The Girl Who Dared to Think (The Girl Who Dared #1)

I shoved my hands in my pockets and headed for the nearest footbridge that connected to the shell, moving fast. The Tower was in dawn mode, the artificial light brightening. I looked over at the east wall as the lights changed, starting off low and rising as the sun did. I paused to watch it, closing my eyes when the light reached the footbridge, the rays pure and warm. I let them heat my face for a moment, taking pleasure in the feeling, as well as the knowledge that it was mine and not hers. Eventually I left, heading into the shell and moving through the service tunnels and access hatches, going nowhere in particular. Everywhere I went people waved, greeting me, asking how I was doing. While I had once been seen as diseased, I was now seen as normal.

Once again I felt Prim’s presence, a stain on my mind, and moved deeper into the passages, taking less-used halls to avoid running into anyone. I ducked back as I stumbled into a group of six men wearing orange uniforms and wielding massive tools, prying up a bit of floor, and forced myself to stop and reconsider how I was going to get around the Cog work party.

“This is madness,” I muttered under my breath as one of them gave a cheerful wave in my direction. How could one little pill affect me so much? More importantly, how was it able to make me work if it wasn’t even me driving? Was this how everyone on Peace felt? The irony of it being called “Peace” was not lost on me, in my current war-torn state, but I let it pass as I headed deeper into the shell, finally finding access to the plunge to get some solitude.

I jumped through the doorway and let my first lash fly, using the plunge to shut my restless mind off and force it to focus on the task at hand. I spun in the air, losing myself to gravity and relying solely on my wit and reflexes to guide me in and around obstacles. When my fall came to a sudden halt, I swung into a doorway, throwing lash after lash at the beams across the ceiling to propel myself forward. The tunnel opened into a huge collection of beams and girders—a section of the shell designed purely to brace and hold the weight of the Tower.

I spotted the glowing green arrows painted on the sides of the beams, following their directions up and to the next access shaft. When I spotted it, I immediately swung myself over it, tumbling in the air and then righting myself so that I was falling feet first. I’d judged the distance correctly, and was now falling through row after row of beam walkways, perfectly positioned in the middle so that I wouldn’t have to adjust my position. My eyes caught a splash of glowing blue paint, and I threw a lash, angling toward it and through the door right underneath, landing on my feet in the middle of a hidden Water Treatment hatch.

My breathing came in sharp pants for a few moments, and sweat was beading across my forehead and the back of my neck. That had been a stiff workout. I waved my hand across my hot cheeks, trying to cool them, and my eyes caught the number on my wrist, instantly grounding me.

Five. Just like that, my problems were back, pressing down heavily in my thoughts to remind me that there was no way to escape. The five flickered, battling with a four, and I shut my eyes and lowered my arm, trying to calm down.

I looked around the room for the designation number so I could figure out where I was, and how I could get to Zoe. I desperately needed to see her, talk to her, hear her thoughts. She was incredibly insightful when it came to things like this, and I could use her practicality right now. It also wouldn’t hurt to have someone tell me exactly what I’d been doing for the last week. Maybe filling in the gaps would help ease some of this discomfort.

I found the room number and quickly began to push through the pipe room, heading for the elevator that was somewhere ahead. As I approached the tall opening, I could hear the sound of rushing water, and realized I was about to cross onto a catwalk suspended over the massive hydro-turbine that supplied massive amounts of energy for the Tower.

I stepped out onto the platform into a mist of water, my hair immediately going damp. The water churned white as the wheel spun at a moderate pace, crashing down to be gathered into the water storage tanks below. This was the first step in treating the water, and there were thousands of ways the water was utilized after it was processed. I didn’t really understand how all of it worked, but, much like the view from the elevator, it was another beautiful sight the Tower had to offer.

I walked down the catwalk, thoughts and ideas running around in circles in my head. When I looked up, suddenly, there he was.

He had one foot braced on one of the lower rungs of the railing, his elbows resting on it as he looked out at the massive waterfall. The water roared all around us, kicking up mist and an occasional breeze, but he just watched it all. His hands were busy cutting an apple, and his mouth moved silently, as if going over a list, or reciting a poem. His nine shone bright blue on his wrist, but his face was wild with expression and unabashed emoting that was captivating to behold. He smiled as if something he’d mouthed was silly. He laughed as if he had some private joke—which I instantly wanted to be in on. It was unlike anything the Tower demanded, and I simultaneously envied him… and desired to know how he did it.

He finally saw me staring at him like a freak, but instead of walking away like any sane person would, he took a good look at me, then smiled.

My heart skipped a beat, and I instantly forgot about Zoe.





8





The smile flickered and was quickly replaced by wariness, and he frowned at me. “I’m still a nine, Squire.”

I shifted, self-conscious. “I’m not here for that. I didn’t even know you were here. I was just—”

He looked at me, his brown eyes reflecting his disinterest in what I was saying, and I broke off. His knife flashed, catching the light from overhead, and he crunched into the fruit, his gaze once again on the waterfall.

I waited for a second, to see if he would say anything, and was disappointed by his lack of interest in doing so. A part of me wanted to just keep walking past. Another part kept me rooted to the spot, reminding me that he had a way to keep me from meeting my current fate.

“I like it down here,” I announced, and that earned me another sidelong glance. He shifted, turning slightly toward me.

“Oh?” It was barely a syllable, let alone a question, but I went with it, just happy to get any sort of response.

“Yeah. Here and the elevators that run along the interior of the shell—where you can see all three buildings from far away. Also outside. Whenever we have to do a repair mission, I like—”

“A view,” Grey cut in. I met his gaze and was surprised to see a lopsided grin there. He slid another slice of apple into his mouth and then offered me a fresh one. “Got this from a Hand up near the Menagerie,” he said, referencing the section where animals were reared.

“How?” I asked suspiciously, even as I accepted the slice.

His gaze was smug as he arched a solitary eyebrow. “Come now, even you couldn’t accuse a nine of stealing,” he said, his eyes sparkling. “A woman up there gave it to me. She was inspired by my ranking, or some such nonsense.”