by Greg Dragon
“Students, let me explain something to you.” The official paused. “Your parents already know this, but it’s important that you understand something. The Rating Department regulates the data that determines your score through a massive interconnected network. The data is sent and stored from the moment you’re born. The Raters know more about you than you could possibly imagine. The Raters analyze the data, assign your scores, and finalize the numbers by printing these cards and affixing their signatures.” She finally turned, but she looked past me. “Young lady, will you tell us what is written in the bottom right-hand corner?”
I stared at it, numb. There it was, scribbled in ink: RMR
“Out loud, please.” She held the mic up to my lips.
I tried to speak, but I knew I’d lose control if I did. I just shook my head.
“It’s a signature,” the official said, her voice hardening. “That makes it a valid Rating. NORA doesn’t make mistakes. Enjoy the rest of the ceremony.” She handed the mic to Professor Bold, who stared at it, red-faced.
The audience was quiet. I looked out at the faces of students I knew well and professors I’d studied under. Their collective shock and confusion slowly dissipated but was replaced by something else. Disgust. I could see it in their downturned mouths and sour expressions. They assumed I had done something horrible to deserve this. And why not? That’s what I would have thought.
I caught a glimpse of the soldier in black. He stood at attention like the others, but instead of watching the audience, his gaze was locked on me. He frowned, eyebrows creased in something that looked a lot like concern, maybe even pity.
I pulled myself together. I didn’t need the pity of a red, because this was all a terrible mistake.
A hand touched my back, and a square-faced monitor eased me gently toward the steps. “Come. I’ve been instructed to stay by your side until implantation.”
I just nodded. Of course. They were afraid I’d run away. Too bad I hadn’t thought about it before now. When I started back toward my seat, he shook his head and pointed to the exit. “For your protection,” he whispered.
Protection? From whom? The words swirled in my mind, fading in and out like everything else. I felt thousands of eyes on my back as I shuffled down the aisle toward the doors. But the image that would haunt me forever was the expression on Dresden’s face. His eyes were dark, his mouth set into a hard line, his jaw tight. He leaned forward in his seat as if he wanted to leap up and run. I had a million questions, but only one mattered as I left the auditorium.
Did Dresden want to run to me—or away from me?
4
It was as if I’d stepped right into my nightmares. A bonfire, hot and crackling, threw shadows across the town square. Except this time the people surrounding it weren’t running in panic but dancing. And the soldiers who stood about weren’t destroying but protecting. Watching. There was a big difference this time.
I hated fire.
“Look at those bubble blowers,” Semias said. “Dancing around like fools, celebrating their new implants. It’s not like they’ve never seen fire before.” He turned away, disgust evident on his round, shadowed face. I’d caught him gulping down nutrition pills again today, probably stolen from some poor family in the Red District. I’d kick him off the team, but we were down a guy from last month’s raid.
His name was Harell, Vance. Is that how you see it now—addition and subtraction instead of lives and people?
“Bubble blowers?” Daymond repeated. He absently fingered the scar on his cheek.
“You know. Kids. Whities. Newbies.”
“They’re only two years younger than you, Semias,” Daymond replied.
“They probably haven’t seen fire before,” Ross said in a thoughtful tone, as if he’d missed the entire exchange. “Look at this security. I doubt NORA will let this tradition go on much longer.”
I had to agree with him, but for different reasons. This was the wrong time of year to have a bonfire—the heat was already unbearable, and the fire made it a hundred times worse. No less than two-dozen monitors were stationed around the city square tonight, silver uniforms braided into the purple crowd, and the new graduates looked uncomfortable as they danced. They glanced often at the flames and the pile of blackening white uniforms, but stole glances at the monitors. If this uniform-burning ceremony was their graduation party, I actually felt sorry for them.
My team watched the crowd with envy and admiration. These guys had all grown up this way. The bonfire was a rite of passage for them, a point of no return. A last chance to be carefree and goof off, trying to impress the girls they knew they’d never see again.
A horde of blonde girls stood front and center, all wearing stiff, newly purchased purple uniforms and blazing green Ratings on their foreheads, chattering to each other like little birds.
Rating ceremonies were the worst. At least with criminals, I knew what they were thinking. It was the cold glares of green citizens I couldn’t stand. Those who didn’t look down their noses looked quickly away or pretended I wasn’t there, which was just fine with me. Except today, a girl in the audience had stared me down in curiosity, even responding to my smile with one of her own. And, strangely, she’d later become a red. She was the talk of the entire city tonight.
“Poly’s coming,” Neb announced. “Looks like they caught the kid.”
I straightened as Poly’s team approached dragging a scrawny kid with messy black hair. He wore red girls’ shoes that were too big and made him stumble. Those unfortunate shoes had cost him his freedom.
“I’m no smuggler, I swear,” the boy said when they stopped.
“Sure, kid,” I said. They always said that, but it didn’t matter. Our job was to deliver him, not interrogate him. That made seven smugglers today. Hopefully that was enough to curb the Demander’s appetite and let us leave this blasted city. The heavy rotten-lake smell was driving me insane. “We’re going to test you now. If you pass, you can go home free.”
He paused. “What kind of test?”
Poly retrieved his testing device from the transport and held it up to the flickering light. He’d helped invent it himself. It was simple, smaller than his hand—even though everything was smaller than Poly’s hand—but he never let anyone else touch it. “Hold out your arm.”
The boy’s eyes went wide. “Wait. What does it test?”
“Food,” I said. “If you haven’t eaten real food recently, you have nothing to worry about.”
“What is going on?” a woman shrieked, her voice bordering on hysteria as she pushed her way through the murmuring crowd. Apparently our presence had caught the attention of the graduates, and they watched us in fascination. The woman planted herself in front of me, hands on her hips, her long hair tucked over one shoulder. I stared at her in shock. It was Selia Dunstrep, wearing a yellow 629 Rating. She’d been in my clan—at least, when it had existed. Not only that, but she’d served in the Circle and worked with my father.
“Your mom?” I asked the boy. He trembled, his eyes shifting from the woman to me. Then he nodded.
Blasted woman, I thought. It would’ve been so much smoother if she hadn’t come. Quicker than anyone could react, I leaped and yanked her arms behind her, locking her wrists together. She let out a surprised gasp and tried to jerk away, then gritted her teeth in pain. Her bonds were linked to her techband, so she’d feel that jolt every time she moved. I knew all too well how that felt.
“You are ordered to submit to a food test,” I said.
“This is ridiculous! I just came to see—”
“Are you the boy’s mother?”
“I—” Her mouth tightened in pain. “I will not submit to a test, and neither will he. We’ve done nothing wrong.”
“The boy has already been tested.” Poly watched his device, holding the boy’s shoulder with his other hand. His deep voice rumbled over the growing noise of the crowd. “He’s positive.”
The boy stared at his mot
her in shock. Her mouth dropped a little. “It must be the device! He wasn’t—you can’t take . . . Please. I have other children at home.”
Great. Our last smuggler had just become an entire family. I motioned for a couple of guys to assist. They hurried to obey. “We’ll need to test all of you, then,” I said.
Poly waved his device over the woman’s skin, making her flinch. It took a couple of seconds for the result to appear. The light turned red. Positive.
“It’s all my fault,” she said. “Just let my children go. Please! They’re innocent and still getting used to this place. Whatever the punishment is, I’ll take it instead.”
I forced my face to remain impassive, sending a quick techband message to the monitor station to request a search team for the woman’s home. They’d be there within minutes. “Your family will meet you shortly,” I told her. “Whatever happens, at least you’ll be together.”
“Don’t you dare pretend to care about us.” Her eyes flashed in the firelight, giving her a strangely demonic look. Her voice dripped with venom. “You’re taller now, but I know who you are. You’re Iron Belt Hawking’s son.”
“Daymond, put her in the transport.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Your father was a good man!” she snapped. Daymond grabbed her arm, but the woman twisted away. Her hair fell into her face as she spat the words. “He would be ashamed of you now, hunting down your own. Becoming one of them.”
I refused to reply. It wasn’t the first time a member of my clan had recognized me, and it wouldn’t be the last.
“Sir?” the boy asked next to me.
I’d forgotten about him. “What?”
He winced at my tone but seemed to gather his courage. “Um, what will happen to us?”
I glanced at Poly, but he chose this moment to stand and walk away, flipping the screen up on his techband as if calling someone. With a heavy sigh, I leaned against the transport. Kids were the worst. I could handle hysterical mothers and angry, fist-throwing fathers—but when they dragged children into this stuff, nothing good came of it.
“Look, kid, I doubt we’ll even catch the rest of your family. Your clan members will probably hide them before we get there. That’s what usually happens.”
The boy shook his head. “No. We can’t be separated. My mom said we have to stay together.” He paused. “Was she right? Are you really a Hawking?”
I yanked the transport door open and motioned to the boy. He hesitated before stepping in and settling onto the oversanitized plastic seat. Parents didn’t know everything. They meant well, but there was a lot they couldn’t control. It was about time this kid learned that lesson. “I was, once,” I said and slammed the door shut.
It wouldn’t take him long to grow up. NORA would make sure of that.
5
My stepfather always complained that our unit was too small, even though it was bigger than most high-density blocks. But tonight I had to agree with him.
Konnor’s voice wafted in through the vent, angry and loud. “I’m telling you, it’s a mistake!”
“I thought so too,” Lanah said. “But the official quashed that theory pretty decidedly. Poor Treena.”
“Poor Treena? The timing of all this is just a little suspicious. Do you realize that Councilman Alden’s medical report leaked today? Everyone knows about his heart problem now, and there’s no way he’ll retain his position. I’m next in line, Lanah. Me, a councilman! And then she goes and does this the day before Ratings!”
“We don’t know why this happened, Konnor.” Lanah’s voice was soft.
“Yes. We do. Your daughter has managed to drag our name through the mud and ruin my career, all in one day.” He paused. “I suppose that’s what I get for marrying a rejected woman with a baby.”
Anger rose to the surface of my thoughts. Konnor was striking my mother where it hurt the most. He did that often when he was upset—sometimes with fists, other times with words. But as scary as his temper was, I knew the cold silence that followed was even worse. Those moments of cruel clarity were the true danger. Even Lanah knew better than to defend me now.
Indeed, there was no reply, and for a moment the only sound coming through the building’s old ventilation system was the tapping of the air conditioning.
He would confront me soon. I could only guess what that confrontation would mean. For a second I had a flashback, a memory of hanging over a rail, looking down on the city streets below, feeling helpless as my sweaty five-year-old hand slipped farther and farther. “Don’t forget this feeling,” Konnor had said. “If you fail our family, I expect you to find your way back here. I expect you to make the noble choice.”
I sat in my room alone, fingering the tiny round mirror I’d borrowed from Lanah months before and never returned. Just fourteen hours ago I’d woken from a deep sleep, contemplating my future with Dresden. We were supposed to go to the academy together. He would study broadcasting, and I’d become a Rater. We’d already bought a list of professors and their grading practices from a former student—it had cost Dresden over four hundred credits.
I felt sick. Education scores, volunteer hours, khel tournaments. It all seemed so silly now. What was the point? If it didn’t matter, why had I dedicated my life to it all?
Why did it matter for everyone else but not for me?
I left the vent where I’d been listening and sat on my bed next to the pile of new purple uniforms, neatly pressed and folded. I hadn’t changed into one yet. As a child I’d fingered my mom’s dark uniforms, wondering how it would feel to be an adult, to wear a number that showed the world who I was. What was the protocol with reds in a green household? I’d never heard of it happening before. Reds didn’t live in comfortable homes with families. They ended up in work camps and distant manufacturing plants. They didn’t deserve the pills they took, the water they consumed. The physical space they occupied. Would they kidnap me in my sleep tonight and dump me in the Red District?
I picked up my mom’s hand mirror. The reflection that stared back at me seemed completely foreign. Puffy circles under the eyes, redness around the pupils, a haunted expression. Most glaring, however, were the glowing numbers burned into the forehead: 440. Bright red—as if etched in blood.
The implantation process had been nearly painless. If I hadn’t been undergoing the surgery myself, I would have been fascinated. The implant was simply a thin gray screen, so thin it was nearly transparent. It was placed under the first layer of skin. A tiny line in my skin was the only indication that any incision had been made. The line would disappear within days, they had said. If only the same could be said for the implant.
My hands itched to scratch it away, to tear at my skin until the numbers disappeared. Until I could see only myself again. But it wouldn’t work. It was connected to the techband somehow. If I messed with it, it would trigger a painful electric punishment.
The tower came into my mind again, and I pushed it away.
The sudden rapping on my door made me jump. The mirror vanished into my pocket, and I sat down again. “Come in.”
Lanah entered, her face drawn and her eyes swollen. She’d been crying too. The thought gave me a guilty bit of satisfaction. The bed sagged as she sat next to me and handed me a nutrition pill and some water. I tossed it down my throat and swallowed, ignoring the water.
“I have something for you,” she began. “It’s from your dad.”
I leaned back against the wall, arms folded. “What, he’s too good to come in and give it to me himself?”
She blinked. “No, I mean your biological dad. Jasper.” Her hand fumbled in her pocket for a moment. “He wanted you to have this on your Rating day. I don’t think even he anticipated how hard this day would be for you.”
“My dad?” I repeated dumbly and sat up. “You’ve seen him recently?”
She put a finger to her lips and whispered, “No, no. He’s in prison now. Before you were born, he showed it to me. It was a couple of we
eks before . . . he left.”
“He’s in prison?”
“That’s the rumor. I don’t know for sure.”
“But . . . why? What did he do?”
“Let’s just say that Jasper was a traitor—to his family and his country.”
I sat back, stunned. I was the daughter of a convict? “Why haven’t you told me this before?”
“Konnor forbids it. He doesn’t want any connection between us and Jasper. He’d go and burn my marriage record if he could. But I thought you should know. Maybe it will help you understand what’s going on.”
“So you don’t think it’s my fault.”
“No. I don’t.” She took my hand and put something into my palm before I could pull it away. It was hard and cold. Did my con-man biological father think a gift would make up for a lifetime of pain?
I inspected it, tempted to throw it out the window. “A rock?” It was half the size of my palm, smooth and flat, the edges round.
“His favorite stone,” she said. “Your father had a special interest in geology. He drilled a hole through it so you could wear it as a necklace if you wanted.”
I gave a sarcastic chuckle. “Yeah, because I’ve always wanted a purple rock that belonged to the man who ruined my life.”
She sighed. “I wanted you to know my theory, but we don’t know anything for sure. Don’t place all your problems on his shoulders quite yet.”
I stared at her. After everything that had happened today, and after everything she’d been through, she was defending him? Before I could reply, her eyes grew misty, and she turned away.
It wasn’t right. Lanah always blamed herself for other people’s mistakes. She’d taken the heat for my stepdad—and from him—for as long as I could remember. But there was something stronger than guilt in her eyes this time. “You really did love Jasper.”
She sighed, wiping her eyes. “I loved him, and I thought he loved me. Obviously I was wrong.”
