Aerith stood by the edge of Nowhere, right in front of the rock walls that she so often took refuge in. Her head was cocked to the side slightly, and she was absentmindedly stroking her collarbone, staring straight at the bleak, gray surface of the rock that caged everyone in. Her arm stretched out and stroked it. The surface was texture less. Just like the coveralls that she wore, that Chors wore, that Jeace wore, that everyone wore. Texture less as the crumbling building. Texture less as everything but the Games headquarters.
She couldn't help but think of Above, if she climbed that wall fast enough, before the Roks noticed her and tried to stun her down. Would she reach it, the aboveground? The place she, everyone, was from?
Again, Aerith knew the memories were there- the memories that had been stripped away for eight years- right on the brim of her memory. She imagined a miniature of herself inside her head, reaching out as far as she could, standing on the very edge of her toes, trying to bat them closer.
But when her hand touched the rock again, she felt... metal. Something only the Games headquarters was made from. The rock wasn't metal. She knew that. Something huge. Ancient. It hadn't been used in centuries, but somehow it was preserved.
"This, my children, is a train. It's a very old object, and used to be used for transportation." The children gasped. How had it moved? It was so huge, it would never get anywhere. "A mineral that we no longer have would be placed in it, and it would run on a track. If it ran off the track, it would lose its way, and nothing good would happen. Moving on..."
Aerith gasped, and tried her hardest not to fall over. Her knees were shaking, and she wanted to fall over in delight. Sure, she thought, maybe the memory was false- her imagination, so vivid, Chors had always said- but... a train. A... a runaway train. Were they all on that, she wondered? Was she a train that had lost its track?
"What's the matter, Aerie? You trying another escape? Let me tell you, it doesn't look good on your evaluation." She spun around, hoping no one had seen her momentary breakdown. The key to survival in Nowhere was totally hiding yourself. If she showed the slightest bit of emotion, she knew she was vulnerable.
But it wasn't an enemy she saw. She recognized the faint limp, the unruly black hair and vivid green eyes, the scars and wounds on his face that were replaced daily and never seemed to heal. She swallowed down the stone that had lodged in her throat. "N... nothing. Just daydreaming."
Chors scowled. "You know that's not going to get you anywhere. The dreamers are the ones that get crushed. Better not start hoping or you'll just get thrown away." There were times like this when Aerith had a hard believing he was the same person who had taken her in when she was seven years old and scared to death. Sure, he looked after her- but Chors was so serious, so hard, she had a hard time spending too much time with him.
"I know that. I'm not stupid, am I?" She closed her eyes. She wanted to tell him, so badly- but not here, not where anyone could hear. Someone who remembered would get beaten until they told how- and if they, like her, didn't know, they'd die for sure.
Aerith did not want to die that way.
That night, when the lights were dimming, they sat in the messily put together hut that served as a shelter for them. Chors leaned over the lamp, looking uneasy, anxious, which he always did. Aerith lay against the back wall, legs stretched out in front of her, arms crossed across her chest. Suddenly, she straightened up as the question she had always wanted to ask came out.
"Chors, do you believe in anything?"
He didn't look up. "Yes. I do. I believe in hell, because we're standing in it. None of that other stuff, though. It's too far-fetched. It's for weak people who think they need to believe in something to live."
Aerith nodded. She had known he'd answer that way. "But you have to believe in something, don't you? Something positive?" When he didn't respond, she added, "If you don't, then why do you live, if life has no purpose?"
"I live, because I have a life," Chors said quietly. "I live because I'm alive, and even though I'm moral less, I don't believe in wasting a life. Besides, I think... I know... this isn't going to last forever."
"So you agree with me, then? That someday this place is going to breakdown and we'll be sent Above?" she asked, hope pouring into her voice. Her track. He was on her track!
"No. Because some of us are going to be sent up there." He looked up and glared at Aerith. "Those of us that have homes to go running back to will. They'll go running back, and their families will graciously accept and apologize furiously. The rest of us are going to be put in some facility and tested on for the rest of our lives."
She was about to say, "That isn't true," when she realized the full meaning behind part of Chors' comment. "You're... you haven't... you were...?" She knew what she wanted to say, what she had to, but...
"Yeah, that's right. I'm prison scum. 100% positive." Chors' teeth were gritted as he said, "Listen to me, Aerie. I've never set foot aboveground. I don't know what sky is. I don't know what fresh air is. Even of I do go aboveground, I have nowhere to go to, and no idiot's going to take in a piece of prison scum. Besides... I'd never be able to adapt."
Aerith said softly, "I don't either."
"No, you do." His tone was sneering. Harsh. Raging. Aerith slunk back against the wall. "You do, you just can't remember it. Poor you."
She had to drop the subject. She knew that. "How do you know, though? Records... and you told me about the drug, so how?"
Chors leaned forward again, sagging, looking exhausted. "You thought all that I knew about the drug was from others, right? Well, you're wrong. One year before you came here. And you know what I remembered, after not eating a thing for almost a week? Nothing. Nothing at all. I have nothing taken away." Chors turned out the lantern and lay down, on his side, as always, and curled his knees up to his chest, like a baby. He always slept that way. It was the only way he felt safe. Protected.
"I'm losing it, Aerie. I know it. I feel like I've been straight to Center and back. I don't know how I'll stand it for three more years." In the darkness, she thought she saw him rocking slightly.
But, larger on her mind, was how she'd spend her two extra years without him.
And she knew, at that moment. She knew that she was a runaway train, but she was running right next to her track. Every day, she drew farther away. Chors, though... Chors was different. Chors never had a track, and right in front of him was a canyon.
They were all trains, and everyone, she knew, Nowhere or Above, had lost their track.
Explanation: It's a dystopia, and it's set in a future where anyone who breaks the law, is unwanted, or is mentally handicapped, is sent to this underground prison that's totally unsupervised. Food is provided, but not evenly- it'll turn up in places, and there are always people killing for food. It's horrible, really. The closest thing to supervision is a weekly check made by government workers, who are called Roks by the inmates, to check the number of dead. There are also lockdowns if someone gets near escape, but those are rare. The Center of Nowhere is said to be Insanity itself, because no one can go the center and come back sane. Because of that, a tournament was created, called the Games, where anywhere from 30-50 inmates raced to the center and back. It's not pretty. People end up killing each other, and the few who come back are locked in a small metal room with no outside communication until one person's left. This winner is promptly taken out and "reevaluated" for leave, but 99% of the time they just get sent back. All arrivals are drugged upon arrival so they have no memories- therefore, no one knows why they're there. They're given a steady supply of the drug in all of the food. Sometimes, those who figure this out will fast for a week or so, trying to regain memories.
Anyway, the main character is Aerith. She came in when she was seven, and was immediately taken in by Chors (who is amazing awesome), who taught her how to survive. And there's also an unnamed MC who's aboveground- see, there, there's a president elected every... uh... couple years. Once they reach 60, the year of "Sleep" (aka death) their given second is in charge until their oldest child reaches 16 (age of adulthood, if they're underage), where they get two years in office. If they succeed and the general public wants them in power, cycle repeats. If not they get "put to sleep" (again, killed) and there's an election. And it repeats. Other MC is 15 years old, one year away from maturity, the president's son. He's never left the estate that the president is given, and then his father gets murdered. Yeah.
I really love this idea, and I'm probably either going to it when my current project dies or for NaNo. :)
Oh, and do you know the hilarious thing about this? Chors and Aerie are the gender-swapped versions of their similar role-bearing counterparts in Lost and Found. I'm not kidding. At least other MC isn't a Nightmare wanna-be. That's be creepy.
