The sun is your eggplant, little round one.
May you bend with its beams that come to your leaves
Like holographs of holy guidance.
The day was the same as any other day, and the same as any other story. The story was old, the story had been told a thousand times a day in this city and the next city and the next. This was what Nika told herself as she stood at the sink, her hands clutching the rim of the counter, staring herself down in the dusty mirror.
Brains. Brawn. Beauty.
They wanted her simple minded but good at learning so that they could tell her everything about her life and she would bob her head while she listened.
They wanted her strong and healthy so that they could broadcast her on TV, but not too strong that she would fight when they pushed her into the news station's red loveseat.
They wanted her hair straight and her eyes dull and her features simple. It wasn't about what they considered beautiful. No, it was about what they considered perfect.
It was about the inverse of the girl who glared back from the other side of Nika's reflection.
She picked at a flake of dry skin on her chin until it peeled away, making her face red. Shit. She shouldn't have done that. She grabbed the tube of concealer from the sticky plastic organizer at the edge of the countertop.
"Nika?" Sila's voice was distant, but it made Nika's hands shake. She wasn't ready to leave. Not yet. She wasn't ready to get in the car and watch her last moments pass in a blur of dulled colors through tinted windows. She wasn't ready to wait in the examination room or to take deep breaths when the doctor came in to tabulate her.
She wasn't ready to stop waiting.
"Nika? Are you still in the bathroom?"
"Yes, Mom." Nika rubbed the makeup into her skin. It burned. It would burn even more when the nurses pulled out alcohol pads and stripped her face down to its exposed core. But she wouldn't let herself think about that, not now.
Sila pushed open the door to the bathroom. "It's time to go."
Nika stared at her fingertips, held the edge of the counter tighter.
"Look at me," Sila ordered. Nika clenched her jaw and turned her head to look at her mother. Sila groaned. "Fine. You look fine. It's fine." She repeated this a few times, more to herself than Nika. Eventually she turned around, rubbing the wrinkles on her forehead. The margarita she held sploshed around, almost spilling. "Come on. Let's go."
Nika swallowed the tightness in her throat and followed Sila out of the bathroom.
The car was waiting outside the gates, its engine humming slightly. Nika tried the handle on the back door but immediately pulled away, cursing. The metal had heated up under the city's sun, a frying pan for her fingers. She pulled the sleeve of her shirt over her hand and tried again.
Sila slid in next to Nika and the engine buzzed as the driver hit the accelerator.
The gates around their house got blurrier and blurrier, at last disappearing. Their house spread its fat belly over a perfectly kept block of green grass and cleaned sidewalks, but you didn't have to go far before the trash bags sat uncollected at the side of the road.
"Your hands are shaking."
Nika jumped in her seat. The hum of the car's engine had begun to hypnotize her, and Sila's sharp voice brought back the pain in her stomach that had haunted her for days. And, indeed, her hands were shivering even despite the ray of hot sun coming through the window.
"Please try to stop that, dear," Sila said.
"Sorry, Mom." Nika focused but couldn't stop the shaking.
Just think about something else, her mind told her. She nodded to herself and took a few deep breaths. Her fingers, resting on the windowsill, began to tap a melody. She and Sila had gone to get manicures the day before, and now her fingernails were long and weird and pink. Like the color of a gender reveal. The polish caught the light and she didn't like it. But her nails were good for tapping.
Tap tap tap tap tappity, tap tappity tappity tap tap. Tap tap tappity tap, went her fingernails.
In her head, she sung along. Long live King Halen, long live Queen Sila. Long live The Test, the perfection, the deportation. Long live The Nation! At this point all the drunk old men singing would raise their beer bottles and let out a series of unorganized hoots and cheers.
Nika stopped tapping.
The driver hit the brakes a little too hard and Sila and Nika jerked forward in their seats.
"Sorry, Your Majesty," he mumbled. Sila pursed her lips but made no response.
The car started again and the world continued to pass outside Nika's window. It was a gray morning; the sun hadn't yet risen out of its bed of clouds. It was still resting, like everyone else in the city. There was the occasional businessman rushing to catch a taxi or the mother carrying grocery bags, but the streets were nearly devoid of life. A plastic bag bounced in the wind and the door to a scraggly row house creaked open and shut.
Occasionally they passed a bigger, nicer house like Nika's. None were quite as big or nice, though, and most of them had a few spots where the paint was peeling. Nika pressed her fingertips to the glass. Who lived in those houses? Had they really passed The Test or were they victims of endless surgeries? Did they wear suits when they went to work? Did they go to work at all? Most of them probably worked for Nika's parents.
A single crow flew from its perch on the electrical line. Nika watched it as it disappeared into the maze of blocky buildings.
Somewhere else in this city, Nika realized, was another car that looked exactly like theirs. Avens probably had his left hand around his seatbelt and his eyes out the window. She tried to picture his eyes but didn't know what color they were. She would have figured they were the same as her's—green—but she and Avens were eerily dissimilar for twins. Chances were, his eyes were a different color. Something prettier, more desirable: brown, she thought, his eyes are probably brown. She knew that his hair was a muddied down blond and that his arms bulged just the right amount; you could tell these things by watching someone on TV. But she couldn't tell what color his eyes were. The pixels were too blurry.
Nonetheless, Nika tried to picture her brother. It was comforting to think that she wasn't the only one taking The Test today. October 5th had welcomed in not one but two royal children, opening its fleshy arms, the color of unripe pumpkins, and swaddling them in blue and pink blankets that wrapped all the way around their faces and muffled their cries. Sila still had that pink blanket. Today she had kept it for sixteen years.
"Right up here on Worker West. Street," Sila said to the driver.
He put his turn signal on. "You're going to Righted Hospital?"
"Yes." She folded her hands in her lap.
In Avens's car, Nika imagined, Halen was telling their driver to go left on East George Street and turn into the parking lot of Clear Mind Hospital.
She wondered if Avens was shaking as much as she was. Oh, Avens, she thought. With his muted-blond hair and probably-brown eyes. With his television show and his bedroom in the palace and all the butlers a prince deserved. He'd pass with flying colors.
Nika had none of that. Nika they sheltered away. Nika, the secret princess. She lived with her mother on the outskirts of town. She never went to any of the meetings or five-course dinners. No one cares about those, she'd told herself. A bunch of angry old diplomats and too many spoons.
Even though she was the older of the twins. Even though she should inherit the throne someday. Well, no one talked about that. Instead, Avens gave speeches on the news about preserving the peace. It was from watching these speeches, never missing a minute, that Nika knew her brother's hair was muted-blond. His voice also sounded like honey.
Avens was the kind of person The Nation idealized, and the kind The Test attempted to help cultivate.
The Test weeded out those with undesirable genetics such as appearance and personality. The people deemed not up to standard then had two choices: surgery or deportation. Nika knew a good bit about the The Test and the surgeries (she was well-educated after all, even if she did live away from the palace). Statistics on the surgeries were not readily available, but she did know that they were risky. It depended on how much you had to have changed, but most people walked out of the operating room with new problems and mutilations. These people were deported despite their efforts to fix themselves. Sometimes, they never walked out of the operating room at all. Having a successful surgery, though not unheard of, was uncommon. Yet people still continued to have them because the alternative—deportation—was so scary and unexplained that it might as well have meant something worse than death. Deportation involved officers in black suits and glasses grabbing you by the elbows. It involved the local airport. It was the only thing they used the airport for anymore. But where the deportees were flown, no one knew.
They were turning into a parking spot. Sila was handing the driver a bill—a tip. Nika was opening her door and stepping out. She had no control over the movement of her feet; they had become someone else's. Righted Hospital loomed big and white in front of them. People flooded in and out. Some of them were crying. Nika saw their faces contorted, their eyes running, but she found she couldn't hear their sobs.
About 50% of citizens passed the test. Her family claimed that that number went down every year, but by what percentage Nika couldn't remember.
The car pulled out of the parking spot.
"Nika?" Sila called. Nika realized that she had been walking towards the hospital. Sila's voice sounded faded and distant. She turned around to find that Sila was standing right behind her.
Sila reached over to tuck a loose strand of Nika's reddish-brown hair behind her ear. It bounced back out to hang over her face again, but Sila still looked happy with herself. They stood there for a moment, not saying anything. Sila stared at Nika's face with those big, unblinking eyes, her head tilted slightly to the side. Why did her eyes look bigger than usual? She did look happy with herself. Maybe not happy, maybe melancholy.
Oh.
Sila unclasped her necklace. The scar on her forehead got caught up in wrinkles as she tried to concentrate. Eventually, she got it off. Nika wondered when the last time she'd seen Sila take her necklace off had been.
"I want you to have this," Sila said. She held it out to her daughter. The glass pendant glistened in the sun, reflecting the heat of the day away from its contents. Inside the glass, a drop of water. Simple. No silver or gold or diamond. No, this was the most valuable.
"Water from the last iceberg. It was called Invera... before it melted away. Your father has one and so do I. The last clear water on Earth belongs to the King and Queen... and you... well... you're not, I mean... but..." she never finished her sentence. "Here. I want you to have it."
Nika found herself unable to move. Sila slid her hands behind Nika's neck and clasped it.
"There. It looks pretty on you."
Pretty was an understatement for anything like this, Nika thought. Pretty was a pearl earring or a little flower in your hair.
The necklace rested peacefully below her collarbone. She touched it, tentatively at first, hoping not to get it oily or dirty. Instead of saying "thank you," she said, "It's cold."
Sila nodded. That melancholy expression still occupied her eyes. Maybe it had been there for a long time and Nika never noticed.
"Alright," Sila said, sucking in her cheeks and sticking out her chin. "Let's go."
And just like that, they were walking into the hospital.
Nika kept her fingers against the necklace as they walked inside. She probably looked like she was suffering a heart attack; her face was all flushed and her hand was on her chest and her was breathing fast.
The lady at the counter had a very wide, white smile that made her teeth look like tic-tacs. In contrast, she had tiny black beads for eyes. Sila told her that they were here for, "Nika Fortis's sixteenth birthday."
AKA Nika Fortis's fucking examination. Fucking test. Ladies and gentlemen, will she make it? Clap if you're ready for tonight's entertainment! Tonight you will witness... The secret! The princess! The girl who doesn't stand a chance! Niiiiika! Nika thought bitterly to herself.
"Down the hall to your left," the lady said and bobbed her head. Her blonde, dreadlocked hair bounced around when she talked. The tic-tac smile never left.
Nika scurried down the hall with the impression that she had just met a real-life scarecrow.
The waiting room was already full. Apparently today was not just the day for the royal twins. Tens of girls and boys exactly Nika's age sat around in plastic-coated chairs with their heads down. Some of them were shivering. They were scared. Or maybe it was just the air conditioner humming through the barbed wire on the air vents. It was overcompensating for the hot day outside.
Nika took a seat. Sila remained standing.
The boy sitting next to Nika had a rasp in his breath.
"Geremino Stratfold?" A nurse called, her voice a small siren in the quiet room. Everyone stiffened. A boy who was apparently Geremino Stratfold stood up and lurched across the room.
A few minutes later, "Lillian Lorde?"
And then, "Elspeth Easton?"
"Nika Fortis?"
The nurse took her into a room with a plastic-covered examination table, a large computer that whirred, and no chairs.
"Change into this," the nurse said, handed her a dress that vaguely resembled a pillowcase, and then left.
Nika changed quickly and left her clothes in a colorful heap to the side of the room. Then she sat on the table and waited. It was freezing in that room, like they were trying to suck the life out of her before she could do anything about it. She briefly likened herself to a skinned chicken locked in a freezer, waiting to be cut into, but dismissed this horrifying idea with a shake of her head. She refused to feel sorry for herself, even if she was metaphorical dead meat.
The clock in the corner ticked. Nika didn't know how long she had been waiting. She forced herself to keep a straight posture and stared into the mirror on the opposite wall. There were mirrors everywhere here, she realized. She hadn't noticed them at first; they blended so neatly into the white sterile environment. Everything was a flat white and looked like it should smell like cleaning supplies, even though she couldn't really smell anything.
The minutes slipped away. Nika held eye contact with her reflection in the mirror. Sila had taught her that the best thing to do when waiting was to sit still. You didn't want to make the cameras suspicious. The girl in the mirror stared back at Nika, her green eyes intensified by dark lashes. Nika blinked a few times, waiting for her reflection to change, to mute itself. Why did she have to look like such an owl? Green was a color for watchful animals, ones that waited and then attacked. Green was a color for the cycle of life. It was a color for leaves and stems and sprouts and trees that lasted even through the winter. Green was bold and green was assertive. Green was not the color for Nika. Nika needed quiet, brown eyes. Nika needed thinner eyebrows so she wouldn't look so angry all the time and straighter hair so that people in crowds wouldn't turn around to look at her. But as long as she stared at her reflection, her eyes refused to change and her freckles refused to disappear.
The door opened.
Nika didn't remember much after that. When she later tried to recall the doctor's face, it came up blurry in her memory. She could feel his hands touching her face, her shoulders, her arms, her fingers... she could hear his voice telling her to open her mouth and say, "ahh," she could feel his words pulsing through her blood when he provoked her, testing her emotion. She tried to hold herself back, to be subdued, but he found the anger eventually.
"What's this?" He had picked up Sila's necklace and swung it in front of her face like a pendulum.
"My mother's."
"Your mother is the Queen?" He had phrased it like a question, but it sounded like a statement.
She hadn't said anything. Sila had taught her to stay quiet. Sila had taught her that they would test her in ways she didn't expect. Sila had taught her to remain calm, not to let herself get confused. Not to let herself get defiant. Not to let herself get angry.
"Your father is the King. He doesn't love her like he should?" Once again, it sounded like a statement.
"Your brother is... different than you."
"In another room somewhere, like this one, your brother is smiling while they talk to him."
"Why aren't you smiling?"
"Why did your mother give you this necklace?"
The feeling of his blurry face leaning close to hers, she felt a fleck of his spit hit her cheek.
"Do you know what you're going to learn when you're done with this?"
His face was no longer so close to her. He turned around so he was facing the mirrored wall. She could see his eyebrows... she remembered his eyebrows, it was the only thing she remembered... they were dark, like hers... they were angry... the hunched over themselves and— "Do you know what they're going to do to you?" He had said it in a whisper of a voice. She was trembling and she didn't know why.
Sila taught her to stay quiet.
"Do you know?"
Nika swallowed the lump in her throat. Her body still stung from all the tests they had run.
Brains. Brawn. Beauty.
He turned back around to face her.
"I know," he said. "I know that you've done what you weren't supposed to do."
The words pierced Nika's brain. Suddenly everything was dark; she was closing her eyes, she was taking deep, deep breaths, she was trying to calm herself. The memories were flashing through her head.
"I know what you've done."
James.
James on the first day she met him. After his mother had died. After they had all died in the court case...
James.
His mother had been a court reporter. He was crying...
James.
They sat by the fountain on the top of Spruce Hill; they made whirlpools with their fingertips...
James.
Eventually he stopped crying...
James.
They laughed a lot. Like how she wanted to have laughed with Avens when they were kids...
James.
The memories tousled her mind.
Her father said. He was scum he was dirt he was...
James.
Her father said. She could not imagine what he would do to that scum if she spoke to him again...
James.
Her father said. He would do the unimaginable to him if she spoke to him again...
Her friend.
She had never told him what her father said. She had forgotten what her father said because she felt she had no choice...
James.
What would happen to him if her father knew that she had plans to see him later that day?
She knew what would happen to him.
"I know," The doctor said.
"No!" Nika yelled.
It escaped her lungs in a whirl of air.
He smiled and typed something into the computer. Nika's heart filled with dread. He hadn't known.
Afterwards, Sila pulled aside a nurse and talked to her in hushed tones. The nurse took her down a hallway and they stayed back there for a long time.
Nika's results weren't supposed to be ready for another couple of months, but the people at the hospital always knew. You passed or you didn't.
Sila came out of the back room and took Nika by the elbow. Nika couldn't see her face because she walked fast through the halls of the hospital and turned her head away when they reached the car.