revealed an opening no bigger than a shoe box. From within its darkness a gyrating appendage emerged, slithering forth like a sentient tentacle, but no more natural in its embodiment than anything else in this stark place. Black and lustrous like the walls and floor, the segmented extremity tapped chitinously against the hard flooring as it writhed forward. It reached the object at his feet, stopped alongside it, then expeditiously wrapped itself around the fused base like an attacking snake suffocating a mouse. Once secure, the end attached itself to one of the prongs, like a nozzle on a hose. A whining noise ensued, circulating the room like a scream escaping a lost soul, sufficiently drowning out the unremitting resonance.
"The unit is full," the electronic voice droned. The whine stopped and a shrill whine resounded in its place. It continued for as long as the whine transpired, then stopped, at once returning the room to its eerie resonating pulse. "The unit has been evacuated."
The bald man nodded, understanding of the Giver.
" Harbinger, what is your purpose?"
The bald man perceived an odd sensation in his head, as if a switch had been turned on to reveal an appropriate answer to the query. "To seek out Suppliers."
"Harbinger, what will you do if an Outsider discovers you?"
"Kill them."
"Harbinger, what will you do if an Outsider overcomes you, or escapes?"
"Kill myself."
"Harbinger, take the unit. Seek out new Suppliers."
" Yes Giver," he answered automatically.
The room went black, relinquishing the colors, restoring darkness. He leaned down, picked up the Atmosphere, the very feel of it sending tiny jolts of electricity through his fingers. He returned it to his jacket pocket, allowing his fingers to again roam the spines, wondering what it must be like to become one with the Atmosphere just as the Suppliers hadâthe fortunate ones whom he had bestowed its magic upon. He desired so badly for the opportunity to supply. But he had been tentative to query the Giver. Perhaps next time. Yes, next time, when he returned the Atmosphere back for replenishing, he would request that he become a Supplier. He turned and exited the way he came, through the ebony corridor, into the long tunnel and back into the subway. Eventually he made it outside and his memories returned, his name, his purpose, his thoughts and beliefs. The sunlight pained his eyes, even with the sunglasses, they hurt. No matter. He would go home and hide until the sun went down. Then he would set out and share the pleasure of the Atmosphere with new Suppliers.
Yes indeed, perhaps next time the Giver would allow him to supply.
Chapter Six
Â
4 : 00 PM approached, Thursday afternoon. New York was a maze of dips and recesses, buildings and subway entrances. The sky was cloudless, warm rays of sunshine extending across Queens, Brooklyn, Jersey. Taxis fired by, horns blaring. Buses gridlocked the street corners. Innumerable people, notably anonymous within the chaos, shifted in every direction imaginable, mazing their way to destinations unknown, their thoughts unquestionably in as much disorder as the environment surrounding them. People yelling. Children shrieking. Complete chaos, yet somehow systemized in its entirety. Typical day in the city.
Climbing the concrete steps leading to the13th precinct, Frank felt winded and lightheaded, as if he had just run a race. The trek from his apartment was only six blocks today, less than ten minute walk. But still he felt tired.
Sometimes, weather permitting, he would walk to his office at the 12th, which took nearly thirty minutes, and he usually felt fine, sometimes exercised, invigorated. But today he had trouble simply keeping up with the traffic. One bad night will kill you , he thought, figuring it would take at least two days before he felt like 'himself' again. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, one hand gripping the handrail, one hand instinctively feeling for the gun strapped
"The unit is full," the electronic voice droned. The whine stopped and a shrill whine resounded in its place. It continued for as long as the whine transpired, then stopped, at once returning the room to its eerie resonating pulse. "The unit has been evacuated."
The bald man nodded, understanding of the Giver.
" Harbinger, what is your purpose?"
The bald man perceived an odd sensation in his head, as if a switch had been turned on to reveal an appropriate answer to the query. "To seek out Suppliers."
"Harbinger, what will you do if an Outsider discovers you?"
"Kill them."
"Harbinger, what will you do if an Outsider overcomes you, or escapes?"
"Kill myself."
"Harbinger, take the unit. Seek out new Suppliers."
" Yes Giver," he answered automatically.
The room went black, relinquishing the colors, restoring darkness. He leaned down, picked up the Atmosphere, the very feel of it sending tiny jolts of electricity through his fingers. He returned it to his jacket pocket, allowing his fingers to again roam the spines, wondering what it must be like to become one with the Atmosphere just as the Suppliers hadâthe fortunate ones whom he had bestowed its magic upon. He desired so badly for the opportunity to supply. But he had been tentative to query the Giver. Perhaps next time. Yes, next time, when he returned the Atmosphere back for replenishing, he would request that he become a Supplier. He turned and exited the way he came, through the ebony corridor, into the long tunnel and back into the subway. Eventually he made it outside and his memories returned, his name, his purpose, his thoughts and beliefs. The sunlight pained his eyes, even with the sunglasses, they hurt. No matter. He would go home and hide until the sun went down. Then he would set out and share the pleasure of the Atmosphere with new Suppliers.
Yes indeed, perhaps next time the Giver would allow him to supply.
Chapter Six
Â
4 : 00 PM approached, Thursday afternoon. New York was a maze of dips and recesses, buildings and subway entrances. The sky was cloudless, warm rays of sunshine extending across Queens, Brooklyn, Jersey. Taxis fired by, horns blaring. Buses gridlocked the street corners. Innumerable people, notably anonymous within the chaos, shifted in every direction imaginable, mazing their way to destinations unknown, their thoughts unquestionably in as much disorder as the environment surrounding them. People yelling. Children shrieking. Complete chaos, yet somehow systemized in its entirety. Typical day in the city.
Climbing the concrete steps leading to the13th precinct, Frank felt winded and lightheaded, as if he had just run a race. The trek from his apartment was only six blocks today, less than ten minute walk. But still he felt tired.
Sometimes, weather permitting, he would walk to his office at the 12th, which took nearly thirty minutes, and he usually felt fine, sometimes exercised, invigorated. But today he had trouble simply keeping up with the traffic. One bad night will kill you , he thought, figuring it would take at least two days before he felt like 'himself' again. He paused for a moment to catch his breath, one hand gripping the handrail, one hand instinctively feeling for the gun strapped
Similar Books
