As we neared the building doors, I slowed and let everyone else file in first. Inside, the heels of my shoes clicked against the tiles, echoing throughout the regal corridors. On the left hand wall were pictures of past United States presidents, some of them burned on the edges. On the right was a huge mural of Brighton, post zombie-apocalypse. Underneath were countless black and white photos of the destruction; fires, desolation and the gruesome faces of the walking dead.
Our current President, Octavis Brighton, with his large brown eyes and white hair, hung over the doorway of the Advice Meeting office. Next to him was Vice President, Declan Wilderman. With silver hair and a bright white smile, I could have sworn he was wearing blush. Under their pictures said, “Welcome good citizens of Brighton. From the ashes we have risen: a strong and healthy nation. Long live Brighton.” Of the two, Mr. Vice President Wilderman’s judging eyes zinged into me and I couldn’t escape him as I crossed the threshold. For the first time in my life, I hadn’t been a good citizen and the evidence lay burning against my skin, hidden inside my bra.
My fists clenched tight around my purse handle and I questioned if I should have taken Blue Eyes’ advice. Maybe this was a mistake. Or maybe I should have flushed the evidence down the toilet. Why did I bring it here of all places?
Swallowing down my nerves, we walked into the office at the end of the hall. Everything was just like Mom described. Directly in front of me was the infamous wall lit with names. The ones in green had DOD watches plugged in next to them and the ones in red were vacant. I quickly scanned the list while the twins walked up without hesitation and clicked their DOD watches into place. Doors on the opposite ends illuminated with their names and they shrugged at one another, before disappearing inside. They acted as if they’d done this before. Why couldn’t I be just as confident?
I returned my gaze to the wall, as sweat dripped down the back of my bare legs. Reading and rereading, I still couldn’t find it. Of course, mine wasn’t listed. The lone girl next to me blew out an irritated breath and marched over to the window.
“Hello-o,” she said as she tapped on the glass with a long fingernail.
The young lady on the other side rolled her eyes and opened the window. “Find your name and plug in your time watch—” she started.
The girl perched her hand on her hip. “It’s not listed—”
“Is today your birthday?” the counter girl interrupted.
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t.” Annoyed, she tossed her black hair over her shoulder. “My name is Gillian McRaine with an E.”
The counter girl craned her neck to get a better look at the list on the wall. “I highly doubt there will be another Gillian McAnybody gracing our office today, thank the gods.” She plastered on a surly smile. “Just plug in your DOD and it’ll adjust itself.”
“You’d think after all these years, you’d spell my last name right.” The girl huffed dramatically before marching to the wall.
I knew all too well the mistakes in the EA computer systems. But like the counter girl said, the E magically appeared, but the name still remained stained blood red.
“It’s not changing,” she called out. When no one responded, she yelled louder, “It’s still red!”
A sappy, sweet voice rang from the speakers in the ceiling, “As stated in the rules, once your Compliment is ready, your name will turn green and your meeting room doorway will illuminate. Until that time, I suggest you take a seat and wait.”
The girl rolled her eyes and frowned at the speaker. Instead of sitting, she leaned against the wall and studied her nails, mumbling something under her breath.
The back of my neck heated, as I read and reread the names on the list. Mine was missing altogether. Did my Compliment show yesterday? Or forgo the whole thing all together. Was Blue Eyes right? Or worse, was this when I’d find out I’d died before turning thirty-eight? That I was really a Glitch? My heart pounded at the thought and I cursed my future self for doing this to me.
Lost with what to do, I took a seat and waited while Gillian stared at me. Yesterday, I’d double-checked my thirty-eighth birthday and found it wasn’t a leap year. Where was she?
The horror that I might be a Glitch returned and rushed through me once again. In those cases, the EA basically faked their DOD results until the meeting. No. I refused to believe it. Following the rules religiously, I was guaranteed a long life.
Gillian’s heated stare continued to pelt me, adding to my nerves. Too scared to ask for help, I played with my nails and wished my name would appear already. The urge to get up and walk out plagued me. Maybe Blue Eyes was trying to save me the embarrassment. Maybe I should just leave. Then the idea hit me. Compliments obviously didn’t wait for a name to be listed, they’d just plug in their watch. My birthday had to be throwing off the system. So without hesitation, I walked over and popped my watch into an empty slot. My name appeared in yellow. Then to my horror, an alarm sounded.
Gillian laughed under her breath. “Idiot.”
I tried to pull the watch from the wall when the window to my right flew open.
“What do you think you’re doing?” the counter girl exclaimed.
Flames hit my cheeks. “I—” A logical excuse wouldn’t come out, other than I’d rather die than ask her why my name wasn’t on the list to begin with. “—didn’t want to disturb you.”
She rolled her eyes and groaned, motioning me over with her finger. “Do you make a habit of sticking your DOD into anything you please? Hmmm?” As she typed something into her computer, my name grayed out on the wall and the alarm stopped.
Up close, I noted the counter girl hid her youth under heavy black eyeliner. Rule 9.1: Make-up shouldn’t be used to hide one’s natural beauty and is discouraged. She had to be only a few years older than me.
“Didn’t you hear me tell the girl before you what to do?”
“Yes, but…” I stammered, embarrassed. “My name wasn’t on the list.”
She shook her head and tsked. “That’s because today isn’t your birthday.”
“No, it was actually—yesterday.”
“Yesterday?” The girl chuckled. “Honey, you get one chance for advice and that’s on your birthday. No exceptions.”
I cleared my throat. “But my birthday is February 29th. I was told to come today…”
She wrinkled her nose. “There are only 28 days in February.”
I withheld my huff, trying not to be rude, but I was losing my patience. “Not when there’s a leap year.”
It took a moment before understanding lit her face. “Oh, right. Leap year.” She pinched her lips together and returned her attention to her computer screen. “I thought they would have stopped that by now,” she mumbled.
What could she have possibly meant by “stopped”? They couldn’t just do away with the day.
I tried to keep my hands still while she tapped more buttons and kept exhaling as if I were an inconvenience. Wasn’t she here to help me, the customer?
Her face hardened as she typed harder, then she swiveled in her chair and yelled down the hall, “Grace! Could you come here for a minute?”
Another woman in her thirties approached.
“Okay, so,” Counter Girl began, “apparently, Ms. Masterson was born on February 29th, so she’s not listed to come in today and—” She pointed to something on the screen.
I pursed my lips at how she made my birth date sound like it was my fault.
“Oh,” Grace said with a smile, “we had someone just yesterday with the same situation. Their Compliment had the sense to show on the same day, though. Seems to crop up every few years and quite frankly, I enjoy the extra day off.”
At the mention of another sharing my birthday, my head jerked up. “Who?” I blurted.
Grace’s smile melted. “Oh, now, sweetie, you know I can’t tell you that. If they’re in your circle, you’d know them already.”
My lip stiffened as her focus went back to the computer. The o
nly person in my circle to have a leap year birthday was me. I swallowed hard. Then her face darkened.
“Let me drive.” Grace had Counter Girl move aside, then she smiled at me. “I’ll have this fixed in a jiff. Just take a seat.”
She shut the glass window before I could respond.
I walked away and took a seat as their muffled conversation continued. More women joined around Counter Girl’s computer, all gawking and pointing to the screen. I felt naked. What were they looking at? Was my life on display for all of them to see? All my conversations? My texts? My phone calls? My run-in with Blue Eyes?
My cheeks heated remembering back to Xander’s racy texts. My parents pulled me into Dad’s office and that was the day I learned my texts weren’t confidential. The horror that my parents knew exactly what Xander had fantasized was way beyond mortifying. Were they reading them now? Every last naughty word?
Then a man dressed in a black suit appeared and eyed me with disgust like I was a zombie. I stared back, trying to keep my chin up. I wouldn’t allow him to intimidate me, whoever he was. Honestly, I had nothing to hide, except the slip of paper in my bra. Blue Eyes’ warning danced in my head. Maybe he wasn’t a plant and knew this would happen. Knew something I didn’t.
Dark Suit waved his hand to Grace. I read his lips. “Just do it.”
Do it? Do what? The crowd vanished and within seconds my name and Gillian’s turned green. My heart leapt.
“Good luck.” Gillian smirked as she disappeared behind the door.
Luck? I needed something stronger than Luck.
CHAPTER FIVE
Inside the tiny meeting room, a silver screen lined the left hand wall and a small rectangular table protruded out from it. My stomach was a mangled mess of nerves and I wasn’t sure what to do, when the screen illuminated. If it wasn’t for the fact the image of the room playing on the screen didn’t show me in it, I would have sworn I was looking into a mirror.
I folded my hands to keep them steady. My heart was racing so fast, I thought I’d pass out. The chill of the room stole into my bones and the sweat soaking my armpits made me shiver.
Me. I was about to meet myself. This was so surreal.
My heart skipped a beat when the light flickered in the opposite room. I watched the screen with bated breath.
“Please place your finger on the recognition slide,” a computer voice said.
I looked upward for the source, but obeyed on instinct and placed my finger on the glass that appeared from a secret door inside the table. My body tensed until the small prick came which captured my DNA. After a few seconds, the red light on top of the computer screen to my left turned green with the words: FINGERPRINT MATCH.
Abby Sabine Masterson
Born February 29, 2016
Parents: Margaret and Jeff Masterson
As my GPA scores and health predictions rolled out on the screen, I felt exposed. My life was here and most likely available to any EA agent with a computer, even the snotty Counter Girl. I didn’t like it. My eye moved to my DNA results that read: PENDING VERIFICATION. What did that mean?
“Hello,” the computer voice said.
I gazed upward just in time to catch the entrance of a woman on the other side. Wearing a plain blue dress with her dark hair piled on her head in a meticulous bun, my Compliment walked in lithely. Slightly fuller hips and breasts, and a tad taller than I was now, she smiled, showing barely a wrinkle or a grey hair. Me.
I straightened my shoulders and plastered on a nervous smile, hoping to win her approval. She looked me over without much expression. I swallowed down my disappointment and my expectations dwindled. Not even a twinge of nostalgia was in her eyes, a look of longing of youth lost, or comfort at least. Only emptiness was there—a strange void.
I clasped my fingers together, rubbing the spot where they'd stolen my DNA, and tried to pull my lips into a smile. I’d hoped, of all people, that I would want to encourage or praise my younger self as she entered into the next decade, at least. Wouldn’t I know I was terrified? What purpose would intimidation do? Unless something horrific happened in the future that she couldn’t tell me about.
My heart thundered on as she sat and typed something into the keyboard that magically appeared in front of her. The sterile computer voice spoke overhead.
“Abigail, welcome. I’m so happy to meet you. Please don’t be nervous. Sit down.”
I furrowed my brow. What a weird way to greet myself?
A keyboard appeared from a hidden panel in the table and I slid into the seat. I typed a response, noting my letters were red at first, then slowly turned green.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I guess.
She waited for a minute, staring at me. Was there a delay? Then a countdown appeared in the upper corner of the screen, moving backward from ten minutes. My throat suddenly felt thick. But worse, my brain went blank. I didn’t expect this to be so awkward.
“First,” she said, “I’d like to commend you on your outstanding decision making. Your ratio of time lost verses time gained is commendable.”
I smiled, honored that we appreciated that of ourselves. “I do my best,” I typed.
“Well, then. What questions do you have for me?”
I blinked in shock. She didn’t have anything to say? Shouldn’t I know myself enough to just offer the advice I craved? Since when would I need a prompt? I pushed down the fear and tried to remember the questions I’d prepared ahead of time, wishing I’d recorded them in my flat screen at least. Her frown at my silence made me feel stupid.
“I guess,” I typed, then stopped. Should I ask whom I married and just get it over with? Or let it be a surprise? “What qualities should I look for in the right mate?” That was safe enough.
My Compliment’s eyes narrowed momentarily and she looked down, as if to read something, then she started typing. “Naturally, a DNA match. Someone who’s a conscientious citizen, like yourself. Someone interested in advancing Brighton’s technology and who doesn’t look to find ways around our rules. One who values honesty and not some horny guy who only wants you for sex.”
I blinked at her mortified as my shoulders slid. This was my advice? To stay away from horny boys? Yes, I’d had a not-so-private experience with Xander, but to be honest, the ones interested in advancing Brighton were gross geeks who wanted a companion to play online games with. Besides, I didn’t want a computer telling me whom to marry because we’d make genetically perfect children. I wanted something special; true love like my parents had. And you couldn’t get a gut feeling about someone unless you met them face-to-face, and visits from other provinces weren’t easy to arrange. I’d practically have to accept a marriage proposal before finally getting to meet in person. And the last guy was nothing but a lying charmer who got me in huge trouble and appeared nothing like he’d personified online.
I nodded in agreement and decided to move to the next question. “What suggestions do you have for a career?”
“Anything, really. You’d excel in science, technology, and creating new inventions.” She smiled brightly, as if she knew something great was to come for me. “I suggest that you broaden your friendships. Though you and Eleanor are close now, she’s holding you back. You should make friends in your advanced classes and work on extracurricular projects together. That’s where you might meet someone worthy of your time.”
What? My brain froze at the mention of my best friend. First, I’d never refer to her in her formal name, let alone ditch her for someone with higher “so called” potential. Then my stomach clenched, remembering Elle’s apprehension. Did Elle get the same advice about me?
“What’s wrong with Eleanor?” I typed in, cringing at the use of her formal name.
“Nothing. She just doesn’t bring out the best in you and she’s not your equal. You have so much untapped potential you need to work on developing. Also, you should stay away from the Emancipated Society at all costs, and never leave the city walls.”
I grit my teeth, angered over her continued insistence I abandon my best friend. And where’d the warning to leave the walls come from? How could she forget I was terrified of zombies?
“Just continue on as you are now. Take extra classes to expand your knowledge. I know it’s difficult to rise above the drama of your peers, but they’ll only hold you back. Advancing your mind and contributing to Brighton is the most important thing you should be worrying about right now. A relationship can wait.”
My smile faltered and my eyes immediately looked to her finger for a wedding band, or a tan line depicting she’d taken it off for the meeting. Nothing was there. All my hopes fizzled into nothingness.
“Okay,” I agreed reluctantly when Elle’s parting words hit me—becoming dull and Brighton’s finest.
The minute warning on the timer startled me.
“We haven’t much time, but don’t worry,” my Compliment added, “you’ve nothing to worry about as long as you obey the rules. Always remember that.” Her eyes didn’t crinkle like they should with her smile, like just her lips moved and nothing else.
I breathed in and out slowly, trying to remain calm, nodding my head at the right times as recited passages from the Brighton Handbook rattled from her annoying mouth. Only the sad pathetic reality I didn’t marry before turning forty kept smacking me internally.
“Good luck,” she typed with a quick smile as the buzzer dinged. Then just like that, the screen flickered to black. Doors on the opposite end of the room opened automatically.
“Please exit to your right,” the computer voice said.
I stood; my legs wobbly beneath me. Above the doorway said, “Rule 48.1: Meeting details are confidential.”
I lingered, rereading the words, the lump in my throat growing by the second as the lights darkened over my head. How could I go home and face everyone knowing I’d turned out to be nothing more than a spinster? With jerky steps, I moved robotically toward the outside. My watch appeared in a receptacle attached to the wall outside of the doors.
Glitch Page 3
