Stowik was in a trance. He wasn’t even aware that his hand was shivering slightly, the pen in his grip drawing the same circle on the map over and over. Two droes had passed since he had discovered Dalrin’s lie. Rockhead’s hopper was in East, and those workers said something was going on in West. The soldier brought the food cart down there, and I didn’t see it in East. Alpha must be here. In the Cortex. In West. I know it. Underneath Stowik’s forearm lay a map of the Cortex, hand-drawn in his own shaky scrawl. His pen continued winding its way over and over one point on the map: the room where he knew his fellow Alpha Indianites were being held captive. By Dalrin. Get back at the Cortex. Get Alpha India out. Think, Stowik.
Stowik glanced to his right to rest his bloodshot eyes. His dilated pupils settled on his earpiece, which now lay dissassembled on his worktable. It was transmitting, always transmitting. Stowik knew that could only mean one thing. He’s following my movements. Does he know that I was in the Taylor Halls? No, if he knew that I had found out the truth, he’d have come for me already. Stowik hadn’t disabled the tracker in his earpiece yet—he knew he could use it. But how? He would reassemble the earpiece later.
Stowik turned away and studied the hopper blueprints next to him. No, that won’t work. He tilted his head as it dawned on him. It needs to be bigger. Much bigger. He immediately began drawing over the blueprints. Stowik paced his workshop, chin down and arms crossed tightly against his body. He would get the Alpha Indianites, and then what?
Stowik’s eyes darted back to the map. On one particular hallway, which was the site of a lot of Arksent soldier foot traffic, Stowik had drawn an X. Stowik scanned his map, looking for a way around the hallway. There was none. He’d just have to risk it. Risk the lives of him and forty-nine Alpha Indianites to leave the Cortex for good. We’ll have to blend in.
Stowik froze as an idea began taking shape. He made a quick note on his blueprints. There wasn’t enough light in the workshop for his thin form to cast a shadow on the rough floor. There wasn’t a limit to the chaos that he would bring to the Arksent.
We’re leaving the Cortex. One way or another. Stowik banished the dark thought from his mind. He spent his next hours in a mental sprint back and forth between the Cortex map and his blueprints, plotting his escape until the rising sun dragged a new droe behind it.
2123
Day 501: Entry 54: Neil Taylor: I thought I had something important to record but I already forgot what I was going to write.