The Girl Who Dared to Think (The Girl Who Dared #1)

The sound came again and again, and after a minute of wrestling with myself, I slid backward. The convoy was moving so slowly, I was certain I could catch up to them quickly, after I’d figured out what the strange noise was.

I slid into the vent and followed it, the voice growing louder. There was a junction ahead, and I paused, waiting. When the noise came again, I took the vent shooting left, and followed it until it dead-ended at a grate. I slid my fingers through and pushed the grate off, lowering it to the ground, and then stepped into the room beyond.

The room was decidedly out of place for the bottom of the Tower. Soft fabric covered the floor—a bright blue color—with two sofas set up, facing each other. A low table sat between them, while a heavy wooden desk took up the other side, a single chair behind it. A thick layer of dust coated everything in the room, which, given the atmosphere regulators and how aggressively they filtered the air, meant no one had been in this room for an extremely long time.

The voice had stopped as soon as I’d entered the room, and I looked around, trying to search for the source. Suddenly I felt uncertain, wondering if I had imagined the voice.

“Hello?” I said softly, stepping farther into the room and shining my light around. “Is anyone here?”

“—’m here,” the voice replied, and I jumped straight into the air, my hand going to my chest. I moved the light around, searching for the person I had overlooked, but finding nothing.

“Hello?” I repeated, my heart pounding faster and faster. “Who’s there?”

“...here!” This time the voice was cut off with a burst of electronic interference, causing there to be a strange, tonal sound at the beginning of it. “—an you... me?”

“I’m sorry,” I said, bending over to check under the desk. “But I can’t understand you.”

There was pause. “—ow about now?”

“That’s better,” I said, smoothing my hand over my pants. “Are you an undoc?”

“—m not sure. —at is it?”

“How can you not be sure?” I asked, alarmed. “And where are you hiding?”

“—m with you... in the room,” the voice replied calmly, and I looked around again, searching.

“I’m really not seeing you here. Are you sure you’re in here?”

“—m on... desk.” I looked at the desk, but the only thing on it was a computer, a coffee mug, a few file folders, and an inch of dust.

“Okay, let me try this one instead. What’s your name?”

The answer brought me up short.

“My name is Scipio. Pleased to meet you.”

“Of course it is,” I muttered, unable to feel surprised at anything right now. I wondered how much worse one day could possibly get—and how much time we had before the Knights found us and killed us all.