I put thoughts of the Lessers to the back of my mind and head to class. My first class is History, which suits me fine. Mr. Cassidy drones on about dead people who - only occasionally, as far as I'm concerned - do something interesting: build an empire, run it into ruin, fight primitive wars with guns and bombs. Mr. Cassidy doesn't require any level of commitment from you, which is ideal. You can tune in when something piques your interest, or you can stay out of it until exams come up. My kind of teacher.
I haven't been listening closely today, until I realise he is talking about The Dollhouse. But by the time I start to pay attention, he has already moved onto Benjamin Smithill.
"And when young Benjamin Smithill drew up the treaty for the cities," Mr. Cassidy begins, clearing his throat. "He believed it prudent to immortalize therein the knowledge that in a time as recently as our own civilisation, there had been more than five cities rising from the great wilderness of our planet. And that, had we a diligent justice system, we might have kept it that way." I tune out again before he drones on some more about how the Lesser system, holding back 'the filth of society', will mean the great rise of humanity once more, and wonder instead why he was talking about The Dollhouse. Mr Cassidy doesn't usually stray from his classroom topics, unless it is to give a general notice. And those are over so fast you can blink and miss them.
The lesson ends and we move onto P.E. The Lessers crowd in and sweep down the stadium floor, preparing it for us. When the soccer nets come up, everyone cheers. Even I feel like cheering, since it's pretty easy to do nothing in soccer. If you don't want the ball, they're not going to give it to you. Simple.
We take positions and start running. The ball flies away from me halfway down the court, taken over by the other team. I figure I may as well stop running, since there's no real point. Just as I decide to lose all pretense at trying, the soccer ball comes flying at me.
Unfortunately, the problem with giving up is that your reflexes tend to give up as well. The soccer ball knocks me straight in the head.
"I'm fine!" I call out as Mr. Edwards runs over. I wave it off and walk over to the side, but he won't have it.
"Tess," he calls to one of the girls sitting on the side of the court, crutches leaning on the wall next to her. "Can you take Cam to the sick bay?"
Tess drops her head like, "are you an idiot?", but picks up her crutches and starts swinging her way out of the stadium. I follow some distance behind.
Tess drops me at the sick bay and hobbles back without a word, lest she miss any of the boys taking their shirts off. The nurse signs me in and leads me to a spare bed where she gets me to lie down and warns me not to go to sleep. To make sure this doesn't happen, she sends a Lesser in to watch over me, which is a role I haven't seen them do before, since I've never been at risk of a concussion. I find the task particularly creepy.
The Lesser assumes a stance near the bed as the nurse leaves. I frown as I realise it is the Lesser from this morning. He must be assigned to the sick bay after the morning duties. I glare at him. He stares back and I swear he still looks amused.
"Why the hell did you stick a bomb on your teacher's chair?" I ask suddenly.
His eyes widen slightly, before his face slips quickly back into unreadable stoicism.
I've broken an unwritten rule. I didn't give him an order, or ask him a question related to an order. I've communicated with him. He probably thinks it's a trap.
"I mean it," I say. "Why would you do something like that?" I wave my hand, irritated, not even sure why I'm asking this kind of question when the answer is obvious: because I'm a bad person, it said so, right there on the bit of paper that told me I failed the test and would need to be segregated from all manner of privileged society.
I guess I've never been face to face with a Lesser I saw in the Report before. Never had the chance to ask. And the memory of the knife in my pocket is making me ask questions I should best forget.
The Lesser stares at me, but he doesn't say anything. Under his uncomfortable gaze, I realise that he is about my age, maybe a couple of years older, and that he is actually really good looking. I've never looked at one long enough to notice what they look like, but this one, if I'm going to be perfectly honest, is almost disarmingly attractive. Slightly longer than normal brown hair, brown eyes. Brown eyes that are staring right at me while I check him out.
I give myself a mental shake and go back to glaring at the Lesser. If he's not going to give me a good reason, I can at least let him know what I think of him.
"Because she deserved it," he says finally.
I snort. "I should have guessed you'd say that." I lie back on the bed and close my eyes, trying not to think about the dangerous and remorseless criminal standing three feet away from me.
"Don't go to sleep," he reminds me.
I snap my eyes back open and stare at him. "I don't have a concussion," I mutter. "It was just a soccer ball."
The Lesser doesn't respond.
I close my eyes, but I'm too annoyed to stay calm. "Why were you laughing at me this morning?" I ask suddenly.
He smiles slowly, an infuriatingly cocky smile. "Because you looked so lost," he says, his voice taunting. "Like a little kid."
"So you thought it would be a good idea to grin like an arsehole?" I snap.
He just smirks. I close my eyes and go back to ignoring him. I shouldn't have spoken to him anyway.
After about an hour of silence - enough time for P.E to finish - the nurse comes to collect me.
"You make sure to come back the second you feel any worse," she says after she's convinced I'm well enough to walk out on my own.
I nod and leave immediately. Before I've made it three steps down the hall she calls out after me.
"You're going the wrong way," she says, pointing in the other direction down the hall.
I frown. It's recess, I can go whatever way I please.
"You have an assembly, didn't you get the notice?" she asks.
I shake my head. "Why do we have an assembly?" I ask.
She shrugs. "I don't listen to any of that."
I change directions and head for the hall.
I take a seat on the floor near the back while everyone files in. The air conditioning has broken again and the hall is quickly becoming unbearable, the air moving sluggishly above the crowd. The principal, Mr. James, runs around to turn the pedestal fans on, but apart from doubling the level of noise, they're unnoticeable. I hope this assembly, whatever it's about, is over quickly. I wish Tracy was here.
The principal taps the microphone and calls everyone to attention. At this point I realise that it's only the seniors in the hall; it must be something to do with our senior program.
"Good afternoon, seniors," Mr. James drones as if he is reading off a sheet of paper. "As you know, later in the year you will be engaging in your second round of industry experience."
I start to pay proper attention now. Industry experience was the most enjoyable subject I took last year. I was placed with a jeweler in the suburbs and he helped me build up a client base interested in buying my pieces. When I came back this year, we were going to dedicate a corner in his shop for my work. We were already making travel plans for when I'm over twenty one, and can legally visit the other cities to promote my designs. I can't wait to travel and see the rest of The Island. I watch Mr. James carefully, silently willing him not to announce that our placement length has shortened, or, worse, been canceled.
"You may have heard talk this morning of some additions to the placement list," he says without blinking.
I remember Mr. Cassidy's odd diversion from topic and wonder if this means The Dollhouse. It seems like a strange place for work experience. I don't know what you'd even do there.
"The State has revised the placement list, and you will be assigned accordingly," he continues. I stare at him. That sounds like- "You will not be continuing with the placements you held last year," he finishes.
Everyone starts speaking at once. After a few seconds, I realise I'm yelling. Several people turn around to look at me, eyes wide. I shut my mouth. Swearing at the principal is not the best idea I've ever had.
Mr. James holds up his hand until the murmurs stop.
"This decision has been made by the State, and, as such, is irrevocable in its authority," he continues as if he was never interrupted. "The Motherhood project has deemed it counter-productive for students to select their own placement, and has instead developed a method of selection designed to meet the individual needs of every student." He looks around the hall, seeming almost surprised to find it full of students. "Your selections have been posted on noticeboards in the corridor. Please read them carefully. Back rows may leave first."
At the dismissal, every student in the room jumps up and runs for the exit. By the time I reach the exit, the corridor is completely packed, even though I was at the back of the room. I have to jam myself in the doorway just to make sure I'll be at the front of the next lot of students. I see a space and elbow my way through.
The noticeboard is covered in four big sheets of A3 paper, covered in names. Even in alphabetical order, I have to scan twice before I find mine.
Cameron Bree: The Dollhouse
I don't even play The Dollhouse. Work experience there sounds like a nightmare. I'll be forced to watch hundreds of idiots ordering around Lessers, and, I don't know, make statistical notes for potential new experiences? What else can you do there? Unless they're getting me to clean it or something. I groan and move away. Surely not. That would have to be a Lesser duty. But between maintenance and management, I can't think of what else there is to do.
I head to the cafeteria, my stomach grumbling. Hopefully there is still some good food left. As I sit down with my heaped plate of mashed potato and sausages - hardly my first choice - it occurs to me that maybe I'm being too harsh on The Dollhouse. I've never played, so maybe there is more to it than I can imagine. Admittedly, I'm too angry about losing my place in Carl's shop to even give it a chance.
I guess I'll find out next week, when placement starts.
I make it through the rest of the day without being hit by any more soccer balls, and when the bell finally rings I rush to the jungle to see if the Guards are still involved in their training exercise.
The barrier is gone, which means I can enter the jungle, but unfortunately whatever interesting thing they were doing is already over. I check my watch - I have an hour before mum is due to meet me. I decide to make a quick visit to the ruins to see if I can find anything useful.
I take the side route to the old city, cutting through small paths in the jungle that I have forged over the years. Before long I have walked far enough that the wall must be close. Pressing forward through the growth, I wait until I feel stone against my fingertips.
The stones in this section are sturdy. If I shimmy up between the wall and the trees, I can easily make it over. The denseness of the jungle has its benefits.
I slip a couple of times, naturally, but make it over the wall unscathed. I sit atop it for a few moments, taking in the overgrown city that has been untouched by human hands for generations. Broken stone walls and strong, tall, temples are all that remains; a quiet monument to the priorities of a lost civilization. The jungle has spread quietly into the city, roping its crumbling stones in vines and slowly burying them, piece by piece.
I jump down off the wall and begin to scout. I quickly find a few pieces of broken clay and bone. It never takes long to find an attractive shard of clay-work or piece of skeleton out here that I can work into my jewelery. My clients love anything that seems exotic or dangerous, and since this place isn't off limits, it's legitimate finders keepers.
After a few minutes I hear footsteps, rhythmic and marching. Then a noise like a jackhammer breaks through the quiet. I look up in surprise. It sounds like the Guards are conducting their training here, but if they have only just returned to the jungle it is too soon for them to have started with weapons. I crouch down low and make my way to the top of one the hills on this side of the city. Looking down, I get a shock. The place is full of Lessers; they've turned the city into a quarry.
I watch the Lessers march by carrying stone after stone, clearing the area of rubble so that the machines I heard a moment ago can come through and excavate properly. Recycle the rock into the main City. Destroy the remains of a culture no one remembers. I hold back the urge to spit on the ground, a nasty show of contempt I seem to have inherited from my father. Unladylike, I'm told.
The Guards soon march past, spreading out amongst the Lessers and giving orders. I frown. This doesn't look like a training exercise. They must have just started mining the area.
I shimmy back down the hill and I walk back the way I came. There is no point in staying here, I have no interest in watching a mining operation, and the ruins are no doubt out of bounds now. If I'd gone in the main entrance I would have known that.
I make my way back through the jungle to the path and then back on to the city. Despite the fact that the Lessers are working in the direction of the stone city, I see none of them walking up the path with supplies, or even in the distance where the road forks away from the city to the Undercity where they live. I guess they've set up camp at the site, which means it is a big operation. All that stone must have excited someone. Big money has been passed between hands to divert such a percentage of the workforce for so long a period.
The jungle clears for the last kilometer and the city rises to take its place. Giant walls of concrete to protect towers of cold, shiny metal that rise as high as the tallest tree behind me. If you're standing at the top with binoculars - which I do occasionally, when I visit mum and the Committee - I can see monkeys at eye level, dancing in trees that are as close to me as some parts of the city.
A couple of planes fly overhead, so low that I have to block my ears. I wonder where the people inside are going - I could swear there have been more planes lately. Maybe one of the other cities have opened a new theme park.
I head back to the apartment building and up to floor twenty two, which is all mine - a perk from having such a prestigious parent.
Although it is past five, Mum isn't visible when I open the door, which is a bad sign. The door opens onto the living room, an expansive space that holds a T.V, a coffee corner, a reading nook, and - for some reason I've never quite grasped - an unused Zen garden. If mum isn't in the living room, she's not relaxed.
Call me crazy, but I would have thought that when your parents decide to take advantage of their allocated visiting time, they might use it to visit.
I knock on the door to the study. After a few seconds, I'm acknowledged with a grunt. I open the door.
"Hi, mum," I say, leaning into the door-frame. "What'cha up to?"
She glances at me over the top of her glasses. "Budget analysis," she says, distracted. "Couple of incorrectly drawn statistics. Bit of a mess, I'm afraid. I brought dinner, it's in the fridge. Did you need something?"
"Not really," I say, looking around at the mess in her office.
Mum blinks. "Well, call out if you do," she frowns, her number-addled brain struggling to adapt to the idea of socializing. It's too much work, so she turns back to her computer. "There's money in the jar if you need anything." She resumes typing.
I stare at her until she stops again. She looks up at me with a frown.
"Don't you want to do something?" I ask her.
She sighs and pushes her glasses down over her nose to look at me properly. "I'm sorry, Cam. I know we should be using this time to bond and relax together, but I have all this work to do." She gestures at the screen. "And I couldn't do it at the office. Everyone was too noisy."
"Why didn't you just go home to do it?" I ask, deliberately petulant.
She frowns, her patience fading. "You know it's a better working environment here. Christ, I worked so hard to get you the appropriate privileges that I forgot to do it for myself. It's thanks to me that you have all this space, Cam. I'm well within my right to use it." She turns back to the screen.
I close the door behind me and head to the kitchen. The fridge reveals empty shelves and a bowl of cold sliced beef. I'm guessing mum made sandwiches. I wrinkle my nose. Something bumps into my leg and I look down to see my cat, Clay, purring up at me. He is a wild cat, technically, but he's about as wild as a poodle. He comes with me into the jungle regularly, so he can hunt and hide and take care of himself perfectly, but I've raised him since he was an abandoned kitten, so he likes his creature comforts.
"Want it?" I ask Clay, hovering the bowl under his nose. He licks his lips, so I leave him to it and order pizza off my junk food allowance. It's getting low. It'll be beans for the rest of the month.
When the pizza arrives, I eat it on the couch in silence, Clay curled up next to me. Pretty soon, I must fall asleep because when I wake up it is past midnight and, apart from Clay, I am alone again.