Seventh 2 Survive (WAYHAUGHT)

5-41821719

Haught's eyes were wide. "It's so green," she remarked, as fields and woods and open spaces whizzed by.

"What's it like in space? Don't say different, that doesn't help."

Haught continued to stare out the window. "It's hard to explain. It's like here."

"It can't be, you're floating above the planet."

"It's home. It's similar to here because I live there."

"Bet you don't have lakes and mountains."

"We do. There are zones. We get merits to visit."

"Like a theme park." Haught glanced over, returning her gaze to outside. "So Haught, you have a first name?"

Haught continued to stare into the distance. "A first name?"

"Yep. I'm Waverly. You are?"

"I have a number."

"That's so impersonal. Surely your parents must have called you by a name."

"Why would they?"

"Because...I don't know. Feels wrong having a number that's all."

Haught moved her gaze to Waverly's face. "We are assigned a number from birth. It stays with us. I don't have to change it, or like it, or do anything with it. It's just there."

"But, your parents aren't going to call you in the park by your number. That's like...what if they called over the wrong kid? Come here, 12345678."

Haught tilted her head. "Ah, I understand. No, I don't have parents. I have a hive I was assigned to at birth and stayed until I was fifteen cycles."

Waverly's jaw momentarily hung open. "You...you told me your great grandparents, or great, great whatever lived on the planet."

"Oh that. No, I don't know who they were."

"You lied!"

"Does it matter?"

"Yes!" Waverly leaned forward in her seat. "I'm on a train...I'm travelling with you because you told me I'm responsible for the future of Earth. Is that a lie too?"

"That is not a lie."

"Why would you say that?"

"I apologise for giving you a false belief. I don't know what it's like to have ancestors."

The casualness with which Haught dismissed a blatant lie troubled her. That's strike one for you girl. A guard approached. "Tickets please. Have your tickets ready."

Waverly held out hers, the guard punching it, doing the same to Haught's. She watched Haught study the small hole left on the returned ticket, a look of sadness in those eyes. Those eyes, something about them, as though she'd seen that look before. Deja vu. And then, it was gone. "Why was it you who came to rescue me?"

Haught returned her gaze to the passing scenery. "I wanted to meet you."

"Who were the others?"

"Others?"

"Your threads. You said I'm your seventh."

"Oh, threads. I can't remember. One was a boy I think, young, long robes. Perhaps."

"Will you remember me?"

"No. We don't get to keep our memories."

The train pulled into a station, commuters entering the carriage making it difficult for Waverly to continue interrogating her time-travelling companion. She wished Haught was more open. There's so much you're not telling me. What are you hiding Haught? What aren't you telling me? Your eyes give you away.