Gears (NaNoWriMo 2017) (#1 Below the Machines)

Chapter 14

"Maid 58." I took no notice the first time, thinking that the voice was directed at somebody else.

"Maid 58!" They called again, and this times, I remembered that that was me. The name that had been given to me whilst I was here, as part of my undercover identity. "Hm?" I turned my head, dressed in my sleeping gown. Well, I wasn't even sure if it could be called a gown, as it was so threadbare it looked more like rags rather than a dress.

Heather was running up from behind me, one hand outstretched as if to tell me to wait up. I almost didn't recognise her at first — with her hair down and in a messy veil around her face, she looked nothing like the clean and pristine maid I knew her to be. Her own matching night dress looked to be a size or two too big for her, hanging over her thin frame like a stick figure. It made her look tattered in an immature sort of way — younger, more innocent.

She had just gotten out of the public bathrooms, her hair still slightly damp and carrying a soapy scent with it as she caught up to me. It made me cringe at the conditions in which these servants lived in compared to my own — even though it wasn't actually that bad to the point where they didn't have the most basic sanitary needs. Whilst I had my own personal ensuite back then as a special guest, the showers stalls and long lines they had looked like a nightmare. Even when I was collecting my nightgown, I noticed that we all had to share a single wardrobe (where all our clothes were hung on racks imprinted with our own numbers), which meant more queues. The fabric itself was also scratchy and uncomfortable on my skin. We also weren't allowed to keep our servant's ribbons, which meant that we all had to sleep with our hair down, being watched every minute of rest by female guards that patrolled the girl's dormitories.

"The bed above me has been empty for a good couple of months now. I think I'm the only Maid who gets an entire bunk to herself, and according to our orderings, numbers 40 to 60 are supposed to be grouped together in the dormitory. You can be my bed mate! Don't worry, I don't talk in my sleep, if you're worried about that. And if you don't feel comfortable sleeping up there, than we can switch places, if you like. I'm sure the guards won't mind, there's only a very small chance that they would bother to take a second glance, and even if they do, you're new, so I can always use the excuse of making you feel welcome." She said, a sparkle in her eye, but immediately after she said that, it dimmed, fading away. "Even thought that might not work." She muttered to herself under her breath. I resisted the urge to raise an eyebrow. I knew that I probably wasn't supposed to hear that. She seemed to have been talking specifically to herself.

Again, we were in a situation where we had to share. Each servant received their own mattress, but they had to have someone either sleeping onto or below them on the bunk beds. Worst of all, the beds didn't even have railings, which meant for a nasty bruise if anyone was a light and fidgety sleeper. The blankets were also thin, only barely enough to shy against the cold temperatures we were constantly in.

I nodded in the end, giving her a forced smile. In normal circumstances, I would've been more than glad to bunk with her, but she was a target. I was already scared that I was immersing myself into knowing her too much. I actually appreciated how welcoming and friendly she was, so I couldn't comprehend why I had to end her life. But this thought has been circling around and around in my mind for such a long time, it started to get easier to push it away, until I saw her again. It was because of this thought I was less willing to bunk with her. I eyed the other Maids, finding the telltale signs of all the girls who shared a bunk — most of them seemed happy in each other's presences or, outwardly friends.

Avoiding her eager stare, I walked towards the dorms, eyeing the labels on the doors, walking down the long, wide corridor that had doors carved into the walls on each side, each marked with a set of numbers. 0-20, 20-40, 40-60...