Chapter 1

Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11

Chapter 1
West Security:
When I enter the building, I enter the elevator. The door to the inside of
the building is the door to the elevator. Its quirky, but cool. Once I press the
right button, the elevator shoots skyward. It abruptly stops at the right floor. I
fetch my stomach from the ground where I left it and stroll into the office I
share with my colleague, Evan.
Alessa, would you mind checking out the 3:53.55pm feed from
yesterday? Evan inquires.
No I reply. I dive into the vids from the day over yonder, and go to
the 3:53.55 image folder. What is it that you are looking for?
The image from the camera on 92 South.
Um hum. I click on the camera image from 92 South, the you
guessed it southernmost security weve got. Up comes an image of
normality: neat, contemporary comhouses slotted together, completely
clean. I spot a dark fuzz in the corner and zoom in.
You don't have to look at it, just send it to me, Evan urges me not to
be nosy, but I ignore him and keep zooming. I can make out a head shape,
arms, legs, and a torso.

Alessa! Evan calls. Please, just send it. But I am intent on finding
out what Evan is trying to hide. I zoom in more, more, more. This is some of
the best technology we have. I can keep zooming. The monitor loads the
image into HD, and I see a person. Eyes that sparkle the brightest, electric
blue I have ever seen. The rest of said humans body is covered in a ninja
suit: all black clothing.
Evan marches over and peers at my screen. In less than a second, he
has clicked out and clicked into my email. He is about to upload the 3:53.55
image, but I slap my hand onto the desk, jarring him from his concentration.
Never mess with others monitors, I say, all sweet and nice.
I told you to send it to me, I needed it 30 seconds ago, Evan
reprimands, frustrated. I will not listen.
Youve never done that before. You tried to prevent me from seeing an
image, I reply, still coating my words with sugar.
Evan groans. Just dont, okay?
I say nothing, just watch him hurry back to his computer. I upload the
image he wants, but I dont send it to him. Not yet. I record everything I
know that is strange about the 3:53.55 from 92 South. It is only after I am
finished that he has access to it.

The next day, I am up bright and early, at the same time as always. In
the mornings, Black City is so quiet, you can hear the birds chirp, the babies
babble, and the squirrels nibble. Well, not really the last one, but it is so very
quiet compared to noon. When I arrive at West Security, Evan is not there,
although he is usually there before me. I unlock our work space and awaken
my computer.
A couple minutes later, Evan arrives. He looks more tired than
yesterday. We greet each other. I return to my constant search-and-find. He
boots up his computer. We dont talk much that morning, except for at the
end. Just out of curiosity, I decide to look at the 3:53.55 image from 92
South from yesterday. I dont expect two ninjas to be there, the blue-eyed
one and another one, with pale brown eyes. I glance at Evan on his monitor
out of the corners of my usually green eyes. I cant tell what color eyes he
has. Are they grey-green? Grey-blue? Whatever the color, I am sure it has
grey. I look back at my own computer before Evan can notice.
But, of course, he does. Alessa, I do not think that we are supposed to
be unfocused.
I laugh. Its only half pretend. May you be assured of my focus
forevermore, I reply.

Evan doesnt seem to trust my positivity. I know you well, he tells

me.
No, you dont, I think.
You are up to something, but it isnt good to dip into others
business, Evan continues.
I drop the smile off the cliff that is my face. What is that supposed to
mean?
Just dont try to peek at my monitor.
Why cant I? You shouldnt have anything to hide.
Its called being nosy.
No, its called checking to make sure that Evan isnt trying to hide
something.
Whatever. Evan returns to his work. I do not.

I know Evan is doing something hes not supposed to, even a toddler
could see that. This is the second day in a row that hes been secretive. If
that isnt a sign, I dont know what is. As I chow down on my delicious dinner,
cooked and prepared by yours truly, I think about what all the Evan
strangeness over the past few days points to. He doesnt want me to look at
what hes doing, or an image he asks me to send him. Im intelligent. I can
figure this out. The image included some ninjas with interesting eyes. Maybe
Evan was in league with these darkly dressed people and trying to keep their
little organization a secret.
I am going to bed. I will confront Evan tomorrow. Ha ha! He shall never
be able to hide any information from me again.

Lo, Evan greets me as I walk in, wide awake and alert.

Good morn. I throw him a greeting too before going to my monitor.
What will I say? I must be tactful. I realize that if I just tell him my theory, he
will thoroughly explain its falseness. Evan, two days ago, I looked at an
image. I just decided tact is irrelevant to the answer I need.
And? Evan prompts me, his countenance showing him to be mildly
interested. I think, rather, he is suspicious.
There was one person dressed in black, a dark fuzz if you didnt zoom
in. The computers we have are the newest. The most updated. There is
something wrong if anything is fuzzy, I tell Evan. One must give him credit.
His face doesnt show any recognition of my point.
Would you like me to check it for you? asks Evan.
No. Yesterday, I looked at the same location, same time, and I noticed
there were two people this time dressed all in black.
3

I dont know where youre going with this, Evan interjects. His face is
a little nervous.
You are part of a secret association. You are doing something in N
South, and I would like to know what it is. N is short for neighborhood.
Evans face acquires a cement covering. She knows too much, he
types on his computer. He clicks Send.
The world goes black.

Chapter 2
I wake up and immediately want water. I look around and see that I am
lying on a white tile floor. The walls and ceiling are also white tile. This room
makes me feel claustrophobic and disoriented. I decide that I will never ever
like this room. I am the only thing in here. No water. I do not see any door,
either. Standing, I stretch my joints and walk over to a random wall. I press
on it, because in movies, there always seems to be a secret door imbedded
in the wall. After minutes of feeling walls, I sit on the ground like a stubborn
toddler. I have looked. Now it is time to think about regrets.
Before I can start, the door opens. Yes, there was a door. It opens down
from the ceiling. A ladder is carefully lowered into this odd place. Evan
descends it.
Evan! I shout. Why why why? Are you crazy?
Alessa, scolds Evan, as if I am a naive child, Please, do calm down.
OMG, no! How can he be like this?! He is so frustrating! He doesnt
have any empathy. Do you think I should be calm when my colleague has
kidnapped me? It isnt like its ever happened before!
This is for our good, so, please, stop thinking about yourself and start
thinking about us.
Whos us? Maybe the ninja people are his cohorts, and theyre trying to
take over and form a triumvirate. I dont know who youre talking about, I
reply suspiciously. I kind of do, though.
Well, you will find out as soon as Gail gets here. Evan glances at a
navy band strapped around his wrist. If you want to make a grand
entrance, you better hurry up, he mutters to the innocent wristband.
Suddenly thump. Something falls to the floor above us. For the first
time, I wonder if we are underground. I also wonder how in the world this
room is alight. Are the walls made of some kind of glowing white tile Ive
never heard of?
A young lady descends the ladder. How one may go down gracefully is
beyond me, but this person achieves that. A shimmery black skirt, like the

bottom part of an empire waist dress, hangs down to her knees. Shining
black flats fit neatly onto her feet, and as her top half comes into view, I see
her (also shimmery) turquoise short sleeved shirt. Her hair is cut in the style
of a pixie cut. It is a flat brown. The woman turns once her feet are grounded,
and when she does, I see that her face is that of a girl in her late twenties,
some years older than me. Her nose is small and pointy, and her eyes are
very pale, but I cant tell their color from this distance. Her skin is fair, with
the bare hint of a tan. The womans cheeks are full and flushed. Was she
recently exercising-in that skirt?
Hello, I say politely. What is your name?
Gail, the young woman tells me, surprised. She turns to Evan. So
polite. How did you find her?
I was raised to be polite, I think.
I work with her. Security, Evan informs Gail.
Gail frowns. She isnt a stickler?
Evan shrugs. She was guessing correctly. I couldnt just let her go.
Gails frown turns up a little. Intelligence?
I suppose. Also observancy.
Good. Gail walks over to me, her flats barely making a sound on the
tile floor. Are you interested in joining us?
Whos us? Gail cant seriously expect me to know what group shes
part of. On a side note, her eyes are pale brown. What is this us you are
talking about? I ask Gail. Evan answers.
The Undercover.
I keep myself from laughing. It is a little obvious to name your secret
agency the Undercover. What do you do?
Our purpose is to overthrow the Ruling Council and-
I interrupt Gails proud explanation. Wait. You are trying to rebel? That
could cause a war, you know. Like the Pivotal War.
Be assured that we have examined the consequences of our planned
actions. We know what they could lead to.
Oh, bla. War rips everything apart. It can shatter lives. Why would one
take the risk of war? War is devastating. I do not care if you think that its
for everyones good, cause its not. War took away- I stop, realizing I have
almost revealed my secret.
Do calm down, Evan says in that same irritatingly parent-like voice.
We have all experienced war.
No, they havent, not really. Not like I have. I have experienced war at
its worst.

We are trying to create better lives for the citizens of the Black City.
We want no harm done. We hope that once we gain supporters, the Ruling
Council will abdicate willingly, and that they will see that they have not been
paying enough attention to the people they lead, Gail finishes neatly. I
admire her speech, but I am still concerned about war.
The Ruling Council is too self-absorbed too go along with your plan,
and you know it. I contradict.
Gail glances at Evan. They, somehow, have an eye conversation. Its all
very well for me. Now I know that they are good friends and have been
working together for a while.
You are a member, Gail says abruptly, then clambers up the ladder
without saying another word.
Just like that? Really? We werent even done with our conversation!
Also, I dont have to prove my loyalty or anything? This is not very secure.
What if a spy from the Ruling Council came here? How would they know? I
cant be a member. I shake my head.
Why not? asks Evan, genuinely surprised.
How do you know Ill be loyal? That Im not a spy from the
Council?
We have our ways. Evan smirks. Were not what we seem.
Oh, wonderful. Being mysterious is the best way to get people to trust
you.
Come on, dont loiter, there are things to be done, Evan urges me,
We must be swift. The others will want to know.
We climb up the ladder and emerge right in the middle of an amazingly
large room. So many, I breathe. There has to be at least a hundred ninja
Undercover. I have no black clothes on, so they must all be able to see me.
Then I notice the sunlight. It streams through a skylight and dives straight for
me, but seems to go through me and into the white tile room. Am I
invisible? But Evan could see me, and so could Gail .or could she? Gail
never touched me. She did walk toward me, but only when I talked to her.
Evan has seen me many times before, so perhaps he is able to look at me
under my invisibility cloak.
Hello? I say to the already-members around me. They should also be
able to hear me. But, none of them answer.
They cannot hear you, Alessa, Evan tells me, as if I hadnt figured
that out already. You are wearing a DullSense cloak.

Cool! This means that maybe I can figure out how to tweak this thing
so that Evan cant see, hear, smell, feel, or taste (weird) me, and I can follow
him around! The best way to get revenge.
Why? I ask. I doubt Evan will confirm the reason I have in mind. It is
that I cant see who they are, and they cant see who I am. Balance.
We mustnt disturb the work theyre doing, though at the moment
they are doing none, Evan replies, rolling his eyes. I flinch, for it is
undeniably rude to do so.
What kind of work?
Training, preparing, etc. Evan peers at me. It isnt obvious?
Frowning, I answer, I thought they didnt know the plan you and Gail
have to take over the world.
We are not taking over the world, Alessa. Our plan is not as terrible as
you presume. We are working out further methods to prevent war, if that is
your problem, Evan says exasperatedly.
You cant eliminate it as a possibility, I contradict. The Ruling
Council doesnt care about us. Why would they try to prevent a war that
would cause casualties on the side they shrug off?
Evan purses his lips. We are trying, he repeats, and perhaps it wont
work. We know that. But we can hope, and so we shall.
I take it you are a leader? I ask Evan. The way he acts, like he knows
more and is above everybody except Gail indicates a higher status.
No Evan replies, But I work closely with some.
Are we going anywhere anytime soon? I wonder, looking around at
the other Undercover. How are we going to get out of this crowd? If they only
see Evan, they will not part to let me through.
Follow me. Evan tells an Undercover to move, and they step to the
left. Everyone in Evans path does the same, and I stick close behind so that
they will not trample me. Evan leads us out of a door at the far end of the
room. We were just in the training facility, Evan informs me as we step into
a long, grey hallway. We turn right. I try to remember this, because I like to
know where I am in huge complexes. Where are we going? I inquire of
Evan. We keep walking straight down the hallway, passing door after door
after door.
Your room, he answers, eyes straight ahead.
And it is where? I ask impatiently.
Here, he replies, finally turning to a door on our left. Alessa, the
plaque in the middle reads. A plaque above it has the number 67. It looks as
if someone tried to do cursive, but wasnt very good at it. Become
7

comfortable, Evan advises, because you will live here for a while. Oh, and I
turned off your DullSense.
A while? What does he mean by that? But I do not question him, just
watch him stride away, back in the direction we came. Well, time to find out
what my rooms like. I open the door by pushing on it. It doesnt have a
handle or anything, so I suppose it is the only way. In go I into a clean, bare
square. A plain birch twin bed sits in the back right corner, made neatly with
spotless white sheets. In the back left corner there is an oak dresser with
varyingly sized drawers. In the front left corner there is a door, and I am
standing in the front right corner.
Hum. I wonder what the corner door hides. I step lightly over to it,
feeling hushed and inclined to tiptoe by the silence and blank simplicity. I tug
on a tiny silver knob in the middle of the door. The middle, yes. Quite weird. I
push, and it swings so fast I barely manage to keep it from crashing into the
wall. Someone oiled the hinges a little too much. The wall is a plain white,
like the rest of the room. There is a sleek multi-option flush toilet on the far
side of the slim rectangle that is a bathroom. A beautiful, modern shower/tub
lines the right wall, and a new-looking porcelain sink with a dark maple
cabinet underneath. A shining black-edged square mirror hangs over the it. A
soft black shag carpet spreads the length of the bathroom. I decide I rather
like black and white, and hurry out of the bathroom to test the bed.
I plop down on the edge. The mattress holds me up, firm and strong.
Good. I dont want to drown in a too easily giving way mattress in my sleep.
The pillow is soft, but a little too stiff. I punch and push it to give it a little life.
Then, I lie down under the one top sheet. The sheets have that starched
feeling, but are wonderfully silky. This bed will be perfect within a week of
being slept in.
What do I do now? Should I try to find the training facility? Should I
explore? My curiosity says the second, my sense says the first. I go with my
curiosity. Why not? I exit and stroll down the hallway. All the other plaques
are unreadable. They have letters I know, and I feel like I should know what
the name of their combination is, but I dont. I continue onward, and realize I
am heading in the direction of the training facility. Its fine. I dont mind if my
sense rebels against my curiosity. Its probably better that way, anyway.
I finally reach the door marked Training, and go in. Undercover, still in
ninja suits, are what? They arent lifting weights or running around a small
track. They are talking, eyes closed and open, looking nervous, looking
confident. As I walk in, barely anybody notices me. One person turns and
8

stares at me. S/he does not seem to notice my discomfort at his/her bold
gaze.
Im Liesel. A girl, she introduces herself, striding over to me. Her
stare isnt any less creepy up close. She leans closer. Youre new.
Yes, I reply nervously, How do you know?
Liesels brows scrunch up. I havent seen you before, and Ive seen
every other member of the Undercover. Were you the one who came out
invisible? Is that why we couldnt see the recruit?
Yes, I say again, more comfortably this time. I am still a bit edgy.
Liesel cocks her head to her left. Oh, she remarks. Liesel is wearing
black like everyone else, but I can see her eyes. They are a pale yellowgreen. Then, she grabs my arm and tugs me to a door on the side of the
training facility.
Where are we going? I ask, surprised. I am not entirely sure if Liesel
will answer.
You need clothes, she reminds me. Like mine.
Oh, wonderful. Im getting a ninja suit!
We walk right in; the door is open. A lady with a messy, bright orange
bun and a ninja suit (her hood is down) sits on a rocker typing away on a
laptop as orange as her bun. Yes, A.? the lady says patiently without
looking up from the screen.
A? Liesel smiles. Let me guess- Annabellinettalise?
If you mean my name, no, I reply, bewildered. How did the lady know
that I was here? How did she know my first initial? How did she know that it
was me that needed something, not Liesel?
Do you need Undercover habiliments? the lady inquires. Yours are in
the next room.
Habiliments? What in the world are those? But I dont have much time
to ponder this thought, as Liesel thanks the lady and pulls me through an
opening beside the rocker. Look. Liesel directs my gaze to a small black
pile of garments on a table in the center. I think those are your
habiliments.
Are habiliments clothing? I ask. I think thats it, but I need to be sure.
Liesel stares at me again. Yes... she replies slowly, studying my face
carefully. Liesel is rather strange.
I scoop up the pile and manage to carry it out of the rooms back to the
training facility. Go change, Liesel shoos me out. Then come back.
Okay. I go through the door marked Training, and walk gently down
the hall so as not to drop anything. Once I get to my room, I go into the
bathroom and change. When I am done, I glance in the mirror. All I can see is
9

cream-colored skin, a couple freckles, and deep blue eyes. Anonymous. Me. I
like it.

Chapter 3
After I got back to the training facility, Liesel showed me around to the
different stations, and informed me of the schedule of the Undercover.
First, we fall out of bed. Then, we dress in our morning wear, (which,
by the way, you are wearing right now. Thats a good thing) and go to
breakfast. After that, we begin morning Freshners. Once those are done and
we are truly awake, we start training. We train til lunch. In the early
afternoon, we plot and plan for the freedom coup. In the mid-afternoon, we
receive special training unique to our natural abilities. Later, we have dinner.
Next we have free time. And bedtime.
What a schedule. I suppose now is training time. Liesel brings me to
where she was before, which is mind control. When she told me the name,
earlier, I got a wee bit frightened. So. You sit in a chair, buckle up, and
close your eyes. Then you think, of anything and everything that is calm and
bland. The chair will start moving. You must keep your mind on that same
thing throughout the exercise. Thats Mission 1, she explains as I look
confusedly at the small area designated for mind control. Shall I
demonstrate?
Okay, I reply, its probably better that way.
Liesel sits down and adjusts the slope, height, and length of the chair
to suit her preferences, then she tells me to press a green button on a
touchscreen tablet on a side table. I do so, and the procedure begins. After
about a half minute, the chair starts to move; curling and twisting in the
oddest ways. I watch, transfixed, as the chair leans so far I think Liesel is
going to tumble off. But she doesnt. This goes on for around a minute. The
chair stops. Liesel gradually opens her eyes.
Get the gist? she asks.
I think so I respond, not sure at all.
Well, then, in, in, in! Liesel exclaims. I dont know why she sounds so
excited. It isnt like I am going to have an epiphany and suddenly figure out
the secret to making the futile Undercover plan work. But I do as she says,
settling myself in the comfy, grey, coarsely woven chair. I adjust it to lean
back slightly, and be at a commonplace height.
Ready? Liesel inquires, enthusiastic to begin.

10

Yes, I confirm, not very strongly. Liesel presses the button.

Close your eyes! she reminds me eagerly. I shut my eyelids and think
about flowers. Red and orange and purple and blue and pink and white
It starts. One moment, I was in flower land, the next, I am being
shaken. My mind tries to panick. No, I tell it, stop. I try to think of flowers
again. Bluebell and lilac and periwinkle and sweet pea and pohutukawa I
tip over. Clutching the sides of the chair, I tense as it rights itself. Petals and
leaves and stems and roots and sepals The chair rocks back and forth. I
struggle to keep my mind on flowers. I try to fill my closed mind with images
I have seen of them, memories of them. The chair bends in an undeniably
bizarre way. I curl my back to match it. Flowers: their scent, their colour, their
slender figure I try to lose myself in them, feel them all around me,
caressing the edges of my mind.
It stops. The motion. Gone. I lift my eyelids and stare at the white
ceiling. That was like nothing Ive ever experienced before.
Fun? Liesel asks tentatively. Perhaps now she realizes that I might
not love this mind control thing.
Um ish-ish, I decide. Its not that horrendous. Its not really
horrendous at all.
Next! Liesel declares, dragging me to the place where people learn
to create falseness, layered and spun right alongside truth. That is how she
described it. I think orthodox people call it lying.
Here, youre going to learn how to deceive, a lady standing there
tells us as we approach. Her eyes fixate on me. You especially.
Why me? Excuse me, madam, but why me especially? I ask,
perplexed. I suspect it is because I am new, but how would she know?
You have not done it before, miss, the lady replies kindly. Now let us
start. One of you, stand here. She points to a certain unremarkable spot on
the floor.
Ill, I volunteer, stepping over to where the lady indicated.
Then Liesel will be the questioner, the lady determines, escorting
Liesel to a spot about a yard and a half away. Now. Liesel, you will ask A. a
series of questions. A. will only answer them with part truth. Start now.
What sorts of questions should I ask? Liesel inquires. Shes new, so
not the usual ones, I surmise?
What can you think of? the lady challenges.
Where do you live? Liesel begins, looking at me hesitantly.

11

I live in a simply furnished, modern, wee little house, I begin. The

adjectives are true; but I dont live in a house. It has a couple rooms,
perhaps 5 or 6.
The ladys oculares brighten.
How do you feel? Liesel continues interrogating me, more selfassured this time.
Ah, not much in the way of joyful or upset, I shrug nonchalantly.
What is your name? She shoots the question at me, eyes glinting
with friendly malice.
Alice, I reply, trying hard to keep calm and unfeeling.
And stop, the lady tells us. That was very creative for a first time,
A.
I thank you.
The questions were good, the lady remarks to Liesel.
Thanks. She smiles.
Once we are done, Liesel leads me to the door out of the facility.
Training is over, she announces, suddenly weary. Lunch.
I feel as if I could run a marathon. I usually, at West Security, work
without much rest while ennui courses through my veins. Here, there is
excitement. Now, I am indefatigable.
Liesel directs me right. I drag her (the tables have turned!) down the
austere ashen hall. We are carried along in the rest of the jaded Undercover
swarming into a well-sized room through gold-handled oak doors. The labels
on these read Fare.
Lunch is magnificent. Liesel sighs, slouching forward. I tow her
behind me, pressing through the crowd. Undercover split out from the middle
of the throng, weaving around tables, sliding onto slightly curved wooden
benches. I lug Liesel over to a table near the middle of the room. We sit.
Why are you so exhausted? I exclaim once Liesel is safely seated.
We always are, at the end of training, she replies. Im not sure why.
We are pretty energetic until its time to go. Then our steps falter, and our
eyelids droop.
I realize how competent Liesel is with words. You could be a poet, I
tell her truthfully.
She cocks her head. So could you, she protests.
A triangle rings. How I can hear it above the murmur of the Undercover
is an honest mystery. The cavernous chamber falls silent.
Let us begin our midday meal, a familiar voice says graciously. It
echoes around the gallery. Gail. Is she the queen of this organization? I can
12

just imagine it: Gail perched perfectly atop a throne, selecting a sweet tidbit
from a tray her minion Evan is carrying. I dont have much time to envision
this realistic scene, as doves swoop down from the rafters, plates of food
clasped in their beaks. They deposit the platters in the center of the tables
and glide back up. A couple seconds later, they are back with empty plates
for each of the Undercover.
Steaming meat-and-cheese pies, arranged pleasantly on one food
platter; on another, gouda crumble, tomato, lettuce and sliced celery salad;
on a third, chopped fruit arrayed in a wave. I take a bit of this and that and
start to chomp. Liesel spoons dumpling soup into her mouth ravenously.
Liesel, you look as if you havent eaten for days, I tell her, worried.
Oh Liesel stares down at her plate. It is packed. She shakes her
head. Im hungry, I guess.
My concern spikes. Liesel, are you sure youre okay?
This happens all the time, she says. I often feel this way after
training.
Something is wrong. Liesel shouldnt be like this. Nobody should.
Looking around, I see that many other Undercover are gobbling up their food.
Wrong, wrong, wrong. I glance at the front of the dining hall. I can barely see
over the heads of the others (Im quite short), but I manage to catch a
glimpse of Gail. She seems normal. Her posture is straight, and her slow
chewing demonstrates a lack of starvation. Gail mustve done something to
the food, no, its something else, for Liesel was tired before she started
eating. Gail must be a sorceress

Chapter 4
After lunch (which I enjoy, against my will), we Undercover head back
to our rooms for rest. Oh, do correct me, I meant the Undercover, all except a
couple people, including Liesel (thats why she said there was planning after
lunch). They go to the Plot Hall, which is a quite dilated version of a hall.
Liesel brings me along, as she thinks I could be a valuable contributor to the
scheming.
We arrive. Ah, Liesel, you brought A.? Gail asks Liesel as we walk in
the door.
Yes, Ms. Gail, I thought she would be able to add and improve details;
she seems meticulous, Liesel answers respectfully.
Gail nods. Sly, she replies, smiling. Now, let us begin. Do try to
follow along, A., she adds. If you have a question, ask it politely.

13

I nod.
So. What is that flaw you were speaking of yesterday, Evan? Gail
inquires. Of course Evan is here. Master and minion. Expected.
I was just thinking about our midnight attack on the Ruling Skyriser.
There are so many floors, and we dont know where the Councillors will be.
We are probing the their monitors for that knowledge already, Gail
snaps. Its so palpable. Next!
A ninja with dewdrop-grass green eyes speaks. The Infiltration Party
will consist of our most agile members, correct? Their voice is deep and
manly. Liesel blinks rapidly.
Yes, but also some strong ones, if any lifting is needed, Gail confirms
approvingly.
May you please review the plan? I appeal to Gail with my eyebrows
high, in a minor sort of plead.
Gails acute gaze digs into my skin. Later.
When will we do this? I ask, hoping she will tell me this, at least.
Gails eyes dart around the room. V., tell A. when this procedure will
be carried out.
In exactly 4 weeks, 5 days, and 18.5 hours, V. responds, very specific
and confident.
If there is nothing else, Ive a talk to address, so say what you need to
now, Gail orders.
Nobody talks.
Well, meeting adjourned, Gail declares, and exits. The rest of us
follow suit.
Once everyone is gone, even Evan, Gail turns to me. I suppose I
must, she mutters, and beckons for me to follow her. Gail leads me down a
corridor, turns left, and enters a sun-filled office. Modern, curvy, sleek, white,
birch, medium and dark wood furniture is scattered neatly about the room.
Some unvarnished chairs, a desk, and cabinets rest in various places near
the wall. Gail glances at my countenance. I know it isnt very organized,
she tells me, but this is a way I like, and tis mine, anyway.
Its nice, I reply good-naturedly. And it really is. White windows with
no old-style curtains. Trim and cool.
Sit, Gail points to a dark wood, simple chair with two metal triangles
at the bottom, as legs. I do. Gail pulls a similar chair across the hardwood
floor so that she is sitting opposite me. As Ive no doubt you already know,
we plan to contain the Ruling Council and propose to them the option of
abdication, in favor of a more democratic government. Yes? Gail says,
impatient to get onto the next fractal.
14

Yes. I affirm quietly.

In a bit over a month, Undercover will form into 3 groups: the
Infiltration Party, the Guard Party, and the Monitoring Party. These groups will
each carry out a separate job. The Infiltration Party will be in charge of
confining the Council to a couple floors in an Undercover safe house. They
will not be confined to the Ruling Skyriser. They know that building too well.
While this is going on, the Guard Party will make sure the Infiltration
Party has a clear way to success. They will guard the Infiltration Party,
obliterate protection-related obstacles, and, when the Ruling Council have
been collected, keep them from slinking away.
I notice you refrain from saying capture, kidnap, escape, etc. What
you are doing is that, and all know such, I remark when Gail pauses to take
a breath.
Gail narrows her eyes. That isnt our intent, she respond with
daggers laced into normal words. We arent the cause of this. The Pivotal
War and the Ruling Council are the two main factors.
But if you hadnt decided to rebel, you wouldnt be. Its obvious. You
are a cause too, it being your choice to concoct a conspiracy.
Twas the Undercovers, Gail protests calmly.
Youre their leader. You brought them together. You fuel their day-today lives, I retort.
The glare Gail gives me could almost singe my skin. How would you
know? she hisses.
Well. She certainly has a quick temper. It isnt that difficult to guess.
Let me speak. I am silent. Gail continues. The Monitoring Party will
communicate with all parties, making sure that all is going smoothly. If there
are unanticipated problems, the Monitoring Party will be in charge of
mending them. This will be carried out at around 1:00-2:00 in the morning,
when most citizens will be asleep. Our goal is to carry this out as discreetly
and noiselessly as possible.
What about the Ruling Councils families? I ask, afraid the
Undercover have overlooked this crucial detail.
They will not be involved in this, Gail answers, her voice softer. We
will inform them of the condition, reasons, and comfort of their relative, but
they wont be allowed to influence the Ruling Councils decision.
Why not? Surely they would lean more towards abdicating
peacefully if they were reminded of their family.
No. Their family shall not be concerned with this, Gail says firmly,
stubbornly, even.
Okay then. Well. Is that all? I question Gail tentatively.
15

I suppose so. Gail sniffs and waves me away. Go train.

I go to my room, pull off my hood, and brush my wavy hair. It settles in

a complementary way around my face. Drawing it into a ponytail, I stride out
of the bathroom. My hood goes over my head.
Off to the training hall I go, la, la la, la la. I reach the now-familiar door
to the facility. When I enter, Liesel rushes over. Theres the obscure A.! she
exclaims, seeming quite joyful to see me.
Hello, I greet her, surprised.
Quick, she urges me, go to the lady in the green ninja suit. Shell
assess you for your natural abilities.
Why quick? I ask.
Liesel wrings her hands. We could be together! she replies. Go.
I walk calmly towards a lady in green all the way on the other side of
the training facility. You. She points to me. Come here.
Yes? I respond a bit timidly.
Stand up like a metal rod, the lady commands.. Taller! Are you that
short?
Yes, Madame. I think I must show respect to this leader-like figure.
Her lips purse like theyve just tasted a sour lemon. The ladys pale
eyes scan me from head to toe. Sit, she directs. I slide into a wooden chair.
It looks a lot like Gailss chairs. The lady touches her palms to her temples,
then to my temples. Her eyes close and she sways slightly. After seconds,
more seconds, and more seconds, her eyelids flicker open and she stares at
me. You have managed to obtain an unusual talent, she tells me.
Thank you, I reply, somehow calm.
Go to Dare, the lady instructs quietly. She will teach you all you
need to know.
Who I inquire.
Navy blue. The lady points to a ninja with a deep, ocean blue suit.
Thank you, I say again, dipping my head. I speed walk over to Dare.
New; Dare remarks as I reach her. I havent seen you before.
I nod.
Did Chasla tell you your talent? Dare asks graciously.
I shake my head.
You have the talent of Pasmi. That is what we call it. It means
passionate mind, like an emotional person. You have the ability to introduce
emotions into others minds.
That can be a good or bad thing, right? I say, a bit stunned by my
supposed talent.
16

Yes; it is what you choose it to be, she replies. Now. First things first.
You must learn how it works: how to do it and what it should feel like.
Okay.
I will push some despondency into your mind. I shall not use my full
capability, but be prepared, Dare warns.
Do I have to close my eyes or anything? I want to know.
No. Im initiating the process.
I wait for something, anything melancholy. Then, an image pops into
my brain. It is of me as a giggling baby, being held by a lady and a man. My
parents. I never knew my parents. They died some months after I was born,
in the Pivotal War. I think of all the joy I couldve experienced, with a loving
mother and father, all the places we couldve gone, all the hugs we couldve
shared My eyes start to seep tears, and I fight to eliminate the
heartbrokenness that seems to spread from my arteries outward, coursing
through my veins.
Did you feel it? Dare inquires.
Yes, I respond tiredly. I wonder if bedtime is soon.
Good. Now, do you feel up to trying it yourself?
Sorry, but I am a little- I yawn -exhausted.
Dare smiles lightly. Understood.
A chime rings, the sound sweeping throughout the cavernous room.
Dinner? I wonder.
Yes, Dare confirms. Vamanos!

Dinner was scrumptious. Steaming Pesto Cavatappi and Linguine

Alfredo. Grilled chicken fajitas. Bowlfuls of pho, with beef and basil. I tried not
to eat a lot. I did not see Liesel,; I sat beside Dare. We talked a bit more
about being a Pasmi. She is, obviously, one, and has been practicing for over
a decade, since she was a child. I asked her why they do not mention special
abilities in Preparation.
If people knew they could do these things, an uprising against the
Council would be more likely to succeed, she replied. Makes sense. Now I sit
on my stiff bed, pondering my current situation.
Wait oh my gosh, how could I forget? Nobody has been doing the
security work Im supposed to do today! Aaaah! Wheres Evan? I dash out my
door at the speed of light, barreling down the hallway, fervently scanning the
nameplates to see if any of them say Evan. Nope nope nope nope there! I
skid to a stop, pivot, and knock on the door. I am astounded that my urgency
has not caused me to bang on the door.
Yes? Evan opens the door. He stares at me. Alessa. Why-
17

No time, I interrupt, and barge right in. Evan shuts the door behind
me. You know how we work at West Security? Well, wont they notice if
nothing happens there?
We have people on that, Alessa. Evan sighs. There is hardly
anything we miss.
So you mean that other people are working there instead of us?
No, they are simply standing in, Evan counters.
When will we go back?
Evan raises his brows. Do you wish to?
Maybe, maybe not, I say, undecided. And didnt you leave the
Undercover while you were there? I dont think were confined to this place.
Where are we anyway? Ive only seen six rooms, well, now seven, but-
Stop. Calm yourself, Evan interjects sternly. You are in an
Undercover compound that is hidden beside a normal, everyday building.
Youve probably seen it before, the normal building. Before you ask, the
reason why you cant read most of the plaques is because they havent
trusted you with their real name. You havent even met most Undercover. If
you have heard a persons full name, their plaque will be clear.
Okay. Lots of sense in that. Thank you, I speak serenely, and turn,
ambling out the door. Perhaps I can find Liesels room. I turn right again, and
go down the corridor, looking over each gold inscription. Bla bla bla bla
maybe I should go left bla bla bla bla bla bla bla alright, Im going left. I
head down the opposite direction. Bla bla bla bla bla Evan bla bla bla
bla me bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla Liesel bla bla wait, was that just
Liesel? I whip around and zoom towards her door. Knock knock knock-knock
knock.
There is a bit of shuffling, then a call: Who is this? in a lilting voice. It
sounds nothing like Liesel.
A., I announce loudly.
This is what I hear: A.?
Shes new. Liesel.
Dyou know her?
Yes.
Does she have a talent?
I dont know! Open the door! The entrance bursts open to reveal a
slim, tall ninja. Their hood is down, showing slightly red-tinged blonde curls,
chocolate-brown eyes, and tan skin.
Liesel, whys she here? The girl peers at me, her thin, short, freckled
nose turned up in the air.

18

My friend, Jessica, Liesel nudges Jessica to the side so that she can
talk to me. I apologize for her rude behavior. Jessica, this is the mysterious
A.
If youd only warn me before you invited another person over
Jessica sighs, rolling her eyes.
Sorry for coming over without being invited, I apologize speedily, my
face sinking.
Oh, no, its fine, Liesel reassures me. Thats just Jessica. She doesnt
give the kindest first impression.
No kidding. I walk in and find myself in a room identical to my own,
with the exception of navy polka dot bedsheets and a large bookshelf, some
very big bean bags, and a sleek reading floor lamp. You can personalize
your room? I ask, my mood lifting.
Yeah. Liesel smiles. Like it?
I nod. Very cool.
Excuse me, but we were having some friend time, and you just barged
in and interrupted it, Jessica comments audibly.
Shes just upset cause I was about to tell her something important,
and she never got to hear it. Good timing, Liesel explains slyly.
Jessica glares at Liesel. Cmon, you arent being nice either. And you
know it.
Liesel narrows her eyes. Cant you be friendlier?
OMG, Liesel! Jessica exclaims frustratedly. Im out. She wasnt
kidding. Jessica stomped over to the door, threw it open, and banged it shut
behind her.
Im really really really really sorry, really sorry, for interrupting! Really
really! I didnt mean to! Should I leave? I think I should leave, I say in a rush.
I feel like a trash can filled with moldy bread, Grinches, and odorous, year-old
banana peels.
No, no, no, Liesel protests. I must apologize a thousand times for
Jessica. It is I who should be apologizing. Actually, its Jessica who should be
apologizing. Liesel scowls at the poor door.
Okay I let my voice trail off, as I am not sure what we are going to
do. The moment was kind of broken by Jessicas annoyance.
Lets read, Liesel suggests. We go to her bookshelf. A wide variety of
books are displayed on the shelves. I see The City of Ember, a book I meant
to read, but hadnt yet gotten the chance to. Its quite old, from decades ago,
from before the Wall. I tug it out of its position and settle onto a beanbag. I
open the cover, and the words start whispering.

19

Chapter 5
We should go to bed, Liesel remarks after a long, joyous time. I do
not know how long it has been, for good books slip me into their world, and
hardly let me go.
Youre right. I get up, put my book back, throw Liesel a Thank you
ever so much, and stride out the door. Heading back to my room, I decide to
ask Evan tomorrow about personalization.

I awaken by myself, in the starched white bed. It feels more

comfortable after a nights sleep. I suppose I should go to the dining hall for
breakfast. This is what Im wondering: do I have to wear the same clothes
every day? I peer in the top drawer of the wardrobe. Socks, underwear,
scarves, hats, and gloves galore! The next drawer down contains a couple
casual outfits, probably for normal outings. The final drawer has copies of the
habiliments I received yesterday. Good. I slip one of the sets of
accoutrements on, brush my hair, wash my face, and out the door I am. To
the dining hall!
I try to remember where it is. Past Evans room, I think. Then I
start to walk. And walk. And walk some more. Passing Evans room, I wonder
if he is already there. Probably. For apparent reasons, of course. I keep going,
my feet still contained in my comfy navy and white sneakers. I wear them to
work, as I stand about all day to prevent a widening of my torso. My feet get
tired, as Im sure anybodys would. Then I see it. There is an end to what I
thought was an everlasting hallway. Oh it makes sense that they would put
the largest room at the end of the hallway.
I enter, and see people talking all over the massive room. Im surprised
the leaders have managed to find so many people who will willingly join their
cause. Wheres Liesel? My eyes search, but, as I am so tiny, they do not find
success over so many heads. I slid into a nearby seat and think about what
this day will bring. More training? It seems like my life will be boring until the
rebellion starts. Dont get me wrong. I dont want it to happen. That brings
me to another thought: Why am I even here? If Im not a supporter, why
havent I left? Is there some little part in me that wants revenge on my
parents behalf? But it wasnt the Ruling Council who started the War, it was
the Rebs. My stomach clenches. The Rebs. They are the reason I dont live
under a dictator, but also the reason I dont have a mother and father.
Just then, the food arrives from the rafters. I thank the eagles. I get a
sense that they are not ordinary eagles. But nothing here is ordinary, so I

20

might as well get used to it. For breakfast, there are platters heaped high
with waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, and various morning vegetables and
fruits. There is also oatmeal and cereal, for the less ravenous. I take a dollop
of hot, oozing oatmeal, some brown sugar, and plain Greek yogurt. It seems
to me that a mixture of those three simple ingredients would result in a tasty
morning bite. They do, but I yearn for some vegetables and fruit, so a bit of
each goes onto my plate. I dont feel at ease here, under the watchful eye of
the snow-white eagles.
When breakfast is over, an energetic procession of Undercover march
out of the hall, quite the opposite of yesterdays lunch crowd. We go in the
direction of the training hall, and, sure enough, that is where I find myself
after we stop. I glance around for Dare or Liesel. I know it will be hard to
discern Liesel from the rest of the identically-dressed ninjas, but perhaps
Dares marine blue clothing will be visible. But I dont need either of them
to train this time of day, so I wander over to a station called (from the neon
green banner draped above it) Keeping A Cool Head .
As I approach, an Undercover turns from where s/he is working at a
table near the back. Have you come to learn? s/he asks expectantly.
Yes, I reply.
Now, now, do you know what this means? s/he challenges me,
pointing at the banner above. Its voice does not sound distinctly like either
genders.
Focusing in the midst of an unpredicted situation? I guess,
pretty sure Ive got the general idea.
Just about right. The ninja nods approvingly. A lot of things can
go wrong in any plan, so you must be able to concentrate on your mission,
and not let your feelings take over.
Mm-hm, I say.
To start, Ill give you a situation, and you will tell me how you
would handle it.
Okay.
You are standing in the middle of a pool of quicksand. You are
sinking, and there is a tree just out of arms reach above your head.
First, I would relax as much as possible. Then, I would compress
my energy into a tiny ball and use that to propel myself out of the sand so
that I can grab the lowest branch.
The Undercover blinks rapidly. Interesting.
Did I do anything wrong? I inquire. I havent ever been around
quicksand; people say its just a myth.

21

Everybody has a different reaction, the instructor reassures me.

Next one. You are drinking a cup of water. It keeps refilling, and for some
reason, you cant stop drinking. You know that if you drink too much, you will
dissipate.
Oh. This will take a bit of thought. But if this were real, then I wouldnt
have time to think. Uh I break the cup? I say, hoping that is possible.
Okay. The ninja nods.
These are more riddle-like than unpredictable situations, I
remark casually.
Theyre just warm-ups, the instructor smiles coldly.
A shiver creeps down my spine. I think Ill try something else, I
say, edging away.
The ninja turns away. Have fun, it calls.

I went to the truth and lie station, spending the rest of my time
trying to discern what parts of the instructor ladys comments were true and
not true. Its exciting and absorbing. I dont even realize how much time Ive
spent there until the lady says Lunchtime, A.
The Undercover seem just as tired today as they were yesterday.
I refuse to succumb to the common feeling, though it threatens to overrun
me from within. How in the world will I ever find Liesel? I stand up on my
tiptoes and squint through the people. Theres Gail, and Evan, anonymous
people Jessica, and Liesel. I dont really want to sit with Jessica, though. Oh
well. Maybe I can talk to Liesel at the meeting after lunch. Lunch is as
delectable as the day before. Again, I only nearly fill my plate, and eat no
dessert.
I head to the meeting room. When I enter, I see only Gail, the greeneyed person from yesterday, and V. No Liesel. No Evan. Odd. Where are the
others?
Doing something else, Gail responds, displeasure clearly evident on
her young face.
How long has this been going on? I wonder. This place, and its
routines, are well established.
For a bit under a year, Gail answers pridefully.
I suppose youre the founder?
Gail stares icily at me. One of them.
We dont even need to meet anymore, V. interjects. Weve got it all
planned out.
True, the green-eyed ninja agrees.
22

I suppose not. Off with you. Rest, Gail dismisses us, shooing with her
hands.
Yay! Now I can go find Liesel. If Jessicas there itll complicate things,
but Ive always been a peacemaker. I stroll down the hall, a bubble of felicity
welling up inside me. Despite the situation, I feel nice. I reach Liesels door,
and hesitantly knock.
A.? Its Liesel!
Yes, I tell her.
Come right in, she invites me warmly.
I open the door. What would you like to do today? Liesel asks.
I shrug. Whatever you like.
No, youre my guest. You tell me, she counters.
Your hospitality, Liesel, is worth a choice, I protest.
Oh, please. Liesel laughs. Just say something!
Oh, alright. I submit to her kindness. How about wait, have you
ever met Evan?
Evan, as in Gails minion?
Thats what I think of him as too.
Then yes. I have met him.
I was going to ask him about how to personalize my room, but I think
you will be a better advisor on that, I explain, smiling.
Thank you, Liesel says, bowing her head. She is unable to hide her
grin of pleasure. So, what do you want to know?
How do I get started? I inquire first.
Well, you go into the door to the right of the training room, and in
there is a furniture store, basically. You pick out what you want and bring it
back. Simple, Liesel discloses.
Thank you, I reply. Would you like to come with me to get some
basics?
Sure! Liesel exclaims joyously. Perhaps I will stay after all. We go out
the door together, and start in the direction of Training. What will you get?
questions Liesel.
Perhaps a little couch, a floor lamp, a bookshelf, a mirror, pale blue
bedsheets, some books, an alarm clock I brainstorm, my mind a picture of
my room after its sprucing up.
Sounds good, Liesel acknowledges.
Suddenly, something comes to me. How did I wake up on time for
breakfast?
One of the leaders sends out a wake up brainwave when its time,
Liesel clarifies for me. We come up to the door Liesel mentioned. I push on it.
23

It gives swiftly and easily, swinging open almost too fast for me to take a
step to avoid going with it. Inside, all sorts of casual, modern furniture are
arranged in a most becoming way. Liesel helps me find what I want. Its
nearly a warehouse, she comments after weve found all but the alarm
clock. Were carrying the floor lamp, the mirror, the pale blue sheet set, and
a stack of highly rated books.
How will we transport the large things? I ask.
Just tag them with this. Liesel picks up a small square of white cloth
from a pile on a white bedside table. Write your room number on it, the
date, and your first initial. Deliverers will bring it to your room.
Who are the deliverers? I say, neatly writing all the necessary
information on the square.
Im not sure. Liesel cocks her head. I never thought of that before.
Hm.
I label three cloths (the third is in case I see something huge I like), and
we go to the bookshelf area. I select a slightly shorter than me oak
bookshelf, and tag it. Then, we go to the loveseat area. I select a multi-shade
grey weave and tag that. I think thats it, I conclude, glancing around the
expansive, sunlit furniture store.
On our way back, I decide where to put it. The mirror will go above the
wardrobe, I determine. And the wardrobe will have to be moved next to the
bed, and then the book shelf will go in the corner, facing the door. The couch
will be along the left wall.
Liesel nods absently. Then, I realize we have passed my room. Turn,
Liesel, my rooms the other way, I direct.
Oops! Liesel laughs. I join in, my muscles loosening in this normal
activity.
Once we come into sight of my door, Liesel fixes her eyes on the name
plaque and stares at it. I cant make out the name, just the first letter, she
murmurs.
Of course, I respond, I havent told you my full name yet.
I know.
I push open the main aperture. Liesel and I go over to my bed and
carefully lay our burdens down. Aah, Liesel sighs, rubbing her arms.
It was that heavy? I question, surprised.
No. She grins. But it always feels good to be free.

24

Chapter 6
Once weve hung the mirror, arranged the books, made up my bed
with its new sheets, and set up the floor lamp, Liesel announces that it is
probably time for special training.
By the way, why werent you at the meeting? I inquire, still
bewildered.
Gail said I didnt have to be, Liesel replies.
Okay. I accept Liesels reason. Gail did release us for lack of
something to talk about.
We exit my quarters and locomote to the training facility. See you
later, I say.
Goodbye, Liesel tells me, then disappears amongst all the other
ninjas. I begin todays search for Dare. It isnt too hard to spot her, but it
would be less difficult if not for my height. I complain too much about what I
cannot change. I should embrace my shortness.
Dare and I work on feeling various emotions. Some of them are: joy,
anger, confusion, embarrassment, and the like. All the most basic ones. Time
flies by, and before either of us know it, its dinner. The same chime rings
out, resounding and deep.
Dinner today is themed New South. Baskets of corn muffins, saucy ribs,
grilled corn, vegetable salad, bread and butter, and pasta casseroles. I heap
my plate a mite higher than it was at lunchtime, and dig in. I nosh it quickly,
it being quite gratifying, and rub my stomach to ease its digestive travel.
Once all is done, I join Undercover as they head to their rooms for a bit of
rest. For me, the late evening will bring a continuation of The City of Ember.

I rise, eat breakfast, and go to training. To my luck, I spot a pair of

yellow-green eyes under thin, pale eyebrows some yards away. I hurry over
to the Undercover. Hello, Liesel, I greet her.
Liesel? Whos that? asks the ninja in a manly voice. Un oh.
Oh, sorry, I thought you were someone else, I apologize, thoroughly
embarrassed.
Wow, youre a blusher, the boy says. I could just die.
Sorry again, I say, taking a step back.
Ah, no, its fine, the boy replies. Whats your name?
Alessa, I respond, before realizing I shouldve just given my initial.
Im too used to giving my whole name.This boys a stranger, and he knows
more about my name than Liesel!
He laughs. I cant believe you fell for that, Alessa. You must be new.

25

Whats your name? I ask.

Ha, ha. Ill tell you anyway. Its Matthew, Matthew says goodnaturedly, offering a gloved hand.
Nice to meet you. Well, Ive things to do, so bye, I announce. I begin
to turn away.
Cmon, would you really leave a fellow like that? he speaks.
What, do you want me to help you with something? I inquire,
still a little tired.
Its always good to meet new people, he points out.
Okay, okay, I relent.
He leads me to a weight training station. Oh, seriously? You just want
to show off your manly muscles, I snort.
No, Matthew retorts. I need to get better.
So do I, I reply, and get to it. We lift weights, do arm pull-up thingies,
and an exercise Matthew calls the plank. You put your elbows together on
the ground, curl your hands into fists, then stretch yourself out straight and
put your lower body weight on your toes. Matthew can only do it for a minute
and 23 seconds. I can do it for 2 minutes and 58 seconds.
You have muscle, Matthew remarks when I finally collapse.
More than you, I suppose, I pant.
Matthew laughs.
I give him a glare.
Touchy, he tells me mischievously.
Lets go to emotion control, I suggest, my breath coming back.
Follow the leader, Matthew says amiably. We head to emotion
control. The chair still sits there, but there is another beside it. Are you good
at this? Matthew asks.
Ive only done it once, I respond vaguely. It isnt really his business.
Ive done it quite a few. Matthew sits on one of the chairs and shuts
his eyes. Press the button.
I tap the green button and watch the chair contort. It sinks, goes up,
flips (!) and rests, gently swaying, as if to a light ocean breeze. All done,
Matthew announces, sliding off the polished wood. Youre up!
Nerves dance within me. I sit stiffly on the chair Matthew did not sit on,
and lay there, playing a sweet melody only I can here. It was preset to a
nearly bed-like position. I pendiculate in preparation.
Can I press the button? Matthew says, startling me out of my world.
I blink. Alright, sure.
This time, I am ready for the rollicking, dangerous coaster ride the
chair gives. I am somehow attached to it by a powerful force. Instead of
26

thinking about something else, I focus on the danger of this exercise. Or,
rather, its complete safety. You wont fall. You wont fall. You wont fall
Its done. I jerk up from the seat and nearly topple.
What?
Its over. Matthew peers at me. It went still about half a minute
ago.
Oh. Well, thats interesting.
Come on, Alessa, off with you! Matthew says. Do you need help
getting up? he adds in a kinder tone.
No, no, Im fine, I reply, and push myself off the chair. Yawn.
Youre tired, Matthew points out.
No dibs, Sherlock, I retaliate. Its one of those really old sayings
nobody gets. Whos Sherlock? Why are there dibs?
Matthew cries, You have wounded my heart!
Get over it, I snap, not meaning to sound quite so angry. Sorry, that
didnt come out the right way.
Matthew smiles. Ah, I am reinstated in the place of honor in your
heart.
It takes me a moment to figure out what he means. No, no, no, I
protest. Someone needs to teach him a lesson in forwardness. So. Where
should we go next?
Just then, a bell clangs. Lunch. But why didnt I hear it for the past few
days? Weird.
See you later, Matthew waves, grins, and disappears into the crowd.

After lunch, I go to my room to see if the deliverers have brought my

furniture. My couch and bookshelf sit, waiting, by the door. Theyre on carts.
Oh, thank goodness. I burst the door open and put down the doorstop. Then,
I lean on the back of the couchs cart and push with all my leftover strength.
I heave it across the floor of my room.
Settling the cart is slightly difficult, because of the centuries-old guy
Einsteins theory that all objects in motion will stay in motion unless
stopped by an outside force. Well, apparently, the couch is about to crash
into the wall. Bah, Albert! I run in front of the slow, but steady, cart and press
hard on its front. The wheels squeak as if they are mice, and reluctantly
ground to a halt. Phew. Thats one step but Ill need another person to help
me lift the couch off its personal carrying device. I stand back from the couch
and stare at it, hoping that somehow, my magnificent glower will cause it to
levitate. Unfortunately, it refuses.

27

Miracles do happen! There is a knocking on the door. I walk all the way
across my white as white room and crack it open. Liesel, cheeks flushed,
gulping air, stands outside my entryway. Have I ever been so glad to see
her? Come right in, I invite Liesel, swinging the door wide open.
Its a miracle that I found you at all, she huffs, shutting the door
behind her. I only know your first initial, so I guessed this was yours after a
couple mishaps.
Oh, sorry, I apologize profusely. My name is Alessa. If Matthew
knows, so should she.
Liesel beams. Alessa, she says, trying it out. Its beautiful.
Thank you heaps, I respond blithely. Now, may you please assist me
with the ceremonial placing of the couch?
Id be ever so happy to, Liesel declares. We deliver the couch to its
rightful place, and land the bookshelf.
Thank you, I convey my pleasure and gratitude.
Oh, my pleasure, Liesel replies.
We pass the rest of rest time conversing about the training. I do not
deign to tell Liesel about Matthew. It just feels awkward.
Liesel reports that it is time for special training. How do you know? I
inquire, baffled.
Brainwave, she answers, and needs not to say any more.
Once in the training hall, I find Dare. She greets me. Today, you will
start projecting emotions, she informs me. To start, I want you to gather up
all your worries. I do so, pitching in my worries about security, discovery,
Liesel, and the rest of the Undercover. Hm. I expected to have more.
Now, focus your worries on me. How do I do that? I stare at Dare,
and toss my worries about in my head.
Now throw them at my heart and mind. I thrust them as far at her as
I can, trying to keep them contained in one silver bullet. Dare but flinches.
Seeing my stricken countenance, she reassures me, Dont worry, with
practice youll get better. And Im being serious. That was excellent. You just
didnt have quite enough feeling behind it to seriously impact my emotions.
Honestly, Im amazed at how little worry is in me, I comment.
I wouldve thought, with my current situation, that I had a payload.
Dare nods. Often, I startle myself with the strength of my
feelings.
I keep throwing emotions, such as joy, sympathy, curiosity,
depression, and befuddlement (the last one is the most powerful). I gradually

28

learn to use more force in my strikes of feeling, and Dare confirms that I am
improving.
When it is dinner, I search for Liesel. To my utter relief, she isnt sitting
with Jessica. I go to Liesel, and sit beside her. Do you have a special ability?
I ask, dying to know.
Doesnt everybody? she replies, taking a slice of what looks
like chicken pot pie. Liesel seems touchier than earlier, and she doesnt
explain, so we eat in silence. As soon as she is done, she leaves. Just like
that, without even saying goodbye. Something is wrong, of course, but I
think I shall find out later. Fatigue sweeps over me like a gentle sea wave,
and I head to my room, planning to read a bit and retire early. I am sucked
into The City of Ember, and must grudgingly yank myself out for a bit of rest.

The next day is about the same as yesterday. I go around to

different stations with Matthew (he found me), eat lunch, rest, read, and talk
with Liesel, propel inflicting emotions with Dare, eat dinner, and socialize
more with Liesel. The days slip by. After a week of similar happenings, I sit in
Liesels room after lunch.
Most days here are the same, I tell her.
The curse of no big events, she replies, looking at the ceiling.
I want to leave, I confide. Ive had this thought for a couple
days now.
Leave the Undercover? she asks, perturbed.
No, this building, I contradict consolingly.
Oh, good. Liesel puts a hand to her heart. I thought you were
going to leave me.
You have Jessica, I remind her.
True, she says, but shes not as kind.
Thats really nice, I voice, a current of bliss lifting me skyward.
But what do you mean by leave the building? Liesel
interrogates me anxiously.
Like, go out into the streets of Black City. Dont you feel
claustrophobic, cooped up in here all day?
No, not really. Im used to it.
How long has it been since youve seen the sky?
This question makes Liesel pause. Oh- she thinks -a long,
long, time.
Dont you want to see trees, flowers, and breathe in fresh air? I
ask, worried for Liesels health. It cant be chipper for her to be stuck in a dull
compound every single day.
29

Maybe, she responds, undecided. What do you plan to do

about it?
There has to be an exit. I was brought in through it, I reason.
What do you mean by brought through? Liesel interrupts.
I was captured by Evan and brought to a white room under the
training hall, I explain ruefully.
Liesels face flips into Horrified Mode. Seriously? Thats how
they got you to join?
Yes, I confirm. Strange, isnt it?
Liesel is still shocked. What? So you didnt join voluntarily?
Kind of I speak, abashed, though I shouldnt be. Evan and
Gail should. Back to leaving. Where do you think the outlet is?
Dunno. Liesel shrugs. Ask Evan.
Dyou legitimately think that he would answer me, much less
tell the truth? I catechize Liesel.
Then how will we find out? she says.
Lets explore! I propose.
I doubt itll yield much, Liesel mutters.
Yeah, I know, I reply. We walk to the eating area and back to
my room, passing Liesels and Evans rooms.
I dont see anything, Liesel informs me conspicuously. I will not
give up.
Lets go to the other end, I suggest. We walk to that end too,
and back. Nada. Well, I guess well just have to look tomorrow, I say when
a thought pops into my head: Special training time.

Chapter 7
Tomorrow, we dont look. A week slips away like water. And then
another. The placid weeks bore me, but I learn much, much more about how
to effectively thrust emotions into others minds from Dare. She doesnt
teach or tell me anything else. I am the only one she instructs.
We must meet today, Liesel urges me, tugging me to the side as
Undercover wash past for their midday meal. Gail says there is only a week
before we do our thing.
Alright, I reply, amazed that Liesel was able to find me in the midst of
all the bodies. Then, the thought springs into my brain and latches on like a
parasite. Liesel, I say, We have to find a way out.

30

You make this sound like a prison, Alessa, she responds, surprised.
Why do we need to leave?
We cant stay for the kidnapping, I tell her. Its going to be very
different.
Liesel, for the first time since Ive known her, snorts, at me. Chill,
Alessa!
I tense. That parasitic thought! What is it doing to my senses? Um,
sorry, I apologize quietly. But you do know that the blame is going to land
on someone.
Liesel stares at me. Alessa, youre usually very empathetic. The
Undercover has to stand together for this.
I dont know what to say or do. My mind is flooded- with blankness. I
hurry into the mess hall.
After lunch, Gail just reiterates the plan, making sure we know the
general idea. The rest of the day? Same old, same old.

Who wants to lead the Infiltration Party? Gail asks cheerfully once we
are all seated.
Me, me, me, V. exclaims, waving her hand in the air wildly.
Ill do Monitoring, Dewdrop Eyes speaks, without a ton of confidence.
A ninja with dark as night, inky black eyes decides to lead the Guard
Party. Im kind of glad Im not leading anything, because Im fairly new to the
Undercover.
Liesel looks slightly disappointed at not being able to lead. Dont
worry, L., Gail reassures her. Youll be with me. Now, Liesel looks nervous.
And you, A., youll be somewhere else. See me after, Gail instructs me.
Its my turn to look anxious.
Afterwards, as expected, we go to Gails office. Its just as neatly
disorganized as it was a couple weeks ago. I havent revealed this aspect of
the plot to anyone else, Gail confides. You wont tell a soul, as they used to
say.
I nod, but Gail has already gone on. We are going to leave.
What? I blurt out, totally shocked. Where?
Away from Cirrus Area, Gail says. The Undercover will start their own
civilization, far away.
Then what do you care what happens to Black City? I inquire. Why
do all this-when youre going to go?
Gails face clouds with a pot of emotions, so thoroughly jumbled I can
discern one from another. Youll see, she conveys, her message vague.

31

Four days before the siege.

Theres no point in running from it.
Its coming.
Gail hasnt told me exactly what my role is yet.
Obviously, its going to be something.
But what?
Gail pulls me back into her office after the meeting. All the leaders
seem to know what theyre doing. You, she orders, are going to lead us
out.
But I have no idea how! I cry. Isnt the Cirrus Wall impenetrable?
You do know how. Gail stares at me, hard. Its in your memory. You
just have to find it.
What do you mean? I question, my heart racing. In my memory? How
does Gail know more about my past than I do?
Your parents found a way, Gail informs me. So shall you.
What? I am completely and utterly baffled.
Gail sighs. Do you know nothing about them?
Zilch, I confirm.
Gail frowns. They were the most influential leaders of their
generation!
Wait. In the Undercover?
Yes, Gail responds. You seriously had no idea?
I was raised by the Warfare Hospitality Society, I notify her drily.
They wouldnt know. Inside, my emotions tumble about in the dryer that is
my heart. My-parents? The Undercover? What?
Gail sighs, again. You could be their legacy, she says softly. You
could rise above all expectations you could be the leader, once I am
through. Anyway, your parents nearly escaped in the War.
How do you know this? I inquire. I am stunned by the fact that all
those years, there was at least one person who couldve told me about my
family, educated me on their heroic deeds
She laughs delicately. They trained me, and we were close. They
werent much older than I.
It occurs to me that Gail may look young for her age, but I am sure she
isnt beyond her 20s. As I was saying, your parents found a way through the
Cirrus Wall. They mustve been supremely intelligent. They nearly escaped
with you.
I couldve been raised in an utopia. Who killed them? I ask, my voice
choking on that word. How did they miss me?
32

Governmental troops, Gail explains shortly, averting my eyes. I

am not sure why you werent killed, too.
Well, Im glad they didnt get me, I remark, But how would I
remember the way out? How do you know they were-died? Who told you?
Security. Barely a whisper. Even back then we had them. Her voice
gets louder. You have an excellent memory. Your parents knew that, and
they also knew that you would remember the important things. Gail looks
me in the eye. Were depending on you, Alessa. You must find the exit.
So much pressure. I, and only I, have the key to Gails plans?
Interesting. When will I begin to search?
Today, of course, Gail replies matter-of-factly. You should get as
much time as possible.
To this I ask, bewildered, Why didnt you start me on this earlier,
then?
I wasnt sure if some things were working out, Gail tells me
ambiguously.
Where do I go? Where do I start? When youre giving someone a
crucial job, they have to know what theyre doing.
Try your memories, and, once youve got a lead, come to me. I will
escort you out, Gail instructs.
I gasp, and my breath catches. Out. Im-finally-leaving? Its too good to
be true. Thank you, I speak, ever more grateful.
For what? Gail inquires, rather flummoxed.
I dont like being stuck in here, I explain.
Oh, you must have claustrophobia, Gail remarks upon my confession.
Claus-tro-phobe-ee-a Ive not heard of that before, I inform Gail.
It means fear of confinement. Gail cocks her head. Its an ancient
word.
I suppose that is my condition, then, I muse, mostly to myself.
Well, are you going to get started? Gail challenges me. Or shall you
just sit here until the end of eternity?
Wheres the best place to dig through your memories? I wonder. I
dont really think Gail will know, as she doesnt seem like the kind of person
who sifts through her memories a lot.
Gail shrugs. I dont know maybe the roof?
Theres a roof yes! Yes yes yes! Where is it?
Ill show you, since you seem so enthusiastic about it. Gail beckons
me to follow her down the hall. We stroll past the countless number of dorms
for other Undercover.

33

Some seconds later, I realize Gail isnt walking with me anymore.

What? I whip around, and see one door nearby softly swoosh shut. My
eyebrows raised, I cautiously pull the door open again. A dimly illuminated
chamber rises high above my head, and I suddenly recognize that there is a
narrow staircase spiraling around the walls. The mellow glow comes from
candles placed in holders scattered up the wall. Little clumps on the stairwell
tell me that someone is on it. Gail, probably. I begin to climb.
Stair after stair. The light gradually brightens, and then, in a flash,
splays out all around me. I shut my poor eyes against the-sun?
Shading my eyes, I peer upward. The sky is a bright-as-bright blue, a
sight for sorely underground-confined pupils. The sun oh, tis a yellow
orange glare, welcoming me into fresh air. I take a deep breath of the aroma
of meadows and rivers. How could I stand being in that - cave for so long?
You look invigorated, Gail remarks, not unkindly.
Fresh I reply. Sun, air, sky thank you for letting me come up
here.
You are quite welcome. I needed a bit of this sort of thing too.
May I access this at any time I like? I inquire hopefully.
Well, alright, but not too often, or civilians will start to wonder why
ninja-like creatures keep appearing on the roof of a nondescript building,
Gail answers reasonably.
Okay, I agree.
Tell me when you are ready to go, Gail instructs, then all is quiet. The
wind flurries through the tree branches and whirls along the street below.
Neutrally-colored cars zip down the street, wheeling around corners,
swerving through pedestrians. The action is down there. The calm is up here.
I yearn to be a part of the normal action below, and not a part of this
ridiculous entanglement. Im tangled in it, just one thread among many. But,
I suppose, an important one. I have to get over a hundred people out of a
supposedly impassable wall. What is beyond the Cirrus Wall?
Why was it built?
I can hardly believe Ive never questioned the motives of the people
who built the Wall. It was always there. It was a part of my everyday life, and
I took it for granted. Was it built to contain us? Or to protect us? If it was built
to contain us, then its a rather good stronghold. If it was for protection, then,
apparently, what is outside can never be faced, for we were never meant to
leave.
The Wall wraps around Black City and East City. It also runs through the
middle, splitting the circular space into two halves. We needed to be
34

separated but wait. The Rebs fought against the governments of both
sides. Therefore, they had to go between the halves. Ive struck gold.
Wheres a Reb when you need one?

Chapter 8
Dare stands next to me. She is gathering her guilt. She tells me guilt
is one of the more difficult ones. I think that that is because ones mind
cannot let go of guilt, and it is anchored deep in ones consciousness. To pull
it out-even temporarily-is to master the emotions within. I dont think Im
there yet.
It comes, in a messy tsunami. Guilt pours over me head and trickles
into my brain. Oddly, I dont experience my guilt-I feel someone elses.

I thrust Lilianne into Calissas arms. Please, I say. Please. For me.
Arent you coming? she asks.
No. I cant. I cant leave Edward, I reply.
Why cant he come?
He has been captured.
What about the other twin? Did you get her back yet? Calissa
murmurs, glancing at the baby she clutches.
I heave a breath. They are using her, I choke out. As a
ransom.
Calissa immediately understands. Will they be released if you
turn yourself in?
I dont know. But its the only way they will. And I dont want a
fight. I want peace. Even if I die I want to know my family survived.
Calissa nods. Ill raise her like shes my own, Helen. I promise.
Alessa. Alessa, Alessa, Alessa. Poor baby. She has no idea whats
happening. I can only hope shes being treated well while I prepare to give
myself to the new government. The Ruling Council. I pick up my essentials,
and hurry to the compound. Hopefully, shes asleep. And ready.
Dare is asleep, as I hoped. Good. I dribble some of my elixir into
her nose. She should digest it within a couple days. Then, Ill be back.
At night, I barely sleep. Guilt wracks me. Lilianne will live a
happy life, with the new way the East City is governed. By the people. Alessa

35

will never know anything but a council of rulers, their power obtained by an
underhanded, bloody war. At best, Edward will raise her. If hes murdered,
too, then she will have nobody. I wonder if giving Lilianne away was the right
thing to do. My heart yanks on me suddenly at the thought of my daughter. If
I hadnt given her to Calissa, she and Alessa would be struggling together. I
suppose it all comes down to this: giving Lilianne a new life in the East City is
kind to her, but not to Alessa. Keeping her wouldve been kind to Alessa, not
to Lilianne. But its better this way.
When I go back to Dare, I press my ring fingers to their
corresponding temples, and imagine drawing all my memories, every single
one, into a drawstring pouch. I pull it tight, and plant it into Dares mind.
She will train Alessa, if they ever find Alessa, and recruit her. Alessa will be a
Pasmi. Dare is the only other one.

Alessa! Sounds like someone is hyperventilating. I sit up,

blinking the sleep out of my eyes. I dont seem to recall having dinner last
night. Maybe I skipped it?
Alessa, do you hear me?!
Of course I do. Youre shouting all the way to East City. Yes.
OMG, OMG, ok, ok. The person breathes slowly. I suddenly realize
my eyes are closed, and flick them open and almost fall backwards. The
absence of color, and the abundance of white, are a bit much to handle. I can
see white! A lot of it! And nothing else! Luckily, my bed is a different shade
of white, and I see white sheets, a white backboard, and white rails on the
side. White wheels are attached to the legs. Uh oh. I am in- an old-school
hospital bed? Noo!
Alessa. Can you understand me? The voice is back, but less urgent
now.
Yes. Where are you? I wonder. My eyes sweep the room. Guess what
they see? White.
Im in the next room, the voice responds, and I finally know who it is.
Dare. Good. I need some answers. I swing my legs out of bed and tap the
floor with my toes. My legs zing after being still for so long, but. otherwise,
they feel fine. I hobble towards a wall, and press against it. There isnt a door
in sight, but its probably the same color as the wall, so it blends in.
Ill come to you, Dare tells me, her voice gradually growing
louder. I wait, and a patch of whiteness on the far side of the room slides
back, revealing Dare, a frown manifestly displayed on her face. It is not
completely made of concern, as I thought it would be. It includes other
36

twisted emotions. I pick out suspicion, surprise, and a slight bit of anger.
How are you doing? she inquires delicately.
Fine.
Do you feel any pain?
No.
Alright. Dare sighs. Did you see anything?
What do you mean? I ask, slitting my eyes.
When I transferred some guilt did you see anything inside
your head?
Uh yeah I reply gradually.
What did you see? Dare inquires.
Averting my gaze, I tell her Things.
Alessa. Dare stares, hard, at me. What sort of things?
Why should I tell you? I challenge. Its my memory now. And dont
you know? It came from you.
I was never able to access Helens memories, Dare informs
me haughtily. Theyre protected by a mental shield. I never was able to get
past it.
So you tried to see her memories? They were not yours, I
retort, angry now.
If someone elses experiences were planted in your head, you
would try to discover what they were, Dare points out truthfully.
But my brain has already moved on. My mother-Helen-had two
daughters? So. I was being held hostage by the Council to ensure my
mothers cooperation? And my father was too. The only close family
member my mom had with her wasMy sister
You blacked out again, Dare informs me drily.
Great. How long-
Dare interrupts, knowing my inevitable question. This brings it
to a grand total of 2 hours and 12 minutes.
I missed dinner, didnt I? I say glumly. Liesel is probably wondering
where I am.
Yes, Dare replies. You should eat something before you go home.
Home? What do you mean by home? I question Dare anxiously.
Your room, Dare tells me. Lets go to the kitchens.
We go through the door, and make our way down the hallway. The door
to the immediate left of Fare is the Dare stops at. This is a side entrance,
she says. It leads to a small eating area. Beyond that is the little kitchen.
37

Beyond that is the main kitchen. Ill fetch something from a pantry. Stay
here. And off she goes, into a place I suppose Im not authorized to enter.
When she comes back, she sups in her hand a muffin. Cinnamon
poppy seed, she notifies me swiftly. Ill escort you to your room, then leave
you until tomorrow. Well talk then.

I curl up on my bed. Oddly, it smells of lavender and pine. Are there

maids here? Goodness, this is seeming more and more like a hotel every day.
Two more days then early morning day. Evil Doings Day. Practically
Apocalyptic Day. I sigh, and pull down my hood. I dont want to capture the
Council.
I just want to go home.

I guess I fell asleep like this. My Undercover habiliments still on, no

covers doing their job. Im not the most calm, cool, and collected person, but
I dont want revenge on the Ruling Council. What they did has been done.
What theyll do is still up to them. They should be able to make their own
choices, not be influenced by a backwards organization of civilians. What
world do I live in?
For the first time since yesterday evening, I think about Lilianne. So. I
have a sister. I think shes my twin, but who knows? She lives in East City.
She is probably not as stressed out as I am right now. Calissa probably told
her all about her family. My sister is really lucky. I assume it was just by
chance that I was taken instead of her. My life-how it could have been
Im going to be a little late to breakfast. I change into a new outfit, and
fold my clothes, placing them on the edge of the bed. They will magically get
washed before I come back from dinner. Hurrying down the hall, I am
surprised to notice that many Undercover are strolling through the hallway.
Perhaps the brainwave is sent out some minutes before breakfast, to give
people time to get dressed and all.
Suddenly, a thought strikes me. I forgot to brush my hair. I pelt down
the hall near the speed of sound (I hope) and swerve into my bedroom. I
suppose I also left the door open. In the safety of my bathroom, I tug a large
black-and-white brush out of its drawer and gently run it through my almostthin hair. Most people have thick hair, but mine leans toward the thin side.
Out I go, dashing past the stragglers who sleepily clump down the
corridor. I press into the small crowd still slowly streaming into the food
room. I throw my glances all around, trying fervently to locate Liesel. She is
sliding onto a bench at the far end of the room, near Gail. I speed walk
towards her table, but it fills just as swiftly. I sigh and turn away, heading to
38

an empty table next to Liesels. Before I arrive, though, a cheerful group sits
around it. Ugh. I rush to claim a spot at the very end of the closest bench.
The eagles fly down in leisurely spirals today. Maybe they, too, have just
awoken.
Today, the breakfast is themed Simplicity. Oatmeal, cereal, fruit, and
yogurt are all that is brought down aside from plates, and the normal drinks:
tea, multiple kinds of fruit juice, coffee, and milk. I select milk, and plain
oatmeal, flavoring it with lemon juice and strawberry yogurt. It melts into my
mouth, smoothly combining the fruits with a liquid-like, mealy -in the way
that all oatmeal is- texture. When I take a sip of milk, the oatmeal cools a
little. I realize, as I am enjoying my breakfast, that the day after tomorrow is
the day I prove myself worthy of a place in an organization I dislike. My eyes
widen. I havent searched my memories at all. But the answer is apparent. I
dont favor it, but its quick, and sure to have a positive outcome.

I scan the Training Hall for Dare. Her navy suit shouldnt be too- aha!
There she is! I begin my short trek towards a small library area. Ive never
seen it before, but there Dare is, lounging on a fluffy magenta scoop couch,
a thick book open on her lap. Alessa? She glances up, closes her volume
softly, and rises. What is it that you need?
Erm, I need to search her memories I reply haltingly.
Dare shifts. They are your mothers, after all, she concedes quietly.
Alright. Where shall I go?
Right there is fine, I reply. And thank you.
What emotion shall I push to you? Dare questions, a slight tremor in
her voice. Id be anxious too, having someone basically invade my brain.
Fright would probably be best, I decide swiftly. Helen mustve been
frightened when she was attempting her escape. I need to know the location
of the tunnel-or whatever hole she used.
Dare sighs heavily. Shes young, but has been burdened with the
weight of another persons memories; therefore having a significance she
does not yet know.
Ready? I ask.
Dare doesnt answer, but shuts her eyelids, squeezes, them, relaxes
them, and breathes.

Surprisingly, the emotion begins as gently swirling clouds, drifting

through my mind. They gradually churn faster, fervently racing into all the
crevices of my brain. I start to feel unnerved. The panicky feeling escalates,
and I finally plunge into the memory.
39


I gather my most precious possessions. In the old books, there was
many a time where a character ran away. They always took only what they
needed. I shall heed their advice. I scoop up the Bjorn, an old invention that
is quite useful for transporting little ones without using your hands. I strap it
to my chest, and Lilianne into it. My largest backpack fits provisions, money,
and the most near and dear things I own. And, of course, Liliannes favorite
stuffed animal, Buboo the Bear. I hurry out of the house, wondering when Ill
come back.
My anxiety and fear drive me forward. But its not fear for me that I
feel, its fear for my daughter, who currently babbles as if all is right in the
world. Baba, I reply, and continue putting one foot in front of the other. I
must decide whether or not to leave with Lilianne. I can hardly leave Alessa
and Edward here, but he would want me to escape while I can. Either way, I
know, that even though Alessa may not cross the Wall, Lilianne will, and she
will be safe.

When I get to Eastrewn Boulevard, I halt. Straining my ears for the

slightest sound, I wait. And listen.
Seconds tick by. I hear a high, short whistle. It presses on my ears.
Good. The signal that Anyas escape party is ready to leave. I speed walk
towards the bushes beyond 20 Eastrewn Blvd. A tight group of Undercover
stands, waiting.
Madam, Anya addresses me, Will you come with us? They have
orders not to leave unless I have told them of my decision.
My mind spins, trying to deter me from saying the words I know I must.
Save yourself, a sensible voice whispers to me. Nobody will blame you.
But I cant. I will never leave my family behind. No, Anya, I respond,
I will not be coming. But Lilianne will.
Lilianne? Anya sounds surprised. I thought youd never willingly part
with any member of your family, Madam.
Im not parting willingly. I sigh. This is for Liliannes good. She must
live a happy life out of harms way. Alessa would go with her if she was not
being held.
Who will be her surrogate mother? asked Anya.
Calissa, when she comes, I reply.
Does she know this?
No, but there hasnt been any time.

40

Anya turns to the gathering. Begin to open it, she commands. The
Undercover begin to scoop out the faux stone plastered over the hole.
Lilianne shrieks joyfully.
Shh, shh, baby girl. I smile warmly at my daughter, and my heart
wrenches itself out of its place, wanting to stay with her. I grimace in pain,
and lift Lilianne out of the Bjorn. Poor little Lili.

I blink, and light rushes at my pupils. I close my eyes again. Then, I

hesitantly draw my lids apart, revealing Dare, slumped against the couch.
Hellooo? I say anxiously. What did I do to her? Dares eyelids flutter,
then come to rest, still closed. Dare? I probe, waiting for a response.
There is none. I tap her hand.
Dare sits up ramrod straight. Her eyes fly open. She stares at me.
Greetings, Alessa. Did you get what you needed?
Oh, yes, I reply hastily. Thank you. I dash away to the other side of
the room. My eyes land on the door. I push it out into the hall. Goodness. Its
such a plain place. Couldnt they spruce it up with a couple of natural
tapestries? I sigh, striding down the hallway to my room. I think Ill stay there
for now. Honestly, I need some time to gather the information I have gleaned
from my mothers memory, and put it on paper for Gail. Once I am inside, I
realize I have no writing tool, nor clean paper to put my words on. Mayhap
Gail will have some.

Chapter 9
Gail stands before me, hands placed haughtily on her hips. Yes,
Alessa? she prompts.
I was wondering if you have any pen or pencil, and perhaps some
paper, I answer calmly.
Gail snorts. Are you planning to write a novel before the overturning?
I guess we all have different names for the looming, inexorable event.
No, but I wanted to organize my thoughts on the escape, I say.
Gail tugs me into her office. What have you learned? she questions
eagerly. I notice a sort of predatory glint in her eye.
Um I think I need to write it out to make a sense of it, I tell her
warily.
No, you must know something. Where? How? Gail will not give up.

41

Please, the pencil and paper? I plead. I dont want to give her my
conclusion prematurely.
Ugh. Gail turns away. She goes to a cabinet and pulls out a thin sheaf
of white parchment. As for the writing tool, here is a slightly leaky pen, she
informs me. Gail hands me the material and slides into a seat on the
opposite side of the room. Go on, write!
May I go back to my room? I feel more comfortable there.
Why? she asks suspiciously.
I like my room, I say defensively. Its a weak reason.
Well, doesnt everybody? Gail remarks.
I feel more at ease, I justify.
Oh, well then, off you go, Gail responds dismissively.
I return to my lodgings, and at once relax my posture, which I now
realize had been tight all along. I lie on the floor, as there is not really
another hard surface suitable for writing. I record this:
In the memory, I saw that the location of the tunnel is behind 20
Eastrewn Boulevard. A group of bushes there conceals a hole in the Cirrus. It
is covered with a plaster sort of material the color of the stone surrounding
it. One must scrape it away to reveal the tunnel I suppose is there. I know
not to where, exactly, it leads. If I had I map of Cirrus Area, I could devise a
plan as to how to leave.
Then, I have an idea. Not a plan, because my brain is not magical and
splendiferous. Just an idea.

Liesel! I call into her keyhole. Are you home? Then I mind-smack
myself. Of course she would not be here, its training. Id best be going back.
Then I remember Matthew. I met him only once. How odd. Normally, I make it
a habit to contact a person nearly as often as possible. Perhaps I shall see if I
can find him.
I go to the training hall, and my eyes sweep it in all its glory. I dont see
him, but how could I expect to?
I realize that, for the past day or two, Ive had not a thought about
deserting the Undercover. Yet, just some days ago, I wanted to leave. I
wanted no part in the oncoming fight. I now have the perfect tool: the tunnel.
I can leave if I want. Start anew somewhere else. Should I? Either way, I need
a map.

I stand in front of a door that I have not approached for a few weeks.
Weeks. Ive been here for-weeks? The thought strikes me; a dart I have not
thought to prevent. My goodness. What about the comhouse floor I rent?
42

Who is paying for that? The owner will think I just disappeared. I have,
practically. But there is hardly another who would be affected. Ive no friends.
No family, except, I suppose, a sister. Well, she hasnt been an influence in
my life.
A.? A voice says. Its tinkling tone, that of a bell, streams into my ears.
What do you need? I dont suppose youll be standing outside that door all
day.
No, Madam, I reply shyly. I just wondered if you have a map.
The orange-haired lady gives a laugh I can hear as clearly as if there
were not a door and a wall between us. My great-grandmother used to tell
us stories about-she breathes deeply-the Map, with a capital M. It was
Doras map.
I frown and tilt my head, bemused. Who is Dora? I inquire.
Oh, just a kids cartoon character.
Really? I have never heard of her, I remark.
Shes from the Ancient Times, the lady informs me swiftly. But she
was quite well known back then.
I pry open the smoky grey door and step inside. It swings shut with a
gentle shish. Now, let us get you a map. But of what, child? she asks,
smiling at me as I enter.
Black City, I respond quickly.
Ah the lady murmurs. How odd. Well, then, it you must have. She
goes to a long wooden cabinet pressed against the wall behind her rocker.
Here. The lady tugs out a thin roll of ivory paper. A mold map. One of the
best.
Pardon my not understanding, but a map of mold? I wonder, very
befuddled. Is there a lot of mold in Black City?
No. Mold is a map company, combining Modern and Old.
I apologize, I tell her sheepishly. I dont go many places I dont
know, so I dont use maps.
The lady nods knowingly. But may I inquire why all of a sudden you
are using one?
I was just wondering about the space Black City encompasses and
the density of its streets.
She raises her eyebrows. Curious. Well, so you shall have your
map. The lady hands it to me, turns to go back to typing, then pauses.
Make sure you bring it back as soon as you are done. Comprende vu?
My face contorts in puzzlement. Excuse me, but I do not understand.
It is fronsay, she replies, near laughing. Do you not know the
language of France?
43

Fronsay is the language of France? It is not called what I thought it

would be.
The lady peers at me. It is spelled F-R-A-N-C with a cedilla-A-I-S.
What is a cedilla? I wonder.
It is a letter mark the French use, she answers. Did your caretaker
not teach you the basics of French? When I was younger, most children knew
at least half as many simple phrases in French as in English.
I suppose learning standards have changed, but how do you know I
had a caretaker?
She gives me a mysterious smile. It is my job. The she whisks me out
the door and shuts it.
Goodness, I mutter. I hurry to my room. The thin scroll feels fragile in
my hand, yet when I pull it taut, it refuses to yield. I stretch it out on the
floor, and stare at it. It is a very clearly marked map, streaked with black
lines that I suppose represent roads. They are labeled in blocky, neat letters.
3
I soon locate Endewyn Road and tap my finger about
of the way down.
4
My apartment. The one I have lived in for a few years. Ive never really had a
home, but that set of rooms is the closest any place has ever come.
I squeeze my eyelids shut. Big mistake. Saltwater clouds my vision
once I open them. I shake my head, and bite my tongue. I turn away from the
map and look instead toward the - wall. Shouldnt there be a window in here?
My rage simmers in my chest, ready to spout. I swallow it down and glance
back down at the map. I know Im not exactly sure where the compound is,
so Ill have to go to the roof.
The long trek to get there drains me of adrenaline. I begin to feel the
effects of a lengthy day. After this, I think Ill go to bed. But once I am
standing on the roof, the evening breeze whips my hair around my face, free
of its hood, and I position my legs shoulder width apart. Then, I stare fixedly
at the horizon. I feel like a superhero in her superhero suit, posing for the
cover picture of a comic book. The sun creeps toward the edge of my range
of view. I look down - and see a girl. Stance astride, as if she were copying
me. I stride to the edge of the roof, and look over the edge.
Strangely, the girl has my auburn hair, and wiry build. As if she can feel
my eyes on her, the girl turns slowly. She catches sight of me - and opens
her mouth to scream.

44

Chapter 10
I dash away from the edge of the roof, and drop through the trapdoor,
crumpling on the steps. I look up at the square of sky the trapdoor shows me,
and do something I have never done before, something that the Ancient
people liked to do, but we dont often nowadays - I pray.
Dear Lord, please protect the Undercover from my foolishness. I was
probably hallucinating - a sign of fatigue. Please, Lord, grant me a peaceful,
deep sleep. Amen.
My caretaker was a bit of a religious fanatic, and she taught me the
proper way to pray. Wait - I have not heard the yell that I thought was going
to come. To make sure I was just hallucinating, I clamber out onto the roof,
get on my hands and knees, and inch my way to the perimeter, and peer
over it. Instantly, I recoil, for I see the girl, her brow narrowed as she stares
at the very spot I am in. So maybe not a hallucination. Okay. I should
definitely go to bed before I give in to the temptation to take another glance.
As I turn to go back down the windy stairway, I hear a call. Hello? a
melodic voice yells out. Its her. But I cant answer, or she will be curious. I
jump down and dash down the steps, as fast as my quietness will let me. I
make it back to my room in less than 5 minutes. I hurry into the bathroom
and change out of my uniform. I put on one of the casual outfits; a black tshirt, a navy zip-front cardigan, and strangely flexible, yet firmly textured,
pants. Then I slip into bed. Tomorrow is the preparation day, I suppose. For
that night is when the Undercover will take over Black City.
A revelation comes suddenly and clearly into my mind. Perhaps Gail
doesnt want a better government. Perhaps she just wants power.
Then again, why would she go to such lengths to train and equip her
soldiers? Perhaps she is trying to subconsciously persuade them to follow
her, whatever she does. This organization is corrupt. I do want to see the
Ruling Council dismissed, but not in this way! Oh, there goes the inner
conflict again. What do I do? What should I do? What is more ethically right?
Well, if I choose not to-oh, wait. I forgot. Gail wants to escape. Will she
bring the whole city with her? I know next to nothing about Gails plans.
Sense tells me to leave. Go to the roof, and drop a rope down to the ground.
If you dont want to experience anything, leave. Okay, its not that simple. I
would need food, water, shelter, clothes, and other necessities. Maybe I
could go and warn the Ruling Council nope. I could go along with it nope.
I could leave nope. Im thinking realistically here. I could go meet that
girl nope. I could leave with my best friends nope. What do I do? I dont
have any options. I guess Ill sleep on it.

45


I awaken in my room, and I miss the many windows in my old
comhouse floor. I decide that Im not afraid of the girl being there again. Ill
go up to the roof. Again. Yes, my obsession with the roof is not normal. Many
people have probably never been on a roof, and never will be. I hurry up. I
know that I havent been training or eating, but I have a much more
important decision to make.
When I get up, she is not there. But I waste no time wondering, and get
to work. I step to the edge, crouch down, and inspect the side. The
warehouse is made of drab, pale grey cement. There are no rain carriers that
I can see, probably cause no one really cared whether the top was drenched.
No handholds or footholds. Just a tiny roughness present everywhere. I sigh
heavily.
I suddenly spot a grey metal ladder firmly adhered to the wall. It blends
in mostly, but rays of the sun occasionally shine in the right place, reflecting
of the high-quality metal (no stains or rusting). Before I think about it, I climb
over the slight overhang at the rim, and place my feet on a rung. Cautiously
descending, I begin to think about my actions. Too impulsive am I. But I feel
all wrong. I dont even know what Im doing - but then I do.
I am going to go through the tunnel and find out for myself where it
leads. Im already down on the ground. I walk with purpose toward Eastrewn
Boulevard, wanting to get there and back before anyone notices I am gone.
Surely they will be trying to round everybody up to talk to them about
tonight. I weave through the alleys, but I do not pass my old comhouse. It is
near the north part of Black City, and this warehouse is on the south end.
Eastrewn Boulevard is at the east end, but slightly south of the midpoint.
Dasom Avenue is one of three streets that intersect with my
destination. It is here that I now find myself. I suppose this is the last spot to
turn back. Who knows what Ill do? This mess Ive gotten myself into is not
going to clean itself up for a while.
I begin to stride briskly down Eastrewn, passing 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 Ive a
while to go before I reach 20. Once I figure out where the tunnel leads to, I
will decide whether I should go through or not.
19, 20. I stop. And turn towards the comhouse. All residential buildings
are comhouses, to save space. Hopefully the renter of this comhouse is out. I
creep around the edge of the building, feeling rather like a criminal. All I am
doing is investigating. No harm will be done to anyone, except the Wall, but I
do not think it will mind very much. A sharply cut lawn spreads out in front of
me, ending at a deep green hedge, dotted with lavender berries. Tessberies.

46

Edible berries. They provide a substantial amount of nutrition, if one needed

it. Not that Ive ever had them.
I tiptoe across the open ground. Beyond the primary layer of
shrubbery, there is a slight, round gap. Beyond this gap are a couple more
layers, but then a bruised shade of bluish-black becomes visible through the
leaves. It is the color of the unbreakable Cirrus Wall.
A soft crash emits from the comhouse. As delicately as possible, I slip
through the outermost layer into the tight gap. My breathing speeds up, as I
suppose the claustrophobia is coming on me again. A narrow, thorny
tunnel leads to the dark Cirrus Wall. In my mothers memory, the thicket is
not so, well, thick. Slinking past outreaching branches cluttered with
tessberies, I come to the edge. Now, I must find the plaster put over the
shaft leading out of Black City. I press my body to the stone of the Wall, and
turn my head sideways. My right cheek flattens against the frigid Cirrus Wall.
It feels quite inhospitable and foreboding. I shimmy to my left, hoping that
the plaster is somewhere close. I am in a cramped position.
A crr-r-ack! sound suddenly emanates from the Wall right in front of
me. Before I can react, stucco falls away, and a gaping hole is left behind. My
left cheek is somewhat scratched from the berry bush, so I must carefully
turn my head towards the darkness. The hole reaches from the ground to my
stomach. I crouch, wincing as the sprigs claw at my shirt. The air from the
cavity is dank and musty. Pushing my arm through the opening yields but
two pieces of information: that the Wall is hollow, and that it is also very
large. My fingers do not touch another side.
Once I am in a sitting position, I extend my legs into the gap. Curiously,
they find no ground upon which to rest on. They are simply draping over the
side. A drop? I did not expect that. As I absently swing my legs, trying to
think of a solution, my clay-black sneaker bangs against a ledge. I lean
forward and squint into the black. Perhaps the ledge isnt so far away
Snoof. Snuffle snuffle snoof. I hear rapid sniffing from outside the
shrubs. This way? A voice inquires. I believe youre right. I start when I
hear the voice. Its Gail. She has come looking for me. Of course.
Oh, no. My flinching has earned me a descent. I accidentally slide off
my teetery perch on the edge of the drop, and begin to - oof. Okay, so
maybe not that much of a plummet. I am crumpled on a very hard surface,
aching all over but not broken, that I can tell. I push myself up to a standing
position. A little ways up, the late morning sunlight filters through the breach
in the wall. Directly across from it, and down a bit, is a wooden platform.
Perhaps if I jump, and strain my arm upwards, I will be able to grasp the
platform and pull myself up. I try this.
47

It succeeds. Luck has brought me here, and so luck shall help me out.
Its a good thing I did some arm muscle workouts in Training, as otherwise
Im not sure if I would even hope to be able to pull myself skyward.
Hmm, Ondo, what have we here? She went through these bushes?
Gail asks cunningly. No no no no no! She will see the hole! I heave myself
onto the platform. It is very wide, and there is a square block of plaster
sitting a handspan away, just waiting for me to grab it. I do, and throw the
block towards the hole. It jams into place, the opening I came through being
miraculously square, also. Then, I crawl in the other direction, hoping to find
another wall with a plastered opening.
I bump into similarly textured stone to what Ive felt before. Placing my
hand on the wall, I slide it over the wall right in front of me. When this search
bears no fruit, I begin to poke. After the seventh or so poke, a tiny section of
the wall crumbles away. I make a quick decision to become a dog, like Ondo.
I plunge my hands into the hole and viciously scrape away plaster.
When the crack widens enough to fit me, I crawl through it into vivid
sunlight. It strikes the center of my eyelids, and seeps through my bones. I
swiftly roll away from the gap. But I realize it, too, needs to be filled. With
this blazing sun, I can hardly see a thing, although my eyes are adjusting. I
suppose it comes from being in that dark tunnel for so long.
Squeezing my eyes shut multiple times, I can see well enough to
discover that, like the other side, the void is hidden by a cluster of brambles.
On this side, though, the brambles are stubby auburn sticks poking out of
slightly thicker trunks. No berries, or leaves. But the ground below me is
strewn with autumn-colored ones. I glance upwards. There is the source. A
towering oak tree, deep cocoa trunk, drizzled with thin, strong branches that
poke out.
There does not seem to be a slab of plaster on this side. I am briefly
worried, but then remember the pile of faux wall I left on the platform. I
reach inside the Cirrus Wall and haul out the mortar-ish substance. It is
dusty, dry, and definitely non-adhesive. A solution develops in my mind. I
take a deep breath-and begin to cry.
Deep, heaving sobs. Arid at first, but gaining strength, as I cry for my
parents, who were murdered, and the citizens of Black City, unwilling
subjects of a Council. For the unfairness of it all. I get to be the abandoned
twin. I get to suffer through this muddle. The tears flow freely. Mustve been
pent up inside me, ever since I was kidnapped by my coworker. Its all Evans
fault, I tell myself stubbornly, trying to keep the sobs coming. Its all his fault.

48

Why was he born, of all people? No. Why was Gail born? Why am I here? Why
was I born?
At this universe-tipping question, I stop quietly wailing. I was born
because my parents loved me. Yes. They still love me. I am not alone. They
are not alone.
I gaze down at the now bumpy plaster. It is all gooey, just as I hoped. I
dig my hands into it, and attempt to mold it into a more dense blob. But this
adhesive mass does not cooperate. Another sigh. I lump the goo onto the
wall. My thoughts drift away as my focus singles on this one task.
Success. I have done it. Now, I do believe it is time for a little rest.

I open my eyes to blackness. Twinkling white stars shine overhead, and

a slice of the gibbous moon can be seen around the side of a cloud. My back
muscles are sore from being pressed to the ground for such a long time. I
rise, standing on wobbly legs, and breathe in the fresh, clean air of the night.
My next move. What will it be? I cannot decide until, at least, I know
where I am. I lean over the crest of the hedge, and peer into the inky night.
The stars shed some light on the ground, but it is still hard to see
A large, looming shape is located only about thirty half-yards away. It
has glassy windows that reflect all the starlight directed at them. The moons
light strikes the edges of the shape, splaying out leisurely across thebuilding? It seems as if I am looking at the back of a rather broad comhouse.
Or, perhaps it is not a comhouse. It is one comhouse, one grand comhouse,
all by itself. How very odd. Do they not want to save space here in East City?
That is where I must be, if there is civilization.
I inch across the grassy field towards the singular comhouse. Once my
outstretched fingers touch the building, I begin to slink along the side, my
back pressed to the wall. Sneaking around. That is what I do nowadays, isnt
it? I have turned into a sort of common lawbreaker. My parents would not
approve, I do not think. But, they were devout members of the Undercover, a
sneaky organization itself.
Suddenly, I hear a soft, graceful plop. Another plop follows suit,
landing on the tip of my nose. I press my back close to the wall, the edge just
a couple steps away. The rain is picking up, and may turn into a downpour
before long. I rub the water off my nose and peer around the corner of the
side wall. A streetlight casts its blurry glow over the slick grey asphalt of the
nearby road. I do not need confirmation that this is East City, but I feel like
heading further in, just to be sure that this isnt just a lone house, or,
perhaps, an unknown civilization.

49

So, I dash through the splattering droplets towards the half shelter of a
small grove of trees on the other side of the road. As I come up on the street,
I hesitate, but then hurry onward.

Chapter 11
The trees are normal ones. They are healthy, and the branches are
splotched with richly colored leaves, the colors of the sunset and everything
in between. Not as many have fallen from them yet as with the oak tree near
the tunnel. Just thinking about that makes my insides squirm. But I am grown
up, and I can go wherever I like, whenever I like, however I like. No one
controls me but myself. They cant force me to come back. It was a mistake.
The whole thing. I should never have stayed with the Undercover, never
worked in security
I cannot change what I have already done. I should know that.
I poke my head out of the trees and squint at the horizon. There is
another building some ways down the road. I duck my head as I sprint along
the side of the street. The building looms closer, and I see that is a food
distribution center. It is labeled East Outskirts Produce. I wonder if they
would bestow upon me free food. It is not likely, but my stomach is gurgling
ravenously. I havent eaten since I had breakfast two days ago.
I hurry up the stone step, and pass under cover of the dark green
awning covering the entrance. Two glass doors slide into the wall as I come
up on them. A second set copies the first, and I step into a long room filled
with neat rows of shelves of containers of fresh-looking fruits, vegetables,
meat, nuts, & dairy items. I cannot see anything not in its purest form. For
example, there is not a sign of any bread, but there is wheat that one could
grind.
I dont see any person, so I begin walking up and down the rows,
taking note of foods I would like to obtain, and searching for the manager.
What are you looking for? A suspicious voice demands. I whip
around. Standing before me is a slim young lady. Swishy, long, straight black
hair falls down her back, pairing cleanly with her deep blue eyes. Her
eyebrows are narrowed, and her rosy lips are pursed tightly.
Er, just some, er, carrots, I invent wildly.
I see, the lady replies, looking me up & down. Youre wet, she
observes. Youre dripping on the floor.
Sorry, I apologize, glancing at the steady drip-drop of rain from the
ends of my hair. It falls onto my sneakers, then runs onto the floor.
The lady puts long, slender fingers on her hips. Who are you?

50

Nobody, I mutter. I hadnt planned on this sort of encounter.

You dont look like a nobody, she replies, eyeing my black clothing.
Not everyone wears spy clothes all day. I certainly dont. She gestures at
her loose-knit navy sweater and tight khakis.
Really, Im nobody. Who are you, though?
Me? She snorts. Well, if youre nobody, so am I. Now. Do you want
anything? If you dont, dont drip on the floor.
Yes, actually, but I havent got anything to pay with. I respond in a
small voice.
The lady rolls her eyes. Then how do you expect to get anything?
Items dont grow on trees.
Of course not, I agree, puzzled. Where did she get that from?
Shoo. Now I have to mop the floor, she grumbles.
On a whim, I ask, Do you know a girl named Lilianne? Or her guardian,
Calissa? I cross my fingers inwardly and hold my breath.
She stares at me for a moment, frowns, then laughs. Did you think I
was fooled?
What? Now she must be going crazy.
Lilianne, you know I never fall for pranks! She pants, still chuckling.
Oh, I murmur. She thinks Im Lilianne. Perhaps if she thinks she
knows me, I can get some food and say Ill pay for it later. I hate to do that,
but its my only option. Can I grab a bit of bread and some tomatoes, and
pay for them later? I truly dont have any money on me.
Money? The lady stops laughing. You are Lilianne Docet, right?
Of course! I force a giggle through my lips.
No, no, no, she mutters to herself. Lily doesnt giggle at random
times. Who are you? she says, louder.
You fell for it, I tease. Perhaps if I pretend that I (Lilianne) was
pretending, Ill get out of this.
The lady sighs obligingly. You get better every day, but you shouldnt
give yourself away. See how far you can go before you reveal it.
Ok, I comply. But can I give you payment later?
Uh-huh. Ill put it on your tab. She strides down the aisle and turns
out of sight.
I hurry out of this row of shelves. Its the meat aisle, and I dont need
any. The next aisle is made up of shelves chock full of nuts. All sorts. I scoop
up a pack of Brazil nuts (who knows where the name came from) and turn
into the next aisle. It is stuffed with vegetables. I grab a carton of grape
tomatoes. The next aisle contains grains. I snatch a sack of rice. On I go,
picking up a box of blueberries. I stop and take stock of my current
51

provisions. These foods would last me about a day or so. How long will it take
me to find the real Lilianne? At least a few days. I am about to run back to
the vegetable aisle when the store lady turns into my aisle and raises her
eyebrows at the food I am carrying.
Are those for Calissa? she questions.
Yes, I reply matter-of-factly. Maybe Lilianne doesnt like one of these
items.
Wait here for a moment. I need to get the alarm deactivator. If I dont
deactivate the little white pad on the side, it will set off the alarm. It prevents
stealing, she explains briskly. It is only then that I notice the pads on the
containers & bags.
Ok. I watch as she goes off again. Then it hits me. How could she
have have put the cost on my tab if she didnt know what groceries I was
going to get? I glance out the window, and gasp. A sleek black car is parking
in front of East Outskirts Produce. This startles me because Ive only seen
cars in history books. A yellow word is emblazoned across the side:
Impersonators.
Impersonators? Impersona - oh no. Oh no no no. They are coming for
me. I swipe a bag from a nearby black, metallic hat stand, stuff the food into
it, and sprint to a tall, white-edged window down the aisle. Unhooking the
large glass panel, I place it gently on the floor & spring through the opening
onto the plush green grass.
Is that her? a booming voice asks as I dash towards the road, passing
under droopy trees and over equally droopy fallen leaves.
Yes! Quick! the store lady yells over the heavy rain. The sky is thick
with flat, pale grey clouds that stretch over many colbs (comhouse lot
blocks). I reach the side of the street, and keep up my already tiring run. But
behind me I see the Impersonators car, zooming up the drive, swifter than I
could ever go.
I skid to a stop. There is no point in wasting my energy. The car slows
down to a crawl. Hey! You there. Youre comin with me, the owner of the
booming voice informs me. She is stocky, with strong, yet pretty features.
Her pantsuit is made of a meadow green flannel with a starched white
blouse.
Why, madam? I wonder politely, willing my face not to give anything
away.
She scowls at me. You are an impersonator. An offense punishable by
law.
I dont understand, I say, keeping my eyes fixed on hers.

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You tried to get free food by pretendin to be someone else. The lady
puffs up her chest. I do my job well, an I get paid for it, so I get food. But
seein as you dont have anythin to pay with, you must not do your job. Its
not fair if you get free food without earnin it.
Madam, I did not pretend, I contradict softly, bowing my head. I am
not sure why the saleslady thought this was so. I can understand if you will
take her word over mine, though, because she is older. That is what I have
heard that many law enforcement people do: take a shortcut so that they
can be back home in time for dinner. It was shallow provocation, but still I
hoped it would work.The law enforcement ladys scowl is still fixed onto her
face, but it intensifies. Dont think I dont know what you are, girly, she
sneers. Actin innocent wont get you anywhere.
I paste a frown onto my countenance. You dont understand anything
about culprits if you think Im one! Do I look like an impersonator? Do you
see a patchy costume?! No! I shout, visibly fuming, while inside Im praying
for my ruse to turn out well.
The ladys expression changes from contempt to suspicion. Either
youre a stellar pretender, or that store managers a crackpot. She sticks
her face out the car window. Which one, girly?
Neither, Madam, I reply defiantly. Shes not crazy. I was playing a
joke on her. Usually she takes it in stride, but today something finally
snapped.
Then shes a crackpot, girly! Thats what I meant! She rolls her eyes
in exasperation. Dont buy anymore groceries from that one. Well have to
get her place checked out. The lady glares at me. But one more call out on
you, missy, & I wont let you go. Understood?
What if I did not do a thing? I wonder cheekily.
Adolescents, the lady mutters darkly, and zooms away.
I let out a huge sigh of relief, and crumple on the grass. Big mistake.
My clothing is now completely & utterly wet. I sigh again, get up, and begin
walking in the direction the lady zoomed off in. Ive no idea how long itll take
me to get there.

After walking for about two hours, I spot a large sign advertising
a Hotel Laritia. Just one mile away! the sign proclaims. Thank goodness. I
break into a joyous run, but soon tire out & fall into a walk again.
20 minutes later, roughly, a sidewalk breaks out of the grass, winding
alongside the pavement. Ahead, a monstrously tall, glass covered building
towers over a shorter, fancier building. Just across the street, stores begin to
pop up, all squashed together. It is as if beyond the last store, & beyond the
53

skyscraper, a line was drawn to cut off the town neatly. The road widens into
two lanes, and the cracked sidewalk smooths over. I hurry towards the short,
decorative building, and stop when I see the sign. Hotel Laritia. Ive made it.
Ive no money, so I cant stay there. I cant eat at a restaurant. But
perhaps I can visit their restroom.
Hotel Laritia is made of polished marble on the outside, and features
two pillars with veins of red on either side of the grand, dark wood doors. I
climb the short stone steps, wondering what sort of people stay here.
Probably the rich, adventurous people with enough money to do whatever it
is they want. I, certainly, am not one of them. A doorman dressed in black
pants and shoes and a white button down shirt stares at me as I approach.
He coughs lightly, his hand on the door handle.
Yes? I ask. Im probably dirty, and look like a wanderer.
He frowns. Youve made your fortune? he sniffs disbelievingly,
looking me up and down.
Well, of course, I reply haughtily, and do let me in.
The doorman gulps and pulls it open hastily.
I step into a wide, long entrance hall. Marble pillars are scattered
around, and a rich Persian rug stretches down its entire length in the center.
To the left is a grey marble fountain. Clear water cascades out of the tip of a
crack in the marble sphere at the top. It makes a small rushing sound that
helps to break the quiet that has settled over the hall like a fog. There
certainly is an abundance of marble in Hotel Laritia. At the far end is a squat
wooden desk with a lady behind it. She is dressed exactly like the doorman.
As I approach, she frowns and purses her lips. I dont think you belong
here, she notifies me.
Well, then. Youre depriving yourself of a lot of money, I retort, and
turn on my heel as if to leave.
The receptionists eyebrows skyrocket, and her jaw drops. Pardon me.
I, I - I dont think I heard you right, she stutters, eyeing me nervously.
What is wrong? I question her in a commanding way.
Well, Madam, er, we, er, dont use money here, she explains. We,
er, trade.
I know this, I inform her contemptuously. Cant I use synonyms?
Well, yes, Madam, I was just confused, the receptionist murmurs.
I raise the question: What does a room trade for?
What do you have to trade with? she asks back.
I whip around and strut swiftly back to the door. I have nothing to trade
for. Madam? the young woman calls after me, but I ignore her. Truly, I came
unprepared.
54

I exit the building and walk briskly down the street, passing a cozylooking caf. Inside, there is a large screen displaying the latest news.
Cameron Lockton donates 100 blankets, 100 snack bars, and 100 water
bottles to the Free Shops scrolls along the bottom. A blonde-haired lady with
giant black glasses and long, black eyelashes smiles widely as she
announces the headlines. I walk through the door to hear better.
Our best Black City connection, Calissa Wray, visits the nearby
metropolis in a time of turmoil, she proclaims. An undercover rebel group
has imprisoned the Ruling Council in their own houses, and demands
immediate resignation. The question remains: what will their government
become? The newswoman winks at the T.V. Stay tuned to Channel 8 to
hear an exclusive report from Ms. Wray. Well come back after a short break.
Then, the screen becomes white.

Chapter 12
I am staring at the screen, thoughts rushing through my head. Calissa.
Imprisoned. Undercover rebel group. Relief that I missed it. Suddenly, it all
clicks into place. That girl who looked just like me? Thats Lilianne. She
mustve come over with her guardian, Calissa. A humorous notion slides in.
Now weve switched. Im in East City, and Liliannes in Black City. But how did
they get over there? Is there another tunnel? They couldntve come through
mine. The East City side wasnt broken already, and neither was the Black
City side. But maybe theyre really good at sealing tunnels.
A frazzled waitress hurries over to me. I thought you were going with
Calissa, she begins. Whos looking after you now?
Hmm? I murmur absentmindedly.
I thought you were going with Calissa, Lilianne, the waitress repeats
loudly.
Um. Well. Change of plans, I respond. Can I please have a glass of
water?
So not your usual Hot Cloud? she inquires.
No, thank you, I tell her politely. She hurries away, glancing back
over her shoulder to look at me again.
The white screen fades into the news studio. The grinning newswoman
reclines on a black leather couch across from a willowy lady with swishy
caramel-colored hair pulled back into a hairtie, and chocolate skin. She wears
a silky, sleeveless, shirt the color of a mossy river and blue capris.

55

So, Ms. Wray, the newswoman begins, that endearing smile

plastered onto her face, whats up in Black City? Any more chickens getting
loose? She chuckles. I dont really get it. Oh - coup, coop, chickens. Hm.
Calissa laughs dryly. The Undercover has been very stubborn. Against
all protests from the oligarchys supporters, they continue to hold the
Council. Apparently the Undercover isnt really trying to be under cover any
more.
So the rebel group is called the Undercover? the newswoman asks,
another laugh coming on.
Yes, Calissa confirms.
Oh, my, the newswoman sighs. So much humor today that Im
bursting with it! She bursts into laughter. Calissas neutral countenance
becomes a slightly annoyed one.
Oh, oh, excuse me, the laughing lady gasps, wiping tears from her
eyes. Such a serious subject, and what do I do? She hiccups and smiles. I
do apologize, Ms. Wray. This always seems to happen at the worst times.
Now, why do you enjoy this dangerous journalism so much?
I like to have adventure, Calissa replies in a guarded way, and who
else shall do it? There is endless knowledge to find out in all locations, and I
like to be the information pioneer.
Wonderfully well said, acknowledges the news woman sweepingly.
Do you like to have company on these missions?
I rise from my slump against the wall and edge toward the door. Once I
am close enough, I flee.

I hear only my feet pounding down the street. At the first intersection, I
turn left, heading away from the caf, anywhere far from it. If she says that
she took a girl named Lilianne with her, and the waitress sees, or hears
worse, what if Lilianne actually comes on screen? Maybe impersonation is a
capital crime here. I thought East City was an utopia.
Ha. I shouldve known. Of course, no place is perfect, or even excellent.
All places have regulations and punishments and embarrassments. But
maybe I can find the studio Channel 8 is broadcasting from. Then, I can find
Calissa and explain who I am. But how will I do this? I have no idea. Honestly,
I might as well be lost. Actually, I am lost. Only a miracle could help me now.
Stopping a local and asking them my question would probably be
unwise, because a) they probably have no clue, and b) they might think Im
Lilianne, and the situation could only go down from there.

56

I myself then stop, knowing that the farther I go from the main street,
the more utterly lost I am. Instead of seeing shops around me, I see houses.
Not comhouses at all, though. These houses are not stuck together like glue,
narrow, or more than 3 stories high (to save space). These houses spread out
on large plots, and all have a decent front grass area.They have different
colors. One is a soft, sky blue, with a dark, smoky grey roof. Another is made
of faded brick, and has a brownish-grey roof.
In Black City, all the houses are squashed into one long line of houses
marching down the sidewalk. Theres barely a yard in front of each, and the
streets are so close together that the space behind each comhouse row
could only be described as an alleyway. The only place for a garden is the
roof of the comhouse, and even then, some of the roofs are not flat. The
designers of Black City did not care very much about space for plants, but
they really wanted to save space when it came to living areas. They worried
the population would grow, by a lot, so they wanted to have extra space to
house all those people. There is no way to expand the city, because of the
Cirrus Wall. Maybe there isnt any wall around East City.
Actually, I remember that when I first exited the wall, I was far outside
the city proper, but the road seemed to go on to the horizon in the other
direction. Well, then. I see why Edward and Helen wanted to come here.
Plenty of room.
Now I better keep walking, because if I do not, the residents will think I
am odd. I am just standing under a short, very leafy tree on the smooth,
white sidewalk, by a very contrasting black wood and white brick house. It is
quite geometrically unique. But I need to do something. I decide to go back
to the commercial area, because there might be a way to obtain information
about the news channel. Although I am lost, I can probably find the shops by
turning around and going back the way I (think I) came.
Oh, no. Someone is coming out the door of the unique house. They are
wearing a grey sweater and dark blue pants with lines of different hues. They
have a pointy nose, olive colored skin, and short, black hair.
Hey, the girl greets me, about my age. I havent seen you around
these parts.
Er, hello, I reply, keeping my eyes lowered.
Did you go out for a bite to eat? she wonders cheerfully.
Im not sure what to say. She talks as if she knows me. Maybe she
thinks Im Lilianne (Doesnt everybody?). Yes, I answer casually.
She laughs. Well, youve come to the wrong place, Ms. Wray. This is
the residential zone. To get to the restaurants, go straight, turn left onto
Emery Road, and turn right at the second intersection. She pauses for a
57

moment, then adds I dont blame you for wanting to get out of that studio.
Looks stuffy to me, being stuck in there with that news anchor. Shes the
craziest one of em all.
My mind whirls in puzzlement. News anchor? Then I realize that the
studio must be near, if the girl thinks that I walked from it. Right, I agree.
Could you tell me the way back to the studio? I got directions from
somebody who I dont think knew the area.
Sure, the girl consents easily. Head back the way you came.
I wasnt looking at the street signs, or the houses. Im not sure if I
remember the way, I protest, a bit panicky.
Alright, the girl acquiesces, a little less joyful. Well, turn around and
walk straight. Turn right, and follow that road until you get to Seymour
Boulevard. Turn left onto Seymour, and then turn left onto Brevity Drive.
Thank you very much, I say gratefully, and head off toward the
stores, so the girl wont suspect any more than she already does. Once Ive
turned left, I turn left again the first chance I take, hoping it will lead me to
the street I would turn right on to get to Seymour Boulevard. In Black City,
the streets are arranged in a grid form, to make navigation easier. But East
City is already so different from my home that I suspect this is not the way
East City is laid out.
The street I am on turns out to be a semicircle that leads right back to
Emery Road. I sigh, and continue down Emery, hoping the next street will
take me to Seymour. It does, and I am relieved. I turn left, and walk a little
ways before I realize that I will pass by the road the girl was on, and if she
sees me why am I worrying about her? Its not really her business what I
choose to do. I stride confidently pass the mouth of the aforementioned
street, and do not look to see if the girl is there. She was helpful, and need
not be intimidating.
I keep walking along the smooth sidewalk, looking around at the
glossy, green grass and the shining sun. The sky is a soft blue, and a few
clouds drift over it as if it is a sea.The houses I pass are all different, though
some look to be of the same layout, but different colors. The road itself is a
hard, greyish-black like a colorless night, and one clear, white line is painted
down the middle. Some of the houses have tall, twisting trees growing in
their lot. Their leaves have been cleared away, and all that is left are the
winter branches.
Then I can see Brevity Drive, coming up. I begin to walk a little faster,
and swoop around the corner.
I stop short, staring.

58

Ahead I see a tightly spiraled building, tall as four houses stacked one
atop the other, made of shining black glass that both reflects and absorbs
the sunlight. My jaw hangs down, and I close my mouth slowly. This is the
news station? Nothing so expensive, or beautiful, would be built in Black City.
I walk toward it slowly, tentatively, realizing for the first time what I am about
to do. I am about to attempt to get in, find Lilianne and Calissa, and convince
them that I am who I am. Then what? Do I want to go back?
First things first, Alessa. Calm down, and enter. I am coming upon the
door to the strange building. It is made of glossy white wood that makes the
blackness around it seem even more black, if that is possible. I pull open the
door and step inside. It is quiet. The floor is an amber-veined white marble,
and the walls are a shimmery turquoise.
Like Gails skirt.
There is a curvy black desk made also of marble that faces me, a few
yards away. Two men and a woman sit behind it. They are wearing white
polos made of a soft-looking material, their hair is very neat, and the lady
has cut it to her chin. All three look up from the desk when I enter.
Hello, one of the men nods. He seems a bit surprised to see me, but
hides most of it. Would you like me to lead you to Calissa?
No, thank you, I answer. Just tell me where she is, and Ill go there.
I know hell expect me to have knowledge of the insides of this building, so
she may be a little hard to find.
Calissas in her apartment on the 7th floor, you know, where all the
journalists stay, he informs me. I nod, and stride toward the gleaming
elevator doors to my left, made of the same material the door is. There is
one red button on a white panel beside the cavity in the wall. I press it and
stand there demurely, and nervously.
The doors slide open, and the inside of the elevator looks exactly like
the lobby. Same walls. Same floor. A belt of buttons loops around the
elevator equidistance from the ceiling and the ground. A small black number
is carved in above each one. I press the button under the number 17, and
the elevator begins to rise. It is not like the elevator in security; I feel as if
the floor is moving up towards my face, and I am not moving with it. Like the
elevator is tugging me upwards with a speed I did not expect, and I am going
down.
But it is when the elevator begins to move sideways that my stomach
really begins to feel the pull. I do believe this is the most odd ride I have
ever been on.
It stops so smoothly I do not realize I am not moving anymore. The
doors slide open, revealing a curving, white hallway lined with doors that can
59

hardly be seen, so camouflaged are they. Black letters are carved into the
wall next to each door. Thank goodness. I will be able to find the journalist
apartments. But it may take a while. Im not sure how long this hallway
extends. As I pass each door, I read the fancy script. Amanda Schaffe reads
one inscription. There are others that I pass, and Ive must around seven on
each side when I get to the one that reads Calissa Wray. I knock on the door
softly.
Yes?

Chapter 13

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