This chapter is dedicated to Bogdan

The faint smell of eggs and rice greeted me when I entered the apartment. Jake sat at the table, two bowls of fried rice, glasses adjacent, and a spoon sticking out from the bowl. I sat across from him, slipping off the black and red jacket and hanging it around the kitchen chair.

After exchanging brief welcomes, we began to eat. It was good, not fantastic, but good. Both of us, at points, had tried to start a conversation but found it dissipated relatively quickly. So we opted to remain in silence as we ate, uncomfortably aware of each other's presence.. Afterward, I helped him clean. The dishwasher made things a lot easier but left a brief 10 minutes where we stood in silence.

However, after everything was cleaned and we had put everything away. I excused myself and decided to have a shower. The bathroom was identical to the old ones from my previous apartment. The past few days I had just completely neglected my self-hygiene. To say the least, I was disgusting. Plaque had built up on my teeth, which, luckily, was quickly gone after a much-needed teeth brush.

Half a week's worth of dirt, grime, and blood swirled down the shower drain. Call it gross, oversharing, but it was incredible how clean yet dirty how someone can get after just a few days. I washed my hair with an unidentifiable berry-like scent called Fragrant Dream. I wondered who named this stuff, if one matching day, some poor girl or boy was assigned as 'Shampoo Naming Design' and was responsible for this Fragrant Dream.

After stepping out of the shower and dressing into a soft set of grey pajamas, I decided to see the channels on the television. Considering I was yet to get my tablet yet, there wasn't much entertainment as I had not visited the library lately. Making my way into the living room, Jake had laid my uniform on the chair adjacent to the couch.

Flicking the television, I grabbed the remote control from the coffee table as I sat down. When I was a little girl, my mother only allowed me to watch two channels. Documentaries and Cartoons. Contradicting, but it was safe for me. I always wondered who made the cartoons, the jobs that nobody seems to think about.

Having the ability to finally control the remote and view channels as I pleased felt powerful. It's hard to describe having power so close yet so far from you for 16 years, only to have it now as a common household item. Both metaphorically and literally, holding the power in your hands.

However, choosing which channel I had to pick was more overwhelming than I had hoped. A small weekly television guide was on the table, and each day had over a hundred choices. Mostly news channels, several fiction-based channels, children's cartoons, and documentaries. Whenever you changed the channel, a small square at the top indicated what you were on in three letters and two numbers. This also helped with links to the television guide.

NEW-02, a news broadcast detailing how assignment had gone, the new celebrities that would be on the rise, and which jobs had surprisingly resurfaced. NEW-03 to NEW-11 contained roughly the same content but from various points of view. Some stated the news as fact as if a computer churning out raw data to consume. But others, such as NEW-06, which was run by a petite woman with a round face, tended to lean towards a certain aspect, even occasionally giving their opinion.

After what was listed as the last channel, I switched it again. I flicked the channel to the last one listed, WTR-05, a weather report detailing the cold mornings of early march. There was no more channels listed in the guide. Placing the guide down on the table, I flicked it over again. To see if it would look around, or just if there was anything else.

CAM-01. A still picture of a door, apartment number 16-04 printed on the door. Our door number. Our door. A small time stamp in the corner showed moving seconds. It was live footage.

I never recalled seeing a camera outside, and it wasn't listed anywhere about it. From the shot it must've been above the adjacent door, but I supposed it was just part of security. Not exactly an invasion of privacy. I flicked the channel again, trying to ignore the hairs on my neck which now stood on end.

CAM-02. This time, the foyer of the apartment building. I assumed this specific apartment, as it would be consistent with security cameras. At least this was in a public area. Lights were on, and a lady could be seen typing at the reception. From the angle, I could made an educated guess that the camera was above the elevators somewhere. Again, something I hadn't seen, but cameras weren't designed to be seen. I brushed it off, flicking the channel again, slightly more on edge.

CAM-03. I blinked. My entire body freezing at the sight. Everything was still, aside from the ticking time stamp in the corner. And on the screen, it was a living room. Our living room. With me, sitting down at the sofa, staring at the screen.

The camera must have been somewhere near the refrigerator. I could see my own body tense up. I saw myself looking at the television. I opened my mouth to say something, to shout for Jake. But I was still, unmoving.

I stood up, watching myself on the screen do the same. My whole body lurched and I quickly jammed my thumb onto the power button on the remote. The screen quietly flicked off.

I stood there, an eerie silence filling the air. Thoughts of people watching us filled my head. My mind scrambled for explanations on who could see this, what they had seen. Were there more cameras after this? It made the thought of sleeping in the sofa sound the least bit appealing. I continued to stand there, staring at the black screen of the television and running through what I had just seen.

Slowly, I turned around to look behind me. Just above the shelves on the walls, above the refrigerator. Where the camera should have been. Nothing. Maybe tomorrow, I would get a better look. But for now, I was on edge, ready to jump at the smallest sound. Were this cameras monitoring us?

I glanced at my watch, 10:43 blinking back at me. Although it felt like hours I had been standing there, the timestamp just before had been 10:42.

For a moment, I thought of not telling Jake and just attempting to sleep on the sofa. However, I couldn't get the image of that screen out of my mind. How it was me, sitting on the sofa. The way it felt every moment I was being watched. It seemed with every day in my new life I was discovering more and more about being an adult.

I carefully placed the remote on the small coffee table, checking behind me one last time to see if I could see the camera. Paranoia, if it hadn't already, was setting in. Was it even legal for me to have access to the channel? My breaths quickened, and quietly, I walked down the hallway, stopping at the bedroom. There was a faint light peeking from underneath the door. I paused, before giving it a light knock.

"Yeah?" Jake's voice called out from inside. I breathed a sigh of relief. I held onto the doorhandle, pushing it down and opening the door a crack. He was on top of the bed sitting and reading a book. The lampshade beside the bed was on, the adjacent one was off. His eyes changed to confusion as he saw me, "You alright?"

"Uh, there's a camera in the kitchen..." I said, slightly stepping inside the room. I didn't know how else to say it, and was embarrassed by the fear in my voice. The confusion on his face softened, and he gave me a small smile.

"Yeah, I worked that out when I was a kid. Freaked me out too," he said softly, sitting up in the bed. He folded the corner of the page and closed the book, placing it in his lap. A small part of me was relieved that this seemed to be normal, but the worries had not left me.

"Is it like... watching constantly?" I asked, already embarrassed and knowing I was going to continue to make a fool of myself. He gave me a smile which made me relax a bit. The thought of returning to sleep on the sofa was a very displeasing idea. The thought of returning to sleep on the sofa was a very displeasing idea.

"Not a clue," he said, a contradictory smile on his face. His words made every nerve stand back on end. I paused, not knowing what to say in response. He must have sensed my worry, as he backtracked, "But, if you're wondering, I don't think the government is watching us with cameras. There's just too many people to watch what they're doing in their private time,"

"Then why would there be cameras?" I asked. Jake's words were comforting. I still felt like a child who should have been restricted to two channels. A child that wasn't ready to grow up.

"Come here," he said, motioning towards the bed. At first, I paused, but moments later I shut the door behind me. Slowly, I walked over and sat on the bed, crossing my legs. He turned to me, so we were facing each other. His tone had changed now, and I tried to focus only on his words, "It's to scare us. Why else would they let us simply flick to it on a channel? They want us to think they're watching. Scare us into obedience,"

"But..." the words trailed off. I believed him, I truly did, but the uneasiness that came with sleeping on the sofa still remained. He grimaced, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"Nothing will happen to you, alright?" he said softly, the words making my heart skitter for a moment. He smiled, letting his hand drop. He picked up the book he had been reading. The cover was a soft paperback, a girl with blue electricity was on the front. He asked, "Would you like to read this with me?"

"You mean... Here?"

"Where else?" he said, and smiled at me. Blushing, I paused, as he moved himself under the covers, opening the book and unfolding the top of the page. "Come on, I won't bite,"

I shifted closer, leaning against the back of the bedframe. My arm brushed against his, and my heart jumped. I had gone from a panic to realizing how exhausted I was. However, remembering I was to sleep on the sofa, I remained on top of the covers. He rolled his eyes, pulling back the blankets. I hesitated.

"Don't be stubborn," he said. A weight from my shoulders lifted, and I begrudgingly slipped under the blankets. I shifted myself into a comfortable position, trying to ignore the fact that our arms were pressed together. He turned to me, our faces closer than I would have liked, "Just let me know when you want to turn the page,"

"Alright," I said, and I turned back to the book. He unfolded the page, and the room fell silent. Not a cold silent like before, but a warm protective silence. A silence of piece.

However, I was just struggling to focus on the book. I would read a line, but instead of processing the words, find my mind drifted back to other thoughts. The channels, the cameras, work, Scott, Jessie. But I would simply reread the line, and try and continue.

When I reached the end of the page, I nodded. He turned the page, and we both continued reading. Eventually, I slowly lost track of the story. I would nod when I reached the end, however I hadn't actually processed any of the words. Eventually, the lines would fade together, and I found myself dozing off to sleep.

I woke up to my watch beeping in my ear. Half dazed, I sat up, pressing on the side of my watch. I was somewhat surprised to see I had slept in the bed last night. It was incredible how comfortable a bed is after sleeping on a sofa for two days.

When my eyes focused, I saw my uniform had been moved onto the bed. I quickly changed, slipping the red and black jacket over my shoulder. Jake's watch still weighed down the left side, and I left myself a small mental reminder to fix it for him.

Jake was in the kitchen, humming to himself in guards uniform, waiting for the toast. He smiled when he saw me walking in, and I smiled back.

"Do you think the cameras are watching me make this?" he said with a toyish grin, and I rolled my eyes at him. I began to prepare 90-second porridge.

"Hey, thanks for letting me sleep in there..." I said, and there was a pause. I didn't know how else to say it, although I knew it had to be sad.

"You know, better sooner than later," he said, cocking his head to the side, "Besides, it's our room. I shouldn't have kicked you out on the couch,"

"No, I did deserve it," I said, nodding to myself, "I was a bit of a bitch,"

"Yeah, you were," he said, and I gave him a playful shove.

He grabbed his toast, a grin on his face, and picked up the helmet near the table. We wished each other goodbye, before he left. And after finishing the porridge, I followed after.

When the elevator doors opened, Scott stood there. He did not wear the jacket, just the sweater. We exchanged a brief greeting, before waiting for the elevator to take us down. A small jingle was playing, with some words about pregnancy protection.

Once we exited the elevator, we walked in silence to the train station. A few set of Law Enforcement were at the station, questioning a lady who was sobbing. I wanted to ask Scott what he thought of the situation, but saw he purposefully avoided eye contact.

When the train arrived, we entered onto the same carriage and sat across from each other. He still didn't say a word, and I knew better than to try and start a conversation. He stared out the window, watching as trees and cars flew by.

For a moment, I thought about telling him about CAM-03. But the way he purposefully avoided eye contact, I had the suspicion he didn't want to interact with me. I knew little of him, but I knew he wasn't a nice person. So, I decided to keep CAM-03 to myself.

The words chimed through the train, announcing that we had arrived. We exited, and made our way once again to the small shack. Contrary to yesterday, there was not a sound when we arrived. Scott knocked on the door, and was greeted by Marlin. Nobody else was there.

We continued our work from yesterday, and about ten minutes after Noah burst through the door, his hair a mess and bags under his eyes. He shut the door, not a word nor glance to either of us, and sat down at his table.

Marlin walked over, placing a hand on his shoulder he nodded away. Noah hesitantly followed, and I watched in curiosity. They walked to the corner of the room, Marlin exchanged some words I couldn't hear, and all the colour drained from Noah's face. After a few more minutes, he turned around and sat back down.

"Where's Evan?" Scott asked, and I realized that he was right. Noah gave us a short glance, but quickly continued back to his computer.

"It's his break days," Marlin said, "That means until ya turn 18, ya can leave at 1 when he's not here. Ain't that just lucky for ya?"

"I-I remember when Marlin was my mentor," Noah said, stumbling over the first words, but still continuing, "For me, it was like a four day holiday. My break days are right after his... Marlin you were a really great mentor,"

"Aw shucks," Marlin blushed, red contrasting against his now greying hair, "But ye can't beat Evan. Consider yerself lucky kids, he's a bloody genius..."

"True..." Noah said, and the conversation died off.

I guess it was good that we got to leave early. Maybe I could finally get the watched fixed, or at least do something productive. My thoughts went to the camera incident, whether I really should have told Scott. I believed I trusted Jake, at least, as much as I could.

Instead, I decided to bring my mind to Yasmin. The Lower girl who I had seen slip through on matching day. I knew she was a Lower, she had to be a Lower. After all, what else could explain the mark on the back of her neck?

It was the perfect opportunity, Noah was skittish and distracted, Scott was focused, Evan wasn't here and Marlin was busy working. Dragging the small pointed cursor to the top of the page at a bar, I typed in her name. Yasmin Kerring.

Five profiles showed up. The search results would find wherever the term is found on the database – at least that is what Evan had told us. A man called George, who was her father, and her Mother, which I could quickly identify by her last name. Her match, a young boy with messy brown hair and acne. There was also a woman at the back of the page, one which seemed familiar, but I didn't quite recognize.

I ignored it, instead clicking on her profile. Sure enough, the girl I saw on the screen was her. Fittingly, she had her hair up in the photo, which was taken days before matching day. Why have a hair tie then, but not on matching day? I tried to ignore it, instead searching for any sign.

Her status read Upper-class, not Lower. I kept reading, blinking for a moment, and continued scrolling slowly. I would reach each line of data, then scroll down again, as if scrolling slowly might help hide what I was doing. But it just didn't make any sense, her profile was completely normal.

"What are you doing?" Scott said quietly, and I almost jumped out of my seat. I turned, to see him staring at my computer screen, Yasmin's face reflecting on his glasses, "You weren't assigned that sector. I already cleared 32D. Twice actually, because the first one had an error,"

"Uh, nothing..." I mumbled, closing the profile and removing the search bar, "I was just double checking,"

"I already double checked it," Scott said, shifting his gaze from the computer screen to me. I looked around, but Marlin and Noah were still engrossed in their own work, "Now I'll ask again. What were you doing?"

"Nothing,"

"Don't lie to me,"

"Or what?" I shouldn't have asked. He paused for a moment, shifting the bridge of his glasses up his nose.

"Do you want me to tell them?" His voice was quieter now but held a tone that I couldn't quite place. It made every hair stand on end. I stood up straighter, as he leaned in closer. His voice no louder than a mummer, he said, "If you don't tell me, I'll tell them... after all aren't you abusing government property for your own personal gain?"

He gave a small smile, before leaning back in his chair. I shook my head. I really didn't like him. He crossed his arms, staring at me expectantly. He had cornered me. If he told them I was looking at a profile he had already cleared, I would be marked for suspicion. That would lead to an even further drama, not to mention Charlie and Lillian might be in danger.

I also had to remember everything I did led back to Jake now. If either one of us committed a crime, we would be killed, and the other would become a Lower. It was a delicate system, built on false trust and molding yourself into a shell that doesn't fit.

"So, what's your choice?"