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Stephen, Stephen, Stephen. My name is Stephen.
Omg, we finally know his name
For two days they’d pressed him to accept his new name: Thomas.
Another boy lay there, blond hair cropped short, eyes closed, covers pulled up to his chin.
And second, he saw the name on the monitors. Newt. Three now. He knew three names.
“Our plan,” Chancellor Anderson said, “is for this to be the command center for what we’re calling the Maze Trials, as advanced a facility as any research institution has ever had. This should be finished within a couple of months, and then the two mazes themselves completed within two or three years. Maybe four.”
Things he couldn’t believe. About a virus. About it being man-made. About it being released on purpose. About a population that had gotten too big to feed.
Look, she finally replied. That word always meant she was about to reveal her soul to him. Remember when I told you everything about where I came from? When my name was Deedee?
