Vision is power, but eyes are a rare commodity.
Sirens blare. Red light floods the room from the twin lamps dangling from the ceiling. My friends slowly gain consciousness around me. I feel them shuffling, struggling, climbing over one another, to be the first standing. The caretakers like it when we are standing.
As the pile disperses, I remember how cold the room really is. When I stand, the ache of the floor suddenly strikes. It hurts badly, but we mustn’t complain. Ungrateful children are punished.
Everyone is standing now; every eye is open. Tap tap tap. We can hear one of the caretakers coming. Its hands drum against the metal walls as it approaches. We quietly bid each other a good day with nods of our heads. Heavy metal flicks signify the caretaker unlocking the door. As the giant slab creeks open, the caretaker’s long arms slither through the crack.
It feels each one of us to make sure we are awake, gently patting the tops of our heads with its delicate fingers. “Everyone is awake…very good.” It whispers. “It is time for breakfast.” She wedges the door open just enough for us to squeeze through. The scraping rust makes a horrible noise causing the caretaker to clutch its ears.
As it leaves, it wags one of its long fingers, beckoning us to follow. We spill out into the hallway, remaining in a neat line. The hallway has the same dusty stone floor as the room. Its tall, dirty walls are lined with pipes that the caretaker uses to find its way to the nursery.
All the lamps are already active in here. My eye takes a minute to adjust to the yellow, flickering light. As the first in the line, I am first in the chair. Two caretakers approach me, clacking their dark shoes on the white tile. Their hands quickly examine me for damage. “How are you feeling child?” one asks.
“I am well,” I respond calmly. With their hands on my neck and arms, they can tell I do not lie.
“Very good.” She grasps the bandage from yesterday’s breakfast and removes it tenderly. A tube with a needle descends from the ceiling to the caretakers. The larger of the two holds my hand while the other sticks the needle through the skin of my face right next to where they did yesterday. The caretakers’ mouths aren’t covered so it must be easier for them.
Today’s juice tastes like nothing. There are many different flavors, but today, it tastes like nothing. This liquid must be new.
Once they are sure I have had enough, they patch up my face and send me to the next room where another group is. This room is made from colorful tiles with the same flickering lamps as the one before it. A rug in the center of the room makes the floor comfortable to sit on, but I pass it to sit in the corner with my best friend who is drawing on the hard floor.
His eye is dark brown. I think he is the only one to bear that color. I don’t know what color my eye is for certain, but I am told that it is blue. He raises his cap to me as he does most days. We are free to speak in this room, but he seldom does after the caretakers punished him for calling another friend a bad name. I often forget the sound of his voice.
He just slides me a piece of paper covered with pretty, bright colors. I have seen many different colors, but these are the kind I’ve only ever seen in drawings, the kind that don’t really exist. It’s Bright blue with a big yellow circle and bright green on the bottom.
“The next place again?”
“I have found a way.” Impossible. “There is a spot in the upper levels where we can peak through. You must see it for yourself. All the rumors are true.”
“What if we are caught? We will be punished.” I am extra quiet.
“They will never know. We can slip away during rest time; I know the way.” He looks over to the caretaker, but it cannot hear us over the other conversations. My friend puts the paper back in his pocket and begins scribbling on a new page. He can no longer hold the crayons properly after the caretakers took his littlest finger.
The cycle continues on as it does every day, but as we transition from wash time, I fall behind the line. No no I mustn’t fall behind. It is too late—I am alone.
I have never been alone before. There are no friends with me, no caretakers. It is just me, the cold floor, and my clothes sticking to my wet skin. It hardly takes a minute for the sound of dripping water to leave me as well.
What do I do? What do I do? It’s probably not too late to get back to my group. I could try to pretend I got lost and go to sleep like nothing happened, but I want to see the next place. I must see the colors. I have to know if they actually do exist. It’s the only thing any of us really want here. To turn down this opportunity would be unfair to all my friends who will never get the chance.
I must go.
There are no lamps in the hallway, but I can follow the pipes. The rust flakes of the damp metal when run my fingers along it. My skin quivers, but I am not cold. It must be my fear. My best friend has done this many times; he is much braver than I.
I cannot tell how long I shuffle along, hearing the caretakers tap their ways past me. I try not to breathe; I try to slow my heart down. Neither of these are possible.
A light sneaks through the hallway dim and silent. Every damp brick and dangling cable emerges from the dark like my eye was suddenly opened into a lit room. I stand still, curiously awaiting its approach. Lamps do not move. What can this be?
My best friend stands at the center of the light.
A tiny orange…thing dances in his hand. I have no way of describing it or naming it. The calm light stops the shivering. I want to touch it, but he pulls it away from me.
I recognize the object now; the caretakers use it on the little sticks they put in their mouths. I wonder if they would share them with us, were we able to open our mouths like them. The light leads us through the hallways, swiftly and quietly.
The pitter-patter of our feet on the stone is exchanged for the low ringing of us running up the metal stairs. Distant clacking steadily increases. “Over here.” my friend says, forgetting to whisper. The light of the little object engulfs the area, revealing smooth, dry walls with no pipes. A small cage appears in front of us at the end of the hall. The clacking and tapping grow closer.
A bell chimes as the cage slowly crawls shut. My best friend presses little circles on the wall beside us. What is he doing? I don’t have the wit about me to ask. The entire room shakes before the box we stand in climbs upward.
“They will surely have us when we return,” I say with my head hanging low. I am no longer certain seeing the colors is worth losing a finger or two—if I ever really was certain in the first place.
“We need not return. The next place will have everything we need.”
“And our friends?”
“They will find their own way.” He is interrupted by the second chime of the bell, at which time the cage halts and opens again. I step onto something new. This floor is not made of stone here; it is soft and warm. It creaks as we walk on it. “The opening is close.” He says with hope in his voice.
Light drifts into this room though I know not where it comes from. The joy returns. I can feel it in my chest, a great release.
“Where are you going?” a voice sneaks out from one of the neighboring rooms. Oh no. The joy sinks away just as fast as it came.
A caretaker slinks into the light. I would fret about the punishment to come, but there is something peculiar about this one—she has eyes. Blue, green, and yellow eyes surround her head, some fastened on by bandages. She must be like us.
“We are very sorry mistress.” I begin. I know she must be cross with us.
“Shh.” She places a hand on the side of my head. “Worry not.”
“Before we are punished, may we see the next place if only for a moment.” My friend chimes in from the far corner. I would not have the courage to say it, but I must get a glimpse.
“Why of course. Come right this way.” She takes our hands gingerly. “How wonderful it is to finally get a look at you. I’ve only been able to hear and feel you all this time, but now I can see you clear as ever. Maybe soon, all of us will have that chance.”
Her new eyes must not be working quite right; we are walking away from the light.
