Imperfect Freedom

Eight

"Six, twelve, eighteen, twenty four, thirty, thirty six, forty two, forty eight, fifty four, sixty, sixty six, seventy two."
The class recites.

"Good. Keep on going if you can." Ms Rathe says. Ms Rathe is our other teacher, and she's loads nicer than Ms Redden. Together they teach all the primary care nursery students, ranging from the fives and six year olds that can barely form their alphabets to the eights and nine year olds that are being taught half of their time on the importance of a stabilised mind, and the problems you are going to have to face in your life.

"Seventy eight, eighty four, ninety, ninety six, one hundred and two," slowly, more of the class trail off, until eventually it is just Drew Broke still counting. Since I have become friends with Electra, I have barely spoken a word to Drew. I used to be friends with Praia Dole, one of the girls who I shared a room with, but then she became friends with Drew, a she devil who I wished had never been born into the dome. Drew tried to kick me out of Praia's friend group, and, in the end, she succeeded because I found Electra.

Drew is still counting.

"Thank you Drew, you can stop now." Ms Rathe says, trying to hide her bitterness. Ms Rathe doesn't like Drew, for who knows what reason.

"Okay Miss." Drew replies, completely ignorant to the teachers dislike.

Ms Rathe smiles at us all. "Good job everyone. You all managed to make it to above your ten times tables. Well done! Now, could you pull out your history books and lets do a quick quiz. If you need to consult your books, that is fine, just make sure to try without first."

My ears perk up at this. History is one of the few subjects that interest me, mainly because I get to see what life was like before the complex occasionally, when we learn about the early 21st century.

"Okay class, first question. Who... was the first president of the Complex."

I lift my hand and Ms Rathe smiles at me. "Gemma?"

"The first president of the Complex was Gordon Trey, previous ruler of the American states." I tell her proudly.

She smiles warmly at me. "Correct Gemma. Next question. In what year..." she pauses, thinking, "Ah, yes. In what year did our current president step up to the podium and how is she related to Gordon Trey."

A boy in the class raises his hand, surprising me. The boys usually never offered to say anything in class, they just sat at the back and made a nuisance of themselves. As I examine him, I notice this boy is different than the others. He sits with straight posture, not hunched over or slumped on the chairs like the boys at the back. He has quiet skittish grey eyes, and skin so pale he looks almost like a ghost. He has a shock of jet black hair atop his head that spikes up towards the back.

"Yes Ben?" Ms Rathe says, clearly surprised by his interest as well.

Ben clears his throat, and in a small voice he says, "Aril Trey stepped up to president 11 years ago, shortly before her father and mother died. Her great grandfather was Gordon Trey, and she was 22 years old when she became the president of the Complex. As president, she sees over all the government facilities, such as the nursery, the hospitals, the blacks and the farms outside the dome."

Ms Rathe smiles. "Correct Ben, but I really only wanted you to answer the question."

Ben blushes.

"Anyways, next question is... How did the war begin?" Ms Rathe is met by silence.

We all know this. We all know exactly how the war started. We all know how the complex was established. But this knowledge is not supposed to be repeated. This is the things the teachers avoid. Ms Rathe doesn't seem to know that.