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“You’re just shaken up honey, you’re not going to prison, and your secret is my secret. Come on I’ll make you some tea and you can tell me about it.”

Her eyes are trusting and her words soothing. I let her lead me by the hand, and we cross the room. Her foot snuffs out the discarded cigarette as she passes through the door into a brightly colored kitchen.

A pot of boiling water is already steaming on the stovetop. She releases my hand and walks over to the counter and begins preparing two cups of tea. A small table sits just off the kitchen near the living room. I decide on the chair farthest from the kitchen. As I wait for the tea, my shoulder begins to ache and the scrapes on my chest and back burn. Needing to get my mind off the pain, I survey the room. The walls are just as bright as the kitchen and various pieces of abstract art hang on nearly every available space. There is no television across from the couch, only a coffee table scattered with books.

Cups in hand, the woman starts for the table. I shift my gaze back to her, following her with my eyes. She places a cup of hot tea in front of me then takes her own seat across from me. I lower my guard, but only a little.

“It’s herbal tea, I hope you don’t mind, I’m out of everything else.”

“This is fine. Thank you.”

I take a quick sip, keeping my eyes fixed on her over the cup. My stare doesn’t seem to faze her. Taking three heaping teaspoons of sugar from the blue container in the center of the table, she stirs it slowly into her tea. We sit in awkward silence punctuated by the clicking of her spoon against the cup as she stirs. After a long thorough stir, she picks up the still-steaming cup and takes a sip.

“Delicious. I love a good cup of tea. Always helps me think. What about you, what helps you think?”

I let my guard relax further, maybe I can finally get some answers.

“I love to look out at the city from my family’s apartment. We live at the top so it’s a pretty incredible view.”

“I bet it is.”

Staring into my tea, I can’t think of any kind of small talk. My body and mind are still energized from the chase and I’m feeling impatient.

“If you don’t mind can we get to the important things?”

“I didn’t think we were in a rush, but I can see you fidgeting.”

I hadn’t noticed I was fidgeting, but now that she has noticed I make a conscious effort to keep my body still, but it seems to think we’re still running.

“So what’s important to you?”

“Truth.”

She finishes off her tea in a long continuous drink. Setting the teacup aside she leans onto the table with her elbows.

“You’ve been feeling a nagging desire for months, maybe even longer. Slowly you’ve been testing out your unfounded, but correct, belief that we’ve all been duped into playing dress up. Today was the day you took the plunge, confronted your doubts, and challenged everything.”

She speaks as if remembering her own experiences and I feel the hackles of my guard drop completely, she’s like me, like Delia.

“So what is the truth then? Why? How could this have go on for so long? Why does no one question anything?”

“I can’t tell you why it started, or even how long it has been going on. It was like this for my parents and their parents. And as far as questioning things, I think everyone does, they just don’t act on it. It takes a great deal of effort to jump blindly into the unknown.”

“So what is the truth then?”

“I don’t know. I’m just another seeker like you.”

“But you have to know something!” The impetuousness in my voice comes out harsh.

Leaning back in her chair, her face sours and her gaze shifts to the brightly colored walls.

“I have known since I was probably a year younger than you, but I didn’t get as lucky as you when you fell through my window. They caught up to me. I blacked out when a baton smashed against my head. The next thing I knew I was in a prison cell for ten years. When I finally got out, they let me know that repeat offenders don’t come out of prison again, and that if I attempted to talk about my experiences the next place I’d find myself was on the gallows.”

I instantly regret my snippy tone. I don’t think I could be kind like her after an experience like that. This might be happening to Victoriana as we speak. I deeply regret my tone and impatience but I’ve already uttered them into the room and no amount of wishing will undo their actions.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s all in the past. I don’t feel resentment for what happened. Even in my jail cell I knew I was freer than any bird. Once you’ve tasted truth, the lies never satisfy.”

Her words ring true. I don’t know if I can ever play along again by going through the ridiculous motions. I may have found freedom in a life outside the prison of lies, but I’m going to be a fugitive from now on. That fact doesn’t sit well. I take a few deep breaths and try and calm my racing heart.

“So do you just stay here, trying to stay out of trouble? Or do you still put on a mask and go places?”

“I need to eat, make money, and pay the bills. So I still go out, which necessitates a mask. Thankfully, however, I’ve discovered ways to get by with what I need without having to go out very often.”

“Are you still looking for answers?”

“I did for a long time, came very close to finding them too. But I settled into the life I have now and I don’t think I want to risk knowing anymore. You can understand—surely. The last time I shattered a lie, I got my skull shattered too. Besides, it took me too long to get where I am, the truth would be wasted on an old woman like me. I think you have the time and tenacity to really benefit from it so I’d like to share something with you, if you’d accept it.”

“I would love to learn what you know!”

“Well it’s not really what I know, but I can give you a key that will open some doors for you.”

Standing up from the table she disappears into the room I fell into. I start to get up, but she quickly reemerges.

“No need to get up, I’ve brought it here.” She waves me down.

I nestle back into the chair. It creaks softly under my weight but I feel light with anticipation.

She’s holding something tightly in her hand. My curiosity peaks. She places it gently on the table. As her hand pulls back what remains is a small blue, translucent object. From where I’m sitting it looks like a sphere.

“Go ahead pick it up.”

My hand extends cautiously. Taking it in my hand, it is incredibly heavy and warm for its diminutive size. I bring it close for inspection. The sphere is not a sphere at all but made up on thousands of tiny sides. The center of the object appears to have something metallic floating in it. Twisting it around to try and get a better look at the embedded object yields nothing. It seems to shift and change from every different angle I hold it to.

“I’ve never seen anything like it. What is it?”

“That is the key. The key to unlocking the truth. The truth of our Great Society.”

I am genuinely intrigued. For the first time I have something tangible from which to seek answers. But how can this help? What do I have to do to get at the truth inside? Do I want to know?

“How can a sphere, or whatever shape it is, contain all the answers?” My whirling emotions seep into my voice.

She smiles and extends her arm out to take the object. I plop it into her hands.

“This is a high capacity storage module. It works with imprint machines. Most of them are strictly controlled by the Caretakers, but there is one they’ve forgotten about, the original. It’s called the Oracle Device. It was built long before you were born, long before even I was born. Replaced a dozen times over, it now sits lock away, buried and forgotten. I know it sounds a bit farfetched, like more lies, but I don’t want to deceive you. You’ve been deceived your entire life, so I know you will believe me when I speak the truth.”

Holding the sphere up between us, her face grows somber and her tone becomes bold. “This will let you see what they don’t want you to see. What they’ve hidden from us all. A journey to the beginning, to the truth.”

I feel duped. More dead ends. Everyone I’ve encountered that could help me has been cryptic or delusional. How could such a little thing take me on such a fantastical journey? And if this Oracle Device is so powerful, no one would so casually invite a stranger to use it. Too stressed and too tired to deal with this, I have to get out of here.

“I can’t hear any more of this. I can’t keep chasing my shadow. I need to go home. I won’t tell anyone about your open window.”

Standing up from the table, I spill my tea. It splatters loudly on the floor. She looks away from me and the mess I’ve caused toward the art on the wall. Tears pool in her eyes.

“I won’t force you to stay. I brought this up too soon. You haven’t had time to let your nerves relax from the chase. The door is over there, but please take it with you. If you want to use it, then you would make me happy, or if you decide to destroy it that’s fine too. People always want to tell you what to do, but I want you to decide on your own. Please just let me give you this opportunity; it’s wasted on me.”

Standing motionless, I watch her get up from the table and head to the kitchen. I let her words digest while she pulls some paper from a drawer and begins to write on it. When she finishes writing she walks over to me and places the paper and the object in my hand.

“My door will always be open to you.”

I turn and began to walk toward the door. Without looking back, I shove the paper and sphere into my pocket then put my hand on the handle to turn the airlock. Her hand grabs my shoulder, startling me. I turn swiftly to face her. She recoils from my sudden turn. Recovering her composure, she looks me in the eye. Holding my mask in her hand she offers it to me. A gentle smile curves up her tear-stained cheeks. I take it gently from her hands.

“Thank you.” My tone betrays my confused and conflicted feelings toward her.

“Of course, honey. Be safe.”

I turn back to the door. Putting the mask back on makes me feel suffocated. The smell of carbon and rubber accost my nostrils. Entering the airlock, I feel like a fool. A fool for wearing my mask, a fool for taking it off. The little blue sphere hangs heavy in my pocket. The doors hiss open and once again I feel lost among the winding, narrow streets.

The walk home gives me too much time to think and to regret. Delia chose this path, the woman chose this path, and for better or worse I too have chosen this path. I should have reacted better to so many things. I should never have been so cruel to Victoriana, I should have prepared more, learned more. But it’s over now, and here I am upon the filthy streets, safe, battered but alive, and still searching. There are doubts and fears swirling in the dark corners of my mind, but they only mean I’m human. They don’t control me.

By the time I enter through the lobby’s airlock and take my mask off, I never want to put in on again. The lobby is empty except for the concierge siting at the desk absently flipping the pages of a magazine. It doesn’t take long to cross the wide polished stone floors and reach the elevator. Watching as the doors close me in, it’s impossible to shake the feeling of being constantly trapped. One prison to the next. Trapped in a mask, an elevator, the city, what’s the difference? The freedom I felt earlier is beginning to fade. My hand passes over the sphere in my pocket. The road forward winds further onward into the unknown.

Top floor, doors open. I make the final steps of the trek down the hallway with my head hung low, watching my feet lift and fall. The door opens into our dark apartment. The muffled sounds of Mother’s distant television are the only signs of life. The comfort of an empty home contrasts sharply with the aching of my body. Sweat and grime from today’s events feel like shackles. I step into the bathroom. Locking the door behind me I take off my soot and salt covered clothes. Leaving the lights off, I step onto the cold tile floor of the shower. Hot water cascades over me. The aches melt away with the waves of scalding water. Curling into a ball on the smooth tile floor, I slip into sleep.

Shivering myself awake, I reach up and turn the handle quickly ending the chilling torrent. Even with the water off, my shivers continue to rack my body. The towel feels warm and fantastic against my cold and pruned skin. Wrapped in the towel, I open the door. Father sits squarely in front of the screen. He doesn’t even notice me.

I dress in night-clothes quickly then return to retrieve my dirty clothes from the bathroom floor. The weight of the sphere feels immense in the limp pile of clothes in my arms. Back in my room I dig it and the note from the pocket. The bed bounces when I plop down. Setting the sphere beside me on the bed, I unfold the note and read.
City archive: special collections
. Finding truth in a library isn’t unbelievable, but it all feels too good to be true. I have to think this through. I roll off the bed, taking the sphere and note with me. Using the distraction of the television, I go to my spot at the window unseen. The television’s bright light makes the window feel more like a wall.

Straining to look at the billboards, a flash of amusement hits me. The faraway billboard of the Peace Officer’s stern warning to
Keep your opinions to yourself! Your business should stay your business
strikes me now as more true than ever. The billboard’s Peace Officer steps into my thoughts and begins reenacting the horrors that woman suffered. The thought of a baton cracking open my skull sends shivers down my spine. Looking down at the translucent blue sphere in my hand, I can’t help but feel that maybe she was trying to help. Maybe she’s not all there. Between the head injuries and demoralizing solitude of prison, who could blame her for shedding her sanity? But her words never rang false. Her eyes and emotion were so genuine. Maybe this thing won’t answer all the burning questions in the universe, but at least it gives me some place to go next. Hopefully the worst thing that happens is that she bought this from a street peddler and I get laughed at by a librarian. Even so, a library is a good place to start. And I really can’t discount her so quickly. Only a few months ago I knew you would die without your mask. Even after seeing Delia without her mask, I
knew
taking mine off would kill me. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I would have written it off as crazy in a heartbeat. Besides, I have to keep pressing forward. What choice do I have? Playing dress up for Mother every day? I can’t go back now. Lies can’t suppress the fires of my curiosity any longer. Relieved to have a plan, foolhardy or not, I return unnoticed to my room. Holding the sphere tight in my hand I drift asleep, itching for tomorrow.