Free Secret Value of Zero, The by Victoria Halley Page A

of the rooms beyond the Nerve Center.  
    Only she and Trove remained. Meke’s stomach growled. They hadn’t eaten lunch in their rush to get here. Trove, somehow, knew this. He led her into a room full of tables.
    As they sat, a man came over, bearing a steaming bowl of stew. The delicious smell filled Meke’s nostrils, making any sensible thought impossible. The man stared at her hands, but Meke focused on the bowl and its contents.  
    She scooped mouthfuls of the stew. It looked different, darker, more uneven. As she chewed, she realized the difference. This was no GE food. No plant produced this. The colors were too uneven. The potatoes had bumps and splotches. Unlike the GE tomatoes’ pristine redness, these tomatoes had pink and yellow-green splotches.  
    When Meke looked up, she caught Trove’s bemused expression. She straightened, taking care not to smear food on her mouth. Keeping her eyes on the bowl, she continued eating, at a more reasonable rate. Despite Meke’s hunger, she saved a few pieces for Tooth. She put a rare slice of meat in her hand and lowered it under the table. Tooth nipped her hand in his eagerness. His teeth were sharp. Yes, Tooth’s name suited him.  
    ◆     ◆     ◆
    Trove and Meke waited outside of a door. The door looked like all of the other doors that they passed—large, smooth and dark gray. She could feel the people beyond the wall.
    Meke’s breath caught in her throat. She wondered what would happen beyond the door. She only knew that Sterling was the revolutionary leader and that she played an unseen role in his plans. What did he want with her? Did he want her to act like a radar, silently registering movements? Did she want that? Questions, instead of answers, arose.
    Meke wondered what would’ve happened if she had escaped in the mountains. Would she be free at this moment, just her, Tooth and the trees? No, probably not. She would probably be dead of starvation or of thirst. She shuddered at the thought, yet she still remembered those few moments of freedom with fondness.  
    The door opened into a dim room and Meke saw Arya and a tall man. The man was dark-skinned with close-cropped hair. His angular face only accentuated his handsomeness. The five perfect points of a star radiated, yellow-white, on his hands. The contrast between the star’s ghostly paleness and Sterling’s dark skin was startling. He was a Star. She had no time to ponder this as Trove nudged Meke for her feet to start working.  
      Sterling looked at Arya. She nodded and faced Meke. “Meke, I will be your interpreter for this discussion.”
    Meke nodded; she hadn’t expected Sterling to know a single word of sign language. She sat back in the chair and tried not to allow her nervousness to show.  
    Sterling beamed at Meke, confusing her. As far as she could tell, his smile was genuine—the corners of his eyes crinkled. Most men, especially Stars, would be suspicious, angry, or even proprietary, but not friendly.  
    “Arya told me that your vision is quite—” he glanced around “—extraordinary. I knew something unusual was happening in your visual cortex. But, of course, I couldn’t know how it would manifest.”
    Meke tangled her fingers together. Something inside still protested others knowing about this sense. She had only just now made it hers; she wouldn't relinquish her ownership.  
    “So, what precisely can you see?” Sterling asked, his eyes open and curious.  
    Don’t believe them.
    Meke pressed her fists into her lap. “I’m sorry, but I won’t tell you that.” Meke cursed her need to be polite to this man, this Star.  
    He looked surprised. “Why not? We are helping you and your kind,” speaking these words slowly, he articulated every syllable.  
    “I don’t care. You only brought me here for your own purposes. I just want to do what I want.” Meke blanched at her own words. She had planned on smooth diplomacy, not this.  
    He chuckled. “That’s