"Are you asleep?" A man asked from the other side of the door. A male orderly wasn't unusual in theory, but I hadn't seen one yet, and was slightly shocked that such a conservative institution as this one - whatever this institution was exactly - would allow for such a gender-defying role.

I chose not to answer, just because I wanted to see what he'd do. He hadn't announced room service or anything. Maybe he wasn't an orderly at all, but instead

"We're your neighbors." The voice said.

"We?" I wondered. That was interesting. I wondered how many there were, why they were coming to visit me, and why only now. Maybe I had been off-limits until now? Perhaps I was still off-limits, and they were breaking the rules to sate their curiosity. I couldn't turn them away though, not with the chance to learn more. I wished I could avoid being seen while bedridden, but I had to weigh the cost of my embarrassment against the boon of finally interacting with another Inheritor. One who wasn't going to imminently die, anyway. Presumably.

Why did I even want to meet another Inheritor? I wasn't quite sure, and if I ever found a reason, it probably wouldn't be a good one. Trepidation caused my voice to falter, just as I was about to speak. There was no reason to trust that these people had good intentions. Or any intentions at all.

"There's only two of us." A second voice said. That made me feel better. I didn't want a crowd descending upon me, and having two people instead of three would make the situation less awkward. If I became a brick wall as I was wont to do, the third person could pick up the slack. Additionally, I could clam up intentionally, making them bounce information off of each other, anything I could use to my advantage. If they wanted to make a situation less awkward, in their effort to diffuse the tension, they would probably ramble about their lives or what life in Inheritor's Valley is like. It would be much harder to force me to give up my own secrets.

This is, of course, assuming they had good intentions. If they genuinely wanted to meet me, I could use them easily. But if they came here to get me to talk about something, a two-on-one situation would be drastically out of my favor. I could barely even move. I'd be powerless.

"I don't think she's in there." The first voice said.

"She's in there." The second voice responded. It sounded bitter.

"Maybe she's asleep?"

"She's not asleep."

"What then?"

"I don't know. She doesn't want to talk to us."

"We have a wheelchair." The first voice offered it as if he just remembered. "If you want it." It was planned to be a surprise, presumably. Either as welcoming, or as a reward they could use to manipulate me. It wouldn't even help, as my problem was with my pelvic region, which is pretty important for sitting upright. That... convinced me. If they had information as to my position, but thought a wheelchair could help, they had been told about me, but they had been lied to. I didn't know how much they knew, but they clearly didn't have the full story, or at least wanted to convince me they didn't. If they were trying to convince me though, they probably wouldn't have argued. They would have been nervous, and broken in to see if I was asleep. At least, that's what I assume, anyway.

Really, I just wanted to trust them. They hadn't forced their way in, like even an orderly would have. They respected my boundaries. That's what I needed most in people. So, against my better judgement whirring out all the possible things that could go wrong, I groggily said "Who is it?" With the door between us, they couldn't see that I'd been awake for hours. I hoped they bought it. And that I hadn't allowed too much time to elapse before my decision.

"Your neighbors." The first voice said. "We just wanted to say hi. Can we come in?"

"Sure." I said. My hair wasn't brushed, and I hadn't showered in who knew how long, so I assumed I looked sufficiently tired. The door opened, and I rubbed my eyes as they entered, as if washing the bleariness out.

When I opened my eyes halfway and turned my head to the side, there they were. A man and a woman and a wheelchair. The man pushed the wheelchair with a sheepish smile. His teeth were remarkably straight, and every hair on his head orderly. His skin was flawlessly clear, and everything about him was incredibly put together and neat. Both his shirt and pants were pinstriped; the stripes lined up, even though they were two separate articles of clothing. Odd. Maybe the Assimilation? The woman - how should I describe her - looked like a perfectly normal human. Aggressively mundane. But there was an otherworldly beauty about her. I liked her immediately, and then tried to stop myself from liking her, reminding myself that I didn't know her and had no reason to trust her. But I couldn't stop liking her. And it didn't terrify for some reason. I made a mental note to let her terrify me later, or at least evaluate properly why I liked her. Maybe it was because she brought me the wheelchair?

"My name's Aaron. Aaron Stroph." The boy offered. "You must be Margo."

"Pleased to meet you." I said, propping myself up on my elbow. And then visibly suppressing a yawn, out of politeness. A fake yawn obviously, but my stifling it would show I was trying to make a good first impression.

"Likewise." He bowed slightly, and then nervously gestured to his female companion. "And this is Harriet Bloem."

"Please to meet you." I repeated, this time looking at the most captivating woman I had ever seen.

In response, she said "Aaron brought you a wheelchair."

"We brought you a wheelchair." Aaron corrected. "Because we heard you got beat up."

I nodded. I wondered if that was what he genuinely heard, or if he knew the full extent of what happened. Maybe he had a hand in the assassination? An Heir had ample reason to try and keep the Compass out of government hands. But if so, why hadn't he escaped already? Maybe he was trying to pry me for information on whether his mission succeeded or not. Should I tell him? If he was working against the government, he was surely my ally, but then again, involving myself in this mess even more than I already was could spell trouble. And what did he plan to do if South East was dead? And what did he plan to do if she wasn't? Was he thinking of escaping Inheritor's Valley?

Was I thinking of escaping Inheritor's Valley? I had only just gotten here, and I couldn't even walk, but, at the moment, anything seemed better than this non-place, this constant surveillance, indifference, and institutionalized animosity.

He had alluded to me "getting beaten up." I had to know if he knew what he was talking about. I needed to dangle some sort of information on a hook, something where he would fill in the gaps accurately. I said "They shot me." I said it after a great silence, then quickly and quietly, while glancing around the room looking for bugs. I gestured to my pelvic region, since they already knew I was injured, and sooner or later they'd figure out where. Since they brought the wheelchair, they obviously didn't know what exactly had happened to me. They had had no part in controlling me. The only pawns they could potentially be involved with were South East, the "Lot's wife" guy, and the sniper(s). None of those people had seen me nearly kill myself.

"Told you it wasn't suicide." Said Harriet Bloem, the effortlessly and implausible beautiful woman.

"No you didn't." Responded Aaron Stroph, the effortfully and plausibly organized man.

"But I implied it."

"Well yeah, but not in as many words."

I stared at them indignantly, as if I cared that they were making light of my situation, or talking about me like I wasn't there. Maybe this is just how they talked to people though? They couldn't interact with society at large here, and probably had a looser grip on what was rude and polite. Not that I had one either.

"Sorry." Aaron said. "It probably sounds kinda insensitive, but really we just-"

Harriet cut him off. "The radio station - that's where we get out news - said you tried to kill yourself, and that's why you're hurt."

I raised my eyebrows, as if I was even slightly surprised. I even lowered my jaw and put my hand to my mouth. "I shouldn't be surprised," I then corrected, rolling my eyes. "Given that they shot me. Why would they not lie about it afterwards?"

"That's just how things are around here, unfortunately." Harriet sighed.

"They don't normally shoot us though." Aaron added. "Actually, I can't remember the last time someone got shot. They don't really watch over us or anything."

So they believed my story about the gunshot. That was nice; it saved me the embarrassment of having to admit I nearly frostbit myself to death. More importantly, it meant there was a shield of falsehood between me and them. I was keeping a secret, so I inherently had the upper hand. I felt safer, much safer than I had felt with the interrogators.

He had said something else important, relating to the men in suits. "They don't watch over you?" I asked, and then corrected myself, as if I had forgotten, as if I was lost and confused and new to this life, "Er, us, I mean?"

Aaron shrugged. "Not really. They have guys stationed all over the border, obviously, and a few throughout. I think there are security cameras just in case? But overall, I think they know we aren't powerful enough to get past all the guns at the border, even with the traces of our Inheritances we can use in here." He sounded resigned about it, as if this was just the way things were, and he had no intention of changing it, no matter how much he wanted to. Maybe he wasn't involved in South East's assassination.

"What happens if you get close to the border?" I hazarded. Asking about the border itself seemed too forward; I didn't want to give the impression that I thought I could cross it. If they were smart, they would expand the easy answer (the easy answer being that they'd shoot you), with some details. Hopefully they wouldn't find it insensitive to talk about guns after I'd been supposedly shot. But then again they had been having a debate about whether I tried to kill myself. To be fair, I had almost killed myself, but it hadn't been intentional.

Unsmartly, and still insensitively, Harriet gave me a single word: "Guess."

I frowned. Guessing was pointless.

"It's not all bad though." Aaron offered. "As long as you don't get near the border, it's fine and they leave you alone."

So he didn't assume people were checking in on me repeatedly? Interesting. This (along with the fact they didn't care to tell me about the border) was another point towards the theory that he had nothing to do with South East's assassination. There were plenty of Inheritors, so it made sense that not all could be involved in some secret plot with outside connections. But then why visit me? Why tempt me with a wheelchair? What was their aim?

I couldn't divine it by asking. But Aaron asked a question for me: "Do you want a ride in the wheelchair?"

"I'm not sure I can..." I admitted truthfully, and then felt a stab of psychic pain. "Since I can't sit upright very well."

The two of them looked strangely crestfallen at that. They had put in all this effort of getting the chair, and now they couldn't even parade me around. I couldn't figure out what their game was. I couldn't be sure obviously, but they didn't seem to be connected with the assassination. They just wanted to bring me a gift. To what end? Was there something else going on here that I didn't understand? Or were they just being nice? People weren't usually nice to me, but they didn't know me, so maybe they weren't disgusted by me yet.

"What about a stretcher?" Harriet asked, a bite of anger in her voice. They wanted to show me something, then. They needed me out of this room for whatever reason. 

It was dangerous to trust them, obviously, but the allure of finally leaving was too strong. I wanted to see something besides the ceiling and orderlies and men in suits asking me questions I couldn't answer. Guardedly, I asked "How'd you get the wheelchair?" If they stole it, I decided I could trust them. I didn't have a sound reasoning yet. If they got it through legitimate means, that meant they worked within the bounds of the system. Whatever their goal was, if they worked within the bounds of the system, then they were useless to me.

"We stole it." Harriet said matter-of-factly. She could be lying, but

Aaron elbowed her, annoyed. "No." He said, but lying obviously this time. "The nurse, um, gave it to us, right?"

"Sure." She responded, withholding sarcastic laughter. "We could borrow a stretcher too, though."

I decided to trust them.