The Divinity Bureau

by Tessa Clare

  “You don’t need to grab the door,” Macy’s voice echoes from the hallway. “I’ve been elected, but I’m still able to function.”

  A nervous laugh comes through the corridor – a male laugh, which catches me off guard.

  “I just thought I’d be a gentleman,” the male voice responds, and I recognize the voice as belonging to Roman. “April never complains about it.”

  “I’m not complaining either,” Autumn chimes.

  “Well, April is a lucky girl. The most honorable thing my husband has ever done for me was that he moved to District 1 for half the year.”

  I mute the television, positive that my ears are playing tricks on me. Two months ago, Roman was certain that my mother hated him; yet here they are, standing in my hallway and joking around like old friends. Have I missed something?

  “I appreciate your presence at the extension hearing,” my mother continues. “It’s nice to know that someone understands how the bureau works from the inside.”

  “It’s not a big deal, honestly,” Roman says, his voice sincere. “Anyways, I didn’t really come with, since I can’t be seen with any of the elects.”

  “It’s the same principle,” my mother dismisses. “The fact that you’re risking your job means the world to me. I’m sure it’ll mean a lot to April, too.”

  Is he risking his job? His job is the reason that we’re in this mess! I’ll have to talk to my mom as soon as Roman leaves. In the meantime, I realize that I’m not past the resentment towards Roman for not telling me about my mother, and I’m not willing to talk it out with him yet.

  I turn the television off and grab my bowl of cereal from the coffee table. As quietly as I can muster, I tip-toe away from the living room. I don’t want to take the elevator, in fear that it’ll make lots of noise. Instead, I walk up four flights of stairs, silently fuming. I’m only feet away from my bedroom when I hear the elevator ding.

  I freeze. It’s probably Autumn, I tell myself. It could also be my mother. Just as long as it isn’t Roman – please don’t be Roman. But when I glance towards the elevator, the one person that I don’t want to see is staring back at me. His mouth hangs open, looking just as shocked to see me as I am to see him.

  “Hi,” he says breathlessly.

  “Hello,” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. “What are you doing here?”

  “What I wanted to do the last time I was here,” Roman says, avoiding my eyes. “Are you mad at me?”

  Yes.

  “I don’t know,” I admit, my words betraying my mind. “On one hand, I know that what happened wasn’t your fault; but I just can’t get past the fact that you knew.” My eyebrows furrow. I take a step closer to him and wag an accusing finger at him. “You knew! And you didn’t tell me!”

  Roman hangs his head down. “I’m sorry. I just… couldn’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’d lose my job,” Roman says, and at that moment, it all makes sense. He avoided me because he didn’t trust himself to keep his mouth shut. And for a guy that’s already living paycheck to paycheck, losing his job would mean losing everything.

  He sighs. “Do you hate me?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, unable to find the words to describe my emotions. “I just… I’m having a hard time differentiating between you and them right now.” By ‘them,’ we both know that I’m talking about the Divinity Bureau. “Logically, I know we need them. We're already in the middle of an overpopulation crisis – and I can't imagine what life would be like if we didn't have anyone around to decide who lived and who dies. I'm glad that I don't have to live through that, but it's different when it's someone that you care about. You can relate to that, right?”

  “I can’t,” Roman says, flushing as though embarrassed by the truth. “Growing up, I wasn’t a social person. We couldn’t – not when there was work to be done. I’m still not, even to this day. I haven’t been able to fathom the idea of loss because I didn’t have anyone to lose - at least until I met you.”

  I offer a smile, trying to make light of such a big confession. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that you don’t have to worry about losing me.”

  Roman hesitates on his next words. “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “What do you mean?” I ask. The concept is silly to me. I’m young and healthy, even if I haven’t been injected with BIONs yet. But something isn’t right. Roman’s face is scrunched together, as though he’s in pain.

  “Roman, is there something you’re not telling me?”

  It’s my mother’s election all over again.

  “Roman!”

  I can see that he’s struggling to make a choice between telling me the truth and continuing to keep secrets from me.

  “Is it about the bureau?” I press.

  “Isn’t it always about the bureau?” Roman asks sadly. “That’s what it always comes down to.”

  “But…” I can’t even think. “Why would you worry about losing me?”

  “Because I already almost did.”

  My knees buckle at that moment. I hold my weight against the wall.

  “Did you ever ask why I was in that coffee shop the day before the report was released?” Roman asks. “I work on the other side of town. It’s well out of the way home for me. Why else do you think I’d be in the coffee shop on that day – one day before the election report was scheduled to be released?”

  How close had I been to death without even realizing it?

  “I was asked to run the election report for my boss, Finn,” Roman explains. He blinks rapidly, the memories coming back to him. “The crazy thing is that I wasn’t even thinking about the names on the list. Instead, I just kept thinking that this was my shot to prove that I could be more than just an IT Technician.”

  My name.

  One out of ten thousand.

  It was like finding a drop of iodine in an ocean.

  “But then I stumbled on your name,” Roman continues. He looks at his hands, as though they might have the answers. “Right next to it was your date of birth. I thought, ‘That’s weird. How does a nineteen-year-old girl end up on the election report?’ I thought it was a glitch – a broken filter, perhaps. But just in case, I went to your workplace to get a gauge on who you were – and I knew the second that I saw you that you didn’t deserve to be on that list, so I took your name out.”

  “I can’t believe it,” I breathe, my mind still in shock. Roman had saved my life, and all these months, I had never known.

  “I don’t know much,” he admits. “But from what I’ve heard, your family messed with some very dangerous people.”

  I shake my head, unable and unwilling to believe that anyone in my family would do anything to put me in this situation. My relationship with my father was complicated, but he loved me. During the few times that he did visit us, he had spoiled me rotten. There’s no way he’d sell me out.

  My thoughts are interrupted by Roman grabbing my hands. “I know you don’t believe me.”

  “I don’t. I can’t.”

  “It’ll sink in.”

  “Will it?” I ask. “Even if it does, will it even matter? How long will it be before the Bureau realizes what you’ve done?”

  “I don’t know,” Roman admits. “I’m doing everything I can, though.” He looks away. “Some of it is outright illegal.” I laugh at that. “But no matter what happens, I need you to trust me.”

  “I trust you.”

  Roman raises an eyebrow. “Do you? Because not too long ago, you were telling me that you couldn’t differentiate between the Bureau and me.”

  I look away, realizing that he has a point. Despite my newly gained knowledge, there’s still a part of me that may never trust Roman simply for his association with the Divinity Bureau. “I want to,” I admit. “I just wish I could understand why you didn’t tell me all of this sooner.”

  Roman sighs. “I know. I shouldn’t have kept it from you – but our relationship was go
ing so well that I was afraid that it’d scare you off. Saying that I broke a few laws to save your life isn’t exactly an ideal first date topic.”

  I laugh. “That is a little scary.”

  “Then I would’ve never had the chance to kiss you,” Roman says, his voice cracking. “Or hold you. Or be with you.” He looks away. “The last few months have been the happiest of my life. I wouldn’t do anything differently.”

  With those words, I’ve forgiven Roman. I get on my toes to kiss him gently – but, starved of my affection, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me close. At that moment, I realize that I can trust him. There’s no safer place for me than right here.

  He pulls away, taking a deep breath. His expression turns grim. “There’s one more thing that you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You once asked me if I ever counted how many people have died since I started working for the Bureau.”

  My breath catches in my throat. I’ve been so cruel to him. “Roman, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “It’s okay,” he says, which makes me feel even worse. “I never counted how many people have died since I started working for the bureau. But I know how many people were on the list that I met you: ten thousand, four hundred and twenty-one.”

  I inhale a breath, the number incomprehensible to me.

  “I managed to save one,” he whispers. “I know that doesn’t seem like a lot; but to me, it counts for something.”

  I pull him in for another kiss, light and chaste. As I pull away, I whisper, “Thank you.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  ROMAN

  I ’m greeted by a swarm of reporters as soon as I get to work that morning.

  “Sir, do you work for the Divinity Bureau?”

  “Do you have a comment?”

  “Why do you think the bureau has decided to elect five thousand underage candidates?”

  “My daughter was elected, you fucking prick!”

  I keep walking. I’m not allowed to speak on behalf of the bureau, and I have no desire to. Michael, the security guard at the door, gives me a sympathetic glance. I tell myself that the chaos would die down as soon as I get inside.

  “Excuse me,” someone brushing past me says.

  I frown. The voice belongs to a dark-haired man wearing a freshly pressed suit. I’m certain I’ve seen him before. But before I have the chance to dwell on it, I’m passed by another man in a suit. And another.

  Something is off. As I make my way to my desk, I see a plethora of unfamiliar faces. While I don’t know everyone that works in the bureau’s headquarters, I know enough to realize that something is going on. My suspicions are confirmed when I walk past Finn’s office and find a stern-faced man occupying the otherwise-empty side of the room.

  I turn the opposite direction, thinking that I might be best finding answers in the breakroom. When I see a fresh-faced group of staffers standing near a vending machine, I decide to ask them. A low-level employee like me will never be able to get answers directly from a district chairperson, but I can still count on the old-fashioned way: gossip.

  “Hey,” I greet, stepping into their conversation. “Do you know what’s with all the guys in suits?”

  “Roman!” a girl exclaims, her eyes growing wide. I think her name is Amy? “I thought you were dead! I made you a ticket last week, but you never got back to me!””

  “Sorry,” I say immediately. I’ve been neglecting my work in the last few weeks. “I, err, had a family emergency.”

  “Did someone in your family get elected?” a blonde-haired boy named David chimes.

  “Something like that,” I say vaguely. “Anyways, do any of you know what’s going on? I think Theo Rodgers is in town. He’s a district chairman that supposedly shares an office with Finn, but he’s never in town unless something major is going on.”

  “Oh, something major is going on,” says Amy. “The whole bureau is having a summit here – all five hundred and sixty districts. They flew everyone out and everything.”

  I stare at her in shock. “Why… why would they do that?”

  The Divinity Bureau’s central office is in District 1, which is where the Executive, Legislative, and Judicial Branches are. Wouldn’t they fly them out there instead? I don’t think the Midwest District’s Headquarters can even house 560 chair people and their staffers!

  “Gideon called it,” says Amy. “Apparently, he did some calculations and found that our overpopulation problem is worse than they’ve let on. They’re holding a big summit to address the issue.”

  “Calculations?” I ask, appalled. The man can barely use a computer!

  “I heard that the Western districts are opposed to changing anything,” David asserts. “Arielle was talking to one of their personal assistants. Apparently, the twelfth district’s chairman –”

  “Chairwoman,” Amy corrects, narrowing her eyes.

  “Chairwoman,” David repeats, flushing. “Anyways, I heard that she’s supposed to be giving a speech about how the answer isn’t to elect more people – but to adapt.”

  That reminds me of something April once said: “I just had this thought that maybe if we all had good intentions – if we all decided that we wanted to leave the world a little better than before – it can be our greatest strength instead of our greatest weakness.”

  “How does she plan to do that?” Amy asks skeptically. “That doesn’t sound realistic at all.”

  “I don’t know. I just don’t want to die anytime soon.”

  I open my mouth to add to the conversation; but I stop when I hear footsteps behind me, storming into the room like thunder. “What the hell are you guys doing?” Finn booms from behind me.

  My coworkers immediately jump as soon as they hear Finn’s voice.

  “Do you not see this building swarming with district chairmen?” Finn barks. “Get back to work!”

  The break room immediately empties out, but I’m standing there in stupefaction. Never, in my two years of working at the Divinity Bureau, have I seen Finn raise his voice. Even when I blackmailed him, he didn’t sound as angry as he does now. “Finn…”

  “Did you not hear me, Irvine?” Finn asks, his voice lowered.

  “What’s gotten into you?” I ask.

  I regret my words as soon as I’m met with Finn’s fiery glare.

  “Is everything okay?” I correct, softening my tone.

  Finn doesn’t respond. Instead, he turns to walk away. I take that as a sign that I should do the same.

  By lunchtime, the swarm of reporters is joined by a throng of protesters. The building is soundproof, so I’m deaf to the commotion happening outside, but that doesn’t stop me from hearing Gideon pacing across his office. As he paces, I overhear Finn telling Gideon that the crowd is getting rowdy.

  “Call the police,” Gideon growls.

  “I already did.”

  “And?”

  “They say that there’s nothing we can do to stop the protesters from protesting, but they did offer to stand guard to make sure that no property damage or riots occur.”

  I was planning on grabbing lunch with April, but it sounds like I’m going to need to cancel. It’s bad enough that I’m subject to harassment from the media. April, the daughter of Henrik McIntyre and his newly elected widow, would be destroyed out there. I take advantage of Finn and Gideon’s distracted state to send April a quick text.

  ME: It’s a media frenzy outside the bureau right now.

  “You have to understand, Gideon, that the agency headquarters is public property,” I hear Finn say. “We can’t just deny them their right of free speech.”

  “You call it free speech? It looks more like an angry mob to me!”

  I shrink in my chair, determined to stay out of sight. As I do, my Mobiroid vibrates.

  APRIL: No kidding! The freeway exit closed. Apparently, the protesters are taking up an entire block!

  My eyes widen. A whole block? I want to
move closer to a window, but I’m worried about catching the attention of Finn and Gideon.

  “Well, it’s the first time in seven years that every chairman is in the same place,” Finn points out. “In light of the bureau’s most recent decision, I don’t think you can blame the public for wanting their voices heard. How would you feel if it was your kid on the election list?”

  Gideon lowers his tone. “Don’t mix business with your personal life.”

  There’s a long pause. When Finn speaks, he sounds defeated: “I’m just saying.”

  Something is going on with Finn. Did someone close to him get elected? I debate on looking up his last name, but my Mobiroid vibrates before I get the chance.

  APRIL: There's a Chinese restaurant on Lau Street. Meet me there?

  I glance at the time: half-past one. I don’t want to stand April up, but I don’t think I’m going to have a choice. I think of the traffic she must have endured to get here and feel terrible, but there isn’t any way that I’m going to be able to leave the building without either getting swarmed by the media or facing the wrath of my superiors.

  ME: April, I'm sorry – but I don't think I'm going to make it out of here.

  I close my eyes as I hit the ‘send’ button.

  In between texts, Gideon and Finn have moved their conversation elsewhere, so I walk to the closest window. I’m not the only one. Half of the office crams in front of the window, standing on their toes to get a glimpse of what’s happening.

  At the front of the pack are the reporters that I’d seen that morning. They’re joined by a mass of people that stretches along the blocks and past my field of vision. Some have taken to standing in the parking lot of a nearby convenience store. Many are holding signs – an impressive feat, considering how hard it is to find the paper to make them. I can picture people scavenging the recycling bin for whatever material they can get their hands on, all so that their voices may be heard.

  “Can you pop open a window?” a dark haired girl in the back requests. “I want to hear what they’re saying.”