Filtered by G.K. Lamb Page A

can be transformed into swirling black-grey pieces of art by the moving windows of a bus. I wish more art looked like this instead of the overly bright and optimistic pictures of men and women working, their faces like the woman’s on the Mountain Air billboard, overly enthused. It has been my experience that no one looks like that, without medication anyway. I lose myself in the blurred world beyond the windows.
    Slowly the artistic images begin to un-swirl and reform into solid shapes of buildings and the bobbing masked forms of people walking the streets. The bus stops with a jerk. I wait my turn, watching the girl to my left. When she rises, I do too. Keeping my eyes down, the shuffling of my feet brings my thoughts back to Victoriana. They never left; they were only momentarily covered. The disgrace I felt earlier retakes me. I step off the bus and push my way half-heartedly toward my apartment and its requisite airlocks.
    The entrance line is short, so I find myself promptly inside the cylinder of hissing air and grinding steel. After the airlock removed the air from the street and replaced it with scrubbed air from the building, the door opens. I step onto the shiny floor of the large entry hall. Music is playing like normal but it sounds muffled and distant. There is no line for the elevators. I press the call button and the doors open right away. Stepping inside, I press the button for my floor and lean back against the wall. Like normal, like clockwork. I wonder if Victoriana is home now or if they’re still holding her at the school? Does she know it was me who logged into her account? And if she does, would she tell them or would she protect me? The elevator stops and I begin the long walk down the hallway to the my door at the end. As I move I hear faint, distant voices. I don’t look up from my feet to investigate; instead I focus on the swirling pattern of the floor’s carpet, attempting to keep my mind off Victoriana. From years of walking this hall I know exactly when I’m in front of my door without having to look. The voices have grown louder. Looking up, I find the door wide open. I see my masked mother and the building’s superintendent, Mr. Standish, in the living room. They appear to be arguing because their arms are gesticulating wildly. Despite my close proximity, their voices still sound muffled; shouldn’t I be able to hear the argument? I then realize that when I came through the airlock I forgot to remove my mask. How could I forget to do something so simple, so automatic? I think I’m more shaken up by what happened to Victoriana than I’ve allowed myself to believe. With a single motion I pull the mask free and suddenly their words were clear. I quickly move into the kitchen to eavesdrop.
    “I’ve told you a dozen times already, ma’am, we’ve already taken precautions and installed a redundant air safety system.”
    “I don’t care if you’ve done it already. I want you to do it again! And double check all the seals and doors to this place while you’re at it. You may be too thick or too young to remember, but the people who murdered those children at the school are the same ones who terrorized the city decades ago!”
    “What are you even talking about? It was an isolated incident, that’s what the news said.”
    “That’s what they told us last time too, even when you could look out your own window and see the city burning!”
    “Look lady…”
    “That’s Mrs. Brennan to you!”
    “Look, Mrs. Brennan, I do remember those days. This is nothing like that. All the subversives are in prison. This was an isolated incident. You are safe here. You don’t need to wear your mask inside.”
    “Are you that naïve? You think you can simply imprison all of those deranged people and have the problem go away? They’re like cancer! Once they enter society, the only way to remove them is to purge the whole body. Every cell, every molecule, must be scoured clean! I know they’re