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74
Apparently, on First Trip day, the usual schedule does not apply.
After I wake to the sound of Beethoven’s “Fifth Symphony,” a message appears on my slab that a breakfast tray is on the way. When I’m finished eating, I’m to shower and dress—though avoiding the use of scented products or makeup—then head to the front hall, where an escort will be waiting.
A moment later, there’s a knock at my door, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping to find Braxton on the other side, delivering a tray heaped with coffee and croissants I probably won’t eat, partly because my stomach’s a jumble of nerves, but mostly because my fear of chamber pots runs deep.
Instead, I’m greeted by a boy who I guess is around my age. He has a sharp beak of a face and a deeply hooded gaze that studiously avoids meeting mine.
“Thank you,” I say, relieving him of the tray. “I can take it from here.” As I watch him nod and scurry off, I can’t help but think about all the others like him who quietly move about Gray Wolf—cleaning rooms, delivering dry-cleaning, necessities, and food—all without uttering so much as a single word no matter how much I try to engage them. Where do they come from? What are their backgrounds? Were they brought here to work as domestic staff? Or is this what happens to the Yellows who fail?
As Braxton once told me:No one is ever sent home for failing. If that’s the case, then is that where they end up? Because the thought of being forced to clean up after Elodie is enough to harden my resolve to slay this day, no matter the cost.
As promised, there’s an electric cart and driver waiting downstairs, and after cruising through numerous hallways and crossing several checkpoints that require us to show our slabs and prove our identities, we arrive at an enormous room that reminds me of the sort of top secret command center you might see in a big budget sci-fi movie.
The room is divided by a large floor-to-ceiling window. On one side, a massive computer panel blinks and hums, as a buzz of Gray Wolf employees hover around. On the other is what can only be described as a launchpad.
It’s like getting an up-close look at the future’s future.
Though he’s hardly the largest figure in the room, Arthur is the first person I see. I guess because he seems to occupy the most space, exhibited by the way the entire room revolves around him. Then again, he is the final word in what happens in this place.
When he sees me, he waves me over, and the crowd that surrounds him quickly disperses. “How are you feeling?” he asks. “Are you well rested, fed?”
I nod to indicate that I’m both those things.
“I know you’re probably nervous,” he says. “But not to worry, you’re in good hands. Jago’s first Trip was fairly recently, so he’ll understand what you’re going through. And of course, Elodie’s completed numerous Trips.”
Elodie?A wave of nausea rolls through me. My head goes into a spin. I can’t think of a worse traveling companion, especially after I blew up her party. And considering how Jago hooked up with Elodie last night, it’s obvious where his loyalties will lie.
“Point is,” Arthur continues, “you’ve got two great partners. Just follow their lead, and all will be well.”
I nod. It’s the best I can do. Mostly because I’m so nervous, I don’t trust my own voice.
“Just before launch,” he continues, “it’s customary for Roxane to brief you on the list of Gets.”
“Gets?” I say, not entirely sure what he means, but Arthur just waves it away.
“There’s nothing specific this time, so don’t worry about that. For you, I have something much different in mind. Something the others know nothing about.”
