You are awakened by the sound of a snorting pig.
Not a pig, you realize as you open your eyes, but a fat man in the cell adjacent to yours. He's gazing at you through the bars with dull, lifeless eyes -- like those belonging to a beaten soul.
You sit up in your cot and look at him reproachfully. Is it too much to ask for a bit of privacy?
The man grunts. "How did you sleep, princess?"
"Terribly."
"That's your mistake," he says, a devious smile creeping onto his face. "Trying to sleep. Those of us who are... repeat visitors... we know better. We have better things to do with our time."
You shake your head, trying to clear the morning fog.
"What is this place?" you mutter. "Why'd they put us here?"
The man licks his lips and blinks his blood-red eyes a few times. He reminds you of an overgrown lizard.
"'Us'? I don't know about you, but I was put in here for the usual."
"Us. Evelyn and me. Do you -- did you see a woman? Do you know where they put her?"
He shakes his head slowly. "I didn't see any girl. But that's what you get, coming here like you did. You're a brave little peacock, aren't you?"
"What -- wait, what do you mean?"
"So I guess you really don't know the traditions," he says, eyes blossoming. "We haven't had strangers for quite a while."
You stare blankly.
After a moment of silence, you say, "Explain."
The man clears his throat and lies back on his cot luxuriously. He seems quite comfortable here. Familiar.
"Colour," he says. "It's not allowed. Look around you -- what do you see?"
Gray. Drab, boring, dull: it's true; the walls, the bars, the cot and the concrete floor are all purged of life.
"They don't like it," he continues. "The priests, you know? It's been that way for years. But recently" -- here he props himself up on his elbow and eyes you intently -- "recently they've been cracking down. Making it hard for us."
He gestures towards the gray jumpsuit he's wearing. You look down and realize you are sporting the same garment. They must have changed your clothes while you were asleep -- the thought makes you cringe. They don't respect privacy much here.
"No colour," the man says. "If they could they'd scrub the purple right out of your irises. Hell, they're probably working on a rocket to launch into the sun. Gray it up a little."
Sunlight spills through your tiny cell window and onto your cot. You flex your hand in the light thoughtfully.
"So, then," you say. "They put you in here for just wearing a colour?"
"Who, me?" he responds, pointing to himself in amusement. "No, no. Heh. There aren't many peacocks anymore. Too obvious. Overdone -- and doesn't make many ripples. It's become less about expressing yourself and revolting and more about... coping."
His voice hangs on the last word, and you get the feeling he wants you to ask.
"And how do you do that?" you say.
He smiles. Any moment now a long sticky tongue is going to dart out of his mouth and slurp you up.
"The red demon," he says. "The crimson venom. Scarlet."
"I don't suppose you're going to tell me what that --"
"All right!" the Lizard cries, jumping off his cot with surprising agility. "All right; it's a drug, you see, a nice kind of high: smoke it, snort it, inject it or hate it, it's how we cope -- not everyone, but those brave enough. Because sometimes the reward is worth the risk. Because sometimes you need a goddamn escape."
This outburst seems entirely unwarranted to you.
"Now, see here," you begin.
"And don't you judge me," the Lizard hisses. "I know you've done bad things -- I've seen 'em. I've seen the sins of the Good People. The kind who wouldn't hurt a fly; who follow the rule of law. I've lit up with those folk. We've gone through clouds together. If it's the wrong answer, then they fail the test too."
You say nothing for a moment, allowing the Lizard time to compose himself as he paces his cell fitfully.
Finally you murmur, "What does it do?"
His head snaps back towards you, as if startled out of a daydream.
"It... adds," he says softly. "It makes things sparkle. Like a -- pond, a red pond. Like looking through blood."
"It adds colour."
"Yes."
You lie back on your cot again and stare at the gray ceiling.
"How many times have you been here?" you ask.
The Lizard chuckles. "I don't remember."
"And -- how long will I be here?"
"Oh, hell," he says, sitting back down on his cot. "Not long. Peas aren't considered major offenders. Couple of days." He waves his hand, dismissing the thought. "In fact, we'll be getting out around the same time. My sentence is almost up. Perhaps I can give your first taste of scarlet. How would you like that?"
"I think I might pass."
The Lizard snorts derisively. "You don't pass up a free hit here. You'll learn soon enough. You won't last without the venom -- yes, you'll wither away. Fish out of water, little stranger. That's what you are. You're used to life in your world. You're not used to working for it, sacrificing your time for it. Your mind for it."
You are silent. Somehow you know you could resist the temptation, if the time came. It's hardly even a question.
"We'll see," you say simply.
At that moment a door crashes open loudly out in the hall. You crane your head to peer out the bars behind you.
"Lipstick!" Evelyn cries as she strolls up to your cell. "They took my lipstick, hon. That was their mistake."
You scramble off your cot in shock; the Lizard does likewise.
Evelyn is sporting the same kind of jumpsuit you're wearing. Seeing her without all the red seems wrong, like coming across a tiger without its stripes.
She jams a key in your cell door and wrenches it open.
You feel the urge to run up to her and give her a hug, but you figure that would be unbusinesslike.
Instead you say, "I'm glad to see you."
"Well I'm sorry I don't feel the same way," she retorts. "This mission is more trouble than it's worth. I'm giving Henry a piece of my mind when we get back."
"Now, what's all this?" says the Lizard indignantly, looking rather pitiful behind the bars. "You're going to help a fellow out, aren't you, ma'am? Can't pick and choose your prisoners, eh?"
Evelyn eyes you, as if to say "What is this trash?"
"Yes," the Lizard says, "yes, you're Evelyn, right? Why, I'm your friend's buddy -- now, now be a good girl and let me out."
"Evelyn," you say, ignoring the fat man's pleas, "why'd you break out? We were only going to be here for a couple days."
"Well, sure," she responds. "But by then we'd be dead, and my employer doesn't look kindly on failed rescues."
Evelyn reveals that the two of you were going to be used as examples -- killed publicly to illustrate the priests' commitment to law and order. Normally they wouldn't take such a drastic action, but they figured since you and Evelyn were only strangers, no one would miss you.
"Now come on," Evelyn urges, grabbing your arm and pulling you to the hallway. "We've gotta get out of here quickly."
"Don't leave me!" the Lizard squeals, hands wrapped around the iron bars. "I'll rot away in here. You've seen what they do to people. Don't leave me to that fate!"
"Oh, come off it," you say. "You said yourself your sentence is almost over."
"Shut up! You don't understand. Every day without scarlet is hell; now you're teasing me. Please, it would be no harm to you to let me go. I -- I'll even help you. There! You've no idea the way out of this place, do you? The guards'll be looking for the strangers. You just -- just put that key in this lock and I'll take you to the underground. They'll know how to get you out. I promise, I promise."
The Lizard looks so pitiful, so sad in an eerily reptilian way, that you almost feel sorry for him.
But not quite.
"You say you know the way out of here?" Evelyn asks skeptically.
"I do; yes, I do."
"And you can show us?"
"I'll bring you to the underground. They know every passage, alley, street and valley. They'll get you out. They hate the priests."
Evelyn glances at you and shrugs. She unlocks the Lizard's cell door and steps aside, a slightly disgusted look upon her face.
"Ah, thank you, ma'am, thank you immensely," the Lizard whimpers, stepping out of the cell. He rolls his red eyes around, orienting himself.
"Follow me," he says, beckoning you out into the hallway.
You're eager to get out of the city, but you have your reservations about your guide. His obsession with scarlet unsettles you; it's as if the drug is the only thing that matters to him. In an analytical part of your mind you note that this fixation could cause him to betray you -- or, at a time of opportunity, it could be used against him.
Your group weaves through the monochrome city streets, moving under cover, avoiding the authorities. There are more people out today, and it is not hard to blend in with the crowd. You note their clothing: It is as colourless as your own, but there are, at least, different designs and styles. It seems the priests have no problems with variety.
The Lizard suddenly stops, crouching behind a large bus. He turns to you, his face slicked with sweat.
"We're gonna go to the Watch," he says and licks his lips. "Too many guards about everywhere else. I know a few guys there. They'll know where you can go next."
"The Watch?" Evelyn asks. "What's that?"
The Lizard smiles and lets out a little giggle. "It's an exciting place. You'll -- you'll like it. It'll be interesting. Promise."
