UnDivided (Unwind Dystology, #4)

by Neal Shusterman

They put the thin guard inside a wooden toy box in a deserted pediatric waiting room. The corpulent one fits nicely in the cabinet underneath a huge fish tank, ironically populated by puffer fish that somewhat resemble the man.

We all need a moratorium on misery now and then.”

“You should learn to relish the hunger more than the feast, lest you become a glutton.”

At the far end of the room, dominating the space, is something Risa needs time to wrap her mind around. It’s an instrument. A pipe organ—however, instead of gleaming brass pipes, this one has faces. Dozens of faces. “Impressive, isn’t it?” Divan says with pride. “I purchased it from a Brazilian artist, who has apparently made a career working in flesh. He claims his artwork is to protest unwinding, but I ask you, how much of a protest can it be if he uses the unwound for his art?” Risa is drawn to the thing like a spectator to a car accident. She’s seen this before. In a dream, she thought. A dream that kept recurring. Only now does she realize that the dream had a grounding in reality: something she once saw on TV, although she can’t place exactly when. “He calls it ‘Orgão Orgânico.’ ‘The Organic Organ.’ ”