She saw the new world through a small crack in the bathroom grout, not enough for the matrons to notice, but enough for her to catch glimpses of a whole other reality every time she went to shower and the matrons made them shower after every single shift in the tunnels, in the kitchen - anywhere that wasn't the common room. They learned to stop asking why after the matrons shot the first to refuse.
Every night before bed they read through the mantra, repeating each verse with the same reverence as the matrons even if they felt nothing for it. These words weren't there for them, they were there for all those who would come after them, after their lives had ended and there were no more workers or matrons left to bury everything that needed to be buried.
It was not a place of honour. No highly esteemed deed was being commemorated and nothing of value left behind. The danger was down in the tunnels, that much they knew, but the matrons always said that the less aware they all were the safer they would feel. The greater their ignorance, the likelier they would be to go back to work every day until the lumps or losses killed them.
She was one of the many with losses - hair and teeth so far, but she knew it was all a part of their life cycle. She suspected her lumps were in her lungs or stomach or both and she was always so very tired. Still, every glimpse she took outside, every frantic worker in their smart white suits made her feel less alone.
Although she knew she should report the breach in the bathroom, she wanted to be selfish just a little bit longer, unaware of how much radiation was leaking through such a tiny gap and unaware of how many others were suffering as a result.
All she knew was that the world outside was vast and busy and so much more alive than their facility.
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