The train ride back to Site 3 was cramped, but quiet, aside from the light snores Eva puffed against Rhoawyn's cheek. Rhoawyn turned toward the window to get a view of the landscape as they sped through the outskirts of Site 4, but she was met with transparent glass fading into a cinematic display of advertisements for things no one on this train could buy.
Must be passing the Fringe, she thought, as the still image of a Six showing off a fancy-looking box of cereal materialized on the screen. The Apex did its best to hide the happenings of the Fringe from everyone on this side of the dome. They wouldn't want anyone to think the plague that still raged out there could somehow find its way inside their walls, so they shielded their eyes with a bombardment of products. Out of sight, out of mind.
When the screen brightened into a commercial about the Ripe Spring, Rhoawyn decided she would rather see the diseased wasteland of the Fringe than deal with the anxious roil in her stomach.
"The selection is tonight, huh?" Eva yawned, rubbing the soft blur of sleep from her eyes.
"A lot sooner than I expected."
"Having second thoughts?" Eva smirked, smug, "Wouldn't it have been smarter to have those before you applied for the program?"
The train glided to a stop beneath the awning of Site 3's station. They both rose with the rest of the crowd and forced their way into the front-flowing stream of bodies toward the exit.
"For someone with the title 'best friend,' you're really lacking in the moral support department." Rhoawyn huffed.
"You're not exactly one for taking concrete advice."
"That's not true. I listen to your advice all the time."
"Must be why you volunteered to Depart even after I told you it was a terrible idea," Eva snarked, giving Rhoawyn a mock pat on the back. "Prudence becomes you."
Rhoawyn rolled her eyes as she filed through the exit. As she splayed her fingers over the stair rail, the genetic reader scanned the code of her fingertips and collected the amount for the journey. She halted at the end of the stairs, waiting for Eva to step off behind her before defending herself.
"Ok, you got me. But that was only one time," she swore, holding up a finger for emphasis.
Eva flicked it away, laughing at Rhoawyn's dramatic display. "Arguably, the most important time."
The soft trill of her laughter simmered into thoughtful silence. "Doesn't matter now, anyway. Your name is in the system. You can't take it back."
They walked out of the station and down the familiar streets of Site 3. A cluster of flimsily built houses littered both sides of the cracked pavement that passed as a road. It was a far cry from the glass and steel frameworks higher numbers lived in. And even with both of their houses being within walking distance of each other, Eva's sector looked as if it had been decades since the Collection Agency sent a revamp crew to fix things up. It didn't even have working streetlights.
The air was quiet—stale—it felt vacant as it surrounded one of the most populated areas under the entire dome. Rhoawyn hated the silence. It gave her too much room to focus on the ruins Eva called home, so she spoke up.
"I don't want to take it back." The words popped through the silence like over-chewed gum, the sound of them hanging in the air.
"I know." Eva gave in as they round the corner to her street. "Which is why I can't understand my need to convince you otherwise," she admitted, as they reached the toppling shack she's unfortunate enough to live in.
"Look who's being dramatic now."
"Maybe this whole thing about you Departing is a blessing in disguise. At least you won't be around for me to pick up anymore of your weird habits," Eva said wryly. Rhoawyn knew the dark humor they shared was the only thing stopping Eva from lashing out in sorrow or rage.
Rhoawyn's face flickered through the motions of laughter, then monotony, but molded into contemplation. "Do you think it'll hurt?" she asked.
"Nah, it's in an instant, remember? That's what the step-by-step instructions are for. God knows you'll need them."
"I guess you're right." Rhoawyn paused. "Oh, I almost forgot." Rifling through her satchel, Rhoawyn pulled out a neatly folded canvas from beneath the butt of an apple, handing it to Eva.
Eva unfolded the canvas paper, mouth rounding in a small ring of surprise when her eyes caught on the delicate strokes of penciled brown-and-black hues—creating a perfect likeness of Rhoawyn's face.
"Colored pencils are at least a month of rations for Fours." Eva gasped as she traced her fingers over the image.
"Well, sometimes the desire to be remembered is stronger than the desire to eat more than three times a week," Rhoawyn joked, smiling softly at the wetness starting to well up in Eva's eyes. "Besides, we both know you're secretly the sentimental type, and that Threes can't have photographs, so I drew this just in case I get chosen-"
Eva yanked Rhoawyn into an embrace so tight, she could barely move her arms enough to reciprocate. But before Eva's tears rolled themselves off the cliffs of her eyeline, a steady rumble overtook the sky. They broke apart and looked up in search of what made that strange sound.
It was not often people of their numbers get to see eggs—only Fives and up had them readily available in their markets-so it was even more surprising to see an airship shaped like one. It hovered above their heads like dandelions on a soft breeze. The aircraft was flying rather close, maybe too close, with the way the propellers vibrated the loose pebbles beneath their feet. The vessel came to a crawling halt above a clearing of dried grass a few feet from Eva's house. With a metallic groan, it opened its underbelly to the ground below. From its bowels fell a cascade of parchment, folded in the shape of paper planes.
As they braced themselves in the wind, like homing missiles, they bobbed and weaved through rotting planks and leafy trees. Some landed in muddy pools left behind by the previous day's rain. Others maneuvered into the hands of recipients, stepping outside to see where the humming shaking their homes is coming from.
Rhoawyn saw one zipping in her direction and instinctively tried to dodge the object as it made a beeline for her head. It whipped back around and landed itself into the open of her palm—the Genetic Positioning System—or GPS for short, embedded in the seal, making sure each invitation finds the fingertips of every available recipient.
Before Rhoawyn could even close her hand around the envelope, Eva plucked it away. She stretched it out flat, lifting the seal to find a sturdy piece of colored paper inside—thick enough to be an invitation—but it was blank.
"There's nothing on it," Eva said, holding the blank card closer to her face, making sure it was indeed clear of any writing. Rhoawyn scanned the neighborhood, taking in the stunned expressions plastered across the faces of those who also received invitations. Her eyes fall back to the one in Eva's hands.
"Let me have a look." Rhoawyn grabbed the card. Her brows furrowed as she noticed the delicate etchings of gold against the purple of the note that went unseen by Eva's curious eyes.
Rhoawyn Waters of Site 3,
Per the application submitted to the Collections Office of Site 7, we are cordially inviting you to Depart during this year's Ripe Spring. As the last living resident within your household, a readjustment of your Family Average is unnecessary, but the documented recipient of your 3000 duro compensation will be deposited upon Departure.
This invitation is programmed to identify and activate in response to your unique genetic code and will reveal more information about your Departure at 9:00 PM. Please be ready to receive the information at that time.
To Give Is To Gain,
The Apex
"Definitely the easiest lottery I've ever won," Rhoawyn whispered, somehow surprised at being chosen for the program she willingly signed up for.
"It's the only lottery you've ever won," Eva corrected, voice cracking on the threat of tears.
Of course this day was coming. It always came for people like them, voluntarily or not. And it is not something they were allowed to cry over—to mourn—but when Eva heard the phrase "I guess this is goodbye" Rhoawyn watches her tears claw their way out.
"Hey, stop," Rhoawyn hissed, blocking the tiny cameras on the side of the ship still hovering above them from getting their sights on Eva. "Remember what happens if you get caught mourning a Departure. You don't want your family average lowered to a Two, do you? Think of how hard that will be on them."
Eva nodded in agreement, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her palm, sniffling a few times for good measure. The lids were a little puffy, but no one would determine that tears were the cause. The rumble of the aircraft lifting off radiated through the sky, and Rhoawyn glanced at the swirl of twilight beginning to swallow it whole. She was without a watch, but the artificial sunset overhead was an easy tell that 9:00 is just around the corner, and she had to be home to receive further instruction.
Small pools of people slowly made their way back inside their own homes as she backed away from Eva—like she was a scared kitten—afraid to bring on any more tears while the aircraft was still in view.
"You'll be receiving 3000 duros soon," Rhoawyn yelled over the growing noise of the retreating ship. "That's enough rations to have you living like us Fours for at least two years." She was glad to give Eva's family a glimpse of life a little further above the poverty line. Eva nodded in quick succession, willing away the tears that keep prickling to the surface.
"Make sure you buy a frame for that portrait," Rhoawyn shouted, still backing away toward her own street. "And if you ever think, 'Hey, I miss Rhoawyn, the girl I used to call my best friend, I want you to look at it and know that I'm still there. Still around. Maybe not in the way you want, but in a way that will benefit you most."
Eva slumped to her knees, gripping the portrait tightly in one hand as she cupped the other around her mouth, amplifying her voice. "I'll look at it every day, I promise," she yelled back, her voice fracturing at the edges, throat raw from pent up emotion. "Just know that we're grateful."
"What are friends for?" Rhoawyn waved goodbye hard enough that her shoulder ached. "I'll see you on the other side. If it exists." A sudden mist wet the lashes of her dark brown eyes when she saw Eva waving back with just as much intensity, clinging to that portrait like it is the last precious thing she had in this world. Rhoawyn blinked the wetness away, mentally berating herself for being so teary-eyed as she backed around the corner. The aircraft was long gone now.
The last thing she saw is the view of Eva's face—pinched in a sorrow—lips mouthing the words "goodbye." The image of her faded away behind the rotting wood of a dilapidated house at the end of the street, as Rhoawyn turned the corner to walk in the direction of her destiny.