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My truths don’t speak, they bleed.

Number 65: How much something hurts.

Khalani had a running list of things she had no control over. What she ate, what she wore, what time she woke, and where she slept.

Hair growing in weird places, like her chin. That one sucked.

But the list slowly turned grittier, like the inability to control being born. Or how each morning Khalani woke up, she was twenty-four hours closer to death. Inescapable truths that grew heavier with each passing day.

Last night, a chilling rendering of Guard Barron forcefully grabbing her from behind and slicing her throat played on a feedback loop. The knife sliced and her blood sprayed across the stone walls. Over and over.

Takeshi was in the nightmare. He stood silently in the background as her life ended in a bloody slaughter. She looked to him for help, but he remained poignantly still, his face set in a grim resignation.

Her mind spoke the truth. Trusting Takeshi would equal her death. He was the Captain for a reason. Now more than ever, she needed to keep her wits about her, or her worst fears would come to fruition. Fears.

Make that Number 66.

“Prisoner 317, you’re assigned to the library today,” George said.

Khalani’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise. A whole week had passed since she’d been assigned to the library. She was worried Winnie wouldn’t request her again because of what happened.

“Another thing.” George studied the electric pad. “We have a small group assigned for Apollo cleanup in a week. These are the prisoners ordered to join.”

Both Khalani and Serene’s numbers were called.

“Stealing some decent food this time,” Serene mumbled to herself and turned to Khalani. “That partly makes up for getting assigned waste duty again.”

“We’ll get to leave Braderhelm?” Khalani’s voice raised in hope.

“Just for half a day to clean up around the city. Under armed supervision, of course. It’s a way to make people believe the Council focuses on rehabilitation, not torture. And to remind everyone of the place they go if they step out of line. You ready?” Serene asked.

Leaving Braderhelm was the specific detail her mind centered on. A few weeks in prison equaled a lifetime. Walking the streets of Apollo wouldn’t free her, but she’d do anything to leave the hollow walls, if only for a few hours.

“Have fun dusting books while I clean up shit.” Serene gave her a salute after they arrived at the winding staircase, making good on her promise to walk Khalani to her afternoon shift every day.

“Someone’s gotta do it,” she joked.

Serene gave her the finger and left.

Khalani knocked on the library door, impatiently fidgeting with the side of her uniform. When no one answered, she banged louder, but minutes passed with no sign of Winnie. She glanced around briefly before trying the handle .

To her surprise, it opened.

The first thing she noticed was the sound of music—a strange melody filtering through the air, completely unfamiliar to her. Frowning, she walked between the bookshelves and found Winnie sitting at the desk, wearing her purple dress.

Winnie leaned forward in concentration, pushing buttons on a peculiar machine. The device, about the size of a small TV and covered in green metal, was old and rusted, with a single sheet of paper placed inside.

Next to it was a sizable brown box with an opaque black disk circling on top. A golden speaker connected to the disk, and Khalani realized the music was coming from the machine.

It wasn’t the recorded pledges each Apollo citizen had to recite as a child, nor the dull, monotonous music played at mandatory town events where they had to endure boring councilmen speeches. It was a woman singing passionately. The sound reverberated across the walls with breathtaking, vibrant energy. The melody started slow and built into a powerful display of raw emotion and fervor.

Khalani stood motionless, as if the woman's voice had cast a spell on her, leaving her in a dazed trance. She’d never heard anything so beautiful, heartbreaking, and utterly captivating.

Her gaze shifted to Winnie, who hummed along with the music, her back to Khalani as she continued pressing buttons on the green machine.

When the song ended, Khalani let out a breath. She didn’t want the music to stop; she wished it could go on forever, endlessly weaving into the space around her.

“What was that?” Khalani asked in a wistful tone.

Winnie turned in surprise and smiled. “Oh, Khalani! Glad you are here! Sorry, sorry! Winnie knows it’s loud.” Winnie leaned over and adjusted a knob on the music machine. “What did you say, dear?”

“What is that machine? I’ve never heard anything like it.” The words rushed out of Khalani, her excitement palpable. She lived in Apollo long enough to know that was contraband .

Winnie laughed, turning fully in her chair. “You like it, don’t you?”

Khalani’s mouth curved up. “I love it, Winnie. I honestly don’t even have words. But how…”

“Winnie got the machine from Charles. He works in the Archives and has a secret old-world artifact shop.” A dreamy look appeared in Winnie’s eyes, and she shook her head as if to wash away her train of thought.

“After Winnie was sentenced here, she managed to have it snuck in, along with this gem.” Winnie rubbed the silver machine adoringly.

Khalani walked over to the mysterious box. “They used this before the Great Collapse?”

“Yes. After years of tinkering with it, Charles got it to work. Before the Great Collapse, they called it a record player. Back when life flourished on the surface, people recorded music on these circular disks, which would play the song back. Remarkable thing. Right now, it’s playing an album from the movie Grease . When I got thrown in here fifteen years ago, Charles was still trying to fix the old television set, so I never got to see the movie. But it’s one of Winnie’s favorites.” Winnie rocked side to side with happiness, her energy infectious.

“You’ve been here fifteen years, Winnie?” Khalani’s eyes widened.

Winnie’s gaze fluttered upward and she started counting with her fingers. “Hmm, let’s see. One, two, three…yep! Fifteen years. Goodness, has it been that long?” Winnie continued to stare at the ceiling, like an intricate pattern resided in the cracks, one only she could see.

Would Khalani be able to survive fifteen years in Braderhelm?

A part of her didn’t want to last that long.

“Winnie, why were you sentenced here?”

Winnie waved her hand dismissively and returned to punching letters on the machine. “Oh, Winnie got thrown in here for having too big of an imagination. You see, my great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather…” She pursed her lips, counting her fingers with each great.

“Not sure if that’s correct. But right before the Great Collapse, my grandfather was a big scientist. Timothy Talbot was his name. Yes, that was it. He was brilliant. Worked on something so grand you couldn’t even dream it. Something unbelievable…” Winnie trailed off, staring at the painting that had caught Khalani’s eye the last time. The one with the man heading toward the strange, imposing structure.

Her eyebrows pinched together. There was something odd in Winnie’s voice as she spoke. Almost a sense of unease, a stark contrast to her usual disposition.

“What did he work on?” Khalani asked.

Winnie was startled out of her stupor. “Oh, nothing. Nothing, dear. Don’t even know why Winnie would say that. A tale of eons past. Winnie would secretly take some of the books from the Archives home with her. Incredible stories. Winnie has a feeling you would like them.” Winnie grinned.

Khalani sat forward as Winnie spoke, her elbows on her knees and hands clutched together, completely enraptured. “What did they say?”

“Everything you didn’t know you needed to hear.”

The statement resonated with how the poetry book enraptured her mind that fateful night. The intricacy and shape of every story, as potent as the blood flowing through her veins, set her mind ablaze, and she relished the burn.

Reading was like sucking in a gulp of air after holding your breath for a lifetime. Or falling in love. Khalani had never been in love, but she imagined that that’s what it felt like. An emotion that gave your soul wings.

“But,” Winnie continued, “someone else at the Archives saw Winnie taking the books and ratted her out. That’s how Winnie ended up here. But the damage was already done. That’s the beauty of knowledge. If it’s remembered, the meaning can’t be fully erased.”

Khalani frowned as Winnie turned to the machine. She remembered it all. The crackling of the fire and the despair nearly crippling her body as the book disintegrated before her very eyes.

“What are you working on?” Khalani cleared her throat, shoving the never-ending torment away until it dulled .

“This is an old typewriter.” Winnie rubbed the faded green metal adoringly. “What they used to make books long ago.”

She blinked in surprise, bending to inspect the odd apparatus. “It still works? What are you doing with it?”

Winnie pursed her lips together and narrowed her eyes at Khalani, as if her soul laid bare. “Can you keep a secret?”

She leaned forward. “Of course.”

Winnie rubbed her palms together in anticipation. “This, dear, will be a complete history of Apollo. Our journey needs to be recorded and preserved, especially the bad parts, so we don’t repeat our mistakes. When we finally return to the surface, this will be our guide,” she finished proudly.

Khalani threaded a hand through her hair. “Oh, you mean if we all go up to Genesis someday?”

A fairy tale for her.

She would take Takeshi’s advice and not even dream or lose herself in hope. No point in extra suffering over something that would never happen.

Winnie waved her hand dismissively. “No, no, silly. Not that cursed dome they call Genesis. I’m talking about the surface. Earth, with the natural, free air.”

Winnie really was crazy.

Khalani would rather be in Braderhelm than have her organs fried on the surface.

“Winnie, I’m sorry, but they said the surface will not be livable again for hundreds, if not a thousand years. Nothing’s up there anymore.” She turned and slumped down in the chair. “The closest we will ever get is Genesis.”

Winnie shook her head emphatically. “You’re wrong! You can’t believe everything they say. The system wants to keep us down. Doesn’t want us to live.”

Khalani rolled her eyes to the ceiling, trying to figure out how to restore logic to the conversation.

“We survive by staying down here, Winnie. The workers who built Genesis died from radiation poisoning. All of them. The destruction on the surface will linger way past our generation. We survive by staying put and waiting it out,” she repeated the words ingrained in her and every Apollo citizen’s head since they were little.

Some people believed the surface was livable again years ago, but the Genesis workers proved them all wrong.

Winnie didn’t yell or protest. Her expression changed to a look of sadness and sympathy.

Why was Winnie staring at her like that?

Like Khalani was the one who was lost?

“I’m sorry they got to you. Made you forget that surviving is not living,” Winnie whispered.

Khalani frowned, opening her mouth in rebuttal but found no words. Winnie’s words sank deeper into her skin. Deeper…

And deeper .

Till they consumed everything.

She was alive. The air she breathed each day attested to that fact. But words failed to leave her mouth. Because she knew they were lies. Even before she was sentenced to Braderhelm, the best parts of Khalani’s life were when she slept.

The harsh truth made her skin prickle. Her parents knew better. Taught her better. They died because they fought for the quality of other people’s lives; for something bigger than themselves. And what was she doing, other than wasting away, waiting to die?

She peered up at Winnie, who studied her intensely with her purple monocle.

For a woman so small, Winnie was still trying to make a difference for future generations, even in Braderhelm. By helping Winnie, no matter how far-fetched the idea, her life could have meaning, too.

Khalani lifted her chin, steeling herself to a new task, a new mission. “I will help you with your book, Winnie.”

“Really?” Winnie asked.

She nodded.

“Oh, this is wonderful!” Winnie wrapped her in a giant hug. “From the moment Winnie saw you, she realized you were more than a pretty face.”

Her lips curved up. “What can I do to help? ”

Winnie rubbed her chin, looking down in thought. “Hmmm. Well, I am due for the next few pages from Charles. Have they scheduled you for a city cleanup yet?”

“I go sometime next week.”

Winnie’s purple dress whirled around as she raced to grab papers on her desk. “These are from the Apollo Council meetings. They meet every month, and the notes are stored in the Archives. This information is vital for my book’s accuracy. You can get me the next report.”

Her forehead puckered. “How?

“Charles.” Winnie’s eyes lit up. “He’s my friend who owns the old artifact workshop and works in the Archives. I’ll send a message to him. During the street cleanup, he’ll find you.”

“How will you get a message to him, and how will he know how to find me? Won’t the guard’s notice?” The words came faster as her anxiety doubled.

Winnie adjusted her monocle and gave her a crooked smile. “Winnie has her ways. Messages travel farther than people can. Don’t worry. He’ll find you when the guards are distracted. Winnie knows you can do this.”

She nodded slowly, not as confident as Winnie but resigned to her role. If the quirky old woman could rebel while imprisoned, so could she. After all, Khalani was already branded a criminal.

How hard could breaking the law one more time be ?