the outside

    If there was anything Olivia had learned from her few short cycles as a thief, it was that being recognized was inevitable. There were some people – only a handful, a small group of strangers – who could spot a thief from the next quadrant over. That was how she liked to think of it at least, even if it was exaggerating. And why shouldn’t she exaggerate? It made things more exciting, and that was how things should be as a thief. No point in abandoning the dull reality of a civilian lifestyle if the alternative was just as soul-corruptingly dreary.

    It was because of these people, those few wolves in a world of sheep (and if she was being honest, they all looked the same), that she was always on edge. Always. Just the thought of being recognized as a thief made her heart beat faster and her breathing go shallow, anxiety gripping her consciousness. That would be a death sentence. It was a wonder that she’d escaped before.

    So as the sun beat down on her freckled skin that day, she was expecting all hell to break loose. Not because there was anything specific taking place – no, the day was as ordinary as could be, the same flocks of market-goers circulating the dusty streets and the same din of noise filling the air. There was no reason for her to be suspicious that she knew of, and yet she was. Threats were unpredictable. Sure, she could account for the increased traffic flow of festival cycles and the frenzy of Sweep day, but on a minute-to-minute basis she had no clue what she was up against. Anyone – anything – could be out there lurking in the shadows, just waiting to strike, and she knew it.

    She pressed herself against the nearest wall, curling in amongst the alleyway shadows as a security guard passed by. No, Olivia chided herself in an instant, withdrawing. That’s more likely to get me noticed. Impulsivity be damned, she was going to blend in with the crowd and stay hidden.

    With a quick scan of the perimeter, she dove into the crowd. It was all limbs and heat at first, the jostle of bodies clamoring to get home. For a moment, she struggled to adjust, holding her breath against the stench of sweat, but then it was fine. She surged forward with the flock and measured each step. By the time Olivia reached the corner, she had picked three pockets and gathered two half-used ration cards. At least we’ll all be eating tonight, she thought, images of her recruits – Ryan, first and foremost, then Micah and Isaac – crossing her mind. Then she felt a hand on her, gripping her forearm, and she was yanked out of the fray.

    “What the fuck?” she spat, coughing as she inhaled dust. Her knees and elbows were scraped from the fall and oozing blood. It took Olivia a moment for her eyes to adjust to the comparative darkness – an alleyway, she realized, she was in an alleyway just off the main path – and then it all clicked together. This was the threat. This, right here and right now, was why she’d felt so uneasy.

    Olivia took a step back from the man in front of her, analyzing him with as much efficiency as she could muster. She would never admit it, but she’d been caught off guard and she was frazzled, unprepared. It was all she could do to hold back curses.

    He was tall, much taller than her, at least. That on its own was intimidating. The way that he looked at her – so impartial, like he was examining the day’s rations rather than a living, breathing girl – was even more frightening. She found her thoughts wandering to his baggy clothing, wondering what he could be hiding inside his oversized coat pockets. Thinking about how unnerving it all was, how bedraggled he looked with his unkempt facial hair. Olivia straightened without thinking about it and gave him her most threatening look. Don’t mess with me and I won’t mess with you, she tried to convey, but she was wavering. The silence between them stretched on.

    “I-I’ll scream if you even try to touch me,” she eventually said, narrowing her eyes. The green looked almost black in the shadows.

    He offered her a smile instead, his teeth crooked and grimy. It wasn’t unusual in the least, but Olivia found herself grimacing anyway. With a shrug, he settled down cross-legged on the ground. Olivia didn’t know whether to run or to try and take him on. Or whether he was even really a threat. He had, after all, already had several opportunities to kill or maim her and had taken none of them.

    “That would be bad for both of us, you know.”

    The words startled her, and she clenched her fists harder than before – not that she’d even noticed they were balled at her sides. “Bad for you, maybe,” Olivia replied, tentative. Her voice was weak and she knew it.

    “You’re a thief. If you got the authorities involved in this, they’d string you up by your neck in a heartbeat.” He contemplated her appearance for a second before continuing. “Or maybe they’d let the people you stole from kill you. How much have you got in your pockets? Any more than your own ration card is pretty damning evidence, I’d say. You wouldn’t fare well if you called for help.”

    “Well neither would you,” she huffed. It was a bluff. To the masses, she was more of a threat than he was.

    He shrugged. Olivia pressed her nails into her palm harder. She felt blood welling up beneath her fingertips, but didn’t let up. The pain, however minimal it was, kept her grounded and in the moment. “I’m not going to hurt you, so there’s no point in calling for help.”

    The scowl across Olivia’s face deepened. Her features, often so delicate and feminine, were distorted with anger and frustration. “Then what’s the damn point?” she hissed. “Why would you go to the trouble of pulling me off the streets for a nice little chat? Huh?” Even to her own ears, the shrill quality of her voice was grating. Olivia couldn’t help it, though. It was the stress. Her body was rigid from the tension of it all.

    “You’re a thief.”

    She couldn’t repress her laughter. “Like I don’t fucking know that.”

    “The point being that you don’t seem to… follow the rules. Tell me, when’s the next Sweep?” His eyes glinted through the darkness.

    The answer was obvious, but Olivia thought it through anyway, sure she was being tricked for a moment. “Tomorrow,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest. Despite the humidity, she was feeling cold, the hair on her arms and the nape of her neck standing on end.

    “Do you ever think about what’s… out there? Y’know, past the walls, outside of Alinam and the quads.” He made a broad gesture with his arms, hands brushing the walls on either side of him. “There’s gotta be something, see. And I’ve spent a lot of time thinkin’ about it.”

    “Who hasn’t?” Olivia asked in turn. Her tone was surprisingly casual, light compared to the heavy atmosphere. If there was anything she’d been expecting, it was irritation. She mentally congratulated herself on her small victory. “Now stop rambling.”

    Another shrug. “Lookin’ for like-minded people is all. I… don’t have a pin. Tomorrow’s my last day.” A prickle of empathy wriggled into the back of Olivia’s mind at the words. She pictured herself in his place – then Micah, then Ryan, even Isaac. But no, she wouldn’t let that taint her perception of him. He was still an asshole and she wouldn’t empathize with him, at least not willingly. “Spent my whole life trying to get out, you know. Wasted effort, I guess, but still. I’m just hoping it won’t all go to waste. Look,” he said, withdrawing something from his coat pocket, “it’s all right here in this book. Take it. Do what you will with it. I have no clue what you’ll do – no idea who you are, but this whole thing is one giant shot in the dark. But, well, you know how it is. Might as well make an effort, try to leave some kinda legacy.” The lopsided grin he flashed at her as he offered the book to her was bittersweet.

    Olivia reached out to take it, only to have it withdrawn as soon as her fingertips made contact with the cracked binding. Something about it was… alluring, and she couldn’t quite decide what it was. Disappointment flashed across her features.

    “Promise me you won’t just forget about this. It’s not like this is some big rebellion, but I want to know what’s out there. I won’t, I get it. It’s not gonna happen. But I want someone to make it. If you won’t, then I’ll give it to someone else, another thief, maybe. Someone who catches my attention. Maybe they’ll kill me for it, but I’ll die tomorrow anyways. Not much left to lose anymore, now is there?”

    “I’ll – I’ll do it, yeah,” she stammered, voice cracking as she spoke. Olivia hadn’t realized how dry her throat was until that moment. “I’ll do it.” She didn’t know if it was a lie or not.

    He handed her the book, letting his grip on the cover linger for a moment. It was plain, a thick volume bound with grey cloth, the surface spider-webbed with dust and scratches. There was an inscription there, barely legible, but Olivia strained to read it anyway. It was to no avail. She couldn’t hide her fascination, though.

    “Guess I'll have to trust you on that,” he muttered, and then – almost as soon as he had appeared, it felt – he was gone. Vanished back into the mass of bodies swarming the streets.

    Olivia was almost surprised at his disappearance, but too busy thumbing through the pages to care. They were dulled with age, evidently glossy and beautiful at one point but now yellowed and frail. And it seemed to be handwritten; the elegant script spanned line after line, only interrupted by captivating images of what Olivia could only assume was the outside world. An overwhelming wave of something – self-awareness, maybe, she honestly couldn’t tell – consumed her. Page after page of illustration and notes filled her thoughts. It seemed endless, beautiful and otherworldly compared to the stale air and marketplace ruckus that she knew awaited her once she left the alleyway.

    It was all disappointing, the world. All dull and colorless compared to the knowledge she now possessed. “I’m gonna do it,” she muttered, stashing the book into her pocket. Olivia took a deep breath in, steeling herself in preparation for her return to the crowds. “But first thing’s first.”

    She stepped back into the swarm.