Season 01 - Episode 13

‘a powerful agitator’

Ny pulls on his catering hatch handle, now more from habit than hope. The hatch taunts him with a jiggle but doesn't open. He hasn't eaten for over a week now. His head feels light enough to float away were it not for the heavy, persistent pain within.

He stares around the room in despair. His eye lingers on the always empty chair. What would she think of him if she saw him like this? Moving on, his eyes reach the tools. First his father's, then his. Hung up long ago to gather dust and cast shadows. An idea flares then falters, a fleeting spark in the night.

The threat of eviction looms large like a person, standing over him, pointing a finger. He must wait his turn, follow the rules and trust in GovCo to save him. Anything else means eviction onto The Scapes and for Ny, old and frail as he is, The Scapes mean death.

The pain in his stomach persists however and hunger is a powerful agitator. Thinking through fog, Ny reignites the idea. Possible eviction or certain starvation. He licks his dry lips with a sandpaper tongue and takes down the first of his tools.

He pauses, the edge of the tool a hair's breadth from the hatch. Then his stomach cramps around all the nothing inside it and he pops out the corner of the seal. It is done. He is now a criminal and suddenly he feels free.

Ny finds energy where before there was none. He strips the damaged seal in seconds, stiff, gnarled fingers flexing nimble. He knows the workings of the hatch well enough to fix it blindfolded.

Instead he watches his hands while they work. They find and remove the blockage, clean the rim, oil the hinges and replace the seal. He tries the handle again. The hatch opens perfectly, as if brand new.

Inside sits the breakfast that has taunted him since waking. He snatches it out and wolfs it down. He slurps and gobbles and burps and sighs and laughs. He should have done this days ago.

How foolish he has been. Who will ever know? If a repair team ever does turn up, he'll just play the part, a doddery old man, daft as a brush. I got confused and couldn't work out how to open the hatch. So sorry to waste your time.

Ny laughs again. He feels a decade younger. He looks at the always empty chair and feels her smile of approval. He will take down all of his tools now. Take them down and clean them. No-one will know and he will be happy.

There is a knock at the door.

He doesn't blink. He doesn't breath. His heart doesn't beat and his brain doesn't think. The bottom falls out of his stomach, plunging down through all of The Levels. Visibly shaking, he dutifully approaches the door and opens it with tears in his eyes.

In the corridor is a woman. She's as old as him and just as frightened. She is carrying a plate, covered by a cloth and begs to come inside. He lets her in, still mute with fear and now with confusion too.

“I heard you in the corridor the other day,” she explains. “With those horrible, culty-men. I'm sorry it took me so long to buck up the courage. I don't really come out anymore but I couldn't stand to think of you starving so...”

She sees the open hatch, the tools laid about it, the recently finished breakfast plate.

“Oh,” she says, more fearful than ever. “I see.”

She turns one way then the other, clearly desperate to leave.

“I was just so hungry!” Ny blurts out. Desperation cracks his voice.

The woman hurries back to the door and leaves without a word. Ny's fingers stiffen and curl. He presses them to his mouth and trembles. The threat of eviction smirks and points its finger once more.

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