Renegade (The Elysium Chronicles #1)(15)

When not working, Citizens are allowed to do whatever they wish—as long as they don’t violate the law. The Enforcers make sure of that. I know from Mother’s teaching that there are only two-dozen Enforcers to police the two thousand Citizens, but they have the eerie ability to appear at a moment’s notice, so they seem to be everywhere. Even as the Daughter of the People, I can’t be sure how many are watching me now.

Today the Square seems busier than usual, which makes sense since tomorrow is Festival, the day we celebrate the city’s founding. The Citizens are already preparing. I want to join them, but sadly, my Guards are accompanying me and I have no time for niceties. I continue through the Square without making eye contact with anyone, but despite that, the Citizens bow as I pass.

Just past the sushi bar, I turn right and walk through the tubular glass walkway that leads to the reception area of the Medical Sector.

I’ve always thought Dr. Friar’s receptionist is one of our prettier women. Even though all Citizens have blond hair and blue eyes, there is something exceptional about her—though not as exceptional as Mother, of course. I smile my thanks as she waves me through to Dr. Friar’s office.

I pause at his door and wonder, as I always do, why he chooses to have his office in a room without any windows. Surely, if he wanted it, he could just ask Mother. Given his position, she’d grant him anything he wanted.

Dr. Friar is waiting for me with his customary smile: one that both soothes and makes my hackles rise. I’m never sure why I have such strong, yet opposing, feelings about him. Today, however, I notice his teeth are stained a rust color. I know it’s only something he ate, but it gives me an uncomfortable feeling. He’s wearing his normal attire of a dove gray business suit with a bright white button-down shirt and maroon tie, his thinning blond hair smoothed back. His watery blue eyes are surrounded by thin lines, as is his thin mouth, probably because he smiles so much.

He’s sitting behind his rosewood, double pedestal desk, which has a glass piece over the top of the desk surface. It always looks precisely the same—a stapler, pen holder, intercom telephone, Slate, and dark brown leather blotter placed just perfectly. His clasped hands rest on the blotter.

“Well, now, Evelyn, are you prepared for our session today?” He gestures for me to sit.

I sit in the leather wingback chair in front of his desk. “Yes. It’s nice to have someone to talk with.”

Dr. Friar’s smile widens. He’s obviously pleased with me. “Very good. Do you know why Mother has asked for you to visit today?”

“No.”

He nods as if this is what he’s expecting, then stands and goes to a cabinet on the sidewall. It’s painted to resemble the weathered wood of the room’s walls, making it appear as if it’s only a set of built-in bookshelves instead of a freestanding cabinet. He opens a drawer and pulls a metal box from it before returning to sit on the corner of the desk.

“Mother tells me you’ve been tending to the Surface Dweller,” he says.

I eye the box. It is familiar to me, but I can’t quite place it. “Yes. He was quite sick.”

“And did you not think of the consequences?” He taps the box.

I move my eyes to meet his and then adjust them so I focus on the wall behind him. It’s impolite to stare a man in the eyes. “Consequences?”

His smile widens again, as if he knew that’s what I was going to answer. “You said yourself he’s sick. He could give you something. Do you not remember about the epidemic from your studies?”

“Oh.” My gaze travels back to the box, where Dr. Friar caresses the case as if it’s his pet.

“Besides, he’s only a Surface Dweller. Not worth wasting our precious resources on, or being waited on by the Daughter of the People. On Festival’s Eve of all days.”

This time I don’t say anything.

“What have you learned from him?” he prompts.

I take a deep steadying breath and play with the hem of my skirt. “Just that he entered through one of the emergency exits.”

“Did he tell you why he came?” He strokes the box and I swallow. Little rivulets of sweat slide down my back to pool at the base of my spine, though I don’t know why I should feel so uneasy.

“He said he stumbled upon a cave when he took refuge from the rain.”

There’s a shadow crawling over the box and I have no idea where it came from. I take a quick glance around the room, but there’s nothing I can see that’s causing it.

“I see.” Dr. Friar’s voice stays that happy, cheerful tone that should put me at ease, but it only makes the sweat all over my body turn to tiny little ice cubes. “And what did he say his designation was?”

I can’t stop staring at the box. Whatever’s in there, I don’t want to know what it is. I don’t even want to be in the same room with it. It makes my skin crawl. “N-no. H-he doesn’t have one.” I wet my lips, and Dr. Friar purses his. The move is so like Mother’s when she’s angry that it makes spiders of fear skitter along my nerves.

“None?” He looks disappointed. “Surely he must do something to bring money for his family?”

“He said they don’t get money from the Governess.”

Dr. Friar leans forward. “He did, did he?” He studies me carefully, his eyes taking a full journey from my face to my feet. He stops once on my chest, making me want to cross my arms, before continuing the journey. When he’s finished, he opens the box. Inside, nestled in black velvet, is an old-fashioned syringe.