At dawn, the sound of a magnetic card woke me up. The door opened and Simon entered, beaming.
"Sleep well?" he asked cheerfully.
"Like a baby," I lied, sitting on the edge of the bed.
He didn't seem to notice my sharp tone.
"Perfect! We have a big day ahead of us. I'll show you the dining hall, the activity rooms, and maybe even..." He leaned toward me as if revealing a secret. "The terrace."
I forced myself to smile. Hugo's words still echoed in my mind.
"Great" I replied, my tone falsely cheerful.
Simon gave me a bright smile before turning on his heel and leaving me to take my shower and get ready. He left me to take my shower and get ready. When I opened the closet, I was surprised by its contents. They had provided us with everything we needed to dress and stay clean. We were given three sets of uniforms.
The hoodie and sweatpants. There was also a shorts and T-shirt outfit and a T-shirt and pants outfit. They were all identical: black and steel gray. We were also given two pairs of white sneakers with socks, sandals, slippers, underwear, three T-shirts, a towel, body lotion, perfume, a headband, a water bottle, and a backpack with a padlock.
I opted for the T-shirt and shorts outfit and a pair of sneakers. Once I was ready, I walked Chemi to the dining hall. There was no need for a guide; I just had to follow the smell and the other residents, who greeted me as I passed. Voices echoed everywhere. No sooner had I walked through the door than two boys walking side by side turned toward me.
"Hey, newbie ! Did you fall asleep without having an anxiety attack?" one of them asked, laughing.
I raised an eyebrow, puzzled.
"The first night is the hardest" said the other with a sympathetic smile. "I dreamed I was stuck in a refrigerator."
"I dreamed I was eating my shoelaces," the first added.
They burst out laughing. A polite smile stretched across my lips. I didn't have the strength or desire to respond or bond too quickly.
"You'll see. Breakfast here is kind of...the only thing that makes you want to stay," said someone passing by on my right. He winked at me and continued on his way without waiting for a response.
The white walls of the hallway were dotted with black frames containing blurry images that were too abstract to be mere photos and too disturbing to be innocuous. I looked away.
When I reached the large double doors of the dining hall, the sound of conversation became denser and livelier. Laughter rang out; chairs scraped the floor; and trays clattered. I stood still for a moment, caught between the warm smells of fresh bread and coffee.
Simon spotted me immediately and waved broadly.
"Finn! Over here!" he said, patting the empty seat next to him.
I walked forward a little awkwardly. Then, my eyes met Hugo's. He was sitting a few tables away, surrounded by three other residents laughing at his jokes. He stared at me for a moment, then smiled discreetly and conspiratorially. I smiled back without moving too close.
I grabbed a tray and approached the buffet. And then... I froze. A shiver ran through me.
There were baskets of steaming pastries, tall glass dispensers filled with fresh juices, fruit cut up as if in a luxury hotel, several types of cereal, eggs, warm bread, cheese, hot milk, melted chocolate, and pancakes with an abundance of syrup. It was surreal. Unbelievable.
My stomach growled violently, almost painfully, as if in disbelief.
I took as much as I could: two croissants, yogurt, a hard-boiled egg, fruit, buttered bread, and a small bowl of cereal. And another croissant. Maybe one too many, but my hands were shaking slightly with emotion.
It had been years since I'd had a real breakfast. The few times I did eat, it was secretly, hastily, and poorly, under threat or between slaps. Here, all I had to do was reach out my hand. No one was yelling.
I returned to the table and sat down next to Simon. He was already talking with his friends.
"Meet Finn!" he said proudly, pointing at me.
"Hi, I'm Xavier. I didn't think you'd make it through the night.Congratulations," he said with a sarcastic smile.
I nodded, not caring, and focused on my food. Conversations were flying around me. They were talking about music, sports, theater, games, reading, and old memories.
"I swear, I almost cried when they canceled the tryouts two years ago!"
"My dream is to participate and join the training center. I want to become perfect," Nathaniel sighed.
"Your turn will come soon. Keep hope alive."
Without realizing it, I stopped moving. What I had just heard was disturbing. What were they talking about? What is a training center? They continued discussing another topic and laughed, but I didn't laugh.
I slowly swallowed each bite, cautiously savoring what seemed like a trap. You don't give away that much food for free in a place without interior door handles.
I didn't let my guard down. This wasn't a meal that would make me forget where I was.
Above all, I knew how to survive.
At the end of the meal, Simon continued singing the praises of the gods and this place. Everyone seemed to believe him. He asked the others for their opinions on the place and did everything he could to convince me. They all repeated the same speech like a poem learned by heart.
Simon's insistence almost made me cringe, but I had no choice but to listen to him. I wasn't ready to accept his worldview, but I could at least take a closer look at the place and try to understand what was really going on. Simon kept talking to me about the gods, their goodness, and this so-called second chance. However, every word seemed more absurd to me. How could anyone agree to be locked up in a place like this under the pretext of being saved? I almost forgot that we were here because we had killed, attempted suicide, or tried to escape the government's perfectionist system.
This place was nothing but an illusion. It was similar to my attic: I was still trapped but in more humane conditions. This time, I wasn't alone. What do the gods expect of us? Will they dare show themselves to us?
I forced myself to smile and show a semblance of cooperation, but inside, I was seething. I wasn't ready to accept what was happening to me. Not after coming so close to tasting freedom. Not after spending ten years in the shadows, suffering. I was certain that this place hid much more than it showed, and I was determined to discover the truth, even if it meant breaking the rules.
A few minutes later, I saw Hugo again at the end of the corridor. He was chatting casually with some of the other residents. His gaze and demeanor left me with a strange impression. The other young people on that floor seemed completely absorbed in their activities and paid little attention to me. I was a stranger, and they treated me as such, just another resident in their long line. They kept their distance from me because I hadn't embraced their ideology yet. Even when I tried to smile, my face showed my disgust for this place and contempt for its fanatics.
Simon, who had been watching me during this exchange, glanced at me sideways as if he knew my distrust of this place would not disappear anytime soon. But he said nothing. Perhaps he thought time would do its work and that, with patience, I would eventually understand or accept the situation. Yet, deep down, I felt that the longer I stayed, the closer death would come. There was nothing normal about this place. We were trapped behind a huge wall in a residential area I had never heard of.
"The people here are nice, aren't they?" It's like one big family. Once you find your rhythm, I'm sure you'll grow attached to this family."
He said this in such a casual tone that it made me feel sick. When an Indian-looking inmate approached us, urgently asking for Simon's help, Simon apologized and disappeared down the stairs with the man he called Aditya. There was a void in the hallway. Only Hugo, his friends, and I remained. Hugo came to my rescue, offering to continue the tour in Simon's place. He stopped in front of a door, his hand on the doorknob. I hesitated for a moment. He looked at me, opened the door, and said,
"Welcome to the relaxation area. The residents come here to get together, chat, and exchange ideas over a nice cup of tea..." He hesitated for a moment, his gaze wandering again. "Well, that's what they say, anyway."
I followed him into the room, not really knowing what to expect. People sat in luxurious armchairs with cups of tea, whispering to each other and staring at a television screen showing images of perfection, gods, and the new world. It was as if their world boiled down to just that: being perfect.
An invisible weight hung over us. I felt as though every word and thought were being recorded. It wasn't a place of relaxation. It was a place of submission and surrender. A brainwashing room.
Hugo led me to a secluded corner. He pointed to a bench near a window, and I sat down without saying a word. His gaze became more intense, as if he were about to confide something important in me. He lowered his voice.
"Listen, it's not as simple as you think. This place destroys people mentally; it changes them. Everyone has their place here. The higher you go, the more complicated it gets."
I looked at him, puzzled. He seemed to be searching for words as if he wasn't sure he wanted to tell me too much.
"You mean the floors?" I asked.
A slight smile appeared on his lips, but it was hard to tell if it was a smile or a grimace. He nodded.
"There are 700 rooms, one for each resident. Our rooms are not assigned at random. There is a hierarchy that classifies inmates from least to most dangerous, depending on why they are facing justice before ending up here."
He stood up and invited me to follow him again. He approached an elevator almost hidden in a corner. The faint sound of the elevator's mechanism echoed in the heavy silence of the room. Hugo pressed the button to bring the elevator up to our floor without hesitation. He continued his explanations while waiting for it.
"The floor where your room is located is quiet. It's reserved for victims. From the 16th to the 20th floor. These are the harassers, those who hurt without ever touching. They like to play with the suffering of others. It's all psychological, but they're still fairly controllable."
The elevator chimed, and the doors slowly opened. Inside, everything was clean, almost too clean. Hugo motioned for me to enter. Before doing so, he gave me one last look, darker this time.
"The higher we go, the more terrifying it will become."
I stepped into the elevator, followed by Hugo. The doors slammed shut with a heavy thud. The air suddenly seemed cooler. He looked at me, preparing to reveal the truth without sugarcoating it.
"Above the 20th floor, it's failure. From the 21st floor up, you have the suicidal. They are people who no longer want to live and have lost all hope. They are often withdrawn or in a trance-like state. They're not necessarily dangerous, but they're psychologically unstable and dangerous to others. Given that we live in confinement, it's easy for them to impact someone else's mental state with their dark thoughts and dead eyes."
I shuddered. With such unstable people sharing the building, this place was becoming a living hell on every floor.
"Then there are the aggressors, 27 to 31. They steal, rape, assault, fight, and hurt others for trivial reasons, or sometimes for no apparent reason. They're just driven by anger or bad mentality."
He paused, as if to gauge the impact of his words.
"Thirty-one to thirty-three are the worst. The psychopaths. They're not even allowed to communicate with others." He lowered his voice. "They're pathetic beings who are too dangerous to have any contact with."
I remained silent, staring at the numbers scrolling above us. The coldness of the elevator seemed to permeate every word, making the air even icier.
"Then there are the sociopaths, 34 to 38. The lunatics are at the top of the hierarchy. But their rooms are restricted too. They're locked away, separated from the others, just like the psychopaths." He took a deep breath. "These people don't mix with others."
The elevator doors slowly opened to reveal a narrow corridor bathed in pale light. The walls were a dingy white and smooth as thick plaster. Cracks stretched along the ceiling like veins. The atmosphere was heavy, as if the air itself were growing denser with each step I took. Each step echoed in the oppressive silence, broken only by my suddenly too-loud, nervous breathing. I wished I had never set foot in the elevator and become aware of the horror above me.
Unfortunately, we couldn't finish the tour. We ran into an angry Simon who was waiting for us near the stairs. Without saying a word, he dragged me into an almost deserted hallway, leaving Hugo standing like an idiot in the elevator.
"You should have waited for me," Simon said in a calm-sounding tone, but the shadow in his eyes betrayed his anger. "I am the building representative. It is up to me, and me alone, to show you around."
I didn't know how to respond, as I found his reaction excessive. I watched him stoically, my face almost expressionless and frozen as usual. Then, a figure appeared at the end of the hallway: Hugo. He stood there with his arms crossed and a gloomy expression. His eyes met mine, and he gave me a furtive glance, as if something unspeakable were happening between us. A shiver ran through me.
Simon noticed my gaze and clenched his fists without saying a word. His features hardened into an expression I had never seen before. The tension rose a notch. He gave me a cold look, then turned away as if he had suddenly decided to leave.
"We're going back to your floor. I don't think you need to visit anymore," he whispered hoarsely. He seemed to be controlling his anger, but I could see it bubbling beneath the surface. At first, I missed a detail, but I quickly understood. He didn't like that Hugo was there or that I had been alone with him for several minutes. The control he thought he had over the situation had cracked.
When he mentioned taking the stairs, his voice betrayed an impatience he couldn't hide. He wasn't in a hurry to end the discussion. It was Hugo's presence that bothered him most.
"What's your problem with him?" I asked, breaking the silence. The words came out of my mouth before I could think. I knew I had to understand and couldn't ignore what was going on between them.
Simon stopped abruptly and turned to me with such a furious look that a shiver ran down my spine. He didn't answer immediately, though. He seemed to hesitate, as if weighing each word. Before he could say anything, though, Hugo took the lead, his voice loud and sharp.
"He doesn't like me because he's upset that someone other than him has any influence here. He likes being in control. You're a secret he's decided to keep to himself. What he told you, what he showed you..." .He paused, his gaze darkening further. "He's afraid, you see? Afraid of what you might know."
I sensed a palpable tension in his words, a truth he didn't dare reveal completely. Simon wasn't just afraid of Hugo; he was also afraid of what Hugo knew or might say. And it wasn't just words. No, it was something more: It was a buried truth that was too dangerous to expose.
Simon's look was no longer that of a guide. It was that of a man who knew he was unsettled and wanted to regain control of the situation. He wanted to know everything. Most of all, he wanted me to know nothing of what Hugo might reveal to me. It was this fear, bubbling inside him and hidden behind his apparent calm, that disturbed me the most.
I remained silent, observing Simon with a more piercing gaze. He motioned for me to follow him and went downstairs without waiting for me. I took one last look at Hugo, then followed Simon to my room.
I stared at him in silence, my mind racing as I tried to piece together the puzzle before me. Everything seemed too orderly and perfect to be the result of mere chance.
This rigid classification of floors had something unhealthy about it.
"I still don't like it" I muttered more to myself "How can you act like nothing happened?" I asked in a hoarse, almost strangled voice.
Simon shrugged and a glimmer of sadness flashed across his eyes, a fleeting reflection of his own doubts.
"We adapt. I already told you." His tone was calm, almost resigned. "That's all we can do here. We learn to survive in a world that no longer wants us. So we help each other; we support each other. You'll understand one day, too. That's our reality."
A heavy silence fell upon us, oppressive as a vise. At that moment, I realized that my sense of confinement came not only from the gray and white walls of the institution but also from the people wandering there. Each face seemed to bear an invisible scar, a mark left by the compromise of accepting an existence marked by suffering under the omnipresent gaze of the gods.
It was a cage adorned with lies and half-truths, and the only way out was death. That was the domain of the gods. Despite this realization, I still had to play the game and understand the rules before I could think of any kind of escape. One thing was clear: this place was unlike any other. Every minute I spent there pulled me further into a frightening reality in which I was at the mercy of my oppressors once again. After what I had been through with my parents and with men, I refused to let the gods walk all over me.
Finally, Simon broke the silence. His gaze searched mine, hinting at concern. I saw a shadow pass over his eyes, a mixture of panic and resignation. The air around us seemed to vibrate with latent tension that was almost tangible.
"Finn, please..." His voice was low, almost a whisper. "Don't do anything to anger them. The gods have already judged you. If you try to escape them..." He swallowed hard. You don't want to know what they're capable of."
I froze, my eyes narrowing. There was something more to his words, a veiled warning that was too sincere to be just casual caution. A visceral fear seeped through his voice.
"What do you mean by that?" I asked more coldly than I would have liked."
He took a step back, shook his head, and said, "I can't tell you. Not now. You have to live here a little longer. You have to accept the situation. It's the only way."
His refusal only fueled my suspicions. I knew I couldn't stay there waiting. There was no room for patience in this place. This wasn't a game, and the rules weren't made for me. The fear in his eyes, that raw terror, spoke of an evil far deeper than I had imagined.
I took a deep breath; my heart pounded as a single thought hammered in my mind: There was something darker and bigger behind these walls. Something I had to find out.
"That's enough, Simon." My voice cracked like a whip. "If you don't want to tell me, I'll find out for myself. But believe me, I'm going to find out the truth. And you won't be able to stop me."
"Contrary to what you think or what that idiot may have told you, there's a reason for all this. It's for our safety, to prevent people from hurting themselves or others." You'll see; with time, you'll feel comfortable here. You'll start to understand how this system works. The gods aren't here to hurt you; they're here to protect you. If you oppose them, then yes, you'd better fear death."
He nodded to get my full attention.
"Believe me, you'll end up liking this place. You have no other choice because it's impossible to leave here except in a coffin. Even then, we're not sure if you'll be buried."
"Why weren't you honest with me from the beginning?" Do you realize how scary what you're saying is? It's either obedience or death."
"The choice is yours. But if you ever want to rebel and join Hugo, I won't stop you. Just don't do anything that could put everyone in danger. Just die in your corner."
He turned away without a glance and left, seemingly having given up on the idea of bringing me into the fold. Perfection wasn't for me. I was willing to do anything to escape this hell. But if Simon is right and we offend the gods, what will happen to us?