The Steamroom

All she could do was run. And, honestly? She was surprised she could do even that.

She had ditched the shoes a long time ago. It wasn't worth the effort to keep those stubborn flats from slipping off her feet. Though she did miss them; rocks and twigs were no replacement.

Her dress, now torn and tattered, threatened to slip off her shoulders. She struggled to stay upright as the hem kept catching on her knees. In a huff of annoyance, she grabbed the bottom of the flimsy gown and lifted it up as she ran.

God, I hate dresses. Why had she worn one again?

She found it odd how calm she was. She was running for her life, sure. Yet she had the time to question her choices of apparel. Stress makes some people panic. It makes others focus. And it made her…well, she didn’t know.

She methodically bobbed and weaved through the dense layers of honeylocust trees ahead of her. She knew exactly where she was going. She’d been in this forest her whole life. She knew every tree, every rock, every vine, every cluster of roots and blade of grass, as if she had handpicked each speck of dirt herself. To challenge her in hide and seek or tag here was a mistake only a fool would make. The Tekmen could never find her when free time was over, and it took ages for even the Kingpin to rein her in when the issue was inevitably brought to his attention. But this time it was real. Thinking of the consequences of losing this “game” made her mind switch back to her shoes and her dress. It seemed her mind was distracting her from the truth. And she was quite thankful for that.

Her legs burned. What she would give for a warm bed, or a cool glass of water. She was one of the fastest runners in her bracket, but her stamina was terrible. In the end, that’s why Kingpin Ravan always managed to catch her. She needed to stop to breathe, and he knew that.

She couldn’t afford to stop this time. No matter how much her lungs begged her to. She started to wheeze as she hopped over a large boulder. The clank and chiff behind her, occasionally followed by the snap of a tree branch, reminded her that she couldn’t dare slow down.

A flash of color appeared in her peripheral vision as she flew past a particularly large tree, and her chest tightened. Angelina. The young girl’s sweet voice rang in her ears, just as it had a week ago.

* * *

“Look, Sparrow! Come look! I made a fairy house! Come looooook!” The child tugged at Sequoia’s arm, her pigtails bouncing with excitement.

“Okay, okay, Angie! Show me your fairy house.” She was almost knocked off her feet as the six-year-old took off toward the trees, her tiny hands still wrapped around the older girl’s wrist. Sequoia laughed as she was guided between the trees, Angelina’s small legs barely able to match the speed of her thrilled little mind.

The two stopped in front of a large honeylocust tree near the edge of the forest, which covered nearly a third of the Isle. Sunlight streamed past the few trees bordering the open meadow, competing with the brightness of Angie’s face.

“It’s right here!” She stooped down to the roots of the tree they’d stopped in front of. At Sequoia’s feet was a pile of sticks, rocks, leaves, bottlecaps, and dried mud. The twigs came together at a point, forming little huts around the tree’s twisting roots. Clumps of mud held the twigs in place, and little rice-shaped leaves stuck out of the muck here and there. Blue, green, and white bottle caps were placed both inside and outside of the huts, filled with rocks, water, and more mud. Sequoia crouched down next to Angie and smiled.

“That’s very nice, Angie! Do the fairies come to visit?”

“Only at night, when we’re sleeping. I can hear them sometimes! They go whrrrrrr.” The girl’s face scrunched up in concentration as her tongue bounced around in her mouth.

Sequoia’s smile disappeared for a second. That wasn’t the sound of fairies, or some sound pulled from a kid’s imagination. That wasn’t a sound the young girl should have heard at all. But she seemed oblivious to the concern on Sequoia’s face as her whrrring sound evolved into blown raspberries, followed by a giggle. A sigh escaped the older girl’s lips as her concern melted. The child had heard the sound before. That didn’t mean anything. In the middle of the night, they could be heard, if one was listening closely enough. But she hadn’t seen anything. She was safe indoors, every night. She was too young to even know the stories. Sequoia hoped that she lived a long time before she ever heard them, or even worse, experienced them herself.

The girl tugged at Sequoia’s pant leg. “Can you bring me another bottle cap from the cafeteria?” She pointed at a circle of caps in front of one of the huts, where there was an empty spot.

Sequoia pressed her finger to the girl’s lips. “Whisper, remember. I’m technically not supposed to sneak anything from the cafeteria, even a bottle cap.”

The girl nodded furiously. “Okay,” she said in what was still a very loud whisper, “can you bring me a red one?”

The older girl nodded back.

“Thank you, Sparrow!” Angie’s arms wrapped around Sequoia’s waist.

“You’re welcome, Angie. Just make sure you don’t tell anyone about your fairy houses but me, okay?”

“Okay.” The child bounced back through the trees, continuing to imitate the whrrring of her fairies.

* * *

There had been no red in the tree’s roots as she zipped past the pile of color. She’d never gotten the chance to honor the girl’s request. Anger burned in her chest along with the pain as she willed her legs to keep moving. She had to keep going, if only for Angie’s sake.

It’s a game. It’s just a game. Treat it like any other game. She sucked in a breath. One tree whizzed by, and then another. She’d played plenty of games before. Even ones with high risks. And she’d won. She always won! She just had to win one more time. That would be easy, right? Jump, bob, weave. It was darker than she was used to, but still she traced the footsteps of her previous selves, the path overgrown but well-worn into her mind. No friend, no Tek, not even the Kingpin had followed her this far. But yet, she couldn’t find it in her to smile. She should be proud that she made it this far. A bragging right for sure, if she made it out. But something told her it wouldn’t last.

She noticed a dip in her speed and let out another burst of strength. She grumbled as she felt the burn in her legs. That burn traveled up her torso and settled in her lungs, where each raspy breath exited her throat with a wheeze. Go. Go, go, go. Go!

* * *

“Go, go, go!”

Sequoia bolted across the open field, headed towards the trees. Cheers echoed on either side of her, members of her bracket clapping or throwing their hands in the air. She clutched the wooden crate she was carrying closer to her chest and continued past them.

“Sequoia! Stop!” A Tek called after her.

His voice was met with boos and laughter. Sequoia slowed down and turned around for a moment, grinning.

“Make me, then!” She took off again, and another round of cheers followed. She dipped between the first row of trees as she heard several footsteps angrily chase after her. The footsteps quickly faded, however, as the Teks struggled to find a proper path between the honeylocusts. Sequoia had picked a difficult route to trace on purpose.

In front of her, she could see the tops of cattails swaying in the gentle wind. A few more strides and she leapt over a fallen log before arriving in a small clearing. In the center was a pond, its water dark and filled with water lilies. The flowers themselves hadn’t started blooming yet, but many vibrant green lily pads had spread around the pond. She slowed down again and turned to face the trees, where two Tekmen were making their way towards her.

She hoisted the crate above her head and stepped backwards, towards the pond.

One of the Teks noticed what she was doing. “Sequoia, don’t you dare—ack!” The Tek tripped on something and his head disappeared behind the brush.

“Hm? Did you say something?” She took another step back and leaned to one side, the crate resting on her head. She could feel the edge of the pond just past her heel.

The Tek’s head popped back up from the ground. “Don’t—ugh—You!” The other Tek had picked a path through the dense forest and was just behind the log before the clearing. Now was the time to make her move.

“Don’t do what? Oops!” She leaned farther, and the contents of the box began to spill into the pond: nuts, washers, nails, screws, wrenches, hammers, pliers, leather gloves. She tilted the box further, and out poured a series of differently-sized metal sheets, pipes, and gears. She then lowered the box, right as the Tek hopped the log and made it into the clearing.

“Oh, did you want this?” She offered him the box, shifting it to reveal the empty bottom.

He angrily slapped the crate out of her hands. “Your report: fifteen minutes.” The Tekman spun on his heels and stepped back over the log, ignoring the tree branches that smacked him as he tore back through the woods. His friend seemed to notice him and attempted to catch up, stumbling miserably. Sequoia couldn’t help but laugh.

After a few moments, she picked up the crate and made her way back through the thicket, much faster than either of the two Tekmen. She grinned widely as they finally made it out of the forest.

“Did you enjoy the hike, boys?” Sequoia sent them a condescending wave. Others had gathered around her, mirroring her stance and expression.

“Oh, lay off,” the Tek in the front grumbled, “or I’ll add your attitude to the report.”

“Go right ahead,” she retorted. “For some reason, I’m not all that worried.”

“You—!” The other Tek tapped his shoulder, and he took a deep breath. “The consequences will catch up to you someday, I swear. You better watch yourself.”

Sequoia simply shrugged and walked away a few strides before setting the crate on the grass upside down and straddling it, lightly drumming on the top.

The chorus of appraisal soon followed:

“Did you really make it?”

“Ha! I knew they wouldn’t catch you.”

“That’s Sequoia for you! None of us would have had a chance.”

A shadow crossed over her, and she looked up to see a teenage boy, her same age, gesture at the crate with a raised eyebrow. She nodded and scooted over, and he perched himself on the edge next to her.

“The Sparrow strikes again, huh?” He glanced at her with a soft smile.

“They didn’t stand a chance. Teks in the forest is a joke.”

A few others sat down in the grass next to them, while the rest of the crowd dispersed to enjoy what was left of free time.

“And Kingpin’s verdict?”

“Report in fifteen. Though they’re wasting their time; he’ll probably just put me on kitchen duty again. That barely takes up half of free time. And if you’re sneaky—”

“—Which we all know you are—”

“—Then kitchen duty is just an extra lunch period. With more desserts.”

“Practically an improvement on free time, if you ask me.” He chuckled.

“See? Vega gets it.” She elbowed him softly.

He nudged her back. “If only you weren’t the only one who could get away with it.”

A girl sitting in the grass chimed in. “Yeah, I would’ve been too afraid of getting sent to the Steamroom.”

Murmurs echoed throughout the group at that.

“Shh, don’t mention it, or you really will!”

“It doesn’t work like that, idiot!”

“The Tek’s could still send you in if they hear you spreading rumors.”

“The Steamroom isn’t even real, quit being such a baby.”

“Then where do people go??”

“I dunno, man! And I don’t wanna find out!”

“What’s the Steamroom?” A timid girl in front spoke up.

A few people gasped.

“You don’t know?”

“Lucky you, best if you don’t.”

“Well, you’re gonna find out eventually, kid.”

“She’s too young to know!”

“Like you were any older when you found out.”

“Hey!”

“Alright, alright, alright!” Sequoia held up her hands. The group quieted and looked up eagerly at her. A spike of pride went through her chest every time she commanded a group like this. Even the Teks couldn’t get a room to silence as quickly. The Kingpin could, sure, but he led through fear, not respect.

“What’s your name?” She pointed at the girl who had asked the question.

“K-Kira.”

“And what bracket are you in?”

“3618-B.”

Three brackets beneath Sequoia. That made the girl thirteen to fourteen.

“Eh. That’s probably fine. You wanna hear the story?”

Kira eagerly nodded.

“Alright then.” Sequoia sighed. “According to the rumors,” she put emphasis on the word, “if you go outside at night, then you’ll get sent to the Steamroom. If you get sent there, you don’t return in the morning.”

“Aw, c’mon, tell it with some flair.”

“There’s more to it than that!”

Sequoia crossed her arms. “Hey, I’m not a storyteller. The thing’s probably not even real.” More protests bounced through the gathering. “Tell it yourselves, then.”

One boy from the crowd spoke up. “It’s this huge, metallic behemoth. It’s got big, red eyes, and it sounds like whuf whuf whuf.” He outstretched his arms, indicating its size. “The Teks will trap you outside with it if you break the rules.”

“What? No. It’s called the Steamroom, dummy. It’s a place.”

“Where is it then?”

“Under the Isle.”

“That’s not a room!”

“It’s still a place! I bet Sequoia would know, she’s been there.”

“If Sequoia had seen it, then we wouldn’t have to argue about what it even is, hm?”

“Hey, don’t drag me into this.” Sequoia leaned forward and rested her elbows on her lap. “And I haven’t been under the Isle, just up to the edge. Jeez, no wonder you guys can’t keep a story straight.” Sequoia rubbed her eyes and sighed. “Anyway, I haven’t seen anything out there, but you can definitely hear it.”

“Even during the day?”

“That must be where the beast sleeps!”

“What does it sound like?”

“Clanky.” She shrugged.

“No, describe it!”

“Clank, clank, clank.” She rolled her eyes and propped her head in one of her palms. The crowd let out a soft boo. Aaaand here we go. She loved the attention of the crowd when it meant showing off her skills or publicly humiliating the Teks. But save for a few snippy remarks, she wasn’t one for leadership through words. That’s where Vega shone best. And he’d gotten his cue.

“Any of you ever stayed up past lights out?” A nod or two, a couple of murmurs. “Next time, once you’ve settled in for bed, listen closely. Wait for the Teks to call out their last rounds. After all the lights have gone out. Then, stay quiet. Stay absolutely still. Be patient. Keep your eyes shut, but your ears perked. And wait.”

Vega closed his eyes and cupped an ear, leaning in towards the group. They hung on his every word, eyes closed and bodies frozen in place, just as he’d instructed. Sequoia could still hear the rustling of leaves in the wind, the chatter of other cliques just a few paces away, but in the space in front of her, it was quiet enough to hear a screw drop onto the soft, padded grass.

Silence hung in the air for another moment, before a low hum, barely audible, filled the space. It slowly increased in volume, accompanied by the occasional kkrk, accented with a huruh, and morphed into a repetitive tik tik tik. Vega’s face twisted into many unusual shapes as he let out sounds she didn’t think someone would be capable of making.

Sequoia felt another nudge in her side and saw that he had an eye peeped at her. She rolled her eyes at him and then closed them, shrouding her vision in darkness. She imagined herself lying on her cot, wrapped tightly underneath the thin blanket. The door to the sleeping quarters clicked shut. A set of footsteps faded into the distance. And the blackness that surrounded her made it impossible to tell if her eyes were even closed.

Veda’s hum reverberated throughout her skull. Or maybe it was the real thing; his imitation had sounded just as clear as her memories on the nights she’d heard the entity herself. The sound slowly panned, from her right, behind her, off in the distance to her left, and then slowly faded. A minute after it was gone, and she wondered whether she’d heard it at all. But then the hum crept back into the background, behind her head again. A shift in someone’s blanket as they rolled over, and the sound was obscured. She strained her ears to pick up the muffled tone, and she faintly heard it by her feet. Her feet? Her feet faced the door, away from the outer wall. She bolted upright, and something grabbed her shoulders. Razor-sharp claws. She heard various clinks as something shifted its weight, behind her again. But the hum still continued, so soft as to be nonexistent, despite its supposed proximity to her. She took a deep breath and then quickly released it, managing to slip out of its grasp. In the complete darkness, she darted for the door and threw it open. She was in the middle of the forest, and she ran and ran, jumping over tree roots and vines, the sound getting louder and louder behind her. She kicked off her shoes, and the hem of her dress caught on the loose limb of a bush, and she was flung onto her knees, and the thing was directly behind her—

“Sparrow!”

Sequoia’s eyes flew open. The percussion stopped, and Vega stood there, looking to his right, in the middle of the group circle. Everyone else had opened their eyes and turned their heads as well.

She felt a pull on her arm, and Angie was there, a bright smile across her face. “Did you do it? Did you do it?” The little girl jumped up and down.

“Yeah, I did, Angie.” She squealed, stomping her feet. Sequoia wasn’t sure the child even knew what she’d done, but her joy was contagious.

Angie then let out a breath, mouth agape as she noticed the boy next to Sequoia.

“Vegaaa!”

“My little angel.” He extended his arms, and she threw herself into them. He hoisted her off the ground and perched her on his hip, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

The group sitting in the grass groaned and started to stand up, stretching their legs. Someone muttered, “The kid always ruins it.” Sequoia shot them a sharp glance. They hurriedly looked away.

“Vega, tell me all about it! I had to check on my—” The girl’s voice lowered to a boisterous whisper, “—I had to check on my fairy houses.” Sequoia nodded, and the girl turned her gaze to Vega. She was smart enough to know who to ask for a compelling story.

“Sequoia!” A voice called to the group, and everyone glanced in the direction of the sound. Sequoia sighed and dragged her feet as she walked over.

“Report.” A Tekman stood in front of her, a small, glass tablet in one arm.

“Get it over with already.” She crossed her arms.

He glanced at her for a moment, and then down at the tablet. “A wooden crate was stolen from the workshop, containing four hammers, three—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know what I did.”

She received another condescending glare. “…The punishment issued is as follows: the aforementioned unit shall lose one hour of free time, spread across five days. The unit must instead spend this time assisting in the kitchens. The unit must be personally supervised during their remaining free time for those five days. The unit will be assigned to collect their rations last during meals.”

Sequoia waited several seconds. The Tek didn’t say anything else.

“That’s it?” She burst into laughter. “Is Kingpin stupid? He’s practically begging me to act up. Y’hear that?” She looked behind her, where the rest of the group stood, having followed her over.

The Tek spoke up again, his voice soft and formal. “You should be thankful that this is all you’re getting, Sequoia, instead of testing Kingpin Ravan’s generosity.”

“Yeah? Well, maybe he should come deliver his report to my face, for once, and maybe I’ll be thankful that he finally thinks we’re worth his time.”

“The Kingpin has other matters to attend to. He hardly has time to be disciplining immature units from a low-performing bracket.”

“Oh, he’s too busy?” Sequoia threw her hands up. “Busy doing what? Reclining in some fancy chair while he makes us shrivel away, doing his dirty work?”

“You should be grateful he humors your insolent—”

“Is he up at the tippy top of his ugly little tower, twiddling his thumbs, laughing while we all suffer?”

“Sequoia.” The Tek narrowed his eyes at her.

“He’s too busy building the perfect schedule to ensure everyone’s creativity is adequately stomped out by the time they reach adolescence.”

“Sequoia.”

She stared straight into the Tek’s electric green eyes and lowered her voice. “If I’m too immature, then maybe he should come and actually do something about that.”

The Tek just sighed. “Be patient, Sequoia, and he will.”

* * *

She winced as the phrase came back to her. She’d never considered the threats of the Tekmen with any real sincerity. But that day still managed to send a shiver down her spine. She shook her head as she leapt over a bush, lifting the hem of her dress away from any eager branches or twigs.

The edge of the forest loomed up ahead. In front of her, the honeylocust trees gave way to large, towering sequoia trees. They bordered the edge of the forest, blocking much of the view of the perimeter of the Isle that lay beyond. Even so, the gaps between them were nearly as wide as the trunks themselves, and she cursed under her breath.

Once she broke free of the trees, she’d lose her main advantage: being small and agile. Behind her, another snap, followed by the rustling of leaves, filled the forest. It was close now. Too close.

Ch-chikk. Ch-chikkkk. Whrrrrrr. Smoke began to waft into her nostrils. She gagged. She’d smelled that smell once before. The smell of something burning, but certainly not wood.

* * *

Free time was just about to end. Sequoia marched up to the vastly oversized doors of the Bone, a massive, white, circular building that towered over the rest of the Isle. It extended high into the sky, melding seamlessly into the clouds, the top perfectly concealed.

“I need to use the bathroom.” She stared at the two robotic figures stationed on either side of the door. The Tekman to her left narrowed his eyes. On her right, the Tek didn’t even bother to meet her gaze.

“Free time ends in five minutes.” He idly tapped at the clear glass he held in his hand. From here, the words and symbols written across it were backwards.

“I need to use the bathroom,” Sequoia repeated. Her statement was met with a scoff from the Tek on the left.

“Yeah, you always ‘need’ to use the bathroom.” He wrapped the statement with curved fingers. “And every time we let you go, we instead find you nowhere near the facility, yet again getting into something you shouldn’t.”

The other chimed in, his gaze still fixated on his tablet. “You may have his favor now, but it’s only a matter of time before the Kingpin finally cracks down on his rules with you.”

“I need to use the bathroom.” Sequoia’s tone was flat, serious. The usual hint of cheerfulness and sarcasm that lilted her voice was long gone. The Tekman to her left picked up on this, and raised an eyebrow.

“Fine. But I’m escorting you this time.”

“Fine.” My punishment’s over, idiot, you don’t get to supervise me anymore, she wanted to say, but she held her tongue. Instead, she just crossed her arms while the Tek on her right tapped something into his screen. A moment later, the doors to the Bone slowly slid open with a soft hum, and the Tek on the left beckoned her in.

Sequoia stepped inside behind him, and she could hear the doors softly slide closed behind her. The Tek wasted no time waiting for her and was already several paces down the hallway. She decided not to waste any time trying to catch up.

The inside of the Bone was just as sterile as its outside—the walls, floor, and ceiling were eerily white and perfectly smooth, with nothing but gravity to distinguish them from one another. The ceiling was easily four times her height, and yet nothing took up the space between the massive entrance and the equally large elevator at the other end of the hallway. An abundance of light filled the space, but there was no visible light source to allude to the origin of the brightness. Sequoia’s dull shadow hinted at some arbiter near the ceiling. The blandness and unnatural atmosphere of it made Sequoia loathe the place even more every time she was forced to set foot in it. She made a point of knocking some of the dirt off her shoes onto the pristine floor.

The hallway leading up to the elevator was rather short, but the mundane distance always seemed to find a way to test her patience. Nonetheless, she maintained her leisurely pace as the Tek reached the elevator doors and turned around. His face fell when he saw how far behind she was, and Sequoia relished in his irritation.

The silence was broken as the gilded elevator doors willed themselves open, followed by a sharp ding that echoed impossibly loud throughout the barren corridor. The quatrefoil pattern on the golden metal frame contrasted sharply with the stark white walls surrounding it.

“Hurry up,” the Tekman called after her. Sequoia waited another moment before quickening her pace. She had nothing to gain by letting the elevator take off without her.

The Tek held out a hand for her to enter first, and she briskly walked inside. As he attempted to step in after her, however, she leaned over and pressed the button marked fifty-eight, the highest floor, and then mashed the door close button. However, the Tek was too quick for her. He managed to catch the door before it slammed on him, and the door slowly opened again.

“You'll be in trouble for that, Sparrow.”

Her cheeks grew hot at the use of Angie's nickname as an insult. But she did her best to keep a straight face. Getting in trouble hardly mattered anymore. She had to see this. Even if it meant invoking the wrath of the Kingpin himself.

The Tek noticed the floor she’d selected, and his eyes widened slightly. He quickly pressed the button for the second floor, but it didn’t light up as the other button had. He punched the button a few more times in frustration.

Sequoia smiled to herself. She knew the elevator wouldn’t be able to queue a new floor until the previous one was reached; she’d tried it before. Even if she couldn’t stay long, she’d at least be able to get a glimpse of the fabled top floor of the Bone. There was no way for him to foil her plan, so all they could do was wait for the elevator to make its trip. The Tek glared at her as the elevator steadily rose, pulling out his own glass pad and jotting something down on it. Her heart pounded; the wait seemed to last an eternity.

Floor fifty-eight. She'd never been higher than nineteen, in the workshops. She watched carefully as the doors slid open. The Tekman held his hand out to block her movement and jammed his finger into the door close button, but she still peeked past him as the doors parted for a moment. She held her breath, and gasped at what she saw.

Machines. Thousands of humming, steam-powered machines. And the smell of something burning.

* * *

She bolted between two sequoia trees and through the open meadow, still not willing to risk glancing behind her. However, her heart dropped as the last twig snapped, and the sound behind her became much smoother.

Kr-chifffffff…

Her legs were giving out. She’d been running for almost as long as she’d been trapped in that elevator. But this time, she knew exactly what she’d see if the doors behind her opened. In front of her, she could see the rim of the Isle. Beyond the edge existed only an expanse of nothingness, where the sky continued above and below, and the moon and sun could be seen revolving all the way around, slowly fading out at the horizon. It was almost as if the world ended right there.

And her world would end right there, too, if she didn’t think of somewhere else to run. But she couldn’t turn to either side, or she’d lose what little ground she had on the metal beast. There were no trees to climb, nothing to hide behind. And as she approached the endless void, it seemed there was no more running, either.

Why was she in this stupid dress?? She wanted to blame it for everything. She wanted to blame the Kingpin for everything. He’d asked her, only an hour ago:

“Have you ever heard of the Steamroom, Sequoia?”

She’d shaken her head, slowly.

“Well, have you ever heard the Steamroom? I’m sure you have. Late at night, just as you’re falling asleep…”

…Once you’ve settled in for bed, listen closely…Keep your eyes shut, but your ears perked…

Kingpin Ravan smiled, and Sequoia realized her face must’ve betrayed her thoughts. She looked down at her lap and fidgeted with the hem of her dress.

“You’re clever, you know that, Sparrow?” Sequoia’s head shot up. “I wouldn’t want such a fiery personality to go to waste. But I need to know if you’re truly capable of handling the job.”

“…What job?”

“Well, I can’t be Kingpin forever. I need someone to take over for me eventually.”

“Ha! And what makes you think I want to be Kingpin?” What, so she could similarly control and stifle the freedom of each new bracket as they were born? She’d rather see the whole place burn.

“Think about it. You could run things any way you want. You could sneak as many bottle caps from the cafeteria as you desired.” …He knew about that? “Allow anyone to destroy valuable supplies. Extend free time. You could burn the whole place down, if you wanted.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Then why haven’t you done any of those things?”

The Kingpin took a deep breath. “This place runs like the cogs in a machine, Sequoia. Everything needs to be in order, or it’ll all fall apart. If even one gear isn’t spinning properly, the whole mechanism clogs up. One gear starts acting up, then the next, and the whole thing quickly rusts away.

“But I try to be patient. A responsible engineer would immediately toss the rusty cog and find a new one. But I go and get some more oil, screw the gear back in place, maybe shuffle it around to a new spot. But again and again, that one gear halts the machine.”

Kingpin Ravan leaned back in his cream-colored executive office chair. The entire room was just as desaturated and pale as the chair, and yet the place felt so cold and dark.

“So I keep a close eye on that gear. See when it refuses to spin, what shifts it off its track. I study the teeth of the gear to see which other gears it spins with best. And then I see it.”

He reached into his ivory suit pocket and pulled out a small golden gear, placing it on the alabaster tabletop. He then lifted one side with a finger, so it stood on its edge, and with the other hand, he flicked it, causing it to spin. He watched it for a moment, smiling softly as it rocked back and forth on its axis. He waited as it slowly lost its speed, falling over as it spun, before it eventually came to a halt on its flat face with a repetitive, rising ting.

“This gear doesn’t spin like the others. And how fantastically it spins! It would be such a waste to throw the magnificent thing away. And I knew exactly where it could fit in the grand system.” He finally returned his gaze to her, and she let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding.

“There’s just one last thing it needed. This gear, you see, was covered in too much rust. So I cleaned it up, polished it until it shone brighter than a star. And soon after, that clever little gear spun its way straight to the top.”

The room was silent for a moment, and Sequoia began to shake. “…Where is she?”

The Kingpin just smiled.

“Where is she?!” Sequoia launched herself out of her chair, knocking it to the floor.

“When you clear away the grime and dust, you’ll often find a stunning contraption spinning beneath. You might be attached to that rust, but once you get used to its absence, you’ll find that what lurks beneath it is so much more beautiful.”

“What did you do—”

“It takes someone who is strong-willed, cunning, and symbiotic with the rest of the system to run a place like this. Someone who can see it all as one big puzzle and figure out which pieces fit where. And I believe every piece has its use, somewhere. But no matter what you choose to do, when the sun sets, the machine will always kick back to life.”

He picked at imaginary dirt under his nails. “The Steamroom is a hungry beast, Sequoia. But it’s not a picky eater. You choose the meal, it chooses when to feast.”

She slammed a fist on the table. “Quit speaking in your stupid riddles and answer me!” There was only one reason she’d agreed to meet with the Kingpin in the first place, one reason she’d gotten dressed up and decided to behave, for once.

Kingpin Ravan, calm as always, let the silence hang in the air, testing Sequoia’s patience. He leaned forward and steepled his hands on the table, looking up at her.

“All I need is one last stress test, to perfect the machine, to perfect the system. Prove to me my cog spins as elegantly as it should, and I’ll show you how I manage every bolt, bearing, bracket, and bone. Even the ones I deem…less than ideal.”

He lifted the gear on the table and made it spin again.

Sequoia exploded with rage. “You! What if—” She hesitated. Could she really afford to be defiant at a time like this?

“If the gear grinds to a halt once again, then my suspicions were wrong, and I’ll have to find another one to replace it.” He kept his eyes on the spinning chunk of metal. “But, you know, not needing to constantly maintain that cog might not be so bad after all.”

Sequoia leaned into the Kingpin’s well-groomed face, glaring as hard as she could. He met her gaze and stared back, elbows resting on the table between them, fingers interlaced with his chin propped on top. Between them, the gear settled flat on the table once again.

“Fine. What do I have to do?” Staring into his repulsive, smug face, she had half a mind to slap him, if she didn’t know the consequences. At his next words, she immediately wished she had.

“One night.”

* * *

The rattle of the Steamroom brought her back to her senses. Staring down into nothingness, she turned to face the beast. A giant metal monster, rusted and weathered, steadily approached her, steam rocketing into the sky from several pipes in its side.

Ka-chunk. Ka-chunk. Chiffff.

Its jaw slowly parted, and she was hit with the overwhelming scent of something burning.

Look, Sparrow! I finally met the fairies! She whipped around, but no one was there. Just the empty ledge, and the dizzying expanse below it.

Kingpin says I can have many bottle caps. Like, a whole rainbow!

Thhhk. Thhhk. Chuh.

You’re clever, you know that?

She sat down on the ledge, her feet dangling over the abyss.

My feet hurt. Stupid shoes.

Haaaaaaaaaaahhh.

Sparrow, will you still play with me once you’re Kingpin?

Furrowing her eyebrows, she closed her eyes and listened.

Rumrumrumrumrumrum

One night.

Whurlurlurlur. Haha!

Fine. Fine!

Once you’ve settled in for bed, listen closely…

Covered in too much rust…

Pkur-chit.

This dress barely even fits!

Sparrow, are you going to let him win?

Tears rolled down her cheeks. Her lip trembled.

Gghrrrrrrrrrungghhcck!

Angie!

A warm bed, a cold glass of water…

Every piece has its use, somewhere…

The fairies!

Keep your eyes shut, but your ears perked…

Whuuuuuuh—

“I’m sorry.”

She took a deep breath and clutched tightly to the grass between her fingers, as the dirt pulled out from underneath her. And then the sounds disappeared, replaced by the whistling of the wind.