Page 90 of Xantera
“No, but they might have dropped it to… him. He’s been especially quiet these last few nights.”
Another female Guardian. I don’t dare glance around the statue’s bust to check, but if I had to guess, I’d say it’s the Eighth talking to the Tenth—about Lucan and… what?
“Maybe he’s finally dead.”
“Or maybe he’s planning—whatwas that?”
I pray she’s talking about something else, not the shadow of me scurrying behind the next statue over and slipping into the first unlocked door I come across. On the other side, I wait with bated breath for the two Guardians to barge in after me…
But after several seconds, it seems they’ve shrugged it off and moved on.
I blow out a breath of relief. For such a strong, immortal species, they certainly don’t seem to have the same sense of smell that Lucan does. The thought makes me smile, but any smugness I feel quickly slips off my face as soon as I turn around to take a look at this new room I’ve found myself in.
A bluish light emanates from the far back wall, but there’s some sort of soundproofed wall blocking my view of whatever’s casting it. It doesn’t reach either wall to my right or left, or the ceiling, so there’s just enough room for someone to slip around it.
Cautiously, I creep to the side and poke my head around the wall.
I blink.
And blink again.
Rows and rows of screens, just like the one that sits in my dining room, are stacked on top of each other. But instead of the familiar image of a half-baked sun rising over a grassy knoll, these show something entirely different:
Alleyways, housing complexes, living rooms, kitchens. There’s the Recreation Center, the Blood Moon Palace courtyard, the Educational Institution, and what looks like the Production Factory, though I’ve never been inside. My heart squeezes when my eyes gloss over a patient’s room in the Healing Center, then the locker room.
In front of the screens, one woman stands with her arms crossed behind four men who sit in swivel chairs with their backs to me, all of Xantera laid out before them. They shuffle through these views on the screen like a slideshow, inspecting the ‘privacy’ of other people’s homes and workplaces.
“That one,” the woman says suddenly, turning to point at one of the screens on the far left. My stomach curdles at the sound of her voice and the shape of her profile…
It’s Rosalyn, the sentry who visited Malcolm and me, the one who loves control.
On the panel in front of his chair, one of the men maneuvers some type of stick, and a video of a couple inside their housing complex enlarges across multiple screens. He presses a button, and their voices fill the dark room.
“...just seems like you’re not happy with the Guardians’ choice sometimes. Or with me.”
“I never once said that! I would never question their decisions!”
“Then why are you alwayscomplaining? It’s like you’re not…”
The man presses another button, and the couple freezes mid-fight.
“Send it to the Guardians,” Rosalyn instructs, an unnatural joy trilling through her voice. “I’ll go speak with them.”
The sound of clickclacking fills the room as the man types something out, and a message pops up on the screen in bold red letters.
SURVEILLANCE VIDEO LOGGED FOR GUARDIANS.
Then it disappears.
In its place, an image of a courtyard emerges, one I haven’t seen before—one where two people walk around a fountain, before it switches to another couple drinking tea in the comfort of their home.
Another man rolls his chair to the edge of the desk and turns a dial, a soft click associated with each time he rotates, and then with his palm, he bears down on the button and a female voice blares out through the monitors.
“Citizens of Xantera, please return to your individual housing units. Recreational time is over.Citizens of Xantera, please return to your individual housing units. Recreational time is over.”
I jump, my heart in my throat. The same voice I’ve heard my whole life is really just an imprisoned man selecting a phrase and pressing a button.
My elbow jolts out from my side, hitting the screen and sending a metal clunk reverberating around the room.
