As she thought about it, Freya realized she had never met anyone who lived independently. She wondered if it was an area on the outskirts of society. Her mother’s words about there being a good reason came back to her. Will I become an outcast, someone society doesn’t want to look upon? Moments after that grim thought struck her, her emotions settled. She preferred to be alone, so it didn’t matter if she was shuttled off to a secluded area. Perhaps others do not need me or want me, she thought, but I don’t need them or want them either.
She continued looking out the window at the dark wall, but she did sense that the train seemed to be traveling at an upward angle. The wall beside her kept getting lower and lower, and the compartment was getting brighter. Finally, the train pulled into a large, above-ground atrium and came to a stop.
“Parliament Station! All passengers must exit the train,” the automated system announced.
Freya’s knees trembled as she stood. She had never seen such a large, brightly lit area. She left the train with the other passengers and stood on the platform, looking around and taking it all in. The ceiling was very high up, constructed completely of glass. It was almost like being in a greenhouse that adjoined two buildings, but the greenhouses she knew of could not even remotely compare in size. Rather than angular, like most ceilings she had seen, this was a rounded dome, fashioned out of hundreds of triangular pieces of glass.
The train shortly left the terminal, heading back into the underground, and that was Freya’s cue that she had to quit gawking and get to her destination, wherever that was. The area was so vast she had no idea what direction she should go. There were far more people bustling about than she had ever seen before, and they all looked like they were in a hurry to get somewhere. She finally spotted a free-standing scanner not too far away. She didn’t know what its purpose was, but she hoped it might at least alert Security to point her in the right direction.
“Freya 117, verified. Follow the red-lit path to your destination,” the automated system directed.
The lights that came on this time were a bit different than what Freya was used to. Rather than being imbedded in the wall, these were little dots in the floor. The open space made her feel a little uneasy, because she was so used to narrow underground walkways, and the lack of walls left her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Still, she had no choice but to walk on, following the little red path in the floor.
Up ahead, she saw a building, and when she glanced up, she saw that the dome was connected to it. In fact, part of the building jutted out above the dome structure. She walked to the elevator and scanned in.
The door opened, and Freya was rather surprised when she stepped inside and was carried down, into the lower levels of the tall building. When the doors opened, she saw she was once again on an underground walkway, and everything looked almost identical to the area she was familiar with. She felt a little more relaxed in that setting and was glad to see that the red lights were in the wall this time, like she was used to.
She soon arrived at another elevator and placed her hand in the scanner, but there was no automated voice, and the lights did not change. In a panic, fearing she was lost or had failed to follow instructions somewhere along her route, Freya darted her eyes around, trying to figure out what to do.
“Freya 117, please hold,” said a voice over a loudspeaker, startling her.
Truly, it was one of the oddest things that had happened to her so far, as it was an actual voice, the voice of Security personnel and not just an automated recording.
A feeling of terror began to rise in her. She wondered if she had done something wrong and feared she would be taken in for questioning. Her father had told her he had seen people after an interrogation from the State. He said they looked normal sometimes, but others returned quite different, and seemed to jump at every noise and look over their shoulder constantly. “Sometimes, they don’t return at all,” he’d once told her.
“Freya 117, please proceed to Room 1515,” said the voice.
Freya obediently stepped into the elevator and waited for her ride to the fifteenth floor. When the doors whooshed open, she stepped into a wide corridor lined with doors, each with its own scanner. She located Room 1515 and scanned in. The door unlocked, and she opened it, not knowing what to expect on the other side.
The room was nothing like Freya expected. For one thing, it was quite large. There was a monitor on the wall, not far from the door. Facing it was a sofa, though it was not one that turned into a bed; rather, it was a normal sofa, like the one she remembered sitting on in her parents’ home. It was large enough for three people, and Freya wondered why she would need such a huge piece of furniture for just herself. She walked into the bathroom and saw that it was also like her parents’ place, with a bathtub instead of just a shower stall. There was a large bed in the middle of the bedroom, flanked with nightstands on both sides.
Looking around, Freya figured the place had to be at least 500 square feet, and it was absolutely massive to her. What on Earth do I need all this space for? she wondered. It seemed so wasteful, as it had to take longer to clean and would definitely require more energy for heating and cooling. Why would they place a single person in such a dwelling? she silently questioned. Maybe this is what adults are supposed to have. Perhaps my other apartment was small not to conserve resources as much as to keep me focused on my studies, she reasoned. Maybe these rooms are large because adults are allowed to have company, instead of just socializing in common rooms in their free time.
She plopped down on the edge of the bed, not sure what to do with herself. She then noticed a large closet. Curious to see if her new uniforms were there, she looked inside and saw several jumpsuits hanging together. She pulled one out to look at it, figuring it was her civil duty uniform. Next, she saw the same t-shirt she was wearing, with matching pants on the same hanger. There were also pajamas as well. She picked up a black jumpsuit and stood there staring at it, trying to comprehend why a Security officer’s uniform was hanging in her massive closet. She looked down and saw a laundry bin on the floor, half-full of dirty clothing.
“I-I wasn’t selected at all,” she muttered very quietly, stunned at the understanding that suddenly flooded her mind. “I’ve been…coupled!”
Chapter 5
Freya’s mind went blank, and a feeling of numbness came over her. The uniform fell from her hands; she had forgotten she was holding it, so she just left it on the floor, a wadded puddle of black fabric. In a haze, she walked over to the sofa and sat down. A dull pain was forming at the base of her head and behind her eyes. Her vision periodically blurred, which may have been a problem if she was trying to focus on anything in particular. I’ve been…coupled, she thought again, and a bitter acidity began to creep into her throat. How could this happen to me? Her eyes filled with tears. How could the State make such a foolish decision? All those tests, and they still coupled me? This has to be some kind of mistake.
Yes, that has to be it. A mistake, she thought. I just need to look around and find a way to get back to where I’m supposed to be. That must be why the Security officer made me wait at the door, because I’m not supposed to be here. He was waiting for someone else, not me.
Freya walked over to the monitor on the wall and tried to find some way to access the computer system, hoping to find a message for the individual who was supposed to be there. She turned on the computer, and a message was flashing in the inbox. Unfortunately, that message was addressed to her:
Freya 117:
Welcome to your new permanent residence. We are pleased to inform you that due to your high test scores and history of excellence, your civil duty assignment will be in the personal home and grounds of the head of State. You are expected to report to duty tomorrow at 08:00. Your partner is part of the Security team, and he has already been instructed to assist you in finding your way tomorrow.
It is among the highest honors to be chosen to work directly for the head of State. Your parents ha
ve been notified of your remarkable achievement and informed of your coupling.
Regards,
The State
Freya stood with her mouth agape, staring at the message. She read it again and again and again, and each time she ran her eyes over those words, she searched for some indication she’d read it incorrectly. She hadn’t though. Freya had been coupled, and not only that, but the male was already aware and had already been instructed to assist her the next day. Her parents knew before she did. She sat down on the sofa, leaving the horrible message open.
Freya stared at the floor, as she could not bear to look at the monitor again. She did not even want to look at the apartment, as it was not just her residence. She would have to share it with someone, and they hadn’t even bothered to tell her his name. I bet he knows my name, she silently seethed. Hell, my parents probably know his name already too. Why am I always the last to know everything about me? She didn’t feel angry; instead, she felt defeated, like she was the punchline of some awful inside joke. The only thing she had ever truly wanted, her independence, had been taken from her, and she was the last to find out about it. She figured it had to be similar to what Gita felt like when she was sterilized. Tears welled in the corners of Freya’s eyes, but she refused to spill a single drop, as choosing not to cry was the only thing she had control over in her entire life. I’m an adult now, and adults don’t cry, she told herself.
While Freya continued staring at the floor, she heard the lock on the door unbolt, and the door swung open. A male, dressed in a black Security uniform like the one Freya had found in the closet, walked into the apartment and closed the door behind him. He stood there for a moment, staring at her, but Freya could not bring herself to look up at him. She decided she needed a little more time to keep her gaze glued on the floor.
“Uh…Freya?” he asked nervously.
“Yep,” she said, still keeping her eyes on her feet.
“Uh, well… Welcome home, I guess,” he said, bouncing a bit on the balls of his feet. He displayed a nervous energy about him, which was odd for a man of his stature. He was tall, with broad shoulders and sharp features. He might have even looked a little intimidating, but he had deep eyes that sparkled along with a nice smile which softened him greatly. His dark hair was incredibly thick, nearly standing on end in a spiked up fashion, where more often men wore their hair sleeked back.
Freya took a quick glimpse of him, and returned her gaze to the floor, unable to face him. She had just made a commitment to never cry again, and she knew looking at him would force her to break that commitment. She sat in silence, not caring to be polite. In fact, she didn’t care about much at all.
He looked around the room, as if he was unsure what to do with himself. He finally walked over to the sofa and perched himself halfway on the arm, as if he was afraid to get too close to her. “So you found the place okay, huh?” he said, his voice rising an octave, indicating he was almost as tense as she was.
“Yep,” she said yet again. She knew theirs had to be the most horrible introduction of a couple in all time, yet she somehow could not bring herself to care. With that thought, a spark ignited in her. It’s so incredibly simple! Why didn’t I think of it before? she scolded herself. Sabotage! All I have to do is make sure this match goes horribly wrong that the State has to send me to independent living. If I just keep acting like this, surely this guy will demand a recoupling, and they’ll remove me from this hell. She had never heard of anyone being moved that way, but it was her only chance, and she had to try. She needed to prove to the State they had made a mistake in pairing her.
“You’re quite the chatterbox, aren’t you, Freya? Man, I’m worried you won’t ever let me sleep, with all that chirping you do,” he teased.
Freya still did not look up at him, but as hard as she tried, she could not repress a slight smile from forming on her lips. His sarcastic remark did slightly amuse her, but even funnier was the fact that Security had to be monitoring them. I bet they’re having a good laugh, she thought. They will have the pleasure of witnessing the worst paring ever, and it’s about to get a whole lot worse. Perhaps it will even make history. She continued to look at the floor, but that had less to do with her still being upset and more to do with her having to stick to the plan. She did not know what else to do but make it up as she went along. It wouldn’t be too difficult of a ruse for Freya. She didn’t really have any friends, and every time someone tried to make conversation with her, they always told her she was weird. This will be a breeze, she thought, hiding another slight grin.
“Well, so far, I know your name is Freya, you work with plants, and you are obviously some sort of poster child for compliance,” he said.
Her head involuntarily snapped up, and she looked at him for the first time. “Poster child? What do you mean?” The words came flying out of her mouth before she remembered she wasn’t planning to speak or look at him.
“What, poster child?”
She nodded.
“You know, like if you wanted to convince me that a plant is the best plant of all time, you’d make a poster with that plant on it and show it to everyone to convince them,” he tried to explain.
“Why would I put a plant on a poster?” she asked, a little harshly. How could the State be so wrong? she wondered as she stared at him in disbelief. Not only had they tried to couple her, but they’d attached her to a babbling idiot.
He let out a little sigh, but Freya was pleased he seemed to be getting frustrated with her. “Okay, I guess that was a terrible example, but that’s sorta my thing.”
“What?”
He shrugged. “I like to make up bad analogies that fail. It’s what I do. Let me try again though.”
“If you must,” Freya said, wishing he would just shut up.
“The State wants citizens to uphold the highest level of compliance. A poster child is sort of a slang term, meaning a perfect representation. All I’m saying is that to land the job you did, you must have the most unbelievably squeaky-clean record. They could make posters of you and put them up everywhere, encouraging everyone to be like you. See? Poster child.”
Freya continued to stare at him. Apparently, her first impression of him being a babbling idiot was an understatement; he was an absolute moron. Obviously uncomfortable under the power of her harsh stare, he began to look around the room and rock back and forth, and a sudden thought dawned on her. Freya knew she had to play her cards wisely. She did have a very clean record, as he put it, and if she just blatantly refused the coupling, it would not reflect well on her. She could not be openly hostile toward him. She had to find ways of making everything unpleasant for him, without it looking too intentional. Realizing this, she mustered a half-smile and said, “Oh. Well, yes, it makes more sense now. Thank you for clarifying.”
The statement was polite and civil, and she said it in the same impersonal tone she would have used for someone who had just offered her a cup of tea. She decided this was the approach she needed to take whenever she had to interact with him. That way, anyone who was monitoring them would only see her being polite, and they couldn’t fault her for that. Just like that, Freya’s plan started to unfold before her. She was sure it would only be a matter of time before they were taken in for questioning. When that happened, she would tell them he was kind and that she was grateful to have him as a match. Let him be the one who complains, the one who asks for a recoupling. They’ll see me trying to get along with him, and they’ll see him as noncompliant.
She continued to look at him, saying nothing but gazing at him pleasantly, albeit not warmly or affectionately. When he broke eye contact with her and darted his eyes around the apartment again, Freya figured he was trying to think of something to say.
A moment later, he got up off the arm of the sofa and walked over to the kitchen area. It was furnished with a small table and two chairs, presumably for mealtime. Freya had always eaten her meals on the sofa or at the desk, as there was no table in h
er old apartment. The rest of the kitchen was similar to her previous one. There was a sink, with a cupboard above it, and a small counter with a dish-drying rack. She assumed the cupboard contained cups, breakfast bars, and tea, the normal staples of kitchens of the time. All afternoon and evening meals were delivered, so there was no need for other items to be stored.
He walked to the cupboard, pulled out a glass, then hesitated. “You want some water, Freya?” he asked, holding the glass up, as if he needed to explain where water came from.
Freya had a hard time keeping the fake pleasant look on her face, because he really was a moron, but she managed to maintain the forced half-smile and said, “Yes, that would be nice. Thank you.”
Compliant: A Young Adult Dystopian Romance (The State Series Book 1) Page 7
