Cardinal Tower (Trinity Central Book #1)

Chapter 8

"Lay on the table, head under the Arctiviose," the monotone voice commands. Arctiviose. I mutter the foreign word under my breath, it must be that strange machine connected to the table. "Lay on the table, head under the Arctiviose," the robot repeats. The order is requested every few seconds, probably programmed to never tire of my stubbornness.

"Don't tell me what to do!" I call mockingly into the nothingness. The recording grows louder until it's a few decibels short of making me deaf. I roll my eyes when it becomes evident that it won't stop until I follow it's orders. Besides, I'm not exactly in the position to be refusing demands.

I make my way to the table to get a better look at what was on it. Six iron straps, three on each side, hang loosely off the sides, each strap on the left side longer than their right, buckle bound, counterparts. I sit on the metal table, immediately feeling the cold on my exposed skin, and slowly laid down as instructed to ease myself into the sudden change of temperature.

The steel platform is barely long enough for me to fit my entire, relatively average, body length, leaving the very top of my head underneath the entrance of the Arctiviose. My loose hair falls over the edge, and my feet are pressed to the opposite corner. The iron straps suddenly wrap around my body, trapping my arm and confining my malnourished figure with ease. I don't bother resisting, knowing that it's a waste of energy that would most likely end in vain.

The table slowly rises and makes its way into the opening of the mysterious device until it's gone far enough that the opened end can close with a loud slam, making me jump a bit. It's fairly spacious, I can lift my head up a bit before it hits the metal above me, but still no bigger than a coffin. There's a screen above me about the same size as the cable set in my room. It lights up engulfing the pitch black interior of the Arctiviose with a calming light blue hue. The light isn't too bright but it's bright enough for me to see my surroundings.

Other than three rows of four buttons behind my head, there was nothing else notable about the machine. The screen has a ring in the middle slightly darker than it's background.

A voice starts up, "State your name." The ring expands and shrinks corresponding to the level of volume the voice produces before going back to its resting size during the silence. It's the same female robotic sound as the recording from before.

"I think you already know it," my smart-alecky self responds when remembering my initial greeting.

"Invalid response. State your name," the machine returns.

I chuckle to myself before properly answering, "Castelle Addison Berkeley."

"State your class divided province: Lutum, Tetra, Stella, Rex."

"Tetra." I reluctantly say. The castes were put in so those in power can remind people of their place in the world. Lutum, Latin for dirt. They're scum in the eyes of anyone important. Tetras are barely any better, I'm slowly climbing the ranks though, or rather, I was. Stella's are those who can afford roofs; everyone in Trinity Central is at least a Stella. Rexs are rulers. CEOs, government officials, any member of the presidential family. Rexs are the absolute worst. They have so much power and yet they do nothing besides make their lives better at the expense of the lower classes. A gut wrenching reminder that not too long ago, I could be called one too.

The blue wheel turns before collapsing into the center and changing its color to a dark forest ombre. My surroundings are now blanketed with a shade of light green representing my province when the recording starts again.

"State your age."

"Seventeen."

"State your gender."