Dollhouse AU: "Sensory [re:]Generation", 1/3 (cont)
Beginning and story information here
*
“We’ll be traveling awhile. It’s a long ways to where we’re going,” Dominic said. “Longer, now that it has to be on foot.”
This last sentence was punctuated with a meaningful glare in Topher’s direction.
Normally Topher would have given a response to that, something snippy, but he let it go. He was focusing on not having a nervous breakdown.
His best bet, he’d decided, was to not think about what was happening. Not let it sink in.
He didn’t have much useful to pack. He brought plenty of sweaters and hooded shirts anyway, thinking maybe he could layer them. Dominic went around his apartment gathering up what few supplies he deemed actually valuable.
Along with the one he wore, Topher had two extra masks. Each was supposed to last about three days.
Dominic told him he should save them, that the Atmo was even worse once they got away from cities. Topher knew he should probably listen. But he couldn’t: stepping out the door was hard enough, doing it without a mask was an impossibility. He just couldn’t.
“How are we even getting out, anyway?” he asked.
Dominic made a careless sound. “Oh, that. Don’t worry.”
“But, I don’t have a license-”
“Those idiots and I all snuck in easy enough, remember? The security on most cities is a joke once you know where the weak spots are. And getting out is even easier than coming in.”
“How?”
“There are tunnels.”
“Tunnels…” Topher balked. “A sewer? Are you taking me through a sewer?”
“Former sewer,” Dominic stressed. “Nothing left now but miles of huge, rusted pipeline.”
“And, how is that supposed to make me feel better, exactly?”
Dominic’s eyes rolled upward, scowling. He didn’t give Topher any other response.
He was right though. Even as Topher feared security drones would swarm down on them at every moment, they made it to the abandoned tunnel, through it and then out, without any incident whatsoever.
Going through the city was hard enough. And then there were the old sewers, which were worse but not so bad.
But then, they were outside.
Not just “outside”, like under the protective filters of the city or in one of its shielded walkways; a concept Topher could wrap his mind around, even if he hadn’t experienced it much. Outside - no buildings, no technology, no sign of civilization, nothing for miles and miles.
Everything smelled foreign and unwelcoming, as if the land itself was hostile to intrusion. Topher had seen some barren spaces before in his virtu-sims: deserts, and arctic wastes. This wasn’t like that.
There were stringy clumps of weeds, patches of hard gray earth over which the wind moaned. And that was it. There was nothing more.
Topher made it about an hour. After that, it was too much. He fell to his side in the dirt, quaking hands fumbling ineffectively, Dominic removing his mask just in time for him to vomit.
Topher expected Dominic to yell at him in aggravation, to drag him bodily across the ground when he couldn’t get up himself.
And he did. For about thirty feet to the nearest cover, a jagged outcropping of rock.
Once they were secure in the hiding place Dominic built a fire, got out blankets and water. He sat a short distance away and said nothing, waiting for Topher to collect himself.
Dominic thought he was weak; Topher could tell. But he also seemed to be making an effort not to hold it against him.
In return, Topher tried not to complain. Much.
They traveled by night. There weren’t options for anyone out there, though in their case the lighter hours of twilight and just before dawn were lost to them as well.
From what he’d read Topher knew he’d last a few hours beneath the sun’s intensity, before he succumbed to the heat, before his skin started to blister and burn.
Dominic would make it much less than that.
They didn’t really talk. Dominic was clearly the strong silent type, and Topher wasn’t used to talking to anyone. Let alone a ‘sucker. He’d watch Dominic with an intimidated stare, eyes darting away when it looked like he’d be caught.
He was nervous, but also kind of fascinated. After several days he timidly asked Dominic what he planned to do about “food”.
He was startled when Dominic gave a faint smile. Like he thought Topher’s worry was funny.
“I don’t have to feed that often, actually. Not like you’d think. I can go for months between drinking blood, if I really have to.” His brow furrowed. “Though that can get…annoying.”
His said this last word like what he really meant was something else.
Topher tried to imagine what it would feel like to be hungry, really hungry for something, and found that he couldn’t. But he figured “annoying” was probably good understatement for it, whatever it was.
About a week after Topher’s last breathing mask ran out it finally occurred to him to ask the obvious question.
“Where are we going?”
Dominic hesitated in the act of pulling his coat back on. Then he straightened up, glancing at Topher expressionlessly over his shoulder.
“The Orphanarium.”
Topher stumbled. The strap of his pack weighted heavily in his hand, his palms rapidly becoming coated with cold sweat.
But he had nothing better to do than keep following Dominic, so he kept going.
*
The Orphanarium was where you went to forget.
Not just to forget the bad - the Orphanarium was where you went to forget yourself.
Everyone knew it. To step inside the building was to give up the past, in exchange for an existence of pure bliss.
They took care of you. Life at the Orphanarium was simple: it was one long unending party, the music filling you up and carrying you away. All they ever did there was listen to it and dance, sleeping a little when they tired, and then starting all over again. They never wanted for anything. They always smiled.
At the door they put a barcode on the back of your neck so they could monitor you, track you inside. At the same time they did something else: taking away your ability to remember, to worry, and turning on the part that left you relaxed and carefree.
No one ever left the Orphanarium. But then, who would want to?
It was a testament to what they offered, that they made no secret of what they did - and people still showed up there by the dozens, by the hundreds, to join the thousands already inside.
“Is that it?”
Topher squinted to make out the lines of the building in the dark. It sat in the middle of the desert, wide and long but still not nearly as big as he’d expected. It was flat and sort of rounded, like a squashed bowl upside down or a turtle half-buried in the sand.
Dominic caught the look on his face. “The majority of the complex is underground. It’s far more secure that way: makes it easier to guard the innocents inside.” He finished that last sentence with a sneer.
“Oh.” Topher nodded. “Yeah, I guess that does make sense.”
Dominic didn’t say anything else. He moved forward in quick, strong strides. There was a twisting knot in Topher’s stomach as he struggled to keep up.
Like everyone else in the world, for Topher the Orphanarium held a sense of allure, of excitement, of fascination.
But it was an understatement to say he felt a bit apprehensive, at Dominic’s apparent plan to walk right up to the door.
“So we’ll be safe from the Revolutionaries here?” Topher began, puffing around the exertion of trying to speak and match Dominic’s pace at the same time.
“I didn’t say that,” Dominic said sharply. “I know better than to promise there’s any place they can’t get into if they put their minds to it.” He glanced up. “But you’ll be a lot safer here than in any city. This place is well-fortified.”
“So, ah, if it’s so sturdy, how is it exactly that you’re planning on getting us in?” Topher questioned. “Because I like my brain. I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s a pretty nice one. And I can’t help feeling like getting some of the neurons turned off might significantly impact its market value.” His voice wavered. “I’m not really interested in ending up a bliss-zombie.”
“Well, that puts you a solid notch toward ‘likeable’ in my book,” Dominic observed sardonically. “But don’t worry. They aren’t the only ones here.” He pointed.
“Much lesser-known fact about the Orphanarium: there’s more than one door. The back one is for us.”
“‘Us’?” Topher blinked, and then his eyes widened. “You mean, people like you.” He gaped with surprise. “They let lee…er, ‘suckers…in?”
“You kidding?” Dominic gave a tight smile, a decidedly unhappy one. “We come here in droves. Building full of happy, healthy people who won’t say ‘no’.”
Topher’s skin crawled. “But ‘suckers aren’t allowed in residential areas!”
“This is the Orphanarium. They make their own rules here.” Dominic’s voice was toneless. “No one has authority here - except the ultimate one. The person in charge.”
Topher didn’t have to ask who he was talking about, of course.
“Keep your head down,” Dominic advised, tugging him hard by the arm toward an alcove, a hidden entrance that Topher’s eyes had glided right over at first. “And don’t speak.”
Topher didn’t have to be told twice. He hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood over his eyes.
Two men framed the door. They wore the uniform of Orphanarium security Topher had seen in the recordings, all black with a short collar made of silver metal on their coats. They had the build too, both of them tall, burly and looming.
But it was hard to miss how both grew visibly uneasy as Dominic approached. How they flinched ever so minutely when he raised his head so they could get a good look at his eyes.
One of them began, “Before we let you in, we have to make sure you know to abide by the rules-”
“I’ve been here before,” Dominic cut him off curtly.
The men exchanged a glance; the one who’d spoke nodded, and the other punched in a code. The door slid open.
Topher didn’t think he breathed out fully until they were inside and alone.
“Topher,” Dominic said.
“Hnnn?”
“You’re clinging to my arm.”
Topher looked at where all his fingers had somehow wound up wrapped around Dominic’s bicep, holding on for dear life. “Oh! So I am.” He quickly let go, cringing beneath Dominic’s disapproving glare.
Dominic glowered at him a moment longer, probably just on principle, before he started walking again. “Come on, this way.”
The whole building vibrated with the music. Even in the honeycombed maze of corridors deep underground Dominic led him to (separate quarters for the ‘suckers, he assumed) Topher could hear it, could feel it practically, throbbing in his bloodstream, begging him to come and join in.
Even as he looked around the room Dominic had claimed as their quarters, Topher could feel his body swaying faintly to the distant thrum. It called to him, beseeching.
Dominic glanced up, noticing. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he frowned, but if Topher was waiting for another snapped order, a command to forget about it and keep his head clear, he didn’t get it.
Instead, Dominic said gruffly, “Come here.”
“What? Why?” Topher asked suspiciously, but his feet were automatically moving over to Dominic anyway. It was sort of a survival instinct by now.
“You want to go up there, don’t you? Have fun with the other mindless, helpless children?” Dominic scoffed. “You’ll fit right in. Well, almost.”
Topher jolted with surprise when he reached out, brushing the hair from the back of Topher’s neck.
“Hold still,” Dominic told him. Using a thin brush he started painting something on his skin.
Topher stood completely still, breathing shallowly. The paint was cool after the fevered heat of the desert and all that walking.
Dominic’s fingers were cool too, the pads of his skin hardened; not calloused, exactly, but not nearly as soft as Topher’s own. He could feel the occasional breath of air when Dominic exhaled, working on whatever he was doing with intent, single-minded focus. Something felt light and strange in Topher’s stomach, and his pulse fluttered in his throat.
After a minute Dominic drew his hand away, the back of his knuckles momentarily grazing the nape of Topher’s hair. For some reason he couldn’t understand Topher felt a passing spasm of disappointment.
It was only once he’d shook off the clouds and thought about what he’d felt Dominic doing that he realized: he’d painted a fake barcode on his neck.
“Now you can join the other kids at the party.” Dominic’s voice lowered to a warning. “There are only three kinds of human allowed here: donors, the mindless recruits, and the Orphanarium staff. Don’t get caught.”
Topher nodded, understanding. “Aren’t ‘suckers humans too, though?” he had to point out, meekly.
Dominic smirked derisively. “Depends on who you ask.” He went and sat down on the bed, as good as ignoring Topher already. He exhaled, sighing. “Most other vampires don’t think so, either.”
Topher tugged at his sleeve. “Why don’t you like being called a ‘sucker, anyway?” he asked, finally unable to resist his curiosity. “What’s your objection to the term?”
Dominic frowned. “You know what that word means, don’t you? Originally?”
“It’s just short for ‘bloodsucker’, right?” Topher shrugged.
“Well, yeah. But I meant before that. Before the operation, before they came up with the process that made people like us, people used to call each other ‘suckers’ and mean something else entirely.”
“They did?” Topher was surprised. “What?”
Dominic scowled at the floor. “It meant ‘loser’, essentially,” he said, his voice closed-off. With heavy sarcasm he continued, “Maybe you can get now why I don’t really like being called that to my face?”
Oops. “I’ll try not to use it anymore, from now on,” Topher promised quietly.
Dominic closed his eyes. “I don’t care what you do,” he said to Topher, and lay down on the bed.
Topher’s fingers twitched into fists, a burst of anger flaring. Without another word he turned around and left.
It wasn’t hard to find his way. All he had to do was follow the sound.
He took one step out, entering the Orphanarium proper. And then he froze, immediately overwhelmed.
The Orphanarium was the world’s biggest concert hall. The stage was about halfway between floor and ceiling, a tiered dais. There were scattered balconies, wide winding staircases, whole stretches of space with no purpose but to allow as many people as possible room to stand at once. The only illumination came from the neon lights and flashbulbs of the stage, the high overhead glow of the millions of flickering lamplights set into the domed ceiling like gems.
And everywhere Topher looked it was wall to wall with people. People dancing.
The band played alone, unaccompanied by words, just them and the rhythm and the power of their instruments as their sound beat through the crowd like one universal pulse. The dancers were a moving sea of swaying limbs and rotating bodies - the beat was fast, and they were just as fast. They had no choice but to keep up. It held them.
Their eyes were dull, their smiles mindless, but their faces were awake, in rapture from the joy of the music and an existence where this was all there was. No fears, no thoughts, just themselves and the song.
And in that moment, seeing them there, feeling almost as free and as light as they did, it was hard for Topher to see any reason not to join them.
He managed to make his way through the throng up the stairs, to the edge of one of the balconies. He listened to the music pounding in his ears. He watched the crowd, mesmerized.
“Hi.”
He whirled, startled. Standing right next to him was one of the masses: a girl, a young woman about his age. His first thought was the fear he’d been found out, but she just smiled at him.
“Hi,” she said again. “I’m Kilo.”
“I’m…uh, Chris,” he offered, hoping it sounded like one of their names.
“Hi, Chris.” There was an emptiness in her eyes but they still sparkled, and her smile was welcoming. She was pretty. “Are you new?”
“Yeah.”
Topher wasn’t sure what was happening but he felt more alive than he ever had. The power of the Orphanarium: where you only had one name, because that was all you needed. Where you could relax, because you were being taken care of for the rest of your life.
Kilo beamed. Topher thought she looked kind of like Ivy. The faces weren’t alike but she had the same petite frame, the same wavy black hair, the same dark almond-shaped eyes.
“Would you like to dance?” she asked him.
“Sure.” He put out his hand, and let Kilo lead him out onto the floor.
Topher supposed he wasn’t much of a dancer. Actually, no: he wasn’t a dancer, period. Self-defensively he could attribute it to how he’d never had much practice, but if he were being fully honest he’d suppose he just had no natural rhythm.
But it didn’t matter, there. No one was looking, no one cared, and all you had to do was move. Jump up and down in place, wave your fists in the air.
Bodies pressed against Topher from all sides. In front of him Kilo occasionally stretched her hands out, fingers touching his.
Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much. His muscles were starting to feel the exertion of all this movement but he wasn’t tired, the adrenaline rush keeping him awake. He’d forgotten how to think, forgotten everything.
Then suddenly, the beat changed. A confused ripple went through the crowd. The music at the Orphanarium never stopped, but it had just shifted to the closest thing it ever came to slow: a repetitive synthesizer track playing on repeat.
The lights on the stage dimmed. The band was changing positions. The confusion of the crowd quickly built to excitement. Murmuring they all started pushing forward, trying to get close.
Topher’s heart began to beat faster and faster as he realized what was happening.
Like every other soul there he stared at the stage as the central dais rose up, as the Voice appeared.
He heard her before he saw her. The lights were still on low, the stage awash in a subterranean glimmer that revealed nothing but shadows. She hummed at him, at them all, out of the dark, starting with a single note and building as she sang the opening line of one of her signature songs, a piece that was not too old but not too new.
The spotlights exploded. The flashes went off, the drums pounded, the guitar shrieked. Her voice rose above the roar of approval. Topher gazed up at her wide-eyed, spellbound, beholding the legend in person for the first time.
Her skin was pale white porcelain reflecting back neon. Black fabric rippled across her body like water, dark tresses framing her shoulders and face. Even from the distance Topher could see the color of her eyes beside her smoky makeup, a deep and piercing emerald green.
She sang louder, and smiled. The thousands of people watching seemed to sigh with ecstasy.
When she smiled like that, it was easy to see why she ruled there. It was easy to see why they listened to her all over the world, why they came from everywhere to see her. Why no one ever wanted to leave.
Topher stood there frozen in place and watched her on the stage as all around him the crowd softly chanted her name, awe-filled, like a prayer, faintly discernable beneath the rumble of the music:
“DeWitt…DeWitt…DeWitt…DeWitt…”
*
“We’ll be traveling awhile. It’s a long ways to where we’re going,” Dominic said. “Longer, now that it has to be on foot.”
This last sentence was punctuated with a meaningful glare in Topher’s direction.
Normally Topher would have given a response to that, something snippy, but he let it go. He was focusing on not having a nervous breakdown.
His best bet, he’d decided, was to not think about what was happening. Not let it sink in.
He didn’t have much useful to pack. He brought plenty of sweaters and hooded shirts anyway, thinking maybe he could layer them. Dominic went around his apartment gathering up what few supplies he deemed actually valuable.
Along with the one he wore, Topher had two extra masks. Each was supposed to last about three days.
Dominic told him he should save them, that the Atmo was even worse once they got away from cities. Topher knew he should probably listen. But he couldn’t: stepping out the door was hard enough, doing it without a mask was an impossibility. He just couldn’t.
“How are we even getting out, anyway?” he asked.
Dominic made a careless sound. “Oh, that. Don’t worry.”
“But, I don’t have a license-”
“Those idiots and I all snuck in easy enough, remember? The security on most cities is a joke once you know where the weak spots are. And getting out is even easier than coming in.”
“How?”
“There are tunnels.”
“Tunnels…” Topher balked. “A sewer? Are you taking me through a sewer?”
“Former sewer,” Dominic stressed. “Nothing left now but miles of huge, rusted pipeline.”
“And, how is that supposed to make me feel better, exactly?”
Dominic’s eyes rolled upward, scowling. He didn’t give Topher any other response.
He was right though. Even as Topher feared security drones would swarm down on them at every moment, they made it to the abandoned tunnel, through it and then out, without any incident whatsoever.
Going through the city was hard enough. And then there were the old sewers, which were worse but not so bad.
But then, they were outside.
Not just “outside”, like under the protective filters of the city or in one of its shielded walkways; a concept Topher could wrap his mind around, even if he hadn’t experienced it much. Outside - no buildings, no technology, no sign of civilization, nothing for miles and miles.
Everything smelled foreign and unwelcoming, as if the land itself was hostile to intrusion. Topher had seen some barren spaces before in his virtu-sims: deserts, and arctic wastes. This wasn’t like that.
There were stringy clumps of weeds, patches of hard gray earth over which the wind moaned. And that was it. There was nothing more.
Topher made it about an hour. After that, it was too much. He fell to his side in the dirt, quaking hands fumbling ineffectively, Dominic removing his mask just in time for him to vomit.
Topher expected Dominic to yell at him in aggravation, to drag him bodily across the ground when he couldn’t get up himself.
And he did. For about thirty feet to the nearest cover, a jagged outcropping of rock.
Once they were secure in the hiding place Dominic built a fire, got out blankets and water. He sat a short distance away and said nothing, waiting for Topher to collect himself.
Dominic thought he was weak; Topher could tell. But he also seemed to be making an effort not to hold it against him.
In return, Topher tried not to complain. Much.
They traveled by night. There weren’t options for anyone out there, though in their case the lighter hours of twilight and just before dawn were lost to them as well.
From what he’d read Topher knew he’d last a few hours beneath the sun’s intensity, before he succumbed to the heat, before his skin started to blister and burn.
Dominic would make it much less than that.
They didn’t really talk. Dominic was clearly the strong silent type, and Topher wasn’t used to talking to anyone. Let alone a ‘sucker. He’d watch Dominic with an intimidated stare, eyes darting away when it looked like he’d be caught.
He was nervous, but also kind of fascinated. After several days he timidly asked Dominic what he planned to do about “food”.
He was startled when Dominic gave a faint smile. Like he thought Topher’s worry was funny.
“I don’t have to feed that often, actually. Not like you’d think. I can go for months between drinking blood, if I really have to.” His brow furrowed. “Though that can get…annoying.”
His said this last word like what he really meant was something else.
Topher tried to imagine what it would feel like to be hungry, really hungry for something, and found that he couldn’t. But he figured “annoying” was probably good understatement for it, whatever it was.
About a week after Topher’s last breathing mask ran out it finally occurred to him to ask the obvious question.
“Where are we going?”
Dominic hesitated in the act of pulling his coat back on. Then he straightened up, glancing at Topher expressionlessly over his shoulder.
“The Orphanarium.”
Topher stumbled. The strap of his pack weighted heavily in his hand, his palms rapidly becoming coated with cold sweat.
But he had nothing better to do than keep following Dominic, so he kept going.
*
The Orphanarium was where you went to forget.
Not just to forget the bad - the Orphanarium was where you went to forget yourself.
Everyone knew it. To step inside the building was to give up the past, in exchange for an existence of pure bliss.
They took care of you. Life at the Orphanarium was simple: it was one long unending party, the music filling you up and carrying you away. All they ever did there was listen to it and dance, sleeping a little when they tired, and then starting all over again. They never wanted for anything. They always smiled.
At the door they put a barcode on the back of your neck so they could monitor you, track you inside. At the same time they did something else: taking away your ability to remember, to worry, and turning on the part that left you relaxed and carefree.
No one ever left the Orphanarium. But then, who would want to?
It was a testament to what they offered, that they made no secret of what they did - and people still showed up there by the dozens, by the hundreds, to join the thousands already inside.
“Is that it?”
Topher squinted to make out the lines of the building in the dark. It sat in the middle of the desert, wide and long but still not nearly as big as he’d expected. It was flat and sort of rounded, like a squashed bowl upside down or a turtle half-buried in the sand.
Dominic caught the look on his face. “The majority of the complex is underground. It’s far more secure that way: makes it easier to guard the innocents inside.” He finished that last sentence with a sneer.
“Oh.” Topher nodded. “Yeah, I guess that does make sense.”
Dominic didn’t say anything else. He moved forward in quick, strong strides. There was a twisting knot in Topher’s stomach as he struggled to keep up.
Like everyone else in the world, for Topher the Orphanarium held a sense of allure, of excitement, of fascination.
But it was an understatement to say he felt a bit apprehensive, at Dominic’s apparent plan to walk right up to the door.
“So we’ll be safe from the Revolutionaries here?” Topher began, puffing around the exertion of trying to speak and match Dominic’s pace at the same time.
“I didn’t say that,” Dominic said sharply. “I know better than to promise there’s any place they can’t get into if they put their minds to it.” He glanced up. “But you’ll be a lot safer here than in any city. This place is well-fortified.”
“So, ah, if it’s so sturdy, how is it exactly that you’re planning on getting us in?” Topher questioned. “Because I like my brain. I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, it’s a pretty nice one. And I can’t help feeling like getting some of the neurons turned off might significantly impact its market value.” His voice wavered. “I’m not really interested in ending up a bliss-zombie.”
“Well, that puts you a solid notch toward ‘likeable’ in my book,” Dominic observed sardonically. “But don’t worry. They aren’t the only ones here.” He pointed.
“Much lesser-known fact about the Orphanarium: there’s more than one door. The back one is for us.”
“‘Us’?” Topher blinked, and then his eyes widened. “You mean, people like you.” He gaped with surprise. “They let lee…er, ‘suckers…in?”
“You kidding?” Dominic gave a tight smile, a decidedly unhappy one. “We come here in droves. Building full of happy, healthy people who won’t say ‘no’.”
Topher’s skin crawled. “But ‘suckers aren’t allowed in residential areas!”
“This is the Orphanarium. They make their own rules here.” Dominic’s voice was toneless. “No one has authority here - except the ultimate one. The person in charge.”
Topher didn’t have to ask who he was talking about, of course.
“Keep your head down,” Dominic advised, tugging him hard by the arm toward an alcove, a hidden entrance that Topher’s eyes had glided right over at first. “And don’t speak.”
Topher didn’t have to be told twice. He hunched his shoulders and pulled his hood over his eyes.
Two men framed the door. They wore the uniform of Orphanarium security Topher had seen in the recordings, all black with a short collar made of silver metal on their coats. They had the build too, both of them tall, burly and looming.
But it was hard to miss how both grew visibly uneasy as Dominic approached. How they flinched ever so minutely when he raised his head so they could get a good look at his eyes.
One of them began, “Before we let you in, we have to make sure you know to abide by the rules-”
“I’ve been here before,” Dominic cut him off curtly.
The men exchanged a glance; the one who’d spoke nodded, and the other punched in a code. The door slid open.
Topher didn’t think he breathed out fully until they were inside and alone.
“Topher,” Dominic said.
“Hnnn?”
“You’re clinging to my arm.”
Topher looked at where all his fingers had somehow wound up wrapped around Dominic’s bicep, holding on for dear life. “Oh! So I am.” He quickly let go, cringing beneath Dominic’s disapproving glare.
Dominic glowered at him a moment longer, probably just on principle, before he started walking again. “Come on, this way.”
The whole building vibrated with the music. Even in the honeycombed maze of corridors deep underground Dominic led him to (separate quarters for the ‘suckers, he assumed) Topher could hear it, could feel it practically, throbbing in his bloodstream, begging him to come and join in.
Even as he looked around the room Dominic had claimed as their quarters, Topher could feel his body swaying faintly to the distant thrum. It called to him, beseeching.
Dominic glanced up, noticing. His eyes narrowed slightly, and he frowned, but if Topher was waiting for another snapped order, a command to forget about it and keep his head clear, he didn’t get it.
Instead, Dominic said gruffly, “Come here.”
“What? Why?” Topher asked suspiciously, but his feet were automatically moving over to Dominic anyway. It was sort of a survival instinct by now.
“You want to go up there, don’t you? Have fun with the other mindless, helpless children?” Dominic scoffed. “You’ll fit right in. Well, almost.”
Topher jolted with surprise when he reached out, brushing the hair from the back of Topher’s neck.
“Hold still,” Dominic told him. Using a thin brush he started painting something on his skin.
Topher stood completely still, breathing shallowly. The paint was cool after the fevered heat of the desert and all that walking.
Dominic’s fingers were cool too, the pads of his skin hardened; not calloused, exactly, but not nearly as soft as Topher’s own. He could feel the occasional breath of air when Dominic exhaled, working on whatever he was doing with intent, single-minded focus. Something felt light and strange in Topher’s stomach, and his pulse fluttered in his throat.
After a minute Dominic drew his hand away, the back of his knuckles momentarily grazing the nape of Topher’s hair. For some reason he couldn’t understand Topher felt a passing spasm of disappointment.
It was only once he’d shook off the clouds and thought about what he’d felt Dominic doing that he realized: he’d painted a fake barcode on his neck.
“Now you can join the other kids at the party.” Dominic’s voice lowered to a warning. “There are only three kinds of human allowed here: donors, the mindless recruits, and the Orphanarium staff. Don’t get caught.”
Topher nodded, understanding. “Aren’t ‘suckers humans too, though?” he had to point out, meekly.
Dominic smirked derisively. “Depends on who you ask.” He went and sat down on the bed, as good as ignoring Topher already. He exhaled, sighing. “Most other vampires don’t think so, either.”
Topher tugged at his sleeve. “Why don’t you like being called a ‘sucker, anyway?” he asked, finally unable to resist his curiosity. “What’s your objection to the term?”
Dominic frowned. “You know what that word means, don’t you? Originally?”
“It’s just short for ‘bloodsucker’, right?” Topher shrugged.
“Well, yeah. But I meant before that. Before the operation, before they came up with the process that made people like us, people used to call each other ‘suckers’ and mean something else entirely.”
“They did?” Topher was surprised. “What?”
Dominic scowled at the floor. “It meant ‘loser’, essentially,” he said, his voice closed-off. With heavy sarcasm he continued, “Maybe you can get now why I don’t really like being called that to my face?”
Oops. “I’ll try not to use it anymore, from now on,” Topher promised quietly.
Dominic closed his eyes. “I don’t care what you do,” he said to Topher, and lay down on the bed.
Topher’s fingers twitched into fists, a burst of anger flaring. Without another word he turned around and left.
It wasn’t hard to find his way. All he had to do was follow the sound.
He took one step out, entering the Orphanarium proper. And then he froze, immediately overwhelmed.
The Orphanarium was the world’s biggest concert hall. The stage was about halfway between floor and ceiling, a tiered dais. There were scattered balconies, wide winding staircases, whole stretches of space with no purpose but to allow as many people as possible room to stand at once. The only illumination came from the neon lights and flashbulbs of the stage, the high overhead glow of the millions of flickering lamplights set into the domed ceiling like gems.
And everywhere Topher looked it was wall to wall with people. People dancing.
The band played alone, unaccompanied by words, just them and the rhythm and the power of their instruments as their sound beat through the crowd like one universal pulse. The dancers were a moving sea of swaying limbs and rotating bodies - the beat was fast, and they were just as fast. They had no choice but to keep up. It held them.
Their eyes were dull, their smiles mindless, but their faces were awake, in rapture from the joy of the music and an existence where this was all there was. No fears, no thoughts, just themselves and the song.
And in that moment, seeing them there, feeling almost as free and as light as they did, it was hard for Topher to see any reason not to join them.
He managed to make his way through the throng up the stairs, to the edge of one of the balconies. He listened to the music pounding in his ears. He watched the crowd, mesmerized.
“Hi.”
He whirled, startled. Standing right next to him was one of the masses: a girl, a young woman about his age. His first thought was the fear he’d been found out, but she just smiled at him.
“Hi,” she said again. “I’m Kilo.”
“I’m…uh, Chris,” he offered, hoping it sounded like one of their names.
“Hi, Chris.” There was an emptiness in her eyes but they still sparkled, and her smile was welcoming. She was pretty. “Are you new?”
“Yeah.”
Topher wasn’t sure what was happening but he felt more alive than he ever had. The power of the Orphanarium: where you only had one name, because that was all you needed. Where you could relax, because you were being taken care of for the rest of your life.
Kilo beamed. Topher thought she looked kind of like Ivy. The faces weren’t alike but she had the same petite frame, the same wavy black hair, the same dark almond-shaped eyes.
“Would you like to dance?” she asked him.
“Sure.” He put out his hand, and let Kilo lead him out onto the floor.
Topher supposed he wasn’t much of a dancer. Actually, no: he wasn’t a dancer, period. Self-defensively he could attribute it to how he’d never had much practice, but if he were being fully honest he’d suppose he just had no natural rhythm.
But it didn’t matter, there. No one was looking, no one cared, and all you had to do was move. Jump up and down in place, wave your fists in the air.
Bodies pressed against Topher from all sides. In front of him Kilo occasionally stretched her hands out, fingers touching his.
Time passed. He wasn’t sure how much. His muscles were starting to feel the exertion of all this movement but he wasn’t tired, the adrenaline rush keeping him awake. He’d forgotten how to think, forgotten everything.
Then suddenly, the beat changed. A confused ripple went through the crowd. The music at the Orphanarium never stopped, but it had just shifted to the closest thing it ever came to slow: a repetitive synthesizer track playing on repeat.
The lights on the stage dimmed. The band was changing positions. The confusion of the crowd quickly built to excitement. Murmuring they all started pushing forward, trying to get close.
Topher’s heart began to beat faster and faster as he realized what was happening.
Like every other soul there he stared at the stage as the central dais rose up, as the Voice appeared.
He heard her before he saw her. The lights were still on low, the stage awash in a subterranean glimmer that revealed nothing but shadows. She hummed at him, at them all, out of the dark, starting with a single note and building as she sang the opening line of one of her signature songs, a piece that was not too old but not too new.
The spotlights exploded. The flashes went off, the drums pounded, the guitar shrieked. Her voice rose above the roar of approval. Topher gazed up at her wide-eyed, spellbound, beholding the legend in person for the first time.
Her skin was pale white porcelain reflecting back neon. Black fabric rippled across her body like water, dark tresses framing her shoulders and face. Even from the distance Topher could see the color of her eyes beside her smoky makeup, a deep and piercing emerald green.
She sang louder, and smiled. The thousands of people watching seemed to sigh with ecstasy.
When she smiled like that, it was easy to see why she ruled there. It was easy to see why they listened to her all over the world, why they came from everywhere to see her. Why no one ever wanted to leave.
Topher stood there frozen in place and watched her on the stage as all around him the crowd softly chanted her name, awe-filled, like a prayer, faintly discernable beneath the rumble of the music:
“DeWitt…DeWitt…DeWitt…DeWitt…”