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Seraphina ran a finger over the front of the impeccably clean mahogany desk in front of her. Of course, her finger came off clean, reflecting the level of discipline Ministry Officers upheld.

After all, if any illegal activity were to occur, the Ministry would be the first place to be put under fire.

When the people in power realised that the Great Divide had caused the population to dwindle below sustainable numbers, a desperate plan was put in place to allow the natural process of mating to occur.

Thus, the Midlands were conceived: a place for the brightest and best of the North and Southlands to date and create offspring, before the offspring were taken back to the respective places to grow up in their own societies.

The Ministry of the South (or MOTS for short), was established to process these applicants and ensure that the strongest traits for survival could be passed down, simultaneously managing the population issue whilst avoiding over-population like the Dark Ages by controlling the in-flows and out-flows of the country.

The Great Ancestors had revolutionised the way population control occurred in Castell.

Seraphina held this thought in mind as the officer gave her temporary leave around the Processing room as she processed all of her information.

Seraphina straightened her coat in a subtle attempt to fit in with the immaculate lining of the desks, each emerald desk lamp turned to a perfect 45 degree angle on the left edge of each desk. A large, golden chandelier split the centre of the room into perfect symmetry, its bulbs left unlit due to the lack of Dark Age technology.

Instead, the room was illuminated by the sun hitting against the metal walls of the surrounding buildings, providing the ambience of an open space. Against the large of expanse of wall that ran down the room were glass cases filled with countless artefacts that buzzed the sociology and historical nerd button within Seraphina.

iPhones, iPods, and Surface Pros lay dormant in the technology exhibit.

Hardcover books from classics such as Sarah J Maas, JK Rowling and Rick Riordan were left to yellow and age in their untouched states.

A paper image of the most hated President in history was sandwiched between a map of the Old Worlds BGD (Before the Great Divide) and an article claiming the fall of the human race as temperatures soared past the 50 degree celsius limit.

The Dark Ages really lived up to their name.

Cataloguing any important information into her little imaginary files, Seraphina bounded her way back to her desk, mind in frantic excitement as she considered the possibilities of living like the Great Ancestors in the Midlands, passing many women along the way who probably thought the same.

Plopping down in front of the Ministry Officer, Seraphina observed the perfectly-pressed brown pants and white blouse uniform of the officer, not a crease in sight.

"So," Seraphina said in a hushed voice, so as not to disturb the other hushed conversations that took place around her. "How's my application going? Trust me, I'm not a bad person." Seraphina let out a nervous chuckle as she realised that that was exactly what a sketchy person probably would have said.

Fortunately (or unfortunately), the officer's attention never left the paper-thin screen that sat in front of her, her perfectly-manicured fingers flying across the holographic keyboard. Pressing her lips tightly, Seraphina looked down at her scarf, fiddling with the ends.

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