Myka always enjoyed the twists and turns of The Structure, she'd often time herself to see how quickly she could get from the North end to the South. From her bunk to the training facility, not that she ever did much training. Her parents were among the ungifted. Tasked with cleaning all the bunks in the Northern corridor each week. These days she often found herself daydreaming, for tomorrow she'd receive her brilliance. Though it was more than likely she would join the ranks of her parents and her grandparents. A generation of Duuds handing down little tips and tricks that would ease the monotonous day-to-day. All they did was make beds for goodness sake, yet there was still much to learn. Like whose bunks to make sure were absolutely spotless or they'd complain to the Sovereign. Which bunks could be messier, who liked their clothes folded, who didn't care. As she entered the dining hall everyone was almost done eating. She was never on time, and no one really cared. One more week of immaturity and a responsibility-free living. They were serving kanesh. An awful-looking greenish stew with a few orange and red bits floating in it. The dining hall thrummed. It was time to get back to work.
"You joining us honey?" Myka's mom asked. Tapping her foot with her gaze fixated on the food Myka hadn't touched.
"Just a sec," she said, but her mother didn't budge.
"You said that yesterday and didn't show up until it was curfew, and the day before that you didn't show up at all. There are things you need to learn. I know you can't see it now. Or maybe you just don't want to. But everything I'm teaching you is going to make your life much easier here."
"Kaia forbid I fold the towels wrong," Myka's voice was quiet, not far beyond a whisper.
"What was that Myka? Hm?" her mother responded. Instead of a clever retort Myka shoved a spoon full of kanesh into her mouth and shrugged.
"I'm eating," she said through a mouthful of food.
"Be up in twenty minutes. And I mean it this time, or else," her mother stormed off without another word. She wasn't wrong for wanting to teach her. The ungifted did everything around here. All labor was considered a gift. How lucky they were that all they had to do was fold towels. Because once upon a time they all had to fight for their lives, blah, blah blah. So be grateful for blah blah blah. Since Myka was born. None of the Kreitzers had even come back with a scratch. Five years watching the sand blow, watching the sun rise and set. No danger, no nothing. This, perhaps is what scared her the most. Is this all there is? Mindless chores, or five years of staring into the horizon? Before Myka could take her second bite, the dining hall was completely empty. The efficiency of it all gave her the creeps. She often crossed her hands and prayed before eating. This week she prayed that she would be given a Brilliance. Then she could leave this place for good. This was the only way anyone was allowed to leave The Structure. Desertion was the highest form of treason, a sin that no one had committed in the history of their origin. In the not-so-low chance that she didn't receive a gift. She wouldn't be asking permission. One way or another. She was leaving. She'd be missed, used as a cautionary tale. Then everyone would go back to their incessantly boring and mundane lives.
Myka stood by the blast doors along the Northern corridor, her fingers touching the small keypad. What awaits me? She thought, imagining the cold steel, beckoning her outside. Pleading with her to live a life of discovery, of adventure.
"Careful m-lady, you wouldn't want to venture into such dangerous lands without your dashing knight by your side," Dorian teased. His eyes lit up every time he looked at her, it was both flattering and unnerving. He looked at her like she was the only person in the world.
"Gross. That's your worst line—" Myka coughed. Her vocal cords gave out. literally. From something called spasmodic dysphonia. She'd been born with the condition, and even with their advanced medical staff, there was no treatment.
"Speechless as always I see. I have that effect on people you know," Dorian smiled and came closer. She smirked, then gave him the finger. They both laughed. "Truth talk?" Dorian asked as he slid his back against the wall.
"Truth be spoken," Myka spoke softly and sat next to him.
"There's an unease among the new recruits."
"I've noticed."
"Nobody seems to be taking our jobs seriously anymore. Centuries of hardened warriors spent their lives preparing to defend The Structure. But now... It seems like."
"Nobody cares."
"Exactly! I heard rumors that we may be the last group of recruits. Ever. Maybe there's nothing out there anymore?" Dorian said. Myka couldn't help but smile. If there wasn't any danger out there, maybe her dreams would come true. She and Dorian could explore until their heart's content.
"That's. Great." Myka said.
"Great? How?"
"On to a better life," Myka said softly, resting her head on his shoulder, but Dorian was still caught up. He trained his entire life to be a warrior. The moment of truth right around the corner and yet, walking through that door may yield nothing, his years of hard work, completely wasted.
"This used to be a place of honor. Protecting the last of our people. A warriors commune. Now they laugh and drink, retirees fucking each other practically every night. Like it's one big party. Is this the life they strive for Senseless debauchery, pointless pleasure," Dorian continued.
"Doesn't sound all bad," Myka laughed, slowly running her hand down the base of his neck. Then she gently flicked his ear, this broke him out of his spell. "The ceremony's tomorrow, we'll find out soon," she said.
"Yeah..." he paused for a while. Myka didn't mind, she always felt comfortable in silence. "Have you had any dreams?"
"Dreams?"
"Recurring ones. Or ones that really stand out? That you remember? We're all getting inklings about what we will be given. Except for Skye. I think he's going to be a duud—. I mean ungifted. Don't tell anyone I said anything. But normally he's so."
"Brash? Cocky? A know it all?
"Ha. Yeah. But he's quiet. Really quiet. He says he's just focused on training. But it's more than that. I think he's dreamless." Dorian smiled with his mouth, but his eyes betrayed a deep sadness. He was concerned. Skye would do anything to protect that which he cares about. They were all, for better or worse, in this together.
"Dinner," Myka said as she rested her head on his shoulder.
"Hm?"
"We're all at dinner."
"Huh." Dorian paused. Fumbling with what or how to say his next words. "I hope you know that regardless of what happens next week. Look after the ceremony if we're different or. Something doesn't go right—" Myka cut him off by placing her hand over his mouth.
"Sh. Big day tomorr—" Myka coughed once again, but Dorian understood what she was trying to say. He closed his eyes and rested his head on her shoulder this time. Myka decided regardless of what happened tomorrow. She wanted Dorian by her side. Myka closed her eyes, with him. It felt like her life was finally beginning.
Dreams Across The Structure
Skye was convinced he would be the one to lead them. The lucky ones would be given a Brilliance today. Their selected gifts would be bestowed upon them and yet he hadn't slept in three days. He couldn't get Dorian's words out of his head. Why haven't I dreamt? Not a wink, a moment, nothing. Insomnia brewed each night from the fear of becoming ungifted, a self-perpetuating cycle of dreamless nights. Skye lay there until a strip of blue algae lining the baseboards illuminated the room, this signaled morning for The Structure — and for the first time in years, instead of snapping to attention and rushing to be the first one at training. He just lay there. Contemplating. Why haven't I dreamt?
Dorian was already doing chin-ups by the time the algae glowed. He enjoyed watching it bloom, as a new day was upon them. His dreams had become more intense, more vivid. As Dorian rested in between sets the same scene played over and over in his head. The same dream he'd had for the past week.
He stood atop a mountain surrounded by a thick fog and cloud line. The wind whipped violently at the peak. How he managed to stay grounded was beyond him. He couldn't see five feet in front of him, nothing in sight, no path to safety, nowhere to go. Someone was calling out to him, begging for his help, but he couldn't locate the sound, where it was coming from? The voice was somehow coming from everywhere. Why couldn't he help them? Dorian grew more and more frustrated and the wind grew in frustration with him. There was no separation between the gusts and screams. The voice cried for help over and over again. With each step he was blown backward, the harder he fought the harder the wind fought back. It was impossible. Until he saw her. A gentle face, Myka. Dangling from the edge of the mountain, moments from her death. Fingertips desperately clung to the rock ledge. She begged for his help once more until the thick fog enveloped her completely. It wasn't until her screams went silent did Dorian finally awake.
There wasn't much to think about, Byrn would soon lead her team in the fight for their survival, everything and everyone in The Structure. Then once she had earned their respect she would lead them to a new promised land. While she prepared for the worst, she couldn't help but believe that there was nothing out there, except boredom. What once was a feral desolate landscape of death and carnage was now an empty void. The gifted would be on assignment for five years. No access or contact with anyone inside the Structure was allowed. This rule was implemented based on an old legend. More than two hundred years ago there were sorcerers who could mimic the voices of loved ones. This trick allowed the enemy to gain access behind the walls. Resulting in one of the biggest breaches and massacres in The Structure's history. Bryn could already feel her strength brewing. She would protect her people no matter what. When the algae first glowed she was already awake. She'd been having a hard time shaking off her dreams as of late.
Bryn wandered the desert. Somehow, she knew exactly which direction to go. The dunes of the sand rose and fell at least fifty feet. Her view was often obscured. Her movements were labored, sinking deep into the sand with each step. The heat was obnoxious, and the air was dry, it was difficult to take a full breath. Each time she opened her mouth the moisture was immediately sucked out. There, a cloaked man stood atop the Dune. He'd been following her for miles. Envious of his movements, he seemed to traverse this landscape with ease. Floating among the surface like magic. Every time she peaked over her shoulder, he was far enough away she couldn't make out any identifying features, but always in sight. They'd continue like this for days. At night a small fire could be seen. Bryn wondered where he'd gotten the materials to make a fire. How could one carry such equipment this far? Replenishing it each and every night. She shivered; the nights were almost more unbearable than the days. The heat exhausted her and tested her patience and demeanor, but the cold caused her to go numb. Lethargic and sloppy. Her keen sense of focus and attention drifted and became myopic on staying warm, lasting until the morning. She couldn't strategize under these conditions. The only focus was on survival. One night, the man appeared from nowhere. Placing a gun to her head. Each this happened before he could pull the trigger. She awoke.
Myka watched as her parents folded laundry for practically the entire north wing. They seemed. Content. Something she had thought about often. The lack of ambition, the simplicity of their routine and scheduled lives. Life inside the Structure was safe, constant, and boring. She understood why many would take comfort in this. As she helped her mother fold the laundry she thought about the same dream she'd had every night for the past three days.
The light was blinding at first. An all-white room. Myka sat at the head of a large crystal dining table. Silver plates, cutlery, silver flowers, and decorative fruits. The entire table was void of real food. A well-dressed man in an all-Grey suit came to serve her, he placed the plate in front of her, and removed the cover, on the plate sat one inedible silver spider. Hard and as solid as steel. No matter how hard she tried, Myka couldn't move from her seat. Everything began to decay, cobwebs appeared on the plates, and the silver rusted. Like she was speeding through time and everything around her was wearing down. Then, out of nowhere Dorian, Bryn, and Skye were sitting with her. Before she could say anything. Warn them, they themselves started to decay, their skin withered away, and in seconds they turned to bone. Seconds later, nothing but dust. She never had any time to react. It felt like an eternity as she sat there and stared at the seat Dorian once occupied. She'd fight harder and harder to free herself from the chair, and only until she'd completely given up would the waiter return.
"Are you ready for the next course darling?" The waiter asked. And then, she woke up.