Saving Insanity

Chapter 2: Increasing Numbers

Libya's eyes stopped on my Sorter identification badge. Her lips curved into another smile, showing off her profound wrinkles. "A Sorter," she began, "children are of no good extinction of Mutts, but of course that is all you see."

"So you can organize your thoughts," I whispered the sentence, my monotone lessening more with each syllable. The wind tunneled across the fields, each Mutt glancing up at the old woman and I. Libya took a step towards me, our noses almost touching. "Time. There is more than meets the eye, Miss Sorter." She uttered her words quietly before yanking her rake out of the ground and returning to her work.

My hands remained on the fence, my fingers beginning to shed blood from the sharp metal. I pulled them off and slowly walked backwards to gather my bag. My gaze remained on Libya, then the rest of the field for only seconds before I snapped my head the other way and hurried off down the street.

I took off a fast walk, my eagerness quickly turning it into a jog. My skirt stretched at my knees, my bag dangling off my shoulder as I hopped up my front porch. I slammed my palm against the scanner, impatiently waiting for the door to click open. Shoving myself through it I raced to my bedroom, opening the blinds of my window.

My heels clicked against the tile floor as I stood on the far side, facing out towards the field as I fumbled through my bag for my mobile screen. I swiped the screen, bringing up the Section Exam results. I sorted each child by age, the screen flickering with hundreds of different names and numbers. My finger pressed down on the percentage button, loading an assortment of charts.

I examined the numbers momentarily, the results filtering through my mind. I raised my head just so my eyes could focus on the edge of the farming fields. Hugging the mobile screen to my chest I carried myself closer to the window.

68% of five year olds were considered Mutts, 46% to be Institution, 14% to be Worker, and 8% to be Home. Six year olds had results of an average of 55% to be Mutts. And those who slipped under the radar and took their Section Exam at age seven, only 43% of them were classified as Mutts.

I wiped the sweat from my hands on my skirt, bringing my hand up to press the white button on the glass desk against the window. "Libya, Institution Mutt, District A," I spoke clearly to ensure easy recognition. Instantly a picture of the woman I had spoken to only minutes before appeared on the wall closest to my bedroom door.

I walked towards it, sliding across the projection with my fingers. She had taken her Section Exam at the age of five. The mobile screen dropped from my hands, clattering loudly against the tile floor. I stepped over it, slamming my fist against the button to open the closet. Stripping off my work outfit I tore the badge off my chest and slipped into my orange street dress.

I lowered my bun into a simple ponytail, meaning to disrespect no one, and snatched my mobile screen and bag off the floor before rushing through the front door. My attitude remained calm, as Idols were not supposed to be anxious.

The bar was not far from my home. The large, protective doors concealed all and any minors from entering. The Guard nodded his head at me before I stepped inside, the neon lights flickering to the beat of the loud music playing above our heads. Idols filled the tables, each outfit brighter than the next. Drinking was a common thing among the districts, usually more popular in the richer ones such as A and B. Alcohol was an expensive purchase, and each Idol was measured in toxicity level before exiting the bar. If exceeding the limit, a district vehicle was sent along with a bill for the usage.

Slipping through the mass of tables I lifted myself into the bar stool beside a tall blonde with her ponytail falling to the top of her pink, leather dress. "I did not think you would be joining me, Ireland," the woman raised her glass to her bright red lips.

"I knew where to find you, India," I turned to the Tender for a drink. He slid it across the marble counter where it landed in my palm. I took a long sip of the toxin, letting it burn down my throat. My eyes returned to my friend, her opposite features highlighted in dark makeup as she glanced around the room.

"And what brought you to join me?" she spun the glass in her hand, a smirk forming on her thick lips, "I barely even knew my dear friend was alive. But I had forgotten she was a Sorter."

The music filled the silence between us, Idols dancing behind our backs. India was a Basic. Those who had achieved a high enough level on the Section Exam to belong in District A, but too low to be offered a career in anything else but food stations and market places, was placed as a Basic. Basics were the poorest Idol group of District A, and every district had them.

"I was offered to be a Sorter. I could not turn it down if I wanted to remain in District A," I informed her again, even knowing she had not forgotten. India smirked again, flipping her ponytail to the side where she looked at me for the first time, "For someone so against the ways of the New World, you sure do send a lot of beings to the Institutions."

I stared at her, our eyes in their own war, feeling the words that had not been said. My gaze dropped, feeling her victorious smile above me. I pulled my mobile screen out of my bag and slid it in front of her. I watched behind her as she examined the screen to make sure no unwanted eyes were peeking. She pushed the screen back to me and tightened her ponytail, "So what does a bunch of numbers have to do with me?"

"India," I leaned closer towards her, "It is more than obvious that age is a strong factor in classification. What if the tests are just taken too young?"

My friend lowered her glass to the counter, shaking her head slowly, "If age was the only factor, then there would not be any five year olds passing the Section Exam." Her blue eyes pierced mine before they turned soft, "Think about it, Ireland. Aging does not mean your souls disappear."

"And who decided having more souls made you crazy?" My response came quickly, causing me to glance around for other listening Idols. My voice lowered, "What if we are crazy?"

"You have had too much to drink, Ireland," her eyes met mine for another moment before she punched her pin number into the pay screen on the counter and stood up. "India," my hand stopped her, her body halting with my fingers wrapped around her arm. She shrugged me off, but she did not leave. I stared at her, my dark eyes reaching deep into her one soul, "You must believe me. At least," my hand rested on her shoulder, "consider it."

We stood facing one another, our voices quiet and our eyes loud. The commotion went on around us, the music playing and glasses clanging against one another. India placed her hand over mine and pushed it off her shoulder, "Life is to short to be worrying about Mutts."

She turned away from me, her tall form gliding out of the bar. My feet remained planted in the same spot, my eyes watching the place where she left. I returned back to the counter where I slid back into the bar stool. My hands wrapped around the glass, the condensation cooling my fingers.

There had been numerous occasions in which India had walked away from me through all the years since we had met at our first family home in District A. She had been torn away from her family in District C just to be a Basic in District A. But those weren't the reasons she had walked away from me, only reasons she hated the system.

Only two of the times I had watched her back as she left remained in my mind.

1) A moment ago when she had wanted nothing to do with any Idols or any Mutts.

2) When her five year old daughter had been sorted into an Institution out of the district.