CHAPTER ONE #2
“I know,” Hal said as he watched me. “Your kind calls us monsters.”
“Are you a monster?” I whispered, too curious for my own good.
Hal’s smirk spread. “Would you like to find out?”
Before I could think better, I admitted, “I don’t understand. You don’t look . . .”
Those starburst eyes danced with mirth. “Tell me, Emeline, how do I look?”
“I think you know the answer to that,” I muttered, glancing down once more as my cheeks burned, giving me away.
“Maybe, but it would sound better coming from your lips.” He chuckled, and the sound danced along my skin.
“I—I didn’t mean . . . I simply meant you don’t seem as terrible as the Illum say.”
“Right, that’s all you meant.” His eyes ran over me. “And do you believe everything the blessed Illum tell you?”
“Doesn’t everyone?” I might be brave enough to discuss art, but I wasn’t dumb enough to question the Illum with a man I did not know.
“Perhaps,” Hal drawled, stepping back as he looked toward the hologram of the grieving man. “Perhaps not.”
“The Illum’s rules aren’t to be taken lightly. The Illum are the reason we are all here,” I told him, hating how I sounded.
“They certainly are,” Hal agreed.
“I only meant, why keep you hidden?” I confessed. The Illum valued things of beauty, the world above a glittering display of it. The spaces and the people. The man before me fit in their world.
“Are you implying you like looking at me?” Hal asked, his gaze seeking mine.
My cheeks grew warmer. “I did not say that.”
“You didn’t have to. It’s written all over your face,” he said smugly. “If it makes you feel better, the feeling is mutual.”
My heart fluttered. He liked looking at me. I tried to brush it off—he was in blue, I should keep my distance—but no one had ever told me I was worthy of being seen, let alone enjoyable to look at. I couldn’t stop the warmth that grew in my chest, regardless of the source.
“So, are you here because you like looking at me?” I asked.
“And what if I was?” Hal stepped toward me, and I sank farther into the wall. Raking a hand through his hair, he scoffed. “Right. It’s the blue, isn’t it?”
I shook my head, pulse hammering against my skin. Was it the blue? My approved status? My conditioning? Hal nodded at whatever he found on my face, turning toward the door.
“It isn’t,” I confessed, halting him. I trembled but held his gaze. “It isn’t the blue, not entirely. I’ve never had a visitor here. Ever.”
“How long have you worked down here?” Hal asked.
“Ten years,” I admitted.
Something shifted in his eyes. He blew out a breath. “That’s a long time to be alone. But I should get going; the sun’s up. I should be beneath.”
“Beneath? Don’t you mean Low Town?”
Hal grinned. “Like I said, I can’t give you all our secrets.”
“If you ever—” I pushed off the wall, my blood pounding at my daring. “If you ever want to come back and talk about art . . . I’m always here.”
The corner of his mouth pulled up, a dimple appearing. “I might do that. See you around, Emeline.”
He left.
I stared at the empty doorway as if it were one of the ancient art pieces, filling me with more questions than answers. What secrets did he have? Hal had said beneath, not Low Town. It didn’t measure up to what I had been told about the Major Defects who wore blue.
I glanced at the man in blue in the painting and his eternal struggle. I hesitated, then hit delete, and he disappeared.
I worked through the remaining twenty-two items on the list and found myself staring at the empty doorway as much as the art.
Many of the pieces were landscapes, bursting with colorful flowers, lush trees, and sparkling bodies of water.
I cherished these glimpses of the world the ancient humans felt compelled to capture, one that looked completely unlike ours.
The city the Illum had built was shiny and paved, at least within the city limits.
Was that why there was no new art? Nothing left to inspire new art?
In all my time down here, I had never seen a piece of art dated post– Last War.
The final painting was of a woman holding an offspring.
A third figure, cloaked in white, bowed toward the offspring.
I don’t know how long I stared at it before hitting delete without checking where it was meant to go.
I would have to come up with a reason in my report for why I deleted it.
We were all given a report log in the Archives—a running record of any unusual findings.
I didn’t know how to encapsulate that every detail was unusual, extraordinary.
My reports morphing into elegies. Lo claimed she turned hers in empty most days.
The usual beep from my scanner by the door finally signaled, and I finished typing notes in my report before the screens went black. I gathered my things; then another jarring beep sounded as I scanned my wrist and ran from the ghosts of the paintings I had destroyed.
On my ascent to the surface, other women in gray filed in from the other floors of the Archives.
No hellos were shared among us. The elevator doors opened to the main lobby, light and the sounds of life spilling in.
I blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I had been holding as I approached the large glass doors, where I spotted Lo waiting for me.
The ornate chandeliers overhead cast tiny rainbows throughout the marble hall from the sun’s dying rays. Every surface sparkled and shined.
“Hey, how was work?” I asked.
“Fine, sent lots of books to their doom,” Lo told me. “Not a single one was saved today.”
We exited the building, and I paused in a patch of sunlight, tilting my face up and closing my eyes. “Does it ever bother you that you’re destroying things that might be important?”
“Nope,” Lo said. “If it was important the Illum would keep it.”
I cracked an eye open, peering at Lo on her Comm Device and her absolute trust in the Illum.
Sometimes, I wondered how daily hellos on our synced commutes had turned into this sort-of friendship.
Lo didn’t share any of my concerns. She had accepted the Illum’s world and her role.
Her main goal of achieving a life in the clouds kept her content.
More so, I wondered how I had found myself bending their rules yet again.
I had sworn after my only other friendship was taken from me that I would never do this again.
Friendships weren’t permitted among those in gray.
Most women in gray only saw competition thanks to the Academy.
The same lesson burned into us, over and over.
Now that we have removed the males, look around.
The women around you are vying for your position in the clouds.
Only a select few, the very best, shall be selected.
If the woman next to you trounces you, she will be a contributing factor in the color you wear.
Follow the Illum’s protocol, abide by the rules of the Minor Defect population, and constantly seek self-improvement, and you will rise, fulfilling your use for the Greater Good.
Things had permanently shifted after that lesson. Derision and contention had taken root and only deepened from there.
“How was your art?” she asked. “Have you sunned enough? Can we go?”
“I barely finished my list,” I said, breathing in the warmth, hoarding it until I saw the sun again, then followed Lo toward the line for the Pods.
“Have you ever thought about not looking at the pictures and focusing on the screen? You could just push the buttons. It’d be more productive.”
As we joined the sea of gray, I bit my tongue from saying how the beauty was impossible to ignore. “I don’t think I could do that.”
“It’d make the time go quicker,” Lo told me, unbraiding her long plait until a sheet of golden hair tumbled free. She trailed her hands through the waves. “Plus, none of that matters now. You’re approved.”
My stomach swooped as her words stole the warmth I had relished moments ago. I had told her this morning that I’d been approved, and she had squealed with delight before bombarding me with questions I didn’t have answers to.
“Have you heard anything more yet?” Lo asked.
“No.”
“What are they going to do about your—” Lo hesitated, and my gaze flew to her. “Those.”
“Probably what everyone else does,” I muttered. “Stare.” The unspoken fear that I would be rejected hung heavy between us, and I changed topics. “Has anyone ever come to your office below?”
“No, why?” Her brows pinched.
Could I tell her about Hal? A ding sounded from the depths of my bag. I fished out my Comm Device as Lo pushed closer to me.
“Is it from them?” she hissed. We shuttled forward in the line. “What’s it say?”
I reread the message several times, the Illum’s insignia at the top: A golden circle with one of their impossibly tall buildings erupting from the clouds. The sharp tip was a perch for a gleaming sun, casting its illuminating light upon us all.
F13463233—It has come to our attention that you have been approved for procreation.
Congratulations. The initial meeting with M17292834 has been set for 8:00 this evening following your preparation appointment at 6:00.
All travel information has been loaded to your MIND chip.
If you are deemed acceptable, you will receive the Procreation Contract, which is to be completed and signed prior to your following meeting. Fertile Blessings.
I wrapped a hand around my left wrist, where the miraculous technology from the Illum lay hidden.
Each offspring had a MIND—Monitoring Intelligence Nanochip Device—inserted into the left wrist at birth, providing the Illum’s systems with constant updates on our health, down to our genetic makeup.
I had to scan the chip everywhere: for the hovering transportation Pods, for meals, for work, even for our living quarters.
The Illum gathered vital information from each scan, evaluating our ability to be of use to the Greater Good.
I stared at the last words of the message.
Fertile Blessings. From whatever information they gathered from the device in my wrist, I was finally fertile enough.
I was useful. Approved. My stomach twisted painfully as I glanced at the time on my Comm Device.
I had ten minutes. Ten years of waiting diminished to ten minutes.
I would need to take the Pod straight to the clouds. My heartbeat became a death march.
“What’s it say?” Lo urged, leaning over my shoulder.
I turned the screen toward her so she could read for herself.
Tilting my head back, I took in the skyscrapers that soared into the sky until they disappeared into the clouds.
The Elite were up there, my potential Mate among them.
Would he hold my defective gaze as the man in blue had?
Would he be disgusted? Would he shout the words my birth father had tossed my way?
“Tonight?” she exclaimed. “That’s so quick, Emeline. It’s happening.”
“Yeah, right in the middle of the transition,” I said, looking at the fellow Defects around us.
“They’re all going to see. Maybe I should wait until it thins out.
” The Pod, a sleek oblong hovering transportation vehicle, would make a loud announcement the moment I scanned, alerting everyone in gray.
Lo looked at the others. “You don’t want to be late, though. It might count against you.”
The line before us dwindled. A crammed Pod zoomed away.
“Your future depends on your ability to comply with your Mate’s desires,” Lo whispered. Goosebumps erupted down my arms at her repetition of the words the Academy had uttered throughout our education.
What if . . . what if I couldn’t?
There were gowns, balls, and luxury up there, but they hid more than beauty beyond the clouds. It was dangerous in the clouds for people like me. I would be watched and judged. I had to comply with my Mate’s wishes and the Illum. Fail to do so and I would be thrown in blue—or eliminated entirely.
Lo pressed into my back, ushering me toward the open doors of the Pod. It was almost full. I stuck out a shaking arm, scanning my chip.
A loud horn blared through the Pod, followed by an automated female voice.
“ALL DEFECTS, PLEASE EXIT THE TRANSPORTATION POD IMMEDIATELY.”
Groans accompanied the disgruntled women exiting the Pod, pushing past me. Seething words slipped from their mouths as angry eyes ran up and down the length of me. “She’ll be cast down soon enough,” one muttered. “Look at her eyes.”
My heart slammed in my throat. I stepped onto the Pod, the divide taking hold. A location I had never seen appeared on the Pod transport screen, the lights softening.
“F13463233 APPROVED FOR AUTHORIZED TRANSPORT.”
Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. Approved. The word merged with my raging heart.
I was approved, not accepted. My gaze snagged on the firm line of Lo’s mouth as she remained with the others and the doors closed. The Pod shot up into the sky, leaving behind everything I knew.
The Pod ascended, and my stomach dipped.
The surface sprawled in all directions. From this vantage point, I could see the five sectors: the Wastelands, a flat stretch of land devoid of anything but rows of squat brick housing, home to female Minors; the Banks, buildings identical to ours that ran along the opposite side of the river, home to the male Minors who served the Illum on the surface; High Town, below me, the ground floor of all their towering skyscrapers; the split black and white pyramid of the Academy to the south; the Sanctuary, where pregnant women outside of Cohabitation Agreements were sent, cloistered behind a large stone wall on the eastern side of the city; and farthest away, to the west, across the river where it splits, the archaic, dilapidated buildings of Low Town. Home of the Majors.
As the clouds engulfed the Pod, my reflection stared back at me, blurring out everything else. The thing no one could bear to look at, myself included. A mark against the Elite’s beauty and perfection—my defect.
I barely registered the slightly angular face, creamy pale skin, high cheekbones, straight nose, and full mouth, all surrounded by a mess of long, curly brown hair.
A rather alluring face, beautiful even, if I could look past my flaw.
I had my birth father’s symmetry and my birth mother’s delicate grace, but it was wasted.
My left eye was crystal blue as if made of ice chips, and my right eye a deep, rich brown, almost depthless.
That girl is a disgrace to our genes. Our legacy.
The Pod broke through the clouds, leaving my reflection below and replacing it with the world of the Elite.