Glitch (The Write Awards 2013 Winner)

Glitch - Chapter 10

 It had happened again. The stain of ignorance across her mind was preventing a clear image of the future. Every time Freya came under the impression she had taken a step away from the shadows of unawareness she met a pair of hands to press her back again.

There had been a time where she placed her understanding a notch above her peers. Back home she had always been different. They did not see things the way she did, they did not question anything at all. Freya spent her life being the antithesis. She dedicated her entire identity to being the one person who could see the full picture and not just the fragmented corner. In her own arrogance she drowned her true character and built a farcical construct in its place. Freya had willingly contributed to the height of her fall. All this because she tried so hard to be a direct extension of her father.

Where she had once seen a landscape of knowledge she was now faced with scenery of the unknown. The irony was now very clear. All this time she had merely been in the higher cohort of ignorance and that fact was perhaps the clearest view she had ever possessed. Enlightenment, on the other hand, was never a possession of hers. Freya finally dropped the absurd notion. It was time to reintroduce herself to the identity she had thrown away; the lost girl who knew absolutely nothing at all.

It seemed fitting that she settled herself on the floor beside Wren. Their shared lack of knowledge relegating them to the ground. Bryn cleared his throat as he perched himself nervously on the edge of the bed. The occasional twitch of his leg suggested an inclination to stand up and pace. He can’t have been very comfortable and yet the limbo between reclining and pacing seemed to be his chosen position. A little to the left Mat had claimed use of the chair. His seating position seemed more secure, although his head leant forward and rested on the end of his clasped hands. Neither had spoken a word since the decision to regroup in the privacy of Bryn’s room.

Lack of knowledge unravelled Freya. She was running out of patience and was not going to linger in silence politely in wait for answers.

“Tell us.” She addressed this to Mat in a voice that had no need for volume to make its authority known. Her eyes seared a path to his with a stare that demanded to be acknowledged. His eyes dutifully lifted and, with a nod of defeat, he began to speak. 

“Every year Satis holds an annual ball. It’s an excuse for the Government to stick their nose in; make sure everything is in order. They send a representative to attend and for a few days they snoop around before leaving us to it. Usually we are assigned Hugh Clemens. He’s alright as far as Government representatives go. Doesn’t say much, doesn’t ask for much and doesn’t expect much from us in return. It makes it easier to pretend to be civil to each other that way. We’ve got it down to a well practiced art of as little conversation as possible; everyone is happy. But every now and then Clemens can’t make it so they send the back-up. Vincent Jacobs is a vile man. He spouts endless comments delivered from his vapid, bigoted and self-indulgent mind and he makes his superior presence known throughout the Convent…”

“So I’ll bite my tongue for a couple of days…” Freya interjected. The suggestion that she could not handle herself riled the embers of her vexation even further. A particularly venomous thought hissed that she had tolerated Mat’s company long enough to cope with a man who had too much self-worth for his own good.

“That’s not the problem.” Bryn’s voice had a way of soothing the sting of her frustration. Unapologetically earnest and yet calm; it wasn’t the sort of tone to invite a snapped reply. Freya bit down her animosity and allowed Mat to continue.

“Mr. Jacobs has a clear set of ideologies when it comes to Anomalies: that we are second class citizens, we deserve our fate and because of this he can do whatever he likes with us. This he applies in particular to the female Anomalies. Every time he visits the first thing he does is eye up the newly arrived girls. They’re just easy targets to him. No one kicks up a fuss at the abuse of Anomalies. Most of the new girls are 'unblemished' and he sees nothing wrong in using them for himself. His reasoning is that if they have no use for one man in particular, he may as well enjoy them. And you are both stood directly in the firing line of his attentions; the youngest and newest arrivals…”