I stare at the terminal's holographic display, the pathetic ten credits staring right back. The clock on the terminal reads 6:37 PM. With a frustrated sigh, I press my wrist against the scanner again. "Basic protein bar," I select, watching my credits drop to eight. The machine whirs, dispensing a gray, rectangular bar wrapped in clear film. I unwrap it and take a bite, immediately regretting my decision. It tastes like cardboard mixed with synthetic vitamins, leaving a chalky residue on my tongue.
"First day's always the worst," says a voice behind me.
I turn to find the green-haired woman I noticed earlier, her hollow eyes fixed on my protein bar.
"I'm Fae," she says, voice raspy as if rarely used. "You're wasting credits on that garbage when dinner's in twenty minutes."
I swallow the dry bite with difficulty. "No one told me," I croak with a tear nearly running down my cheek.
"No one tells you anything useful here." She glances around. "You should save every credit. Hoard them like they're oxygen."
"For what?" I ask, pocketing the remainder of the bar.
"For whatever you need to survive." Her eyes dart to a camera in the corner. "Wing One breaks people with the monotony and isolation."
The terminal shuts down automatically, its light fading as a soft tone signals the approaching end of free period.
"Guess you'll see for yourself soon enough," Fae mutters, her hollow eyes shifting toward the ceiling. "I've got to go."
She shuffles away, leaving me alone with my half-eaten protein bar and dwindling time. With less than twenty minutes of free period remaining, I decide to explore what little I can of this sterile prison they call Eden.
The corridors branch in multiple directions, each identical to the last, with polished floors, recessed lighting, and that omnipresent hum vibrating through the walls. Women move around, some in pairs, others alone, most wearing the same skin-tight white garments that leave nothing to the imagination. I notice how some have differences in theirs, ranging from small tears to just a straight-up different outfit.
I didn't think much of it at first, but that Lena girl was wearing a T-shirt and a short skirt around her waist, all in pure white. And now that I think about it, there was no color anywhere in this place. I guess that's what Fae meant by monotony.
I follow signs to Section F, memorizing the route as I go. Each junction features a small terminal displaying a map of the immediate area, but nothing comprehensive enough to piece together the full layout. Clever. They want us oriented enough to function but not enough to plan. At the entrance to a narrow corridor marked "F-1 through F-15," I pause, watching two women emerge from a room, their faces flushed, adjusting their garments. One catches my eye and smirks before whispering something to her companion.
"Enjoy the show?" she calls out, her voice carrying down the hall.
Enjoy what show? I watched you exit a room. Maybe they're going crazy, having been here so long.
I don't respond, instead continuing toward my assigned dorm. F-8 turns out to be a cell identical to the one I woke up in, though this one has a small shelf with basic toiletries and a thin blanket folded at the foot of the metal bed. I wonder how Mei knew what cell I was in. Maybe she knew the person here last? Wonder what happened to them…
"Home sweet home," I whisper to myself, testing the sink. The water runs cold for five seconds before shutting off automatically. I've always hated public restrooms for working this way, and now this is my life, apparently.
A chime sounds throughout the facility, followed by the AI's voice: "Dinner service commencing in five minutes. All inmates report to designated dining areas."
My stomach growls despite the protein bar. I exit my dorm, following the stream of women heading toward what must be the dining area. The hallways grow more crowded, bodies pressing together in the narrow space. Someone's hand brushes against my ass, deliberately, I'm certain, but when I turn, there's no way to identify the culprit among the mass of white-clad bodies.
The dining hall is vast but somehow still feels claustrophobic. Long tables arranged in rows, each with attached benches. Overhead, cameras swivel silently, tracking movement. I joined the line forming at the service counter, where women scan their wristbands before receiving trays.
When my turn comes, I press my naked wrist to the scanner.
"Rin Elowe," announces the system. "Standard nutrition allocation."
A robotic arm slides a tray toward me, loaded with a gelatinous gray substance that might be protein paste, a small portion of steamed vegetables so overcooked they've lost all color, and a cup of water. The bland and yet somehow off-putting smell hits me. It's like food designed by someone who's never eaten.
"It's absolutely disgusting," says a familiar voice. Mei appears beside me, her own tray bearing the same unappetizing meal. "But you'll get used to it. Or you'll spend all your credits on flavor enhancers and starve later when you need something important."
We find seats at a table near the wall. Around us, the dining hall buzzes with quiet conversations and the scrape of utensils against trays. "So," Mei says, mechanically shoveling food into her mouth without seeming to taste it, "how was your first free period?"
I prod at the gray paste with my spoon. "Enlightening. Everyone's so helpful here."
Mei snorts. "Yeah, we're just one big happy family."
I force myself to take a bite of the paste. It's worse than I imagined, being flavorless while also managing to be bitter with a consistency of wet clay. I swallow hard, fighting my gag reflex.
"You'll want to eat it all," Mei advises, noticing my struggle. "They track consumption. Too much waste, you get flagged."
"For what?" I ask, taking another reluctant bite.
"Noncompliance. Potential disorder. Who knows?" She shrugs. "But nothing good comes from flags."
Across the hall, I notice Lena holding court at a table, surrounded by women who hang on her every word. She catches my eye and raises her cup in mock salute.
"What's her deal?" I ask Mei quietly.
"Lena? She's been here three and a half years. Longest in Wing One without moving up or dying." Mei lowers her voice. "Some say she's an informant for the system, which I think is bullshit, seeing as Mother sees everything we do. I think she's just a bitch slowly losering her mind being in here, just like the rest of us. Either way, she has influence, and influence means protection."
I watch as Lena laughs at something, the sound carrying across the hall. It was far too loud and performative for my tastes.
"And what about you?" I ask, turning back to Mei. "What's your story?"
She stiffens slightly. "My story is my story. Here's one thing you learn quick in Eden: questions cost more than answers are worth."
A chime sounds, and the AI voice announces: "Dinner period ending in five minutes. Return to dormitories for reflection time."
Mei finishes her last bite and stands. "Your visitor will come after lights dim. Remember what I said."
"Who are they?" I press. "These visitors?"
Her expression darkens. "Part of the game."
Before I can ask more, she's gone, merging into the crowd heading for the exits. I scrape the last of my meal into my mouth, suppressing a shudder at the texture, and join the procession back to the dormitories. While on my way, I was once again groped on my ass without my permission, deciding to, again, forget about the very intentional feeling touch.
In my cell, the door slides shut behind me with a final-sounding hiss. The AI announces the beginning of "reflection time," whatever that means. I sit on the edge of the metal bed, running my fingers over the barcode on my collarbone.
Since I'm being given the time to reflect, I might as well.
What happened during that missing year? Why am I really here? And who will be visiting me tonight? The questions circle in my mind as I stare at the blank wall, waiting for whatever comes through that door.
My eyes flick to the clock embedded in the wall: 7:42 PM. Reflection time. What a joke. I pull my knees to my chest, trying to get comfortable on the unforgiving metal bed. The silence in this cell is oppressive, broken only by the faint hum of whatever machinery keeps this hellhole running.
Minutes crawl by. I trace the barcode on my collarbone, wondering what information it contains. My identity, perhaps?
8:00 PM. The lights dim gradually until the cell is bathed in a soft blue glow. Mei said my visitor would come after lights dim. I stare at the door, my heart rate increasing despite my determination to remain calm. Who will they send? What do they want from me?
8:17 PM. Still nothing. My muscles tense with each passing minute. I find myself counting my breaths, trying to pass the time.
8:34 PM. I pace the small cell, ten steps across, ten back. The anticipation is worse than whatever is coming, I decide. Classic psychological tactic; let the subject stew in their own anxiety.
8:52 PM. I've examined every inch of my cell twice over. No weak points. No hidden panels. Nothing but smooth metal and that ever-present camera in the corner, its red light blinking steadily.
9:08 PM. I sit back on the bed, eyes fixed on the door. Any moment now. My mind races through possibilities. A guard? An interrogator? Another inmate? Mei's warning echoes: "Don't trust them. No matter how much you want to."
A soft hiss breaks the silence, but it's not coming from the door. My eyes dart upward just as a section of the ceiling slides open. Before I can react, something-no, someone-plummets through the opening.
"Waaaah!" A high-pitched shriek fills the cell as a small body crashes directly onto me, knocking us both flat on the bed.
The wind rushes from my lungs. Disoriented, I find myself pinned beneath a warm, soft weight. A curtain of platinum blonde hair tickles my face as the figure atop me squirms.
"Owww," the voice whines. "They could at least warn me before dropping me!"
I push myself up on my elbows, dislodging my unexpected visitor enough to see her face. My breath catches. She's small, delicate, and almost doll-like with large, innocent eyes framed by those platinum blonde locks. Despite her childlike features, the body pressing against mine is undeniably mature, with curves that strain against her simple white garment, identical to mine.
"Who the fuck are you?" I manage, my voice harsher than intended from the surprise.
I sit up fully, keeping my distance. "I was expecting someone through the door."
"Oh." She tilts her head, confusion evident on her face. "Well, that would've been nicer than being dropped like a package." She rubs her hip. "I'm going to have a bruise."
I study her carefully. There's something off about her. She's not threatening, but definitely not normal. Her expressions are too animated for her not to seem weird to me. "Are you new here, too?" I ask, remembering Mei's warning.
Nina nods eagerly. "Yes! I woke up three days ago. They took care of me, just like you." She leans forward conspiratorially. "It's all very strange, isn't it? I don't remember how I got here either."
Her proximity makes me tense. She smells like vanilla and something clinical underneath. Antiseptic, maybe.
"What were you before?" I ask, shifting to put more space between us.
"A dancer!" She performs a little twirl on the spot, surprisingly graceful despite the confined space. "At least, I think I was. I remember stages and music and applause." Her smile falters. "But the rest is... fuzzy."
I notice how her eyes dart occasionally to the camera in the corner. Is she conscious of being watched, or performing for whoever is watching?
"Why are you here? In my cell?" I press.
Nina sits back down, closer than before. "To keep you company! They said you might be lonely on your first night." She reaches out, her small hand hovering near mine. "And to help you adjust. I can tell you what I've learned so far."
I pull my hand away before she can touch me. "I don't need company."
Her face falls, bottom lip protruding in an exaggerated pout. "Everyone needs company in Eden. It gets so quiet at night." She shivers dramatically. "The walls feel like they're closing in when you're alone."
There's something rehearsed about her words, but the fear in her eyes seems genuine enough.
"Fine," I relent. "What have you learned in your three days?"
Nina brightens instantly. "Well, the food is absolutely terrible. I used to be a chef before I was a dancer. Or maybe I was both? I'm pretty sure I worked in this amazing restaurant in Paris. Have you ever been to Paris? The lights are so beautiful at night, especially when you're standing on top of the Eiffel Tower. I went there once with my boyfriend... or was it my brother? I can't remember their name, but they had the most amazing blue eyes."
She rambles on without taking a breath, her hands gesturing wildly as she jumps from topic to topic. I watch her, increasingly skeptical. Her stories don't add up. One minute she's a dancer, the next a chef, then she's talking about a childhood in Switzerland, then Brazil.
"And the thing about Eden," she continues, "is that you have to watch out for the ceiling panels. They're always dropping people through them! I landed on someone yesterday, too. Poor woman nearly had a heart attack. Or was that two days ago? Time is so strange here."
Aaaand that's another discrepancy right there. If this isn't the first time she's been dropped on a person, why was she so surprised when it happened again?
I narrow my eyes. "Nina, why are you here?"