The Insane Boy

Chapter 4 - Small Secrets First

For the rest of the day I sit at my single metal desk, completely engrossed. I’m like a child who has never seen the world, sucking up every shattered fragment of information they find. But I suppose I am that child. I only remember torn shards from when I was no older than five. The teacher talks mostly about history, and I’m lapping it up like it’s my own life. He talks of the war, mainly how the remaining nations fought for the last resources, in the process almost destroying life completely.

The teacher’s words are automatically projected onto the board on the front, but I don’t copy the other children as they hastily scribble down notes. I would rather just listen; I don’t dare to miss a single sentence. Around me, I can feel the eyes of the seven others in the class flicker to me when ever they pause, probably curious. Or maybe simply judging me. But it doesn’t feel like that. In the few moments that I tear my attention away from the teacher, they seem merely slightly confused at my intense focus on the monotonous drone of the teacher’s voice. Or maybe wary.

I don’t know what effect I have on people.

The siren sounds at midday, when the sun is directly overhead. Our class floods into the corridor, joining the bumbling mass heading towards the centre of the building.

We eat lunch in a large hall, and I sit with a group of my classmates. I don’t really talk to them, and they soon forget about me aside from a few awkward glances in my direction.

I feel like this should bother me, but it doesn’t. I feel better just listening. And watching. I cannot stop searching, examining the room and people alike. I watch their faces and their movements, and in minutes I am putting together the pieces of how this place functions. There are mainly small groups that seem to keep to themselves – like the one June sits in across the room – but also the occasional person sitting alone. Drifters. There are a couple of them, and they seem almost wary of the others. They keep glancing around the room, but not at the children. They look at the ceiling, the walls. And the window. The one that looks over at the Facility. I turn in my seat to look at it. It is unremarkable, but looks more industrial than most buildings here. Unpainted, with no windows. Not one. It’s maybe six stories tall, and composed of uniform concrete walls with small vents cutting strips across it. At first glance it’s forgettable, but the more I look at it, the more imposing it seems. I suppose that’s why June was so scared of being picked up by them. I shiver involuntarily.

‘What are you looking at?’ I don’t turn, I heard him sit down next to me before. Slowly, I drag my eyes from the window and set them on him. He’s my age, sandy blonde hair cut short in a practical style. His mouth is turned up in a slightly sarcastic grin, eyes watching me lazily.

‘And why do you care?’ I retort, unimpressed.

‘Well, my little friend,’ he starts dramatically. ‘In my time I have seen many children wonder what happens behind the walls of the Facility. But only I have the key to what happens within.’ His eyes are bright when he realises that he has got my attention.

‘Tell me.’ My voice is demanding. Firm. I am not here to be pushed around.

‘Ah, now lets not get ahead of ourselves now,’ he says mockingly, knowing he has all the power. ‘This is some prime information I have here. Information that I don’t think anyone else has. And also the information the Facility in question will probably not be happy about.’ His voice is casual, but low. He is not stupid, and he knows what I suspect. This is not a system that is lenient. No matter what Anna says, wiping people’s minds means you have something to hide.

‘I’m not here to play with you. You will tell me or leave,’ I say back, my eyes on his.

‘This information isn’t free, what will you give me?’