In the attic of General Y’s quarters, 717 and I sit close together in the cramped space full of cold drafts and metal.

At 717’s feet lies a small hexagonal-shaped piece of technology, the screen sending an eerie blue glow in the otherwise dark room.

“What.. what is it?” I question in a small whisper. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“An Angulux.” responds 717, running their gloved finger across the screen. “One of the oldest models of a holographic machine.”

“How did you—“

“324 slipped it in my pocket as they were exiting the bus.”

My eyes widen, and a shaky breath escapes my body. “324. The—“

“Undesirable.” 717 finishes for me in a nonchalant manner. They press a few buttons, turn a couple knobs. “I think it’s important. 324 knows I understand how to work holograph machines, even ones before my time. The things it showed me..”

717 quiets and the only thing I can hear is the traffic moving outside and the voices of our superiors downstairs. Then hesitantly, 717’s black gloves turn a switch on the Angulux, and it slowly whirrs to life.

Blue light begins to take shape in front of us, but it is halted as I switch it off. “This is wrong. You are curious.”

“Curiosity was not always a bad thing,” 717 interrupts in that quiet yet determined voice. I stare in disbelief as 717 reaches to switch it back on. “Curiosity is how things came about.”

The light grows and shapes once more, and I recognize the item it’s forming instantly. The slick black helmet, the dark mirror running from top to bottom that I know so well. Our masks. Us. My body shivers with both excitement and horror as the holograph moves to depict an up-close view of the mask, showing its inner workings, the panel, the wires and the glowing buttons.

“324 gave me something else.” 717 speaks up. Out of their pocket, they bring out a slender black and silver card. “I think it’s a key.”

“A key? For what?”

Slowly, 717 reaches out and touches their own helmet.

I lean back a little, shaking my head. “No. Never. The air—“

Everyone knows the story, I should not have to remind 717. 25 years ago, chemical warfare was so drastic that it completely ruined our world. The air became unbreathable. So the government invented the helmets, “masks”, and suits to protect our faces and bodies from the harsh conditions. No one I know has ever seen a human face.

And why would anyone want to?

“Why would a key exist? Why would there be a way to take these off if the air was really poisonous?”

I shake my head. “I should report you, I should—“

“Help me take my helmet off.”

“What?”

“I know Magis Lex taught you more than me. I know you remember.”

Yes, of course. Magis Lex, our Advanced Technologies Professor, had hired me after class to be their assistant, someone who held tools and worked computers while Magis Lex did their work. During those late nights spent tapping buttons and listening to Magis Lex’s high- pitched voice talk aloud to themselves, never to me, I was able to take in my surroundings of that classroom. One of those included a bin of broken masks lying unwanted, abandoned by their owners. I took in the frayed wires, the many panels, the buttons, such things as I had never seen before.

“This,” I say quietly, gently, so as to not arouse any attention from downstairs. “This is what you called me for?”

And that’s how, ten minutes later, 717 and I both sit there in awe, chests rising and falling rapidly, as we stare at each other’s naked faces and bald heads, taking in the supposedly ‘poisonous’ air in full gulps.

717 reaches up and touches their face tenderly, as if to not break it, while holding up the mirror of the mask and using it to look at their pale reflection.

“In the Past Times, there used to be two sexes: male and female.” 717 says numbly, as if they don’t know what else to say, and suddenly I hear Magis Xeno’s strained voice echoing across the large classroom. I can smell the blood in the air.

“And what are we, then?” I ask.

717 ponders this for a moment, looking up from their reflection in which they’ve been long entranced. “I don’t think we’re either. We don’t seem to fit any of the criteria.”

“So they’ve gone extinct. Like a useless invention,” I remark somberly. “Like books and weather.”

“Weather was not invented.” 717 insists. They stand and hold their helmet on their small chest. “It occurred naturally.”

“But it does not anymore,” I say, beginning to sit up to meet their gaze. “Now give it back.” I reach out for the my helmet.

717 stares at me. Their forehead wrinkles. “If you wish.” They slowly attach the helmet around my head, and I feel at ease again. I breathe the cool treated air and my vision through the glass darkens slightly.

I hear 717 slip the wires back together and re-screw the panel, closing it with a click and a curt beep. The screen flickers on, and my world brightens artificially once more.

“Now yours,” I say, reaching for the helmet resting on the table.

717 does not acknowledge my comment. “To think.. we are one of the few who actually have seen our own faces.”

“Now yours,” I insist again.

“What does this mean for us, 930?” 717 says suddenly, staring at me with those colorless eyes, such things that have me intrigued, enthralled, caught in a vortex of some indescribable feeling..

I grab 717’s helmet, fully prepared to force it on with shaky hands. The world is how it should be. “It means nothing. Absolutely nothing.”

717’s gaze is empty. “Remember what 324 used to say? About life before?”

“War and disease, death, plagues, horrible things.” I remind them. “I plead you, put it on.”

“I don’t know if this is much better,” 717 says slowly. “Why would they lie to us like this?”

Flashes of light, screams suddenly silenced, the smell of burning flesh in my nostrils, pops echoing down alleyways, people being escorted away, the words_ do not question, never question, never question. _

These words send prickles down my spine. So what, we just discovered that the government has lied to us our whole lives? What can we do to change it? Since when can we do anything? I near them with the helmet.

717 backs away. “What if we could tell the others, show them what I’ve shown you—“

“It should be your _utmost_ desire that no one ever has to experience what we have,” I say through sharpened teeth.

717’s gaze suddenly darkens, their mouth falling into a flat line as their eyes lose their tautness. We stare at each other.

I can hear our superiors still talking downstairs. With their helmets on. Believing the lie? Or do they know?

717 says languidly, “What is this?”. Their words slide into the air carefully, falling at my feet as I look at them, shaking my head. “I don’t know.”

The voices from downstairs are louder. I lift the helmet up. “Please,” I whisper the demand.

717 takes a deep breath, looks down and away, tapping their foot.

As I click back the helmet on and follow 717’s instructions carefully so as to not set off any alarm, relief fills my lungs to see that reflective surface around their face once more. There’s something behind that mask, something I can feel, a burning determination, a clench of their fists, a breath of defiance. The thought of such feelings emanating off 717 shudders through me.

“I never want to do this again,” I say to 717 as they begin to unlock the door and put the Angulux and key back in their pocket.

“Well, you will not.” 717 says before swinging upon the metal frame and allowing us to reenter our reality.