A Hole in Time

The Dome - Chapter 9 - Run by a machine?

I finish my dinner in silence, only speaking to tell my parents that we studied mathematics today. I am shocked speechless by what John said. "The Hierarchy will tell us when nuclear wars happens on the Outside." I remember my teacher saying that. I always thought she meant another nuclear war. If war never happened on the Outside, why have not the Designers, or their descendants, come back to free us? A thought hits me so hard, I almost flinch. I remember the video of the family being thrown Outside. The three keys were needed. Nowhere in my history books do I remember seeing that the Designers gave keys to the heads of the classes. 

After dinner, I go to my room and look at my books again. I find the chapter where we are told that the Designers will come back and let us out, but it does not say that the heads of Hierarchy, Unionists, and Healers have keys to open the exit. What if the Designers did come back, but we did not leave? What if the Hierarchy took the keys from the Designers and made them leave? Is this paranoia or am I thinking clearly? Have the Hierarchy trapped us in here so they can rule? 

I keep reminding myself of what Liam said. Two 16 year old kids will not solve all the problems of the Dome. I start to get changed, ready for bed, then I remember that I forgot to mark the c***k in the ceiling. I close the door to my bedroom, cutting off the line of sight from the door handle cameras. It has already grown since this morning and I am afraid to sleep under it. I draw a line from the tip of the c***k to the edge of the wall, so I know if it widens any further during the night. I still sleep on my bed, upside down as I do now, because I figure that the c***k will widen and I will be in the middle, so things will fall either side of me.

I fall asleep as soon as I lay down, feeling safe cocooned in my bed covers. The first thing I register is a noise Outside. My eyes snap open and I focus my hearing on the conversation I know should be there. I am not disappointed. I can hear Duncan talking to his superior about the snow on the street. "Sir, the snow is strange today. It is not like it has been before. It is filled with solid balls of ice. I would say  hail, but it's mixed in with the snow." I can hear the man sigh as he ponders this. My eyes start to get used to the dark, so I get up and move to the window. Like I thought, the man is pacing. "Duncan, this really is hail. One thing that I cannot understand is where is this coming from? I look straight up from here and I can only see the concrete of the Dome. Where is this coming from if there is no hole in the Dome?" 

I file this information in my mind, ready to write into the books later this afternoon. I hear Duncan and the other man start to move off, so I walk away from the window. I walk to my wardrobe and pull out today's clothes. How I am starting to wish that I could wear different clothes. Even if I could just change the colour and still wear the horrible baggy shirt and itchy woollen pants, that would be great. Oh well, I think, there is nothing I can do about it. I pull the pants on and grimace as the waistband itches my belly button. The legs of the pants are loose from my waist to my hips, to allow me to sit down, tight along my thighs, loose around my knees to allow me to walk, then tight again to my ankles. They look strange and feel horrible. My parents, in fact, all the adults, get to wear loose cotton slacks and a cotton shirt. These are pants that school girls have to wear. Hierarchy and Unionist girls wear the same style pants, just in their own colours. 

Our shirts are not much better. It is so baggy, I believe two people could fit into my shirt. The sleeves are long and styled like the pants, loose at the shoulders and elbows to allow movement and tight on upper arms and forearms. The middle part just hangs from the shoulders. The neckline is round and close to the throat. I pull the shirt on and look at my reflection in the growing light. I shudder at the sight, but laugh inside when I think of the boys uniform. Their pants are the same as us girls, but their shirts are much worse. I would never think it would be possible, but the boys uniform shirt is worse than the girls. 

The boys shirt has sleeves that are the opposite of the girls. It is tight around the shoulders, elbows and wrists, but between these tight points, it is loose and baggy. The shirt itself is loose like the girls, but at least the boys get a larger neckline. I think about our uniforms and I almost laugh out loud. Who would put people in such horrible clothes? I know that these uniforms have been being used by school children and cleaned by Unionists for the past 15 generations, but they are horrible. I shrug at my reflection. Staring at myself in the mirror is not going to change my uniform. Everything here in the Dome is run like a machine, so nothing I think is going to change it. I am just about to head downstairs when I stop and listen to my thoughts. 

Everything here in the Dome is run like a machine. What if it is being run BY a machine?