Anyway, when we get together in Reception Hall, it’s so tight our shoulders are almost overlapping. It reminds me of what happens when I try to pack my suitcase to sleep overnight at Allison’s. The thing that makes the entire situation so irritatingly terrible is that Receiver Garry will go on and on and on about how we need to work together to stay happy and alive here in the Tower. He’s also real fond of reminding us why we should keep our thoughts on the skies instead of worrying about the Darkness or why we’re here. Don’t ask questions, don’t doubt, have faith. Yup, that’s Garry, which pretty much makes him my nemesis. Still, I get where he’s coming from.
See, there’s this story. It’s not told each Sevenths Day, but every now and again, we’re reminded of it. It’s really important, apparently. Story goes that the Darkness came to the Tower. When the Darkness came, so did the Creep. Nobody’s sure why, but the way Receiver Garry tells it, the Darkness was a punishment. I don’t know why we were punished and neither does he, but apparently there used to be a lot more of us people and a lot less Darkness. He says we did… something, and whatever it was brought the Darkness. And according to him, the shadows you see when you touch the Creep are the souls of people the Darkness punished. They’re trapped inside it. Forever. So, it’s a sin to think about going to the lower levels. Never mind trying. That’s like saying you want to go back to the things that got us punished in the first place. Instead, Receiver Garry says it’s important to look to the skies. Even though the skies are basically dark and cloudy forever, he says they’ll open up one day. Some of us, people, I mean, were taken out of the Darkness. I don’t mean they came into the Tower. I mean they went elsewhere, above the clouds. Saved from all of this, I guess. Meanwhile, the rest of us were left here. So who took them? How’d they get up there? Kinda reminds me of what Mrs. Bloom said about flying cities.
Some story, but I still don’t know what any of it has to do with that creepy statue in Reception Hall. Anyway, I got to go. I mean, I should spend time with my dad or something. Thing is that as weird as Mom is, sometimes I feel like I’d rather hang around her. Actually I’d rather just spend some time with Allison, and that’s saying something considering our recent argument, but I can’t just, like, avoid my parents. And about Dad, the thing is that even if Mom’s crazy, at least I get that. People go nuts sometimes. Life happens, right? Dad, though… Dad’s something else. With him I feel like he just… vanished. Like those patches of sunlight we get once in a while that vanish when the clouds converge on them. Yeah, that’s Dad. After thirteen, he just stopped being the guy I knew. I remember playing games of baseball with him. He’d make a whole day of it, actually. He’d save up our meat rations, and then one Monday, he’d just surprise me. I’d wake up to the smell of meat patties served on buttered bread buns. Do you know how much he probably traded away to get his hands on those ingredients?
But you know what he does these days?
Nada.
My memories don’t match the current version of the soulless robot I currently call Father that I live with, and sometimes I just stare at him like who are you? Our talks don’t go past “how was your day?” and anytime I try to get him interested in my questions about the Tower, he brushes me off like I’m the village idiot. Let’s not pretend as if he cares about telling me what he does at work. How’s a girl supposed to relate when her dad treats her like a stranger on an elevator?
The part that just gets me is the fact that it’s been years since he started acting like this. I should be over it by now. But you know what? I keep hoping that one day, he’ll come into my room with a hamburger in his hand, pick up the baseball bat that I keep in my room, and tell me to get ready to hit the field.
It never happens.
I want to kill hope, but it hasn’t happened yet. Been at it for a few years. Maybe one day I’ll succeed. Until then… well, I need to hang with him. He’s going to be gone for a while ‘’cause he’s prepping weapons for a big operation in the Deep Creep. Yeah, I can’t believe it’s that time of the year again. Time seems to be really racing by me the older I get.
So, yeah, I’ll probably be busy for a while. Next week is the Scavenging.
Recording Nine
“Good luck out there,” I tell him. He just smiles back at me before he walks off. For a second I feel weak, like my legs are two jelly sticks. It’s not ’cause I have a crush on him or anything. Seriously, it’s not. He’s just… cool, you know? Not just him, I mean. All of them.
Scavengers.
Right, it’s been a while since I recorded. At least a week. A little more, actually, but who’s counting? I’m the only one. Anyway, the guy’s name is Mike. Just plain, ordinary Mike. Nothing fancy. Not a William or Maxwell. Just one word.
Mike.
Okay, so I do like Mike a little more than the rest of them. Sue me! I’ve known the guy for about five years now. Since I was twelve, can you believe that? Dang, life likes to just jump past you. But yeah, Mike. He actually saved my butt once, when I was down on Floor 14. That’s actually when we started for reals talking. I mean, I was only twelve then, so it’s not like he had any reason to chat me up. The difference between a twelve- and a sixteen-year-old’s as big as the space between towers. Anyway, back then I was doing my normal thing, you know? Chilling in the lower halls and exploring the Tower. It was one of the first times I’d ever touched the Creep, and let me say, one of the few times I tried to. I mean, it’s not something you want to make a habit of. Anyway, turns out Mike was down there, too, and that wasn’t coincidence. Cool thing about Mike—the reason I keep trying to talk to him is he’s curious. Unlike a lot of other people I know, he actually wants to know what’s going in the Tower. I mean, c’mon, that explains why he’s a Scavenger now. So turns out he saw me heading below and decided to follow. ’Course he decided to be slick about it and not tell me, probably because he was embarrassed that I had more courage to get myself into trouble than he did. See, even at twelve, I was what you’d call a problem child. No wonder my mother started getting gray hair early. You can actually see it in her kinky curls now.
Well, so, there I am. Floor 14. You start to really see signs of the Creep by that point. It doesn’t cover the walls, but it does kinda come pushing out of the cracks and seams between the floorboards. If it’s creeping out of a seam above you, sometimes it drips this… I don’t know what to call it. Let’s call it moisture. It’s not water. You could call it saliva, but… ugh, no. Anyway, it drips this moist, clear liquid. Now, the liquid won’t make you hallucinate. It will make your skin tingle, and right after, you’ll start feeling your heart’s trying to stage a prison breakout. But, so, I’m staring at this stuff dripping down the walls, and I dunno, decide I should touch it. So I don’t just grab for the moisture. No, that’d be for cowards. Instead, I decide to yank a big freakin’ palmful of the Creep.
Note to anyone that might ever listen to this: Never grab a handful of the Creep. That stuff will mess… you… up. I was tripping balls. I don’t know what other way to put it, because I was literally falling over myself, seeing shadow things everywhere. I was about to scream, but Mike got to me first. Good thing, too. See, Security’s not what you would call “peaches” with people when they start wandering down to the lower floors. They really don’t want you touching the Creep, but they know it’s going to happen anyway. It’s a public secret. Actually, I hear there’s a bunch of people that meet on the lower levels just to touch the stuff and freak out to hallucinations. Security doesn’t care as long as you keep it under control, but—and this is the super-key part—you have to keep it secret. Well, screaming doesn’t help you stay low-key, so I’m pretty sure I would have landed in Reinforcement. Thank God for Mike. Poor guy practically had to tackle me to keep me from running off through the halls and screaming like a maniac. Cool guy—Mike also had to put up with me trying to bite his fingers off while he tried to keep my mouth shut, which basically passes the friendship test. See, it’s the mark of someone you want to keep around. Will they or won’t they risk their fingers for you? So even back then, he was a tough one, old Mike.