Chapter Text
Her sister was confusing her. Why was she thinking her own thoughts? Why was she going against what the Self was saying? She had asked her to come with her into a place where none of their other brothers and sisters could hear them, which was strange. Caenlin realised she had not given an answer due to the shock and quickly nodded her head, scared someone would notice and just eager to get whatever her sister wanted over with. She smiled, taking Caenlin’s hand into hers and leading her down a dark, damp passageway she had never noticed before. It was long, and very tight, and she could feel her shoulders scraping against the rough brick walls and scratching her hands.
They walked for what felt like hours to Caenlin, but at long last, there was a steadily growing light from the end of the tunnel. She blinked rapidly, shocked by the sudden change and taking in the surroundings with wide eyes. She could see her brothers and sisters lounging in different positions, some sitting, some standing, some walking around places, some engaged in conversation. Her sister laughed beside her, a loud noise shocking her out of her stance. “This”, she said, in a low, disused voice, “is the Sanctuary. It’s where we can escape the Self and live our own lives, for once, with no one controlling us. We handpick individual people, by ourselves, who we can trust, and bring them here in secret, to know what it feels like to be your individual person. And we can only trust each other, not the Self or our other siblings on the outside.”
Caelin stared, wide-eyed and gaping at her sister. She had never thought of any chance of there being an alternative life to the one she, and thousands of other people, lived. But if she thought about it, really thought about it, not having your every movement planned by a few people who controlled you and made you the same as everyone, to have her own unique life and her own personal thoughts and to live a life, one charmingly different from other people’s, would be fitter, happier.
She had never realised it before, but she was bored of their life, one where they had to be ever attentive to the screens above their head in order to act out what the Self wanted, bored of looking over at her siblings and seeing the same thing. Yes, there was a beauty to it, but that was what she had been taught, and it was uncanny, unnatural, almost like the stories she had heard growing up where they had their own families, and didn’t have a strict routine of the same thing repeating in a cycle for what must have been years now.
Caenlin remembered when it all changed. People in all white, barging through her old family home and taking her parents away from her, replacing them with strangers who brought her to this weird place and taught her that everyone had to be the same, as that was the way of the world.
“Caenlin? Caenlin?” Her sister, no, her friend, said, snapping her fingers hurriedly in front of her face. “Wake up.” She said, “I don’t know why you’re so spacey today.” No one was really related here, in this fake family full of copies.
Caenlin swallowed, not having spoken in ages, due to not having to. “We can be who we want? Is this allowed? Who made this? I have so many questions–”
“Shh,” she said, placing a finger over Caenlin’s mouth, “I’ll explain all of it to you later. Now follow me.” Once again, grabbing her arm, her friend led her through the crowd, dragging her behind her. Caenlin stared around her, eyes open wider than ever before and whipping her head around in all directions. There were colours, bright reds and oranges and greens and yellows, the crumbling rocks painted in peeling paint and lights blinking on and off. There were people, so many people, all doing something different from their neighbours. She felt her tired eyes relax, adjusting to this world without screens and feeling the stress of fitting in lifted from her shoulders.
Everything had a place, but it was not like the old world with the Self, where it was forced. She thought that this was what had a beauty to it, people, actual people, doing what they loved. Caenlin had never seen anything like it. It was like a child’s mind, disorganised but with the excitement of creativity and freedom. The smoke and the smells filled the air, of the oil of machines, of yeast rising from bakery chimneys, of the sterile cleanliness of clinics, of the herbal scent of flowers, of crumbling rock and concrete.
People, people all around her. It was almost as if the whole of the Self was there, though that would be impossible. She could see through the windows of their houses, and, curious, leaned in. A thick layer of dust coated every surface she could see, tinting the whole room into a dull, lifeless grey. Lumpy, motionless shapes lay beneath thin, moth-bitten blankets. Rotting food lay in colourful stray pieces of plastic littering the floor. She could hear the televisions blaring from outside, turned up so loud they must be hurting the people’s ears, though they didn't seem to mind. She hastily withdrew, looking away as if it were something sinful.
This place was magnificent, though. Tall, looming walls towered over the crowds and small buildings lined the sides, which seemed to have their own personalities, with tinted windows and smoke coming from chimneys at the top, where she assumed the people lived. Eventually, they stopped before a giant building towering over everyone, with thousands of tiny glass windows and men working to build more at the sides. Men who were also pouring oil through the cracks of the buildings and shaking worn cardboard boxes of matches. Seeing her confused expression, her friend laughed, again.
“This is the Saviour, who created this alternate reality for us, to save us, as our own people. Be respectful to him, as he helped make you your own person, and could make you one of them again.”
Caenlin’s heart beat at the last sentence. “What do you mean?” she asked, slightly in panic, but her friend was already walking away, towards the entrance of the window building. Caenlin hurried, not wanting to get lost in this new world and scared of the others.
As soon as she stepped in, her skin prickled and she felt uneasy, like she was being watched secretly. The murmur of the people outside was immediately cut off, replaced with a silence that felt heavy and suffocating. She and her friend hurried up glass stairs, coming into a long corridor with a bolted door at the end. Caenlin stopped, the uneasy feeling travelling further down her spine and backed away, like something monstrous lay at the end of the corridor. Her friend stared at her.
“Look, I know this is new, but you have to trust me, okay? The Saviour is the reason you’re here, and you have to meet him.” She took her arm again - Caenlin could feel her wrist stinging as her nails dug into her skin - and knocked on the huge door.