Chapter Text
Robin draws a wristwatch out from under his pillow. The tips of the hands are glow-in-the-dark green, dully luminous points that tell him ten minutes remain until midnight. He pushes back the itchy eiderdown and stands beside the cot. He's fully dressed save for his blazer which lies neatly folded in a narrow desk drawer on the floor. He plumps up his thin pillow as best he can and drapes the sheets over it. From a distance the bed still looks occupied. He spares a glance to check that he has not been seen. The sleeping boys around him have not stirred. His boots make no noise as he walks swiftly down the line of army cots. The air is still and muggy, full of deep breaths and snoring. He slows as he reaches the front of the converted gymnasium. There are only two Minders on duty. They sit at a table, one dozing, the other knitting. A small lantern stands on the table between them, casting a weak halo of blue light. Robin pauses, listens to the quiet clack of knitting needles. There is sudden silence as the dexterous movements of the Minder's hands falter. She sits forward in her chair, squinting into the shadows beyond the lamplight. Robin chooses this moment to step forward.
The Minder's eyes widen slightly as she sees him and she puts down her knitting and makes to stand. Robin strides up to her before she can leave her seat, gesturing dismissively with one hand. He's confident, he's supposed to be here. Without his blazer he can't display his rank any other way. He takes a slip of paper from the breast pocket of his shirt and calmly holds it out to her. She's scrutinizing him now, relaxing.
"Silver Elite is it?" She takes the slip from him and opens it.
"Yes. Minder Kritchley said I was to visit him," Robin replies, speaking low, though not quite whispering as she does. "It's an urgent matter," he adds, gazing over the top of her head.
"I see." The Minder sounds unimpressed, but that's to be expected. Where the Silver Elite are concerned, she's grown used to this stifled brand of cockiness. She purses her lips and hands the slip back to him. "You're to be no longer than an hour."
Robin ducks his head, a token display of respect, and walks around the table to the door, sliding his hands into his trouser pockets as he goes. It's too subtle for her to call him on, but sufficiently arrogant. The corridor outside is marginally cooler in comparison to the enclosed mugginess of the gymnasium. He smoothes the front of his shirt and breathes deeply for a few seconds before taking off again. He heads down the corridor, through a set of double doors and up a short flight of stairs. The musty smell of old floor wax becomes stronger as he passes several empty classrooms. He catches a fleeting glimpse of moonlight spilling in through a barred window; slanted rectangles of watery light striking a desk, and then he's looking ahead. A single door lies at the end of this passageway. He reaches it just as his ears pick up the rhythmic pad of footfalls. An instant later, the door is jerked inwards and he's face to face with a man, a Minder. Their eyes lock briefly, surprise mirrored on their faces, before Robin lowers his gaze and steps smoothly to one side.
"Minder." He lowers his head, staring at the man's black shoes. His fingers curl around the slip of paper still in his hand, but apparently the Minder has more pressing matters to concern himself with, for he walks on without a word. Robin straightens and steps through the doorway. The entrance hall is large and bare, the cream paint on the walls looks faded but clean, the floor too is lacklustre, the varnish worn on the wooden planking. Off to the left is the old office where middle-aged women used to sit managing the school's affairs, answering phones, photocopying documents, tending to students and visitors through a hatch in the wall. To the right are the main stairs, wide enough to accommodate four abreast. There are a set of high windows, though they are fitted with bars and covered in heavy blackout sheets. The only sources of light are two long fluorescent tubes that hang from the ceiling.
Robin crosses the entrance hall. The main door is unlocked, a hairclip sticks out of the keyhole, holding the bolt. Robin pushes the door open, removing the clip so that the lock clicks shut behind him. He hurries down a couple of steps, out from under the brick overhang, then he's on a gravel path, breathing in the dense summer night air.
He sees Raven, standing by a stone gate post. She's partially hidden by the low, twisted branches of an elm that grows behind the wall. Moonlight streaks through the twigs, tangling, bluish across her face.
"Yours." He hands her the hairclip.
"How much time do we have?"
"An hour." Robin peers around the gate post at the drive. Some distance away he can see the rough tips of a forest tree line. "Let's go before the patrol comes this way."
Raven nods and together they walk down the drive, away from the Centre.
The first time that Robin saw Raven at the Centre was on the morning of a Team Day. The students were gathered in the main hall, the boys on one side, the girls on the other. They stood silently in their lines, eyes directed ahead towards the stage where a podium stood. A school shield had once been attached to the front of the podium, but it had been removed, leaving behind a patch of rough, unvarnished wood. One of the Minders, Abrams, slowly climbed the steps up onto the stage and settled behind the podium. Abrams had a thin face; she looked almost skeletal, her flesh hung slackened and saggy, giving her features a permanently sunken appearance.
"Praise to the Master," she said.
"Praise." The students chanted in perfect unison. One voice, a punch of sound, no one was too slow or too fast. Abrams' gaze swept across the room of rigidly still young people.
"This week's Team Day activity is very important. We will be focusing on our inner-vision," she announced in gravelly tones. "As always, you will be assigned your place by a Silver Elite student. Once you have been chosen, accept a sash and stand with the rest of your team. You will then be assigned a room in which to begin."
"This should be good," Ben said in a low voice, looking back over his shoulder at Robin.
"Elite, let's go, take your sashes," Minder Mires called, moving down the line. He caught sight of Ben and Robin and hastened over to them, proffering a bundle of sashes. "What colours, boys?"
In the past, these sashes would have been used for PE lessons, with bats and rackets, balls and hoops. Sides, groups – teams. Robin remembered what these things had once meant, he kept them in the back of his mind like fragments of a language that was no longer spoken.
"Better start rounding up teams," Mires said. Robin gripped his sashes and stepped out of line behind Ben.
The absolute silence that had filled the hall moments before began to dissolve as the teenagers muttered quietly to each other. No longer looking ahead at the stage, their attention was now directed towards the select few students who were moving slowly among them, silver hawk emblems shinning on the upper arms of their jackets.
"D-3 has a new batch of Blind just come in the other week," Ben told Robin as he hitched ten maroon sashes over his shoulder, his eyes darting eagerly about the room. "Think you'll go for any of them?"
"No. Let someone else waste time on the Blind." Robin smiled thinly and hung his own blue sashes across his arm.
"Oh, I don't intend to waste my time," Ben laughed. "You know they give you extra credit for turning the new ones." A Minder standing close by threw him a warning look and he hastily wiped the smile from his face. "See you later, Rob." He strode off towards the front of the hall.
"Hey, Robert." A girl with auburn hair stepped boldly out of line and approached Robin. "Pick me?"
Robin barely looked at her.
"Why not? You haven't picked me for weeks." The girl put her hands on her hips. "I want to be on your team. You're the best and I –"
"You're right, I am," Robin interrupted, and tossed a sash at her carelessly. "Wait at the back." He turned away and walked down the line. There seemed to be no end to the number of hopeful faces that turned to him. He weighed up likely candidates with a detached expression and handed out two more sashes. Halfway down the third row he was stopped by Minder Buckley, a rotund man with a tidy little beard.
"Ah, Robert, I'm glad I bumped into you," The portly man said. "I hear you're forging quite a reputation for yourself. Your sessions are very popular."
"Thank you, sir." Robin's gaze slid away. The number of students who had not yet been selected for a team was fast depleting.
"Yes, and don't think your efforts are going unnoticed." Buckley's head bobbed up and down. "You're affective, that's what I like about you. Pay no attention to those who may disagree with your methods. The Master smiles upon you."
There was a tense moment of silence before Robin caught himself, his eyes snapping back to Buckley's expectant face.
"Praise – praise to the Master," he said quickly. "I'm only doing his work."
"Praise," Buckley replied. "Well, I won't keep you."
"Minder." Robin inclined his head and hurried on before the man could keep him any longer. He frowned when he saw that most of the other Silver Elite had finished handing out sashes and the teams were now assembled in clusters near the doors.
"Quiet now, boys and girls, quiet." Minder Abrams appeared suddenly in the midst of them. "There are still students to be selected."
There were indeed several wretched-looking individuals standing awkwardly about the hall, the rows they were formerly a part of having disintegrated.
"Looks like it's the dregs for us after all," said Ben loudly, appearing next to Robin and patting him on the shoulder in a consoling manner. There was a quiet ripple of laughter from the teenagers standing close by who had heard Ben's comment. Robin looked around and noticed that they were the last remaining Silver Elite without complete teams.
"Come along now, boys," Abrams said, gesturing for them to follow her into the middle of the room. A hush fell once more as the assembled groups turned to watch.
"Form a single line," Abrams called to the sash-less students. "Alright then. In turn, boys."
"Me first." Ben blew out his cheeks, cracked his knuckles and wiggled his head as if to loosen his neck. There was further muffled laughter from the assembled teenagers at Ben's exaggerated deliberation as he paced up and down in front of the remaining students. Finally coming to a decision, he awarded one girl a maroon sash with a flourish. Mortified and relieved in equal parts, the girl half-ran to the back of the hall where she did her best to disappear amongst her team. Ben winked at Robin as he swaggered back to stand beside him.
"You're up."
Robin said nothing but fixed a smirk on his face as he sauntered unhurriedly forward for a closer look at the hopefuls. He worked his way down the line, pausing briefly in front of a short boy who was staring determinedly at his feet. The boy's name was Earnest. He'd had his hands caned the previous day for falling asleep during Cleansing and he'd been made to stand on the stage the entire night as an example. Robin understood why the other Elite had given the boy a wide birth. He was reaching for a sash to hand Earnest when his eyes landed on the girl standing at his side. The shock of recognition froze him in place.
It was her. Raven. There were differences, but it was definitely her. She looked older. Her eyes were black, ink black, and her dark hair had been swept back from her face, twisted up behind her head. The small shard of red stone was missing from her forehead. But he knew this girl. He went and stood in front of her. She gazed impassively ahead, her eyes half-hooded. She ignored him without making it look studied. He blinked, concentrated on keeping his face blank. His hand was steady when he offered her a sash. She took it without hesitation, then left the line.
Robin went to stand at Ben's shoulder once more. The other boy said something, quirked his eyebrow in amusement, but none of it penetrated the strange numbing bubble that Robin now found himself in. He forced a grin for Ben's benefit, then pretended to become absorbed in untangling his remaining sashes.
They picked teammates from the line quickly now, Robin careful to give the outward appearance of consideration while in fact choosing from the humiliated teenagers at random.
"All done," Abrams croaked as Ben wearily awarded the unfortunate last-remaining individual his final sash. "The Team Day activity will now commence." Abrams smiled thinly and the skin around her mouth looked more withered than ever.