“... as well as being able to move the Rook around the showfloor, we also have the ability to raise and lower the floors themselves, allowing us to bring attention to particular areas.” Duval demonstrated such features by rotating the structure and using a remote to alter its height. She was eager to gauge a reaction from her audience, which stood before her atop a mobile table. Sixteen subjects had been arranged, only three of which were familiar faces to Duval, whereas the others were lifted from terrariums looked after by other overseers. Yet it was Duval that was elected to lead the upcoming showcase, just as it was her task currently to explain the procedures the subjects would be a part of.
Impressions were positive, with nearly everyone awing at the structure presented to them and its unique properties. Nearly everyone -- situated at the rear of the crowd was Sierra, her arms crossed as her attention swayed to other corners of the studio they had been transported to. Not long ago had she been taken here before, a private and improper excursion offered by Duval. The Rook and its neighborhood of fake buildings had changed marginally since that time, and so rather than gasp and mutter about the feature like the others did, she instead looked directly to Duval where their eyes met and their smiles were subtly exchanged.
“But this is just the outside,” Duval continued, her hands clasped together excitedly. “I’m sure you all are interested about what you’ll actually be doing inside the Rook. Let’s all take a look and get comfortable, shall we?”
Sierra’s heart fluttered as Duval approached the wide platform she and the others were on, sensing the minute quakes of every footfall as it traveled up the table. She studied Duval intensely as the scientist wrapped around their positions and began lowering the platform to ground level via a mechanism on the side. While her peers were aflame with discussion about the Rook and the thrill of being able to travel outside the labs, Sierra was fixated on Duval, blatantly staring up at the massive person, her heart thumping the lower the table sunk. She earned an unexpected prize when her staring, she assumed, was assertive enough to make the overseer blush and look astray.
The subjects walked to the Rook’s base as if invited to an exclusive club, the height of such a structure imposed upon them like nothing their shrunken lives had seen before. It truly felt like a real, albeit elaborate building, despite its shortest form standing half as tall as their overseer. Their intrigue continued to rise as they entered the elevator within, but Kendall was jittering with anticipation as she walked alongside Sierra.
“It’s so nice to be out of the neighborhood!” Kendall stretched, relishing the new environment. Her arm swung down, nearly hitting Sierra beside her. “I can’t believe I got picked for this -- and you, too, Sierra!”
Sierra shuddered away slightly while brushing her elbow. “Pretty unbelievable,” she admitted, taking a gander over the other subjects. It was the first time in awhile that any of them had met new faces, let alone with folks equal to their size. Sierra felt especially cramped in the elevator, being surrounded by figures that were notably more fit than she was; athletic builds and confident postures alike belittled Sierra, who knew very well that her acceptance into this showcase was the result of smudged results.
Knowing that, however, was empowering in its own right. When the first floor was revealed, opening to the same physical fitness center that she had secretly explored before, Sierra immediately looked out the window to Duval, her ankles the only part of her in sight. That was her friend, she was reminded, a friend far bigger and more significant than anyone standing inside the Rook. A friend that was willing to bend the rules of her company just for her. As impressive of a structure as the Rook was, nothing interested her more than the giant towering over it.
Said giant’s face was then in full view of everyone after the Rook was risen and she had knelt down. Duval sported a microphone that wrapped over an ear and down to her mouth, too small to hide her grin. “Um, check, check?” Duval tapped the microphone, both her voice and her taps amplified within the Rook through speakers planted all along the inside of the chamber. “Hello~ Wave if you can hear me. Am I coming in clear? Good, good! I’ll be able to communicate to you through this when we’re on stage together.
“But, for now, welcome to the fitness floor!” Duval’s hands spread to her side as if revealing the blue-tinted room they had already entered. Curious subjects were already ahead of themselves poking around the various equipment; treadmills, weights, and other fitness equipment were arranged alongside heart monitors and exercise balls. A swimming pool sized for minor competitive uses was also built into the floor, though it remained unfilled; “Once we get the water generator ready, you can absolutely go for a swim! Err, of course, only if you’re assigned to the fitness floor.”
Kendall peered over the empty pool, hands at her hips. “I forgot that this is all just a… weird performance,” she chuckled, glancing at Sierra. “Where are you hoping to be assigned? I wonder if we’ll be paired up.”
“I don’t know yet,” Sierra replied, pretending to cast interest over the gym’s supplies. “I don’t think we can be a pair, though. Duval said earlier each floor will have a male and a female.”
“Oh, lame. Hah, knowing my luck, I’m gonna end up with Chase.” Only after saying his name did Kendall look back to make sure Chase was on the opposite side of the floor. “I hope I get a fun floor, at least.”
Sierra nodded, wondering the same thoughts as Kendall. She had already lucked out being selected for this procedure and would be spending so much time with Duval, so she had little concern with how else the dice rolled. “I’d like a relaxing floor,” she replied, putting aside how favorable fate had been to her. “One of us is ending up with him, though. I just know it.”
Duval then directed the subjects to continue up the Rook to explore the other levels. The next stop introduced a scene far flung from the one before it; rather than a gym cast in a blue light, the second floor was an illusion of an outside world, with a grassy lawn and stone pathways which connected the various locations. Here, everything was cast in a brilliant green, from the gardens to the plowed lots, and the tool sheds to the empty pond.
Greater than before were the subjects astounded by this new floor, Sierra included. She squinted through the surprising green color, stepping outside into an open stretch of grass. Under her feet was real dirt, and others were quick to point out that the vegetation growing was all genuine. Duval introduced this room as the cultivation floor, a glimpse at what agriculture will be like for a society of tiny people.
The tour continued, each earning unique reactions from the crowd. Subsequent floors included a work floor and commerce floor, chambers that expressed more modern and mundane aspects of life through the perspective of a cubicle office space and a typical grocery store. This concept peaked with the day-to-day living floor, which represented a stable household fit for a shrunken family. Above this was another natural experience, an outdoors floor designed like a forest mixed with both shrunken foliage as well as ordinary flowers, left to be big compared to the little people between them. After this was a return to normality with a floor dedicated to dining, a fake restaurant near the top of the Rook that allowed the subjects to see nearly eye-to-eye with Duval outside.
“Are we gonna get real food?” Kendall was quick to ask, hovering beside a dining booth along the curved wall of windows. She took a seat while Sierra sat across from her, testing the comfort of the setting. The view outside their table was a marvel to behold, though while Kendall looked out across the horizon of buildings, Sierra instead gazed at Duval, whose head bounced around the tower with bubbling enthusiasm.
“You will!” Duval replied over the intercom. The answer was a surprise to Kendall, not having expected herself to be heard. “There won’t be much food, just enough for the demonstration, but everything you see here is intended to be functional. We hope that one day,” she scoffed, knowing it to still be far, “entire societies could actually be living like this! Maybe not in the Rook, specifically, but with all the conveniences of normal-sized life.”
Sierra exhaled upon hearing Duval’s reply, her emotion turned away from Kendall. She would not speak of it, but there was a bitterness that weighed on Sierra with every new floor they toured, and the mention of conveniences tipped her to her own attitude. Though there were many outstanding features that the Rook heralded, none of it mattered to Sierra. Whether it would be a stroll under shady trees or enjoying a date in a five-star restaurant, all of this was inaccessible to her, so long as she dreamed of sharing it with the person she loved. All of these conveniences, truly, had been left behind along with her normal-sized life.
The subjects were then taken to the final and highest floor, a tier dedicated to luxuries and leisure. A purple shade set the tone as a scene of nightly pleasure, as though the volunteers had been taken to a high-class resort. They were in awe of their elegant surroundings, the entire floor a lounge with long couches, a square dance floor, three mini-bars, a pseudo-home theater, and two hot tubs. The open space allowed for maximum comfort, with the design intended to emphasize formal parties of special occasions. The atmosphere was of a lifestyle few participants had ever lived, particularly so with Sierra, who felt largely out of place in this room of decadence and prestige.
Meeting them outside the windows was Duval’s eyes, which were level with the luxury floor when the Rook was extended to its full height. “We expect this to be the most immediately impressive of the floors,” Duval explained, “at least… as far as the investors are concerned. If you ask me, I think the cultivation floor is a much greater achievement…”
The huge eyes then centered on Sierra, who for once seemed immersed with the setting. She strolled alongside the curved outerwall, touring the floor without Kendall following her. It was embarrassing for her to admit, but she was enraptured with the high-class environment. She felt rich simply walking through, admiring the postmodern imagery and the collection of liquor shelved behind each bar. Curious of that in particular, she took a bottle down, only to be surprised to find that it was empty -- all the bottles were just props for the show.
Sierra looked out the window ahead of her after glossing over the pinot noir she had taken. She had felt a concentrated gaze on her, and she smirked upon making eye contact with the overseer. She giggled nervously, prompting Duval to speak over the intercom, “I’m sure most of you will want to be stationed here, but it’s a lottery that decides what floor each person is assigned. We wanted this experience to be as… impartial, a-as much as possible...”
The stutter in Duval’s remark made Sierra smirk as she handled the empty bottle, well aware of just how impartial this process has been. “It’s a shame none of these are full,” Sierra said, as if commenting to herself -- her glance hinted otherwise. “I wonder if someone got to it before we could…”
Duval’s face lifted with a pout, her stare quivering on Sierra. She couldn’t say anything about that tease against her drinking habits, not without drawing suspicion. Instead, she simply poked at the window, gesturing to Sierra with its quiet tap. Sierra muffled her amusement, returning the empty bottle but with her thoughts lingering on it. An empty wine bottle, a prop, resonated within her as a symbol of her conflicting emotions; elegance without substance, a beauty to bewonder and nothing else to it -- a wish for fulfillment.
Sierra was joined at the bar by another subject. Leaning against one of the stools was Chase, his typical disgruntled expression aimed at the shelves of empty spirits. After her glance over him, Sierra returned the bottle exactly where it had been. As she did, Chase sighed and asked, “No chance of us having anything to drink if we’re stuck up here, huh?”
“... I suppose not,” Sierra replied, her head turned away from him.
“Probably for the best,” he muttered, shaking his head. He looked across the tier and all of its luxurious features. “This is already blatantly unfair, isn’t it? Some people get to relax up here all day, while others are going to be working on a farm. Doesn’t seem right to me.”
Sierra bit her lip, but not her tongue. “You could back out if you wanted,” she let slip her thoughts. “It’s a volunteer project. Why’d you come along in the first place?”
“Get some fresh air. Look around.” Chase rotated a shot glass while listing his mundane desires. “You don’t seem very excited, either. Why are you volunteering?”
“Well, I…” Sierra froze; it was not a complex truth that had her hesitate, but its simplicity. “... Duval chose me, I didn’t want to make it complicated for her. And, maybe I wanted some fresh air, too.”
Chase nodded. “Wouldn’t want to upset the overseer, right?” He slid the shot glass back and rose from the stool. “I wonder where she’ll end up putting us in this Rook thing.”
“She said it would be random -- a lottery.”
“Yeah. She said that.”
Sierra’s eyes narrowed on Chase as he left to join the others, his odd tone lingering in her mind. Wondering his implications distracted her so much that she nearly missed Duval’s directions for everyone to exit the Rook through the elevator. The tour was complete, and the Rook would not be seen again until the day of the showcase. Sierra had one week to mentally prepare for the adventure that travelling across the state would be -- a week to wrestle with anxious emotions and ever changing expectations.
The day of the showcase. Preparations began before sunrise. Sierra thought herself to look tired, but Duval seemed entirely sleepless when she appeared before the terrarium with a greeting that forced enthusiasm past the deep bags under her eyes. The first procedure worth the early effort was to load the subjects for transport, of which the other volunteers for the showcase had already been put into. Their homes, being so doll-like, were unlatched from their properties and carried into a large windowed vault where they would be docked securely inside. Referred to as the safehouse, Sierra thought of it as a cage that their homes were shelved into, limiting their freedom throughout the hours-long trip.
The travel itself was steady, yet Sierra still felt sick along the way. The safehouse was stored in the back of a closed truck, watched over by two scientists nearby. She had no sight of the world rapidly moving by outside, but she felt the distance being made, the speed they were going. Kendall and the others were content in their houses or out on their patios, but Sierra wrenched over a sickness on her sofa.
Ironically, it was when they had arrived that the shrunken subjects most felt jogged by the motions around them. The safehouse was taken into a secured room located at the convention center, and from there, they were given small packages containing their outfits, custom made to fit the floors they were assigned to. As such, this was also the reveal as to where they would spend the showcase and what role they would be performing.
Sierra gasped at what was in her package. It was a clean silk dress with matching gloves and footwear, a stylish design fit for elegant occasions. She tried to process what this meant, but her embarrassment befuddled the normal conclusion, that she was assigned to the luxury tier. Even when she accepted that reality, she had difficulty accepting the dress itself. She held it against the jumpsuit her and the other subjects wore, but she could not picture herself in it. Never before had she worn something so classy, and yet she was expected to be an example -- A model, she anxiously thought. Regardless of how she felt, she put on the outfit with an embarrassed grimace aimed at the mirror. She thought the shimmer was too much, that the collar was too low, and the back -- there was no back at all, exposing her skin no matter what posture she tried to take.
Sierra waited outside her home, her arms crossed over her chest as she checked in every direction. She blinked as her eyes darted from figure to figure, searching for the iconic white lab coat and rubber gloves of her overseer among the movements of the stage crew and assistants. Rather than see Duval, she heard her; the clacking of heels, still distinct even in the flustered environment. It was from someone Sierra had glossed over, only then realizing that the woman approaching them was in fact her: Ophelia Duval, appearing not in her work uniform, but a dazzling blue dress with a thin silver line down a flank, her shoulders and arms fully exposed, her wavy dark hair radically done-up and styled with an appealing shine.
Duval appeared far brighter than before, greeting the subjects with a smile as she leaned in towards the safehouse’s window. “Good morning! Er, again,” she said. “The showcase should begin in about an hour. If there’s anything you have left to do, now’s the time to do it!”
As if warmed by tender sunlight, Sierra showered under Duval’s glamorous presence, genuinely stunned by the beauty she witnessed -- not once had she expected a change of attire from Duval, though it made complete sense that she would be dressed for the part of a showcase presenter. Their outfits, to that end, were quite similar in their sparkling elegance, but Sierra could not even compare herself to Duval. In the gown she wore, she felt silly and out of place, especially compared to the clothes other volunteers wore; overalls for the cultivation floor, workout attire for the fitness floor, and other setting-appropriate styles clashed together as one mob of people waiting to be taken to the Rook.
Sierra savored that moment and its peace, knowing it would be fleeting. The process continued at its rapid pace, with Duval guiding everyone into a transport trailer and then moved over to the Rook. Despite being so close to her, Sierra still felt alone and distant from the woman she hoped to share this moment with. While loading into the Rook’s base, a bite of doubt gnawed at her after yet another glimpse of Duval; she would have stayed back with the others and waited for Duval to return, had she known the event would unravel like this. At least, that was what Sierra was telling herself, her eyes always drawn to where Duval lurked out of view.
At the top floor, Sierra stood away from everything, her hands close to herself as if afraid a single touch might break something. Chase was with her, dressed in a tuxedo that appeared purple in the luxury tier’s light, much like everything else. It had earned a scoffed giggle from Sierra that Kendall had been wrong about her luck, but she wondered just how much chance was truly involved with her being selected for the most desirable floor. That feeling of not belonging lingered as she hovered around the furniture, saying nothing to Chase as Chase said nothing to her.
The Rook moved, wheeled forward by Duval’s pull. The whole floor rocked slightly, but it was intelligently stabilized to make movement almost entirely unnoticeable. The jerking motion was enough to upset Sierra’s balance, and so she slumped into a chair by the windowed wall. Despite the movement being the source of Sierra’s dizziness, she was intrigued with the view of the world and how massive everything was. Perhaps the others did not mind as much, but Sierra shivered intensely to see so many normal things backstage, including the people that thundered by, their footsteps lacking the grace and consideration of someone like Duval. Indeed, she was a beacon of reliability for Sierra to observe, her hugeness providing comfort and security whereas all others imposed fear and worry.
The lights backstage dimmed. Stagehands hurried around the Rook as Duval wheeled it. An announcement could be heard beyond the Rook’s walls, bellowing from faraway speakers. Sierra held her breath, and so did Duval -- the showcase was beginning, and the unseen audience was ushered to take their seats. More lights went black and backstage crewmates quieted themselves, making way for a host that would act as the primary speaker. The music that occupied the auditorium faded, signalling the start of the presentation.
Duval kept an arm wrapped behind the Rook, her fingers nervously stroking the glass. Sierra saw as much, glancing to the back of the luxury floor and seeing her long fingers slide and brush along the glass. Somehow, it was comforting to know that Duval was as stressed as she was, perhaps even more so. After all, her only responsibility was to maintain a normal appearance for hundreds to see, while Duval would be in charge of so much more. Sierra was drawn to the back where this hand was, quietly placing her own hand where the pointer finger was on the other side.
“Good luck, Duval,” Sierra whispered. Her eyes went up above, to the intercom speaker hidden in the ceiling. She smiled, wondering if she could be heard by Duval like she was able to the week before. The shiver of Duval’s fingers did not go unnoticed.
The introduction began with the speaker first going over the fantastical concept of shrunken society, listing examples of where this could improve life, the conveniences it could revolutionize. Its lofty description made the idea seem ridiculous, but of course, that was part of the sell. Once hooked, the host passed the conversation onto Ericka Slate, continuing where it had been left off. She spoke highly of Shoote Labs and the sheer genius among its ranks, the incredible work ethic that made “it” possible. She posed it wonderfully, what this “it” entailed, and her smile lured the audience into a wanting applause.
Duval stuttered, “I-I-It’s time! Th-That’s our cue!” She cleared her throat and breathed away the last of her trembling, posing herself as confident and strong with every footstep forward. So obsessed with looking presentable, she nearly forgot the Rook, quickly lunging back to pull it along with her. Sierra chuckled, but her amusement was diminished as the Rook was seeped into blinding stage lights, and drowned by a rainfall of cheering.
“Introducing…” Ericka waved her arm to stage right, as if the one to cast a light in that direction, “... your first look into what a miniature life has to offer.”
Duval stepped out onto stage along with the pillar that was the Rook. She made no effort to bring attention to herself, instead letting the glamor of her dress and the strength of her strut speak on her behalf. Eyes were not directed to her, but the eight floors under her watch, the different colors separating each moment of life from the other. On stage, it was difficult to peer directly inside the windows, but the tiny movements confirmed that there was life bustling about in each tier, and the three giant screens that lined the back of the stage all displayed close-up views of the various people.
Sierra flinched into one of the bars as she noticed the telling purple color appear on one of the massive screens. She feared a camera was on her, but it was pointed onto Chase situated at the other half of the floor, lounging with an empty book in hand. Before long, the camera was onto someone else, but Sierra still trembled, never knowing when and from where she would be watched. Her dizziness was swelling again, and getting even worse, as the Rook began shifting its height and adjusting the gaps between floors.
Each floor was given individual time to be shown off and explained, a few words detailing the aspect of life it represented. Sierra prepared for this moment, but even with as much time as she had, the sensation of being watched hit her with a hard, cold wave. She inhaled and looked around the area she had mindlessly strolled into, her lip bitten as she thought of how to present herself. While the points of a luxury lifestyle were being mentioned and talked aloud, Sierra was stiff, flustered, and awkward -- I’m ruining this, she told herself, I’m ruining it all for Duval…
But a pleasant hum spoke to her from above, a gentle voice that her and Chase both heard. “Just relax and sit down,” Duval whispered, spoken just into the microphone clipped to her. “Anything you do looks perfect. You’re nailing this.”
Sierra unfroze, though her mind went blank while processing Duval’s suggestion. Without delay, she slowly spiralled into a lounge chair, sinking into the plush material and exhaling some of the excess stress. She saw Duval outside, the luxury floor made level with her shoulder. Just that glance of Duval’s lips, or the hair that swung into view, was capable of inducing relaxation into Sierra’s bones. Not realizing that a camera was pointed onto her, she smiled calmly and massaged her back into the chair, depicting the leisurely moment that was desired of her.
“Good job guys,” Duval spoke again, her voice barely audible over the round of applause the Rook had received. “Now for the hard part. Chins up.”
The presentation on stage was moving onto more advanced topics, and so the Rook was taken off the stage floor and down to audience level. Members in the audience, composed of esteemed scientists and investors, were allowed up-close viewings of the tiny people within. Duval was always on guard as she passed by the rows of seats, calm and collected while she knew her subjects were looked over. She read the expressions of those that looked in, the gasps of awe that overtook every single person to witness humans at such a tiny size, thriving in their simulated worlds.
But it was not at all joyous for Sierra, who had since clambered over to one of the bars for support. She was frightened by the many eyes that rushed into view, the countless giants spying into this little world she was trapped in. Her back bumped into the wine shelves, her hand instinctively flung to the bottles to prevent them from falling despite not being the case. The feel of the bottles resonated to her touch, adding to that persistent dizziness with its reminder of alcohol -- she was disoriented, beyond being just dazed or sick. Outside the window, eating at her view wherever she stared, was the grim reality she had chosen. Normal people studied her like some sort of zoo animal, normal people living their normal lives without understanding the weight of their movements, the consequences of every careless action.
Sierra grew faint, and she resided in a lounge sofa for the remainder of the showcase, huddled into a corner while maintaining only the most base level of awareness. Don’t ruin it for her, she scolded herself. This is so important for Duval. She trusted me. Don’t ruin it. These thoughts repeated in her head, only easing on her when she looked out the windows and to Duval. She wished to be held in the hand that managed the Rook, finding greater comfort there than to be locked inside this strange conflict between two realities.
Fortunately for Sierra, the end of the showcase was near. Duval, the savior she was dreamed as, directed the Rook back towards the stage floor. The presentation was formally concluded, but members of the audience were allowed and encouraged to gander at the miniature marvels as they dispersed out of the auditorium. Eyes more eager than earlier were keen on prying into the little lives, acting as one final test of endurance for Sierra. She tried to ignore the giants and how they thundered outside the tower, but not even Duval’s presence could ward off every unwelcomed look. Indeed, some investors were close enough that they poked at the glass, their tapping striking fear into Sierra’s heart as though they were beasts trying to get her.
The last curtain of onlookers was pushed past. The Rook was pulled back onto the stage through an incline and then ushered to the darkness of backstage. Even Duval had seemingly hit her limits, ushering through the crowd during the last leg with a particular impatience and meeting the stagehands with sluggish, tired reactions. She contorted the Rook down to its base height, gently tapping the roof proudly. “Good job, everyone,” Duval said into the intercom. “That was just amazing -- no other way to describe it.”
Sierra exhaled with a smile that crept wider the further away from the stage she and the others were taken. It unburdened her to know that Duval was pleased with the showcase, though she reflected on the matter in hindsight, wondering if she did her part well enough. Was her anxiety-caused slouching really going to win over any investor? The moment felt impeccably revolutionary and yet simultaneously dull and unmoving. She did not quite understand the measure of success, but she believed Duval, like she always did; more than ever, she wanted to console with her and talk, as if this had been another obstacle course or check-up where they could spend time afterwards together.
On the way through the backstage maze, Duval was called over and stopped. “Ophelia, over here!” The friendly greeting came from Ericka, cutting through a pair of stagehands in order to reach her. Sierra felt the rumble of Duval’s superior, though it was a rumble only she imagined, a recollection of how this woman once loomed right over her in a deadly situation. “Exciting presentation, wasn’t it? You did amazing, you looked great!”
“Hah, well… thank you,” Duval replied, her blinks a signal of her flustered thoughts. “Y-You were wonderful, too. The whole team was. Including them,” she giggled, patting the Rook’s roof again, “we were all great--”
“Indeed, about them. I’m headed to hotel security as it is,” Ericka said, her fingers already starting to claim the Rook from Duval’s grasp. “I figured I would see it off and let you get a headstart on dressing down.”
“O-Oh, thank you,” Duval stammered, “but that won’t be necessary.” She moved the Rook and all of its occupants closer to her, but Ericka’s grip was maintained. Sierra watched the scene from her perspective, only able to clearly see the hands and how they grappled the walls of the building. “I’m fine, I-I just need a little water on the way there.”
“You deserve more than just a drink of water,” Ericka giggled, reasserting her take on the Rook. “Don’t make me make it an order -- I have the others waiting at the VIP lobby, a big party in the ballroom is being set up. Lots of investors will be down there, you don’t want to miss these connections.”
“Err, I’m sure I don’t…” Duval sighed, letting the Rook slip from her possession. Ericka was persuasive with her upbeat attitude and, of course, her authority as a supervisor. This was no place for an argument, in any case, and so she was won over. The Rook was pulled from her, Ericka offered a smile of appreciation, but Duval stooped low, keeping the Rook from leaving. “J-Just a moment,” she requested. Ericka nodded, allowing Duval to have her goodbyes.
Sierra felt uneasy about the transition the moment Ericka took over. She paced around a circle of lounge chairs, nervous of something, though she could not quite describe it. Chase, certainly like the others, was nonchalant -- beat and overwhelmed, they cared little about who saw them back to the safehouse. But Sierra wanted Duval, yearning for her through the glass. She went up to the window as Duval knelt before it, hugging one arm as if to console herself.
“It was fun working with you all,” Duval said, forcing a positive expression. She glanced all through the floors, identifying the people she had gotten to know and work with, but she was naturally most attached to the subjects of her own domain. She smiled down at Kendall, then stared into the luxury tier where Sierra and Chase were posted. “I know this was a lot to take in, and it was probably scary. I seriously appreciate everyone’s work, even if no one else understands…”
Duval bit her lip, an emotion only the highest floors had a chance of noticing -- Sierra did, her spirit flinching at the emotion she studied. Before separating, Duval pressed a digit against the glass of the luxury floor. The lone pad of the finger spread across the window, just level with where Sierra stood. It appeared to be a gesture meant for everyone, but the weight of Duval’s eyes weighed on her singularly. The face, as widely sized as it was, spoke to her in silence. Sierra hesitated, but she offered forth her own hand, planting it against the glass with the finger, just like before.
The finger tapped, twice. Little beats, barely producing a sound, but distinct and audible. Sierra shivered as the vibration traveled up her arm, but she kept her hand there. A pause went by, then two more taps. The rhythm was the same, and Duval’s stare seemed intentional the longer it persisted. It came with another hesitation, but Sierra then tapped the glass back, her palm lightly smacking the glass the same cadence. To this, Duval grinned, and she tapped the glass as before once more. Immediately after, she was being twisted out of sight; the Rook was being moved along, navigated by Ericka. Sierra clung to the glass, following the curved wall and the picture of the giant, blue-dressed woman that was pulled away from her.
Duval disappeared, whisked away by her peers and lost behind busy workers. Sierra slumped away from the window, falling back to the tower’s center. Ericka had no words for the people under her watch. The walk to the secured storage room of the hotel was straightforward and silent, without so much as a remark even as Ericka unloaded the occupants from the Rook’s base into the grid of homes within the safehouse. From her patio, Sierra watched as the last of her neighbors were returned, and subsequently, the closing of the glass door that contained them. Ericka soon departed, leaving the safehouse behind with a few dimmed lights behind her.
Sierra wanted to collapse, but as exhausted as her body was, she could not find the peace of mind to lay herself down. Though the couch called to her, she chose to stand, feeling unfit for some time to move beyond where her feet were rooted. She felt like a package, some item from a stockage of others like her, and equally as lifeless as such an object would be. It was these cold thoughts that inspired her to find comfort in her living room, slipping under a blanket and curling into a corner of her sofa until this showcase event was completely over.