SENTINEL 555: WAR ✔

29 NOISE

Dev walked on down the hall. Her silence made Oni curious.

He came to a stop and said to Dev, "Can I stay in your room for a bit? I know it's taboo to sleep there but I'm tired of sleeping with my back against a wall."

Dev's disappointment turned to concern. "It's cruel of him to make you do that, I know, but he must have a reason for it."

Oni wasn't convinced. Perhaps Dev wasn't either because she gave in. "I guess one night won't hurt."

The time with her after that was nice. Wussing out for fear of rejection felt more tolerable with the prospect of an actual bed—something he hadn't experienced much in life.

When her room door opened, the thought finally occurred. "You so quiet because I shouldn't be in here?"

The question dispelled the trance. "What? Oh. No. I do not care about that at all. Just thinking about something I heard all day today."

"What? That awful singing?"

Once they entered the room, she deposited her matrix on the panel extending from the wall and sat at the chair there.

Oni was far from finished with his complaints. "Till my dying day, I'll never enjoy that song the same. It was a crime—"

"What does EDA mean?" she asked robbing the very breath from Oni's body.

He couldn't answer. That had been the phrase she'd heard. It was going around a lot lately with the cull closing in. Even when Oni'd gotten down from the wall days ago, several enthusiastic cadets from other crews greeted him with the phrase along with a cheer. It was a morbid way to respond. What was even more morbid was the fact that he'd accepted their words with some satisfaction.

Dev asked about it now but there'd be no sense in explaining it to her.

It had been weeks since Oni'd been here last, but he took in the changes—it looked bare. Much more than usual.

Oni flopped down on the bottom bunk—the one he was sure to be using.

"You looking to EDA yourself or something?"

The joking way he said it didn't come off as casual sounding as he'd liked.

"EDA?" Dev swiveled her chair around to face him.

"Everybody Dies Alone," Oni explained. A confused grimace and a blink was her own response but he waited. It wasn't something he took pleasure in elaborating.

The silence ended with a soft gasp. "What?" She scanned the room. "Me downsizing means I'm looking to put my own lights out?"

Never had he heard it put like that. Even the peculiar way she phrased things was kind of sweet. But simpering at someone talking about suicide was unacceptable so he forced himself to straighten up. Somehow, he'd have to explain himself but words failed him.

She came to his rescue by asking, "Is that a common thing in the Outerlimits?"

What a question.

"Not common," he admitted, "just common enough."

Her big brown eyes took interest in the floor. He regretted being the cause.

"It's common in the Inner City—common enough, too, I suppose." There it was again, that distant look as she found interest in the ground. "It was the last thing my father said before he got sick—sick enough that he couldn't leave his bed."

Oni's brain shut off.

In the silence to follow, he tried to turn it back on and search for something useful to convey.