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on him. He was only thirteen when that happened. When he had his trial, they said that his crime was justified, so he didn’t go to prison. He finished growing up in an orphan’s home, and his anger never left him. When he got older, the dictator selected him to be in charge of the Vipero. He figured that in order to command someone to do the types of things that Vipero do, you have to be so consumed with anger that you know nothing else. He was perfect for the job.
I just look at him, completely incredulous. “How do you know all of this?” I ask him.
He looks at the ground. “He had two sons. Different mothers. The brothers were close in age, and they had a strong friendship. But one of them was an Azulate. When he was sent here to the Academy, the man didn’t say a word, didn’t wave at his son, nothing. He stood there, stripped of all emotion as his son was taken away forever. The other was sent here as a sanitation worker so that their dad wouldn’t have to pay any attention to him.”
He pauses, and I think about the story. I’ve heard it from somewhere, but I don’t know where. I look at him, and then I remember where I’ve heard this same story, from another boy.
“My brother turned five. It was a couple weeks after my fifth birthday. We didn’t have the same mom. And he was… he is, I guess, an Azulate. And I’ll never forget the day that he was taken. My father… he just stood there. He didn’t give him a hug, he didn’t even say anything to him.” He shook his head. “After that day, I hated him. For the next eleven years, I didn’t want anything to do with him. Then I turned sixteen, and he sent me to work here so that he wouldn’t have to deal with me anymore.”

Earlier in the conversation, this boy had mentioned the medals and the government job. I put all the pieces together, and shook my head. It can’t be him,

I thought.
But a look at Mathew confirms that my assumption was correct. “Collin,” I whisper. “You mean her grandfather,” I point to Belle, “is the man that she will have to go up against some day?” Mathew nods. “Well that’s just great. What if she ends up just like him?”
Mathew shakes his head. “That won’t happen. I promise you.”
“How do you know? She’s supposed to lead the revolution. How can she do that if evil is in her genes?”
He just takes a deep breath. “Evil doesn’t skip a generation. It either stops, or it passes on to the very next generation. Collin wasn’t evil. So Belle won’t be evil.”
I nod, although I don’t quite understand his logic. I think about all the things that almost always skip a generation. Why is evil any different?

“Okay, I guess. But you said that he had another son, an Azulate. Who was that?” He just looks at me, his eyes heavy with the sadness that gives away the answer. “Oh.”

Chapter 18



A week’s gone by, and I’m still free. I haven’t been arrested, and no one’s said anything to me about my rant. But I’m always on my toes, always waiting for someone to come and take me away. But it hasn’t happened yet. And I’m tired of waiting.
Fortunately, I don’t have to wait much longer. I’m taking Belle to lunch when I run into a group of Vipero. “We were just on our way to your room,” says one. He must be new here, because I’ve never seen him before.
“Can I go get this young lady some lunch first?” I ask them, gesturing to Belle. “She’s a growing girl. Needs her food.”
The new guard shakes his head. “Orders are to take her to Dr. Pender until we’re done with you.” He steps forward and extends his hand to her. “Hey, Belle.” A soft, comfortable voice has replaced his hard, indifferent voice as he speaks to her. “Let’s go see Dr. Pender.” She grabs hold of his hand and allows him to lead her down the hall.
“Okay, where are you guys taking me?” I turn to the remaining Vipero. I don’t recognize any of them either, which is strange. I’ve been here for fourteen years, and I’ve never seen such a big group of new young men to rule over us.
“You’re going to come draw for us,” says one. He starts to walk away.
“Again? You guys don’t get it, do you? I won’t give you what you want. I’m not going to betray my family and friends, and millions of innocent people, just to make you guys happy. I’ll fight you every step of the way, no matter what you do. I won’t give in.”
The leader of the group just snickers. “You think you’re so tough, right? You think we can’t break you?” A grin appears on his face, a grin that almost knocks me over. It isn’t quite evil, but it’s the next step down. It’s the desire for power, so strong that the carrier of this emotion will do whatever it takes to get the power. I’ve seen this look before, only once. I’ve seen it on a screen, in an office below Floor One. But I’ve never seen it on someone so young. “We’ll see about you, Meagan.”
For the rest of the time, we don’t speak. He leads me to the same cleared-out office, but there is another Vipero waiting at the door.
“Every morning after you eat, you are to report to this room. You will draw a Memory that explains how we can win this revolution. Belle will go to Dr. Pender’s room. You must be in this room for two hours each morning. You may draw as many Memories as you like.” He opens the door as if he is a gentleman holding the door for his date. “Any questions?”
“Yes, actually. Why me? You know that I won’t give in. So why waste your time with me?”
“Scientific reasons. We have several experiments riding on this. But there is also another reason. You are the only one who knows about the revolution.” With his tone, he dares me to tell anyone else. With his glare, he tells me what will happen if I do tell anyone. With his smile, he wishes that I tell someone.
Before I can say anything back to him, I’m pushed through the open door and am plunged into darkness as the door is shut.
Being locked in a DarkRoom has a strange effect on you. It’s a strange sensation that you never get used to, but you never forget.
It’s the feeling of being trapped. You can’t get out, you can’t go anywhere, until you do what they want. You’re trapped in your body, alone with your thoughts as you decide each day what to do. Do you stay in that room forever, so they don’t get satisfaction? Or do you give them what they want? A piece of history, a piece of you, that you not only lose forever, but that keeps you from ever having freedom. It’s knowing that, every day, you must give yet another piece for them to add to their collection. One more piece that you will never get back.
It’s been almost four years since I felt this sensation. It’s been a long time, but I am quickly reminded of the purpose of my existence. As far as others are concerned, I am to spend my life in a room like this, drawing pieces of the past.
I sit in the chair for a few minutes, trying to make my decision. Drawing what they want will break me. It will make me their puppet, something I’ve worked hard not to be for a long time. But drawing something else will be yet another rebellious act, and I don’t know how many strikes I have left.
But there’s a point when you stop caring about what happens to you. There’s a point when you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself if you did the thing that would keep you safe. There’s a time when right and wrong blend and mix, leaving you confused. There’s a time when other people- strangers that you’ll never meet- mean more than your life.
It may seem strange, but this is one of those times. You’re probably thinking that I’m being overly dramatic, that it’s just a little rebellion that will die out. But if I do my best to start a rebellion here in the Academy, then it might give the rebellion on the outside a chance.
So after about ten minutes of thinking, I press my pencil to my paper and begin to draw. When I’m done, I smile. Some might not understand, but I know that some will.
It’s a park on a sunny day. Moms and dads sitting on benches, kids running around on the playground. People are holding hands, walking their dogs, buying ice cream from the ice cream truck.
It’s a scene that doesn’t exist anymore. The New World doesn’t have parks, with playgrounds or ice cream trucks. There are no pets allowed now, as they aren’t practical. And casual displays of affection, like holding hands, are almost unheard of. One shows that they’re romantically attached to someone only on special occasions and in their own home.
I flip it over and write. I write about the harmony of things when people are free to choose. I write that people are happy, more likely to cooperate when they have freedom.
I take it to the red dot, and then I wait. The next hour and 45 minutes are longer than an entire day. With nothing to do, no one to talk to, I almost fall asleep. But my overactive mind won’t allow me to spend the rest of the time in sweet unconsciousness. I think about the revolution, and what my punishment will be once they finally decide that I won’t be any help to them.
When the time is up, I hear the click of the door being unlocked. I calmly walk out, and am surprised that the hallway is empty. I head to Dr. Pender’s office to pick up Belle, and then carry on with the rest of my day as normal.
For the next week, I fall back into the same type of routine that I had when I was on Floor One. Wake up, eat breakfast, draw a Memory, spend the rest of my day talking to people. At lunch, I stay in my room and talk to the man that I love, and watch him go back to work.
To some people, routine means safety. To me, though, it means danger. There’s always something that catches you off guard, destroys your routine so suddenly that you are unable to react.

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