Omega Point

Today, time has slowed down. I feel as though somebody has thrown me in the ocean and forgotten to give me a life jacket. I feel like I’ve been living underwater ever since.

Frowning, Firenze examined the note, wondering what on earth was a life jacket, how on earth time could possibly slow down and how on earth one could stay underwater for an extended period of time. Most of all, though, Firenze wondered how the hell the note got in her pocket. Sighing, she stuffed it back in the coat and left the apartment, having eaten what seemed like a feast after yesterday’s hunger strike.

There was a woman standing outside the elevator. She was dressed a lot like Firenze, which was rather unusual – she must have been poor. She smiled at Firenze from under her woolen hat, and the wrinkles around her eyes spread like rays of sunshine. It was a real smile. It seemed as though she was truly happy to see the girl, who towered over her by a foot. Firenze smiled back and joined her in waiting for the lift. If anything, a confined, secluded space was a lot less terrifying with somebody else crammed into it.

The doors hummed open and the woman stepped in, with Firenze hot on her heels. As soon as she pressed the button for the first floor and the doors clammed shut, a strange feeling spread itself around a spot on the back of Firenze’s neck, unprotected by the scarf she had woven around her wrist to save time. Breathless, Firenze recognised the prick, though she’d never felt it before in her life. Refusing to turn around, lest the prick turn into a scratch, Firenze watched in a curious horror as a gloved hand wrapped itself around her wrist.

“You will walk with me, and you will be quiet as a mouse.” The woman’s voice was soft, sweet, young, “And you will do as I say, or this knife goes right through you.”

Trembling, Firenze whispered a word of agreement, knowing full well that she couldn’t outrun the old woman.

As soon as the doors opened, the woman clasped Firenze’s wrist so tight, it felt as though it might snap. The girl was left to wonder where on earth she acquired this much energy.

Firenze was led like a dog on a leash towards the exit, where the woman opened the lock in half a second. Terrified, Firenze refused to ask how she’d managed that, lest she angered her more by breaking her vow of silence. Her traitor heart was already beating loud enough to send a blade right through it.

As soon as the two stepped outside, a man appeared on Firenze’s left, and took her wrist, in a much gentler manner than the old woman.

“Morning, Andrei,” the woman greeted.

“Morning, Celine.” Andrei’s voice was deep, thickly decorated with a Russian twang. Celine’s tongue didn’t even sound native.

“Firenze Laskutova, is it now?” the man continued.

The girl looked up at him with eyes rounder than stars, and nodded, expecting release, forgiveness, anything.

“Get in the van then,” he instructed, breaking her hopes, as they stepped up to a heavy old-looking vehicle. A million questions ran through Firenze’s mind – how did he know her name? Was this a planned kidnapping? Would he hurt her? Was he designed to be this tall and menacing? What would happen if she ran? Surely, if the old woman could break Firenze in half, this Andrei could easily shatter her to pieces.

Nobody would help.

Accepting her fate, Firenze gave what could possibly be her last look at the abandoned swing Katya had occupied last night, and climbed the heavy step, followed by Celine and Andrei. Inside, the van was mostly dark, slightly illuminated by the open door. All Firenze could see were the seats at the sides, and what seemed to be a wall at the end, disconnecting the passengers from the driver.

“Sit down,” Celine commanded, and Firenze obliged wordlessly. Never had she felt so humiliated and afraid in her life.

The man and woman sat next to each other, opposite the girl – Andrei leaning over to shut the door. A light turned on in the back, and the engine rumbled to a gentle start, before they took off at a speed unexpected for such a dump of a vehicle.

The van didn’t look much different now than it did in the dark. The only things Firenze could see, that she couldn’t before, were the dark tones of the leather seats and the white walls, as well as a curious-looking metal chest in the corner across from her.

“Now, don’t be afraid,” Celine spoke in a much gentler tone now that nobody could hear her. “We will not hurt you. You can talk now.”

Swallowing her pride Firenze mumbled the question least important to her. “Why did you say you would kill me if you’re not going to hurt me?”

The woman laughed in a high-pitched tone, which would have been warming, had Firenze not been so terrified.

“Well, I had to get you in here somehow,” she explained, finally seeming as though she cared about Firenze’s feelings. “Would you really have come if I asked you politely? Oh please, climb into that van for me, will you darling?” The two giggled, while Firenze squirmed uncomfortably across from them.

“Ah, well,” Celine spoke in that strange manner of hers, “I gotta get this thing off if you’re gonna be seeing me without it for a while.”

Confused, Firenze watched as the woman clawed away at her scarf, before pulling on a loose flap of her skin near her collarbone. Disgusted, the girl drew back as bits of the woman’s skin started coming loose, before realising that Celine was simply taking off a mask. Sighing, she leaned back and watched as the ‘old’ woman’s real face came into view.

No wonder she had so much strength in her – she couldn’t have been older than 30! Her lightly tanned skin was smooth and unblemished, her eyes the same shade of auburn as her bobbed hair. She was truly lovely – high cheekbones, small nose, full lips and all. And yet, she looked so different to Firenze… it was like she was a different kind of human. A more perfect, pure type of human.

Shaking the thought from her head, Firenze continued to watch as the woman wrapped her scarf around her neck again and folded the mask into its tiny container, which she slipped inside her handbag.

“So…” Firenze began cautiously, “Why did you, uh, take me? Where are we going? When can I come home?”

The two adults looked at each other, as though willing the other to speak, before Celine finally took upon the dreaded task.

“We are taking you to a secret organisation in Sector 1, formally known as London, England… You heard of it?” Firenze nodded – her mother once told her that London was the capital of culture, though neither of them ever had the possibility of going. Trans-sector transportation was only provided out of extreme legal issues. Was this an extreme legal issue? Why was she being taken so far from home?

The woman continued, “This is a secret organisation, to which only certain people are taken, but I can not go into that just yet. It will all be explained to you once you get there.”

There was an air of finality in her words. It was clear the woman was not going to answer Firenze’s last question. The girl willed her lip to stop trembling as she imagined a life of never seeing her home again, never seeing her mother. Even that absence seemed terrible now that it was a distant dream.

A sob followed a tear, and in a few moments, Firenze was wailing. The van gave a shake, as though to shut her up, although in vain. Uncomfortable, Andrei turned to the wall, which seemed so interesting now that Firenze was not a pretty site – the only thing Firenze’s mother forgot to perfect was the way she looked when she cried. Remembering, Firenze covered her face in shame, willing the tears to stop. The scarf, which was still wrapped around her arm, dangled uselessly to the floor.

The woman was oddly silent. Firenze looked up.

“We get that a lot, trust me,” she attempted to comfort the girl as she caught her gaze.

Heaving a final sob, Firenze took in the woman’s words – she was not the first and, by the sound of it, she would not be the last. At least that comforted her – she was not just an experiment. Or was she simply part of a prolonged one?

“Why me?” she insisted her questioning. “What do you want me to do? I’m useless!” For a moment, Firenze considered telling Celine and Andrei, who was still awkwardly silent, that she was a Ficial, before changing her mind, lest they decided to hurt her. Was this why they were taking her? Was it a prison for Ficials and Naturals? Was it a concentration camp?

Celine seemed to sense her discomfort. “Don’t worry, we’re not going to hurt you or make you slave for us. It’ll be OK. It will all be explained to you when we get there. I promise.” Celine gave an awkward smile.

The van hummed to a gentle halt, before something clicked and the door opened.

Andrei stood up, stooping under the low ceiling of the vehicle.

“Good-bye Celine, good-bye Firenze.” He gave the girl a prolonged look. “Good luck, you’ll be OK.”

“Bye,” the two women uttered at the same time – one response much surer than the other.

With that, Andrei stepped out of the van and slammed the door shut again.

“Where’s he going?” Firenze asked, frantic, as the van began to move again.

“Home,” Celine uttered and turned away. Sensing Firenze’s inquisitive gaze, she sighed and began to explain: “He was only the bodyguard. He’s not really a part of the organisation. We agreed he would accompany us to the border of the sector, then he would leave.” Celine turned away again.

Border? How would they get across the border? Maybe the patrol would force the driver to open the door and Firenze would jump out, screaming and begging to be taken home. Yet, her question was soon answered.

“I need to pee,” she demanded, willing for at least a break from the stuffy old space.

Celine smirked, before reaching for something in her bag. “Is it that urgent?” She lifted her eyebrow at the girl.

Firenze nodded.

Celine grabbed something and spoke quietly into her enclosed fist. In a matter of seconds, the van was on the ground again, and the door opened. Outside, there were trees everywhere. Trees and snow, nothing more. She was in the middle of a forest. That’s how they were unlawfully crossing the border. Feeling hopeful, she gave Celine a quick glance.

“Don’t even think about running. There is nowhere to go, as you can see.”

Firenze gave a small nod, before exiting the vehicle.

Celine’s call was like a mother’s behind her. “Now, don’t go too far!”

Refusing to turn around, Firenze headed off in a random direction – there was no sign of an obvious exit anywhere. She was walking slowly, gaining their trust, wading through the snow, finally tying her scarf around her neck. When she reached a tree far enough from the van, she turned, and gave one look to the black speck she could now see.

Taking her place behind a tree, Firenze crouched, without taking off any clothes. When she was satisfied that an air of legitimacy was achieved, she got up and ran.