"Insanity is a perfectly rational adjustment to an insane world."

 -R. D. Laing

-

"Hold it, Oliver! What happened again? Slower this time, please."

The voice flits through my consciousness first. It has a strange lilt to it, and the foreignness to the sound urges me to crack open my eyelids.

A dull, throbbing pain pounds in between my temples as light brightens my surroundings. I'm laying on my back on some sort of raggedy sofa, which has loose springs and stuffing spilling out. My head is propped up on something cushiony, and my hands are folded neatly over my stomach. Upon inspection, I realize my elbows were split and my palms are scraped. The only wound I can't see is the back of my head, but I definitely feel it's insistent nagging.

"They took Zeke." I double-take. It's the voice of the blue-eyed boy--who the unknown voice had called Oliver. I feel a rush of reassurance that we're both safe here.

Here. As in, the Outskirts. My pulse quickens, and my relief fades as quickly as it had come.

"I don't know why," Oliver continues. "They just took him, Ma. He passed out while I was watching him. His Vitanox was completely dry... he hadn't taken his dose in a few days at least. But when I took him in... the Medics took him away from me."

From where I lay I can make out the blue-eyed boy and a woman, both sitting on rotten wood flooring. The dingy, torn curtains thrown across a small window behind them blocks most of the assaulting light away.

"Oliver," The woman's voice is stern as she speaks. "They just took him back for testing. What makes you think the Medics did anything wrong? It's what they're trained for, you know."

Oliver swallows hard and weakly replies, "Well, she... the Ward was..." he fumbles his words.

The woman narrows her eyes as Oliver gestures towards my body. I quickly shut my eyes, hoping they wouldn't catch me eavesdropping.

"Did she put you up to it? Who is she? Do you even know her name?"

At this, I slowly pushed myself upright, using arms that feel like jelly. Mustering what little strength I have, I rasp, "Ambrosia."

My throat let out the strained words. It was like a frog trying desperately to stay in my esophagus. Their heads snap around to look at me. The woman's finger is still directed at my face. She blinks in surprise and lowers it. Her eyes are blue, like Oliver's, and crinkle slightly at the corners. Her nose is small, and her chin has a determined tilt to it.

Her skeptical face turns into one of worry.

"Are you okay? You must have had a nasty fall to have knocked yourself out. Lucky you, Oliver was there."

Her voice holds several conflicting tones that I try to figure out. Concern, definitely, as she slowly helps me sit up. Warning, probably directed towards Oliver, telling him not to say anything more in front of me.

Oliver rolls his eyes to her antics and swings his blue gaze toward me.

"Are you okay?" He repeats his mother's question. I shrug and lift an arm to feel the back of my head under my mess of curls.

"I think I'm as good as I can be, considering the circumstances. Thanks for taking me in..."

Oliver's mom senses the question in the statement. "Oh, call me Anne, darlin'."

I nod, unsure of what to do. "Well, thank you, Miss Anne. And thanks, Oliver."

My voice stiffens as I say the last part as I remember telling Oliver not to take me to his house. He shrugs and accepts the remark philosophically. What was I supposed to do? the shrug seems to say.

Anne doesn't notice my tone, or if she does, she doesn't show it. She grins and stands, rubbing her hands together. I can't help but stare.

She looks almost the exact opposite of most mothers I've met. For one, she seems to be a lot younger—only in her mid-forties or so, which means she had Oliver when she was younger than the allowed age. I quickly amend the thought.

Younger than the city's allowed age.

She is also much taller... almost Oliver's height. The filthy cargo pants and fitted tank top she wears serve to show off her slim, strong figure.

"Best if I feed you now that you're up," she says, politely ignoring my stares. As she leaves, I take the time to sit up more, wincing as a loose spring digs painfully into my thigh.

"Why'd you bring me here?" I try to speak in a whisper so as to not be overheard, but it sounds more like an annoyed hiss.

"What did you expect me to do, leave you there?" Oliver snaps back in the same way. I open my mouth to tell him that yes, I had expected him to do just that, but he continues before I get a chance to speak. "I'm in the same situation as you. Maybe in a worse one. I was the one who went through that door first, remember? Even if I didn't see the tubes, they saw you tell me."

"They couldn't have—" I start to argue, but Oliver cuts me off yet again.

"They have cameras, Ambrosia. They probably have them all over the place in there. I had the choice whether I would follow you, or turn myself in. I threw my lot in with you, and they know it. We can work together. We can get Zeke back."

I blink a few times, working out what he had said. If he was right, we were both in deeper trouble than I thought. First off, we went into an obviously restricted area. That rebellious behavior alone is enough to land us in a cell for a long while. And while there isn't a clear punishment set in place for people who uncover massive secrets that could topple the government's hold on the population, I'm sure it's a lot worse.

Oliver seems to sense I'm on the verge of agreeing with him. "They could use him against me if we don't hurry," he says quietly.

I bite my lip. I hadn't even thought about that. They could use Oliver's brother, Zeke-- an innocent boy, as leverage.

And they would.

"We have to get him back, then, soon." I can see Oliver's right. I know full well I won't be able to hide without his help. And he knows he can't get Zeke back without mine. We stay together... for now.

His entire body relaxes with relief as I agree with him. I reach into my pocket and pull out my relay, which thankfully is off. It would be trackable otherwise.

"What are you doing?" Oliver asks, sounding more than a little suspicious.

I roll my eyes. "Turning both of us in," I reply sarcastically.

I get to my feet, gripping the back of the worn sofa to keep from falling on my face. I sway for a moment as black clears my vision, and Oliver stands abruptly.

Then, before I lose my nerve, I throw my relay onto the ground as hard as I can, stomping on it for good measure.

I let Oliver help me lower myself back down onto the sofa, my head spinning from the effort. I sigh as I take in the sight of my ruined relay; the screen cracked in several places, the back split open, and several disconnected wires poking out. My relay had been my connection to everything: my family, my friends, the world itself. Breaking it drives in the fact that things aren't going back to normal anytime soon. And while I know it's necessary, it still pains me to do it.

"I hope I don't regret this," I sigh, shaking my head, "Relays aren't cheap."