The Named [6/?]
"My name is Ryoma."
No matter how many times she looked over it, the letter made no sense. Those were the only words on the page. There was no "hello," no return address. Just a messily-scrawled, half-intelligible message.
"My name is Ryoma."
It was weird to number 14. Why did it say "name" and not "number?" Why would he not include an identifying number? Why would he use a name for himself? Names were illegal. If she reported him, he could get in serious trouble with Number One.
Yet, she had no intentions of doing so. He hadn't done anything other than contact her, after all. She certainly couldn't turn him in just for doing that. If he proved to be bothersome, then, maybe. But not until then.
She wasn't somebody to cause trouble where it wasn't needed. This was another reason why she didn't understand his contacting her. Who was this boy? She normally didn't associate with strangers outside of the necessary contact on the streets and in the facility. Why her?
She'd stressed over it all night. She'd barely spoken at dinner; her mother had expressed an interest in why she hadn't eaten very much. She'd told a fib for what was probably the first time in her life. She'd said she wasn't feeling well.
Though it wasn't a total falsehood. She had this...unpleasant feeling inside of her. It wasn't painful or nauseating, but it wasn't a good feeling.
"Don't buy in to all of that," her mother had said.
She was always amazed at how perceptive her mother was. It made her feel guilty that she'd even lied to her during the meal. Still, she'd kept her smile and repeated the mantra that she'd been taught from the time she could talk, "Number One will provide."
"Yes," her mother had said. "Number One always provides."
Number 14 knew this. She didn't even believe anything that had been going on in the world around her. The lies about the past civilizations were completely ridiculous. Who on earth would support that sort of blasphemy? She sure didn't! She sure wouldn't!
But the envelope in her pocket poked into her skin as she walked to the bath area in the back of the house. It was sinful to keep such a thing. She should have reported it right away to the local enforcer, but, she reasoned, it's not like she knew who left it anyway. There was nothing they could do. And really, if she had turned the note in, her family would probably come under fire for receiving such a thing.
What she should really do is burn the thing. Tear it into shreds and light it on fire. That's what she should do. Burn it and spread the ashes on the wind.
But she wouldn't. Every time that paper poked her through the cloth, she was reminded of things she'd rather not think about. She was reminded of the helpless feeling that sank into her when the rioters swept her up like an angry sea and carried her wherever they wished before dropping her on the "shore" of an unfamiliar part of the city.
She pushed the button that filled the tub with hot water set at the correct temperature for bathing, and began to disrobe while she thought about all that had happened in the past month. It was hard to believe that it had only been that long ago. So much had occurred.
Just the other day, one of the buildings was raided by a group of people. They still hadn't caught the culprits. It was terrifying. People in the city had even turned up missing. What had become of her beloved home town? All because those students had found that stupid "evidence," as they called it. It was absurd. How could they believe that nonsense? How could they hurt the people of their own town?
Number 14 just didn't understand it. It bothered her immensely.
She tried to let her worries dissipate as she unplaited her hair and sank into the warm, warm water of her bath, but it was so hard to just ignore. So hard. She'd been born into this city. She'd been born to a city that supported Number One's every motive. He was good to them. She couldn't understand another life. This "democracy" thing that these people were screaming about...it was crazy to think about. She was happy with her life. Her mother was happy. Her peers were happy. The old man at the corner store was happy. Why would these people try to ruin that?
Number 14 just didn't understand.
She shook her head in the solitude of the bath area and grabbed the soap to wash her hair and body. She sighed and she scrubbed. She had to get her mind off of this.
Her mind wandered a bit, trying to find a more pleasant topic to settle on. The only other thing she could think of was the work she had to do for her facility instructors. She had quite a bit to get done yet. She'd have to work on that before she went too bed.
She wondered if Ryoma had facility work to do. She wondered what a Ryoma looked like.
She shook her head again, more rapidly this time, and splashed her hands in the water. No, no, no! Her mind HAD to get off of this current train.
She grabbed the bucket and rinsed water through her hair before pulling the plug that would drain the tub. She quickly grabbed her robe from the hook beside the bathing tub and slid it over her shoulders. The air was cold on her wet skin. Making sure to grab the paper from her discarded clothing, she bolted to her room to dress in her night wear.
Soon, she was snuggled up under her covers and staring at the screen of her distributer, her stylus quickly tapping out answers to her assigned questions. The rhythmic tapping of the pen against the screen was the only noise in her quiet room.
Between her warm bath, the warm blankets, and the quiet darkness of her room, she found herself being lulled to sleep. Every now and then, she would jerk awake and tap out a few more answers before drifting again.
The last time she woke, it wasn't the reflex of her body falling from its position. No, if she listened closely, there was a plinking noise punctuating the night.
Number 14 frowned. She looked around her room to find the source of the noise, but nothing was apparent. She wondered if maybe the water was dripping from the faucet in the bathing tub again, but it didn't sound like it was coming from that direction. It sounded as if it were coming from behind her.
She glanced at the wall behind the head of her bed. What would be pinking against the wall? That didn't make sense.
Cautiously, she got up onto her knees and peered over the windowsill. Nothing stood out in the dark, however. There was no moon tonight and everything would be hard to make out in that sort of night.
She pressed the lever that unlocked the seal on the window and pushed it up just a crack. She thought that maybe she would be able to see better without the glare from the inside lights on the window. She still didn't see anything.
"Hello?"
She wasn't sure why she spoke. She surely didn't expect the heavy dark to respond to her.
She was not-so-pleasantly surprised when it did, in fact, answer her.
"Lower your voice."
The voice that spoke them was masculine and low and very pleasing to the ears. If she had been a bit younger, she probably would have done anything that voice suggested. Number 14, however, was 16-years-old. She wasn't so naive to simply listen to something a stranger said to her through her bedroom window.
"Who is there?"
Briefly, she wondered how loud she would have to scream before someone came to help her.
"My number is 47[#]." There was a short pause. "You met an associate of mine earlier."
She couldn't stop her words. "Ryoma?"
There was a long silence and she almost breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that he had left. But, finally, there was a response. "I don't know that...word." There was another pause. "Earlier, you were lost. Think about it. He offered assistance."
She remembered, then. He'd been a strange man, not dressed in the standard-issue clothes.
Thoguths and realizations hit her in an instant. The man had been hanging out in a strange area in strange clothing. The rioters had passed by that area. Her mind made the connection effortlessly. That man was probably part of one of the rebel groups she'd been hearing so much about. And if this man was an associate of that man, then he was probably also a member of a rebel group.
She seriously contemplated screaming, then. She wondered what this man wanted from her. Surely nothing good if he was contacting her through her window in the middle of the night.How long would it take for an enforcer to make it to her home, she wondered.
"If you open your mouth," the man said as if sensing her line of thought, "I will end your life. It will be messing, and I won't enjoy cleaning it up, but I will do it. Understand?"
Absently, she found herself nodding like an idiot. She didn't want to die. She really didn't.
And there was a small part of her that was genuinely curious about this man with the deep voice. Especially since he'd given her his number. She could easily turn him in after this.
"Good girl. You're number 14, correct?"
She couldn't stop her head from nodding. Her own body was betraying her. She shouldn't have told him who she was. She should have lied and made up a number. But, she reasoned, Number One taught that lying was bad; one should always be honest with facts. Especially to enforcers.
"Good." There was a strange sliding sound and number 14 panicked for a moment. For just a second, she thought that maybe this man was going to kill her after all.
Then, a black bag-type thing was sliding through her window.
"In there, you will find black clothing. Please change into those and open your shade when you're finish."
She bit back the reply that came to mind first and simply nodded again. After clicking the switch that lowered the shade, she unzipped the bag and pulled out what the man had said would be in there.
She half-expected him to want to watch her to fulfill some sort of sick perversion or something. She was genuinely glad when he said otherwise.
There was something to cover her legs from her waist to her ankles, then something else to cover her upper half. There was also a black robe-looking thing that had a part that came up in the back to cover her head from behind. She shed her sleeping clothes and changed into them. It took her a bit since they were different from what she worse on a daily business, but she had no trouble figuring out what went where.
She flicked the switch on the wall to raise her shade and wondered just why she was being so cooperative. Perhaps it was the idea that he could--and would--kill her without a second thought if she tried anything funny? Just thinking about it in those terms turned her stomach.
"Good. In your clothing storage area, pull out an everyday outfit and put it in that bag. You'll need it when we're finished."
"U-um." She frowned at her stammer. "Finished with what?"
"I'm not at liberty to discuss. Do what I asked, please."
She found herself nodding once again at her unseen visitor. She ran to her storage furniture and pulled out the silver bottoms and long robe that told others she was a facility member, and, after folding them neatly, packed them in the black bag.
"I'm finished."
"Slide them through the window."
She did so, a bit confused. She really wanted to know where they were going, and why he wanted her to be the one going with.
"If you stand on the rails of your bed, you should be able to slide your feet through the window." His tone sounded almost bored, as if he'd said these exact words hundreds of times.
The bad feeling that number 14 had previously felt increased tenfold. She suddenly thought of all the missing people in town lately, and deduced that this guy and his friend must be behind it. Her mind raced, trying to figure out ways she could escape without getting caught and killed.
"Don't think about it. Slide your feet through."
"Eh? Think about what?" His words surprised her out of her thoughts.
"Please don't insult my intelligence. You were thinking of escaping just now. They all do. Come quietly and there won't be trouble."
She still hesitated.
A sigh came from the other side of the window. "Think about it this way, 14. If you scream, they will catch you in these clothes. What do you think Number One will deduce about you if you're seen out of your house in something other than standard issue?"
She hesitated again for a different reason, the horror of her current situation dawning on her. He was right. If she were caught right now, she'd be punished. Number One would probably assume she was a part of a rebel group. She might even be killed for it.
She must have made a sound or a face because the next thing she heard was a short bark of a laugh. "Now you understand. Good to know he didn't find an idiot this time. Come now, through the window."
Number 14 would have asked who this "he" was, but she was sure the man wouldn't answer her. Instead, she followed his directions and slipped her right foot through the window, using the wall to balance herself as she slipped her left through. It was a weird feeling to be sitting on her windowsill. The ground wasn't that far from where she was, but she'd still get hurt if she fell from this height with nothing to catch her.
She'd be lying if she said she didn't consider simply jumping and hoping for the best. She bet that this number 47 guy wouldn't expect that.
As soon as she was settled, however, an arm went around her waist and pulled her from her perch. She couldn't help the small squeak of surprise that slipped free at the strong arm around her.
"Don't make any unnecessary noises," he scolded.
She whispered a half-sincere apology and tried to keep quiet as he lowered her into what she thought might be a safety harness of some kind. She heard a quiet beep and felt them begin to move. They could have been going down, or up. She had nothing visual to use as a reference point.
Before she knew it, they had come to a stop. Sounds she barely recognized as switches and the clinking of metal on metal. Unceremoniously, she fell from the harness onto the ground. She only just managed to catch herself with her hands.
Slightly annoyed, she thought that the guy could have at least had the decency to tell her that he was letting her go first. It dawned on her, however, that she was now on the ground while he fiddled with the harness, by the sounds of it. She was free while he was distracted. She could made a break for the back door of her house.
She realized only after she'd crawled a step that she didn't have her card required to unlock the door with her. Not having her card meant having to knock and wake her mother. That meant that her mother would see her outside part curfew in this ridiculous outfit. She would get reported for sure.
No, she decided, it was probably better to just go with this guy and see it was that he wanted. She could worry about running away if things got bad.
A finger poked into her shoulder. "Let's go."
She nodded, her unbound hair flying into her face. She hadn't had time to let it dry and plait it before she'd been visited.
"Right."
It was weird walking around past curfew, she decided. The streets were completely devoid of activity. Though, she noticed, they had mostly stuck to alleyways for their travel. She couldn't quite tell which direction they were going in since she'd never traveled that way before.
She tried to keep track of the number of turns they'd made, but she'd lost count. She never knew her own city could be so winding and confusing.
Finally, after what felt like hours of walking, they stopped. He put a hand on her shoulder and whispered for her to stay where she was. She obeyed. It would be silly to run off now when she didn't even know where she was. This, on top of the fact that it's completely dark out, had her straining her ears while she stayed exactly where he left her. She knew she was in an alleyway, but that was the extent of her knowledge.
A hand grabbed hers all of a sudden and pulled her out of the cover of the buildings she stood between
"It's here."
"What is?" She asked, but didn't receive an answer. She had the strangest feeling that she was somewhere familiar, but she couldn't place it.
"The buildings here. You saw them earlier, yes?"
It took her a moment to understand what he was talking about. The image of the three unmarked buildings, standing proud amongst the others came to mind. "Yes."
"Good."
He rapped lightly on a door after dragging her up a short flight of stairs. After mumbling off a string of numbers that she didn't catch nearly enough of, the door was opened. She was dragged in, and it was shut behind her.
Her captor pointed to a chair that sat in the middle of a dark room. A dim light stood next to it. "Sit."
She did, taking the chance to look around her as she did. It looked like they were in some sort of lobby. If she squinted, she could make out the information counter at the far end of the room. Unlike normal lobbies, though, the floor of this one looked unfinished, and there was no other furniture.
There was another person in the room with them, she noticed, but they were far away enough from the light that she couldn't make anything but a basic body shape out.
Number 14 reasoned that she should probably be terrified as her captor pulled out a small pocketknife and approached her, but she wasn't. She should be screaming bloody murder, but she didn't. She didn't even want to. He hadn't made any attempts on her life yet. In fact, he'd even preserved her modesty by allowing her to change clothes with her shade pulled down. He could have been much more cruel.
The knife, as it turned out, was handed to someone behind her that she hadn't noticed.
"What do you know about these buildings, girl?" A voice asked behind her.
"What do I know? Nothing!" She shook her head. Was that what this was about? Her accidentally wandering into this area? This was ridiculous!
"Don't lie! You've got such nice unbound hair and I've got such a nice sharp knife. I'd hate for the two to meet."
She chanced as much of a glance behind her as she was willing to risk. The boy behind her didn't look that much older than her. In fact, they probably attended the facility together. He may have even been in her class.
'So young to be doing this...,' she thought.
"I'm not lying! I got carried away by the rioters and when I got out, I was here. I didn't even know this street existed!"
"It doesn't!" A cheerful voice said from somewhere in the room.
"47! Control your pet!"
'Pet?' Number 14 was actually beginning to worry now. Funny that the knife didn't scare her, but these people lurking in the shadows did.
"What do you mean, 'it doesn't exist?'"
There was a sharp tug on her hair and she cried out slightly. "I am asking the questions. Got it?"
She started to nod, then thought better of it. "I understand. But...I really don't know anything about this place. Please, let me go home. I won't say anything to anyone!"
"I don't believe her," the same cheerful voice sounded.
"47! Shut him up!"
"Yeah, yeah." The voice of her captor sounded, followed by his footsteps and a surprised sound.
These people...they were weird, number 14 thought. Their voices, their tones, their words.... They were so different from hers. Not just in the way that men and women differ, but in a much deeper way. She couldn't explain it. They seemed...alive. To a frightening degree.
"Tell me exactly what happened. Now."
Another tug on her hair prompted her to speak. "I told you. I was walking down to the little corner shop to buy groceries when all these yelling people came by and I got stuck in the crowd. I ended up running with them because I couldn't break free from the group. When I finally got free, I was on this street. It's just a street over from mine, but...." She paused. This street was only one over from hers. Why had it taken so long to walk here?
"That's impossible. There's no way you just found your way here. Nobody just finds their way here. We find them."
"Excuse me, but I don't understand the problem. I won't tell anyone anything." The more she said it, the more she realized that she was lying. Of course, now that she knew of the headquarters, she was required to report it. If she didn't, and it was found out that she had associated with them, she would be punished just as harshly. She couldn't have that.
"Liar. As soon as we set you free, you're gonna tattle."
She couldn't very well deny this, so she stayed silent.
"Let her go. She doesn't know anything." What sounded like number 47's voice could be heard.
"Shouldn't we ask 88?" The one speaking sounded like he honestly didn't care one way or another.
"Ask 88 what?" A new voice said. Hard-soled shoes were loud against the floor.
"We caught a little mouse earlier. 47 fetched her. I think she's lying about knowing info, but 47 says to let her go."
"I really don't know anything!" She couldn't stand to just sit there and listen to them talk about her like this.
"This is getting annoying." The deep, smooth voice of her captor was easy to pick out.
"I promise you! I really don't know anything! What can I do to make you believe me?" Her voice was high and fast, displaying the panic she so clearly felt. She really was scared now. What if they truly believed she would turn them in? What then? What would they do with her? They obviously weren't going to just someone go with that sort of knowledge. But what could she do?
"Join us."
If she remembered correctly, the one who had spoken was 88. Judging by how the others were acting, this guy was probably their leader.
"Join...what?" She asked, though she was sure she knew the answer. The light that hovered beside the chair flickered impatiently. She heard a few bodies shifting in the darkness outside of the ring of light.
"Are you that stupid, ahn?" Number 14 thought that he might have taken a step toward her. "I don't think I want stupid people in our group. Stupid people don't have a place here. Are you stupid, girl?"
The assault was harsh. She'd never been spoken to like that in her life; never had she been criticized. "N-no." Her voice wavered and she hated it. She wanted to scream that she wasn't stupid. She wanted to make him believe her. But raising one's voice wasn't polite. It was frowned upon. So she sucked it up and took it. A deep breath calmed her nerves a bit. "I'm not stupid," she elaborated.
"Then who are we, girl? You've figured that out, yes?"
"You're a...rebel group?" Her tone was questioning. She wasn't completely positive that that's what they were, but she had a fairly good idea.
"Very good. Not so stupid after all." He did take a step forward, then. He stood just outside the circle of ambient light. She could make out his height and general body shape, but no features. She wished that he would just cut the dramatics and do it already. "Now what are we rebelling against?"
She opened her mouth to respond automatically, but forced it shut. She knew. Of course she knew. The rebel groups had surfaced only after that supposed "evidence" had been found. The only thing this group would be rebelling against would be what every other rebel group was rebelling. Still, she really didn't want to say it. It made it more real somehow. She didn't want to admit to herself that people were rebelling against her precious Number One. He hadn't done anything to deserve this!
"So?" He prompted. He was probably becoming a bit impatient with her.
"Number One." Her words were whispered. She felt sick and a bit humiliated to speak them. These people...these people right in front of her were the enemy. Even the man that had come to her window. Even if he'd been polite and let her change without peeping. He was her enemy. They were all trying to fight against their leader. It was wrong.
"I didn't catch that. A little louder, yes?"
Her cheeks burned. She had the feeling that he was making fun of her. "Number One." It was barely louder than the last time.
"If you keep talking like a mouse, Ore-sama is going to get annoyed."
She blinked at the arrogant way the man referred to himself. In any other situation, she might have giggled on the inside, but there was no laughter now. She couldn't even muster up a vague feeling of being amused. There was no humor in this situation. She was angry. She was embarrassed. She was confused She was ashamed and humiliated. And, deep inside, she was a little hurt. She wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.
But that wouldn't happen.
Heat boiled and bubbled inside her. Her face felt like it was on fire. She was sure that her very skin was burning. She was angry. She was so, so angry with the other man, with the man that grabbed her from her peaceful bedroom, and with herself for not even trying to escape. She was angry that she even let this emotion take her over. Everything added to and fueled the others.
"Number One!" She shouted, her anger finally getting the better of her. Her hands balled into fists in the black cloth of the strange top that number 47 had forced her to wear. They were still in her lap, but they were no longer passive.
A few light chuckles sounded from around the room. It only served to make her anger stronger.
A strange sound reached her ears, and it took her a minute to identify it. Someone was clapping. Another minute of focusing revealed it to be the leader--number 88. A boot stepped into the light. It was followed by a leg, then the torso, then finally the face. A blue-eyed blond stood in the light in front of her, clapping his hands. A smirk adorned his lips.
"Bravo! Very good." He looked over his shoulder and snapped his fingers. "47! Explain. Ore-sama tires of dealing with this girl."
"Yes." Another man joined the blond in the light. The voice matched what she knew of her captor, but she hadn't been able to get a look at him in the dark. Now that she had the opportunity, she could see that his deep voice caused her to add too many years to his age. He was probably only a few years older than her. Dark hair of an almost blue tint flowed around his shoulders. It was against regulations for men to wear their hair that way, but she didn't say anything. It would be silly. All of this was illegal. They could all be killed for what was going on here.
"We are a rebel group, number 14, yes. We are not fighting Number One exactly. We are fighting the way this country is being run. It just happens that he stands in the way of that. Do you understand?"
"But that's wrong!" She said before she could stop herself.
"No! Another voice said from the shadows. "You think it's right for him to do this? You think it's right? I'll tell you what's wrong about this: nothing. It's the way he runs this place that's wrong. We have no rights. We're like fucking drones!"
She visibly winced at the crude language.
"N-number 39, please!" A voice she didn't recognize reprimanded him.
"Shut up! I'm right and you know it! We're robots, girl. Robots. Do you want to be a robot? Always smiling and doing exactly what you're told? Do you? Do you?!"
He stepped into the light and right into her face. She couldn't help the light pricking behind her eyes that began. She refused to let the tears actually fall, but this was all so new to her. She'd never in her life been yelled at like this. Not even when she was little and ran through the house when her mother warned her not to. She'd broken their screen when she fell into the wall. Even then, her mother didn't yell. She was told that this was the consequence for not being obedient: you lost the things you enjoyed. She was then made to research cause-and-effect and write an essay on how the breaking of the screen could have been avoided.
His brown eyes stared into hers and she had to work very, very hard to meet his gaze. His fire, his passion, was difficult to face head-on.
"Do you?!" he repeated.
"He's helped us!" She averts her gaze, her eyes staring down at her lap. It's the only thing she can make come out. She wanted to tell him that, yes, she enjoys the rules and regulations and strict curfews because it means that everyone can work together peacefully; it makes their country stronger for harmonizing and putting their individual wants and needs and opinions aside.
But she can't make any of those arguments come out right now. Not with those fiery eyes glaring hard into hers. It was difficult to make brown eyes looks anything other than warm and friendly, she thought, but this man--no, boy--made it look easy. He was so, so angry and was so unafraid to show it.
"He's helped us? Is that all you can say?"
Meekly, she could only nod her head. It was the truth. Why couldn't he just accept that?
"You're pathetic," he spat. "Just repeating that spew they shove into your head. Use your fucking brain, girl."
"Number 39!" A hand appeared on his shoulder, but number 14 was barely paying attention. Her entire body was shaking. There were so many things that she felt, but couldn't express. She was scared, yes, but she was also angry. She was also hurt. She was also a bit depressed.
"He's...he's helped us," she insisted with her head down. Try as she might, she couldn't stop the first tear from rolling down her cheek. And once the first successfully made its trek down her face, others quickly followed suit.
She rubbed at her eyes angrily. She was angry that she would show such a display in front of these people. She wanted to yell and force the truth on them. If she could only get her point across, she knew they'd come to see reason. They'd believe again.
But she couldn't. She couldn't even defend Number One. She even sort of agreed with number 39 in a way. She was a little pathetic for not being able to help the one she revered.
"He made our country better! Our...our economy is thriving and our people are happy. Our crime rates are low and everyone has the things that they need. Why would you say bad things about Number One? Why would you fight against him? He's--"
"Shut up!"
Number 39 tore his arm out of the other man's grip. "Shut up! God, you're like a little girl with a crush. Don't you fucking get it? Everything is so 'good' because he controls it all. All of it. Every last fucking bit. And you and every other person in this country just don't get it. If Number One told you that jumping off the cliff would make you happier, would you do it, number...?" He left a space for her to fill her number in.
"14," she provided automatically, though she frowned at the things he said. His anger easily dwarfed and overpowered her meek personality. "And no. I wouldn't."
"You wouldn't? Are you sure? Your precious little Number One telling you that dying would be the best thing for your country's happiness? You wouldn't do it without question?"
Number 14 actually paused and considered this. She wanted to immediately deny his words, but...what if Number one did that? What if he issued something tomorrow that said everyone had to kill themselves? Would she do it, she wondered.
"Number One wouldn't do that," she said finally.
"Yes, he would," the other teen replied. "He already has."
He pushed the other boy aside and stormed off, the one pushed aside quickly following after giving an apologetic wave.
"He...has?"
Number 14 was confused. Had Number One done something like that while she was stuck here? She hadn't heard anything like that otherwise.
"Figuratively," number 47 said from behind her. She'd completely forgotten that he was there. "Number 39 is trying to say that he's killed everything that makes us human, I believe. That is the cause that we are fighting for. Our humanity."
She shook her head. She simply did not understand this. "Our humanity? What more do we need?"
"Emotions, 14. Creativity. Life."
She shook her head again. "We have lives. We have everything we need. Number One provides, always."
Number 47 looked at her with a strange expression. She thought that, maybe, it was pity? 'Why would he pity me?' she wondered.
"We have what he permits."
"Isn't that enough? Why are you all doing this? None of you would be saying these things if...." She silenced herself as the angry teen, number 39, appeared in the light again. She didn't know why, but saying those things in front of him was sort-of...embarrassing.
"Have you seen the stuff we found?"
Surprise widened her eyes. "You...you found?"
"Yeah. We're that group. So?"
He seemed a bit calmer now, and number 14 wondered what the other teen had said to him to calm him down.
"I haven't...not myself, I...." She fumbled over her words. The reporters wouldn't show anything on the air and she hadn't cared enough to go out of her way to look up anything.
Number 39 stared at her for a minute. "Yeah. I figured." He looked over his shoulder and called to someone she couldn't see. "See, 81? Told you she's just repeating crap."
"Number 39...maybe you should just show her...." The voice who had scolded him earlier, 81, suggested. Number 14 was grateful.
"Fine," he said over his shoulder. To her, he said simply, "Watch."
He pulled a strange machine out of a box at his feet and fiddled with what she guessed to be controls. A picture appeared on the small screen.
"Sato!" A child called as he ran across a field. "I'm going to tag you!"
"Nuh-uh, Minami! I'm too fast!" the boy yelled back, laughing. "You can't catch me!"
They chased each other around the field for a long time before the first boy, Minami, collapsed to the ground. "Fine, I give. I'm too tired."
"Sato! Kazue!" A woman's voice sounded.
"Yeah, mom?"
"Dinner is ready. Come inside and wash up, please."
A duet of yeses responded to her and the two boys ran off-screen. The picture went black soon after that.
"This is just one of the videos we found," number 39 informed her. "See how happy those kids were? And you notice they're wearing what they want and just smiling and laughing openly."
"The most interesting thing to us," number 47 said from behind her, "was how they called to each other. There were no numbers, were there?"
She shook her head. "Names," she said absently, remembering the strange letter she'd gotten on her doorstep.
A hand suddenly appeared on each of her shoulders and those same fiery brown eyes were staring into her face again. "What did you just say?"
She was a bit flustered by the proximity of his face. "N-names. They had names. Right?" It was possible that she was wrong, of course. Those could have very well been numbers in the past, but she didn't think so.
Number 39 stared at her for a very long time. So long that she had to look away from the intensity in that face. "I thought you didn't look through the stuff. The reporter's aren't saying shit about what's in what we found. How do you know about the names, girl?"
She shook her head. She didn't want to answer that. She really didn't want to answer that. She didn't want to get any deeper into this than she was already. She really just wnated this to be a bad dream that she could forget about when she woke. She really, really wanted that to happen.
Of course, fate had other ideas. It always did. No matter how hard she tried to be normal, fate seemed determined to make that impossible lately.
"88! 47!" A new voice called out, panicked in the large empty room. It echoed and bounced off the walls, and 88's responding loud hush was almost deafening. "Sorry!" His voice was considerably lower this time. "There are people outside!"
Several things happened at once. Number 88 asked number 47 if he was followed; several voices in the room issued their half-curiosity, half-fear over the situation; and number 39 once again turned those eyes onto hers. "What did you do?"