The Colony

Chapter 3-1

Chapter 3

When society crumbled and the world as it once had been was destroyed, those who created the Colony retreated to a large island just off the coast. All bridges leading to the mainland were detonated during the last World War, the buildings razed, and the streets crumbled into dust. From the ashes of this devastation, the Colony rose like a mythical phoenix. Protocols were put into place immediately to protect the few who had survived. A military state fashioned around scientists and engineers, the architects of our future.

That was hundreds of years ago—ancient history, taught to children in class and promptly forgotten. We never knew war, or pestilence, or hunger. We never knew want. The Colony sustained us, and our parents before us, and their parents before them. The cycle was eternal, never ending. Complete.

A monorail circled around the Colony and bisected the homes to the south from the business district further north. The rail ran every fifteen minutes, day or night, two trains always equidistance apart. Coming and going, into infinity, drawing a tight number eight around both halves of one whole. Fortunately, my home was next to the northbound rail, which gave me an extra few moments in the morning before I would miss the train.

In the bright early sunlight, I stood on the platform alone and waited. I fancied I could hear the faint hum of the rail, but I knew it was the train farther down the track making the noise. I envisioned it on the opposite side of the houses, blocks away, stopping a moment to take on students heading to class or adults heading into the office. I should ride through the school stop and onto the Health Center, I thought, get that over with, but I was afraid. My heart hammered and my palms sweated. More than once, I wiped them on my pants in an effort to dry them.

It didn’t work.

The next time I wiped my hands down my sides, someone took the left one. Fingers laced through mine and I turned to find Brin smiling up at me. My age, she had naturally tanned skin and brownish-blonde hair that reminded me of the fine sand lining the sidewalks. Her bright blue eyes were veiled with thick lashes, and when she smiled, a dimple appeared just to the right of her full lips.

Maybe it was because I was biologically created to think so, but no other girl in our year looked as pretty. No one else came close, except…

Except Kyer.

The thought came unbidden and I pushed it away with a shake of my head. I gave Brin’s hand a squeeze. “Hey, there you are.”

“You didn’t wait for me,” she chided.

Brin lived next door to us—the Birthing Committee went to great lengths to ensure Others grew up together, assigning them to parents in close proximity to each other. In all my memories, Brin was there, front and center. I grew up knowing she was mine. No matter how nervous or anxious I felt, just seeing her calmed me down.

I took a deep breath, steady for the first time since the screen clicked on above my door earlier that morning. “I’m sorry,” I said, with another squeeze of her hand. “I guess I just didn’t…”

A small frown creased her forehead. “Are you all right?”

Automatically, I answered, “I’m fine. Why would you ask?”

“You’re pale.” Her free hand drifted to brush my cheek. Her fingertips felt cold in the cool morning air. “You’re very warm, and your hand is sweaty. Are you ill?”

“I don’t think so.” I pulled back from her touch, turning my face away. Was it that obvious? If I had known I’d be under such scrutiny for not taking my pill, I would’ve gotten down on my hands and knees and licked the powder off the carpet. Anything to fit in. Anything to go unnoticed.

And give up the dream? my mind whispered. The image flooded my senses—Kyer’s closeness, his hand on my leg, the delicious feeling of anticipation deep within that lingered upon awaking. As my Other, Brin could touch me without it seeming improper, but I’d never felt with her the way I had with Kyer in the dream. I’d face any inquisition if only to feel it again.

Thinking fast, I explained, “I woke early this morning for some reason. I guess I just feel a little off today.”

“Before the chime?” Brin narrowed her eyes as she studied me. “That can’t be good. Did you take your pills last night?”

“What? Of course.” I gave her a strange look as if to say, Are you mad? “Didn’t you?”

Her smile slid shyly into view. “Every night. Maybe you need a higher dose. That happened to me once.”

I turned to her, interested now. “When?”

A thin blush crept into her cheeks and, too late, I realized she wasn’t talking about the blue pill at all but the red one. “Oh, you know. Girl stuff.” When I didn’t reply, she added in a small voice, “You know what I’m talking about, Aine. Don’t make me say it out loud.”

Her discomfort made me forget my own. Freeing my hand from hers, I draped my arm around her shoulders and hugged her awkwardly, much the same way I had hugged my mother earlier. “I have to stop by the Health Center and get it checked out,” I told her. “Everything will be fine.”

She raised her hand to hold mine where it dangled from her shoulder. “You can’t miss class. We have the Monitor tour today.”

Ah, right. We were at the age where the Colony began testing our abilities to find the best job for us once classes were over. Last week, we toured the Birthing Center, and Brin scored exceptionally well on the aptitude test afterward. Today, we were scheduled to tour the Monitor Center, and see what happened behind the scenes—or rather, the screens that peered into every room in the Colony. Even though I didn’t want to sit on the other side of a screen for the rest of my life, I was curious to know what went on out of sight when the screen was dark. What they saw. What they knew.

“After class, then,” I promised her.

At our feet, the rail began to vibrate, and in the distance, I heard the whoosh of brakes as the train slowed at another platform further down the track. Another few moments and it’d stop for us.

Brin reminded me, “We have rec time tonight, remember?”

“I have to go,” I told her. “The Monitor said today. I’ll be a little late to rec if I have to.”

“They won’t let you in,” Brin warned.

“I’ll get a pass,” I assured her.

In the distance, the monorail appeared like a silver bullet streaking by the quiet homes. Doors opened and other students hurried to our platform, crowding for a position. I kept Brin close, protecting her, and when she boarded the train first, she held my hand in a firm grip to pull me up after her. As we hurried down the aisle in search of a pair of empty seats, the train lunged along the rail into the heart of the Colony.