novelraw Chapter 485: I Think I Like It
Chapter 485: I Think I Like It
By the time they brought Sera to Waste Reclamation, she already understood the first rule of surviving the surface of Hope Sanctuary.
Funny enough, it was the same rule for surviving the labs of Hope Sanctuary.
Become invisible.
And so far, she was doing a fantastic job at it.
No one looked at her. Not really. They kept their heads down and went about their day as if the world would end if they didn’t do the one thing they were in charge of.
She followed the clerk as he took her down a corridor. Eventually, it led down into the lower tier that narrowed gradually with the concrete walls closing in just enough to make shoulders brush if two people passed each other.
The overhead lights flickered intermittently, not broken enough to warrant repair, but unreliable enough to keep everyone’s eyes down. Electricity was produced by powers, and only those deemed worthy were given its privilege. She was surprised that even down here, they got some semblance of it.
The clerk walked ahead of her with practiced indifference, his boots striking the floor in a steady rhythm. Two guards followed behind, close enough that she could feel their presence without needing to turn around.
She didn’t.
She kept her gaze forward, her posture loose, and her steps even.
The door at the end of the corridor was heavy and industrial, marked with a faded stenciled number instead of a name. When it opened, the smell hit first.
It wasn’t sharp or overwhelming. It was so much worse than that.
It was old.
Waste Reclamation occupied a wide, low-ceilinged chamber that must have once been part of the base’s maintenance infrastructure.
Concrete troughs ran through the center of the space, shallow but broad enough to guide the slow-moving streams of murky water toward grated drains at the far end. The walls were stained in layers, the evidence of years of runoff, chemical wash, and things no one wanted to catalogue too closely.
People worked silently along the troughs.
They wore identical grey coveralls, their fabric stiff with repeated washing. Bright yellow gloves hung from some wrists, while others worked barehanded, fingers red and raw. Boots splashed softly as they shifted positions, scooping, lifting, clearing blockages with long-handled tools.
No one spoke. No one looked up, even as the clerk stopped at the edge of the room and turned toward her.
"This is Waste Reclamation, Lower Tier," he said, voice flat. However, no matter how impassive he tried to be, Sera could hear the note of glee in his voice. "You’ll be assigned here."
She nodded once, hiding her own smile as he waited, clearly expecting some type of reaction from her.
Maybe a question, maybe a complaint. But he was definitely expecting fear. And when it didn’t come, his mouth tightened in a frown.
"You’ll report to Supervisor Kline," he continued, gesturing toward a woman standing near the far wall. "She’ll explain your duties."
Sera stepped forward without being prompted.
The supervisor was older than Sera had expected, with iron-grey hair pulled into a tight knot at the base of her skull. Her face was lined with wrinkles in the way of someone who had been tested by life way before her time. She watched Sera approach with open assessment, eyes sharp and dismissive in equal measure.
"So," Kline said. "You’re the zero."
Sera simply nodded her head. "Yes," she replied quietly.
Kline snorted. "Figures." Turning around, she began walking, clearly expecting Sera to follow, so Sera did.
They stopped beside one of the troughs, where the water moved sluggishly, carrying debris that ranged from harmless scraps to things Sera recognized immediately and chose not to name.
"This is manual removal," Kline said. "Anything that clogs the flow, you clear it. Gloves are in short supply so if you don’t make sure you get a pair, then you are still expected to do your job. Got it? Tools are limited and you don’t stop unless you’re told. You don’t talk while working."
She paused for a second and glanced at Sera. "You don’t ask questions, do you?" Sera shook her head.
"You’ll be assigned a number," Kline continued. "No names down here. Names make people think they matter."
She reached into her pocket and handed Sera a small metal tag stamped with a three-digit number.
Sera accepted it and clipped it to the front of her coveralls.
"Work cycles run twelve hours," Kline said. "Food breaks depend on output. Bathroom breaks are handled here."
She gestured vaguely toward a side corridor. "You fall behind, someone else picks up your slack. If you slow the line, you’re replaced. If you get sick, you’re reassigned."
Reassigned.
Sera understood the word well enough.
Kline studied her for a long moment, clearly trying to provoke something. When Sera remained still, the supervisor’s expression shifted into mild irritation.
"Fine," she said. "Grab a tool. Start there." She pointed toward the far end of the trough.
Since all the gloves were gone, Sera stepped into position and wrapped her bare hands around the handle of a hooked pole. The metal was cold, slick with residue that transferred instantly to her skin.
Without flinching, she began to work, happy when the rhythm revealed itself quickly.
Lift. Pull. Clear. Step. Lift. Pull. Clear. Step.
The water moved just slowly enough that blockages formed predictably. Organic matter clung to the grates, tangled with fabric scraps, broken plastic, and things that had once belonged inside bodies. Sera moved methodically, clearing each obstruction without hesitation.
The familiarity crept in gradually as the echo of tools striking concrete seemed to create its own song.
She tracked everything as she worked....the blind spots created by the columns, the moments when guards passed and when they didn’t, the workers who were careful... the workers who weren’t.
She noticed which drains backed up more often, which ones no one liked to clear, and which people were avoided entirely.
She noticed that no one looked at her for longer than a second.
By the time the shift ended, her body was coated in grime that no amount of wiping could fully remove but she didn’t mind.
Kline watched her from a distance as the workers filed out, faces drawn and silent. When Sera passed, the supervisor’s gaze lingered just long enough to be calculating.
"You kept up," she said. "Most don’t."
Sera met her eyes briefly. "Thank you."
Kline scoffed. "Don’t get ideas. This isn’t praise. It’s expectation."
Sera nodded.
She walked back to Commune C alone.
The filth stayed with her, embedded under her nails and along her sleeves. She didn’t try to clean it away. Without a hot shower, it would have been next to impossible.
When she entered the room, the men looked up immediately.
Zubair was the first to rise.
Lachlan wrinkled his nose. "Wow. They really went all in on the ambiance, huh?"
Alexei’s eyes scanned her automatically, checking for injuries she didn’t have.
Aerenyx frowned. "You should have been reassigned. That level of exposure—"
"I’m fine," Sera said softly.
She dropped her pack and sat on the edge of a bunk, boots still on, posture relaxed despite the exhaustion pulling at her bones.
Zubair crouched in front of her, concern etched deep. "You don’t have to do this."
She smiled at him then, faint but genuine.
"I think I like it," she said.