. I don’t think.

It’s impossibly slow work crawling my way upward, not to mention hazardous to my skin. Rule 2 of the Air Vent Explorer’s handbook is to wear some padding, so I brought some of the elbow and knee guards I use when I fight. Some of the edges of those vents are real sharp, and you don’t want to go bleeding through a grate.

Rule 3 is probably my most important rule, though. Bring a flashlight. I’m just saying, have you ever crawled through an air vent before? It’s dark. Really, you can’t see your palm from the wall sometimes. The only light you get is whenever you’re passing by a vent that leads into a room. Which, by the way, is a cool bonus. I get to hear some insane conversations sometimes. But that’s totally not the point.

The point is, I’m here, taking a break for now. I’ve been working my way upward for about, oh, an hour now, and I just need to chill for a second. Though, total truth moment here, it’s kinda scary. It’s definitely super-dark. Doesn’t really matter if I look straight ahead or at the ceiling because, well, it’s all as black as my heart. Kidding. Just on days when I’m angry.

People will be coming back from Sevenths Day soon, so the only good thing I can say is that I’m getting close to Floor 3. I’ve probably mentioned that the Tower is huge. Yeah. Like, if you can get lost in the halls, imagine trying to move around in the vents.

I seem to have the instinct for it, though.

Anyway, after people get back from Sevenths Day, things will be empty up there on Floor 2. So, no problem, right? If I get really desperate, I can probably just exit through one of the closets near Reception Hall.

Anyway. Break time’s over. I need to get moving before I sweat so bad that people start getting a whiff of my stank through the grates.

Recording Twenty-Three

I don’t find anything too unusual, but to be fair, I don’t really know what I’m looking for. Most of what I see is, I dunno, usual lab stuff. At least, what I think should be in a lab. Lots of worktables, computers, whiteboards, all that stuff is here. Earlier I saw a big work space, but the only stuff there was a bunch of solar panels.

The one thing I’m sure of is that there’s lots of cool stuff lying around.

Lots more than I thought, actually. So, like, the rooftop. The solar panels are rare, right? But that work space had to have had, uh, at least a dozen of them. So, what the hell? Also, it kinda looked like there were a bunch more stored away in a locker. I couldn’t really make it out, since the doors were closed, but the front of the locker had glass windows. Anyway, I’m just saying that from what I could make out, it looked like there were tons more.

Um, it also looks like people in the Science department attend Reception. I guess even they could use the encouragement. Kind of depressing if you think about it. The only guys keeping us alive need to go to a guy like Receiver Garry to keep their spirits up. Not that there’s anything wrong with Garry; it’s just, do you really want your Science department getting advice from a guy who says it’s best not to ask questions?

Do you really?

Anyway, nothing important to report so far. None of these labs look like they have anything supersecret or anything. Just a bunch of solar panels that they keep trying to convince us are really extremely rare.

Recording Twenty-Four

Damn damn damn. I’ve been sitting here for, like, twenty minutes. Yeah, that’s a lot of wasted time. I couldn’t move, though. Two guys were here, scientists, and they both decided now was the perfect moment to chitchat. Great. It’s not smart to move in the vents when people are right next to you, so I had to just wait. And wait. And wait. Finally those two walked off.

I did hear something, though. Also, I should probably describe what I’m looking at.

So, the lab below me. It’s not like the other ones. I mean, it’s still nothing too strange, but… I dunno. There are a ton of vials around it, and a lot of computers running… some program. I don’t know, lots of math stuff is going across the screens. They’re not working on anything mechanical here; I can at least figure that out. Mom’s told me about her lab before, and she says they have lots of plants and stuff in glassed-off areas where they run experiments. That’s not what this is, either.

But there are a bunch of glass tubes sitting against the wall, plus some microscopes. I mean, it’s pretty obvious they’re testing something here, since I can see that half the room is separated by a glass wall. I can’t tell what’s inside, but way way way in the back is a different vent. It’s not connected to the one I’m in, so, I’m guessing, there are two separate ventilation systems? How does that make sense? Why would they need that?

I’m guessing there’s something in the air back there that they’ve got to keep separate from the rest of the Tower’s air circulation. Maybe.

I never really stopped to think about whether or not there would be anything toxic in the air as I wandered through the labs. Now I’m creeped the hell out.

Anyway, I’m already kinda, well, edgy is putting it mildly. Super-freaked, on the other hand, is an excellent way of saying it. I mean, here I am, in the labs, doing something I know could get me taken by the goons in Security. Now what if I told you that that wasn’t the big reason I’m freaked out?

Those two scientists I was talking about? Yeah, well, get this. The one with glasses turns to his friend and says, “Have you finished up with that Creep sample yet?”

“No,” the other guy says. “I haven’t been able to get it to calm down. It’s really volatile right now.”

“Is it acting up?” glasses guy asks. “You know, they’re going to need it for Reinforcement. They’re running low on supply.”

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “It’s getting harder and harder to stabilize samples, though. The Creep samples are acting up a lot lately. Ever since that situation last year.”

“Right. When it got really, really angry.”

“Well, you know what happens when we make it upset. We should have known better.”

Excuse me, but what the heck are they talking about? The situation last year? Could they be talking about what happened on my birthday? Because… I mean, it did happen a year ago. I can still hear all the gunshots. I remember… people didn’t come back after that night. And the one thing I do know about the Creep is that it gets angry and aggressive. I mean, come on, that’s exactly what happened when I turned sixteen. It’s the whole reason we were on lockdown.

Anyway, these guys know something.

Worse—what did he mean when he asked if the other guy was done with the sample? All these years, and I never even thought they might be experimenting on the stuff. I mean, it’s stupid to think they wouldn’t, but still. I just always assumed that we were, you know, smarter than trying to experiment on stuff that literally has us trapped in the Tower.

But you want to know the worst part?

Why did they say they were going to need it for Reinforcement?

What do they do with it in Reinforcement? Did they use it on Danny somehow?

God. Maybe I’m wasting my time here on Floor 3. Maybe I need to just shoot straight to the top.

Maybe I need to just get to Floor 1.

Recording Twenty-Five

I haven’t talked about everything I know about the Creep. Why would I? It’s not like there’s an encyclopedia about it you can just pick up.

Here’s the thing, though. Nobody really likes to say it, but everyone kinda knows… if you don’t take care of the Creep, it’ll take care of you. Like, I’m not saying that it’s going to come after you. It’s more like… I dunno. It’s like mold. Except mold that grows on you. Just not too often, but every kid’s raised to be scared of the Creep. That’s the whole reason you’re not supposed to touch it. I mean, besides the crazy hallucinations you’ll get.

I never really knew whether to believe it or not, but there’s a kids’ story they tell. Everyone knows it ’cause everyone hears it growing up. It’s about this girl, Creepy Sally.

Creepy Sally in her home. Creepy Sally’s all alone. In her room on Floor 16. She wished to be a beauty queen.

But Creepy Sally couldn’t be. ’Cause Sally’s pretty creepy, see? Got the rot all down her arm. Now Creepy Sally causes harm.

Roaming down the halls at night. Always trying to pick a fight. One thing, child, that you must do. Is run before she catches you.

Security tried to put her down. But Creepy Sally’s on the prowl. Got the Creep all in her skin. Now Sally’s paying for her sin.

So, yeah. Basically you don’t want to end up like Sally. If you want to believe the stories, she used to live down on Floor 16. Kinda a loner type, but who wouldn’t be so far down in the Creep? Maybe too much of a loner. The story is she’d kinda just lay around in bed all day. Maybe she was angry or depressed, but she stayed in one spot so long the Creep got her. I mean, it started to grow on her. Grosses me out just thinking about that stuff starting to get into your skin and your blood.

Funny thing is, nobody can ever say what she looks like. I mean, if this really did happen, it happened on Floor 16. I’m guessing Security would take her down if she ever tried to come up the Tower.

Then again, the nursery rhyme does say they tried to put her down. Which, you know, means they failed. Which means she’s strong enough to fight back against Security.

God. I don’t want to think about that.

One boy I knew said that when the Creep gets in you, that it starts to make, like, bubbles in your skin. Then the bubbles start to ooze. Then you start to grow lumps all over your body as the Creep spreads.

Why am I thinking about this while I’m crawling through panic-inducing vents and can barely see three feet in front of me?

It’s becoming overly apparent that I like to torture myself.

Also, yeah, I’m coming up on Floor 2, so I’m getting antsy. It won’t be much longer before I find out if there’s a way to climb even higher.

Recording Twenty-Six

I crawl over Reception Hall and stare down. It’s funny seeing it empty, from the air, like I’m some flying invisible god. Receiver Garry’s still in there. I can see him moving back and forth once in a while, putting things away. He’s muttering as he does this, so I stop to listen to him as he talks. I’ve never thought of him as crazy, but I don’t think talking to yourself is a great sign.

I recognize the first part of what he’s saying, though.

“On Firsts Day, the Builders erected the Tower. At that time the world was covered in Darkness, and the Tower rose from the depths of the Creep.

“And the Builders said, ‘We must be a light.’ And the light of the Tower became a beacon in the Darkness.”

Chapter 1, Line 1, The Book of the Tower.

We all have to recite it every Sevenths Day. It’s kind of a reminder that the reason we’re supposed to be on our best behavior isn’t just, like, to survive. Receiver Garry always says that if we’re not a light in the Darkness, the ones that were taken away, into the skies, won’t come back for us.

That’s pretty crapsack of them if you ask me. What sort of plan is that?

Speaking of which, why did we get left behind in the first place?

Anyway, I’m not surprised as Garry goes onto the second line. “On Seconds Day, the Builders said, ‘We must be separate from the Darkness,’ and the gardens of the Tower were separated from the Creep to give life to all those that would follow.”

So, yeah, thanks, Builders. I really appreciate the fact that we were left to survive in a tower filled by the Creep. But, hey, at least we’ve got the garden. I mean, no reason to try and take us with you or anything. Obviously I prefer eating black tainted vegetables to getting out of here.

Although, now that I think about it, they never mention whether the Builders stayed behind or left with everyone else.

I’m going to bet they left. Jerks.

Whatever. Garry stops reciting and kinda does this thing where he looks around, like he’s nervous. At first I think he might have noticed me, but the vent I’m in is pretty high. So high that I’m kinda scared it’ll break and dump me onto the ground. I mean, getting caught would suck, but I’m pretty sure I’d bust a few bones if I fell from this far up.

Anyway, I watch as Garry glances around. Then he looks up, right at me, and I freeze. I swear he must be able to see me, but it has to be too dark in the vent. A second later he glances away before tumbling onto his knees.

Then he begins to cry.

I can’t tell what’s going on at first. Really, I think he’s laughing. Then his voice slows down, and his shoulders begin to shake. Garry buries his face in his hands and leans over, until his head’s touching the ground, like he’s begging for mercy. Then he just starts to wail. I can feel the hairs on the back on my neck dancing as his crying gets louder, like it’s vibrating inside the walls of the vent.

It gets inside my skin, and I just feel… I don’t know, man, like I’m all in my feels. Then he stops crying for a moment and starts to talk again.

“In those days the Children of Men will be taken, snatched up from the Darkness. They will be taken out of Darkness and into the Light.”

Yeah. That’s another basic line we all learn, too. It’s one of the most important ones. If we didn’t think we had a chance of leaving the Tower, life would suck more than it already does. Thing is, Receiver Garry doesn’t stop there.

“The Children of Men will go down into the Darkness. They will not return. They will stumble at the temple. They will vanish into the night. In that day, all the light of the Tower will be snuffed out.”

I stare at him for a long time and watch as he slowly peels himself off the floor. He’s looking like a ripe tomato, and I can see the front of his shirt is stained from all the tears. It would be pathetic if it wasn’t so depressing. I can’t help wonder if Garry is normally like this when nobody else is around, or if he’s just a crying mess today of all days. Because if he’s normally like this whenever he’s not putting on a show, then that doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence in me.

About that last line he quoted. It’s called a Hellverse. Something about The Book of the Tower is that it’s got contradicting information. Some parts say that one day we’ll get out of here. Others say we’ll get consumed by the Darkness.

I guess I know which one Garry believes. Problem is, I don’t know if it’s because he’s usually like this, or if it’s because something’s been going on recently.

I really don’t want to believe that it’s because of what’s been going on recently.

Recording Twenty-Seven

I would like to say I quickly found out that it takes a while to get to Floor 1, but pretty much the opposite is true. When you use the stairwell, it seems pretty quick, but that’s because they go straight up the tower. The vents don’t really do the same thing. After going past Reception Hall, I ended up circling back before the vents started to slope upward. The thing about using these to get around is that it’s exhausting. I’m sure most people haven’t had to crawl around a lot since they were babies, so most people don’t realize you get real tired real quick. Like, so tired you want to pass out. The only thing that keeps you going sometimes is the fact that you’re, you know, freaking stuck in a vent. It’s claustrophobic and you can’t get comfortable. Sometimes I even start to feel my chest burn and my breath get short.

Once you’ve gotten control of yourself and start to go up, it’s like pulling yourself up a hill. It never gets easier, so you’ve got long minutes where you’re just pouring sweat. You could squeeze my shirt a few times and fill up a bucket. You’re thinking I’m exaggerating, but, swear to God, I can feel myself sliding back down the shaft every time I stop moving. It’s like I’ve been soaking myself in butter or something. You could pitch me down a hallway, and I wouldn’t come to a stop, that’s how much I’ve sweat today.

It’s at least an hour after I see Receiver Garry before I make any real progress. I’m getting so tired of crawling by that point that I really just want to go to sleep, but I know I have to be back on my floor before nighttime. Reception’s been over for a while, and even though my mom is used to me wandering off, I really don’t want to make her too suspicious, especially with how whacko she is currently. That’s going to be hard considering I currently look as if I’ve taken a jump into a swimming pool. I mean, I can’t see myself, but I know that I look like yesterday’s diapers.

For the first time since I’ve started trying to climb up to the top floor, I hit an obstacle, but at least it’s nothing that a screwdriver can’t handle. There are grates inside the vents as I move upward, but my biggest worry is being heard from outside. At this point I’m kind of crawling blind, though. I don’t know where I am, only that I’ve been moving up and up and up. So I’ve got to be close to the goal. I kinda wonder if there’d been a way to do this from the rooftop, but the only thing like a vent that I’ve seen up there are the narrow water filters. I’m skinny, but not a chicken bone.

My fingers struggle with the screwdriver while my other hand holds the flashlight. Normally I like to think I have a light touch, but today I can barely manage to do two things at once. Part of the problem is my hands are so moist I keep dropping the screwdriver. Every time it hits the floor of the vent, this really deep clang seems to scream into the darkness. How nobody can hear my ruckus by this point is a mystery. Anyway, it takes a minute, but I’m finally able to undo the screws and crawl on. To nobody’s surprise, I nearly let the grate slam downward. Shoot me, but for whatever reason, I’m not thinking straight. At least I catch it before it hits the ground. I might be able to get away with dropping the screwdriver, but there’s no way I’d get away with this little adventure if I made any louder noises. I’m already making an echoing thud every time I move. You can practically hear it singing in the distance. Still, at least the only noise is me. I can’t hear anything else, so wherever I am, there doesn’t seem to be anybody else outside my narrow crawling space.

I pull myself forward with my flashlight guiding the way. It gives off this circle of light that eats into the darkness and lets me move on. In the distance I can see the end of the tunnel, but it just looks like a dead end. Since I have enough experience to know that’s not the case, I squirm my way along, wiggling through the vent. As I do I start to hear something, and it just gets closer and closer with every inch I move.

Whatever it is, it’s pretty steady. Every couple of seconds, I hear this heavy doom noise that masks the sound of my movement. That lets me relax a bit. I feel like I’ve been holding in my breath for a half hour, worried about whether anyone is hearing me crawl around or not. I take one shuffle forward, and doom. I take another shuffle forward, and doom. The noise is a real, deep bass that rattles the metal surface around me and puts a shiver in my teeth.

I’m closing in on the end of the tunnel, and everything around me is shaking with every dooming sound coming from above. The vent turns suddenly upward, so I flip onto my back to see what’s making all the racket. As I point my light upward, I barely make out the sight of a massive blade as it passes across my vision. This happens a couple of times like a constantly turning clock hand. My ears are filling up with the sound of them as they pass in a slow rotation above me.

For a moment I have to stop and wonder about these things. They’re obviously part of the circulation system, but they’re moving super-slow and they don’t seem to be particularly sharp. I kinda wonder to myself if I could just, you know, hold a hand up and catch one. Make it stop. Thing is, I’m really not sure what sort of mechanics are spinning this piece of junk. Maybe it can’t slice me in half, but if I get caught in it, I might get my chest crushed in or something. I mean, at the very least.

Then I look down at my wrench and get to thinking. Okay, so, muscle doesn’t do really well against metal. That’s cool; I get that. On the other hand, maybe this wrench might be able to help out. I’m kinda against the idea of leaving it behind, since I don’t know how I’ll get around without it. Then again, maybe I won’t have to. Maybe I can use it to bust the fan, then keep it. If not, well, I guess I’ll just have to find other ways of getting out of the vents. I just really, really don’t want to end up trapped in here. My options in that case aren’t good: scream for help and get taken to Reinforcement, or die in here and stink up the joint.

Mom always did say I was a pessimist.

At this point I’m just stalling, so I flash my light upward and examine the blades. There’s about five seconds between each spin. This fan isn’t even that big, so how could something this small be such a huge problem for me? Whatever. It’s kinda a pain in my butt, but I manage to prop myself up and get my back against the vent. I don’t think about this plan backfiring too much as I shove the wrench into the recession in the wall, then snatch my hand back before it gets the execution treatment. The next blade passes overhead, its edge sliding into the recession and grinding into the wrench.

God. It sounds like a dying mechanical unicorn. If there’s a heaven, our robotic overlords there are weeping.

The fan keeps wrestling with the wrench like an old fighter trying to pull out a victory, but the wrench holds. This is what happens when you strike the immovable object. What I don’t anticipate is the sudden snap from somewhere deep in the bowels of the tower and a hissing as smoke starts to fizzle into the vent.

Damn. Too much of that, and someone’s going to smell it.

I yank the wrench out of the recession and then somehow manage to bend my body so that I’m upright. Want to guess what happens next?

Right. More vents.

Recording Twenty-Eight

I’m rich. Have I talked about that?

I mean, comparatively. I have the biggest apartment, I get the most food, I don’t have to worry about going into a bad job. Don’t get me wrong, I mean, I don’t talk about myself that way much. I mean, why would I? Nobody likes the chick that can’t stop talking about how much better her life is than everyone else’s, am I right?

Still, it’s good to remember I’m rich… for the Tower. Some of those Blu-Ray movies we watch have people living in big freaking houses. With yards full of trees. We’ve got trees in the Tower, but they’re kinda pathetic. They took the short end of the genetic lottery.

What I’m telling you is that they suck.

I mean, it’s nice to have some, but they’re all kinda limp and short. You don’t use adjectives like “towering” or “majestic” to describe them. Anyway, my floor has more trees than any other in the Tower. And you know what? My floor still doesn’t look good. Because the trees don’t look good. Because the hallways are the color of concrete and rust. Because my clothes were still handed down to me from whoever wore them first; they just happen to be made from a nicer material. For all I know, they got snatched up during a Scavenging.

Life in the Tower is still life in the Tower, even if you’re a stuck-up rich chick. Which, for the record, I’m not. I’m just well-off compared to everyone else.

At least, that’s what I thought until today.

Have you ever seen heaven?

I think I might have.

It took a while to work my way farther up the ventilation system, but for all of the Security that Floor 1 has guarding its doors, I think I forgot that we’re still living in a pretty crappy tower that got left over from God knows what.

So, what’s the point, Jackie? The point is I finally got to Floor 1. It wasn’t like arriving into the afterlife or suddenly bursting into a new world. Nope. It was better.

I haul myself up into the level one vents and start pulling myself along. Down the tunnel I can see light coming up from alongside me, which, I mean, wouldn’t you get excited? I… start… to… freak. This has been a dream of mine for, like, years. I’d rather be going down into the Creep, maybe ’cause I’m just a little bit wrong in the head, but Floor 1’s a pretty big deal. I don’t know anyone but Scavengers and some people from Security that get here.

The light I’m seeing is bright, too. Big time. It’s practically flooding the vents, but I know I have to be careful. I’ve got no idea who might be outside, and I don’t want to make so much noise that I set off some alarms. So, I crawl, slowly, my legs pushing me along a few inches at a time. I can see the vent grate coming closer and closer until I’m seconds away from getting a clear view of Floor 1.

Each inch I move makes the world just a bit brighter. Then, I stop. I’m there, and my eyes are staring out of the darkness and into the light.

Oh… my… God.

It’s… it’s beautiful, man.

Have you ever found yourself, like, getting emotional for no reason? Like, you just want to cry, and you don’t even get why you feel like that? I don’t know how else to say what I was feeling. There were white walls. There was warm light. I felt like my whole life had been painted in blacks and grays, and suddenly it had color in it.

Do you know what it’s like to see colors you’ve never known existed?

I start to shake as I watch people walk down the hall. They have on all white, too. Their clothing… it’s new. No patches or tears or rips. They have jewelry on. I’m not talking about the stupid metal rings or cheap necklaces that get found once in a while after a Scavenging. I’m low to the ground so I can’t make out any faces, but I see one guy’s wrist. Damn, who’s he trying to blind? His watch is gold. It’s pure gold, and it shines brighter than I’ve ever seen the sun shine.

They walk by, talking, laughing, and enjoying themselves. Now I get it. Now I understand why you never see Authority on the lower levels.

Why would you want to leave heaven to come down to hell?

Recording Twenty-Nine

As I fight to motivate my elbows to keep dragging me along, I smell something that I’ve never known existed. I don’t know how to describe it… it kind of stings your nostrils, but… it’s not bad. It smells sterile, I guess. At first it kind of makes my eyes water, but I get used to it. Then I start to hear this loud noise. It’s not constant, but every once in a while, a huge splash fills the tunnel I’m crawling through. Seconds later a bunch of feet run by. By the sound of it, I can tell there are a ton of kids around my age running around. They’re laughing and shouting at one another, and soon you hear a bunch of those splashes all at once.

I slide up to the edge of the vent and stare into the room beyond. There are windows above the room, but I know they can’t be real. The rooftop’s still a level above us. Well, whatever. This room has “windows,” and I’m using that term loosely, above it.

I… I’ve never seen a sky like what I’m seeing here.

Clouds—not black or gray, but white—drift along under a blue sky.

The only places I’ve seen a blue sky are in the movies we watch on our free time. It doesn’t really exist in our world.

That’s not the part that really amazes me, though. I mean, yeah, it does, but it’s not the only thing. What’s really amazing to me is what’s directly in front of me. All those boys I heard are running again, down the edge of a swimming pool. Now, I talk about swimming pools. We know what they are from movies. Until now, though, I’ve never seen one. Water’s too scarce, you know?

For the record, every drop of water we use gets recycled. Dirty bathwater? Recycled. Water in your toilet? Recycled. The Tower barely wastes anything. Can’t afford to, right? The rest of the water we get from the filters on the rooftop. Anyway, ’cause we can’t afford to waste water, we don’t have stuff like swimming pools.

At least, I didn’t think we did. Not until now.

I see a pair of doors on the opposite side of the room slide open, and a man all in white steps in. I’m not gonna lie; this man is gorgeous. He’s got a comic book chin and hair you could have ripped off the cover of a cheap romance novel. Yeah, and a chest as broad as a barrel.

That’s not a man you’d want to get into a fight with.

Anyway, he calls out to the boys, and they gather around him. For a second they talk, but from my place, I can’t really make out what they’re saying. Whatever it is, the boys run out of the room a second later. Mr. Fabulous Hair over there hesitates at the doorway before pulling some sort of small bottle out of his pocket. It’s hard to say for sure, but it looks like he pops out a few pills or something. I see him tilt his head back to swallow whatever that stuff was, and then he wipes at his mouth for a few seconds before walking out of the room.

For a moment I wait at the vent, my hand trembling by my waist. I reach for the wrench in my bag, but I know I can’t stop here. I have to keep going. I have to find… well, I don’t know what I have to find. But I have to find something before I go back. Something that tells me what’s really going on in this tower. So, as much as I want to dive into that pool and wash this sweat off of me, I continue into the darkness.

Recording Thirty

Crying fills the tunnel as I move forward. The stinging scent of the pool is gone, and I kinda miss it, but I continue. Still, I slow down a bit as I do. Don’t want to make too much noise, you know? Anyway, I keep going, moving toward the sound of this woman. She’s really cutting loose, almost screaming. It’s… it’s hard to hear that stuff. Same way with Receiver Garry; I feel this tightness in my chest as I get closer to the grate.

I find myself staring into a room. It’s an apartment, yeah, a lot like mine. Just, it definitely looks a lot bigger and a lot cleaner. I think it’s the bedroom, but a door is open and looks out onto what I think is a living room. The color in here is red. Not just red, you know, but like this deep scarlet. There’s a woman sitting below me on a bed, leaning over with her hands and cradling her head. As her crying gets softer, I start to hear the sounds of, I dunno, I think it’s a violin, playing softly in the air. There’s no way to tell where it’s coming from, but it’s got a slow pace. A few other violins join it as they swell together in one high moment.

At the same time, a man screams from outside, scaring the woman. She nearly jumps out of the bed as he suddenly stumbles into the room, his fist pounding the wall.

“Stella,” he shouts, grinning at her as he runs his meaty hand through his wave of blond hair. “Stella, stop the crying! For heaven’s sake just stop the crying!”

“Stop it, George!” she screams back, turning and walking away before he jumps over to her. He grabs her with both his hands, this mad smile across his lips.

“Just take your medicine, Stella; it’ll make you feel better,” he says.

“I don’t want to feel better,” she replies, crying again as she shakes. “What’s the point? Why am I even trying?”

“Stella, if you don’t take your medicine, I’m going to report you to Security. What do you think will happen then?”

“You wouldn’t. You can’t. You know! You know what will happen.”

He’s breathing really heavy as he leans in to her, and I can barely make it out, but I hear it clear enough. “That’s right. They’ll put a needle up your vein and make sure you’re topped out with Creep. You want that, Stella? You want them to fill you up with it?’

What… the… hell?

She pushes him off with her hands, and he slams into the wall, his eyes wide with madness. “Time to take your daily, Stella. Time to take your daily.”

She breathes really heavily for a second, staring at him. Then she nods, walking to the nightstand. From the top shelf, she pulls out a bottle, tapping out two blue pills. For a second she stares down at them in her hand, then glances back at him. “A daily will do you.”

“That’s right,” he agrees, shaking his head as he smiles. “A daily will do you.”

Stella nods, then tilts her head back and pops the pills down her throat. For a moment nothing seems to happen, but George is waiting, the two of them staring at each other. Then Stella leans forward, letting out this huge wail. It’s like she’s about to start crying again, but it turns into this long, insane laugh. The sound of it bounces off the walls and through the vents, echoing over and over again until it’s rattling inside my eardrums. I cringe as it soaks into my bones, watching as the two of them stumble into each other’s arms, laughing like maniacs as they collapse into the bed. They lie there just laughing and laughing, like they’re not going to stop.

I can’t take it anymore. I start crawling away. Whatever they’re feeling, it’s too strong for them to notice any noise I might be making.

Recording Thirty One

I’m starting to think that I was wrong about Sec Tech.

I’ve always assumed that the really supersecret technology they find below Floor 21 had something to do with whatever was outside the tower. I thought it might have been, I dunno, like, secret military stuff that was full of ways to fight the Creep. Or something.

Yeaaaah, well, maybe not.

I’m sitting here, and I watch these guys in the hallway. As they walk by, a screen just flares to life overhead. Except, the thing is, there wasn’t a screen there before. Images just start showing out of thin air, and everybody passes by like it’s nothing. It looks like some sort of commercial, with a bunch of ads for stuff like watches and decorations for homes. You know, the sort of things we can’t have down below unless they find it during the Scavenging.

About the floating screen. First of all, what? We’ve got nothing like that on any of the lower levels. I’ve never even heard of technology close to that, so it’s got to come from somewhere else. Only thing I can think of is that it’s technology they brought up from way down in the Deep Creep.

Situation number two. I watch and see one person kinda just walk up to the wall and touch it. That’s all it takes for it to light up with a screen and all these buttons. Then she just talks to it, like it can hear her.

Thing about it is, it does.

Out of the wall, I hear the words, “Whose location would you like to know?”

She says, “Timothy Dalton, please. Authority number 1178.”

It doesn’t even take a second before the wall responds, “Timothy Dalton is located in the library of hallway 15, east wing.”

“Thank you.” Then she turns and walks away as the screen fades out. The wall’s white again, so you can’t even tell that there was some sort of control system there just a second ago. Things are literally popping out of nowhere on Floor 1.

My attention is grabbed by the floating images above, which suddenly show an image of a man. He’s an older guy but pretty handsome, with these real strong jawbones and, I dunno, this aura that puts a shiver down your back. More than anything it’s his silver eyes that get to you. They shine out of his face, and you feel as if he really is looking at you. Then he fades out and the word “AUTHORITY” suddenly scrolls by. It fades into white and gets replaced by an image of those blue pills. A voice, the same that makes the morning announcements, suddenly fills the air.

“Don’t forget. When you’re feeling stressed or tense, Authority is here for you. Need to put your mind at ease from the grind of daily living? Don’t forget your Voluptas is always available from multiple locations throughout every wing. Voluptas. Just a daily will do you.”

Then the pill fades into white, and the commercials resume. Voluptas. So, they take it to deal with stress.

Stress? They’re living in paradise. What could stress you out here?

Recording Thirty-Two

It’s a dang slap in the face that these people think they’re stressed. Yeah, I’m still pissed about it.

So as I’m crawling around on my stomach, I start to get a new scent. This one’s not like what I smelled around the pool. It’s really different, actually. It’s sweet, and fresh.

It just might be the best dang thing I’ve ever smelled in my life.

Yeah, so I’m excited. I start to push forward a little faster ’cause I want to see where this smell is coming from, and ahead of me I see a grate in the vents. A lot of light is coming in, so I slide up to the edges to get a look outside.

What the heck, man? Are you for freaking for real?

They’ve got a forest. Inside the Tower!

Well, forest might be a bit too strong of a way to put it, but they’ve got a lot of trees. I’m not talking, like, those pathetic things on the lower floors that look like they’re struggling just to stand up. These are tall, strong oaks with broad arms and thick chests. The color on their leaves, oh my God, I can’t even describe it. I’ve never seen green that’s so… that’s so… green! From where I am, I can see over most of the room—I’d guess you’d call it more of a park—and at the center is this water fountain with a bunch of benches around it. The roof is a lot like the pool room, with “glass” that looks onto blue skies. I think the roof might be one gigantic television or something.

There’s more than a few people sitting around the fountain, all adults. No kids, which is weird, you know? I’d figure they’d be the ones that’d want to be here most. Still, as I’m watching, something’s just a bit… off. All the people sitting around here look happy, just… a bit too happy. They’re laughing, but they’ve practically been laughing since I got here. It’s weird. Soon one of the men gets up off the bench and starts, like, prancing around the fountain. The best word I can use here is manic. They’re all laughing like idiots, but this guy’s something else. He’s jumping on the edge of the fountain, nearly screaming his laughs as he looks up at the roof. His feet slide along the moist stone edges he’s standing on, and he tips and rocks for a second, throwing his hands into the air as he teeters at the edge of falling in. He’s almost literally laughing his head off as he plunges into the water.

This fountain… it’s not deep.

Guy comes up, holding his head kinda funny, and I can’t see too close but I can tell he’s bleeding. Must’ve hit himself on the stone at some point. Everyone’s closing in around him, reaching out to him like they’re concerned, but they never stop laughing. Suddenly a bunch of footsteps are interrupting the trickling of the fountain. It’s the sound of heavy boots, and I can guess just by the sound who they are. The green and white environment is suddenly filled by black armored guys that move toward the bleeding man. The guy’s friends around him start throwing themselves at Security, lunging at them and trying to prevent them from taking away the wounded guy.

This bunch of Security, though. They’re different.

They’re huge.

So, Allison’s dad. Big, muscly guy. Same thing with Tommy, who’s most def a future Security member. The guys I’m seeing right now are something else. They’re all seven feet tall and wide as mountains. Also? You can’t see any of their faces. They all have, like, gas masks on. That usually only happens at nighttime on the lower floors, so this is weird. All they have to do is shrug, and they’re throwing these people off, tossing them into the grass like they’re throwing out dead leaves.

Then they wrap their giant hands around the bleeding dude and haul him out, practically yanking his arm from its socket when they do.

Nobody ever stops laughing.

Recording Thirty-Three

When I start thinking about Stella, I get really uncomfortable. Just, I don’t know what was going on with her and George, but things didn’t seem right. At first he looked like he was going to hit her unless she took that Voluptas stuff, but I’m not sure whether you’d want to get slapped or take a pill that jacks with your brain. My stomach starts to knot up, and I start to shiver. It takes me a second to calm down, because I’d hate to live in a world where how I feel is supposed to be treated with just a pill. What’s the point of living if you’re supposed to forget how you feel?

I’m still shaking as I take the next turn, moving toward what sounds like fingers typing away at keyboards. I’m looking for anything that might be, I dunno, scientific, so I try to find my way to the sound. Slowly I come to a vent overlooking what seems to be a really sterile, white room. There are a bunch of computers on one side, and there’s a guy strapped to a chair in the middle. He’s got restraints over his wrists and around his ankles, and his mouth is covered with a black band. Guy looks like total crap. He’s sweating, like, almost as bad as I am.

There’s another guy at the door. Judging by the tactical vest and the rifle he’s holding, he’s Security. As if the gas mask and his giant stature didn’t give him away. Finally, there’s one last guy. He’s some thin, scrawny-looking dude, like he grew up tall but never put on any weight. Anyway, he’s got a lab coat on, so I’m guessing he’s in the Science department. Didn’t realize that Science got to come up to Floor 1. I’m not saying they don’t; I’m just saying how the hell am I supposed to know how this works?

Whatever. Point is, I’m watching this Science guy walking between the computers, then checking the man’s restraints. He starts to talk. “Begin recording. Doctor Rivera, Tower Date 515.14.21. I am currently receiving a patient into custody to begin Reinforcement. The patient is from Floor 7 and has been tried and found guilty of spreading rumors of Angels in violation of the Speech Code. Security apprehended the patient on Floor 14, presumably trying to evade detection. Trial was held yesterday and concluded within two hours. Recommended sentencing is Reinforcement. Recording pause.” This guy, Rivera, looks up at the Security dude. “What Reinforcement’s done without Creep, though, right?”

The Security officer grunts and laughs, the two of them chuckling as the doctor returns to the side of the “patient.” Whatever the hell that means. “Recording resume. The patient in question will receive an injection from Creep samples retrieved from Floor 15. This makes the sample of moderate strength. Anticipated reaction is that the patient will incur euphoric and moderately strong hallucinogenic reactions. Once the Creep has bonded with his brain, he will, of course, produce an elevated degree of endorphins and dopamine over the course of the next year. This will make him happier and more compliant though, as always, the chemical changes to his brain place him at risk of death. However, in cases where Creep strains of this variety have been used, death occurs in less than twenty percent of all patients.”

I watch as the doctor moves to the wall and taps at a few buttons. Within a second a panel slides away and a tray slides out. Even from here I can tell what I’m looking at. The stuff’s like pure muscle covered in splotchy skin. Creep. It’s kinda disgusting seeing it in light as bright as this. For the first time in my life, I’m actually looking at it pretty clearly. It quivers a bit, like it’s reacting to Rivera’s presence. Even the doctor seems a bit hesitant as he approaches it.

“Got to be careful with this stuff,” he says as he picks up a needle from a nearby tray. “You remember what happened to Doctor Carson.”

The Security guy nods. “Whatever happened to him?”

“Well, we couldn’t get him out of the Creep. It wrapped him up so quick that he wasn’t able to breathe. Your brain really doesn’t do well without oxygen for more than a minute or two.”

“Damn. That sucks.”

“Yes. It’s not like this tower’s abundant with doctors.” He shakes his head, breathing in. “Ah well. That’s what happens when you get careless.” Rivera angles the needle toward the Creep, putting the sharp tip at the skin and plunging it inward.

It screams.

God. I don’t know how, but it lets loose this piercing screech that makes my teeth hurt. I can’t help but suck in my breath when it happens, then slap a hand across my mouth. For a moment Rivera pauses, looking around. Even the Security guy tenses up, raising his gun as he takes a step forward into the room. So, for the longest moment, I don’t breathe. I just sit and wait, watching as they look around. They’re trying to find out if they really heard what they think they heard.

Then the Creep screeches again, and Rivera’s eyes whip back to its surface. He quickly fills the syringe with, I don’t know how to put it, blood, I guess. It’s blackish purple, and it comes streaming out until the doctor’s got a full sample in that needle of his. He yanks backward as the Creep suddenly shivers, jolting toward him with a long, fleshy stalk it generates from its skin. Rivera jumps out of the way, just missing the blow, while the Security guy slams the button near the sliding panel. The sample vanishes back into the wall, and Rivera is left standing there, panting. He doubles over, heaving for a moment before he stands back up.

“See what I’m talking about?” he asks as he regains his composure. “It just takes one second of hesitation. You can’t play around with this stuff.”

Again the Security guy nods, but he’s pretty clearly freaked out, too. Hell, from where I am in the vent, all I want to do is scream. I keep a lid on it, though. Literally, I never take my hand off my mouth because I don’t want to risk losing it. I’m just seconds away from waking the dead if I don’t keep my mouth jammed. Still, I’m able to hold it together as I watch Rivera walk back to the patient’s side. The poor guy in the chair is starting to slam back and forth, but the restraints won’t let him loose, and every time he tries to talk, his voice is muffled by the strap around his mouth. I can’t help but think of Danny. Did he have to go through this?

Rivera yanks up the man’s sleeve. “Proceeding with the injection,” he says, leaning close to the guy’s arm. “Hold still, you idiot. This will go a lot worse for you if I mess this up.”

That doesn’t seem to do much to calm the guy down, and he keeps trying to scream as he struggles against his restraints. Rivera puts the tip of the needle to the guy’s upper arm, its edge sinking into the guy’s skin, and I watch as the purplish black liquid inside shoots into the prisoner’s body.

Then, for the first time since I’ve arrived here, someone sees me.

I can tell. He’s looking straight at me, his eyes wide and desperate as he tries to shout for help. He wants me to do something. He wants me to get out of the vent, take down Security, and free him from his restraints. I couldn’t do that if I wanted to. Instead, I have to watch as the whites of the man’s eyes suddenly surge with a blackish color, his body going rigid for a second as he just wails, and I can almost feel his pain from where I’m hiding. His screaming stops as Doctor Rivera pulls the needle from his arm. For a few minutes the man is stuck, his every muscle tensed up. Then he goes limp, the whites of his eyes returning as he collapses back into the chair.

I really wish I wouldn’t have seen this.

Recording Thirty-Four

I’m recording from my room. I don’t know what to say about what I’ve seen today. When I got back home, Mom was acting as if she didn’t care that I’d been forever. For the first time in my life, I paid attention to her kinda crazy behavior and just… I took notes. Mentally. She’s always done this thing where, like, even if the circumstances are bad, she finds a way to be deliriously happy. That’s how it always is with her. She’s either depressed and crazy, or ecstatic and a little less crazy.

Now, I can’t help but think of that woman Stella whenever I look at Mom.

I retreated to my room when I got home and spent the rest of the day there. As far as I can tell, nobody noticed I was gone. When I got back, I exited through the same grate I’d used to travel up to Floor 1. I didn’t notice anything unusual then. From what I saw, nobody’d even come back to the Cleanup closet. Guess it was a good day for the Cleanup crew. I’d guess any day where you don’t have to mop up vomit is a good day, though.

Anyway, I thought about telling Allison about what I saw. But what would I say? I’d be putting her life in danger. So, for now, I’m just keeping this to myself. Poor Danny, though. I mean, if he had to go through that.

That’s probably the part I regret most about everything. The fact that I saw a guy get injected and didn’t do anything. I dunno, it’s just… damn. I felt helpless. You always kinda think back on what you could’ve done, but really, if I’d tried to help, then Security would have put me down. That wouldn’t have helped anyone.

Maybe there’s some way I can tell other people about this, though. Let them know what’s going on up there. Who knows? Maybe I can even go back sometime. Find some new dirt on what’s happening on Floor 1. Do you know how pissed everyone would be to find out how nice they’re living up there? Not to mention the whole, you know, injecting people full of Creep thing. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll head back up there next week and get some new dirt on this whole mess. Then I’ll find a way of telling people without getting myself taken into Reinforcement. Hm. Yeah, that’s it. Maybe I can put out a newsletter or something.

God. That’s a pathetic idea. I need something that would really get people’s attention.

Hold on. Somebody’s knocking at my door. Probably Mom. Or, hopefully, Dad. Suddenly I don’t care how weird they are. I just want them to be okay.

Recording Thirty-Five

I watched as two men from Security came into my room. They didn’t even wait for me to open the door.

Anyway, that’s how I ended up here, back on Floor 1. This time I walked through the front door. Strange thing about it is, the golden number “1” on the doorway in the stairwell looks so cheap in comparison to the hallways inside.

Even if I’m about to get my mind wiped, at least I got to see the inside of the halls this time. They’re a lot more gorgeous when you actually get to walk through them, and I saw things I didn’t get a chance to when I was trying to work my way through the vents. Like, the paintings. We don’t have many of those on my floor, or anywhere else. Floor 1’s got them on every wall. Fun fact? The paintings change images. At least some of them do, anyway. I saw it happen when they were marching me to my cell.

Can I just talk about that real quick? Why do they make prisoners come to a dingy cell after walking through this hallway that looks like paradise? Are they purposely trying to depress you before they shoot you up full of Creep?

I dunno. It sucks, though. Sucks that the only time in your life that you get to see this place is right before they do… whatever it is that happens when you get Creep shot to the brain.

God. Of course, this would happen to me.

The worst part of it was being watched like I was an animal. There were people in the halls, and they just pointed and talked about me like this was just another day in paradise. I mean, come on, people! You’ve got a seventeen-year-old girl getting led to a brainwashing. Isn’t anyone going to help?

That’s rhetorical, by the way. The answer is no.

Whatever.

They let me keep my recorder, so, that’s something. Although I get the impression I’m not going to want to use it much once I get Reinforced.

If it sounds like I’m pretty relaxed about this whole situation, well, that’s because I’m desperately trying to keep myself from crying. Cavalier is my default under pressure, but this is a lot even for me.

This sucks.

The cell sucks, too. Once you get hauled through this gorgeous, white-painted hallway, they throw you into this small, cramped room. No windows, all gray walls. I’m persistently disagreeing with my surroundings as I look around. It’s like living in an apartment on Floor 15.

I kid. Not really.

One of the guys from Security mentioned that I’d get a trial before I was Reinforced. Uh, thanks, bud. What’s the point of a trial if everyone knows you’re going to be pronounced guilty anyway? Maybe it makes them feel better about what they do. I dunno.

All I know is that my hands are like slick oil spills, my voice feels like a dehydrated apple, and my eyes are burning as if someone jammed hot peppers in them. It’s been a long time since I just wanted to be at home with Mom and Dad.

Recording Thirty-Six

The courtroom is surprisingly impressive. I watch as this guy takes a seat on an elevated chair in front of me. He looks kinda like a wizard, like, he’s got this white beard that drops down to his chest. I almost laugh at his squirrelish eyebrows—then I remember my life’s on the line. That’s enough to make anyone shut up.

So we don’t really do trials in the Tower. At least, not on any of the other floors. All crimes are handled by Security, and any serious violation gets a person taken to Reinforcement. You can probably imagine that most people try really, really hard not to do anything that’ll get them taken in. Well, most people try not. Apparently I actively do attempt to get into trouble.

This is the culmination of a life committed to being a misfit, though, I guess. What is it that people say? Curiosity kills the cat?

Yeah, well, my nine lives are up.

There’s a row of Security behind me, this wizard guy in a white suit in front of me, and a couple of older, white-clothed men and women on either side of me. The room’s big enough that I’m not claustrophobic, but small enough that I can make out the pores on their skin. It’s like they wanted to give you enough room to breathe but still make you feel intimidated.

It works.

They’re talking among themselves as Mr. Big Shot gets himself comfortable in his chair. For the first time, I notice the sign hanging behind him. It’s this big, brass plaque, lined around its edge with a ring of stars. Inside that ring is a series of towers, and written in a language I don’t understand are the words E Pluribus Unum. Well, that’s pretty mysterious.

One of the Security guys yanks me up out of the chair. He’s way too strong for me to resist, I mean, he practically lifts me up single-handedly. He looks around to everyone and almost shouts, “All rise for his highest honor, Judge Reaver.”

Everyone gets up to this, bowing their heads for a second as the old guy in the single chair stands up, bowing to both sides of the room. Then everyone sits down all at once. The Security guy holding me up practically throws me back into the chair. Jerk. I scowl at him as he walks away, but notice that the old guy… So, he’s the one I should call judge?… the judge looks at me, those wrinkled hands of his running through his beard as he talks.

“We begin this session on Tower Date 515.14.21. May the Builders smile upon us and this honorable court.”

“Here, here,” everyone else says in agreement. Not me, though. Obviously.

“Young woman, you stand before this court accused of some of the most egregious violations possible within the Tower. As of this date, you are charged with a Violation of Movement in the Highest Degree, a Violation of Speech in the Highest Degree, and a Violation of Thought in the Highest Degree. To all these charges listed, what say you?”

I look around, like… are you serious? For real? “Obviously, Your Honor, I plead, ‘I don’t know what the hell is going on.’ I don’t know what these charges mean, so don’t I get at least, like, an explanation?”

“Ignorantia legis neminem excusat,” the court says all at once, and I just look around, like, do these people rehearse this on their free time? I almost want to laugh. They’re actually serious. So what am I supposed to say?

I shrug. “Guys, give me at least one break. Something, please. I don’t even know what that means. I’ve lived in the Tower my whole life and never heard whatever that weirdo language is that you’re speaking.”

The judge stares at me and nods. “Your ignorance betrays your ignorance. To translate, those words mean that ‘ignorance of the law excuses no one.’ You know the essential rules of the Tower. Nobody speaks of Angels. Nobody comes to Floor 1 without invitation. Nobody is allowed to think of resisting the Authority in any concerted effort. Behaviors such as these threaten the stability of the Tower.”

“Yeah, I get that, but even if I haven’t ever been to a trial, I’ve at least seen some movies. Plus, if you’re not going to tell me the rules about how to do this trial thing, then you’re going to just have to put up with some of my ‘ignorance.’ I mean, is it ignorant to ask whether or not you can even prove I did anything?”

Reaver seems to be getting a real kick out of watching me squirm, and that jerkface smile of his really bothers me as he says, “That is why we first ask you to plea. Yea guilty, or nay not guilty. There can be no presentation of evidence if you have not yet put in your plea. As for being ignorant of the process of our trials, well, I will guide you.”

“Oh, well, that’s real comforting. So, I’m supposed to plead yea guilty or nay not guilty?” Duh. What else am I going to plea? “Nay not guilty, for reasons.”

“So be it. The plea has been entered into our records; may they stand until Tower’s end. Prosecutor Davis, if you please.”

Another man steps up from out of the seated group. He’s definitely younger, but, still, around his late forties. I notice for the first time something funny about these guys. The judge is the only person here wearing what you could call “normal” clothes. It’s a suit, like the kind that even we have on my floor. The material’s just a lot fancier. This guy, though, Prosecutor Davis, he’s wearing this, I dunno, bodysuit. It fits him really close to his skin. You’d be able to see every outline if not for the fact that he has a kinda jacket over his chest, but everything he’s wearing looks like it’s made out of plastic or something. At least the judge’s clothes look like, you know, they’re made out of cotton. So, for the first time since I came to Floor 1, I put something together in my head. I’ve seen something similar to these outfits before.

You know. Back on Floor 8. The Angel.

I shake it out of my head. If there’s something I don’t want to think about right now, it’s that. I’ve got to focus. It’s my neck here, you know, so I really can’t afford to be distracted. Anyway, Prosecutor Davis walks over to the wall by the judge and taps at it. A screen pops to life… but where did it come from? It’s like an image just starts showing on the wall. There’s no television or anything required.

“Your honor,” Davis says, “earlier today, this video was taken from the interior of the junction ventilation shaft leading from Floor 2 onto Floor 1.”

I’m watching this with them, obviously. I think they must have used some sort of robotic camera, but, whatever. This view comes to a stop by a ledge, then extends and leans over the side. It’s staring down the shaft and right onto that fan blade I busted. In my head I’m laughing because I knew that thing would cause me trouble.

The judge turns to me, and he’s a stone-cold statue. Guess I prefer that to angry. “What say you to this?” he asks.

“Pretty much that anyone could have done that.”

“Hm. I agree.” He turns to the lawyer. “Prosecutor Davis, do you have anything more concrete that could identify this young woman as the person responsible for breaking the fan blade?”

“Of course, Your Honor,” he says as he taps at the wall again. Now there’s a camera looking down the hall on Floor 4. I recognize what we’re looking at, and it’s not great. “As you can see, less than a minute into this video, the young woman enters this Cleanup closet on hallway 4-5. This is in the early morning.” He taps the corner of the screen, and the video starts running. There’s also a timer in the upper right. As the seconds tick by, yeah, you see me heading down the hall. Because I did. My smirk is obvious because it’s funny seeing myself knocking at the door of the closet. I wait for an answer, but I’m also looking all around to see if Security’s coming. When nobody does, I disappear inside. “The accused proceeded to enter the closet shortly before Reception. She would not leave that closet until close to evening.” The video seems to fly by, and when it resumes, it’s of me coming out. I look like a hot mess, just doused in sweat. The video pauses as I get close to the camera, and you can see my clothes are pretty much sticking like hot glue to me. “As the court can see, she entered the closet and was gone for several hours. During that time the destruction of the fan near Floor 1 occurred. Before the accused was taken into custody, Security investigated the closet in question, only to find that a ventilation access had been tampered with.”

The judge nods to all this, like he approves. I’m still confused because I can’t figure out if he’s on my side or not. “Damning evidence indeed, Prosecutor Davis. Accused, do you have any response to this?”

I shake my head. “So, I’m not really sure what response you want me to give. I mean, you’ve got video of me going into a closet. Great. But, uh, where’s the proof I broke the fan? I mean, maybe I’m not the only one running through those vents. Ever thought of that? Maybe there’s, like, a whole society of vent crawlers going up and down the Tower. Think it might be a good idea to look into that first? Because all I’m saying is that even if I did go in the vents, that doesn’t mean anything. You can’t actually prove that it was me, and maybe you should check some of the other floors to see who else was breaking in through the Cleanup closets.” As I’m saying all this, I patently recognize that my argument isn’t what you would call revolutionary, but hey, I’m just trying to buy myself some time here.

Still, at least the judge kinda seems to agree. He nods and turns to the prosecutor. “Can we know for sure that there aren’t others also prowling through the vents?”

“No, Your Honor,” he says.

“So, she may or may not have been the person that made their way onto Floor 1?”

“With all due respect, she is our most likely suspect.”

“Still, likeliness doesn’t necessarily mean guilt, does it?”

At this point I’m thinking, hey, maybe I was wrong. This dude’s not so bad. He’s no monster. He’s actually kinda, you know, defending me.

Prosecutor Davis turns away for a second as he says, “The evidence, at this point, leans heavily against her. We have yet to find any other ventilation grates that were removed in this fashion.”

“Prosecutor, what’s the current population of the Tower?”

Now the judge has this guy squirming, and Davis pulls at his collar a little. “Well, Your Honor, I don’t know off the top of my head. I believe the last estimate was that we have roughly 15,000 people living on the upper and lower levels combined, and only because so much of the Tower has been converted to living space.”

“I see. So, despite the sheer size of the Tower and the number of people living here, we know for a fact that the accused was the only person that was active in the vents on the day in question?”

Now Davis backs off as his face lights up like a cherry. “No, Your Honor. As I said, though, she is the most likely suspect.”

“You may say so. I will be the final judge of that.” He grunts, turning in his chair slightly. “Do you have anything else to present?”

“Of course, Your Honor.” Davis taps on the wall again. “I’d like to present to the court some recordings of the defendant. These are the accused’s own words, in her own voice.”

My curiosity doesn’t exist for more than a split second before my teeth clench together like an impenetrable wall. It’s painful to hear as my voice begins to pour out of the speakers. “But I see someone there, dressed in all white. They’ve got their back to me, and it looks like they’re messing with something in the wall… Whatever she’s wearing is skintight, but the worst part is when she suddenly looks up from whatever she’s doing. She’s noticed me. Then she turns.”

Davis steps away from the judge and over to me. “Would you like me to play for the court your other words?”

This guy. My teeth dig into my lip for a second before I say to him, “Go ahead, jerk.”

He just gives me that smug look of his. “If the court would allow me to play some of your other words from this recording?”

Judge Reaver nods pretty quickly to the offer. He wants to hear this, even if I don’t want to. “Please proceed. It’s in the best interest of this case, after all.”

Davis’ finger taps at the screen and I cringe as I hear my voice playing again. I remember pretty clearly saying the words that start coming out of the speakers: “I can’t deal with Angels. I can’t. I can’t.”

That’s all that plays but the prosecutor smiles like a dumb dog as he talks. “Well, it seems that you are, clearly, guilty of talking about Angels. I believe the entire court can determine that on the basis of your own recording. Or are you going to argue that it’s someone else’s voice we are listening to?”

I’m not sure what bothers me more, that he played my recording back, or that he had my recording in the first place. How were they spying on me? “Okay now, look,” I say. “Sure, I said those things. But I wasn’t talking to anyone. I was recording myself. Those were just my own thoughts. When I was recording it, I thought that I’d go crazy if I didn’t, you know, try and say what I was thinking. I know what happens to people when they talk about Angels. I only recorded what happened because if I didn’t, I was going to end up telling someone. If you’d just seriously stop and think about it, you’d see I was trying to follow the Tower rules.”

Judge Reaver interrupts me. “Young lady, the rule against speaking of Angels is not a rule against speaking of them to others. The rule against speaking of Angels is a rule against speaking of them, period. There is to be no talk of Angels, at all, in any capacity.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“Ignorantia legis neminem excusat,” these idiots say all at once again, but I just don’t care anymore.

When I talk I wrestle with my own voice just so I don’t start shouting. “Are all of you really going to pretend as if everything’s peaches down in the Tower? I mean, you honestly think that I’m the only person getting curious about what happens here on Floor 1, or why we can’t go below Floor 21? Do you think I’m the only person that’s thought about sneaking around to see why we can’t get out of this Tower?”

Reaver’s eyes carve into mine. “Who else, then?”

I don’t really get the question at first. “What’s that?”

“Who else is involved with traveling in the vents? Or with going beyond the bounds of the lower floors?”

“That… you’re missing the point. There’s lots of smart people in the Tower, so I can’t be the only person that’s curious. You know that’s true, I mean, there are people talking about Angels out loud to each other. We all know that. There was a guy on Floor 7 that got taken in by Security for discussing it. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, either; he was just going on and on about it. At least I tried to keep it quiet, and so, yeah, I’d like to think I’m not just another dumb teen just trying to play snitch. What do I have to get out of it?”

For a second he stares at me through these dark eyes. They’re like bits of coal stuffed into a shaggy white carpet. Nobody says anything while they wait on the judge, and then, finally, he strokes his beard. He does this just one time and then gives me a creepy laugh. “There is no excuse for anyone. Anyone. However, there may be some… leniency. Of course, leniency also rests on what other evidence might be presented against you.” He looks back at the prosecutor. “Continue.”

Davis bows a little. What a suck-up. “Yes, Your Honor,” he says as his cocky trot takes him back to the wall. “The court has already established that the accused talked openly about Angels, and it is highly likely that she used the vents to make her way to Floor 1. If nothing else, she must have used alternative means of getting around to some other parts of the Tower. There would be no other purpose or way of vanishing into a Cleanup closet for hours. Avoiding Security, who nobly battle daily against threats to this Tower, is clearly an act that should be punishable. We know, though, that the worst crime against the Tower is to plot against the Tower. Every member of this respectable court knows that Violation of Thought is the direst criminal charge in our laws. It is so deep a violation because it is defined by the worst type of crime: thinking of resisting the order of the Tower.

“We know the reason our laws are in place. Without them we would devolve into chaos. The Creep would consume what remains of us as a people. There’s no argument to this. All of us, every single one, are aware of the Hellverses. If we resist the natural order of our society, if we introduce chance into our system, we will lose the war to stem the Creep from inching upon our homes and lives. The only way to survive is to obey the rules of the Tower, as our parents did, and their parents did, and so on for centuries. Anything less, and the Hellverses will come true. As one of the most famous of them says, we will stumble into the Darkness. Isn’t that the key? That if we break the rules we have followed so long that we will return, downward, into the depths of the Tower? Isn’t that the very reason that our people are forbidden to plunge any deeper than Floor 21? Because if we do, ‘the light of the tower will be snuffed out.’ We remain apart from the Darkness by following the rules that the Builders laid out for us. If we break even one, we risk returning to it. And so, the greatest violation that one can commit is to openly risk rebellion. However, followed closely behind that violation is the crime of thinking of rebelling. Why? Because thought leads to action.”

My fingers dig into the sides of my chair. “What the hell sort of rule is that? You can’t think about questioning Tower Authority or doing better than living in this Tower? This is seriously all we’re ever supposed to know about ourselves? So what, we’re just born on our floors and get told what we’re going to do our whole lives, because that’s what our parents did and that’s what we’re always supposed to do?”

“See?” Davis asks the crowd, jabbing a finger into my face. “The girl openly admits she wishes to defy the Tower Authority, and while we cannot say for sure she violated Floor 1, we do know that she has used the vent access to avoid the Security that guards us with their lives. Every small action she takes builds upon the other, and she demonstrates exactly the type of character and behavior that could plunge us into ruin.”

“Hey. Your name’s Davis, right? So just tell me, how long have we been here? Huh? Any clue? How long have we been in this Tower? How’d we get here? Why? What’s the Darkness? What’s the Creep? What’s at ground level? Do you actually have any answers, or do you really think that we’re going to survive by just waiting around to die? Because if we’ve been here for centuries and nothing’s changing, then one day we’re not going to be able to keep going. We can’t keep relying on the Scavenging forever. We have to try and get to the ground. That’s the only way we’re going to live.”

The room explodes as Prosecutor Davis grins like an idiot. Or maybe I’m the idiot for saying what I said. He turns his back to me and walks away, practically basking in all the protests—and then Judge Reaver gets to his feet. His eyes have gone wide, and for the first time, he looks really emotional. Not in a good way. Dude’s angry.

Really angry.

He holds his hands up, silencing everyone. Davis starts to say something, but the judge just shoots him this death stare and he snakes away to his seat. I’m the one that’s not off the hook, though. The old judge takes a few steps toward me, his eyes just burning into mine.

“Young woman,” he says, “what do you know of the Creep?”

“Well, uh, basically what everyone else knows, I guess. I mean, it lives at the bottom of the Tower, and once in a while it moves higher, but that’s what we have Security for. You’ll trip hard if you touch it, which is pretty obvious to anyone that’s been on the lower levels.” I stop for a second, trying to think about everything I know about the Creep. Truth is, nobody knows much. “I kinda think that’s really all I know.”

“Do you know it can grow angry? That it can quickly spread upward into the upper floors?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ve heard stories. I mean, two years ago I was having this birthday party when they put us into lockdown. The Creep was apparently coming up the stairwell. Thing is, I never really found out how fast it was moving or why. But, I did notice the next day that some people were missing. So that’s how I know the Creep can get upset.”

“Indeed.” He paused, his black eyes like endless pools. “What makes the Creep angry? How? Do you have any idea?”

“Uh, that I don’t know.”

“Why is it we only allow a very few to go beneath Floor 21?”

“See, that I still don’t know.”

“But you do know the Creep reacts to the presence of people. That it can cause hallucinations.”

“Yeah. You start to see the Demons when you touch it.”

He nodded. “Now tell me. To what degree does the Creep infest the lower levels?”

“Well, not too much. I mean, enough to be disgusting, but not enough to, like, cause trouble.”

“And you’ve never thought that perhaps it’s the number of people in an area that causes a reaction from the Creep?”

I start munching on my lip again. What’s he implying? “I guess not.”

“Indeed, it is the very presence of large numbers of people that might anger the Creep. It is one of the primary reasons that we prohibit any dwellings lower than Floor 21. It is not the only reason, but the others are none of your concern. The larger point is that we cannot afford to introduce too many people into the Creep at once. If we do, well, such action is quite likely to provoke it. And provoking it can lead to incidents such as the one you must remember from last year.”

The court goes silent, everyone from Prosecutor Davis to the people all around me. It’s pretty surreal to be sitting there in a glaringly white room while a bunch of white-suited people stare at you, a light brighter than any sun you’ve seen staring down on you while guards watch you from the doors. The worst part? The silence. Nobody says anything while they wait for me. For one of the few times in my life, I don’t have a snappy response.

Finally I manage to start talking, but my throat’s breaking, and my lips feel like they’re coated in grit and sand. I cough and try to get my words out. “So, uh… so… you’re saying that when that event happened… on my birthday… we might have caused it? That we sent down too many people?”

“It is not the purpose of this court to say.”

“But you’re practically telling me that the reason we can’t leave is because if we send too many people below Floor 21, we’ll get the Creep angry. So why can’t we just send a few at a time? You know, try and, like, get people out in bursts?”

“It is not the purpose of this court to say.”

Damn. “Okay, so, fine. We just stay up here our whole lives. I go back to wondering how we got up here in the first place. And the worst part is nothing ever changes.”

Prosecutor Davis looks over to the judge, who nods. Reaver takes his seat again, breathing in deeply. “Something will change. Change is inevitable, even if it is not the change you might have sought. Change is necessary, though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I have reached my verdict.” He lowers his head, his fingers wrapping around the edges of his chair like a king on his throne. “I cannot hold you guilty for a Violation of Movement in the Highest Degree, which would require that we determine with certainty that you have indeed violated the prohibition of coming onto Floor 1. However, we know it is likely that you have circumvented Security by using the vents, so I hold you guilty for a lower degree. I cannot hold you guilty for a Violation of Speech in the Highest Degree because, indeed, I can see you attempted to refrain from telling others about nonsense such as Angels. However, if anyone had heard your recording, then they, too, might have thought the existence of Angels possible. So, I hold you guilty in a lower degree.”

What sort of penalty does being guilty in a lower degree get you? I don’t have time to think about it much as Judge Reaver continues.

“However, for a Violation of Thought in the Highest Degree, I unfortunately have no other choice but to hold you guilty for the crime of considering concerted effort against Tower Authority and its enforcement arm of Security. You would not have been guilty of this for the use of the vents as a means of movement alone, but combined with your outbursts today, it is clear that you have contemplated life outside the Tower. Perhaps you thought you might do this by exploring beneath Floor 21 on your own, or that you might sway others to resist Authority by convincing them of your views. While we cannot be certain of the degree to which you would choose to resist, there is no charge of Violation of Thought in any lower degree. Either you believe and support Tower Authority in its attempts to secure the safety of the people, or you do not. And unfortunately, it is clear that you do not. Perhaps there may have been alternatives for you if you’d simply violated a movement rule or part of the Speech Code, but for such a flagrant violation, among the worst that a person can commit in our community, we have no other choice but to sentence you to Reinforcement. The degree of Reinforcement is to last for five years, which will require annual return to Security so that the Reinforcement penalty may be reapplied. It is the hope of this court that through Reinforcement, you will come to learn and embrace the safety that Tower Authority provides for you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” I start to protest as Security surges into the corner of my eye. “Listen, I don’t want to start trouble, okay? I just wanted to know what’s down below the lower floors! Like any Scavenger does. That’s all I ever wanted to be was a Scavenger! Just, how about that, huh?” I gasp as two grizzly hands grab me by the arms and start to tug at me. A scream comes out of my mouth, and my panicked eyes go to Judge Reaver, but he just sits there. All around the room, everyone is starting to turn their backs to me, ignoring me while these two beasts start dragging me away. “Judge Reaver, please!” I scream one more time as they’re taking me to the door. “Just make me a Scavenger, and I’ll be happy! All I want to do is know more! Why is that wrong?”

Then they force me through the courtroom doors. I’m done.

Recording Thirty-Seven

So, this is gonna be my last recording.

They told me they’re going to come for me in about an hour. I’ve seen what Reinforcement does. I know what it looked like when they injected that guy full of it, and how much Stella didn’t want Reinforcement to happen to her. I know what Danny was like after he got out.

And apparently they’re going to be shooting me up with Creep for five years.

They said they’re going to take my stuff once they’re done. Why let me keep it—am I right? If I listen to my recordings later, then I’ll get suspicious again. Start asking questions. Then this whole mess will start over.

I think they just let me keep the recorder so I wouldn’t go nuts while I’m in here. Honestly, I think the room’s just a refurbished Cleanup closet. It makes me wonder who exactly does the Cleanup in a place like Floor 1.

I guess, before the end, I want to summarize my thoughts.

I can’t say it for sure, but I think Mom’s been having something like Voluptas. She goes through those crazy, manic phases and then depression. I could be wrong, just, her behavior is so like some of what I’ve seen here. I don’t know that she gets to have it regularly, but I know she’s also worked as a chemist, so if anyone could make the stuff, it’d probably be her. Someone’s got to make it, right?

Dad. I never got to see him again. What he does, where he went… I dunno. Suddenly I care again. I mean, I never really stopped caring. I just wanted him to be like the dad I remembered, but… right now I’d take any version of him. Doesn’t matter. I won’t be able to think about it in an hour.

Uh, so, I’m really not sure where I’d rather live. The lower floors get less food, cheaper clothes, worse conditions. Still, at least we don’t have to take that stuff. Voluptas. I already hate being told what to do and not to question anything. Can you imagine being given a pill that’s supposed to just make you… happy, somehow? Like you can just forget every terrible thing you’ve seen? And is it worth forgetting the bad things if you forget the good things, too?

God. That’s depressing. Because I’d rather know and be depressed than not know and be happy.

Floor 1 is the ultimate example of depressing, even if everything about the Tower is kinda crapsack. I get the feeling that people like Judge Reaver know a little more about why we’re here but just don’t really know the exact reason. In the court they said we’d been here centuries, and, apparently, there’s about 15,000 of us.

That’s a lot of people. I think I’ve mentioned that the Tower really is huge. I never really thought we had that many around, though.

Then again, it’s not like I count.

I found an air vent in here, but it’s too small to move through. No escape there. Too bad, since it plunges straight down. That’d be helpful right now because at least I’d be able to get off Floor 1. Even if I got tossed onto, like, Floor 20, at least I’d be able to hide. A tower this big? Yeah, there’s got to be somewhere people go on the run down there.

Right?

You’d think that, maybe, some people would escape to the lower levels. You know, get away from Tower Authority to where the Creep’s the worst.

Speaking of. I guess I won’t even care if or when Mike gets back. Mike. My only partner in crime. I super wish I’d had a chance to see one more movie with you. But, not time for that now.

So, I’m going to sit here and wait. There’s nothing else to do.

Just, as a final thought, I guess I’d like to say I kinda wish I’d spent some more time with my family. They’re not who I remember, but… I still love them. Yeah. I know that’s weird, huh? You spend your life as a teenager finding anyone else you’d rather want to be with, then end up wanting to see your parents right before you die.

Because even if I’m not going to be, like, physically dead, whoever I am right now isn’t going to survive.

Still, I want to know I had some purpose. Some way of knowing that whoever I am right now is remembered.

That’s why I’m going to force open that grate and toss this recorder down the vent. I kinda hope someone finds it, somehow, someday. That they learn that me, this Jackie, was alive. Maybe they even finish the investigation I’ve started and really find out what’s happening in this tower.

And even if they don’t, at least some part of who I am will survive. Because this recorder is the proof that I existed.

Well, I guess that’s all from the Jackie you know and love. That I know and love.

Good-bye.

THE SCAVENGER’S STORY

Commander Vick’s Report Number One

I would like to state, for the record, that I hate making these things. So, to all my superiors on Floor 1, please be aware that I make this recording under duress. I am, of course, partly joking. Still, in all seriousness, I know that you accepted me as a commander specifically because of my ability to make light of my circumstances. It’s the only way to stay sane in the Creep, after all. So, also for the record, do forgive what has been described to me by Councilman Waters as “a genuine and absolute disregard for the protocol of the Tower.”

He may not like me, but he knows that I do what’s most important: identify and procure materials necessary for the ongoing maintenance of the Tower.

Which is to say I find the candy bars his children like so much. That last sentence is off the record, though.

As per our typical protocol, we began readying ourselves for the Scavenging the night before it commenced. I mean, despite the fact that it’s a manufactured event created specifically to make people in the lower levels feel a little better about their lives, at least it does make them happy. I remember growing up that there wasn’t much I looked forward to like the Scavenging. So yes, I do, in fact, get quite a kick out of seeing kids happy about us heading out. Especially the younger ones. There’s just something about an eight- or nine-year-old boy or girl looking at you like you’re a superhero. I don’t do this for the praise, but I do get a sense of accomplishment from inspiring those kids. I used to be one of them, after all.

Preparations for the Scavenging went as normal. I’ve been on the record about this before, but I despise Commander Abbott’s approach to equipping his men when they head into the Creep. There’s a reason my fatality list is shorter than his. As a rule, Abbott likes to overload his men with ammo and armor. For the most part, none of that’s necessary. The Creep’s only violent once you get below about Floor 40, and even then there are simple steps you can take to avoid getting it angry. Actually, a man benefits from added mobility farther down the tower, more than heavy armor. In tight spaces, if the Creep does lash out, you need to be able to escape. All the ammunition in the world isn’t going to save you from a hallway full of that stuff if you get it agitated. I choose to give my men the best chance to live by leaving the bulky armor behind and focusing on speed and mobility.

Again, the numbers bear out my tactics. I want that on the record because I think someone needs to talk to Abbott about his methods. Obviously I’m not the one, since he’s technically above me as far as rank. But someone needs to do it.

Regardless, I don’t just leave the armor behind altogether. I simply prefer to have my men wear lighter tactical vests without all the additional ammunition, and I particularly try to avoid the larger Type IV armor he’s so fond of. That bulky junk will get you killed. I’ve seen a man get trapped in a tight, rubble-filled corridor when trying to escape from agitated Creep. You’ll excuse me if I prefer the lighter Type II protection. Strong enough to guard against shrapnel, some forms of bullets, and a few Creep tentacles, but not so bulky that you’ll get caught in the tight conditions that are prevalent in some of those hallways.

Weapon selection was fairly standard for the team. The miniature flamethrowers we use are, for all intents and purposes, a necessity for driving back particularly infested hallways. Besides those, every man was equipped with their standard sidearm as well as a carbine rifle. I’ve never said that rifles aren’t effective against the Creep, just that they’re not very effective if things get so bad that you’ve got the infestation growing rapidly.

At any rate, once we were all equipped, we settled in. The only time in our lives when we’re allowed to stay in the luxurious apartments of Floor 1 is the day before we leave for the Scavenging. Funny part about that has always been how little we’re actually allowed to see of Floor 1. A lot of Security is always around to escort us to our apartment, and whenever we have business with the council, they lead us straight there. Still, I’ve caught sight of those swimming pools they have. If I told people about that sort of thing, they’d have a freak-out. There’d also be a lot of people going to Reinforcement, so I keep my mouth shut. All of us do. Obedience to Authority is the only way to provide for the Tower’s Security.

Anyway, the night goes as usual. We sit around, discuss our prospects and how this mission’s going to go down. The Creep’s been unusually peaceful lately, so we don’t anticipate any trouble. Still, you can never let down your guard once you get below Level 21. My guys are pros, though. Nobody’s taking this lightly.

The next day we set out by early morning. Again, this is my favorite part of the entire experience. Per usual we walk north along the hallways, then double back around through southern corridors. And as usual, there’s just a huge turnout. I get a kick when I see those posters they hold up. This year they’ve come up with some new ones. They’re pretty amazing, too. They’ve got a picture of me on the front with the words “Vicious Vick” along the bottom.

Hah. Yeah, there are more than a few perks to being a Scavenger.

About the only concern I have with marching every hallway is the fact that it’s so drawn out. The first day of the Scavenging is basically a marching show through those halls so other people can see us. I mean, of course, we don’t do it after Floor 11, but marching around seven floors on this parade wipes out nearly the entire morning. We don’t usually get to the Floor 12 checkpoint until the early afternoon, and then, before we can even think about proceeding, we’ve got to make sure with Security that we’re all who we say we are.

Again, for the record, why? It’s a complete waste of time. But Tower Authority wants it, so of course, we do it. Authority knows why it does what it does, and our job isn’t to question. Our job is to follow our instructions. Still, by the time we’re actually proceeding on from Floor 12, it’s well into the afternoon. Then, of course, we can’t actually just go straight down into the Creep. There’s always the checkups we have to do.

Floor 12’s where you start to first see the signs of it, the small growths on parts of the wall or along the floorboards. It’s Floors 15 and 16 where things get disgusting. The stuff looks like it’s taking over the walls. I wonder why we just don’t take a flamethrower to it down there, but no, I’m not stupid. I know using it at these levels would just instigate an incident like we had last year, when we provoked the Creep into raging up the stairwell. Anyway, we document the growth level as usual. Of course, our presence serves double duty. On the one hand, we get to see what the Creep is looking like on the lower floors, but we also get to chat with the locals. That’s a lot more important than younger Scavengers realize. They think it’s a waste of time, but in reality it’s an important part about being a member of our order.

An important part that Commander Abbott doesn’t care about, but again, that’s off the record.

Being a Scavenger is about more than just finding new materials for the Tower to use. It’s also about being an inspiration to people that sometimes find their lives hopeless. Yes, I understand that everyone above Floor 11’s relatively okay, but you can’t afford to lose the support of the people on the lower levels. Lose them, and you lose the people that work as parts of Cleanup, Maintenance, Service, and all sorts of other things. These people only get to head up to the upper levels when they’re working, but, you know, sometimes it’s just getting out of the Creep that helps you preserve your sanity.

Especially since, by Floor 16, you start to see them—the Demons. Don’t get me wrong, the fear and paranoia you start to feel on the lower levels can be a mind-killer. Still, you can adjust to it. You start finding ways to compensate. Still, there’s no compensating for the shadows you start to see. On Floor 12 they start appearing, but they look like tricks of your environment, as if the lights in the hallway are flickering in places. It can catch you off guard, but it’s nothing you can’t deal with.

By Floor 16, though, those same shadows are taking shape. Not quite human, but… something. I’m not sure whether it’s worse when they disappear or when they stay put. There are times you could swear you’re looking at a shadow person down the hall, and the person just stares back at you. It’s really unsettling the first time you hit the lower levels. At least most of the time you catch these shadow people in the corner of your eye, so it’s not so bad.

On the record, I find it worse when they just stand there. Not all my men agree, but for me there’s nothing worse than seeing a shadowy figure just looking at you.

Then they move. They walk toward you. If you don’t stand your ground, get control of your mind, well, I’ve seen men lose it. Worse, I’ve had to put down men that panicked and started firing blindly into the air. Firing off your rifle like that can get the entire team killed. As much as I hate to say it, it’s better to just take out one panicked man than put the entire group at risk.

We do as much training with new Scavengers as possible to prevent this, of course. We’ll take them into the lower levels without weapons and teach them how to maintain discipline, control their breath, and lower their pulse. There are a lot of things you can do to help keep yourself cool. Because of all that training, most of the time we’re able to calm a panicking man down.

If he starts pulling that trigger, though… well, you only have one option.

At any rate, that’s why we document those hallways. Not every single one of them, of course. That would simply take too much time. But we do patrol enough area that we get to talk to the local people, hear their concerns, and give them some promise that we’ll be heading down below to find stuff that they can count on to arrive in their food boxes. You know and they know it won’t be much, but it’s the promise of something coming, the promise of something to look forward to, that makes them happy.

You would be surprised how powerful hope is on the human mind.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Two

The funniest part about passing through Floor 16 is definitely the story. Creepy Sally. I know the administrators on Floor 1 don’t particularly care about the legends down here, but the story of Creepy Sally is told throughout the rest of the Tower. It’s powerful, and it makes kids think twice before touching the Creep.

I’ve been scavenging for six years now, and I’ve never seen her. I’m not saying she doesn’t exist. I’m just saying that I, personally, have never laid an eye on her.

Still, the locals are pretty insistent about saying she exists. Normally you brush off this kind of talk because locals on every floor tell stories about someone they know or saw that got taken by the Creep. The thing is, we know what the Creep does to a person if they get trapped in it. They don’t change, they don’t get warped, and the stuff doesn’t grow on your skin. Again, six years of doing this, and I’ve never seen anything like that.

Now, I’m quite aware that it will lash out at you. It’ll even engulf you, and at that point, you’re almost guaranteed to die unless you survive the flamethrower we apply to get your body out. If so, count yourself lucky. People who get trapped in the Creep when it gets agitated normally suffocate.

What the Creep doesn’t do is grow on you. It doesn’t infect your skin or get into your blood. Of course, I’ve never chosen to barricade myself inside an infested room and waited to see if it’d attach to me, but we come across people on the lower levels that spend their lives in moderate Creep conditions.

No. They are most definitely not showing any signs of the Creep covering their bodies or any of that nonsense. Still, the people on Floor 16 are particularly insistent that Sally does exist. And I will admit, they have some rather interesting proof. In particular, the far western halls are littered with Security gear. Vests, clothing, gloves, that sort of thing. Security doesn’t simply take their clothes off to dump it in the hallways, and yet Tower Authority refuses to send a Cleanup crew to remove all of it. So, does that make me suspicious?

Well… slightly.

Of course, the stories of Creepy Sally are old. They were old, apparently, when I was a kid. Even my father remembered hearing them when he was young, so that means they go back at least three generations. Stories like these mean a lot more to people like me that actually had to grow up in the lower levels. I lived on Floor 16, so I knew more about Sally than most people. I knew you didn’t go into the west wing unless you wanted her to eat you alive.

So, we never did. I never stepped foot over there until I was part of a scavenging team. Thing about the west wing is that it’s not heavily inhabited. There are a few families and people over there, don’t get me wrong, but a lot of those doors are red lights. Nobody living there. That’s creepy enough, but the worst part is wandering around and just noticing the thickness of the Creep. Even by Floor 16 standards, it’s pretty dense, so the infestation in the rooms must be out of control. It’s not just the Creep alone, though, that’s disturbing. What’s truly disturbing is the Security armor trapped inside of it. I’ve said that you find it strewn along the halls, but it’s not as if it’s just casually lying around on the ground. It’s actually trapped in the Creep itself.

The locals say it’s from the victims that Sally claimed when she tried to force her way up into the upper levels. Obviously Security has a tight grip on any threats to the upper floors, but it’s apparent, from all the abandoned weapons and equipment, that there were some significant Security losses on Floor 16 at some point. The fact that nobody from Cleanup came afterward indicates that Authority felt they’d disturb or agitate the situation further by sending in more people. Even these days, we try to avoid the west wing. Still, every once in a while, I go through and look. It’s really more for people that live on that floor. It gives them some peace of mind.

Well, you can imagine that by the time we’ve finished our parades upstairs, then gone through checkpoints, and finally finished doing extended patrols, that we’ve already burned a lot of time. You’re right. This process is something that Authority might want to address later, but as for now, it takes nearly the entire day just to make our way down to Floor 21.

My personal recommendation is that Authority make a more consistent effort of using Security on the lower levels to assure the people living there that we’re actually protecting them. That they have no reason to fear the Creep.

Of course, I wonder if, by Floor 21, any of that would make a difference.

A description of the current condition of Floor 21 follows.

As Authority is well aware, Floor 21 has been the first line of defense against the Creep for as long as we can remember now. There are, of course, rumors that at one time we lived lower in the tower. However, neither I nor my team have found any proof of this on any of our excursions. The items we’ve found seem to have belonged to people that lived before the Before. Also, from a practical perspective, it seems as if it would be impossible to live any farther below due to the incredibly deteriorated nature of the deep lower floors.

The first time I set foot on Floor 21, I was eighteen. I’d volunteered for the Scavengers and was quickly accepted. I say quickly because some people are only conditionally accepted due to their mental state. Those that are prone to panic or fear are first put through more extensive training sessions to see if they can master their emotions. As Authority is well aware, I never needed this. Call it whatever you will. Perhaps I lack a healthy sense of fear or self-preservation. Whatever you want to call it, I don’t panic when things go sour, and I don’t lose my cool.

That stated, even I was slightly unnerved the first time I left for the Scavenging.

One of the first things I noticed, and it is still true today, is the rustlike haze that hangs in the hallways. Some say that trace elements of the Creep disperse into the air, causing the haze. Using the same logic, we assume that the Creep causes hallucinations because it hangs so heavy in the environment. If nothing else, the years have proved that the Creep has debilitating mental effects on human beings, due to its inherent properties.

Whether that’s true or not is for Science and Authority to determine. I simply know that the already rust and concrete walls of the Tower are that much more dim on Floor 21. This is the most despised rotation for all of Security, and you can see it in their posture at the door. Even though they have their gas masks on at all times, they’re rigid, yet constantly shifting around to see if anything is approaching. You’ll notice them take an occasional look into the stairwell to see if the Creep is coming up. It never is, but that fact doesn’t ever help to relax them. Or anyone, really.

The paranoia and fear are thick, and the shadow people sightings become a daily occurrence. The bases of the walls are lined with slimy piles of what looks like muscle pushing up from the lower floors, an infestation that has to be battled against on an almost weekly basis through the use of superheated rods. Of course, you don’t want to be using flamethrowers on open walls and risking the infrastructure of the building, at least not if you don’t have to, so one of the central jobs of people living on these lowest levels is to patrol the hallways and use those red-hot rods to force back the Creep. When it recedes, so does the sticky fluid it produces, but inevitably both return. It’s just a matter of when.

People living on these floors despise their jobs, and it is no secret that they often trade their rotations with neighbors. This does come at quite a high price, though. Given the lack of supplies provided to the lowest levels, a black market of sorts has sprung up as people barter among themselves for different goods. Sometimes a man is so desperate to stay away from the abandoned halls of Floor 21 that he’ll sell an entire week’s worth of food.

It is a problem, one Authority has not addressed either by finding permanent solutions to the infestation or by reinforcing the area with Security. Even the Morale officers rarely come below Floor 17.

To be frank, the infestation at these levels is simply too high for a representative from Morale that is adjusted to the upper levels. Without the proper training, they panic and run. It is a known fact that we have lost such men into the depths of Floor 21 when these untrained men or women have lost control of their emotions and, in a blind panic, vanished into the maze that is the Tower. Where they go is impossible to determine due to the failure of surveillance equipment on these levels, a failure that goes back before my lifetime.

Those that do take on the duties of fighting back the Creep are expected to wander deep into every wing. They burn away any overgrowth in the halls or excreting from doorways, but they’re also expected to monitor growth in the old elevator shafts as well as various nooks and hiding spots of the Tower. It is, of course, a massive building, and so a thorough patrol of every inch of the halls is impossible. When an overgrowth goes unmonitored for too long, it causes a chain reaction upward through the higher levels, leading to a lockdown situation. Fortunately we haven’t experienced this much since the emergency situation last year, when we lost multiple Security agents in the Stockholm Incident and engaged the Creep in a long battle throughout the night.

I’m sure I don’t have to remind anyone in Authority about the Stockholm Incident, so I’ll continue.

My team uses the same room each time we spend the night on Floor 21. As I sit here on the ground, I can’t help but laugh. Due to constant vigilance, there is no sign of infestation where we stay. There is neither muscle nor skin growth, no signs of the fluid, and yet it takes daily scrubbing simply to keep this one room clean. It is no wonder we are unable to make significant pushback against the Creep if it takes this much effort just to keep it out of one room.

At any rate, the men are relaxed. They’ve become as used to this as possible, and a few are playing cards. We’ve got one young man, named Mike, looking forward to this being his last expedition before he puts in for his four-year reserve term. He’s a good person that’s always kept a calm head. It’ll be a shame seeing him rotate out of the team, but I hope he finds a real solid job on his floor. Guys like him deserve it. I know he’s said before that he has a few friends up there. At least once he’s mentioned a girl, Jackie, that he says is too young for him, but that he’s at least decent friends with. I doubt he’s completely honest about her being too young for him, but stuff like that keeps me laughing. Like I said, this is why Authority puts up with me, right? Because I can laugh in the face of conditions even when I’m about to plunge into the Deep Creep.

At any rate, I hope you all are at least happy with my report on conditions down here. I know Councilman Waters says I waste a lot of audio time recording things that aren’t important, but that’s just one of the ways I keep my calm. And I doubt Councilman Waters wants my team dying because their commander wasn’t allowed to do the things that keep him relaxed.

Do you, councilman? I know you’re listening to this.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Nine

It’s hard to explain to people just how we manage to find ways to sleep when we’re in the Deep Creep, but it’s pretty second nature by this point.

So, just a little over a week into the Scavenging, and we’ve managed to secure a room on Level 30 that’s actually not too uncomfortable. We’ve rarely been this far down the north wing. See, that’s the problem when people think about what scavenging is like. Most think it’s this mad plunge into the bowels of the building. In reality, the Tower is so huge that at times we can just wander into wings we’ve never set foot inside of before.

We’re actually following up on a hunch that Mike had. Not the most accurate guy with a gun, but I’ll give him some credit. That guy is a living map. He has a sense of navigation like I’ve never seen, and it’s one more reason that I enjoy having him on the team. A good sense of navigation is important to surviving in the Deep Creep, especially if you get separated from your team.

We’d just finished descending down the elevator shaft. As you know, there are many places below Floor 21 where the staircase is either sealed off, destroyed, or just too densely infested. So, we’d only just gotten down onto Floor 30 when he turns to me and starts asking about investigating hallway 30-15. It takes me a second to look it up on my tablet, since I don’t have the gift of guidance that he does. First thing I notice when I find it is that it’s an area we’ve been through at least a half-dozen times over the last two years. Basically, the hall’s been picked dry of any goods.

He won’t let it go, though. He looks pretty determined, and he tells me, “I’ve got a hunch.”

I stare at him for a second, trying to figure him out. Still, it’s Mike. Cool head, never panics, so I know he has a reason for saying this. “Fine,” I tell him. “We’ll head over there. Any particular reason why, though?”

“I’ve been thinking about ways to get through to Polar North.”

Polar North. I almost laugh at him. “That area’s impossible to get into,” I say. “I’ve been with more than a few teams that have tried to find their way in there, and we’ve never had luck. Not to mention 30-15 has no access to it.”

Polar North, for the pleasure of the council, is a large region in the northern tower, so-called because it is frozen behind a wall of Creep so dense that you’d never be able to safely burn your way through. Our current estimation is that Polar North extends from Floor 28 down to at least Floor 45 and likely farther. It is the single, largest, and most dense infestation of Creep in the Tower that we are aware of.

Saying you want to break into Polar North is like setting off on a legendary quest. It’s an almost mythical accomplishment by Scavenger standards.

Still, I trust Mike, and even if things don’t pay off, I know there’s an elevator access shaft that we can use to head farther down into the tower. If his plan doesn’t work, of course. So, finally, I give him the nod. “Sure, Mike,” I tell him. “Let’s go check it out.”

So we march. By Floor 30 you’re talking about having to be careful about where you step. It’s not too bad, but there are definitely areas of the ground to avoid. The first problem is that Creep infestation can eventually lead to decay and rot, so we’ve had more than one man over the years fall through to the next level. The evidence of that is in the occasional hole you’ll see that dots the floor. The bigger problem is that stepping directly onto the Creep is a quick way to get yourself killed. It’s hard to gauge when the stuff will react, but there have been times a man has stepped onto a part of the floor that’s grown a thick layer of Creep, only to have it come alive and whip at his legs. You’ve got about thirty seconds to move in and apply a dose of flame to get all that skin and tissue to retreat. If you don’t, it’ll wrap right up his leg and suck him into the wall. Again, it doesn’t happen too often, but we’re all aware that not everyone who goes on the Scavenging comes back. There’s a reason for that.

That’s pretty much what we’re encountering as we move toward 30-15. Mike’s got point because he’s got that uncanny ability to navigate the halls. Sure enough, soon we’re in the thick of it, and Creep’s pouring out of the roof. The most disgusting part is it slithers down, and I can feel that slimy liquid it produces dripping onto my clothes and helmet. At this depth, getting any of it on your skin is a real quick way to trigger a massive hallucination and mental break, so I order everyone to slide their visors down. That keeps the stuff out of our eyes. The more direct access Creep has to your circulatory system, the faster and more potent it acts. If that’s not a good reason to keep it out of your eyes, I don’t know what is.

Anyway, we finally reach the target area, but Mike doesn’t stop. He keeps moving on, passing by halls 30-16, 30-17, and so on. We’re heading into some rarely explored space, and I’m about to ask him what his plan is when he suddenly veers off. I’ve lost track of what hallway we’re in by this point, but I trust the guy. Besides, scavenging teams are used to this sort of stuff. Our basic job description is urban explorer, and we’ve all got an explorer’s itch.

Thing is, we keep taking turns and twists. Soon we’re in so deep that I’m not sure where we are. In my mind I know there’s no real reason to worry, since our tablets keep automatic maps of every direction we take, but that doesn’t mean I enjoy wasting time. We’re not even stopping to explore any of the rooms, so we’re burning valuable scavenge time to follow up on a hunch of his. Anyway, he takes us into one of the Maintenance closets. They’re not Cleanup closets. Cleanup teams don’t come here. In the old days, before the Before, they used these areas to store chemicals and other stuff for scrubbing down the Tower. I know, because we’ve found detergents and other cleaners sitting here that are decades past their shelf dates. It’s not the sort of thing we scavenge, but it adds a few pieces to the history of the place.

At this point Mike turns to us and says, “So, I’ve got this theory. I’ve been looking at the layouts of the Tower we’ve made from previous trips, and I’m pretty sure there has to be a Maintenance access to here.”

“Maintenance access?” I ask him, unsure. “We know there aren’t any around here, Mike. Those are only for use around critical systems, so the old staff that took care of the place could get to the power plants quickly if the Tower ever had an emergency.”

“Yeah, but if you try looking at all the maps we have of those access points, they all seem to lead this way. Have we ever actually found any power plants?”

“Well, no.” He’s right about that. We assume the old Maintenance access tunnels lead to the power plants because the cluster of power cables from the old electric grid start to get denser and denser. Thing is, we’ve never been able to track them to their source. Our general assumption was that they at some point led downward, but to be honest, it’s always been a guessing game.

Anyway, Mike goes on. “I’m thinking the reason the Creep is so dense this way is because the old power plants are in Polar North.”

“You can think that all you want, Mike, but we know there aren’t any access tunnels on this side of the Tower. They’re all on the east or west side.”

“Yeah, but why don’t they go anywhere important?” He doesn’t bother waiting for an answer as he whips out his flashlight, scouring the surface of the walls. “Nobody really knows what happened when they shut down the Tower. All we know is what’s in front of us.”

“Which is what?”

“That there’s a bunch of access tunnels and power cables that basically go nowhere. That run around the Tower from south to east and then cut toward the north wing. Then the access tunnels vanish, but the power cables keep running. Why? Because they keep going, to the power plants.”

“Then… why isn’t there any access?”

“Well, I’m kinda stumped on that one. I think that whatever happened in the Tower started in the north side. Think of it like, why is the staircase immediately after Floor 21 sealed up with rock and concrete?”

“For the obvious reason. It prevents the Creep from spreading upward. At least, it prevents it from spreading upward easily. It can’t just pass through solid stone.”

“Right. So, what if the Creep started in the north and then spread out? What if they stuffed up the access tunnels because that was the easiest way to trap it for a while?”

He says this, and I look from him to the walls around us. Like I’ve said, Mike’s a sharp guy. I’ve been doing this a few more years than he has, and I’ve never considered that. Then again, Mike’s got that grasp for figuring out space and navigation. I look around at the rest of the team, and they just shrug. Turns out, I’m not the only one who’s never considered this.

Finally, I throw my hands up. “All right, Mike. Why do you think the access is here?”

“Because the access tunnels always have entrances from rooms like this. I mean, that kind of makes sense, right? They were closed off to the public and only for Tower workers. When I was looking at the maps, I noticed that one of the access tunnels used to run this way. Now, all of us know you can follow those tunnels for a while before you hit dead ends, where they blocked it up. Thing is, without that concrete, at least one of the tunnels would pass right behind this room.”

“I’m liking what you’re selling, Mike. Okay, you’ve got me on the line, now reel me in. How do we get into this tunnel?”

He takes a few steps over to the side of the room opposite the door we came through. “Access tunnels are always on the same side of the room. Right?”

I nod, but I can’t help but frown. “Sure, but… Mike, there’s a solid concrete wall there.”

“Are you sure?” He turns, knocking on the gray surface in front of him. “What if we placed an explosive here?”

Everyone protests immediately, and I wave him off, shaking my head at the idea of it. “Mike, you know we have to avoid using explosives at all costs. Shake the area up too much, and we’ll instigate a Category 2 Creep Incident.”

“So, we just use a little less. All we have to do is use enough to blow out this wall. We all know that Polar North’s been the one place we’ve wanted to get in for years. There’ve been more than a few people that’ve tossed the idea around that the Creep’s coming from inside it so, if I’m right, then it’ll be worth it. We’ll finally have a crack at finding out how all this started, maybe even find some way of putting a stop to it.”

“But like you said, that’s only if you’re right. What if you’re wrong?”

“Then we haul our butts out of here. It’s not like it’d be the first time we had to.”

Thing about a Scavenger is that we’re risk takers by nature. As I look from face to face throughout the room, I can’t help but notice that they’re all smiling. Hell, I’m smiling, too. So I toss my hands in the air. “Okay, Mike. Why not? Just do me a favor.”

“Sure. What is it?”

“Put a hell of a long timer on it. At least that way if there’s an incident, we’ll already be down the hall. We’ll be able to see if there’s any reaction to the explosion and get out of here before anything comes after us.”

He gives me a thumbs-up. “I’m on it,” he says as he reaches into his pocket. We all carry small amounts of plastic explosives as a precaution, since you never know when you’re going to find yourself trapped and in need of an escape. The only thing is that an explosion will drive back the Creep for just a minute or two before that stuff gets angry and starts to spread rapidly. Mike puts a five-minute timer on, which is more than enough time for us to run back up the hallway. Actually it’s enough time for us to run a few hallways down.

Some might think that’s an overreaction, but the truth is that when you piss off the Creep, it can spread like a fire on fuel. That’s why Mike sets the timer so long. Not only do we get pretty far away, but we get settled in with enough time to observe any reaction from down the hallway. As I stare through the red haze, I hear the explosive go off. Instinctively my body tightens up, and I can actually feel my legs tightening as every muscle gets ready to run. A quick look around the team shows that they’re all prepared to do the same thing.

Still, while we wait for something to happen, nothing ever really does. I’m expecting at least some reaction, but, no, nothing. Since this was Mike’s plan, I tell him to take point again. If anyone’s going to have to spot a Creep incident first, it should be the guy who pissed it off. Again, though, nothing ever happens.

Actually, I’m surprised a third time. We arrive back at the Maintenance room, and, I mean obviously, the place is trashed. We just blew it up. All the chemicals and shelves are on the ground and there’s a small fire going, so we make sure to get that snuffed out before it spreads into the halls and starts an incident. It doesn’t take much to see that Mike was right, though. There’s a gaping hole in the wall, and behind it is a thin tunnel. Even from my side of the room, I can make out the power cables running along inside of it.

“I’ll be damned,” I say, hands on my hips. “Good work, Mike.”

“Nah. Anyone could have figured it out.”

“Mike, people have been trying to figure this out for decades, maybe longer. Give yourself some credit.”

Everyone agrees with this and starts patting Mike on the back. He’s obviously not used to the attention, and maybe doesn’t even care, but everyone deserves a moment to shine once in a while. I let them all do their rounds of congratulating while I take a step inside, shining my flashlight so I can get a look. “No sign of the Creep in here. Wasn’t expecting that. It’s pretty narrow, though, so we’re going to have to move in single file.” Mike starts to move into the tunnel, and I have to push him back. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s late, and we’ve been on the move all day. We’re all excited about this, but if we don’t get rest, then we’re putting the team at risk.”

“Yeah, okay. So we wait until tomorrow?”

“Right. Let’s scout out one of the nearby rooms and see if we can find one that’s not spilling over with Creep.”

The thing about our jobs is you can’t be too picky about where you sleep. I mean, there are a couple of rules. Don’t sleep facedown. You run the risk of accidentally getting Creep in your face, and I don’t even want to think about accidentally getting it in your mouth. Other than that, don’t pick any room where the Creep’s so thick that you risk triggering it. If the bed’s covered in it, don’t sleep there. If the floor’s just overwhelmed with it, don’t sleep there. Pick a relatively empty space, settle in, and don’t move around too much through the night.

Outside of that, there’s not much to do except for sleeping. The only thing you can’t forget to do before going to sleep is to set up the particle sensor, which detects changes in the air related to Creep growth. If it detects rapid growth, well, it does exactly what it’s supposed to and blares alive to get us all on our feet. Most of the time, it doesn’t go off.

Most of the time.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Thirteen

We lost Goodrich today.

In general, things have been intense since we made our way into Polar North. Even though the access tunnels didn’t take us straight to the power plants like we’d hoped, they at least got us far enough north that we’ve easily been covering more uncharted territory for the last five days than we have in the last year of scavenging.

As I’ve said in my previous reports, the Creep is at a level you never see unless you’re closing in on Floor 50. There are times when it’s so thick along the walls that you’re scared you’re going to brush up alongside it and it’s going to grab you. So, to prevent that, we’ve been following the Demidov Protocol whenever things have gotten particularly intense. That is, two Scavengers at a time with a distance of about ten yards between each team. Point team’s got it worst, having to take corners and be the first into rooms, but that’s the reason we rotate.

Anyway, I tell the guys all the time not to be greedy, but human nature never changes. In Goodrich’s defense, I don’t think he was trying to be too impulsive. He just saw something he thought he could get to.

He couldn’t.

We’ve been noticing a trend, and it follows Mike’s original assumption. The closer we move to where he suspects Polar North’s heart to be, the more we’re finding random, massive outgrowths of Creep. Our working theory is that it fed off the power reactors when it originally spread and then possessed the rest of the Tower that way. No way to be sure, but what I am certain of is that the Creep isn’t evenly spread out, even here in the north wing. It definitely starts to intensify as we move toward where Mike suspects the power reactors are. He’s doing his best to lead, but even with his superior sense of direction, the infestation is really making it difficult to make steady progress north without getting diverted.

Another change we’ve noticed is that we left the typical apartments of the Tower behind and entered… something else. It’s hard to be sure, but there aren’t any beds or drawers here. Well, there are, but they’re not like apartment beds. They’re more like cheap bunk beds designed for people working here, as if they were set up for a quick nap if people got tired. We’ve been using them. It’s a big relief since I’d hate to have to sleep on the ground under these conditions.

It’s pretty obvious that this was some sort of working space, either a lab or mechanical area. We don’t really know what the tower was used for before the Before so it’s quite possible the area we now call Polar North was some sort of workshop. I can back up that observation with the types of materials we’ve been scavenging, which are mostly of the tools and materials variety. The Pocket Space generators in this part of the Tower are all full of the stuff.

Which brings us to the loss of Goodrich. We made our way into what was beyond question a former lab of some sort, but the overgrowth there was intense. Immediately I wanted to back out, but Goodrich argued back. You have his profile, so you’ll know that he was always one of the headstrong ones, a natural Floor Niner. They’re almost always that way. Plus, you know these guys really do get off on being heroes back home. So on our way out, Goodrich spots a Pocket Space generator just a bit exposed from the rest of the Creep. I guess he must have thought it was far enough out that he could access it without any risk, but as we’re all aware, the Creep doesn’t react very well to Pocket Space activation. In a confined space, it’s best to activate the generator from a distance, and, well, Goodrich didn’t. I didn’t realize what he was doing until the blue glare from a portal opening up reflected inside my visor. The team spun around at once as Goodrich was working his trigger unit, trying to draw out the materials inside the portal.

The instant we turned, we saw the Creep hanging above starting to shiver, and you don’t need an alarm to tell you what that means. I began to order Goodrich back, but before I could, a stalk of the Creep whipped downward. Goodrich kind of caught sight of it in time and jumped away, but the fleshy appendage shattered the floor underneath him. A dozen cracks splintered out and the team leaped away, scrambling for the door. I turned around to see Goodrich, who began to rush away from the Pocket Space portal. The floor must have really been corrupted by Creep, though, because he’d barely taken a step before it gave way, shattering into a dozen chunks. The last I saw was him reaching out for me, and I could only stare as a mammoth part of the wall collapsed around him. Creep and concrete plunged down into the darkness as I jumped out of the room, barking at the team to haul off. We were barely down the corridor before parts of the hall began to sink into the floor beneath us.

I’m not sure how long we ran, but we didn’t stop moving until the sounds stopped. By then we were deep inside Polar North, with no immediate path back the way we’d come. One man down and now cut off from any part of the Tower we were familiar with, I had no choice but to order the team deeper. We’d just have to try and carve a way out.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Sixteen

Two more gone late yesterday.

Nwosu got taken by the Creep. She was supposed to be following the Demidov Protocol and sticking close to her teammate, but I don’t know, I guess she panicked. Of any of us, she’d always had one of the worst problems with claustrophobia. It isn’t something that will get you knocked out of the Scavengers if you can learn how to control it, which she normally does. I guess the losses we’ve experienced over the last few days just had her on edge, because she broke rank with her partner and started to sprint to the end of a particularly infested hall. I could see the Creep reacting to her panic, which it’s known to do, especially in congested parts of the Deep Creep. It whipped her with so much force that she was dead on impact. Then it did the gruesome work of absorbing her into its mass.

A lot of things could have happened at that moment, but any more panic would have just agitated the Creep even further. I looked ahead and behind me, motioning for everyone to keep calm. I could see the fear in their eyes, but any sudden actions would have meant our doom. Once everyone was settled, I gave the command to keep moving ahead. It might sound cold, but at that second, we had to forget about the loss and keep going. There just wasn’t any chance to mourn or, at least, not at that moment. At the time I hoped that would be the only death we saw that day.

It wouldn’t be. Lopez was the next to go, but we wouldn’t realize it until morning. She’d been complaining of particularly strong sightings of Demons. At one point she turned to me and said she could see one standing behind me as we talked. That’s not a normal experience. When the Demons do linger, they normally stand at a distance. They might approach you, but they’ll vanish long before they get to you.

In six years I’ve never been told that one was standing over my shoulder.

I guess that Nwosu’s death must have affected her even more than the rest of us. With all the signs of fear and paranoia she was expressing, it’s not entirely surprising that she went the way she went. We were able to secure a room by using light heating to clear some sleeping space. It was a long and tense process, but we had to clear at least just enough of the Creep to settle on some beds. Before bedding down I tried to get everyone’s spirits up and reminded them that, at least if Mike’s estimates were right, we were closing in on the power plants. From there we’d have to be able to get some answers and devise a way out. All the layouts we’re familiar with indicated that an additional stairwell had to be against the far northern walls of this wing.

Sadly it wasn’t enough. Lopez wandered off overnight. When I woke up, it didn’t completely register with me at first. Then I realized we were a man down. Once I took count of our numbers, which are closing in on half of those we left with, I realized we’d suffered another loss.

We did some quick scouting to see if we could find her and retraced some of our steps, exploring some previous rooms we’d been to. Unfortunately there was no sign of her. I’m leaving a brief recording behind here to let her know our general direction, but if we don’t press on, we’ll die here.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Seventeen

I haven’t had time to record these. Honestly, I’m beginning to wonder if there’s even a point. If nobody gets this, will anyone care that I recorded it? Will anyone remember me? If nobody remembers me, will I really have ever existed?

Enough of that. We’re no longer on Floor 30.

It happened three days ago. Day seventeen of the Scavenging. I can’t imagine what people are thinking about back home. I don’t really have time to think about it, anyway.

We finally found the power plants.

It’s… nothing like what I expected.

I’m trying to figure out what this tower was created for in the first place, what it was supposed to power. Because the engine we discovered sank down floor after floor into the darkness.

We stumbled on it almost as if it were just any other day, the way you’d stumble into someone’s room accidentally or step into a meeting you weren’t supposed to attend. We just passed through a pair of partly opened doors and… there it was.

It’s gigantic. From what I can tell, it stretches a few more stories upward, but it descends into pitch blackness for floor upon floor. Walkways surround the entire chamber, which is circular, unlike every other room in the tower. All the power cables we’ve been trailing end here, and they all feed into the circular power core. From where we’re standing, I can spot what looks like control rooms that must have monitored the power output of the generator. Mike sees them, too. Funny, in spite of everything, he hasn’t lost his spirit. He might even be holding up a little better than me, and that just doesn’t normally happen. If I’m feeling tense, I’m sure he is, too, but he’s either psychologically capable of ignoring his emotions, or he’s just really good at lying. Either way, it’s never good to suppress what you’re feeling so much that it starts to build to a dangerous level.

Anyway, at this point I’m not putting anyone else at risk, so I take point, leading them around the walkways and toward the control room that juts out from the wall. As we get near, it lights up. Although there doesn’t seem to be much activity from the generator, it’s apparent that it’s still putting out some power. Power’s not the only thing coming out of the core, though. Once we’re able to get a thorough look of it from inside the control room, it’s apparent the thing, as massive as it is, is covered in some equally sized Creep matter.

It’s weird, seeing them this size, like gigantic pieces of flesh hanging off of a giant’s arm. Some are bulbous, and others are slick and slide down the sides of the engine. Their tendrils rope and loop over the power cables and stretch out toward the walls, either covering them or vanishing into deeper parts of the Tower.

Mike takes a look at me. “Now do you think the infestation started here?” he asks.

“I’m not sure,” I respond, looking from spot to spot inside the chamber. “I’m not saying I do or don’t. Still, this is as good as any a place for an infestation to start. Lots of surface area, and if the Creep really does feed off of power sources, then this is a big one.”

“Yeah, something this big has got to be a juicy target for it.”

“I’m not sure where to proceed from here. I mean…” I look away in disbelief and just shake my head. “What would happen if we could just shut the entire thing down? If we just shut down the central power core?”

“Wouldn’t we be shutting down the entire tower?” Mike glances up. “You know… even back home?”

“I don’t know. Do the top floors get their power from the core?”

“Hell if I know, to be honest.”

The best I can do is shrug. Still, as I look up into the darkness, an idea comes to me. “Now that you mention it, I’ve heard the upper floors get their power elsewhere, so they can’t be dependent on this place. Really, how could they? What would the solar panels be used for then? That’s how we get our power every day. When we go through long stretches with a lot of darkness, Authority always puts those energy-use restrictions on the Tower. That’s got to mean our power’s tied to the panels, not this thing.”

“Right. So, turning this thing into scrap couldn’t possibly hurt the people living up top.”

“You might be right.” I frown as I nearly push my face to the glass and stare out of the window. “So, let’s think of a way to blow it to hell.”

“Well, we still have explosives.”

He’s right, of course. The only problem is it’d require us crossing over to the power core using nothing more than the cables stretched out over the abyss. It should be noted that these cables are indeed quite thick and sturdy, easily as large around as a man’s leg, but that still doesn’t provide lots of room for navigating precariously over an open pit that drops thousands of feet into darkness. There’s also no visible access to the core, no walkways or anything like that. “At one time they might have been able to extend a bridge out to the core or something. They had to have done repairs once in a while.”

“Maybe, but how do we turn those on?”

The rest of the team is visibly antsy, and I don’t have any easy answers. “I mean, we don’t need much, right? All we need is to use a sufficient amount to blow a hole in one side of it. This is sensitive technology, so there’s no way if we take a chunk out of its side that it’s going to still function. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

“Makes sense,” Mike says, taking a step out of the control room to observe the core. “If you really want to be risky, you could chunk a grenade at one of those Creep growths. You know how stuff sticks to it.”

“It sticks to it because Creep that size grabs it.”

“Right, so let’s use it to our advantage this time.”

He might be right. I look around and into the faces of what’s left of my team. Nobody seems happy, and why would they be? We’re down to half our numbers, everyone’s tired, and even as highly trained as they are, going past two weeks in the Deep Creep will take a toll on anyone’s sanity. Still, I’m not going to do this without consulting the group. “Listen,” I tell them, looking them each in their faces. “If this happens, I’m not sure what the result’s going to be. I’m not sure if we’re going to have an incident or if this will actually kill the Creep. I keep thinking about this, and I’m sure this is the best chance we have of getting rid of that stuff. We know it reacts to strong emotions, but we also know that it reacts to power sources. I mean, we’re all aware of that, right? It goes straight for Pocket Space generators. We’ve all had the Creep try to snatch our own generators off our hips. Hell, we’ve seen it more concentrated here in Polar North than almost anywhere else in the tower.” They all nod at this, but nobody’s smiling. Their faces are ashy, like a wooden log after it’s been burned up. “Guys, I don’t know if we survive this, but it is potentially our single best chance of saving this tower. That’s what I’m thinking. Still, I’m not going to do this if you don’t have my back. We can go looking for that stairwell access. I’m just thinking about all the losses we’ve had up until now.”

They know what I mean. If we try to head back up, will we make it? If we don’t, we never get the chance to tell anyone about how to break back into Polar North and what’s here. The Creep will just keep building, and nothing will change. One of the women, Baginski, steps up. “Sir, if we’re damned either way, I at least want to go out making sure my family doesn’t have to live this way anymore.”

There’s a round of agreement to that, and really, I couldn’t have said it better. “Yeah, that’s how I feel,” I say, reaching for my grenade belt. As I unclip one and hold it up, I ask them once more, “So, everyone’s with me on this?” Again they all nod, bouncing from foot to foot as if psyching themselves up. “Okay then. No regrets. Just listen up. If this situation goes to hell, we need a plan. If we get separated, stick to your training. We’ve all done solo stints in Deep Creep for situations like this. If an incident breaks out and you find yourself alone, remember, aim up. You’re all aware there has to be a stairwell access somewhere just north of here. Shoot for it. If we get separated, our primary rendezvous point is that stairwell. If you find yourself unable to make your way there, again, just aim up. If you find an elevator shaft, use it. Go as high up as you can, and for the love of God, get the hell out of Polar North.”

Cowling, a big ox of a man, steps forward. “Sir, all circumstances considered, if we find ourselves in a situation where we are separated from the group or higher ground for an extended period of time, do we have permission to eat the food we’ve scavenged?”

I can’t help but laugh. Everyone else does, too, or at least smiles. If nothing else, he’s helped relieve some of the stress that’s been building in the back of my neck. “Yes, Cowling. Permission to eat food is granted. I’m sure that Authority will be lenient once they’ve found out we’ve eliminated the Creep threat.”

“Thank you, sir!”

I wave him off and turn before they can see my smile fade. My gut’s just churning because I’ve never experienced a positive moment when we’ve tried to detonate directly on Creep. Sometimes it’ll clear the way forward, but if you’re not fast, you’ll end up in a tunnel full of it as it gets angry and grows so fast that it becomes impossible to clear your way through. With that in mind, I line up my arm with the closest Creep growth. We’re fortunate, in that the distance between us and the power core is relatively small. With a last nod and smile to everyone, I pull the pin on the explosive, arc my arm backward, and send the explosive turning in spirals through the air. For a moment it looks like it’s veering off to the right too far to do any damage to the core. Then it drifts, curving back toward the center of the room and striking hard against the surface of the Creep. It bounces like it wants to escape into the darkness, and for a second it seems as if it’s going to ricochet back toward the walkways. Then the fleshy tendrils of the Creep whip out in response to being struck, latching onto it and hauling it in. The timing is perfect, and the grenade comes soaring back toward the core, detonating within inches of its side. We all watch through our visors as pieces of steel melded with Creep burst outward into the air, splattering and banging against our body armor.

I think we’ve made a mistake.

Electrical arcs are coursing up through the body of the core, traveling up and down like dancing spider legs. They mix and engage with one another before continuing on, surging together for a few seconds before they rip a new explosion from the core.

“Chain reaction!” I scream, waving everybody off. We begin to sprint down the walkway, heading back toward the exit, when the power core lets out a deep groan. The walkway beneath me buckles, and I stumble forward, my fingers wrapping like snakes around the railing. Underneath my feet the ground falls away, and I swing forward, barely hanging on as the walkway slams to a stop. A heavy body strikes me as it flies past my shoulder, nearly dragging me down into the darkness.

I don’t have time to see who it is as they plunge into the black beneath me.

The room is starting to meld with the light of orange flames and blue electrical arcs, and I desperately try to haul myself upward, my arms straining to lift my body so I can toss my hand out and grab the next railing. I can hear the voices of some of my team, and I look up. Mike’s there, holding his hand out to me. Gunfire begins to pepper the walls as the rest of the group starts unloading, though I can’t see at what. Sucking in a deep breath, I swing my arm at Mike, my hand locking around his. His face tightens up as he strains and braces as he tries to pull me upward. As I stare into the air above him, my mouth goes slack. Through blurry vision I see the bulbous form of pink muscle and flesh crawling down the walls, an intense screeching following it as it descends from the flames that douse the surfaces above. Fleshy tendrils lash out, whipping at the team. One of them turns to fire but is slapped from the walkways, plunging off into the hellfire brewing deep beneath us. The entire chamber is now filling with orange and yellow plumes roaring upward from deep inside the Tower, while the Creep seems to rage and scream, lashing up the walls and surging to the rooftop.

With a pained groan, I give all my strength to force myself upward and onto solid ground, waving everyone forward as I do. We struggle the last few feet to the doorway, disappearing into a hallway that is suddenly emptying of Creep. I can assume why. The heat of the explosions is starting to build with enough pressure that soon it’s going to blow out the entire northern wing. With whatever energy we have left, we run madly into the maze of hallways that is Polar North, paying no attention to whatever danger there might be or even to where we’re going. All I know is we have to get away from the core. The roaring of the fire as it builds is growing so loud I can’t even hear our footsteps.

It peaks with a scream so tremendous that I feel as if my head’s going to split. I see the tongues of flames licking the walls around me and feel the heat scorching my back as I’m elevated and thrown forward, my limbs flailing in circles as I’m tossed like a toy.

Then? Darkness.

I can’t say what happened. I don’t know. Nobody else does, either. I mean, technically, yes, I know what happened. The core detonated, and the floor beneath us gave way. What I’m saying is that I don’t know how we survived.

At least, the few of us that are left.

An account of our personnel follows.

James Cowling, Floor 7.

Mike Chapman, Floor 8.

Timothy Nguyen, Floor 10.

Janet Udoka, Floor 11.

Janet Baginski, Floor 13.

Vick McGill, Floor 16, Commanding.

Whether due to the area of the Tower we’ve fallen to or due to the combination of explosion and flames, the Creep concentration here is minimal. Over the last few days, we’ve been able to make some progress upward using the elevator shafts and Maintenance access points as I do my best to lead my team out of Polar North and upward. I believe we might have fallen as far down as Floor 40. At this point the best we can do is try and find our way back home.

I hope, at least, for two things. First, that our efforts to stem the Creep succeeded.

Second, that someone, somewhere, hears this report one day.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Eighteen

I keep recording these partly because it’s my duty and partly because… well, it adds some measure of meaning to what’s going on here. It’s as if just the fact that there’s a record of everything we’ve done here in the Deep Creep somehow, I don’t know, as if somehow that would make it okay if we never made it back. At least there would be something of us that we’d leave behind, a record that we existed. And maybe it would let others know about things to avoid. Don’t blow up the Creep, for instance.

That’s a joke, but at this point, even I’m finding it hard to laugh.

The part of the Tower we’re currently in is a mess of overturned cabinets, ransacked rooms, and stacks of papers that’ve been scattered all over the floor. Some power’s still flowing from the power core. How? I don’t know. All I know is that if there weren’t power, I doubt there’d still be lights on in the halls and rooms we’re making our way through.

God help us if things go pitch-black down here.

Another thing I failed to consider is that the Tower itself might have backup generators. It’s not as if we know much about how this place functions.

Nguyen started the morning by coughing up blood. It wasn’t much, so I told him to keep it cool. There are a number of things that can make you cough up like that, some more serious than others. It might just be inflammation from the air and smoke we sucked in during the explosion, or it could be that he just took a heavy impact. At this point I’m not too concerned, at least as long as he doesn’t start coughing it up frequently. If he does… I don’t know. One more reason for us to get back.

The tablets are at this point useless, at least as far as determining where we should be heading. They’re mapping where we walk and that helps give us a sense of orientation, but they’re no good as far as finding our way upward. We’re in uncharted territory here. Even Mike’s famous sense of direction doesn’t seem to be helping much.

Speaking of him, it seems a Scavenger’s always a Scavenger, even when the chips are down. This afternoon we heard a loud rattling in the vents off of the main hallway we were exploring. I didn’t want to investigate, since at this point I consider everything a threat. Mike, though, he went for it. Before I could protest, he was prying off the grate from that vent. My eyes were on him for just a split second as I waited for Creep to explode out and take him.

Fortunately I was wrong.

Turns out Mike found some sort of voice recorder. It’s a bit busted up from the fall, with its edges chipped a bit. I’m not sure how far up this vent goes, but it looks like someone tossed this thing from pretty high up. The Creep isn’t exactly known for just chunking things through the grates, so it had to have been a person. Why? I don’t know. It’s intriguing, though. We all assume that, since it’s a recorder, we’ll get some clues if we listen to it. I told Mike to stuff it into his satchel for now instead of putting it into Pocket Space. I think he’s going to listen to it later.

Another thing about that recorder, though. I’m thinking about the fact that it came down a vent. That vent must have pretty clear access to the top of the Tower. I’m not sure how high and we’d never be able to fit inside of it, but if it goes straight up to the upper levels, then there has to be an elevator shaft or stairwell around here that follows its path upward. One thing we do know about the architecture of the Tower is that it’s symmetrical, and these long winding vents usually follow the direction of other passages we can use.

I could be wrong, but I’m fairly sure we’ll be able to find some way upward soon. At least, I’m hopeful. And you know how I feel about hope. For the first time in a long time, we have a lead. We have a chance of getting home.

Commander Vick’s Report Number Nineteen

I wake up in the middle of the night to the sound of crying. The room’s filled with a rust-colored haze, something we haven’t seen since we entered the power core. I’m confused at first and look around, and it’s like the haze is getting thick even as I’m trying to see through it. The crying starts getting louder, too, so I pitch onto my side, trying to find out where it’s coming from. Then I see Mike standing there, over in the corner. I get off the mattress I’ve been using and head his way. He’s shaking badly, and I recall that I’ve been worried about his mental state. Too many smiles, not enough confessions.

“Mike,” I tell him. “Mike, get a hold of yourself.”

“They got to her,” he says, his voice quivering. I don’t know what he’s talking about. “They got to her, and I couldn’t help this time.”

“Who, Mike? Who’re you talking about?”

He turns to me, and his body is just in a full quake. The tears coming from his face are pooling on the floor as he holds up his hands, burying his face in them. “Authority, Vick! They got Jackie. They put her in Reinforcement…”

I shake my head, putting a hand on his shoulder, but he rips himself away from me. I take a step to him, trying to bridge the distance. “What are you talking about, Mike? How do you know they got her? Why?”

He doubles over, like someone’s hit him in the gut. “She went up there… she went to Floor 1. They found out… put her on trial. They sentenced her… guilty for a Violation of Thought.” He pauses just long enough to reach into his pocket and pull out the recorder we found yesterday. “It’s hers, Vick! It’s all on here!”

“Damn. Mike, man, I’m sorry. I’m real sorry, but you got to control yourself.” I say this as the haze deepens until I feel as if I’m staring at Mike through a crimson lens. My eyes shoot around the room, and I see… strangers. All along the wall, there are men lining up, standing there and staring at us. All black. All shadow. They’re watching us. “Mike, I need you to get it together right now! Do you know what you’re doing?”

He doesn’t. He hits the floor and starts wailing. I shoot a look back, watching as the team’s starting to wake up. They’re sluggish for just a moment. Then, they see the men. Instantly everyone’s off their beds or off the ground, grabbing at their weapons. The entire room’s starting to surge red, and more and more of those shadow figures are lining up along the walls. Above me I feel a dripping as liquid streams from the rooftop. Nobody has to tell me what it is as I glance up and watch the Creep forcing its way through the cracks and seams of the ceiling, breaking off pieces and chunks of the roof and tossing them to the ground.

“Mike, you jackass,” I shout, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him to his feet. We don’t have time to argue this, so I cock back my arm and put a solid right cross across his jaw. He slams back against the wall, but it’s enough to wake him up. He looks around, and as if for the first time, he sees what’s happening.

“We’ve got to get out of here,” he mumbles.

“Hell yeah, we do,” I agree, hauling him hard by the shoulder. We dash into the center of the room just as the wall behind us collapses, a surge of flesh and muscle covering the space we’d been standing in just moments before. It hits with such impact that it slams through the floor, splintering the ground beneath us. “Everyone out!” I scream. “We’re not going through this again!”

Everyone is moving almost in slow motion. Their bodies are catapulting toward the doorway, legs propelling them past the line of beds, when I see something I’ve never seen in my life. The shadow men. They step away from the walls, reaching out for us as we dash away, their hands passing inches from our shoulders. For a long moment, my eyes blaze alive as I see one reaching out toward me, a dead whisper I can’t understand filling my ears. A cold chill arcs through my body and I stumble as one of their fingers brushes my skin, my breath sucked out from my lungs for a moment. Then, as soon as I’ve moved past its grasp, it’s like the whole world shifts gear into full speed again. Then I’m moving with everyone as we stream into the halls and into a full sprint, even as the thunderous noise of the splintering doorframe fills the air behind us. I glance back to see flesh-covered muscle surging out of the doorway, breaking the frame wide open as it floods into the hall. This is it. This is what we knew we’d be risking. A full-on Category 2 Creep Incident.

It’s alive, it’s angry, and it’s not stopping. It grows so fast that it’s filling up the hall from floor to ceiling, tumbling and surging over itself in a wave of disgusting biomass. We hit the corner and peel off to the right. Still, that wave is right behind us, building and growing in waves that surge over themselves. It’s screeching and wailing, almost like it’s crying, and I can feel the shiver in my bones as its scream reverberates in my bones. One thing I know, though, is that we’re not getting away. Even as we streak toward the far end of the hall, I toss a look over my shoulder and see it flying at us, gaining ground with every second.

I don’t say a word to anyone when I stop. I just let them keep running. Then, I haul the chunk of plastic explosives I’ve been carrying with me out and slam it to the floor. Quickly glancing up I can see the wave of that pink and splotchy tissue as it rushes forward, seconds from consuming us. I jam the timer into the explosives, hit the trigger, and then run the few steps away that I can.

When the explosion goes off, it packs so much force that I don’t even feel the pain. I just see black, and then I’m out.

That brings me to now.

So, here I am, in the darkness. Nothing around me but charred Creep. I can feel it, the mix of ash and muscle. I must have blown a hole clear through the floor. Well, at least my plan worked. I knew the only way to save the team was to divert the infestation.

Though honestly, I expected to be dead. I’m not. Instead, I’m just… trapped. My legs are pinned beneath something… not enough to crush me… but too heavy to get out from.

But I’m… okay. This is it, but I’m okay with going out this way. I’ve got no regrets about what I did. I saved the team. That was my responsibility. After all, I’m their commander. Vicious Vick.

Hah. What a kick. I’ll always remember that kid’s face.

Anyway, I can tell by the red light that’s blinking on the side of my recorder that it’s about to die.

It’s kind of sad. I guess nobody’s going to hear this after all. So, what was the point of recording any of it?

But you know… I’ve changed my mind a bit about that. Deathbed confession, I suppose. Because even if nobody ever hears this, I’ll still have existed.

Because my friends will remember me.

Maybe the team will sit around one day, telling some heroic stories about how I saved them. Maybe they’ll just tell tales about their commander, the best dang poker player in the Scavengers. Or maybe they’ll just say I was a good friend.

Yeah. That’d be nice.

Whoa. I feel a little light-headed. I think I’m hallucinating, because I could swear I hear voices calling my name.

Maybe they’re calling me home.

THE BATTER’S STORY

Recording Thirty-Eight

My name is Jackie, and damn, does it feel good to be alive.

Sidenote? Everything is going to hell.

I guess I should, like, at least start from when all this happened.

Well, first of all, they left me overnight. Maybe they were just trying to grill me and get my anxiety up. I don’t know. All I know is that they left me sitting in my cell until I passed out on the floor.

It sucked. Try imagining sleeping on a block of ice. Yeah.

When Security does come for me, they don’t even bother being polite. Instead, they yank me off the ground like a toothpick and toss me out the door. These guys are lining the outside like I’m a violent convict, and they’re not playing around. I get that they’re not supposed to exactly treat me nicely, since I’m a prisoner and all, but dang. Doesn’t mean they have to rough me up the way they do. I’m on my way to get a shot to the brain, so the least these jerks can do is treat me like a lady.

Which is apparently too hard to ask. Whatevs.

Anyway, so, we get to the room. I recognize it because this is where I saw that prisoner get his injection. This time, though, I actually get a chance to see the whole lab. I mean, nobody’s there, but I do get to see lots of tubes filled with pulsing growths. Obviously Creep.

I don’t have a lot of time to think about this, since my “escorts” take about a minute to get me locked in. Wrists, ankles. I don’t care that they’re strapping me into the chair so much except that they put that strap around my mouth. God. It puts a chill in my spine. I can’t talk, which is like my number one quality, and pretty soon I won’t even be able to think for myself. It’s like an entire life of questioning everything around me has led to this.

Which, like I’ve said, curiosity really does kill the cat.

Anyway, I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that they don’t cover my eyes, because the last thing I’d like to see before they mess with my head is the sight of some jerk injecting me full of Creep gunk. Speaking of which, it takes about five seconds before the doctor follows behind Security. They’ve literally just finished taping down my mouth when he gets here. Want to know the worst part? Dude’s acting like it’s just another day at the office. Okay, whatever, man, just get over here and finish the job.

He stops to chat with the Security guy, like he enjoys stretching this out. I almost want him to hurry just so I can stop hearing him yap. Anyway, he whips out a recorder from his pocket, only it’s way nicer than the one I had. Makes me kinda jealous, actually. He sets it on the table and starts talking.

“Begin recording. Doctor Rivera, Tower Date 515.14.22,” he says. “I am currently receiving a patient into custody to begin Reinforcement. The patient is from Floor 4 and has been tried and found guilty of violations of the Thought Code. Recording pause.” He turns around and looks at me, picking up a massive needle from the table. You could practically puncture armor with it. “Young woman, your actions are a travesty. You have to be mildly insane to get thrown into Reinforcement when you’re from a floor as high as four. Do you know the kind of privilege you’ve thrown away?”

What does he want me to do? Answer from behind this mouth strap? Anyway, he keeps yapping. “I’m aware of who you are. Doctor Coleman’s daughter.” That gets my ears perking, but there’s really nothing much else I can do. Still, he’s got my attention. “Doctor Coleman’s a genius, you know. I suppose that it’s not entirely surprising that his daughter would be inquisitive. Still, he should have taught you some discipline. Now we’re going to have to put some Creep in you, and after that, well, I don’t think you’ll be quite as curious as you are now.”

So, I might not be able to talk, but one thing I know without a doubt: I utterly despise this guy.

Rivera walks toward the wall, and I know what’s coming next. With the tap of a button, a panel shifts away, and a tray of the Creep slides out. He hovers over it with the needle in his hand for a second, and then, right before he jabs it in, the Security agent interrupts him.

“Doctor,” the big guy says, earning what can only be deemed a diabolic scowl from Rivera, “does it look agitated to you?”

“What could possibly agitate it? It’s too small of a sample to respond significantly to emotional stimuli.”

“Have you ever actually been in the Creep?”

The doctor takes a step back and glares at him, like just his eyes could laser cut through the guy. “Of course not. I wasn’t born for that line of work. That’s your job.”

“Right, and I’m just saying that I’ve been in the Creep enough to know when it’s agitated. Maybe we should get another sample.”

Rivera looks like he’s about to blow the top of the agent’s head off as he slams the panel, sending that gross piece of muscle vanishing back into the wall. He taps at the buttons again, and for a second you hear something like a loud sucking sound. In a second more Creep slides out. The doctor takes a step back, gesturing at the tray. “Is this good enough for you?”

The Security guard shakes his head as he steps away from the door. “I’m telling you, doctor, there’s something wrong with these samples. This one looks agitated, too.”

“Well, I can’t very well go through every sample in the entire facility! Maybe you’d like me to play some music and make it happy? Would you like to sing for it? Or what do you think is going to satisfy the samples?”

As a matter of fact, I’ll tell you what will satisfy the sample.

The Creep lashes out from the tray, grabbing the doctor like a moist tongue whipping around his wrist and yanking him toward the tray. Rivera screams as it happens, and Security doesn’t waste any time. He whips out a knife, but believe me—this is the most amazing knife of all time. He flicks a button on the side, and suddenly it lights up orange, like it’s burning, and he jabs downward into the Creep. The stuff screams as he does this, thrashing and quivering like melting jelly before it suddenly deflates into this ashy black heap. Doctor Rivera collapses to the ground, panting like a tired dog, while the Security guard reaches down to help him.

He does this just as the room becomes bathed in red light. It flashes over and over, like it’s trying to induce a seizure. The worst part is the siren. It wails like an angry animal until it’s so loud that my teeth clench the strap in front of my mouth, my head splitting as I try to brace against the pain. I can feel the noise bouncing around between my ears and rattling my brain. Rivera looks outside, then back at the guard, and asks, “What’s going on?”

Security hesitates a second as he looks toward the window, then yanks the doctor to his feet. “Creep Incident. Must be.”

“Here?” the doctor asks, the color in his face shriveling away. “On Floor 1?”

“We need to get you somewhere safe,” Security replies as he shoves the doctor by the shoulder, ushering him outside. They’re like panicked animals as they rush to the far exit of the laboratory and vanish into the outside hall. There’s just one problem, though. The entire time I’m the one left sitting there, and all I can wonder is: What about me?

Through the windows I watch as the Creep floating around in those tanks start to bubble and stretch, their tendrils gluing to the surface of the glass. They begin to “breathe,” expanding and contracting every few seconds, then quivering as they push against the inside of the tanks they’re trapped in. I watch as one of the containers bursts open, flesh and muscle spilling out and down the side of the tank. My eyes zip around my wrists, trying to figure out some way to get myself free. The straps are built into the chair, though, and no matter how much I struggle, I can’t slip free. I rock back and forth, trying to do whatever the hell I can possibly do to just get out. But the whole time my face is frozen to the outside, watching as the Creep starts spreading along the wall and inching toward the window. Somehow it knows I’m in here. It’s coming for me.

The door to the lab flies open, and a Security member steps in, and he’s rocking this huge tank across his back. The rifle in his hand is dripping fire, and the only thing I can think of?

This… is… awesome.

Why don’t we get any cool weapons on the lower floors?

This guy just lets out hell with it until half the room is engulfed by fire. He stands back, swiping his gun back and forth, and just douses the entire right wall. I don’t know who this guy is, but even if I’m just getting one more day to live, I’ll take it. It’s not until I start panting that I realize I’ve been holding my breath for practically a minute, and this guy, whoever he is, marches straight to the lab. He stands outside the glass for a minute, tapping at some controls I can’t see. Only thing about him is, for Security, he’s kinda, I dunno, thin. Especially compared to all the other guards I’ve seen on Floor 1.

The door on my right slides open, and he dashes inside. I’m really starting to pick up on the fact that he’s a pretty scrawny dude at this point, but, hey, beggars can’t be choosers. He doesn’t bother with anything else in the room, and, you know, I kinda like being someone’s priority for once. Feels nice. Anyway, he undoes the straps holding me to the chair, and I practically fly into his arms.

“Oh my God,” I sigh, practically saying all my words in one breath. “Thank you so much.”

The guy has this musky laugh that’s filtered through his mask. Then he steps back, adjusting the strap and sliding the helmet off. Still, the moment his light brown skin comes into view, I already know who it is.

“Dad!” I scream as I launch into him again, and he chuckles for just a second. He’s already motioning me to the door.

“Come on, Jacko,” he says, heading to the exit. “We don’t have time to waste. We’ve got to go.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agree. I mean, of course, I agree; what else would I do? He’s already outside when I pause, looking over my shoulder. Doctor Rivera forgot something. Finders, keepers, right?

If you’re guessing that I stole his recorder… well, I prefer the word borrowed. How else would I be recording this?

Dad shakes his head at me as I catch up, then slaps his mask back on. We’re out and in the hallway—and everything, everything is different. The white walls are bathed in red, all the doors are shuttered closed, and the floating screens that used to show commercials keep scrolling the word LOCKDOWN over and over again. I’ve barely got time to process it as we move along. At an intersection in the distance, I see a crowd of Security just run by, rifles in their hands, shields on their arms, and a few of them wearing tanks like my dad’s got. He spots them, too, and shoves me down a different hallway. I don’t know where we’re going, but soon he’s got me in what I think is a Cleanup closet.

I look at him and ask him the only question any daughter could ask. “Dad… what the hell is going on?”

He sighs as he takes off his mask again. “Nobody knows. The Creep’s been more agitated than normal, just nobody can say why. It started a few days ago when we started having power fluctuations throughout the tower. That wasn’t bad enough to start an incident, but something happened overnight that got the Creep really just out of control. All we know for sure is that it started deep and it exploded before sunrise. We went from minimum Creep activity at midnight last night to a full-blown incident within six hours. We’ve never had an incident spread this fast. It’s even faster than the Stockholm Incident.”

“The what?”

“Your sixteenth birthday.”

My mouth drops. “Wait. So, that really was as bad as I thought?”

“It was the most intense and quickest Creep infestation we’d ever experienced. Until today. We got the Stockholm Incident under control by Floor 4, and it took almost all day for the infection to reach that high. This? Less than six hours, and the Creep’s gone from below Floor 21 to Floor 1. It’s unheard-of.”

It’s a lot to take in obviously, especially ’cause I’m still just a bit, you know, shaken by the fact that I was seconds away from being injected with Creep. “Dad… were you just going to let them shoot me full of that stuff?”

“Are you kidding me?” He laughs like I wasn’t just about to go brain-dead. “I was already on my way to the lab when the alarms started going off. The only reason they kept you overnight was because I was arguing for your pardon. I kept telling them that the only reason you were so curious was because you were so smart and that it would make you the perfect scientist. When all that fell through, well, sometimes you just have to take matters into your own hands. Authority doesn’t always make all the right decisions. They’re a system. They don’t know what it’s like to bend for exceptions.”

“Okay, but, just so you know, they were literally about to inject me with Creep gunk when the alarms went off.”

“Hey, everything worked out, didn’t it?”

I shake my head. Dad loves me, I’ve never doubted it, but he’s always played it kinda loose. “Yeah. Guess it did.”

“Anyway, how are you feeling? Are you ready to get out of here?”

“Where exactly are we supposed to go if the Creep’s everywhere?”

“I… don’t know exactly. We can’t stay on Floor 1. They’ll come back for you once they’re done pushing back the Creep, and then they’re going to get on with the process of Reinforcement. We have to move you deep, but for now we just need to get you off this floor.”

“Okay, sounds good and everything, but how?”

“Jackie, we’re in a Cleanup closet. At least one kind of one.”

So, Dad’s a pretty smart guy, and it takes me up until that second to realize that there’s a reason he’s hauled me over here. Pro tip? It’s not for the décor. Taking a look over my shoulder, I see that the grate here’s already been popped open. Still, there is a Creep infestation happening. I look from the vent back to him. “Uh, do you really think that it’s safe to go down that way?”

“We know the route the Creep is taking. It’s coming straight up the primary staircase and more than a few old elevator shafts. No sign of intrusion through the vents, though. So far what we’ve been able to determine is that something broke down the old blockades on the stairwell access so the Creep’s got free run through those.”

“Dad… Dad, I really don’t know about this.”

He stares at me for a second, then back to the door. “We can’t go into those halls, Jackie. This is the only way for you. If you see anything suspicious, just come right back. As long as you don’t panic if you do see the Creep, it shouldn’t react to you immediately. It’s psychoreactive.”

“Psycho what?”

“Psychoreactive. It reacts to the psychological state of a person, primarily negative emotions. Fear, sadness, panic—those sorts of things can produce incredibly strong reactions. If you do see anything, just back away slowly and retrace your steps. I promise you, it’ll be okay.”

I mean, he’s probably right. What am I saying? Of course he’s right. There’s no way to go through those halls without Security getting me for sure. At the same time, I just don’t want to be stuck in a tube that could flood up with angry living tissue at any moment. Kinda, you know, one of my peeves. No freaky muscle goop on Jackie. Anyway, he sees I’m hesitating, so he holds up a hand and says, “Okay now, wait. I’ve got it. I’ll go to one of the Security lockers and get a flame gun. That way, if you do see any Creep, you can at least push it back. How does that sound?”

A big hell yeah is what it sounds like. What I actually say is, “Yeah. Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

He takes off through the closet, and I have a few minutes to get myself psyched up. Or at least that’s what I’ve been trying to do. I think it’s working. Talking to this recorder’s helped.

Just got to wait here until I get that flame gun.

Recording Thirty-Nine

If I get through this day, I’ll be happy.

Dad was right. The vents weren’t infested. Floor 4, on the other hand, was just a little bit different a situation.

I pop out into a Cleanup closet on a far end of my wing that I normally don’t go to, which, you know, wouldn’t have been such a problem except for the Creep dripping from the ceilings. And coming out of the ground and the cracks and the elevator shafts. My floor looks nothing like what it normally does. Instead, it looks a lot more like Floor 16 or worse. All the doors are sealed up, and for the first time, I’m asking myself how the heck Dad is ever going to get down here. Between Security and the Creep, he’s going to have to fight through a lot.

Actually, thinking about Dad brings up another question.

Does Mom even know what’s going on?

I mean, right? She’s always so out of it. Is she just sitting at home, eating chocolate bars while the Tower falls apart?

Well, guess there are worse ways to go.

Trying to get back to my room is like working my way through a minefield, except all the mines are made of child-size growths of muscle and tissue. As I dance between all the slime and gunk on my way to my room, I suddenly slip when something grabs my leg and yanks me toward the wall. I turn to see a Creep tendril tightening around my leg until I think my bone’s going to snap. My instinct is to scream, but instead, I douse it with fire. I’m not sure what’s brighter, the flames or my eyes as they light up while the Creep gets scorched. The thing screeches at me with that terrible scream that I must admit I’m getting used to. I’ve heard it enough by now, and really, it’s my life or theirs. Or its.

Whatevs.

I keep sprinting for home. So, this is how you know just how bad it is. As I’m running back, I accidentally dash headfirst into someone from Security. He looks me up and down, says nothing, like he doesn’t even tell me to go to my room, and just runs off. Something big’s going down. Anyway, I know I’m at least safe for the moment. At least, safe from Security. The Creep’s another story.

But with all the distractions, I’m able to find my room. Even with the shutters down outside, my keycard works on the lock access, and I stumble into the living room. Sometimes you’re just grateful for the small things. Like your life.

Anyway, Mom’s there, and for once she doesn’t look either depressed or super insane happy. Actually, she looks kind of worried as she moves over to me. She wraps me up in her arms, and I’m actually a bit, I dunno, concerned. The one thing Mom isn’t is affectionate, or at least she hasn’t been in a long time. Still, I’m just glad to see her, so the least I can do is hug her back. And okay, I’ll admit I’ve kinda missed just hugging Mom. I mean, don’t tell her that. Anyway, she pulls off after a second and looks me over.

“Jackie,” she says, shaking her head, “Jackie, you had me so worried.”

I honestly don’t know what to say. It’s my mom. What do you say to your mom? What do you say to your mom who’s usually so crazy that you never know if she’s going to start crying for no reason? “Sorry,” is the best I can manage to get out. “You knew what happened to me?”

“What do you think I am? Of course, I knew. Do you think I’m oblivious?”

I shrug because… yeah. “Well, lots of times you act like, I dunno, like you’re… weird. Like on drugs or something. It just really throws me off. I mean, that’s understandable, right? I don’t think I’m the crazy one here.”

She holds up a finger to her lips and steps away, moving to the tablets on our counter. She hands me one and starts typing something on hers. It takes just a second, and then she turns it around, showing the screen to me. It reads, “They listen to this apartment.”

I kinda stare at her for a second, then I look down at my tablet. I get it. I look down and type back on my tablet before turning it to her. Mine says, “Why? Are you guys important? I thought Dad worked on solar panels.”

She replies, “Yes, as part of his common job. The same way my common job is to work with the garden. The truth is that he’s the head scientist in charge of researching the Creep. I’m one of the lead chemists that works on Voluptas. Your father spends so much time away from home to avoid monitoring. We don’t talk much because we write to each other. And I act a certain way to make them think I’m high. Because that’s better than being too smart.”

This is totally detonating my mind. “Frowny face. Wow.”

“I’m sorry life is like this for you.”

“It’s okay. But what do we do now?”

“I don’t know. Your father wants to take you to the lower levels. There are people there that run away from Tower Authority. But right now it’s overrun.”

Life in the lower levels? When would I see my parents? “How is Dad supposed to get down here?”

“He’s dressed like Security. He’ll sneak through with them. Your father is very smart.”

“Yeah, I’m sorta figuring that out.”

We both glance away as a sound catches our attention. Before I can even turn, I see Security rushing in from the corner of my eye, so I whip out the flame gun Dad gave me and turn it at the guard, tightening my finger on the trigger. “Hold it, jerkface!” I scream as I point it in his direction. The guy jumps backward, raising his hands up and cowering against the door.

He whips his helmet off, and I feel terrible. Dad. Of course. I was about to barbeque my own father. He holds up his finger and points to the ceiling. I nod and turn to Mom, who passes us the tablets. He quickly taps away on his and flips it toward me.

“Security is focusing on the lowest floors,” it says. “Get something to defend yourself with against the Creep. We leave in twenty minutes.”

“Got it.” I sprint into my room and look around. I already know I don’t have much to protect myself with, but that doesn’t mean I’m entirely defenseless. My eyes take a quick inventory of what I could use. I have my shin and forearm guards, not to mention the knee and elbow pads. Hey, when you’re young you take whatever defense you can get in the middle of a creepy “living-muscle apocalypse” scenario. There’s a catcher’s mask from when I played baseball, but it scares me to think that I’d be limiting my vision. Instead, I just tuck on my baseball cap because if I’m going to die, I might as well look snazzy when it happens. Plus it matches my old baseball uniform, which I switch into before strapping a protective vest over my torso. Say what you want about the uniform, but at least the material’s tough. Well, it’s at least tough enough to keep any slime from seeping through onto my skin. Plus the “NY” symbol on the shirt looks cool. Wish I knew what it meant. Like I said, die in style.

A girl in a baseball uniform and body armor. Yeah, I look like a terribly conceived comic hero. I’ve still got the flame gun strapped to my hip for firepower, but as I sit there, I notice the bat I’ve had since I was a kid. Mom and Dad gave it to me a long time ago, before I thought they went crazy, and I just keep thinking… I might need something if any Creep gets close. Plus, it’s always been lucky for me. I know that’s stupid, but, come on. I played every game of my life with it. I hit some of my biggest home runs with it. Come on, all my best memories are attached to it. I mean, can’t I just… can’t I just want something with me that makes me feel… okay? With this incredibly messed-up situation?

Anyway, I thought this would be the last time to record before… I dunno. Before really bad things start happening, either because of Security or the Creep. So, future self, or anyone else listening, please excuse the really loud music blaring in the background.

I just don’t like it when people listen in on me without my permission.

Recording Forty

A Creep growth pops like an overgrown zit when you hit it with a bat.

Freakin’ sweet.

Dad leads the way as we charge down the hall, his flamethrower igniting everything in its path. Around every corner we turn, we can see Security just lighting up with those things, that or firing with their guns into overgrown growths that are piling up in the halls. I know we have a lot of Security to take care of the Tower, but it’s becoming pretty obvious that, in a situation like this, they’re too busy worrying about their own necks to think about a girl like me. Especially since my dad looks like a Security guy himself, just out escorting someone home. Uh, well, an escort through incredibly violent biomass growths.

But, hey, who doesn’t go through that situation at least once in their lives?

The stairwell itself is nothing like I’d imagined. Seriously, the inside is just… gross. The Creep has been scoured clean, but it’s left this disgusting, ashy putty all over the place. Our stairwell is slick with gritty goop that slides down the stairs, and there are more than a few times that I nearly go flipping over my head and crashing to the ground. Can you imagine falling into that gunk?

Three showers for me, thanks.

Dad waves me on, leading me through the stairwell as he talks. “They’ve got men from Floor 17 down just swarming the place. None of them know for sure where the infestation is concentrated, but so far everyone’s stretched thin. They’ve deployed I don’t know how many Security to the lower floors, and they’ve completely sealed off Floor 1.”

“Sealed off?”

Dad stops, turning to me. “Final Resort Protocol. In case of total Tower infestation, deploy the majority of Security to the lower floors to regain control. As a final measure, seal off all vents, elevator shafts, and doorways leading into Floor 1.”

“Wait. What?”

“Jackie, Floor 1’s got its own gardens and power source. It doesn’t need the rest of the Tower. They can survive indefinitely as long as they can clear the floor of Creep, which they have.”

I can feel a lava flow burning through my cheeks. “They’re abandoning the rest of the Tower?”

“No. They’re telling Security to try and retake the Tower. If they succeed, well, I’m sure Tower Authority will reopen Floor 1. If Security fails… then, okay, Floor 1 stays sealed, and Tower Authority endures. Just with a lot less people.”

“Dad, this isn’t a joke. This is like, us, you know? People, the human race… the whole shebang.”

“Well, we don’t know that,” he says with a huff. “But that’s a discussion for another time.”

“Dad?” He’s already sprinting down the stairs again. “Dad, we have to do something.”

“What can we do, Jackie?”

“Why is everyone acting like I’m the crazy one around here? We have to try and stop the source of the Creep!”

He waves me off as he continues racing downward. “It could be anywhere, Jackie.”

“Dad, stop.” He keeps going, and finally I have to scream, “Stop!”

He pauses with a heave, but just barely turns to look at me. “What, Jacko?”

“You’re not stupid. Mom told me you’re, like, the expert on this stuff. I know you know where the source of this is coming from.”

“Jackie, it’s the largest single invasion of Creep we have on record. I have ideas, but I’m not about to get you involved with them.”

“Fine,” I agree, shrugging my shoulders. “Then I’m not moving. I’m sitting right here until the Creep gets me. How you like them apples?”

He tries to grab for me, but I raise my bat. Of course I’m not going to hit him. Duh. I just have to, you know, show I’m serious. “Dad,” I tell him, “I’m not going anywhere. We have to fix this.”

For a minute he looks at me, then back down the stairs, then back at me. Even behind his mask, I can tell he’s giving up. “What’s happening right now is what we call an emotional resonance cascade. The Creep feeds on human emotions, like I told you. Exceptionally powerful human emotions, though, can ‘resonate’ through the Creep. That causes a cascade in which, as one part of the Creep gets agitated, another part gets agitated. Normally it wears itself out. This one isn’t.”

“Why? We solve that; we save the world. Or at least the Tower. But that’s basically the world, am I right?”

He just shakes his head. “The reason this cascade isn’t failing is because someone is keeping it going. Someone is causing it to continue. Someone in a lot of pain.”

“A person? Like, a human? One of us?”

“Well, sort of. They used to be.”

“Wait.” I look past him, down the stairs, then back up the hall. “Dad, where’s the source of the cascade coming from now?”

“Want to take a guess?”

“No.” I sigh. Naturally. Of course. Of course, this is my life. “Floor 16?”

“Right.”

“I thought… Dad, you told me Sally was just a bad story parents told their kids.”

“Would you have really been able to sleep well at night if I’d told you that living people could be infested under the right circumstances, and that for over a century, we’ve isolated the west wing specifically because she can consciously control the Creep?”

“Daaaamn it,” I cry as I drop my head. “She can do what?”

“Well, she’s awake now, so that means she can consciously interact with the Creep. Normally people absorbed into the Creep die—you know that. When they come into general contact with the Creep, it has psychological effects on them. In rare cases it grows on them, and they become a single being in a symbiotic relationship. Sally’s a little different. She’s still consciously aware of herself and her surroundings, sort of. As long as she doesn’t get emotionally agitated, she’s fine. Once she does, though, you have to get her under control.”

“And how do we do that exactly?”

“Last time it took a hundred men and a lot of firepower. This time I just need to get this into her,” he says, reaching into a pouch in his tactical vest and removing a needle. The fluid inside seems to glow slightly as he waves it around before putting it back in place. “We’ve been working on this a long time. When introduced into the Creep, it has a pretty significant effect. Unfortunately we don’t have the chemicals to make much of it, so we can only produce slight doses. This will be enough to put down Sally, though.”

“So when Sally goes down, so will the infestation?”

He nods. “She’s the only reason that it’s still going.”

I take in a deep breath, then tap the flame gun still hanging at my waist. “Guess I’ll need this, too.”

“As much as I’ll need this,” he replies, hefting his flamethrower. He pauses for a second when he does, then lowers it. “Actually, champ,” he continues as he pulls out the needle again, “you better take this.”

“Wait. Why?”

“Because I’m the one carrying the heavy-duty weapon. I can keep her down with this, but someone’s going to need to use that needle.”

“You… you want me to inject her?”

“Scared?”

Jerkface. That’s all he really needs to say. “No,” I scowl, scooping the needle from him and shoving it into the satchel at my side. “All right, well, c’mon, let’s hurry to the end of the world.”

See, now the plan is all set. We’re good. Really. We get down to Floor 16, everything’s fine, and then we open the door onto the hallway. What do you think we see?

Nothing but guns everywhere.

We just see nothing but Security, a whole row of them aiming at us. Then, in the middle, is a guy dressed in this blue skintight uniform. It’s kinda like the ones the people on Floor 1 wear, just a different color. Thing is, I recognize him.

My dad does, too. “Judas Abbott,” he says through his mask.

“Doctor Coleman,” he says with that smug look of his. His bone-white hair is really in fine form today, like he made sure to put extra conditioner in it. “We knew you’d be heading this way.”

Dad slips off his mask. “You knew we’d come this direction. How?”

“As much as I hate to admit it, we’re not equipped to deal with the Creep without you. You are, of course, the only researcher with your level of knowledge on the subject. Be that as it may, we’re not idiots. We analyzed your files and decoded your suspicions about where the emotional resonance cascade might be stemming from.”

“And you want my help.”

“But, of course, my friend.”

“What about my daughter?”

Abbott pushes his fingers to his face, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. “Authority is prepared to rehear her case.”

“I want her declared innocent, Abbott, or you can deal with Sally yourself.” For the first time in a long time, my dad’s acting really cool. Too bad it has to come during the Armageddon.

“You know I have no say in her verdict.”

“I know Authority is listening to us right now. Or aren’t you wearing a listener?”

Abbott looks really annoyed by this, and he taps at his eardrum, as if he’s listening in on a different conversation. After a second he looks back up at us, faking that gross creeper smile our way. “Congratulations, doctor. Authority will withdraw the accusation of Violation of Thought.”

“And the other accusations?”

“Doctor, they were accusations of the lower order. Surely this suffices.”

I look up at my dad. “What does that mean?”

He smiles. “They can’t afford to let you go without some form of punishment. If they did, Authority wouldn’t be Authority. They have to live by their code. But you can only be sentenced to Reinforcement for a violation of a higher order.”

“Wait. I remember when Danny was Reinforced. Why did he… ?”

Dad looks at me and takes a knee, wrapping an arm around me. “Your trial was broadcast throughout Floor 1. They all are. Normally everyone gets a sentence of a higher order because they always find a way. It makes for good entertainment.”

“What?”

“Now that Authority’s declared that you can go free, they can market it on Floor 1 as showing their great mercy. Believe me, it works out for them, too.”

I want to say, this is completely screwed up. Instead, I just nod. “Okay.”

Dad gets back up to face an eminently bored Abbott and says, “I concede.”

“Fantastic,” he says with a nod as he beckons toward his Security team. They circle us like wolves and push us forward, Dad leading the way as he guides us all deep into the maze that is the west wing of Floor 16. He replaces his mask back on his head as we go, his weapon clutched in his hand. As we move, large clusters of the Creep are visibly breaking through the floor or walls. Security fans out to drive it back, igniting huge patches of growth in flames.

Dad points from one guy to the other. “This is all being broadcast. Abbott’s wearing a listener, which does more than just listen. It records everything visual, too.”

“What? We have the technology for that? Why don’t the Scavengers wear them?”

“Who says they don’t?” he asks with a heavy breath. “They just don’t know it. We get constant feeds of the Scavenging. You know how everyone on the lower floors gets to play the games and do the tallies? How they celebrate when the Scavengers are out there?”

“Yeah, duh.”

“Floor 1 has a different way of doing it. Each person on a scavenging team has a listener they’re not aware of. Secretly, Authority enjoys it when a few Scavengers die. It keeps people invested in it, gives it high stakes. So they don’t necessarily give the teams all the best technology to survive with. Everything is divided in this tower, though, Jackie. The video feeds go through a central planner. He decides what looks like scientific material and what looks like good entertainment. If it’s scientific it gets sent to me. If it’s entertaining it gets sent to editors that cut it and make it look good for the broadcasts. After that he forgets whatever he saw by stuffing himself with Voluptas.”

“What? Why?”

“Because this Tower survives by forgetting the past, Jackie. That’s just how it is. People on the lower levels don’t have to care about it so much because they’re kept ignorant. On Floor 1, though, people are exposed to a lot of sensitive information. That information even filters down all the way to Floor 4, to people like me or the Morale officers. That’s why we have access to Voluptas. Your mom pretends to take it so that Authority will assume she doesn’t know anything. If you know too much, you’re a threat.”

“I don’t get it, Dad. Why do we have to forget?”

He just shakes his head. “I don’t know, Jackie. The reason itself was forgotten a long time before I entered Science. All I know is that something happened way back when that got us here, and Authority is dead set on making sure we don’t get too curious about what’s in the Darkness. Because they truly believe that one day, we’re going to get saved from the skies. Just like the verse says, ‘They will be taken out of Darkness and into the light.’”

“That’s pretty much the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

He laughs. “Yeah, well… I’m not going to argue that.”

It’s fairly obvious we’re getting into some far-out sections of the Tower. All the doors are lit red, which means that nobody’s living here. I mean, just the fact that the shutters aren’t working should tell you that it’s been a while since anyone has done maintenance in this wing.

It’d be a lie if I said that’s the worst part, though.

I look up as we’re walking and catch sight of a big Creep growth. At first I just shrug. It’s Creep, big deal, right? That’s sorta what Floor 16 does. Creep.

Then I take a good look inside.

It’s a guy. Well, a skeleton, and it’s pretty clear he’s covered in what used to be Security gear. I mean, the helmet’s halfway evaporated and the clothing’s all ripped up, but it’s obviously Security armor. It almost makes me gag before I can look away, and Dad grabs my shoulder to brace me.

“Hold on there, kid,” he says, squeezing me with his hand. “That’s just a natural effect of the Creep absorbing nutrients.”

“God, it’s like it’s feeding.”

“Well. It kind of is.”

That doesn’t help, and I’m about to wretch again when we all stumble forward. The floor shakes and sends us tripping, but apparently, I should give Abbott more credit, since he manages to be the only person that stays on his feet.

I mean, he can’t be a Scavenger commander just because he’s a total ass.

Everyone recovers quick enough to see a flood of Creep rush into the upcoming intersection. The stuff’s like a living wall, and it slows and recedes until the figure of a person is all that’s left. She’s got long hair, like, down to her knees. It does this creepy bangs thing, where it covers the upper part of her face, moving down over her eyes before flooding backward along her back. The girl’s skinny, too. Whatever skin she has looks like living Creep, and it’s pulled so tight that you can make out the bones in her chest and hands.

This is what happens when you take a diet too far, kids.

And I’m not sure what she’s wearing, but it looks like some sort of sundress. I don’t know how it’s kept any color, but it’s still a faded pink. The thing that really stands out about her, though? That smile. She just keeps grinning at us with this smile that stretches too far across her face, like she’s tearing the skin at the edges of her mouth from smiling too wide. It gives us a sight of her teeth, and they’re like dull lightbulbs, just this dingy yellow color.

It gives me the creeps. “I can’t believe she’s alive,” I say.

Dad shakes his head. “She’s not. Not the way we think of living.”

The wall next to us suddenly bursts apart like an egg, Creep lashing at us. It pummels one of the guards and pins him to the wall, the stuff cascading over him until he’s buried. Dad turns along with some of the other guards, and they just let loose with a wave of fire. Long streaks of flame spew across the twitchy muscle, and it releases this howl that shakes the ground underneath me. It ignites in orange blossoms and pulls away, ashy gray globs of it falling to the ground as it releases its prey. The Security guy that got hit stumbles back to his feet, and I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not that he survived. Creepy Sally relentlessly plods toward us as tendrils of muscle start flying from the ground, whipping at the team’s legs.

I just get away as one of the men gets caught by the calf, his leg twisting at unnatural angles as the Creep hauls him off. The guy’s just about to get picked off when Abbott unsheathes this long sword. His pace becomes thunder as his thumb flips a switch on its hilt, the blade igniting in orange and red like a beam of living fire. Abbott moves faster than even the Creep can, and he slices the tendril in half before it can even react to him, the long fleshy stalk burning off black smoke. Without realizing it I backpedal, kinda just gasping at the sight. I get it now.

This is why he’s a Scavenger commander.

There’s a sudden crack along the wall, and I dance away just before it bursts open with a long Creep tendril that cuts the air where my head used to be. As I stumble back, I hit the ground, pain shooting up my back as I do.

Dad twists toward me, rushing to grab my hand. “Jackie!” he screams, but as he turns, a hole bursts open from the rooftop. A tendril whips downward and grabs him by the arm, hauling him back toward the wall. His rifle hits the ground as he wrestles with the creature, screaming as he tries to keep himself from getting pulled into the ceiling. I don’t have time to think as I grab the bat at my side and fly into the air, the hard edge of my weapon pounding into the muscle and tissue that makes up the Creep. The thing shudders at the impact, and I go rolling along the ground, sliding to a stop as I watch my dad collapse onto the floor. Freed, he grabs for his gun, brushing the attack off like it’s nothing and spewing a torrent of fire into the air behind me.

I roll toward him and turn to watch as a wall of Creep at my back ignites into fire, its pink skin searing black under the heat. The thing shudders before collapsing to the ground, exploding into a hundred disgusting chunks that splatter along the wall and floor. Dad hauls me to my feet, and we rush toward the Security team, which is just lighting up the hallway. Abbott’s there in the center, trying to cut his way through wave after wave of living tissue, but Sally doesn’t seem to have a limit to how much she can summon.

Dad squeezes my arm and glances down at me. “You’ve still got the injection, right?”

“Yeah, Dad,” I nod, tapping the bag on my hip. “I’m ready.”

“You’ve got to stick close and don’t worry about me when we go in. I’ll get you near to Sally.”

I nod, and he yanks me forward, bringing up his flamethrower as we run. We cross by Abbott, who’s busy swinging that sword of his, and leap over a huge tendril of Creep that bursts from the wall and swipes at our legs. Dad squeezes the trigger as we come within feet of her, but she counters with an endless wave of twitching muscle that meets us halfway. Flame and flesh battle each other for a second, and then I notice the roof above me and the walls at my side lighting up in an inferno. The rest of the Security team is dousing the hallway, and the entire area is erupting like a scene from hell.

Dad shouts at me, “Go, Jackie!” and I nod. Creepy Sally seems as if she’s distracted for the first time since we’ve got here. Maybe even she can’t deal with this much firepower. I duck beneath the web of thin stalks that she’s weaving across the hall in an attempt to create a wall of Creep between herself and the team, then leap at her. She doesn’t even see me.

I’m inches from her when I’m caught around the waist. I can’t hold back the squeal I let out as I feel my body suddenly collapsing beneath the pressure of a meaty limb that bursts out of the floor. She holds me just outside of arm’s distance, too far away for me to inject her.

But not too far for my bat.

I rear back and swing with every bit of power my muscles can give me, absolutely crushing the side of her skull. Her head rocks backward and she drops me, her hand going to her face. It’s the first time I’ve seen her in pain.

And she starts crying.

More like screaming and wailing, but her defenses are down. I start to rush her.

Then?

Then the floor beneath us groans like a dying animal before shattering into a hundred pieces, plunging us all downward. Fire, ash, and smoke rain down from above, along with burning muscle and skin. Nothing breaks my fall as I slam hard onto the ground, the breath escaping my lungs as I feel a hard piece of concrete slam into my stomach. I suck wind hard as I flip around, my vision going blurry while the corners of my eyes seem to fill with blackness. For a moment I’m too weak to even twitch my fingers.

Dad’s voice comes out of the haze of black smoke filling the air. “Jackie!” he calls. I see him leaping through the dark clouds pouring off the ground, only to see his body flail backward as a tendril strikes him in the shoulder. He screams as it cuts right through him, pinning him to the wall. Blood bursts from his upper arm as he struggles to pull the Creep from his body.

A thin-framed silhouette pops into view from the wall of flames raging hard to my right. It staggers forward, weak limbs carrying it step after step along the ground. The crying, though. The sobbing. She just keeps wailing as she stops near my dad and looks at him, her jaws detaching wider than humanly possible while she moans. Then she raises her hand. She puts it to his chest, and Creep just starts to pour out of it, like she can create it from herself. It starts to cover his body, molding over his chest and swarming down his legs.

I reach out. I try to do anything. I can’t. I can’t move. I can barely scream one word.

“Daddy!”

Sally’s head tilts up, and she looks off to the side, her lips quivering. Then she looks back at me, her eyes hidden behind those bangs of hers. She stares at me, struggling to speak. Then she says the only word I’ll ever hear from her.

“Da… ddy?”

Her mouth explodes into a scream as her arm erupts into ash and fire, a solid blade of flame cutting through it. Abbott’s sword separates her from Dad, but as she falls to the ground, she manages to create a thick limb from the floor that slaps the blade, and Abbott, like toys into the inferno. Off-balance and screaming, she collapses groundward, the back of her head hitting the floor next to me.

She’s breathing hard. So, she does get tired. She obviously feels pain. She cries.

Sally reaches upward, her fingers grasping at memories I can’t see. She’s sobbing.

“Daddy… Dad… dy…”

What kills me is that she remembers. At the very end, she remembers her daddy.

Whatever she was a minute ago, she’s different now. At least for that second when she remembers.

And yet there’s nothing else that we can do. The family she had died over a hundred years ago. The only reason she’s still alive is because of the Creep.

So I do the only thing that can be done.

I turn and plunge the needle right into her neck. She kinda jolts for a second when it hits, but she doesn’t scream this time. Actually she just looks at me. She stops crying. She smiles.

And then she’s gone.

Recording Forty-One

Real quick: Abbott survived. Of course he did.

Whatevs.

Things move fast after Sally goes down. First off, the Creep. I mean seriously, what the heck? One minute we’re swimming in gunk, and the next it’s gone. It’s like someone pulled the plug on a bathtub drain, and it all just recedes away. Well, whatever power Sally had, Dad was right about her keeping the infestation going. Once she was gone, the entire floor settled down. Lockdown’ll stay in place for a few hours while they do some patrols ’cause, you know, that’s just sort of Security’s thing. Still, everyone’s obviously a lot more chill once we’re not ankle-deep in muscle tissue.

Which obviously, you know, makes sense.

Anyway, I’m not out of trouble, so I won’t act as if everything’s peaches. It doesn’t take Security more than a few minutes to clean up the area. You know, wiping away all that ash-gray goop. Afterward it takes them just a couple seconds more to grab and haul us back up the stairwell. It’s a forced march that’s just killer on my knees. As if we didn’t just fall through a hellish inferno onto the lower floor. Oh well, I’m young and strong, right? Guess I can take it! At least that’s how they’re acting. I mean, who cares about the girl that just put an end to Creepy Sally?

I’m not surprised when I see the door to Floor 1 again, although it’s kind of a joke by now. This isn’t the first time I’ve been let in through the front door, and by now I just feel less impressed about it. A floor full of psychos taking drugs to keep them happy? At least happy enough that they don’t talk to each other about what’s going on in this tower?

I’d rather live in the Creep.

Sure, I’d go hungry, but, I mean, at least I’d still be me. Are you really “you” when you’re always taking drugs to forget yourself?

See, I think about these things. I’m not just curious for the sake of being curious. I can get philosophical and stuff.

Of course, I don’t really have much time to ponder the meaning of existence as they drag me along down the halls. Dad’s with me the whole way, so that’s nice, but it’s so weird being escorted by Security while those cheery commercials shout at us from the air that “A daily will do you,” which by this time translates to some freaking terrifying behavior.

But, you know, I’m still me. I’m still curious. I might not want to live up here, but I do want to know everything I can about this place I call home. Because I really don’t know if what we’ve got going on in this tower can last forever.

Anyway, soon we enter a long hall. I know something’s different, ’cause there aren’t any doors. Well, none except the single pair at the very end of the hall.

Yeah. That looks like it might be, you know, important.

Abbott holds back my dad and gives me a push. I kinda want to tear his arm off for touching me, but I hold back my incredible strength. Heh. I look over at Dad, and he nods, so… I guess it’s cool for me to go?

I start to march, and the hallway seems to just stretch on forever. There are a few potted plants and a couple of soft-looking couches, but no windows or anything like that.

You know what it does have, though? Paintings. Lots of them.

I wish… I wish I knew who painted them. What they’re about. They were important enough to keep, right? Why, though? Does anyone even remember?

One’s of some guy, a military-looking dude with a weird white wig on. I’ll admit it, though, he looks freakin’ sweet. Guy’s wearing a cape, some crazy hat, and there’s this flag behind him in the boat he’s riding. It’s got these red and white stripes, and a bunch of stars on a blue background.

This next one… I dunno, it kinda sucks. It’s just a woman smiling at you. I don’t get that one.

Another one I spot is weird because I actually recognize the guy in it. He’s the dude that was on that cross in the Reception Hall. Uh, he looks like he’s in a lot less pain now, I think. I dunno, it looks like he’s at a dinner or something. He’s got, like, twelve of his friends with him.

This last one, though… it’s weird.

It’s got two guys. One of them’s almost naked. Glad he’s got his legs crossed. Anyway, he’s reaching out to this other, older guy. Their fingers are almost touching, just not quite. The old guy’s got all these… I guess they’re babies?… babies around him.

Actually, the old dude, if you look at him from a certain angle, kinda looks like he’s sitting in a human brain.

My mind must be playing tricks on me.

Anyway, what gets me is that nobody in this tower even knows what these are about anymore. They were important enough to paint but apparently not important enough to remember. Still, I guess that doesn’t matter at this point. I’m at the doorway. I take a look back down the hall, and Dad and the rest of the group are like specks in the distance. Dang. I didn’t realize it was this long a journey.

Too busy appreciating “art,” I guess.

So, I suck in a deep breath, grab the handles, and push the doors in.

For a moment, I’m blinded by light.

And then I hear the doors close behind me.

Recording Forty-Two

“Your name is Jackie,” he says. “My name is Edward.”

He laughs, then throws his hands in the air. “You can call me whatever you like, actually. It’s been so long since anyone remembered what my real name is. They haven’t used it since I was eighteen.”

I look around, and I’m just like… whoa.

His office is huge, and it just stretches on, lined with towers of bookshelves on both sides. Not like those crappy pieces of garbage we have that are falling apart.

These books are new. Brand-new.

He sees my mouth hanging and laughs again. “Jackie,” he says, “come here. Come on.”

I nod, but I don’t walk fast. Actually I can’t walk fast since my legs are ignoring me. The view behind him… it stretches from floor to ceiling and… and it’s so blue. The sun is spying over the clouds, and there’s a chain of mountains that are blanketed by snow. I know they’re not real, but, dang, I wish they were. It takes me a sec before I catch him waving me on to the desk, but I feel like I’m plowing through water. It’s so beautiful I almost want to cry. Then I remember the last time I had this feeling, the first time I came to Floor 1, and I suck it in. I’m not going to get lied to again. So, I take a seat in front of his desk.

The floor is white. The long rug leading to his desk is white. The shelves are white. The desk is white. His suit is white.

I look up at him. “Did I die and not realize it or something? Is this some crazy afterlife?”

The guy smiles. He’s handsome, for an old dude. Sharp face, this trimmed gray goatee. Can’t hate on those silver eyes, either. Eyes I quickly recognize from the commercials repeating on Floor 1. Anyway, he says, “No, you’re not dead. You’re quite alive, actually, despite all odds. I’m quite impressed.”

“You saw it?”

“Yes, Abbott broadcast it all. Quite a heroic attempt to destroy that creature on Floor 16, I must say. I didn’t realize that level of courage was still to be found on the upper levels.”

I’m listening to him, but my chest is just hurting. I feel like a ball is trying to jam its way up my throat. “What’s going on?” I can hear my voice crack when I start talking. Dammit. “Please, I have to know.”

“Where would you like me to start?”

I glance around, looking from the bookshelves to the window and back to him. “What is this place? Who are you? Why did you bring me here?”

He holds up a hand as his lips twist upward. “One at a time, please. We can tackle the obvious. This is Authority Central, the office of the tower director. I am he and he is I. Director Edward Pygmalion, at your service. And the tower you have lived in your entire life is properly termed Tower Pisa. But I get the feeling you’re more interested in why you’re here.”

“Well, considering it was just yesterday that I was getting sentenced… to Reinforcement…”

“Ah, yes, an unpleasant process, that. I have to see it here, you know, along with most of what happens in Pisa.”

“You have a television, too?”

He chuckles. “A television?” The director lifts his head upward like he’s going to talk into the wind. “Screens on.”

Suddenly the bookshelves that were there a minute ago are gone. I mean, I’m not absolutely sure they were ever there in the first place. It’s hard to say. What I know is that dozens of screens surge to life and hide the walls where the bookshelves used to be. One, then another, light up until they stretch all the way back to the doorway. Even the window behind the director suddenly lights up, showing a view of the gardens on the rooftop. The black clouds replace the white and the gray skies remove the blue, and again I’m staring at the crapsack junk heap of a world I live in.

He looks at me. “I see everything, Jackie. At least, as much as a single human being can see. It is my job, and I am the only person in the Tower that is given this responsibility. Only a person assigned to the position of director is given access to this much knowledge, much like your father is the only person allowed so much knowledge of the Creep. Every man and woman to their task, and none other. The left hand cannot know what the right hand is doing.”

“Why?”

“Because too much knowledge makes the people discontent,” he continues. “You already see it on Floor 1. Who seems happier to you, Jackie? The people on Floor 1, that live their daily lives consuming Voluptas, or the people on Floors 10 or 11 that can honestly celebrate the Scavenging?”

My teeth almost drain the blood from my lower lip as I try to figure this out. “The more you know, the less happy you are?”

“Jackie, I am the least happy of all the people in Tower Pisa, because I alone carry the burden of knowing there is no leaving this place. All we can do is keep the Creep at bay. Now, imagine if everyone that lives here knew the truth? That the stories they clung to were false? What then?”

“They’d… they’d…” I know what he’s saying. I don’t completely believe The Book of the Tower myself, and that’s already depressing. “They’d get desperate.”

“Exactly. As of now the lower levels believe that Floor 1 is securing the future for them. The Scavenging gives them hope and brings new and exciting times to their lives. They believe that the technology we acquire will help battle the Creep. It might not be enough to make them happy, but it’s enough to keep them content. Meanwhile, those on Floor 1 know that everything we do is futile. You’ve already seen it, their condition. Why they need the Voluptas.” He chuckles as he folds his hands on the desk. “Now imagine with me. What if the people of Floor 1 stopped taking Voluptas?”

“They’d get… sad. Depressed.”

“What if they stopped doing their jobs?”

“Then the Tower would stop functioning.”

“And what would the people of the lower levels do?”

I look down, shrugging. “I dunno. Get angry. Curious. And like I said, desperate.”

“What you mean is more desperate than they already are. And what happens when 15,000 people, all at once, suddenly get depressed and desperate? How do you think the Creep would react?”

My eyes shoot up to his. “Oh my God.”

He leans back in his chair, his folded hands resting on his chest. “Which is why I alone am given the duty of watching the Tower and soaking in all I can about its daily functions. So it was decreed, long ago, by the Builders.”

“Who were they?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why are we here? Why did they build this tower?”

“Again, sadly, I don’t know.”

My fist slams the table. “Why not?”

The director leans forward, smiling, but he looks sad at the same time. “Because memory is painful. I’m not sure even I want to know why we’re here. What caused us to be here? It’s hard to discern the truth in our stories, but one constant lies in every part of The Book of the Tower: that, once, we brought the Darkness upon ourselves.”

He gestures around. “If a man is not remembered, did he ever exist?”

“Well, yeah, he did. Right?”

“How would you be able to tell?”

“He leaves something behind. Something he owned or thought was important.”

Director Pygmalion’s lips curve halfway. “And when those are gone? Did he ever, really, exist?”

What am I supposed to say? I don’t know and he can tell, so he continues, “A society, on the other hand, isn’t quite the same. With so many people, something inevitably gets left behind.” He points to the ground beneath us. “The Tower is a perfect example. But why was it built? What was its purpose? You can’t destroy every relic of the past, but you can wipe out the memories of why they were created.”

“But why are we wiping those out?”

“Is a man guilty of something he does not remember?”

I feel like he’s playing mind games with me, so, for a minute, I’m just staring at this guy. I mean, seriously, I have no idea what he’s trying to tell me. “I’m really not getting you. What do you mean?”

“Take ten people in a room. One person kills another. Everyone knows who the culprit is. Then, their memory of the killing is erased, and the murder weapon removed. Is the man guilty?”

“Of course he is!”

“According to who? Who will accuse him?”

I’m stuck. I’m for real stuck; I got no way of answering this guy. “I… Someone. Someone has to be. Right? Of course, he’s guilty.”

“No. He’s not. He’s not answerable to himself or to the people around him. Neither will they expect him to answer. Now, what if all those people were guilty of the murder?”

“How can everyone be guilty for one murder?”

“What if they all took knives to the victim?”

“Well, I mean, then everyone’s guilty of it.”

“And will everyone feel guilty?”

“Maybe not everyone. But, c’mon, most of them would. I think. At least, I hope.”

Pygmalion lifts his finger. “Exactly. Now you’ve got them all trapped in a room they can’t escape. You’ve got people feeling terrible about murdering an innocent man, a few that don’t, and you ask them to stay together for a few days. Perhaps a few weeks. What happens when those that can’t take the guilt demand that justice be done? What happens when they demand accountability?”

I say, “I don’t…”

“What happens when you take away their food and water and tell them only one side can have any?”

I stutter, “I just…”

“What happens when those that feel comfortable with murder decide they’re unwilling to share food and, worse, are willing to hide the truth?”

I stammer, “It’s not that simple…”

“What happens, Jackie, when you put that much pressure on people?”

I drop my head. “Things go bad.”

Pygmalion snaps his fingers, and a few of the screens grow humongous. He waves at one. “Behold,” he says, getting up and staring at it. “A husband and wife, both wealthy by any standards of the Tower. The woman, a doctor charged with cultivating the Creep for use in Reinforcement. The man, an athletic instructor that secretly despises the use of that practice.” He turns toward me. “He can’t admit it, of course, but I see it, in his face. Each time the Reinforcement is broadcast, I see the small strokes of his face, the cringes he makes. Should his wife tell him she’s in charge of creating that same substance?”

My mouth drops. “What? They don’t… they don’t talk to each other? About what she does?”

“No one in Science is allowed to talk about the specifics of what they do,” he says, leaning in at me. “You know that, though.”

“Dad…”

“Precisely. You know he and your mother chose to live on Level 4. Because of the sensitivity of their work, they would have been first choice for Level 1, but your father always was a bit of an unusual one. We knew that from the start, but he always complied with the rules so we had no reason to ever intervene in his life. His first violation of any Tower rule was, indeed, his rescue attempt of you.” Pygmalion smiles, folding his hands behind his back. “A man, a society, we are only what we know and remember. Even marriages are built on a single thing: knowledge. Interrupt that balance in an individual, a relationship, or an institution, and it can come crumbling down. We are the only people of our species, Jackie. This institution, this tower, cannot crumble.”

Pygmalion pauses and tucks his hands behind his back. “If we remembered what we did? It might destroy us. All we know is that as long as the memory of those days is gone, no one can be held responsible. The knowledge, the memory of it, would change who we are as a people. Why? Because memory defines what we are as well as how we perceive those around us.” He walks back toward the desk and sits down, heaving a heavy breath. “I’ve had many years to think about that.”

“And you can live with those answers?” I ask. My face feels like it’s been soaking in a bowl of hot water.

“Can I live with them?” He looks away, to the wall. “I have. For years. For decades. After all, it was due to just that ability that I was chosen by the last director. While jobs are chosen almost entirely by the council, there is one single job outside their jurisdiction. Only the director can choose his successor. Only we have the knowledge necessary to make the decision.”

By this point my hands are shaking. I can feel them trembling on my knees, and I look down, trying to stop them. I can’t deal. “This is so sick, man. You’re just up here living in this luxury getting anything you want, and you… you just watch these things, like they’re nothing! These Reinforcements. These people dying on the Scavenging. You never try and stop it.”

“Throw the Tower out of balance, and the Tower falls,” he says. “Even I am a prisoner of another sort. I cannot usually intervene in the actions of the Tower. That’s why there is a council. They perform the Reinforcements for the people of Level 1, they run the Scavenging to entertain the Tower, and so on. They come to me mostly for counsel with novel situations. That is my purpose, my function, in this tower. Everyone’s knowledge is limited as much as possible to their circumstances. I am the only one whose knowledge is broad, and so, when circumstances are new or unique, they send me a request.” He taps the desk in front of him, and a keyboard appears, shining with light through the white surface. “They don’t even bother to come see me. They simply send a request by mail. During the last Category 2 Incident, they asked me how to contain it. During this one with Sally, they again came to me. I recommended working with you and even suggested your father’s plan to them. A director is expected to have just a slight capacity for prediction.”

He pauses, laughing. “When Abbott didn’t know whether to concede to your father’s demands, they allowed me to make the call. As you can see, I’m quite the novelty piece. You are, in fact, my first physical visitor in many years. I am known only to a few, and even they view me with suspicion and fear. They especially fear me when I decide to intervene, and that fear is so great it could easily tip the balance on Floor 1. Yet they know it is their role to bend to me. However, ask them to bend too much, and the relationship between the council and I would break.”

“Fine, I get it. You’re some supersecret observer that has to act like a backup because everyone else is so stuck in their own roles or work that they can’t figure out how to react to new circumstances. God, it’s like taking care of children. So, why am I really here then? Why did you call me up? What, are you choosing me as the new director or something?”

“You?” He laughs really loud at the suggestion. Insultingly loud. “Do you really think you could keep all this a secret?”

The director’s got me there. “Well, no. I might be able to do it for… I dunno… a year?”

“I doubt even that, Jackie. No, what you are here for is something else. You are here because we’ve had two Category 2 Incidents almost a year apart from each other. They’re becoming more frequent.” He stops and looks down at the desk, his eyes dancing around for a second. “No. That’s a lie. That’s not the reason. It’s just an excuse I’m telling myself, and you.”

“Okay. Well, what then? You just want someone to talk to or something?”

“Not at all.” His words are coming slowly. Seriously, I think he’s about to tell me he’s about to have a heart attack or something, and I clutch up for a second. “The reason you’re here is because I’m going to grant your request.” Edward’s eyes crawl back up to mine. “I’ve chosen you to be a Scavenger.”

“What?” In my head the words echo around like they’re being blasted through a megaphone. “You want me to do what… ?”

“I saw you fighting, Jackie. For someone with such little training, your natural skill is exceptional. Your mind is incredibly sharp and can potentially rival your father’s. The Scavengers need that.” His hand lifts up, and he sighs. “And things will have to change. The Scavenging will have to change. I’ll sell that to the council, though. I’ll tell them that the reason we’re changing the Scavenging is because we need new ways of entertaining the population, especially on Floor 1. We’re going to shift the Scavenging’s focus from reclaiming material from the lower floors to exploration. To going as deep down Tower Pisa as possible.”

For a minute I just sit there, looking at this guy. He’s just freaking me out now. So, I’m sounding like a broken record, but what else am I supposed to ask? “Why are you doing this?” is about all I can manage at first. Like I’m an idiot. “I just, I can’t… You just got done telling me all this stuff about how you can’t tip the balance, can’t destroy the institution, this Tower shall not fall, blah blah blah. Now you’re completely changing the direction.”

Pygmalion smiles, pointing to me. “I also told you that memories make us. Memories are the most powerful form of knowledge. And that, in the end, there will be those who are unbothered by the sins they are guilty of, and those who are.”

“Right. So…”

“So, the man that I was when I became director was content with holding the bloody knife. The man I have become, and his many years of knowledge and observations, is not.”

I just stare at him from across the table, and there’s just this tiny… and I mean miniscule… part of me that starts to feel bad for him. “So, what you’ve learned changed who you are.”

“And what I’ve seen. Because all I’ve seen, all those memories, have created the man that stands before you.” He laughs. “I’ve spent decades watching the world. Now, before the end, I want to impact it, even if that impact is small. The director I choose to follow me may learn from what I have done. The memories of my actions may help mold him into a different man than I. Hopefully a man with a bit more boldness that I lack.”

“So, what is it you want me to do?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Pygmalion gets this devilish smile on his face. “I want you to get out. It’s the only way I know of that could change the Tower without destroying it. If we knew there was an escape.”

“And if we can’t?” I ask, thinking back on how hard it was to take Sally down.

“Then I suppose we’ll just continue on like we always have. For as long as possible.”

There’s no easy way to react to this. He’s offering me something I’ve wanted my entire life, but that was before I knew it was just entertainment for a bunch of snot-nosed rich jerks on Floor 1. Plus, how do I even know I can trust this guy?

Thing is, I know there’s only one answer.

“Fine,” I say, looking up at the ceiling and hoping I’m not nuts for agreeing. “I’ll do it.”

“I knew you would,” he says, bowing his head. “As I said, it is part of my job to be predictive, although there was always a slight doubt.”

“So, what now?”

“Now? Now you and your father go home. Now I have the audio listeners removed from your room. And tomorrow, you start getting ready. You start getting ready for the Scavenging.”

There’s something about that. Something about how he says it. I just… I have to smile.

“Yeah… yeah, okay. This is… this is great.”

“Is there anything else before you go?”

“Actually, yeah,” I say, my mind racing as I think about what’s coming next. “You don’t happen to know what happened to a guy named Mike, do you? He was part of the last Scavenging.”

“I am aware of him. Unfortunately, even as great as my knowledge is, it’s not infinite. All contact with the team was lost following an incident deep inside the Tower. I could not tell you whether he’s alive or not.”

“Oh.” Dammit. “Okay, that’s… that’s okay. Is it all right if I make part of the exploration a search for them? For Mike and his team?”

“Hm. A rescue story? That would certainly please viewers. Yes, I think that would work. The council would be even more willing to approve that. We’ll call it the Second Scavenging.” He shakes his head, tapping on the desk. “A wonderful idea. Yes, Jackie. I’ll make sure it’s all approved. And believe me, as callous as I may sound, I do hope with all my heart that you find your friend.”

I’m biting my lip as I nod, and then I just kinda get up to go. I don’t have anything else to say as I shuffle off beneath the lights of images broadcasting down on me from throughout Tower Pisa. Huh. Tower Pisa. For the first time in my life, I know what this place is called. Anyway, I’m just starting to put my hand to the door when I hesitate and look back toward the director. Pygmalion’s already working at something on his desk when I interrupt him with a final call. “Director? Edward?”

He looks up from his work, like he’s surprised that I’m still here. “Oh? Yes, Jackie?”

For a second I don’t know whether to ask it, but I have to. “I’m just… I was just wondering. You’ve got eyes all over the Tower, right?” I pause one more time before I ask. “So, what are the Angels?”

Pygmalion laughs and looks back down at his work. “Jackie,” he says, “you should know better. Angels don’t exist.”

Recording Forty-Three

It took exactly one day for the Morale officers to have flyers pasted up and down every floor proclaiming “The Second Scavenging,” starring the first girl from Floor 4 to ever go on a mission. Better? It was to be a daring rescue into the bowels of the Tower to find the last scavenging team.

Whatevs.

But… I kinda liked it.

Don’t get me wrong. Mom and Dad aren’t thrilled… but I think they kinda knew, somehow, that it’d always turn out weird with me. I have a pair of weirdos for parents in the first place, so, of course, I turned out the same way. Dad’s a little less worried than Mom. He says my batting skills are gonna come in handy.

I don’t know about all that.

Funny thing, though. I decided I really am going to take that bat. I named it Lil’ Slugger just because I’m a cheeseball like that.

Jokes aside… it’s pretty freaking serious business. I’m about to go into a two-week training course. They say they’re gonna build on everything I learned in the basic combat training we all get, so, who knows, I may turn out to be a real beast. Maybe even tougher than Janet Amato.

I don’t know. There’s a lot of things I don’t know.

I do know that in a little over two weeks, we’re expected to head down. I’ll be going with Abbott, who is still a major pain in my… well, I shouldn’t insult him since he’s gonna, you know, be my commander. But, that’s cool. I’ll put up with it. I’m heading into the Creep with a bunch of vets, plus a few rookies, if I understand it all. They say they’re not too worried about the psychological aspect with me.

Remember, I’m the girl that would go down into the lower levels for fun, not to mention batted the head almost clean off of Creepy Sally. I got some guts.

It’s weird, though. It was just a few weeks ago that I was recording these things to keep my sanity. Now… I dunno. What you leave behind is important. It reminds you what you are, or were. It helps you know who you are, or want to be. And you never know, maybe someone else comes along one day and learns from you.

Psh. That’s way too deep for me right now.

I’ve got more important things to think about at the moment. Like, I need to get my hair braided. It’s a bit too natural for my liking at this second, so it’s basically everywhere. That mess just isn’t going to work in the Deep Creep. Never know when something’s going to grab at you, right? So, I don’t need my hair making me an easy target. Anyway, after that, I feel like I should, I dunno, spend time with Allison. I know I can’t really tell her anything… but, dang. Maybe I really should just, you know, have one more dance party with her.

I mean, I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again once I go. And suddenly the experiences I take with me seem more important than ever.

Man. I kinda feel… I dunno… scared… depressed… something.

Change can be scary.

But this is it. I’ve been asking for it, one chance to see what’s out there. If we’re the only ones. Now it’s coming true, and I can’t stop thinking about my life here.

Life’s funny like that.

Anyway, I don’t know if I’ll be able to record much anymore. I mean, I’m going to be training, then there’s the whole situation of being dozens of stories down inside of living muscle tissue. Not exactly lots of time to record, I’m guessing.

Not that I know for sure.

You know, I remembered something today. I hadn’t thought of it in a while. I’m glad I did. It reminds me of why I’m here, at this point in my life, in the first place. Actually reminds me that it has a lot to do with my parents and how they turned out to be, well, the people I remembered.

I was with my dad and mom, and I must have been around eleven at the time. Guess it doesn’t make much of a difference. Anyway, we’re at the baseball field on Floor 9. The big lights are glaring overhead. We’re there early, before anyone else, and Mom’s behind home plate. Dad’s on the pitching mound, and he winds up. Guy throws the quickest fastball I’ve ever seen.

Thing is, when I swing the baseball bat… I connect. Ball goes flying until it bangs off the back wall and goes bouncing into the outfield. Mom and Dad freak. I mean, they just completely lose their heads. Dad runs over to me, and him and Mom are just, you know, being parents. They’re hugging me and jumping. I’d never hit a home run before.

Mom drops down behind me and squeezes my shoulders. “That’s amazing! You’re going to be so great when you get older!”

Then Dad takes a knee and slides off his only “NY” baseball cap. He slaps it on my head and pulls it until it’s snug on my skull. Goofball’s just smiling like he’s nuts. “Knock ’em out of the park, Jackie.”

Yeah… I will, guys. I’m going to make you proud of me.

I’m a Scavenger now.

So, Mike? If you’re down there in the Tower? I’m coming. It’s my turn to save you.

And then?

Then we find out what’s down there.

Way past Floor 21.

Author’s Contacts

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Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this work may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without written permission of the publisher.

Published by Kindle Press, Seattle, 2015

A Kindle Scout selection

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Content

Jason Luthor
FLOOR 21

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

THE GIRL’S STORY

Recording One

Recording Two

Recording Three

Recording Four

Recording Five

Recording Six

Recording Seven

Recording Eight

Recording Nine

Recording Ten

Recording Eleven

Recording Twelve

Recording Thirteen

Recording Fourteen

Recording Fifteen

Recording Sixteen

Recording Seventeen

Recording Eighteen

Recording Nineteen

Recording Twenty

Recording Twenty-One

Recording Twenty-Two

Recording Twenty-Three

Recording Twenty-Four

Recording Twenty-Five

Recording Twenty-Six

Recording Twenty-Seven

Recording Twenty-Eight

Recording Twenty-Nine

Recording Thirty

Recording Thirty One

Recording Thirty-Two

Recording Thirty-Three

Recording Thirty-Four

Recording Thirty-Five

Recording Thirty-Six

Recording Thirty-Seven

THE SCAVENGER’S STORY

Commander Vick’s Report Number One

Commander Vick’s Report Number Two

Commander Vick’s Report Number Nine

Commander Vick’s Report Number Thirteen

Commander Vick’s Report Number Sixteen

Commander Vick’s Report Number Seventeen

Commander Vick’s Report Number Eighteen

Commander Vick’s Report Number Nineteen

THE BATTER’S STORY

Recording Thirty-Eight

Recording Thirty-Nine

Recording Forty

Recording Forty-One

Recording Forty-Two

Recording Forty-Three

Author’s Contacts

Copyright