Saturday, October 1, 2318
I have been conducting my own tests.
There seems to be a theme going with the words I overheard and the ones Tybal whispered in the Atrium; they need me. For what exactly is still unclear but there is power in that and I have latched onto it with both hands. I have not written down the things that have happened lately because I can feel now that I am being watched. I don’t want to give them anything to hold over me but today I felt the journal calling and so I sit and write.
“Tell me about my mother.” I had asked Grifkin as more of my blood snaked through a clear tube. I saw the flash of anger contort his face before he regained that cool composure. His words were dull and meaningless, nothing in them was truth but the shift in his eyes and the sacchrine tones that dripped like venom from his mouth told me enough. Later that night Tybal collected me from my room and we took the elevator up. The Atrium has become our sanctuary, our time to spend together speaking frankly. Though how he manages sneaking us there so often I don’t know, but I don’t care. I trust him. I can’t explain that either, something inside just does.
I can see in those blue, blue eyes as we sit together on the stone benches under the shading canopy of green leaves that he wants to say it all, that he wants to tell me everything but he cannot. So, I carefully pick at him like teasing a string from a tight knot until I gain just a little more information. A little more fuel for my tests.
I don’t feel guilty for this, he knows what I am doing and the information is bubbling up so overwhelmingly inside him, I think he feels relief that it is said by my urging and not his own will.
Grifkin and my mother were not friends. My mother didn’t like what they were doing here. When she found out she was pregnant, and that the child was a girl, she left. My father followed her to the City.
How or what or why he never said, just those terse sentences. That was how he always told me things. But I had to be careful, even through all these games we played, Tybal and I, was the constant reminder shouting in the back of my head that, to these people, he was expendable. I think that is why I don’t push too hard.
“What is a Seeker?” I asked Grifkin as I pushed myself on the treadmill during one of his tests. This time I wasn’t able to look at his face but his long pause told me.
“Where did you hear that?” He asked.
“My father told me once that I was a Seeker. I wondered if you knew what it meant.” I replied innocently. I glanced at the controls, I was nearing my thirty-fifth mile. By the eightith, we had to break for lunch.
I am still unsure if I should be doing poorly on these tests, but in all honesty I don’t know what that would mean, less than what I am able but by how much? I have no gauge except my own ability. There is no one being tested with me for which I could determine if I was better or worse. I just do what comes naturally even when it results in eyes silently flickering between scientists. I asked Tybal but he said for me to do my best, that nothing I did would ever been lacking or wrong. I rolled my eyes and shoved his shoulder in play and told him to be serious. Later that night, alone in the darkness of my room I realized he had been serious.
Piece by piece things fall into line, snatches of memories between my father and I resurface and I begin to understand, even a tiny bit, what was happening, though my knowledge is lacking so painfully much. Last night Tybal told me to ask Grifkin for something. Something that is a bit ridiculous but that I tell him I need. That will make me happy. He said to think of it as another test for them. Which is how we talk now; Us and Them. Somewhere we have formed an alliance.
Before he left me in my room he grabbed my hand, turning me toward him. At first I thought there was something he forgot to say but his eyes were shining in a funny way that made my stomach flip on it’s side. I cannot describe the feeling of his lips touching mine. I cannot remember what I was thinking, if I was thinking at all. The only thing I can say is that something happened, something more than a kiss. When the doors shut me into a black void I swear I could feel his heart beating a quick rhythm to the pace of his steps as he walked down the hall. I felt him still, as it softened, slowed as he drifted into sleep, as it lulled me into my own.