|Orientation|
What am I witnessing? At the top of the opera house stairs, two men in gray suits seem to be in a heated conversation. The taller man clutches the other's lapels, yanking the man forward.
"Hello?" a female voice calls out.
I pull my gaze from the confrontation. A girl with short blonde hair stares in my direction. "Me?" I say.
She nods. "I was wondering if you're going to Orientation?"
The girl looks to be my age, she steps closer. I sigh, and pull the scarf down from my mouth. "That's why I'm standing on these steps, and it's not because of my undying love for opera." When I glance back at the two men, I see them disappear inside the building. I turn back to the prying girl, narrowing my eyes.
She looks taken back, but then it fades away with a smile. "Great! Could we go in together? I'm a little nervous to be honest."
"Um..." I hesitate, not wanting to spark up a friendship.
This isn't happening, I don't "do" friendships.
"Thanks," she says, inviting herself along. "By the way, I'm Bianca." Her hand extends towards mine.
Slowly pushing my hand toward her, we shake. "Irissa," I say in an almost whisper.
She turns her head. "Sorry didn't catch that. What did you say?"
"Ehhhh-risssss-ahhhhhh," I say, again, this time I felt the need to exaggerate.
"That's such a cool name," Bianca says excitedly. "Sorry...I don't have many friends, being home schooled and all..."
Great, this girl is the clingy type.
My face feels warm from her chirpiness. I look away from her, and point at the entrance doors. "We're late," I say with satisfaction. "I'm planning on getting kicked out. Want to join me?" I'm just hoping she gets cold feet and decides to go inside alone.
Bianca smiles and grabs hold of my hand, pulling me along through the revolving glass doors. I try to yank free from her tight grip. We step inside and stop in awe. L' Opera is immaculate. Three large crystal chandeliers dangle high from the cathedral ceiling. A bounty of mosaics embellishes the walls in intricate colors and drawings.
"Holy crap!" Bianca says, her voice echoing in the lobby area. The receptionist glares at us, pointing toward the staircase. I notice one of the men from outside standing quietly at the bottom step. He glances down at a piece of paper in his hand.
"Y'all are late," the woman with a southern accent says at the front desk. "Just up them stairs is the dining hall." She waves her hand to dismiss us.
Bianca leads the way toward the staircase. The gray suited man steps forward, his arms crossing over his broad chest. He pulls back his shoulders, his nose high in the air as though he is sniffing us out.
Bianca freezes next to me. "Excuse us," she mumbles.
The man laughs. "Look what who we have here, a couple of lost pups," he says. I want to slap the stupid grin from his face.
Maneuvering in front of Bianca, I place my hands on my hips. "Excuse us," I say. "We're running late because of the sandstorm. And for your information, we're not pups. You're looking at a couple of teenage girls who are being forced to harbor those things."
Words just slipped from my tongue. I clamp my hand over my mouth.
"Things you say?" His eyes are pools of liquid blue - calm but menacing. "Those things are the future. I'd watch that ungrateful mouth of yours, brat."
I push out a fake laugh. The man's eyes widen at my reaction.
Bianca touches my arm. "Come on, let's just go..."
"Well, nice chit-chat," I say with a flick of my hand, walking past him.
He doubles back, stepping in front of me. Both his hands grip the sides of my arms, pulling me toward him. His face inches from mine. "I don't like your tone of voice," he says. "That isn't how you should speak to an Official of PURE!" His hand rises into the air. I look away, closing my eyes.
"Stop, Lewis," a distinctive, monotone voice echoes from the top of the staircase. "If you lay a hand on that girl, I will strip you of your position within PURE's council." He walks down each step carefully. He glances at Bianca, who stares down at her fumbling hands, and then back at me. "Glad you could join us, girls," the man says in a surly tone. "You may proceed to the dinner hall."
I place my hand across my chest. Every heartbeat strums wildly. His features are harsh, from the deep lines on his forehead, to the small indentation in his broad chin.
Bianca elbows me. I turn, scowling at her. "What?" I snap.
"You go first," she says.
I take the first step, ascending the stairs. Yelling, followed by remorseful pleas pull my gaze back down the staircase at the two men. The man in the gray suit is on his knees, cowering. The other man has his hand held high in the air, threatening to bring it down on the recoiling Official.
"That must be our Advocate, Julian Fox," I say, staring down at the man clenching his fist. "Why is that Official so scared of him? He's trembling."
Bianca stands next to me, holding her hand over her mouth. I grab her arm this time, leading the way toward double doors. I need to get away. Fast.
Bursting through the double doors, everyone is sitting in silence, watching us closely. Soon after, as though we don't exist, they look back down at their food. I gaze around, noticing that all the girls are staring at their plates as if it will disappear without actually eating it.
"That man was the Advocate of PURE?" Bianca's shocked expression doesn't stop her from nudging me forward. "Go ahead first," she says.
This is becoming a trend.
"Fine," I say, gritting my teeth.
She ignores my tone and leans closer to me, whispering, "This is crazy. I can't believe we're here. I mean, we could be stuck working at a vendor in the Swap Market, or become a Draftee and wind up dead. Being pregnant can't be that bad, don't you agree?" Bianca is staring at me, waiting for my reassurance that it's okay to be here.
It's not.
"Stop talking and grab something to eat," I say, choosing random mixtures of food. A piece of poultry falls of the edge of my plate, rolling a short distance behind a podium.
I crawl behind it, searching for the dried up piece of meat. The room is no longer quiet when multiple, small gasps erupt as the door to the dinner hall shuts. I peek around the podium, still on my knees. The man who I think is Julian Fox stands toward the back, taking in his surroundings.
"Get up," Bianca says, bending down at my face level.
A loud thud proceeds after each step he takes, and then silence, again. I look up as he hovers over me, a large shadow against the fluorescent lighting. He nudges the chicken leg with the tip of his shiny dress shoe. His left hand leans hard on top of a cane as he dips down to pick it up. I stand, reaching out nervously.
"This little guy got loose," the man says, smiling. He straightens up and holds out the piece of chicken.
I carefully grab it from his hand. "Thank you."
Breathe...
He laughs softly. "There is plenty to go around. Please enjoy the rest of your meal."
Up close now, I fully recognize his face from television. He is our Advocate. The man who doesn't hide, ready to take a bullet if need be. He looks younger than I thought he would be with salt and peppered hair. His eyebrows, though, are black and bushy.
Bianca steps in front of me, and waves her hand at my face. "Hello? Snap out of it. Everyone is watching us." She wags her finger, gesturing me to follow her over to a table with two free seats.
Sitting down, I gape at my mesh of food, and mumble to no one in particular, "Bon appétit."
Yet, something about coming face to face with Julian Fox has upset my stomach, and now I find myself staring down at my plate of food as if it will disappear on its own, too.
A redhead with freckles all over her face leans her elbows onto the table, gaping at Bianca. "Bock-bock-boooock. You look like a chicken and act like a chicken. You're good as dead, like that meat on your plate."
Bianca doesn't respond. Instead, she pushes her food around with a fork.
Narrowing my eyes at the girl taunting Bianca, I say, "Shouldn't she be?"
The redhead rolls her eyes. "Whatever. I guess so."
"Then why are you pointing out the obvious?"
She leans back in her chair, folding her arms across her chest. "I've heard horror stories about PURE and what they do to the Borrowed. We're going to be leftover scrap meat after they're done with us."
A girl, darker in complexion, sits next to the redhead. Widening her eyes, she grips her fork, choking out her words, "What's going to happen to us?" she says.
The redhead looks over at her. "Who knows? But if you think life is bad now?" Her green eyes narrow as she adds, "It has only just begun."
"Shut up," I say, pushing my plate of food to the center of the table. "You're scared, too. So stop trying to be tough when all you're doing is making this situation worse for all of us."
Bianca touches my hand. "Just ignore her."
I pull away from her, and stand, pushing back my chair with force. The redhead does the same. Now we're both standing across from one another, staring, with only the table separating the two of us.
"You're the one acting all high and mighty," she says. "But is it just a cover?" Her eyes trail down to my hands. "You're shaking like a leaf."
I smirk. "It's because in two seconds, I'm going to be across this table, showing you how tough I really am."
"Gina, just sit down!" the girl sitting across from Bianca says. She tugs at the redheads arm, trying to pull her back down into the seat.
A hand touches the top of my left shoulder. I notice Gina's eyes widen, as do the rest of the girls'. I look over my shoulder. Julian is staring straight at me, and then darts his eyes toward Gina.
"Please, take your seats," he says with smoothness in his tone. "I will not tolerate any disruptions. If you proceed to cause a scene, I will have both of you confined for the remainder of the day." His dark brows bunch together above his eyes, like two fuzzy caterpillars sneaking kisses. "And I promise it will not be pleasant."
I glare at Gina as she sits back down, grabbing her plate of food. Julian's hand still lingers on my shoulder as he presses down on it until I'm sitting. It takes everything inside me to remain cool, calm, and collected. I pull my plate of food back in front of me, and clench the fork between my fingers and palm. The thump of his cane, followed by heavy footsteps move away from the table as he heads back toward the podium to watch over us.
Bianca pokes me with the tip of her fork. I glare at her, and she pulls away with a shrug of her shoulders.
"Just a heads up," I say to her. "I hate being touched."
Staring down at her food, she mutters, "Bon appétit..."
Thirty minutes slip by, and I push my food into a pile on the side of my plate. Bianca shakes her head when she sees my attempt to make it look like I ate. Servers circle the room, clearing the tables.
The double doors push open and a row of Officials walk inside, eyeballing the room. I notice the man from earlier, Lewis, who was cowering before Julian. He's scowling at me as he steps in front of the room.
He clears his throat. "You will all now be escorted inside the theatre. Please proceed to the hallway." His hand gestures toward the door. In a single file, we proceed to exit the room. But before I get to the door, Lewis steps in front of me.
"Please move," I say, trying to hide the annoyance in my voice.
"I just wanted to apologize for earlier," he says. "That was out of line." Lewis steps out of my way, and holds out his hand to direct me toward the doorway. "You're in good hands now."
With a slight quirk of my eyebrow, I say, "If I'm selected." Continuing past him, I enter into the hallway. "If..."
I lag behind hundreds of girls crowding the building. Bianca's head is popping up in the center of it all. She waves wildly. Ducking my head, I try to sneak away, but she pushes her way through the mass of girls.
"Hey! There you are. I thought I lost you," she says out of breath.
My top lip curves up as I try to force another smile. "Well lucky you, I'm found!" I say over the loud chatter of girls. Bianca doesn't detect my sarcasm, and smiles.
After what seems like an hour trailing behind the large number of girls, we enter the theatre together. Trying to find a place among the rows of seats, my cheeks redden as I brush past multiple bony knees, while girls curse under their breath as I clumsily trip over their feet. This place is suffocating. Too many bodies bunched together in one place. I can't believe this is a theatre. I wouldn't pay a dollar to come see a show while sitting on top of the person next to me.
Looking down, I notice my hands clenching into fists, perspiration forming between my palms and fingers. Julian enters the stage. His tall, lanky body leans against a podium. He inclines forward, pressing his elbows into the wood. I realize I'm holding my breath when he clears his throat into the microphone. I exhale, my body trembling with the release.
"Welcome, again," he says, staring out into the crowd. "Today is an important day for all of you. A new and exciting journey waits for each one of you!" He shifts onto his left leg. Dabbing his forehead with a white cloth, he says, "Most of you already know me, have seen me. But to refresh your memory, my name is Julian Fox." His mouth spreads into a toothy grin.
"He's still just a puppet with someone else pulling the strings," I whisper.
Bianca says, "Because our Presider is too afraid to show his own face."
"Shhh!" a girl hisses from behind.
Julian continues, "You've made it to your seventeenth birthdays. After the Swarm destroyed most of our nation, it was you who survived. But why did love ones die and you live on?" His hand waves in the air like a conductor, swift jabbing motions as he speaks. "It's because the Borrowed Project was meant to be enforced. You were all born for greatness, to create a perfect entity. It should have always been this way, but science in recent years has allowed this to happen. Now it's time. The Seraphim will cure us. They're a young, elite race that will rebuild this foundation that has been shattered."
Julian's forehead wrinkles. He looks away, then back toward the crowd. "We no longer have the willpower to make this country great. Our kind was weakened by the Swarm. Just think of all those who reside in the United Colony, or worse – those who dwell in the In-between! Those putrid animals are a disgrace to humankind. They don't deserve what you are so graciously offered! Embrace this moment of your lives. Believe that it's a gift you're still alive and able to forge ahead with science, with PURE! I say this loud and clear, girls, this is the right way, the only way!" His hand slams down on the podium.
Bianca leans close, again, and whispers, "Why can't the Syndicate just obey?" The girls behind us kick the back of our chairs. Bianca turns around, scowling. "What is your problem?"
"Shh!"
Julian continues, "Two years ago we were a united nation of a 125 million strong. Then the rebels, who call themselves Syndicate, spread like wildfire. Thousands campaigned against PURE's ideals. Our Presider no longer tolerated this disruption, he banished them as consequence, exiling these people to the In-between. No longer part of society, they're stuck halfway in a battle between the United Colony to the east, and Arid, the sovereign states. This is why a civil war rages on. Do you wish to be part of that? Or do you wish to be part of something bigger and better? Help stop the war!"
I glance over at Bianca, her hand travels up to her necklace as she ropes the chain over her fingers, letting the small charm shaped like a cross dangle over her hand. Narrowing my eyes, I concentrate on the glint from the theatre lighting hitting the archaic symbol.
Julian's hand thumps on top of the podium again, making hundreds of bodies flinch, including mine. "Without further ado, I have a special presentation," he says, glancing skyward toward a large projector screen. "The Reveal!"
"This is it..." Bianca's voice is barely audible as a grotesque woman enters the stage, belting out an opera song. "The list of names..."
"Our names won't be on there," I say. "They can't be on there..."
My body feels numb, but somehow my eyes manage to swell with tears. The opera singer's voice is spine-tingling, sending goose bumps up my arms. I can't pull my eyes away from the screen as the opening introduction flashes in brilliant colors. My heart thuds loudly. I can feel my pulse race as a group of nurses' smile while holding infants – Seraphim. Bold lettering explodes on the screen, giving congratulations to the success to the first litter of manufactured children.
The robotic-like crowd applauds, eyes drawn to the screen, not daring to look away. I lay my hands on my lap, balling them into fists. All of this is wrong. We're slaves. The Seraphim will be our slaves.
Bianca breaks open one of my fists, weaving her fingers through mine, and I let her. I don't care anymore. What matters is what the future holds for me, for us. I grip her hand.
It's happening now.
This is real. Oh God...
The projector screen goes white. The opera singer bows and exits the stage. I glance at the surrounding girls murmuring to one another. Not one name appeared. There was suppose to be a list of names, the girls who had been chosen as the next group of Borrowed.
"No names," says Bianca in disbelief. "Where are the names?"
I look at her alert face. "It must mean we're all selected."
Julian stands in front of the podium, raising his hand in the air to silence everyone.
"Congratulations!" says, Julian, clapping his hands excitedly.
"Congratulations?" Bianca asks no one in particular.
Gasps, so many gasps erupt around me. I can't breathe. The room starts to spin. I exhale, my hands are shaking while Julian stands up there, still clapping and smiling. He's so untroubled...so tranquil.
I'm so lost.
Julian motions for us to look up at him. "I now have a wonderful treat for all of you," he says with pride. "Your Presider will now speak." His hands clench the edges of the podium as he closes his eyes and lifts his chin into the air.
Bianca grips my arm. "Presider..."
"Sylas," I say his real name with venom, waiting to hear him speak.
The Voicomm lowers over the stage. No one dares move a muscle in the stagnant air. Hate boils inside my chest with anticipation to hear the man who has decided my fate.
Yes, it's hate. I hate this faceless man.
"Thank you, Julian," Presider says through the large, speaker-like Voicomm. "I'm pleased to be speaking today to a fine group of brave girls who, like their parents, have stayed by my side. I'm not only pleased, but I'm privileged to have such obedient citizens."
Bianca leans toward me and whispers, "He doesn't sound so scary."
I glance at her, raising my brow. "He's just a person. Were you expecting a monster?" Instead of reminding her on how he has murdered thousands of people in the Endless War, I stop and think what would happen if someone overheard me speaking in such negative terms toward our feared leader.
Our faceless Presider clears his throat and continues, "I would like to thank you all personally for attending. Most of all, I wanted to congratulate you all in becoming the next group of Borrowed. Good day and bless you all with fruitful futures. Give allegiance to Arid."
Together in unison, we say, "I pledge allegiance to Arid, to our sovereign states of science and duty. Long live our Presider!" Resonate of clenched fists slamming against the chest of every girl climaxes through the theatre, sizzling out into lingering silence. The Voicomm lifts back up into the air, disappearing toward the lights in the ceiling above the stage.
Julian's eyes open, his mouth spreads into a wide grin. "Slowly make your way back through the two exit doors. Orientation has now come to a close," he explains, and then stops, pointing his index finger in the air. "Be cautioned that you will be collected within two weeks from home. Again, on behalf of our Presider, thank you for taking science a step further." He motions back from the podium, nods his head and exits the stage.
"This is really happening," Bianca says. "Why are we all selected?"
I look at her, noticing a trail of tears streaking down her cheeks. No words escape my lips. I have nothing to say. This is the end for me. My life is no longer mine. But has it ever been?
Then something happens, something only my mom has done to me. Bianca hugs me. She falls into me, sobbing on my shoulder.
Stiff and emotionless, I let her lean on me. But I won't let my own tears fall. Instead, I'm going to choose not to feel anything at all.
I'm just another obedient citizen, a puppet on strings.