Unplugged: The Beautiful World (#3, Unplugged Trilogy)

Chapter Forty Two

Matthew

I stare at the camera suspended from the corner of my room. An ironic laugh rises in my throat and almost bursts through my lips. I guess at this point, they don't even bother to conceal the fact that I'm being watched.
On the blank wall across from me, a clock ticks out the seconds into oblivion. Not only do they want me to know that I can't take a piss without them seeing, but I have to be able to count down the remaining moments of dignified life as I know it. How thoughtful.
Memories of the Academy of Global Doctrines drift back to me at the sight of the camera, hazy but still intact. My room had dark blue wallpaper... No, dark purple. My roommate was a black boy named Eric. Wait... was it? I shake my head and lie back on the flat mattress, folding my hands over my chest.
I'm slightly alarmed to realize that I can feel the hard lines of my ribs against my wrists. I've never been this skinny in the past. Now, my skin clings to bones and what's left of my muscles. My breaths come harsher than before, and I try to force them out smoother. I'm dying, and I know it. They know it too, no doubt. The real question is whether starvation, dehydration, or murder will do the job.
Trying to divert my dark train of thought, I carefully get to my feet and survey the small window on the wall adjacent to my bed. I suppose they'd rather me not have a view of the outside world, but in the Pillar it's hard to find a completely closed-off room. At least I can stare into the sky at night. And pretend I see stars.
Now, the sun steadily soars across the evening sky, illuminating the roiling wastes of the Atlantic Ocean. I start to think about the beautiful ocean out west, where the air smelled of fresh salt and the sand felt like silk against my skin. How could anyone keep something so precious hidden for so long? The cruelty smarts. I rest my elbows on the window sill and lean my forehead on the glass, now cooled by an evening breeze. I watch as my breaths fog up small patches of the glass until my door opens behind me. Though the sudden noise startles me, I hasten to conceal a reaction and continue to face forward.
"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Fake Enna drawls, firmly shutting the door behind her as she steps further into the room. I choke down a weak, sarcastic laugh.
"The ruins?"
"The sunset," she mutters. I clench my knuckles. They turn white.
"Tell me what you want from me or get out."
"Oh, Matthew, how silly of you to think I'd want something. I only wish to chat." Her words sound haughty, yet the tone supporting them falls oddly flat. Losing my resolve, I turn around to face Fake Enna. A faint, barely detectable purple shadow surrounds her bloodshot eyes. She carries a tray laden with drink glasses and a tall bottle of wine.
"What's that?" I ask automatically, pointing to the drink. Fake Enna sets the tray down on my pathetic side table and uncorks the bottle, narrowing her eyes naughtily. I bite my lip and fidget with my hands. She only replies once she's seated upon my bed.
"I want you to feel comfortable around me, Matthew. No more of this enemy business, for goodness' sake!" She pours a bright red liquid into the wine glasses until they're almost overflowing with the beverage. "For now on, we're co-workers. Partners." I knit my brow and remain rooted firmly where I stand. This is definitely not like Fake Enna. Where are the taunts, the threats, the stern orders? My eyes scan over the rough strands of her dyed hair and the crumbling edges of her lipstick. Maybe I'm not the only one having a rough time here.
"Well, don't just stand there like an imbecile," she snaps, slapping a hand down on the mattress beside her. There: that's more like it. Sparing a rushed glance at the dangling security camera, I stride across the room and sit down beside Fake Enna, making sure to leave a good foot of space in between us.
"What if the camera hears us?" I mutter nervously. "Wouldn't we be in trouble with your people?"
"It only records video," she mutters offhandedly, taking a sip of her drink. "You've never tasted wine, have you?" Her voice sounds slightly slurred, as if the drugs are already getting to her head. Feeling awkward and too big for my skin, I shrug.
"Only the rich had the privilege." With another wry smile, Fake Enna lifts one of the glasses and holds it out to me. I stare at it warily; this wouldn't make the first time I've been covertly drugged by the Regional Government...
"Come on. I didn't poison it." I raise an eyebrow and Fake Enna rolls her eyes. A minute smile tugs at her lips. "You watched me pour the drinks, alright?" With a shrug, I accept the glass and take a small sip. The wine goes straight to my head and leaves a tangy, bittersweet aftertaste on my tongue. After I wait a moment to make sure the drink wasn't tampered with, I tilt my head back for a second, larger sip.
"What do you want to talk about?" I mutter, running a hand through my hair. The aching knots on the side of my head, gained somewhere between the government jet and this room, start to grow numb. My breaths leave my lungs with a new softness and my eyelids grow heavy. For the first time in months, I feel calm.
Fake Enna's eyes flicker upwards then back to me in seconds flat. Could she have been looking at the camera, or was I just imagining things? She lowers her voice slightly, even though she'd said that the camera doesn't pick up audio.
"I wanted to help you out." She takes another unmeasured gulp of wine. "Despite what others are telling me, I think you deserve to know the game plan."
"Seriously?" I ask, both flattered and dubious. My cheeks grow warm, and it's not just because of the alcohol. Fake Enna bites her lower lip and shifts a little on the mattress.
"No one else can know that I told you anything, alright?"
"No promises." I take another sip. Fake Enna rolls her eyes.
"That announcement we made this morning covers most of it. But there's something else we're not telling the rebels." I wait with baited breath. "I've been working on prepping the Hidden Allies for battle. They're on their way to New York." I open my mouth to respond, realize that I'm too shocked to think of anything to say, and mindlessly down the remaining contents of my wine glass.
"Matthew?" Fake Enna carefully reaches out and takes my wrist. Disgusted, I yank my arm away.
"You're leading those beasts?"
"Yes. I have been for the past month or so. But they'll only attack if Enna doesn't turn herself in." I rub a hand down my face and try to organize my muddled thoughts.
"And you want me to know this, why?"
"Because you deserve to know what's happening, even if you can't change it." She scoots nearer to me, bright green eyes wide, and I can't find the strength to move away. "I respect you, Matthew. I hope you can find it in yourself to spare me the same courtesy."
"Oh, yes. Respect the woman who's planning to lead a monster army into one of the largest cities in the country." Fatigue claws at the backs of my eyes, and I start to feel some of my vigilance slipping away. "Why are you doing this anyways? Risking your neck to warn me?"
"Because..." Fake Enna's voice falters. She raises her gaze to mine and doesn't bother to tear it away. I inhale sharply, surprised. Deep in those eyes, I feel like I can see something beautiful past all of the pain and anger. Something that belongs to Enna -- something that belongs to us. Point forgotten, she raises a manicured hand to my face, resting the other on my chest. Outside, the sun melts into the ocean, casting us both in a milky shade of purple. I suddenly start to wonder if this is all a nightmare: a horrible dream that's gone horribly awry. I suddenly start to wonder if I'll wake up and find myself back in the rebel hideout with Enna safely in my arms.
"I can feel your heart." Fake Enna whispers.
She's so close now that I can smell the wine on her breath and see the tiny spot of darkened skin on the side of her nose. I hold my breath, paralyzed, and she frowns. "Don't be nervous, Matthew. It's me."
    Her head drifts even closer and our lips meet in a soft kiss.
My fingers close tightly around the comforters they rest upon, and I raise a hand to her soft skin. The alcohol swimming through my brain performs an elaborate dance with confusion, mingling feeling with fact, reality with reprieve. There's a hard branch beneath my legs, a soft breeze, a hint of moonlight that turns her green eyes into glowing purple diamonds ...
Suddenly, I open my eyes and find none of those things: just a sterile room with a bed and two empty wine glasses. And Fake Enna.
Fake.
    Gasping, I jump up off of the mattress and stumble back towards the window.
"I should go," Fake Enna mutters instantaneously, looking horrified. Before either of us can say another word, she piles the wine glasses and bottle onto the tray and scurries out of my room, slamming the door in her wake. I stand, chest heaving, and stare after her through the glass window set into the door.

* * *

Fake Enna

Flames burn under my cheeks and I force myself to keep up a steady stride down the hallway. My neck itches to swivel, to look back at the room, but I refuse to grant it the movement. What was I thinking? What the hell was I thinking? No matter how much it may seem otherwise, I'm not Enna Price. Do I have her face? Maybe. Do I retain her memories? Perhaps. But I do not share her feelings. I cannot.
After a brief trip down the elevator, I stride through another hallway and enter my room, leaning back against the door to close it. I close my eyes and try to calm my heartbeat. That was a stupid, idiotic move. And not only that; it was a dangerous one. The eyes behind that security camera belong to Jeremy Perkins. What will he think about our embrace?
Dread pools in the lining of my stomach and I set the tray down upon my glass table, turning to face my sleeping quarters. Though they are far from the lavish scale of my old apartment in the Base, they still prove to be more than sufficient. I cross to the plush bed pushed against the expansive, floor-to-ceiling glass window and sit on the mattress, head in my hands.
"I don't care about Matthew Elliot," I whisper, squeezing my head. "He's my prisoner. He kissed me."
I'm a terrible liar.
"PRICE!" I jump to my feet as someone hammers on my door. Jeremy. Feeling uncharacteristically jittery, I cross over and twist the knob. He storms into my room, knocking me aside. There's about a minute of tense silence and pacing before he begins to speak.
"You have one chance to tell me what that was all about, and I better like your answer." I don't even bother to ask what he's talking about; I know he saw what happened in Matthew's room.
"Jeremy, listen..." I start. I try to keep my face clear. My brain travels at the speed of light. "I was taunting him, alright?"
"Taunting?" He asks skeptically.
"Yes. I... I guess I was more convincing than I thought." Jeremy's jaw tightens, his eyes flash fiery rage. He stomps across the room and stops when his face is directly in front of mine. I fight the urge to recoil or kick him squarely in the stomach.
"We're planning a war and you're sidling up to our prisoners?" He hisses. Then he raises his hand and slaps me so hard across the face that I'm launched a few feet backwards, slamming into my small set of table and chairs. I lie on the floor and let the screaming pain course through my body, fueling my outrage. My face stings. My bones throb where they collided with the furniture.
"You hit me," I whisper. Despite who I am, despite the strength I know I possess, I stare up at Jeremy with fear. He watches me back, brow wrinkled with an almost imperceptible hint of regret.
"Weakness and frivolity will not be tolerated. As much as I am your friend, Enna, I am your superior." He starts towards the door swiftly, flash gun swinging from his belt like a grisly metronome. "Alert the Hidden Allies. Tell them to quicken their march. I'll make sure that my sentries are keeping an eye on the security cams for Price."
He leaves me alone in my room, and--for the first time--I cry.