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

The concrete wall suddenly transitioned to glass, and I lifted a hand to block out some of the bright light from the beams on the ceiling, the lift continuing to drag us down. After a moment, the light grew far enough away for me to lower my hand, and I blinked as I took my very first look at Cogstown.

Steel girders jutted out everywhere, some of them making a frame, others ending abruptly in thin air. I could see the wide spaces in between—as if they were their own levels. In some ways they were, thanks to the metal plating that had been welded over the gaps. The makeshift levels were awash with activity. Men harnessed to safety lines climbed girders, while others crossed massive gaps, sliding down a single line. Parts of the open spaces were welded over, creating rickety-looking landings. The landings grew denser as we descended, and I could see more and more people.

There were improvised homes everywhere, but with no doors—open, much like the greeneries, only more chaotic and busy. Hammocks hung over empty spaces, while metal baskets lifting heavy tools rose and fell all around them. I saw one man sleeping while a heavy basket with a spanner half my size swung dangerously close, missing him by inches as it was hauled up.

I stepped out of the shadow of the platform, and made for the light. Girders were rooted to the floor all around us, and the makeshift floors above were blocking out the light, giving the wide space we were in a terribly exposed feeling as we moved forward. We walked for fifty feet before we stepped into the light, and I got my first direct look inside Cogstown.

Great, ponderous machines turned and growled, the gears slicing into shafts of light to create strange shadows as they moved up and down. Cogstown was seemingly built around and over them, catwalks and rope bridges running to and fro overhead, people climbing everywhere. The base of the village was here on the ground floor, with tent huts built around the machines, hammocks inside, and electric cooking elements everywhere, topped with pots or pans. I could see stalls of fruits and vegetables—this morning’s shipment from the farms—and people shopping for supplies, their ration cards out and at the ready.

Zoe whistled as she looked around, spotting one of the vendors with corn cobs. She shot me a glance. “You ever had Cog-style corn before?” she asked, and I shook my head.

“C’mon, let’s see if anyone has seen our man,” she said, grabbing my hand and pulling me over to the cart. “Akkani-kal,” she said in greeting, and I smiled—it seemed her grandmother had taught her some Cogspeech as well.

The vendor behind the cart, an elderly man with rheumy eyes and a slight tremor in his hand, looked up at us, and smiled kindly. “Akkani-ko,” he said, his voice, still strong, coming from deep in his wide chest. “What could bring initiates of two different departments into Cogstown? How did you even get here?”

Zoe smiled and held out her ration card. “One corn cob—and my grandmother is a Cog. She’s given me permission to access this floor for visitation.”

The older man nodded as he pulled one of the sizzling corn cobs from the fire element. I watched him roll it in something ground up on a plate before handing it to Zoe, and realized he had added some sort of spice mixture. Zoe didn’t wait to bite into it, her white teeth flashing.

She made a happy sound and passed the rest of it to me. I quickly finished it, and was amazed by the spicy and aromatic flavors there. It was incredible.

“Just like my nana’s corn,” Zoe said with a smile. “Thank you.”

The old man nodded and returned her ration card, having swiped it. “My pleasure.” He scratched his beard and held her gaze. “Why are you here, Roe?”

“We’re looking for someone,” I said, wiping the grease off my lips and discarding the cob. “He’s about six feet tall, dark blond hair, brown eyes, not wearing any uniform. His name is Grey—Grey Farmless. Do you happen to know him?”

He looked me up and down. “What’s he done?”

I stepped forward, donning a smile. “Nothing that I know of, but I have some questions regarding his whereabouts a few days ago.”

“He in trouble?”

I frowned. This man clearly knew him, but was acting very oddly about giving us the information. I studied him for a long moment, and then realized he was keeping his hand behind the stall, hiding it. I was all too familiar with the gesture—as I constantly felt the need to hide mine.

“May I see your wrist, Citizen?” I asked, hating myself for even pulling that card.

The man blanched, then stuck out his wrist. An orange four glittered there.

I studied it and studied him, then gestured for him to drop his hand. “It’s all right,” I said softly. “I’m honestly not that much higher than you. But you and I both know what it means not to be so low, and what it means if we are of service to the Tower. Grey isn’t a Cog; he’s a Hand. An ex-Hand. Where is he?”

The man looked at me, and nodded. He jerked his head down a path to the left that had multicolored ribbons dangling overhead, diffusing some of the light filtering in from above.

“He’s in one of the private rooms—C19, I think,” he said gruffly. “Living with an ex-doctor named Roark. Cogs-bred, that one, so I’m sure he’s not involved with Grey. Just roommates is all. Grey runs errands for him. Follow the path till you get to the quarters. On the other side of Bellows.” He pointed to the massive machine in the middle of the room, the centerpiece of the market.

“Grandle,” Zoe said to his retreating back.

“Slep krin tuok,” the man replied.

I looked over at Zoe, whose eyebrows rose into her exposed scalp as she looked at the man. “We should go,” she said, grabbing my hand and dragging me down the path he had indicated.

“How could you do that to him?” she asked after she and I had moved a sufficient distance away. “That wasn’t very nice, using his number like that.”

I shifted guiltily. “I know,” I replied. “I didn’t like doing it either, but he was interrogating us, and I got the feeling that he wasn’t going to tell us anything if he didn’t like our answers. But I’m… I’m not very happy that I did it.”

Zoe’s mouth turned down, and she stopped. “I thought it was the return of Princess Prim,” she admitted. “You handled it much more nicely than she would, I think, but still… it wasn’t like you. What information does this Grey guy have that you want so badly?”

“I told you, I can’t talk about it.” For your sake, I added in my head, suddenly feeling guilty for even including her in all of this insanity. What was I even doing down here? I’d already confronted him once today. Now I was going to do it again, with Zoe. She’d know what he looked like—she could identify him if questioned. It put her at risk, especially if they found out that she had met with us. I was fine putting myself at risk, but her? I couldn’t stomach the idea. “You know what? Maybe you should go. You got me down here, but I think—”