******
Vincent awoke under the sheets of a body-width mattress. His pulse had steadied. The screams had long since faded. There was silence, and the trickle in him that had risen to a torrent was now dry.
Vincent sat up. On either side of him, beds were stacked in bunks, filling the room from end to end. The men and women in them, in their freshly cleaned white jumpsuits, were beginning to stir. Vincent looked down at himself. His clothes had been changed and cleaned as well, wiped of their previous red stains. But for the stubborn memory of the woman with the familiar face, he may have thought the previous night to have been a dream.
Vincent rose from the bed and started for the exit, surprised to feel his legs rather steady beneath him. When he was outside, he found himself sandwiched in between two buildings, and nearly at the dome’s edge. Deeper into the dome was his only option. He walked until the buildings on either side of him opened up into a space more familiar: the outer edge of a wide circle of dark, block-shaped factories. He turned around. Behind him was a series of long, rectangular buildings only one story high, none with windows, all with their shorter ends facing the center of the dome. For as far as Vincent could see, the buildings continued one after another around the dome’s perimeter, each, presumably, housing the same sort of barracks he had awoken in.
He continued forward, down the middle of the factories straight ahead. The air was cooler here, shaded and acting like a tunnel for the wind. As he walked, he shrank into the clothes that had been given to him, his head bent against the chill. He looked up only when the tunnel had opened and the barracks were barely visible at his back. He had walked into something of a courtyard, a wide circular region in the dome’s very center, around which the factories – four others in addition to the two he was between – stood as sentries. The circle was oddly empty, no structure or markings to indicate it, only empty ground.
Vincent started around the edge of the space to the mouth of the factory next to him. It looked identical to the all the others: several stories high, square and plain, and with only a handful of windows to let in the artificial light. It was too dim to make out, but atop the building’s entrance, there seemed to be an inscription. Even in clear light, Vincent doubted he could have read it – the words appeared to have been painted over.
“Good morning, Vincent.”
John and what looked like a group of Goodwin’s officers came into view as Vincent rounded the corner. John excused himself and broke off, crossing over to him.
“Did you just wake up?”
Vincent nodded. “But I don’t remember going to bed.” He glanced up at the factory. “What happened last night?”
John motioned to the dome at large, as if that explained things. “We did it,” he said. “We overran them. The whole place is ours.”
He said it proudly, but Vincent could hear a bit of confusion in his voice as well.
“What about this?” said Vincent, looking down at his jumpsuit. “I don’t remember changing.”
John shrugged, wearing a slight frown. “I’m not really sure,” he said. “Goodwin must have had one of the other captains organize a cleaning effort.” He flicked his head in the direction of the group of men next to the factory entrance. “We’re preparing the plans for the Seclusion attack,” he said. “Care to sit in?”
Vincent looked over at the group. They had stopped their conversation – their gazes were trained on him. “I’m all right,” he said. He turned back to John. “Where’s Jessica?”
John looked around, as if scanning for her. “I just saw her,” he said. “She slept in the factory with some of the others.”
Vincent raised an eyebrow. “She slept in the factory?”
John shrugged. “She’s fine,” he said. He glanced back at Goodwin’s officers. “I should get back. Try this factory first.” He patted Vincent on the arm, then returned to the group. Pausing for a moment, Vincent followed at a slight diagonal, starting for the doors they had crammed through the night before. He passed through them without the jostling of shoulders this time, and into the factory. The space was larger than he remembered. Immense, industrial-grade conveyers split the factory in half, with different stations along its edges. Perched on its surface were man-sized, cylindrical chunks of metal with rounded, cone-shaped tips and triangular fins on the opposite end. The factory floor was as clean as Vincent’s white jumpsuit. Not a trace remained of what had transpired the evening before.
“Vincent?”
He turned around. Jessica was seated against the wall, with several others, some ways off. She looked like she had just woken up.
“I was about to come looking for you,” she said.
Vincent walked over to her. She didn’t stand to greet him. Instead, she laid her head back against the wall behind her.
“Are you ok?” asked Vincent.
Jessica nodded. But as she looked around, she wore the same, troubled expression John had. “I don’t remember what happened last night.”
When she said it, a feeling of unease began to settle deep in Vincent’s stomach.
“Do you?” she asked.
“I remember enough of it,” said Vincent. He scanned the people next to Jessica along the wall. Several of them were beginning to awaken. “Let’s go somewhere.” He reached down and took her by the hand. She felt like deadweight as he pulled her up.
“I’m tired,” she said. “Why can’t we stay here?”
“Just trust me,” he said back. He pulled her to her feet. She didn’t resist – or couldn’t resist, from fatigue – and allowed him to pull her farther away down the wall. When they came upon a sturdy looking door, Vincent pulled it open and ushered them inside.
“Vincent what’s wrong?” said Jessica. Her grogginess was starting to clear now. “Did something happen?”
“I think so,” said Vincent. “I don’t know.” He stopped, glancing at the door they had just come through to make sure it was closed. “Do you remember any of last night at all?” he asked.
Jessica frowned. “I remember the transport,” she said. “I remember running in with everyone else. The gunshots. The rest is blurry. I just remember being so angry.” She paused, looking down. “I don’t remember going to sleep.”
“Neither do I,” said Vincent. He looked around to make sure they were alone. “I remember some things, though. I remember attacking the privacy officers. With the rest.” He hesitated, focusing on the memory, determined not to let it slip away. “But some of the people from last night,” he continued, “some of the privacy officers…they seemed different. They seemed afraid.”
Jessica was squinting at him. Her cheeks were sucked into her mouth. “I don’t remember that,” she said. Vincent took a deep breath. He hadn’t wanted to say anything about this – he knew what she would say back to him – but he didn’t have a choice now.
“I recognized one of them,” said Vincent. He thought back to the woman with the heart-shaped face. “It was a woman. She looked like Jim’s wife, from Hux. I can’t remember her name.”
“Tina?” asked Jessica.
Vincent nodded. The name hit him with the force of memory. Real, concrete memory.
“But why would she be in a Newsight factory?” said Jessica. “Jim said she was in quarantine.”
“I know,” said Vincent. “I don’t know why she would be here, but she was. I’m sure of it.” He said it firmly, as if to convince himself as well as Jessica.
Jessica was frowning. She looked unconvinced. “If there were people here that weren’t Privacy Officers,” she said, “then why would we have attacked? Why would we not have rescued them?”
Vincent started to speak, then breathed out instead. “I don’t know,” he said. “I just think we should be careful. Something about this just…”
He trailed off when a hoarse, measured breathing rose up inside of him. The breathing wasn’t his own – it was coming from his Lenses.
“Fellow brothers and sisters of the Order
.”
It was Goodwin’s voice, and it was inside Vincent’s head. By the look of confusion on Jessica’s face, it was inside hers as well.
“You will assemble in the center of the dome,” said Goodwin. “Now.”
With that, the voice went silent. It was the same, undeniable, irresistible command as usual.
Next to them, the door slid open.
“Hello.” A man – Vincent recognized him to be one of Goodwin’s officers – had stepped through. “We are rounding people up,” he said, in a hard, iron voice. “Everyone is meeting in the center.”
Jessica nodded and started forward, but Vincent stayed where he was.
“Is there a problem?” the man asked.
“How did you know we were here?” asked Vincent.
“Vincent come on,” said Jessica. “He’s just trying to help.”
“How did you know?” repeated Vincent. He was looking up at the man.
“Someone saw you go this way,” the man replied. His tone was level, just shy of robotic. “Is there something wrong?”
Vincent held the man’s gaze. Jessica watched them both, looking nervous.
“No, sir,” said Vincent. He emphasized the second word. The man didn’t seem to notice, or care. He motioned them to the door.
Vincent followed Jessica back onto the factory floor and next to the conveyer belt. Behind them, the man peeled off, presumably to round up the rest of the stragglers.
“What are you doing?” hissed Jessica when the man was out of earshot. “Are you trying to get us in trouble?”
Vincent glanced back at the man. “He wasn’t here when we went into the hall. And no one else saw us.”
Jessica shook her head, exasperated. “You’re being ridiculous, Vincent. Come on.” She took off for the exit. Vincent followed, more slowly, behind.
By the time they reached the eerily open space in the dome’s center, most of the others were already there. Vincent walked up behind Jessica, who had arrived several steps before him. They had passed the walk in silence.
“Brothers and sisters!”
Goodwin’s voice rang out from somewhere in the circle’s center. Vincent craned his neck, and he saw the man climbing up on some sort of stool, to be higher.
“Brothers and sisters,” he repeated. “We have claimed the Newsight factory.”
There was a cheer of approval, but the rigor of the night before was nowhere present.
“As we speak,” Goodwin continued, “our engineers are preparing the fighters for attack. We will fly on the Seclusion at dusk.”
Another cheer. This one was a bit louder, but there was no beating of chests, no veins protruding from necks.
“However,” said Goodwin. “There is first the issue of last night’s attack.”
Vincent’s ears perked up at this.
“It has been reported,” continued Goodwin, “that many of you are having trouble remembering it.”
Around them, various heads began to nod.
“This is no cause for alarm,” said Goodwin. “I have consulted our brothers and sisters who spent time in the enemy camp, in the Newsight Corporation, and it is their belief that this memory obstruction was caused by the Lenses.”
A murmur coursed through the crowd, an affirming one, as if they had already known. Vincent continued to stare forward, frowning.
“It was a reaction to our darkeners,” said Goodwin. “Trauma, it seems, is the triggering action. And last night, though victorious, was surely traumatic.”
Goodwin’s tone was somber and his head was tilted downward, as if looking out at them through imaginary eyes, overtop imaginary spectacles.
“There will be more of this trauma at dusk,” he continued, “in the Seclusion. It is imperative, however, that you remember this attack, for it is one you will tell your children about, and they their children.”
Another murmur of approval – still no wild yells and applause.
“For this reason, our Newsight knowledgeable colleagues have been working without rest to determine a fix for this problem, and that is exactly what they have done. For those of you who experienced an impairment to your memory, please follow my officers to the facility we have erected in factory six. There, your Lenses can receive what little maintenance they require.”
He nodded to them, then stepped down off his riser. The crowd began to funnel itself in the direction he had pointed. Vincent stayed where he was.
“Jessica.”
She looked over her shoulder. She had already started forward with the crowd. “Aren’t you coming?” she asked.
“No,” said Vincent. “And I don’t think you should either.”
Jessica stopped. People jostled by her to get around. “Why not?” she said. “You were just talking about this.”
“I know,” said Vincent. “But didn’t you hear him? He said they’re going to do maintenance.”
Jessica rolled her eyes, sighing. “He obviously didn’t mean that kind,” she said. “Just come on. Don’t you want to remember tonight?”
Vincent looked toward the center, where Goodwin had just disappeared. “I’m going to stay,” he said, suddenly sure. “I can’t make you, but I really think you should do the same.”
Jessica hesitated there, her eyes scanning the crowd of men and women walking by them. “I can’t,” she said after a pause. “I want to remember seeing my dad again.” She gave a weak, sympathizing look, then let herself be swept away by the mob.
Vincent breathed out as he watched the last of them start off in the same direction. Near the center, where Goodwin had just been, the man who had found them in the hallway was standing with the rest of Goodwin’s officers. His eyes were on Vincent. Vincent felt a chill shoot down his spine for no real reason. He looked away from the man, then started, after the crowd, toward factory six.