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Enjolras had never known anything but the Senate.
He was born and raised in the sector of P----, more intimately called the Senate as it acted as just that. All legislation and emergencies were handled more specifically within the Senate building- a great white monolith of a building that towered over the rest of the sector. The Senate was the richest area of the station as well as the safest. No one there had ever experienced the poverty of the other sectors. No one there had ever seen anything more than a human. Androids were just that- androids. They did housework and ran errands and passing one on the street was never enough for a second glance. Life in the Senate was peaceful and without worry.
“I can’t stand it,” he said absentmindedly to Courfeyrac as his friend wrote out pieces of code on a whiteboard as Combeferre spoke them out loud. “If you read the news and statistics from anywhere outside of the sector, it’s a nightmare. Did you know that cybernetics don’t have equal rights? Or moitiés?”
“You’ve never even met either of those,” Combeferre said back before looking up to the board where Courfeyrac finished writing. “See, I’m missing something.”
He got up to stand with Courfeyrac, the two arguing over coding errors as Enjolras sighed.
“I don’t need to meet one to think they should have equal rights. They’re just as human as we are.”
Courfeyrac turned and gave him a look. “Then what about a Rayée? They’re not human. What determines who gets what rights?”
The question exasperates Enjolras. “The Rayées are just as sentient and capable as we are, of course they should have equal rights.”
“Enj,” Courfeyrac sighed. “I don’t doubt that you’re right, but nobody is going to listen to you around here. They hear the word “moitiés” and think of poverty and aggression. They hear the word “cybernetic” and they associate it with a loss of humanity, a warmachine.”
Combeferre, who had been quiet during this, snaps and takes the marker out of Courfeyrac’s hand. “Oh! I got it!”
He scribbles an extra line of code on the board before returning to his computer and typing away. As soon as he presses enter, the droid connected to the system unit boots back to life, face glowing white with the signal of reloading.
Combeferre sighs in relief and sits back in his chair. “Oh my god, I’ve been trying to fix that thing for a month. Its owner was on my ass this whole week.” His head rolls back to Enjolras. “What’s your plan then, Enj, to fix everything? It’s not as easy as erasing a few laws- the division between “us” and “them” is rooted back in the founding days of the station.”
Enjolras taps his pen against his notebook, thinking it over before gathering his things and getting to his feet.
“I’ll talk to my father about it.”
“No,” Enjolras’s father said with a flick of the hand, exiting out of Enjolras’s projection of the presentation he’d put together in defense of changing the status of cybernetics and moitiés in society. “You’re foolish to even ask such a thing.”
Enjolras gaped at him. “But why? Why is it so hard to accept that we aren't superior just because we’re human?
“If I was to propose a bill,” his father continued, “it would not get passed. Point blank, there is no need to create equal opportunity for those who are not equipped for it. Cybernetics are not as capable for human life, just as moitiés aren’t. By giving them the ability to dream of such a life, you cripple them.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.”
“What point is there in claiming that the Senate strives for progress if there’s no progress being made?”
“For someone who refuses to get a higher education or a job, you sure seem to think you’re right about everything.”
“I don’t need to have a job to know what’s right.”
His father stood from his desk abruptly, startling him. “I won’t have you continuing this nonsense anymore. You're twenty-two years old, you’re not a child. You can’t keep running around with your head in the clouds and embarrassing the family like you seem intent on doing.”
Enjolras blinks. “What?”
“You have nothing more that I want to hear, get out,” he pointed to the door. “I have real business to take care of.”
“Papa-”
“Out.”
He gets out of the chair, hands curled into fists. Enjolras wants to say something, he wants to argue. He wants to shout at his father until the security of his office drags him out by the arms.
No words come to mind though, so he spins on his heels and leaves.
Enjolras has never known anything but the Senate.
His, Courfeyrac’s, and Combeferre’s fathers were all members of the Senate; they had never been outside of the sector. There was no need. As he walked down the street that left from that great monolith, Enjolras wrapped his arms around him and observed the life he lived in.
The men and women in their work uniforms passed him by, paying no mind to his worry. The androids sent for errands kept to their own side of the street, so clearly just cold machinery that no one could ever consider them to be human. The children that played outside their homes in colourful fabrics that their parents could afford because nobody in this sector had experienced poverty and pain.
And Enjolras hadn’t either. He walked down the street with a red blouse because his parents could afford it, and he had never worked a day in his life.
“ Another attack was placed on Sector Ten, destroying more moitié community buildings with exposure to the outside. With two hundred missing and fifty injured, a station-wide call for techmed-licensed individuals and engineers has been released by the Senate for…”
He laid on his side, wrapped in a blanket as he watched the news broadcast. Enjolras had commissioned Combeferre to override the proxy that separated Senate news from Station channels. There was no mention of an attack or a call for help today. The men and women would continue to live their lives in colourful fabrics and have their androids pick up groceries without a second thought.
“I wish I could get my techmed license,” Combeferre murmured behind Enjolras. He was reading another batch of code- something for the android he was working to reprogram. “I wish they had classes for them here. I think you can only get them in Sector Five.”
Enjolras sighed. “What’s the point?”
From where he sat in the armchair, Courfeyrac looked up to him with a frown. “Did things not go okay today?”
“No.”
Courfeyrac shrugged, but gave him a sympathetic look. “I told you- no one here is gonna listen to you, they have no reason to.”
He gets out of his chair to lean over Combeferre’s shoulder and watch him work. Courfeyrac himself interned at the Senate building, but he held the same interest in tech that Combeferre held. If he could have gone to the engineering school, he would have, but his father’s plans called for otherwise. Combeferre wanted to work in the hospitals that saved lives, that performed techmed surgeries. There was no such thing in the Senate, however. There was no poverty and oppression to fight over, to cause violence and injury. Combeferre was right when he said Enjolras had never met a cyber. The thought of one being in the Senate was unheard of. If he ever wanted to see these people he cared about and prove they were just as worthy of respect and equality, he’d have to leave.
Enjolras sat up suddenly and turned to face his friends, blanket falling off of his shoulders.
The corner of Combeferre’s mouth tugged upward. “Someone has an idea, hm?”
A knock came to his door as Enjolras fervently shoved socks and notebooks into his duffel bag. He bought it earlier in the day, passing by a sports store and thinking that it looked big enough, but not too suspicious.
The noise startles him. Enjolras looks around before taking the bag and shoving it under his bed, socks falling loose onto his floor. By the time he’s crouched down, picking them up with panic, his door opens.
“Your mother and I spoke,” his father says after a moment of peering at him down on the floor. The statement itself was possibly loaded- his parents had been separated for the past five years. “We could agree that you’re not living up to your potential, that laying around all day is causing you to go stir-crazy.”
Almost immediately, Enjolras scowls. “I don’t lay around all day.”
“And,” his father continues, not acknowledging his reply, “she has brought it to my attention that her father in the war department knows many ‘fiery young men’ and where to put them.”
“War department,” Enjolras repeats in confusion. “What do we need a war department for?”
He huffs. “You think your intellect is so superior to the people who run your home, yet you know nothing. Your cousin is here, he’ll take you with him in the morning.”
As his father leaves, a young man that Enjolras assumes is around his age pops in. He has dark, tousled hair and big ears. He smiles nervously.
“Hello,” he says, jutting out his hand in a way that was both overly confident and awkward at the same time. “I’m Marius, I intern at the war department.”
Enjolras doesn’t take his hand. “What is the department for? What war are we fighting?”
Marius stares at him oddly, hand still hanging in the air. “With… the Rayées.”
“That’s not true,” he scoffs. “The Rayées have been integrated with us for over a hundred years.”
“You…” Marius’s voice trails off as he looks down at his untaken hand, bringing it back to his side before clicking his tongue, head falling back. “ Oh… I forgot. You were raised here. I’m from Sector One, I always forget that they don’t tell you stuff.”
He doesn’t have the time to respond before there’s a specific knock to his window, one he had taught to Courfeyrac in the afternoon. Marius frowns as Enjolras turns to open the window, taking the two hands that extend upward to him. With a grunt, he pulls Courfeyrac through the window, letting him collapse before turning to take Combeferre’s hands as well.
“Oh my god,” Courfeyrac gasped. “That was the most physical work I’ve done in years.” He sat back onto his ass, looking at Marius with a furrowed brow. “Who’s this?”
Combeferre comes through the room more gracefully than Courfeyrac, landing on his feet rather than his hands and knees. Marius glances between the two of them, frown still present as he sticks out his hand again.
“Marius Pontmercy, I intern for-”
Combeferre walks past Marius’s outstretched hand and takes Enjolras’s bag from the floor. “How many socks do you think you’re gonna need?”
“Maybe it’s for-”
“It’s not for that, ‘Rac,” Enjolras says, coming to Combeferre’s side and pulling out some of the pairs of socks. “I wasn’t sure what we’d need.”
Courfeyrac gets to his feet and dusts off his hands. “What’s this ‘we’ business?”
“I’m going with him.”
“You’re what? ”
Marius, still unsure what to do with his hand, cocks his head. “Is he a volunteer as well?”
It’s difficult not to glare at him, so Enjolras does. “No, and neither am I. You can go now.”
“Marius, did you say?” Courfeyrac asks, finally taking his hand and giving it a firm shake. “No hard feelings, truly, but I don’t think you’re gonna get very far with whatever it is you’re trying to do.” He drops Marius’s hand and turns to the others. “Are you stupid? Why would you go with him?”
“He’ll get mugged and killed without me- Enj trusts too much in the others,” Combeferre explains, adjusting his glasses. “And I told you- I want my techmed license. You can always come with us, you know.”
Enjolras nods, looking to Courfeyrac expectantly for his answer. He has to say yes, truly. The three had known each other since before they could speak, Courfeyrac wouldn’t let go so easily.
But he shakes his head. “Absolutely not- no. You’re both insane. Why would I leave? It’s the safest place we can be, we have nothing else outside the Senate.”
“Why would you stay?” Enjolras asks back. “Would you rather be safe, or would you rather be free?”
Courfeyrac blinks and an uncomfortable silence falls over the room, only broken when Marius clears his throat.
“Why… um, where are you going?” His feet point inward, Enjolras notices. Marius is too unsure, too afraid. He’s a liability.
“I told you to get out,” Enjolras repeats. “And if you tell my father, I’ll kill you.”
As soon as Marius jolts, Combeferre takes Enjolras by the elbow and pulls him backward. “He won’t.”
“I will.” Enjolras takes a few more shirts from his closet and tosses them in the bag before turning to Courfeyrac. “If all you’ll fight for is your own personal happiness, we’ll part ways here.”
He slings the bag over his shoulder and heads for the window. It’s about a two metre drop- Enjolras assumes Courfeyrac was assisted by Combeferre to even get his hands up there. He jumps to the ground, though, the grass beneath his feet giving a spongy landing. Combeferre comes next, pulling up a map on his watch and beginning to trail their way to the first Sector when there’s a whispered shout.
“Enjolras!” Courfeyrac leans halfway out the window. “Enjolras- wait!”
There’s a split second between his clumsy shimmy out of the window and the slip of his fingers when Enjolras realizes that he’s going to fall. Both him and Combeferre rush over at the same time to try and catch him- ending up rather as a mattress to soften his blow as Courfeyrac crashes on top of his friends.
“Oh, fuck,” he whispers again, trying not to gain the attention of anyone else in the nighbourhood. “Oh, fuck, that hurt.”
“Did it now?” Combeferre snaps back. Enjolras catches the glint of light against his spectacles and notices that during the fall, one of his lenses cracked. “What were you thinking?”
Courfeyrac manages to escape the mess of limbs and gets to his feet before pointing down at Enjolras, face hardly visible in the dark. “You’re right- I’m coming with you, okay?”
He doesn’t stop the grin that spreads across his face. Enjolras helps Combeferre stand up, letting Courfeyrac throw his arms around both of their shoulders as Combeferre brings the map back up.
“Okay, there's a door past the Senate building. I think it has a proxy, but the closer we get, I’ll be able to get a better look at the coding and work around it.”
“Oh my god, how long is this walk gonna be?”
“About an hour.”
“I hope you’re joking.”
The three continued to bicker as they left. Enjolras’s stomach swirled in both excitement and nerves. The thought of leaving had never occurred to him before- he never saw a need to. The Senate was home, was safety, was a promise to a happy life. Enjolras would rather be free, though.
Enjolras had never known anything but the Senate.
He was born and raised in the sector of P----, and there was an entire world struggling that he knew nothing about.
The night went on as the three walked. Courfeyrac would complain but that’s just how he was. Combeferre helped them find safe ways to avoid any suspicious watch, and Enjolras followed with no regret.
By the time they reached the dull, metal doors of the exit, it occurred to him that this was the furthest from home he’d ever been.
“Give me a second,” Combeferre murmured, making the projection of his watch larger and scrolling through pieces of code. Enjolras never understood how he was able to read it like another language, but trusted his ability more than anyone else in this godforsaken birdcage. “Okay, and…”
He looked up expectantly, blue light reflecting off his broken glasses as he typed a code into the keypad. Enjolras held his breath as it lit up green, the heavy doors grinding and groaning as they pushed apart.
“You could have just taken the elevators. They’re in the Senate building, you know.”
The sound of Marius’s voice caused the three to jump out of their skin. Enjolras spun on his heels, eyes widening at the sight of his cousin who had not been there previously. There was a backpack on his shoulders- a red one that Enjolras used in grade school.
“What the hell are you doing?” Enjolras asked, stepping forward and taking him by the collar. “What do you want from me?”
Marius recoiled in fear. “I just… thought you sounded smart and… I’ve never had friends before. I just thought...”
He blinks at him. “Friends? What do you think this is?”
Courfeyrac puts a hand on Enjolras’s arm. “Let go, Enjolras. He’s okay.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I don’t, you’re right.”
Although confused, Enjolras releases his grasp on Marius’s shirt and allows for Courfeyrac to dust off his chest.
“I trust you,” Courfeyrac said absentmindedly before looking up to Marius with a serious look, one that Enjolras rarely ever saw, “but if you’re here to cause trouble, I’ll leave you to the dogs.” He gestured to Enjolras at that last part ( was he the dog? ) and returned to the open doors. “Shall we, then?”
Marius held onto the straps of the comically small backpack and nodded. He walked forward with Courfeyrac and Combeferre up the dark steps, giving Enjolras a moment to lag behind.
He glanced over his shoulder once more, to gaze upon the great white monolith of the Senate- and then he turned around and followed his friends.
It takes two hours to reach a door, the LED letters above reading: SECTOR ONE. Combeferre keys in the same password, stepping back for the rusted doors to open and reveal what Enjolras had left for.
It was a city- larger than Enjolras had ever seen before. The great, metal buildings reached the top of a dark sky, windows lit with dim, yellow light. Despite the hour, there were people all around, walking and speaking and buying and selling. In the sky sat a box, suspended in the air and reading the time in the large LED letters.
There was no spongy grass under his feet anymore- only being hard, unfeeling steel sitting beneath his shoes.
Enjolras breathed in deeply, tasting the dusted, stale, air and walked forward into the sea of people.