A row of young people stood against the walls of the corridor, heels together, arms straight by their sides. They were all of an age where it was difficult to know whether or not to address them as children: perhaps thirteen or fourteen years.
They dressed alike, in crisp, white uniforms with a silver insignia embroidered on each starched collar. Two girls with hair tightly braided down the backs of their heads, four boys with military crewcuts. They looked older than they really were, adults shrunken down to a miniature scale.
There was an air of expectation, though not one face would betray it. There was something charged in the air, the feeling of a new era about to begin. Yet the children remained in line, patient, tall, eyes staring directly ahead.
A group of professionals – scientists or doctors – walked up and down in front of them, inspecting them perhaps. Not one word was spoken until, eventually, a name was called.
“John Sandor.”
The boy in the centre of the line snapped his head round to face them. He didn’t speak. The speaker stared at him for a long time before nodding.
“This way, Sandor.”
The boy – John – followed him out of the corridor and into the first room. Something passed like an electric current along the line though nothing about their outward appearance changed. It had begun. It was here. They could feel it.
One by one, the six were called into the room. When the last one was left, it was apparent that it was taking all his self-control to remain standing to attention, to not shuffle his feet with anxiety. Finally, they called for him as well.
Not one of the six stepped back out into the corridor.
YOU ARE READING
Awake
Science FictionWhen Jonathan Sand died one night trying to save the girl he loved, he did not expect to wake up the next morning and find that everything he had ever known was a figment of his imagination. Rising from a simulated dream, six members of the Junior...
