Chapter 2

227.07.23 / 7:12 a.m.

You awoke to the sound of clanging. Tools against hard metal. Yelling. Not unusual sounds to hear so early, but disgruntling all the same.

You rolled over and glanced at your clock, 7:12 it read. One of your roommates, Harriet was still sound asleep directly below you, snoring softly after getting in late the night before. She was usually still passed out when you got up in the morning, sometimes not stirring until almost noon (that was normally just on your days off, though).

     You shut your eyes again and tried to go back to sleep, but you knew there was no chance. You were wide awake. You felt jittery for the day ahead, and eventually climbed down the ladder and out of bed and headed to the bathroom, creeping through rows of sleeping girls, some long empty. You showered quickly, and dressed as quietly as you could, before snatching your WICKED ID badge off your desk and tiptoeing from the room. As soon as the door shut, you took off at a brisk walk, heading towards the breakfast hall.

     Breakfast started about seven, so by the time you got there, there were only about four or five people milling around the tables. You tucked your badge under your collar and moved to grab a plate, piling on it some eggs, fruit, sausage. One of the best things about working for WICKED, you thought, was how good the food was. They had access to most of the food banks worldwide, so there was hardly any shortage.

You had only just sat down at an empty table when someone pulled out a chair next to you.

"Hey, can I sit here?"

     The dark haired boy who stood above you plopped down without waiting for a response, smirking over his plate of food.

    "Sure, Minho, go ahead," you sighed, moving your water glass over to make room. "How come you're up so early anyway?"

    "Thought I'd hit the gym before my first class. Sitting at those desks all day makes my muscles real stiff." He unsubtly flexed his arm, grinning widely. You rolled your eyes, suppressing a smile. It wasn't unlike him to be bragging nonstop, but you and everyone else had just learned to roll with it eventually, and after a while, it stopped being so obnoxious.

    "Right, tough guy."

    Minho took a large bite of his scrambled eggs. "So, ew ave an ewly class?" he asked, mouth still full. You grimaced as a piece of chewed egg flew out of his mouth and nodded, scooting away.

    "Um, yeah, for the next week or so. Eight o'clock sharp. They keep telling us it's special and stuff... but I think that's a load of crap."

    "Always the favorite," Minho muttered once he'd swallowed. "Just because of your father-"

    At this, you shot him a hardened glare, and he shut up.

    "I haven't seen him in three years, Minho. I didn't choose to move here."

    A wave of silence passed over you, as you both scarfed down your food; you had to be up in the lab in the next ten minutes, or you'd get your third late mark that month. You suspected they were just a little more lenient because you were so diligent with your work -- normally, you would've been downgraded at this point.

    "If you keep eating that fast" Minho said, "you're gonna make yourself sick."

    You stuffed the last bite of melon in your mouth and pushed your plate away, ignoring him completely.

    "Don't you ever feel bad?" he asked suddenly, meeting your eyes. You scrunched your eyebrows and shook your head to indicate you didn't understand what he was trying to say. Minho clarified, "About all those people? The people who eat like, two meals a week. I mean, we're eating like kings every day, but they have to fight for their food. Shouldn't we be.... I don't know, trying to help more?"

    You shrugged, picking up your plate and moving to stand up. "Minho, we are helping. We're creating a cure to help all the sick people. We're building the world back up again; don't you think that's enough?"

    "Hm, I guess. Anyway, see ya."

    You smiled and waved, before walking away, dumping your dishes, and veering towards the elevator. As you pressed the down button and stepped back to wait, checking your watch as you did so. Five minutes.

    The ride didn't take long, and soon you'd burst through the door and jammed your badge under the scanner with three minutes to spare. A passing man dressed in all white shot you a warning glance, and you bowed your head and rushed to your seat.

Most of the kids were already at their seats as you slipped behind your computer, and Alby, who sat directly across from you, smiled a little.

"Late again, (Y/N)?"

"Wrong!" you cheered. "Two minutes early, actually."

Alby sighed. "I still don't understand why they keep you around."

"Because, I'm their favorite," you shot back with a sly smile.

Alby just shook his head and disappeared behind his computer screen. "I'll bet Thomas will give you a run for your money," he said, voice muffled slightly.

You glanced across the room, to where the older boy was sitting at a table, accompanied by a pretty, long-haired girl. They weren't speaking, just staring intensely at each other, occasionally making faces or flashing each other smiles. You knew full well that they were communicating silently, in their minds; they were WICKED's favorites, and you saw them practice this quite trick often.

As you were staring. Thomas glanced towards you, and you looked quickly back at your keyboard.

"It's a little freaky though, isn't it?" Alby asked. "What WICKED did to them? I mean, why should they be able to communicate anyways when it's easier to just talk?"

You shrugged, knowing full well Alby couldn't see you over his computer. Everything WICKED did, they had a purpose for. You knew that and decided not to question it any further.

227.12.29 / 8:27 p.m.

    It was the same thing every day. Classes. Occasional interactions with WICKED employees. Friends. By the time you'd crawl into bed at night, you'd be too exhausted to focus on anything else. You knew that was probably their intention, to keep you so busy you couldn't focus on anything else, but it was dreadfully exhausting.

    As you lay in bed, arms behind your head, staring at the ceiling, then the blank wall, a sudden longing hit you.

    "I wish we could have windows," you said aloud. It was directed at Harriet, who was laying a few feet away, a book propped against her knees, but she didn't respond. "It's so dark in here."

    And it had been years since you'd even been outside. Seen the sun. Clouds. Hell, you'd probably pay through the nose to see a bucket of dust. Only the people building the maze were allowed outside, and it was considered rough, dangerous. The desert surface was sweltering and the labor was hard and was never something you'd wish to be a part of... but at the same time, seeing the clear sky and breathing in real air, no matter how warm, almost made it sound worth it. You used to sneak outside every so often with Minho, Newt, Thomas, Teresa, Alby, your little rebellious group, years ago. But everyone had quickly learned their lessons, and besides, they were all caught up in work and classes as the completion of the maze grew closer.

    Absentmindedly, you ran a finger across the scar just above your ear, a scar that you'd had for so long it had just become habit to feel the little jagged bump, under your hair. It had been from the surgery WICKED had performed on you when you were no older than nine, maybe ten, implanting some little chip in your brain to monitor its activity. That had actually been the first time you'd officially met some of the kids, Minho, Harriet, Beth, Newt. You'd been allowed to share the hospital room together while you recovered.

    Your friends were the only thing keeping you going in that place, after classes and school, you'd all hang out together in your free time -- now with the allowed company of Teresa and Thomas. For years it involved sneaking around and fake camera loops just to get the group together, but eventually, for some reason, WICKED threw everyone together and allowed them at least a few laughs every once in a while.

    Though you normally ate with Teresa and the boys, you slept in the girl's dorm, or 'Group B' as WICKED so affectionately called them. The two groups were kept completely separate, aside from the boy, Aris, hanging with the girls and the same with Teresa for the boys. You'd often wondered why WICKED let you go back and forth, but they'd just smile and say you had a different kind of clearance, and after awhile you knew you'd probably never get a straight answer. Just that if you shared information between them, you'd be in a world of hurt, and past experience told you enough to keep your mouth shut tight, even with probing questions from friends.

    Rocking in your top bunk, you turned onto your side, sliding your hands under your head and curling up into a ball.

    "Goodnight Harriet," you called to the girl below you, who just grunted in response. "Goodnight Sonya!" Sonya, who slept only a few beds away, smiled softly from her bunk and said a quiet goodnight in return. You pulled your covers to your chin, relishing in the fact that classes would be over for a short time because it was the 'holiday season,' even though no one around WICKED celebrated Christmas, and though work on the maze had been extended, you would get a little bit of extra free time tomorrow to spend with your friends.