if you become hungry, bathe, and sleep.” He backed out of the doorway and a panel faded into view between us. I placed a hand on it. It was solid. I was confined.
The chamber contained items of food and a folded blanket on a shelf; what looked like a stone bath filled with a clear, steaming jelly-like substance; a block that would serve as a chair; and a hole in the floor that I guessed was a commode. Spherical objects, about the size of tennis balls, extended from stalks at each corner of the ceiling. They resembled eyes, and, indeed, swivelled to follow my every movement.
I stood quietly, then shrugged, slipped off the pitiful remnants of my trousers and boots, and climbed into the bath. The glutinous slime closed over my limbs, tingled against my skin, and sucked the soreness and exhaustion out of me. I put my head back and my eyelids began to droop.
A mellow voice sounded, projected into the room by a means I was unable to identify. “Phenadoor is just. Your status and rewards will always be commensurate with the value of your contribution, whether the latter be material or intellectual. This is an equitable society. Serve it well and you will be well served. Status One can be achieved by all. Opportunities are unlimited. Be unflagging in your efforts. Be diligent in your work. Be conscientious in your actions.”
There was a brief silence before the voice spoke again.
“Phenadoor is efficient. Phenadoor is self-sustaining. Phenadoor is perfect. As a component of Phenadoor, you will be fulfilled, for what you do contributes to the continued welfare of all, and what all others do contributes to your own well-being.”
My respiration slowed and deepened. I slipped into a doze but was jerked out of it by another pronouncement.
“Work hard. Do your duty. Put Phenadoor first. You are important. You are essential. Phenadoor needs you. You need Phenadoor.”
“What I bloody well need,” I muttered, “is sleep.”
“Do not be indolent. Do not be distracted. Do not waste your time. There is no need for recreation. There is no need for imagination. There is no need for art. There is no need for philosophy. There is no need for resistance. The Quintessence knows what is best for you and what is best for Phenadoor. Trust in the Quintessence.”
I made a noise of exasperation. For how long must I endure this nonsense?
“Revolution is a crime. Dissent is wrong. Those who oppose the will of the Quintessence threaten the natural balance of Phenadoor. The Divergent are destructive. The Divergent must abandon their erroneous thinking. The Divergent must submit to the will of the Quintessence.”
A respite, then: “Attempts to reclaim Manufacturing Bays Six, Seven, Eight, and Nine have failed. Two hundred and thirteen Mi’aata were injured by the Divergent occupiers and will join the Discontinued this cycle. The Quintessence thanks them for their service to Phenadoor. Access to Zones Twenty-two and Twenty-three is restricted. The Divergent are ordered to abandon their occupation of those areas.”
I climbed out of the bath. The moment I did so, a warm wind blew through the room, drying me in moments. It stopped and I looked for its source but found nothing.
After putting the blanket onto the floor, I lay on it and rested my head in the crook of my arm. Sleep came in fitful stops and starts. I was repeatedly jolted awake at the beginning of each proclamation then drifted back into oblivion with the voice still ringing in my ears.
For hour after hour, the pronouncements went on, extolling the virtues of Phenadoorian society, promising high rewards for hard work, insisting that only practical pursuits were of any value, and demanding that the “Divergent” give up what was obviously an attempt at revolution.
Phenadoor, far from being a paradise, was apparently a society in upheaval.
Eventually, the door faded and Koozan-Phay stepped in. I sat up.
“I trust you are well rested, Aiden Fleischer.”
“Hardly.”
“No? That is regrettable. Did the proclamations familiarise you with the wonder that is Phenadoor?”
I got to my feet. “You could say that, yes.”
“Excellent. I have good news.”
I raised my eyebrows questioningly.
“I am to take you to the Quintessence immediately.”
He gestured for me to follow and led me out of the cell and back to the silent lift. This time, the doors opened onto a different floor, and after we’d passed along a succession of corridors, we came to a large semicircular portal guarded by four Mi’aata, each holding a pikestaff topped with a blade of crystal. One