A warm white light hit her face making it possible to see her without opening her eyes. Part of the body was struck by that light source, she felt a slight tingling similar to the warm spring sun.
He decided to open his dark eyes. He blinked several times trying to focus on the image in front of him.
He smelled a strong and bitter smell similar to when a room is not aired for too long. Everything seemed to move suddenly, she felt it from the air hitting her bare arms and from what she saw; her eyesight was beginning to return to normal.
He tried to move his arms, he wanted to rub his eyes but his wrists were immobilized and, despite his efforts, he could not move as much as he wanted. Her muscles shook from the effort and caused her a thick pain with every movement.
Dark lines of varying thickness ran through the clear ceiling which, slowly, was appearing sharper before Maeve's eyes.
He only had time to realize that the long lines were actually old iron pipes before hearing a deaf noise; he could see a clear door opening behind her as she moved, carried, through that.
He could feel under his hands a kind of plastic mattress: most likely he was on a stretcher. He ignored the pains in his chest and tried to raise his face to look towards the back of the stretcher.
He recognized a young man with light brown hair, tall, wearing dark clothes. He pushed the stretcher but didn't look at Maeve, his eyes were on her. The girl tried to turn her eyes but heard her ears ringing and her head rumbling, so she put her head back on the mattress.
The ceiling had definitely changed once the door was passed: silver and shiny hexagonal panels made the room extremely bright, sometimes it seemed that these reproduced directly the sunlight.
An index finger passed by her face several times before she could concentrate and follow him with her eyes.
"No head trauma," said a half-skinned woman, releasing the straps that held Maeve's wrists to the stretcher. The boy immediately freed her ankles.
The woman put her hand to the girl who with many difficulties was able to sit down.
He snapped his fingers at the sides of Maeve's face and checked her reflexes again.
"What's your name?" he asked, picking up a folder and starting to browse through several files.
"Maeve, Maeve Geller" her voice barely came out of her throat, like she was stuck.
The woman was wearing a long light shirts without a tag. Maeve looked behind her. Those who looked like doctors looked after people with torn clothes, some of them seemed injured. Other guys dressed in dark tried to help and carried stretchers continuously in and out of the room through the same door from which she had just entered.
The room was huge: the concrete floor seemed to have just been polished if it had not been for some dark bloodstains that were drying out.
Columns of the same material as the pavement were found almost everywhere but green ivy plants grew around them. It was at that moment that Maeve noticed the plants coming down from the ceiling: some reached the ground and were covered with very clear flowers.
At other points in the ceiling of the panels were curved as in domes and from these came out a light equal to the sunlight that hit the beach in summer. Just below this were placed trees with greener leaves that Maeve had ever seen; an expanse of grass of a few meters extended to the bases of the trunks.
The girl for a moment was convinced that she had seen white butterflies flying in these places.
Hallucinations, he felt his head burst.
The guy handed her a wet handkerchief with a mechanical gesture. It took her a few seconds before taking it and passing it on her face.
He looked at it again, now the handkerchief was grey, covered with dust and soot, no longer white.
The woman looked up with a smile.
"It is not easy to ignore the effect that this place gives the first time, I am exquisitely aware, even after years does not fade the wonder." Maeve opened her mouth not knowing what to say.
The woman continued to speak by turning to the boy and closing the folder that she held in her hands. Maeve only got a peek at a few names of everyone in the files, that's all.
"Liam, your shift is over."
The boy began to protest; brown eyes focused on the woman, the tone of dissent.
"Afya needs more help now than ever before, not to say forever! I can't just take a shift off, you know I can help."
Afya shook his head, the long, dark hair had accompanied the movement of his face.
"This was one of the last, if you really want to do something help her walk a bit. She needs to breathe and recover, give her a ride."
Later, she was called back by a man in her gown and walked away; Maeve looked after her until she was lost in the confusion.
Liam leaned on the stretcher looking at the people inside the room, looking for a point where his help would be more helpful. Unable to find him, he snorted and laid his hands on the sides of the girl's torso, helping her to get off the stretcher without her requiring it.
Maeve couldn't feel her legs as usual: it was like she hadn't moved them in years. He took the first step without feeling the support to the floor, the boy did it next to her without touching her.
Liam pulled over his elbow the sleeves of the monochrome sweatshirt he wore and watched the girl take a few steps alone with the same attention as when teaching a child to ride a bike.
Tattoos were all over his right arm. These were all dark except for a cross of greenish tones made just above the elbow. Maeve noticed that she was staring at the tattoo and looked away and instead focused on walking.
Each step seemed easier to her than the previous one but doubly more tiring.
"What kind of hospital is it?" he asked, leaning his hand against a concrete column to support himself.
Liam gave her a bad look before he answered.
"This isn't a hospital, probie."
Maeve blinked several times before sticking her back to the cold concrete of the column. Was she dreaming?
Impossible: she felt her muscles more sore than she could ever imagine. Had they kidnapped her? She looked around.
Some people were in his situation, others had already recovered. If they wanted to rebel and escape they would have succeeded without problems: they were in clear majority.
He saw a woman screaming in pain and falling to her knees.
Some reached it, many just stood by and watched.
The white metal door opened quickly, several people entered. In front some men in white coats ran towards the woman carrying a trolley with syringes and scalpels on top.
In a few seconds the confusion increased extremely, the voice of the woman fell to the ground was heard distinctly from the others: his were screams.
She screamed in a panic, screamed in pain.
Maeve just wanted to go home, run away, but she couldn't. Her legs wouldn't hold. He needed to come home as much as he needed air at the time.
She gasped for oxygen, couldn't breathe. Liam approached her with a note of confusion on her face. The girl's breath greatly accelerated. The boy tried to figure out where the problem was by looking for wounds on his body and trying to get the girl to talk.
She didn't hear anything, she wanted to run, go home.
He wanted to go home.
He quickly reached out and pushed the boy as hard as he could. Liam, who had meanwhile focused on mentally cataloging the girl's symptoms, fell on the floor.
Within seconds, Maeve found her cheek and chest pressed against the column, her wrists blocked and pressure between her shoulder blades. Around the wrists he felt cold, metal, did not understand immediately.
"The woman is fine, try to resume the panic and throw it somewhere else. I don't want any in here."
The metallic voice behind her made her realize who had just stuck her against the column.
Metamer was standing behind her: with one hand he held her wrists together, with the other he applied a moderate pressure on her back that prevented her from moving, hurting others and herself.
The figure chuckled and turned his face to the boy still on the ground. The latter's hair had fallen back on his forehead and blew them away as soon as he heard the laughter of the shadow.
"You're letting her lie you down? Really, Liam?"
Liam stood up muttering ironic excuses and putting the sleeves back on. He arched his back like a cat and Maeve thought she heard bones popping into him.
"I wasn't ready." said the boy as he moved his shoulders, trying to get the muscles that were strained on impact.
Maeve meanwhile managed to get back focused. Where just before people were aggregated now there was no one: everyone had returned to their tasks or to think about how to get back on track. The woman was gone, as were the doctors who entered to join her.
Metamer gave her a few seconds to catch her breath. Maeve felt the look on him, but could not tell if he was angry or curious.
"I want to go home." he said looking at Liam.
The latter had shaken his head looking at her. It seemed to her as if the boy had gone into 'automatic mode'. Like he was doing the same scene for the millionth time.
"It's impossible. - Liam said, the tone of voice was empty - If you're here now I'm pretty sure you're not going back to your house soon."
Maeve gasped for several seconds trying to find the right words to say.
"No! I want to go. - said the girl raising the tone of her voice as she looked over the figure of Metamer - I want to see my aunt, my sister, my friends! You're crazy, you're crazy."
Metamer tilted his head. The two dark plates that overhung his eyes seemed to her bottomless. Maeve felt shivering, at which moment she realized she was like a mouse in a trap.
"He doesn't remember anything. - said Metamer straightening his head - Liam is his tutor for the next few days." He stepped back and kept his dark eyes on the girl.
"What next days? - looked at them amazed the girl as if the words of the figure had just awakened her - I'm leaving now."
He took steps towards the masked boy.
For every forward movement he made a backward movement, an ironic smirk appeared on Metamer's face as soon as he saw her hesitate. At each step he had spent more time than he had to calibrate the weight on the foot just leaning.
Despite this, the girl tried to run after him to stop him, to ask him to let her go home.
Liam stopped her by grabbing her arm and looked at her sympathetically. For the first time since he had opened his eyes he felt understood.
"You'll understand this is for the best." the boy gently pulled her back.
He didn't want to believe it. What the world wanted most in that moment was to get out of there.
Metamer spoke one last time before turning around and walking away. His words had been imprinted on the girl's blood, veins and skin.
Maeve collapsed on her knees on the concrete floor, putting her hands on her tearful face and shaking her head.
Indistinct flashbacks appeared in front of her: she was able to distinguish screams, blows, she was able to remember the goose skin, the nerves pulled and the pain she had felt.
The emptiness she felt from those memories remained attached to her chest for several minutes. Laying his hands on the ground belbettò in a whisper the words of the masked figure:
"Welcome to the Beginning."