The Hamartia Project

Chapter Two- Luca (Totalitarian Communism Dictatorship)

"And if I don't like the person who I am Matched with?"

"The person who has been selected for you has been thoroughly analyzed by officials. Your traits and personality will Match seamlessly."

I was building myself up for the question that I couldn't wait to ask. Twelve-year-old me was a little too confident.

"What if my Match and I are so perfectly Matched that we both want to hide our kids from the government?"

I remember watching as the person's lips slid into a deep frown, a line that seemed to be permanently etched into the features of the face. I remember watching as the eyes narrowed, slits that seemed to be watching me too closely.

Within minutes, I was sitting in a steel gray room, just hoping that I wouldn't get in trouble. I was nervously tapping my feet against the ground, shaking my right leg up and down. I stood up and trotted to one side of the room, plopped down on the floor, rose up, and repeated the steps over and over again.

No one had come in to talk to me since I had asked that rebellious question, and the fear was trickling into my mind. It slid around like water, filling up the tiny crevices of my mind. It reached as far back as it could and swallowed my mind up until I was consumed with a fear so strong that I thought I was going to choke on it.

It was at that moment that I had the greatest epiphany about my life. Years composed of hazy bits of memories suddenly became clear. Growing up in Carehouses with attendants nurturing you, teaching you, and explaining basic traits like sharing until I understood who society wanted me to be, but I didn't understand who I was. After Carehouses, it was school. Dorms that taught us how to coexist together, teachers who weren't afraid to hit us until we felt like the thoughts in our minds couldn't become words on our tongue, and peers who molded themselves to fit who we were told to be.

Mindless people, numb to the world, and only knowing the pain of our own thoughts because there was no one there to listen.

I realized that nothing in our lives was worth fighting for. Someone, something, or some part of my life could never be important enough for me to die for it. I would never risk my life to save something. Nothing was worth it.

Nothing could ever be worth living for or dying for; everything was worth walking through life and continuing to live like the people we are. Struggling for every breath before society snuffs out our own way of thinking.

I vowed at that moment to think unconventionally because we were taught that thinking conventionally led to the perfect utopia we lived in, but I couldn't imagine anything worse than my freedom being violated every day. Existing, thinking, and living suddenly became a crime against society. We were taught to block out our own thoughts or perspectives up until the day we die, carrying those secrets about what we really thought even after our last breath.

They wouldn't hear the last of me.

Then, the door slammed open, and I became stiff all over again. The thoughts of being brave and standing up for my beliefs melted in the face of totalitarian oppression.

I spun around to face the door, watching as my best friend walked through it. Shrouded in rebellion with a small smirk, he shut the door on the guard behind him.

"They think they can make me get Matched?" he scoffed in a loud voice, loud enough for the cameras to pick up the sound. "They think they can take away my family?"

It was at that moment that I realized one of us would die. I wouldn't be the one pulling the trigger, but I would know who did it.

The next day, my friend was gone. We were read a note from the Superintendent that my friend had passed suddenly. There was no explanation, but I understood.