trig

[Lies are like moving patterns across someone’s face. They’re visible, if you look closely enough, though sometimes more than others, and on some people more than others. Lies are a bit like living, breathing creatures, because they leave real sensations prickling on skin, leave actual trails of awkward silences in rooms bereft of warmth, ease. They seep tension into cold, black rooms with floor to ceiling one way mirrors, are the sweat that stains tabletops under white-knuckled hands. 

Alex has seen a million lies. 

But the ones that are more difficult are the ones that simply aren’t whole-truths. The ones that waver unsteady on voices, as if they don’t know quite where they belong. The ones that accidentally crack at the back of a throat, the ones that show on a young, naive face because this particular speaker doesn’t have the experience it takes to make it believable. 

There are a million reasons why someone might lie to Donovan about something so simple. A million and one if you count the fact that a lot of people around here don’t trust Elites almost by default. But just because it’s a lie, or an incomplete truth, doesn’t automatically make it a harmful one, or one of any significance. 

Alex knows what it’s like to require privacy. In fact, he knows what it means to demand it. To need the privilege and right to keep things to himself, to tuck them away in ordered corners in his head, touched only by him, when he’s ready for them, and not a moment before. And he can imagine how civilians might be even more desperate for it. In a place where there is hardly a thing they do on their own. The bedrooms are not theirs alone, the common rooms, the dining hall, the classroom, the training grounds.  They are surrounded by nothing but shared space. He can imagine how suffocating that must  be. Especially for teenagers, when every change, every emotion feels like the gravest one. A bad day might very well be your worst of your life because you’ve got only so many in the pot. 

So the trouble is deciphering when they are harmless and when they are not. Because should someone ever walk away from a conversation with Alex by a lie Donovan had chosen to believe or to let go, and went and got themselves hurt or killed or lost, Alex wouldn’t be equipped to deal with those kinds of consequences. Wouldn’t handle feeling at fault, well. 

Trig’s self-surrendered explanation sounds a bit looser, a bit more relaxed, which is always a good sign. It’s probably harmless, Alex knows. But Alex wouldn’t be Alex if he didn’t take himself (and everything) a bit too seriously.]

Brothers? [he settles. Not accusatory for now. But an inquisition that buys him time.] Are you here with your whole family? [He doesn’t see too much of that. Sometimes there is a parent or two, maybe a sibling. But whole family connections having found their way to the Colony is quite rare.]

[Are you here with your whole family?

The question automatically makes Trig think of the ones they’d lost, three brothers that didn’t make it. Chuck and his quiet kindness that had been so surprising to Trig, little Sammy who tried so hard, and Slightly who always had a knack for making everyone laugh. Not one of them had deserved what had happened to them. All three of them should be here in the Colony with the rest of them. A complete family. It had taken Trig a little while to realize that despite not having a mother or father he did have a complete family. For a little bit anyways. Thankfully it had been realized way before Chuck’s death so he’d had months of that feeling. An odd, given their circumstances and his knowledge that families didn’t last, feeling of security at having a family and friends. Family now is three brothers here with him and three brothers still at the farmhouse in roughly dug graves.]

No. [Trig swallows roughly trying to hold back the emotions that answer brings up.] We uh lost um three. [For once Trig is uncomfortable for an entirely different reason then just talking to an adult. Guilt for not saving them and for surviving when they didn’t is still strong, he can’t imagine it will ever ease. Isn’t sure if he wants it to even. He’d never lost anyone to death before them, never anyone to lose. Sure the whole world had practically been destroyed and he’d seen people die, walked away from a boy’s home full of boys with only nine other survivors. But those deaths hadn’t left a hole in him. They hadn’t felt the same as losing each of his three brothers had. He’d been upset and scared but it was easy to bury that in the new task of trying to survive, coming up with plans and ideas on how to do that. The only thing he could bury when he’d lost his three brothers was their bodies. Even now it still felt raw and painful. A throbbing just under the surface waiting to come back whenever he thought of the lost, lost boys.

He’s lucky though, and that’s the thought he tries to hold on to. There’s three brothers here with him. Unlike some he’s not alone. While he’s not sure if that’ll always be the case it’s enough for right now. More than enough. No matter how long it lasts Trig knows he’ll always feel lucky to have had them, a family of his own.] I’m here with three of my brothers. We all ended up in different houses so we um have different schedules. [But I have a family, I belong some place, to people, I have friends, brothers. For someone who had so little to call his own for so much of his life and always felt out of place it was huge to have a family, no matter how small it was, or how unconventional it might be. There was a sense of pride in being able to say he had family, especially since he’d helped get them here. It mingles uncomfortably with the guilt he feels about the other three but it’s pride nonetheless.]

[Andreya was in the library because she was a cliche. She knew it, others would find out, whatever. She liked spending her spare time filling up her head with things she didn’t know - learning, accumulating, inputting, it was all part of what she hungered for. That, and she was bored to tears anymore. What else was she supposed to fill her time with? Extra chores? Yeah, right after she drilled a hole in her head, the one she needed.

She was thumbing through a dismally appropriate book on new-age technology, “Playing God,” when she heard the rhythmic thump-whacks of books falling from one surface to another. A young boy, somewhat familiar, was hunched over a table, reaching for books he had toppled over. ‘Like a child,’ she sighed in her head, wondering how it was possible to not realize he couldn’t reasonably carry so many books. There were quite a few, and it was only moments before Andreya was on her feet and crouching to help him collect them.]

Bit of light reading, I see. [She offered him a smile, suddenly recognizing who he was: that indignant little boy who had refused the granola bar however long ago. Ah. Right. Maybe they’d both been dicks that day. Maybe this would act as reconciliation. Maybe not, she wasn’t a mind reader. She came to the library to read books, not people’s thoughts.]

[Trig just wanted to read in peace. Bury himself in some science book, the occasional science fiction creeping in among the real science books now that he was feeling less like he needed to gain knowledge for a return to the outside. Instead he was indecisive and greedy in a way. Though he hadn’t planned on taking all the books at once, just making a list. A list that had to be prioritized by how likely he’d be to use the information inside it which meant he needed to look at the books. Now though he was stuck not only picking them up but getting help because he’d obviously disturb someone else.] Thanks.

[He mumbled the word as soon as he saw someone helping him. It wasn’t till she made a comment that Trig actually bothered looking up giving his helper a small shrug. A flicker of recognition was clear in his eyes before he looked back down. Bugger. And bugger some more. It was the granola bar woman. Probably thought he was an even bigger idiot now. Bugger.] Er yeah. Sorry um for the er noise.

[What he wasn’t sorry for was how he’d acted the last time they met. There were a few things he regretted about that time. Mostly that he’d even attempted bartering with the woman. But he wasn’t sorry for not wanting to be treated like a charity case. Though that wasn’t something Trig wanted to think about because then he’d end up thinking about how she’d reminded him for some reason of his mother. That was not a road he wanted to go down. Instead he focused on the books. This situation was embarrassing enough without bringing in the other one.]

[Adrian would be lying if she wasn’t a little put out. Though generally easy going, even she had her bad days. she hadn’t slept all that well last night and breakfast had been particularly terrible that morning. Training had had been horrible, she had let her ‘team’ down during the exercises and the Elite in charge of training had been more than happy to give her a hard time. After the day she was having it wasn’t like scrubbing toilets and mopping the Colony floor wasn’t exactly high on her list of favourite list of things to be doing right now.

As much as she had first wanted to shout at the boy she new it wasn’t her place. She wasn’t an Elite, she wasn’t his superior - hell she definitely wasn’t his mother. Though whoever his mother had been had done an a pretty good job considering her son had survived D-Day. Plus he did have the good sense to apologise to her. Trash duty. He wasn’t having the best day either]. It’s okay, just next time try wipe your feet on one of the many mats by the door.

[Adrian handed him the broom and dust pan before walking back to the janitor trolly.] Come on, we better retrace your footsteps. After you [she tilted her head in the direction he had come from, his tracks proof of his journey].

Right yeah. I was um— [Trying to avoid a pretty girl… Trying to avoid someone… In a hurry…] Not paying attention I guess. [Trig rubbed the back of his neck nervously. He’d been planning to just take off after he was done but her words let him know he wasn’t done. Looking in the direction she was talking about he could see his tracks. Bugger.

Dutifully he took the broom and dust pan.] Guess so. Sorry again. [Trig went to work on his mess, intent on just cleaning in silence. Except he found himself chuckling softly as a memory from the home came to him. Not wanting to look mad to this stranger he was with he spoke up.] The um floor made me think about one of our caretakers. [And because that sounded weird he had to elaborate.] She’d hate it here, couldn’t stand dirty floors. Only lasted a week at the home.

[Surprised he’d talked that much he left it at that. Trig wasn’t usually one to offer extra information, especially when he doubted it would be appreciated. He just made a mental note to tell the blokes about it later. They’d laugh along with him at the reminder of the caretaker’s face going purple at the sight of a jam jar breaking open on the floor. Not something an adult would understand. Maybe not something anyone other than his brothers would get even.]

[Amid ephemeral song, across the frosty tundra of her heart, Chloe waltzes within a sparrow’s nest and rarely stops to think. Tea time with the stars and singing on the moor, she falls within the barest cracks (though never does she sink). The foxes always bid her stay, but she will always be a runaway. The rebellious moon will always be there, calling her back.

She will never be like Trig again.

He seems so gentle.

It tugs at the febrile amblings of her blood, a memory in echo. Of noses in books, and the relentless pursuit of knowledge because it was all she had.]  Why would you need a lab? You can do so much without one. [She thinks she knows, but wants to hear him say it anyway.]

[He doesn't understand what she means. Doesn’t know how he could do anything without one. Or at least without the equipment within one. Looking at her quizzically it’s obvious her words have thrown him.] I uh…maybe not the lab but you need the equipment. Or at least to figure out the stuff I wanna figure out I do.

[Sure people have been doing science long before they had any of the that stuff. Except not his science, not microbiology, that needed specialized equipment. Trig wants to dig deeper, find out what changes there are in the DNA of infected verses non-infected. Because if he could understand how the infections changed him and his brothers maybe he could figure out how they could be controlled better. Ease Mouse and Cookie’s stress. That was the only science he was interested in doing right now.]

I take it you’re going old school then? That’s cool.

[Sighing, Adrian wiped her brow reflexively - a gesture of slight frustration. One of the downsides of mop duty was always that the floor only stayed clean for the few minutes it took to dry. Someone would alway inevitably walk by if not during - then right after you had mopped a certain spot. But Adrian had hoped that today she could at least move on from a section of dormitory hallway before seeing it sullied. 

Only the boy hadn’t just walked on a wet patch, he seemed to be trailing bits of mud and grass behind him. Not enough to look like something out of a cartoon but it was still enough for Adrian to have to pause and consider if she should first sweep up the mess or just try to mop it up right away.]

[She wasn’t going to get mad at him, she could see he clearly felt bad for making the mess. Truth be told scolding him would only trigger her maternal reflexes and Adrian wasn’t sure if she was up for that today. After all she had only been a mother for a blip of time in the grand scheme of things. And not a very good one if she could allow her daughter to be taken from her because of her husbands shady dealings with mobsters.]

It’s ok. I’ll make you a deal, you sweep and I mop?

[Trig was surprised that she didn’t scold him, there was something about her that made him think she would. Probably just her age. She reminded Trig of a few of the younger caretakers at the home. The ones who saw the boys as some sort of odd training for kids of their own. He never understood that line of thinking but he always supposed if a person could handle a home full of boys all different ages than one of their own would be cake. It was odd being around so many adults now that were not in the caretaker role.

He was grateful that she didn’t scold or yell at him. Maybe his offer to clean it up had helped. Now that he was done running his breathing was starting to slow down. He still felt breathless but talking felt easier.] Yeah, cool.

[This along with having to clean himself up was going to mean he’d miss class but it was English and he wasn’t fond of English anyway. And the teacher was one of the more reasonable ones so hopefully if he explained the situation it would be okay. Slowly, still checking to make sure the person he was avoiding hadn’t come in he went and grabbed the broom. Most of the grass and mud were gone but he took some paper towels from her cart and cleaned up his shoes a little bit before going back.] Sorry, again. I um had trash duty.

[All extra information like blondes he didn’t want to run into smelling and looking like a trash can Trig kept to himself as he started sweeping up the mess he made. At least he could do that right thanks to years of doing the same thing at the home.]

[Suddenly, the skills that Lex had spent over four years cultivating are nigh useless. Her aim is true and her punches land, and for that she gets a pittance in the form of house points she doesn’t give a damn about. But she gets little else.

Here, no one’s bleeding, no one’s dying, and no one’s looking to her like she could be some kind of savior, a shepherd, an Ariadne, guiding them safely through the maze.

Here, she’s the same as everyone else. She’s worse, because she has delusions of grandeur. Because she remembers being reckless and blood-stained and on top of the world. She doesn’t know how to be happy like this.

It’s a startling revelation, to realize she has little to trade. To realize that she has nothing that anyone wants, now. She has quick enough fingers that she could steal, a little bit here and a little bit there, something that might get a teenaged boy to do her math homework for her.

It’s almost too pathetic to bear. She’d rather continue to ignore her math homework, damn the house points and anyone who might care about them, because it’d be better than lowering herself. Submitting to this powerlessness. Or worse, trying to hold onto something better when it’s already gone.

She’s trying safety, she’s trying comfort. She’s seeing if she might like it, if after the last four years she’s earned the rest. But there’s a lot that comes with it that’s hard to swallow. She’s a cog in a machine, she’s just another citizen, she doesn’t make her own rules.]

It fucking sucks. [She says, because there’s no real reason to censor her thoughts. Because she hasn’t found a way to make this system work for her yet, and this pipsqueak of a kid has done it better than her.] But I’m glad to have run into you. [She smiles, then, because she won’t write him off. Just another scavenger, trying to survive, even in here. Get a little extra.

She respects it, and she still might change her mind about the math.]

[Trig just nods at her statement because he’s not sure what else to do. Unlike most people Trig didn’t really lose anything with the world ending, he gained. In the home he didn’t have much at all, material or otherwise. But now he had brothers and a best friend. He could do with a sense of purpose, that’s something he’s yet to find in the Colony. It’s why he’s back offering to do people’s homework. Might not get him much but it’d be something, he’d be doing something.

Really not something he wants to think about in front of someone though and thankfully he doesn’t have time to because Lex is talking again. For a moment Trig thinks that he misheard her but she’s smiling and he’s pretty certain he didn’t.] Yeah? I er mean me too. [She could be just messing around with him but he doesn’t think she is. Pretty certain she’s not. Maybe he didn’t make a deal to do her math homework but it’s one of the few interactions he’s had since coming to the Colony that hasn’t left him feeling like he should crawl under a rock. Or some other not great emotion.

In fact he’s feeling pretty good about this conversation. Not to the point he’s gonna stick around though. They’re near his room now and he’s got some homework to get done before his brothers come around looking for him.] I gotta go do homework. I’ll uh see ya around, Lex.

[Giving her a small wave Trig heads off to his room with a little bit of a smile on his face.]

I uh honestly don’t know. I want to. Sometimes it feels like a definite no. I’m never going to be a hunter, which feels like the most tangible way to contribute right now. I want to be a researcher. I want to find out the reason behind the infections and help figure out how to ease some of the effects of them. Or find out ways to move forward. Our resources will run out if we don’t do something to get us where we can produce again. I want to be a part of that. But my education stopped at thirteen and what we get now I uh I dunno that it counts for anything.

At some point it has to because all the elites will die and then what? Do they even have a plan for the future? Maybe they don’t even care about a future since they are all so old anyway. They had their lives before the world ended. But me and my brothers, Becca, all the other kids in our classes, this is our life. I refuse to believe that the rest of our lives is gonna be spent scrounging around for pieces of the old world, training for games, and classes that aren’t much more than time fillers.

[Off all the chores and duties assigned in the Colony, janitorial had to be one of the least exciting activities. That and maybe grounds keeping - thought at least it allowed for some people to get some fresh air and maybe interact with the horses at the stables. Janitorial simply meant a lot of time pushing around a cleaning cart, elbow grease and a lot of scrubbing. Looking at her fellow chore-mates that morning, Adrian knew most of them were less than enthused by the thought of scrubbing toilets and dusting all day. Really some people in the dorms could be down right filthy.

But unlike most Adrian could still find something positive about cleaning. Yes scrubbing toilets and unclogging shower drains practically made her turn a faint shade of green. There nothing more disgusting than wet hair balls. But there was something almost soothing about mopping. The swift movements up and down the hallway, punctuated by a quick rinse and drain of the mop then back to the almost sweeping like motions across the smooth hallway floor. 

Finishing off another section of floor, Adrian was just about to place a bright yellow plastic triangle warning of the wet floor when she heard someone approaching at speed but before she could get the words out they had already tracked mud onto her freshly - still wet - floor.]

“No wait! I just….mopped there…

[Trash duty, that’s what Trig had been doing for the past hour. Despite the fact that it was repetitive and smelly he didn’t mind it so much. The Colony was a little larger than the boys’ home but trash duty was much the same here as it was there. Plus it was way better than being stuck with laundry. Trig took his victories where he could really.

Except today had not been a victory. Laundry probably would have been better in fact. Everything that could have gone wrong had. The first three bags of garbage had each torn spilling their contents everywhere, including on Trig. That had taken extra time to clean up, especially with it happening three separate times.

As if having his shoes covered in garbage three times wasn’t enough he’d slipped on a slick section of grass and straight into mud. Now he was dirty, smelly, and late. If Trig believed in karma and luck he’d really have to wonder what he’d done to deserve his. Instead he was just focused on getting back to his dorm as quickly as possible to clean up and get to class.

At least he was till he spotted a familiar looking girl that he definitely did not want seeing him like this. Quickly Trig ducked into a door and ran down the hall.

“No wait! I just…mopped there…

Bugger. He froze for a moment, looking at the woman with the mop with wide eyes before looking behind him to make sure the blonde he was ducking hadn’t come in the door too, it would be his luck. Thankfully there was no one there and relieved Trig turned back to the woman in front of him.] Sorry….I…. [His breathing was laboured from his pace making talking difficult and he had no good reason to offer for tracking mud on her floor.] I...can uh...clean it.