Cecile had moved up to the bars. She was staring with some intensity.
Flora wasn’t one for silly superstitions. Yes, one needed to be cautious. She wouldn’t go walking through the fever lands, that’s for sure. But this was just a box. How harmful could it be? And Cecile didn’t know Flora had seen more than most Essentialists—that Granger was once a Spoke in a former life. He was just as human as she was, despite being born east of Skyline.
Her only concern was if this Cecile would report her for looking at the box. But then, who was going to believe her? Flora suspected Cecile didn’t want the contents revealed, which meant she might have some leverage if she knew what the box contained—leverage that could, in some way, help her get Granger back.
Flora examined the keypad carefully.
“Good luck with that,” Cecile said. Eventually, she sat back down.
She doubted tapping the keypad would do any harm. She randomly tried a few numbers and pulled at the latch.
It opened.
Cecile shot back up from her bench. “How did you do that? How do you know the code?”
Flora shrugged and opened the cover the rest of the way. In it was a black rectangular object with a glassy surface. She recognized it from books she’d read about Old World times.
It was a smartphone.
According to the curator, smartphones would drain the user’s intelligence and will, imprisoning them in imaginary worlds. It would ensnare them and forcefully divorce them from their rightful marriage to sun, soil and seed. But these were just bedtime stories, scare tactics to get people to listen to the curator and do what she said. Flora didn’t really believe in such nonsense.
Flora pulled the phone out and examined it.
Cecile said, “your chief will find out you tampered with this. I will tell him myself. And the curator as well.”
Flora ignored her and pressed some buttons on the side of the phone. The screen illuminated, and a voice spoke to her, startling her. “Hello, my name is Gail, what’s your name?”
“Turn it off!” Cecile said, becoming more agitated. She seemed desperate to find a way to get Flora to stop. It only strengthened Flora’s conviction.
Flora thought about responding to the phone, but a number of illuminated buttons on the screen had already stolen her attention. One of them said Where Am I?
She tapped on the words and the screen changed to a large map of the Shenandoah Valley. A point and bubble on Grottoes appeared in the middle, the old name for Grand Caverns. She tried to point on the screen, and the map moved. Then she realized she could move the map by pushing on the screen in different directions. She pushed it to the left and could see the past Skyline, into the Spoke area next to the mountains, although it didn’t appear to be labeled properly. A city named Charlottesville was shown, which must have been the Old World name for Seeville.
“Listen, please, you have to turn it off,” Cecile was pleading. “You don’t understand. If it’s on long enough they will come for it. This is the only one we have. It could be incredibly important for all of us, for Essentialists and Spokes alike.”
Flora had to admit—the phone was mesmerizing. She continued to be entranced by the maps going east, west, north and south. These maps looked to be just one thing the phone could do. There were so many other words and buttons.
To humor Cecile, Flora said, “They will come for it? Who, Old World people?” She snickered at the thought.
Cecile yelled. “Retchers, you idiot! Please, please turn it off and put it away. It may already be too late.”
Flora had heard plenty of stories about retchers. Her mother had once pointed to one on a distant tree, but when she looked it was gone. People described them as oversized crows in slumber. They might exist, sure, but a creature that vomits acidic bile? Why would some flying creature go around destroying Old World tech? It was exactly the kind of thing a curator might make up to scare people into subservience. No, Flora reckoned it would be more likely she saw the tooth fairy than a retcher today.
Flora had been nervous about the prisoner at first, but now with her pleading and apparent madness, she no longer feared her. Perhaps she could even use this madness to her advantage. “Sorry, I don’t believe in ghosts or fairy tales,” Flora said, “but I will put the phone away on one condition. There’s something only you can provide me. You would have to keep it completely secret.”
“Fine, what is it, anything! Just turn it off, put it away, and we’ll talk! You have to trust me. The black button on the side. Turn it off, right away.”
Flora thought about pressing the button Cecile suggested but then hesitated. First she wanted a commitment.
“There’s an Essentialist prisoner you have…” Flora began.
Suddenly, heavy rain was pattering on the roof. It made enough noise that she had to speak louder to talk over it. “He’s probably in Seeville. I want your commitment you will… you will…”
Cecile had slunk away from the bars and sat down with her palms against the wall. She was staring desperately at the ceiling. “It’s too late,” she said.
“Why? Fine, I’ll turn it off.” Flora pressed on the button Cecile had indicated, but the screen had already gone dark. “See. You got what you wanted. Now let me tell you what I want.”
“That won’t stop it now,” Cecile said.
The rain was getting louder. In fact, it was sounding less and less like rain. It was no longer rhythmic. It sounded like something was on the roof, something large. It was tearing at the roof.
Could it really be?
Flora heard screams outside, and then there was a great rent in the ceiling as a large beam was torn away. Flora stepped back from the opening as more roof fragments disappeared into the sky. It was as if a miniature tornado had landed right on top of the prison and was boring through the ceiling.
The noise stopped and a great bird creature dropped from the opening onto the floor.
The retcher was exactly as she had heard it described. It was black, but at the same time glossy and reflective, making it hard to stare at. What she could make out was a large, rounded body, half as tall as a man but with twice the girth. It had hollow beige eyes and a pointy beak. Its wings were folded in.
It began ambling slowly in her direction.
“If you want to live, drop the phone,” Cecile said. She was strangely calm, albeit morose, sitting in her cell. She eyed the beast carefully but showed no fear.
Flora’s bravado was long gone. Her hand shook as she dropped the phone on the floor. She moved as far back as she could from the giant bird.
The retcher picked up the phone in one of its talons and appeared to examine it. Then it promptly spewed vomit on it. The phone sizzled and then melted down. Black steam came off it, and a terrible smell of burning metal and chemicals ensued. Flora reckoned the odor must be what Spoke towns smelled like. If so, it was just as bad as the curator described.
After two more bouts of vomit, the phone had completely dissolved. All that remained was gray and beige bile that continued eating into the floor of the prison.
The retcher took a step toward her. For a moment she thought it would vomit on her, but it turned around and cast its eyes toward Cecile. Then, with little warning, it launched itself back up through the roof.
Flora’s hands were still quivering. She tried to calm herself, staying glued against the back wall for some time. It wasn’t until Finch and a few other men ran into the holding cell area that she pushed off the wall and forced herself to adopt some form of composure.