FREE SAMPLE (Ch.1)

I was graduating, and my teacher couldn’t be more disappointed.

At most schools, graduating means you have succeeded. The virtual diploma signifies your achievement and grants you acceptance and opportunities in life. Teachers will do everything to ensure their students pass the final test.

For my class, however, graduating means we have failed. The virtual diploma demotes us to unteachable savages, and our teachers will do everything they can to ensure we drop out as soon as possible.

Today I graduate. Today I officially become a failure, an inmate who went through years of government schooling and still refused to sign the file. A Christian who survived hundreds of hours of conditioning, belittling, and propagandizing and still won’t deny her religion.

Unassimilated. Reprobate. Criminal without any rights of citizenship.

Those were the terms my homeroom teacher hurled at me as he tried to dissuade me from accepting my diploma. It took all my willpower not to smile at him.

I was mildly surprised when he kept his tirade brief. I guess he finally understood that if I hadn’t succumbed after being in his high school class for four years, another fifteen minutes of lecturing wouldn’t make a difference.

“The principal will see you,” he finished with a dismissive wave of his hand. He ungracefully flopped down in his chair and looked entirely fed-up, clearly wondering how all his years of schooling had condemned him to this moment.

I indulged in a cheeky smirk as I skipped out of the classroom and down the hall.

I composed myself as I came within sight of the principal’s closed door. A pinch of fear wiped the smile off my face.

I desperately hoped the principal just wanted to talk to me. Sometimes being sent to the office meant someone else was here to see me—like Mrs. Nolan.

Banishing memories of the buttery voice from my head, I straightened my shoulders and rapped on the door.

“Come in, Philadelphia.”

I offered up a quick prayer as I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The principal was sitting with her hands folded on the desk, staring straight at me. I wondered how long she had been posed like that, waiting for my arrival.

“Decided to graduate, have you?” she declared.

She didn’t sound as frustrated about it as my homeroom teacher—probably because she wasn’t surprised.

“Yes, ma’am,” I replied.

“Sit down.”

I obeyed, and she shoved a tablet computer across the desk towards me. “You need to sign this file indicating that you have been offered remedial services through our institution and have voluntarily refused them.” She tapped the legal document displayed on the screen. “You’re acknowledging that, due to your unassimilated status at graduation, you will not be receiving a full high school diploma and are not entitled to the rights and privileges associated with one, although your academic record will still be posted to your file for future reference.”

I thought it was delightfully ironic that I had to sign a file stating that I refused to sign the other file—the file that said I agreed to submit to United regulations as an assimilated citizen, which included denial of any and all religious, racial, and national identities. I suppose, since they couldn’t get me to sign that file, they would get me to sign another, just for formality’s sake.

I couldn’t keep the smile off my face as I picked up the stylus and wrote my signature as tidily as possible.

The principal typed on her keyboard, and another legal document appeared on the tablet. “And this is your consent to be submitted for consideration in our Assisted Employment Program.”

I squinted at the fine print on the document, waiting for her to explain before I signed.

“As an unassimilated citizen, you are eligible to be employed in select fields under the supervision of the United. Inclusion in the program also makes you eligible for opportunities for higher education and specialized training. Please note, however, that unassimilated citizens have far fewer opportunities for employment and education than citizens with full rights.”

I looked up to find her gazing down her nose at me. I knew that was the final prod—one last opportunity to sign the file, join the Outside, and get a real job.

“No thank you, ma’am,” I replied.

She didn’t even blink. Turning back to her screen, she continued to recite: “If admitted, you will be assigned a job at the United’s discretion. Your position and hours will be regulated by the government, and you will serve under the supervision of certified employers. You will not earn monetary compensation, but you may receive extra credit on your account for the purchase of necessary items, as deemed appropriate by the government based on your performance.”

I went ahead and signed the file as she talked. I knew from experience that the employment program wasn’t as horrible as she made it sound. Daddy had been working through the program since we had been contained, and he said it was like working a regular job, except that all your paychecks were in the form of credit to use through the United’s approved catalog. But since the unassimilated could only own approved items anyway, that didn’t seem like a huge sacrifice.

“Now, we need to fill out your application. Have you ever held any kind of job before?”

I set the stylus down and frowned at her. Didn’t the United already have that information on file? They had been in complete control of my entire life for the past five years and had a pretty good hold on it before that; the government would know if I had ever held a job.

But I knew better than to answer sarcastically; Daddy said sarcasm wasn’t respectful. “No, ma’am.”

She nodded and clicked her mouse. “Have you had any special training for any particular fields?”

She ought to have known the answer to that, too—unassimilated citizens couldn’t get any education except through the government. “No.”

She clicked another box on the application. “And in what fields do your family members work?”

“My father and brother are scientists,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t ask me what branch of science. I could never keep them straight. “But I’ve never assisted them professionally,” I added.

She nodded and typed a bit. “Well, you’re a clean slate, then!”

I didn’t like the perky tone of her voice. She made it sound like I was a mindless drone the United could program however they wanted.

Sadly, that was probably the case.

The principal submitted the application and spun her chair back around to face me. “You’re all set! You’re dismissed.” She sounded so nonchalant about it, like a dental receptionist happily sending a patient off with clean teeth.

“Thank you, ma’am,” I said as I rose. “And goodbye.”

She didn’t respond to that as I slipped out the door.

I slinked back to my classroom. I walked in to hear our teacher lecturing the few remaining unassimilated students about their duties as citizens, admonishing them not to be a deplorable failure like me. My friends Cami and Aid shared a gleeful glance and then winked in my direction.

As I sat down, the teacher wrinkled his nose at me like I was a species of pest that refused to be exterminated.

“Remember your former students, Mira and Stanyard. They accepted the wonderful opportunity the United offered them and went on to enjoy productive lives as free members of society,” he said, staring at me as though he knew the comment would hurt me the most.

Cami and Aid stopped smirking. I hung my head and didn’t look up again until the bell rang.

Lieutenant Clint picked us up from school in a United van. He was the new supervisor of our containment camp, having replaced Commander Ambrose who had been abruptly transferred a few months ago. One of the first things he had done upon taking control was to file a complaint that a full-size bus staffed with three armed guards was too much expense for the handful of elementary and high school students who still resided in our camp. Apparently his supervisors were more interested in saving money than they were in making a statement, because they had allowed him to start transporting us by himself in an unarmored van.

I liked the new arrangement. I had always enjoyed our brief sojourn across the Outside every day, but I enjoyed it even more now that our ride didn’t turn heads, as the overgrown bus with the condemning words ASSIMILATION SERVICES splayed on the side had.

Being the oldest and therefore presumably bravest, I volunteered to sit shotgun next to the lieutenant. Normally he did not talk to us except to take a headcount or impart United announcements, but today he glanced at me as he navigated the harried late-afternoon traffic.

“Are you officially graduated now?”

“Yes,” I replied, tensing and waiting to see if he would be scornful.

“Did you apply to the employment program?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and turned back to face the road. “Good. I’ll see what I can do to arrange for a job for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, mostly as a way to close the conversation. I wasn’t sure how I felt about the lieutenant taking a personal interest in me. If Commander Ambrose had arranged a job for me, I would have been very wary that it was part of some scheme to get me—or my father—to sign. But Lieutenant Clint had so far shown himself to be more realistic, if not disinterested.

But why was he offering to arrange a job for me when he had not yet secured one for my father?

Maybe today was the day. Maybe today he had found something, and my father and brother would meet me at the door with excited smiles. Or better yet, maybe today they wouldn’t be home to meet me at all, having gone for orientation at their new job.

That line of thought was the only way I could justify feeling disappointed when Daddy opened the door to meet me as I approached the step of our concrete home.

“Congratulations on your graduation,” he said with a smile—the first proud smile I had received all day, and the only one I needed.

I beamed and hugged him. He returned the affection with a kiss on the top of my head.

“No news?” I prodded as we went inside.

He shook his head but retained a chipper tone. “Nothing today, but we have some new leads.”

“What he means is none of the labs in this region want us, so Clint is going to ask all the labs in the neighboring districts,” my brother Ephesus quipped from the kitchen. We came around the corner to find him sitting at the table, scowling at his laptop.

“Let’s not talk about that tonight,” Daddy said firmly. “We have a graduation to celebrate.” He squeezed my shoulders, and I grinned.

Ephesus flashed a quick smile at me but kept talking. “I can’t imagine the United will approve our transfer to another camp, though, and I desperately hope they’d consider commuting too much of an expense. We’d never be home if we had to commute that far.”

I didn’t like the idea of transferring, or of my only family being gone any more than they had to, but where else could they go for work? “Have you reapplied to the chemical research lab?” I said with weak hope. “Maybe now that the investigation with Dr. Nic has been completed, they’ll let you back in…”

Ephesus was shaking his head despondently before I even finished.

“But the lab always wanted you before,” I pouted, flopping down next to him. I thought of the long hours and special assignments that had kept them away so often in the past. What had changed?

“That was before we worked on Red Rain,” Ephesus snapped.

“But it wasn’t your project! You were… working against your will,” I fumbled, not sure how to say it without offending him—or bringing back painful memories.

“Yeah, and I think that’s the only reason they’re not prosecuting me as an insurrectionist like they did with Nic.” Ephesus crossed his arms and glanced away, but not before I saw the flicker of guilt in his eyes.

Daddy sat down with us at the table and touched Ephesus’s shoulder. “We should just be grateful that no further trouble came from it.”

Ephesus relaxed and unfolded his arms, but he didn’t turn to look at us.

“But what about you?” I asked, looking imploringly at Daddy. “You didn’t work on the project.”

Daddy’s expression was calm. “I was still involved.”

Even though I knew he was being sensible, I couldn’t copy his complacency. “But you were on the United’s side! You turned Dr. Nic in.”

“No, I didn’t. You did.”

I stared at him.

A proud smile lifted his lips as he said, “You’re the one that stalled Dr. Nic and called the authorities.”

“Yeah,” Ephesus piped up, “you’re the good little Unionist. If there’s anyone they’ll be fond of, it’s you.”

I glanced at him, and he winked. I couldn’t bring myself to smile back, even though I knew he was teasing. I didn’t like comparing myself to a compliant Unionist.

“Does that mean they’ll probably give me a job?” I asked, turning back to Daddy. The United had never given me any recognition for turning in Dr. Nic except to question me briefly about the events. Was it possible my involvement had made a favorable mark on my file?

Daddy reached across the table and found my hand. “I don’t know. But I do know that you’ll be rewarded for your work one day, even if it isn’t by the United.” He squeezed my hand and smiled.

I smiled back.