The Girl Who Dared to Think Bella Forrest (best classic literature txt) 📖

“The Eyes aren’t the only ones who need to know how to code. The big machines that keep us alive are run by computers. Only the best Cogs can speak the language, and that’s only because IT tried to revoke all of the copies that contained coding, citing that all computers and codes fall under their jurisdiction. They actually got a majority vote in the council initially, and got their hands on a lot of the copies before the Cogs managed to get the council to overrule their decision. Of course, it was too late—and the IT department had secured, and then conveniently misplaced the books taken in the first place. But some of them still exist, hidden by their owners before they got confiscated, and—”

“How do you know that?” I asked with a frown. “That’s not taught in school.”

“My grandmother was a Cog, remember? When I was young she used to tell me all sorts of things about the history of Cogstown, ranting about the IT department and the many ways they’ve tried to eliminate the entire Cog department.”

“What?” I said with a laugh. “That’s preposterous. All of the departments are necessary to keep the Tower functioning. None is more crucial than the other—it’s part of the Oath.”

The Oath was something we’d had to recite every morning, afternoon, and evening in our interdepartmental education centers, when we were young. It was basically a way of remembering that we were all in the struggle to survive together, and an acknowledgement of our dedication to serving the Tower, ensuring our continued survival.

Zoe shrugged and shook her head, her eyes watching the numbers as they dwindled down. “I guess if you did something to try to eliminate an entire department, you wouldn’t really want anyone knowing about it, would you?”

It was an excellent point, but I still wasn’t convinced. Interdepartmental spats had existed pretty much since the inception of the Tower. Jurisdictional disputes, departmental reorganizing, and more than a few hotheads had created rifts over the centuries of forced cooperation. Rumors always flew this way and that during those times; someone would get blamed for something or other, and then legends were born, with heroes and villains. The legends would become part of a department’s history, and a lot of them were taken out of context and got a little out of hand.

Her grandmother had probably just told a story from her own mother. Likely, if I were to go back into the public history of the department, it would result in finding a memo about the coding books being collected by IT to ensure that all data was input into the computer, so that in case of a catastrophic event, like, say, the loss of a department, the other citizens could have the knowledge available to try to salvage the situation. It had been blown out of proportion—like most interdepartmental memos were. Centuries of living together and serving the Tower meant that sometimes departments would start fights with each other, at times erupting into full-blown group attacks and guerilla warfare. But the whole idea that a department had ever moved against another to wrest more control for themselves was unrealistic to say the least.

“Heard back from the Cogs about your transfer?” I asked after a moment, and she frowned, shoving her hands into her pockets.

“No,” she said glumly. “I’m worried my mom intervened or something. She’s close with the Praetor, and I’m one of their best workers.”

“Can he intercede like that?” I asked, blinking at her. Praetor Strum was the head of Water Treatment, and had the final say on who could and could not transfer into or out of his department. He also served as the head pontifex of the Water Ways, giving sermons to his people once a week. Unlike IT, who never allowed people to transfer out and only a handful to transfer in, they were normally more relaxed about department members’ changeover. In fact, I wasn’t aware that they had ever stopped anyone before.

“He can, if he can make a strong enough case against inducting a Diver to the ranks of a Cog. It would be harder to do, since I’m first-generation and my mother came from the Cogs, but…” She trailed off with a sigh and ran the edge of her thumbnail over one brow, as if massaging a headache away. “I just like machines.”

That was true. For as long as I had known Zoe, she had loved to tinker. Give that girl parts, and she’d show you a robot. Or an IT pad. I felt an empathetic pang for my friend, knowing that all she wanted was to work on the big machines, and that politics and interdepartmental disputes were getting in the way of her happiness.

I knew that if she were a Cog, she’d be a ten in no time flat.

Wrapping an arm around her shoulder, I rested my cheek against hers and hugged her close.

The concrete wall suddenly transitioned to glass, and I lifted a hand to block out some of the bright light from the beams on the ceiling, the lift continuing to drag us down. After a moment, the light grew far enough away for me to lower my hand, and I blinked as I took my very first look at Cogstown.

Steel girders jutted out everywhere, some of them making a frame, others ending abruptly in thin air. I could see the wide spaces in between—as if they were their own levels. In some ways they were, thanks to the metal plating that had been welded over the gaps. The makeshift levels were awash with activity. Men harnessed to safety lines climbed girders, while others crossed massive gaps, sliding down a single line. Parts of the open spaces were welded over, creating rickety-looking landings. The landings grew denser as we descended, and I could see more and more people.

There were improvised homes everywhere, but with no doors—open, much like the