The Perfect World (The Perfect World Series Book 1) (4 page)

This morning was a shower day, which occurred every other day. On shower days, Ms. Linda would come to his room a little earlier than usual and escort him to the bathroom. Once there, she would usher him into a room with a white tiled floor with gray drains scattered underneath the small gray shower heads. There were four shower stalls in total, but Cyrus always showered alone and only in the first stall by the door.

Once he entered the room, the water to the first stall turned on automatically. Ms. Linda handed him a small bottle of shampoo to use on his hair and a bar of soap and instructed him to clean himself within the five minute time frame provided. Cyrus hastily entered the cold water, knowing that it did indeed shut off on its own after what he considered to be a very short period of time. He scrubbed his thick messy hair with the shampoo and struggled with the slippery soap until time was up.

Ms. Linda laid a towel out for him, and when the water shut off, she raised two fingers in his direction.

“Two minutes, Cyrus,” she reminded him, as she did every other day. “Two minutes to dry off and put your clothes back on. Then, we’re heading back to your room.”

“Yes, Ms. Linda,” he responded and quickly complied with the instructions provided. One morning, Cyrus had decided he would try to take longer and see what happened when the two minutes was up. The result was him being dragged along by Ms. Linda through the hallway stark naked. After that, he followed the rules.

When he was finished, Ms. Linda gathered up the shampoo, the soap and the wet towel. Where she put these things when he was finished with them, he never knew. Of course, he asked, but she didn’t answer him. There was nothing but silence as she escorted him back to his room.

As the door shut behind him, Cyrus heard a familiar sound. In the recent weeks, Cyrus had begun to take notice of a different voice. This voice didn’t come from his computer, and it didn’t belong to one of his floor mates. As a matter of fact, the voice came from above him.

Both Cyrus and Ms. Linda turned their eyes to the ceiling as they heard the voice. Cyrus couldn’t make out the words it said, but the sound made him feel like there was something wrong with it. The voice was usually accompanied by a couple of thuds that stopped after a moment or two.

Ms. Linda’s lips pursed together as she turned her stern gaze to Cyrus. This was the first time she had heard the voice, and she didn’t seem pleased. “How long has this been going on?” she asked with her finger pointed towards the ceiling.

Cyrus shrugged. “I don’t know. I think it’s happened for three weeks.”

“Three?” Ms. Linda’s voice rose a little, and Cyrus quickly backtracked.

“Um, maybe it was two,” he said, not wanting to be in trouble.

Ms. Linda’s eyes lost some of their intensity. She turned her face away from him and seemed to be studying the ground. If Cyrus didn’t know any better, he’d say she might have seemed sad. In spite of that, all she said was a carefully guarded, “I see.”

Cyrus tilted his head, wondering at this new tone. Trying to make things better, he brightened considerably and said, “The voice doesn’t sound happy. Maybe I could talk to it.”

“No.”

Ms. Linda’s answer was so stern that Cyrus actually jumped a little in surprise. She had her eyes pinned on him, and her expression was surprisingly fierce.

Cyrus stepped away from her, his back pressing against his bed. “B-but, if I talk to it, maybe it will feel better.”

“No!” Ms. Linda repeated again fiercely. She walked up to him, lifted him on his bed and then knelt down until she could look him in the eye. “No, young man. You will do no such thing. You are never to speak to this voice no matter how much you want to. Do you understand?”

Cyrus wanted to speak, but he found his voice was stuck in his throat. Instead, he nodded and Ms. Linda placed her hands on his shoulders. Her gaze was still fierce, but there was something new beneath it. Something he could not place.

“I know you want to know why. You always want to know why. I also know that because you want to know why, you often disobey me. You can’t do that this time Cyrus.” She gave him a small shake. “Not. This. Time. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ms. Linda.” His reply was subdued, but more importantly, it was sincere. Ms. Linda studied his face and must have decided he was telling the truth because she got back on her feet and collected her trash bag.

“Good. I will see you in the afternoon.”

Then Ms. Linda was gone, and the lock on the door clicked behind her. Once she was gone, all Cyrus could do was look at the ceiling and listen to the wailing voice above.

For the next few days, the voice from above would return. Occasionally, it would return when Ms. Linda was in the room. His stern caretaker took no notice of the voice, or if she did, she ignored it completely. Cyrus never asked a single question about it, and Ms. Linda never talked about it.

Next week came, and the voice became quiet. Cyrus would perk his ears up to listen for it, but he didn’t hear it. Cyrus had just begun to wonder if it had disappeared when it reappeared again, louder than ever. The thuds accompanying the voice became more frequent to the point where even Ms. Linda couldn’t pretend not to notice.

Her dark eyes turned to the ceiling, seemingly against her will, only to return to the floor and stay there. She had come in for her afternoon garbage run and had done her best to ignore the voice. Now, Cyrus watched her curiously as she gazed at something only she could see. Cyrus opened his mouth to ask, but as soon as Ms. Linda noticed the gesture she glared at him. His mouth snapped shut, and she continued about her business.

Cyrus thought about it no more until the evening after Ms. Linda had visited him for the final time. The lights to his room shut off on their own after she was gone, coaxing him to sleep. He laid his head on the pillow and was about to drift off to sleep when the voice from above returned. It was louder than ever, and it sounded extremely unhappy.

Cyrus sat up in his bed, feeling annoyed. There was no way he was going to sleep with that noise going on. His five-year-old mind was doing its best to figure out how to solve the situation when the voice abruptly stopped.

His green eyes went to the ceiling in curiosity as a new sound took its place. It was a heavy sound, like the thuds from earlier, except they were rhythmic.

Footsteps?
Cyrus wondered in his head.

The heavy sounds came to an end, and there was silence again. Then he heard a sound like a click that reverberated from the ceiling. Seconds after the click, the voice was back. Cyrus had never heard it sound like this before. It had sounded unhappy before, but Cyrus had no words for what it sounded like now.

Cyrus gripped his scratchy sheets in his small hands, wondering what was going on. The darkness around him was filled with tension as the voice grew louder, and he heard the sound of someone scrabbling, their feet pounding against the floor. The voice followed the movement. His eyes bore into the ceiling as if they could see through the solid layer above him if only they tried hard enough.

The heavy footsteps returned, heading closer to the spot where the voice from above was. The voice grew louder, and suddenly Cyrus realized that he could make out a few words as the darkness grew all around him.

“No!” the voice said again and again. “Go away! No!”

The heavy footfalls stopped. The voice moved again until it was near the window in his room. It continued to speak out, its sound sending chills through Cyrus’s body.

“No! N—”

The sound of a loud boom echoed through his room. The voice disappeared, and something fell down against his ceiling. Then silence.

He waited for the voice to return, but it never did. Instead, he heard the sound of heavy footfalls going out of the room and disappearing. Then the silence returned.

Cyrus gripped the sheets tightly and shrank back down onto his bed. His eyes were wide, and his body curled into a ball. He didn’t know what happened, but the air in his room felt so cold. The silence pressed in around him, taunting him as he tried to close his eyes. He wouldn’t sleep that night.

The next morning, Ms. Linda found him sitting up in his bed, tired and restless. He was still gripping his sheets in tight fists. Ms. Linda met his green eyes briefly, a strange look in her eyes as if she might have understood what had happened. Before he could ask, her eyes turned away, and she went about her business. Like everything was normal.

Cyrus didn’t speak to her or during any of his group lessons for the rest of the week. He only spoke during his computer lessons and even then it was difficult for him. His eyes would go to the ceiling of his room from time to time, wondering how the voice from above had disappeared.

Over the next two weeks, Cyrus’s shock had begun to dissipate, though he still thought about the voice from above every time he went to sleep. Today, however, the incident was far from his mind. In fact, Cyrus was bouncing on his bed when Ms. Linda came in to check on him that Saturday morning. He was actually excited to be awake for once, having something to look forward to for the day. To deal with some of his pent up energy, he had taken to bouncing on his fold out bed, something his caretaker had always scolded him for whenever she caught him at it. The short woman immediately frowned and put her hands on her hips. Cyrus got the message and stopped bouncing so high, though he still did let his feet rock back and forth. He folded his hands together behind his back and put the most innocent face on that he could muster as his attendant approached him.

“Come now, Cyrus, what have I told you about jumping on your bed?”

“That jumping on your bed is for monkeys, and I’m not a monkey,” he replied in a tone that said he had heard this particular line one too many times.

“That’s right,” she said with a prim nod of her head. “Now, let’s get you out of those pajamas and dressed for the day.”

“Ms. Linda, can I ask you a question?” the young boy asked politely.

“Yes, Cyrus, you may. What is it?”

“Why do monkeys get to have all the fun?”

Ms. Linda blinked at him and, again, the corners of her mouth twitched, fighting back a smile. She lifted him off his bed and placed his feet on the linoleum floor before she answered him.

“I don’t think that monkeys have all that much fun, Cyrus.” Ms. Linda pressed his clothes in his hands in a way that he took to mean get dressed and no funny business.

“How can they not have fun? They get to jump on beds, and that’s lots of fun!” the young boy told her as he pulled on his purple shirt.

“Monkeys don’t really jump on beds, young man,” his caretaker said as she took out her key and opened the cabinet above his sink.

“But you told me they did!” he exclaimed in protest.

“It’s just an old saying that we use to teach children how to behave. It’s just a way of telling you not to act like an animal.”

“Then why not just say that?” Cyrus questioned, letting a bit of confusion show in his tone.

“We don’t say it like that because putting something so bluntly isn’t always the best way to get them to do as you want,” Ms. Linda responded with authority, though it was clear to the bushy haired boy that she was trying hard to control her facial expression.

“Enough questions,” his attendant told him firmly. “The sooner you clean yourself up, the sooner you and your class get to go see the animals.”

That last bit was enough to get Cyrus to be quiet and finish getting ready for the day. Once a month, their group class went to the animal shelter near their building and got to look at all the different animals. Ms. Amelia explained that dealing with animals would help them develop their compassion, which meant understanding other people’s feelings, so it was important for them to go. 

He brushed his teeth and combed his hair as quickly as he could. When he presented himself to his caretaker, she sighed at him and pulled the comb out of his hand.

“Really child. I know you’re excited to leave, but that’s no excuse to leave your hair as a big tangled mess. It looks like a bird’s nest. Remember, anything worth doing is something worth doing well.”

“Is that like the monkey thing?” He scrunched his eyes as she pulled on his hair with the comb. “You know where you say something because you want someone to do as you want.”

“I suppose so,” Ms. Linda replied in a strange tone. At least, Cyrus thought it was strange because it didn’t sound serious or completely matter-of-fact. It sounded like she found something he said funny. Maybe he’d said something weird?

“Did I say something wrong?” He couldn’t help but ask as she continued her struggle to tame his wild hair.

“No, you didn’t,” she said firmly. “When you’re young, you say things that you would never say as an adult. You don’t get that kind of honesty after a while, for better or for worse.”

“Why not?”

“Because …” She trailed off as she combed a particularly tough knot out of his hair. “Because adults have rules for speaking that children don’t. When you’re older, you’ll understand that being honest is not appreciated.”

“Why?”

“Because there are things that some people don’t want to hear, and you shouldn’t say to them.”

“Why?”

“Because it would make them feel bad.”

“What if it was something important?” Cyrus pressed, wanting to get to the bottom of the matter. “What if they really needed to hear it?”

“Even if it was, positive feelings are what’s most important,” she said with a sigh. “If it made the person in question feel bad, then no matter how important you thought it was, it can’t be said.”

Cyrus opened his mouth again, but Ms. Linda gave him one of her no-nonsense stares, and he shut it quickly.

“No more questions,” his caretaker told him authoritatively. She put the comb away and locked the cabinet above the sink. Wasting no more time, she walked over to the door and opened it to let herself out.

“We’ll be leaving soon. Just wait here patiently until then,” she instructed him.

“Okay, I will,” the young boy said agreeably. “Thanks, Ms. Linda.”

“You’re welcome child.” Her response was almost cut off as she closed the door, and the lock clicked behind her.

Once she was gone, Cyrus was left wondering what he should do until the field trip. There really wasn’t much for him to do. He pulled the stool over from the sink and placed it underneath the window sill. Getting on it and standing on his tiptoes, he was able to look out his window into the big world beyond.

It wasn’t much of a view really. His building faced another one that was just as tall as his was, and he couldn’t see much around it. All he could see were tall buildings around him and a strange glowing light through the cracks of the buildings.

Cyrus had pestered Ms. Linda about this glowing light for weeks until she had finally given in and told him what it was. The light belonged to something known as a quarantine dome. It was a place that people were taken when they couldn’t live in the perfect world system any longer. Cyrus had asked her why this was, but that was a question she would not answer.

The quarantine dome often changed colors on the outside. One day it would be blue, another day it would be red, and yet another day it would be purple. Cyrus was disappointed to see that the light was glowing a dull white this morning.

Looking down and away from the dome, he saw nothing but an empty street below him. The sidewalk would occasionally have a line of people walking somewhere on it, but that was about it. The concrete street was cracked, and there were holes in it. There were a few trees in the middle of the road, marking the only living things he could see in the area at the moment.

Tired of looking at empty streets and lifeless buildings, he hopped off his stool and went back to his bed. Flopping down, he stared at the ceiling as he often did when he was passing the time. His mind would wander to the things he had done in the day, the week or anything he felt like really. It was times like these that he really wished someone else lived with him. Someone he could talk to all the time. Someone who he could always count on to be around.

Cyrus closed his eyes and decided he would rest until the others were ready. Merely intending to rest his eyes, he ended up taking a short nap. He was shocked awake when the loud click of the lock opening reached his ears. He jumped in surprise before realizing that it was just the lock and that it was now time to go. All his excitement from earlier returned as he filed into line with his fellow students. He loved visiting the animals. When everyone was settled, they followed Ms. Linda down the stairwell.

Once they reached the bottom, they turned right out of the stairwell, then went out a pair of double doors into a glass hallway. Ms. Linda took them left, and they all followed her in silence. A minute later, they reached another pair of double doors that served as the front entrance. Their caretaker pressed a silver button that opened both of the doors and walked out of them onto a concrete pathway. The children followed her to the curb where a gray van was waiting for them. The van had no windows except for two in the front. Ms. Linda opened up the back for them, and they arranged themselves on the benches inside the van. The floor was a white color, though it was so dirty that the kids could hardly tell that it had ever been white. Once they were all settled down, Ms. Linda closed the doors, and darkness fell over them.

Ms. Linda sat in a seat towards the front of the van, and the children waited patiently until they heard the sound of the engine coming to life. The van began to move, and they knew they were on their way to their destination. It was completely silent as the van moved down the street to take them to see the animals. Cyrus fidgeted a bit in his seat, wishing the van would go faster.

Finally, after what seemed like ages to Cyrus, the van slowed down and came to a stop. He immediately jumped down from his seat, wanting to get to the door.

“Cyrus!” Ms. Linda barked, causing him to flinch. “Sit back down and wait for me to open the doors.”

“Sorry, Ms. Linda,” he muttered as he sat back on the bench. Feeling embarrassed, he felt someone pat him on the back. Curious, he looked to his right to see the shorter boy who sat next to him during group discussion. The boy smiled at him and shrugged his shoulders. The smile was friendly, and Cyrus couldn’t help but smile back a little.

Their caretaker moved forward briskly and opened the doors for them. Hopping down from the van, she instructed the bench in front of Cyrus to come toward her. They obeyed, and she picked them up and placed them on the ground one by one. When they were on the ground and standing in their line, Ms. Linda beckoned the other bench to come to her and proceeded to do the same for them. With the last boy out of the van and in the line, Ms. Linda shut the doors to the vehicle and led them to the stables.

They entered the facility through a brown gate which their caretaker opened for them. The ground was covered in bark chips in some places while other parts were solid dirt and mud when it rained. Cyrus loved to squish through the muddy patches whenever he got the chance, though he got the feeling Ms. Linda didn’t like it when he did that. The stables themselves were made out of wood, with big gaps between the gate and the ceiling that the horses and other livestock could put their heads over.

Standing beside each of the pens was a guard with black armor. No one could see their faces with the dark helmet covering their heads. They always stood stock still. Cyrus tried to remember if he’d ever seen them move and couldn’t think of an instance where he had. 

Ms. Linda stopped them as they got in front of the first stable. She split them into two lines and had the front of the line go up to the second stable to get their instructions. Cyrus and his line waited outside the stable until one of the animal caretakers came forward to get them started.

The man who approached them was a thin, older man with grayish-brown hair. His skin had a nice tan to it because of all the work he did outdoors. Despite his small stature, his arms and legs were both taut and wiry. His face was weathered; his brow furrowed as he talked, and his eyes were a steel blue. There was an undeniable toughness about him, and Cyrus felt certain he didn’t want to make this man angry.

“Morning class.” The man’s voice was deep and had a bit of a growl to it. “My name is Mr. Vale, and this is my corral. I take it these children have been here before?” he questioned Ms. Linda as she stood quietly to the side of the class.

“They have,” she said with no inflection.

“Good.” He nodded his thanks to her before turning back to the class. “Then all of you know the drill by now. Each of you will be given a brush first to help clean the horses. You’ll continue brushing these animals until I tell you to stop. Understood?”

Everyone nodded their assent, and he pointed into the pen. “Go on, now. Remember to walk quietly and absolutely no talking. If you spook the horses, you’re the one who’s going to pay for it.”

Without another word, the children walked quietly into the pen. One of the horses looked their way as they came in, but most of them ignored their presence. They circled around the stable until Mr. Vale assigned them to a horse. It was two children to a horse, and Cyrus was paired up with the shorter boy who had sat next to him in the van, which made him happy.

Cyrus then looked at the horse they had been given. She was a mare with a brown coat, blonde mane and tail, with a white patch right before her tail and black and brown spots dotting it. Thinking she was very pretty, he petted her side up and down, thus messing up the hair and placing it back down. He continued doing this until he was tapped on the shoulder, and Mr. Vale handed him a brush. Taking it, he waited patiently until the remainder of the class had been given the tool and waited for the signal to start.

“All right, now that all of you have your brushes, you may groom the horses. Remember not to push too hard or be too rough. Gentle strokes will do the trick,” Mr. Vale said as all of them began brushing their horses. “I’ll be walking around, and I will stop everyone if I see there are too many problems. Try to make sure I don’t have to do that, okay?”