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"Where do you think the machines take them?"
"Still haven't figured it out." His teeth grate with frustration. David likes to solve equations. He's a leader in his age group, and far ahead of his peers according to their intelligence tests.
"I overheard something from one of the simdroids. Something I haven't heard before, like a code name or something."
I practically bob on my toes in excitement. "What is it?"
He looks around again. "Haven."
I wait for more, but David just gazes at me expectantly.
I frown in disappointment. "That's it?"
"That's all. They spoke like it was important. Ever heard that before?"
"No. The simdroids over here don't let anything slip that we aren't supposed to hear. I still have to figure out how to break into the Core."
"Be careful, Julia." David give me a warning look as if he isn't trying to do the same thing.
"You be careful." I grin as I flick a handful of grass at him. Errant blades strike the fence and blacken as they burn.
"I'm serious. I would hate for something to happen to you."
I drop my eyes, embarrassed for reasons I can't explain. "Yeah. You too."
"Promise me you won't do something crazy."
I lift my head, meeting his gaze. "I pro—"
Lights flood the corner so brightly that for a second I think something has exploded. But it's one of the Vultures, hovering above us with its searchlight beaming down like the brightest moon in the world. David and I both leap up, but there is nowhere to go. A Swarm surrounds us, flickering and buzzing threateningly. Simdroid guards swiftly close in. Every avenue of escape mathematically closes off, leaving us nothing to do but raise our hands in surrender.
The guards are black-suited soldier units equipped for mobility and speed. I see my reflection in the visor of the nearest one. My hair whips in the wind from the hovering Vulture, my eyes are wide in apprehension.
"You are in violation of curfew and assembly regulations," the simdroid says. "Follow the directions of your escort to avoid further discipline."
"Just do what they say." David looks very small, surrounded by a circle of onyx robotic figures. "If we don't see each other again...goodbye."
I feel my eyes moisten, but I cut off the tears ruthlessly. I don't want David to see me cry. "Goodbye, David."
"No communication," the simdroid says. My escorts take me by the arms and quickly hustle me away. I try to catch a last glimpse of David, but he's already lost to sight.
☣
"We have been watching you, Michelle."
I'm seated in a chair in a bright room facing a perfectly square frame with a perfect orb centered within. A red dot focuses on me like a fiery pupil from the middle of the sphere. Two guards stand on either side of the door, frozen like ebony statues.
The orb continues its deliberation. "Your every infraction was observed, every moment you thought undetected was recorded."
As if to verify its statement, a video feed of my routine escapes plays on the walls of the room. It's hard not to wince in disappointment as I observe myself so carefully avoiding patrols when all the while hidden eyes continued to spy on me.
"As you can see, we've had our eyes on you for quite some time now. As with your comrade from the boy's barracks. You are unable to comply with the regulations of this facility. Therefore, you will be processed ahead of schedule. Your time here has come to its conclusion, Michelle. Tomorrow you will be purged from this compound along with others like you."
The interview ends, and the guards escort me to a section of the compound I wasn't aware of. I pass by small rooms that appear no larger than prison cells, where other girls peer from behind narrow windows. I recognize a few of them from the classroom. Some of them were leaders of their groups. Some were prone to punishment like I was. They look as frightened as I feel inside.
I'm ushered to a cell and locked inside. Food and water are deposited at regular intervals, allowing me to track approximately how much time passes. The machines ignore every question, so I quit asking. I know they won't keep me locked up forever.
After about a day and a half, the guards return. I wince and shield my eyes when the door opens. Soldier units wait outside.
"Come with us."
The robotic escort takes me down hallways that have served as my home for my entire life. I pass the familiar doorways where students stand at attention as witnesses the Purge. The other girls from the cells are similarly escorted, although they're led only by a single matron instead of a circle of armed guards.
I feel the furtive stares from the girls in the classrooms. Their faces are passive as always, but their eyes glimmer with fear and curiosity. I try not to notice as we pass beyond the classes and into the restricted zone. The hallways darken as if to become more ominous. Sunlight casts blinding rays from the doorways at the end of the corridor. When we approach, they open in a blast of hot air and stinging sand.
I'm unprepared for the desolation, having only seen the Yard and the grounds inside the fence. It's sweltering outside, the landscape barren and bruised. The entire world reduces to shades of brown and dark orange. Dust swirls around, flinging grit in my eyes.
Large vehicles with caterpillar treads rumble into their designated slots and Vultures hover above, filling the air with the sound of their chopper blades. Clusters of children are segregated in groups of boys and girls in drab gray uniforms. They stand still, hands at their sides as they await their judgment. Soldier units are scattered about, sealing off any chance of escape. A matron is assigned to look after each group, seemingly to pacify their charges. They assign me toward the rear of a group of girls my age. The matron looks at me with glassy eyes and a mannequin's face.
"Just stay calm and follow instructions," it says. "Your transition will begin shortly."
"Yes, matron," I say as I stare straight ahead.
As soon as it turns, I slip away.
Every instinct I have tells me something is wrong. There is a sinister undertone to whatever the Purge is, and I feel an almost overwhelming desire to escape.
But not without David.
Grainy clouds of dust are my camouflage as I scamper from one group to the next, trying to locate him. Somehow I know he'll be here, escorted under guard as I was. I have no idea what I can do or how to break out, but some intuition tells me we can figure it out together.
The children ignore my presence as I pass along the lines. They do as they're instructed, which is to stare straight ahead and wait. They make no outcry even when they see me dash past in blatant disregard for the rules. They're almost machines themselves, programmed into obedience that doesn't allow them to deviate from their instructions. I carefully avoid the soldier simdroids, pausing to stand in whatever line I'm in until they pass.
A small commotion rises from the far side. My absence has been noted, limiting my options. They'll search silently at first, to not disturb the lines. But my movements will be observed very soon, and the systematic tracking will begin. I make my way to the front of the boy's section, but the soldiers are thickest there as they load the first group into a nearby transport. I dart to the side, ducking low to avoid detection as I cross over to another group.
That's when I see the bodies.
They're loaded into pill-shaped coffins and packed into a separate transport. Simdroid drones wheel lines of comatose children over on stretchers to await processing. The children lie as if sleeping, yet their bodies are limp and lifeless as mechanical arms lift and deposit them into a waiting capsule. The pod rolls down the line before being hoisted and stored in racks on the nearby transport.
The sound of hurried steps grows louder behind me. I have only two choices: surrender or move. My feet know the answer before I do. I hate to abandon my search for David, but I now realize what my punishment will be for my disobedience. I will end up just another dead child dropped into a coffin for disposal. So I move. I dash forward to the one place I know they won't think to look.
The coffin pods.
I wait before one of the simdroid drones turns before I leap onto the conveyor and worm my way between two of the dead children. They're cold to the touch, as lifeless and alien as the simdroids. I close my eyes and tell myself that they're just bodies. Nothing to be afraid of. But I shudder all the same as their flesh touches mine, and they tremble from the movement of the conveyor.
The installed machine arms at the station don't think. They don't scan for life or identification. They simply do their job, lifting bodies and placing them into the capsules. So when my body arrives at the station, I'm gently lifted by the mechanized arms, deposited into a waiting capsule, and compartmentalized in the transport. My pod slides into place, and the assembly line goes on.
Waiting is agony. Every second is an eternity of worry and doubt. The anticipation of discovery swells until I feel as if I will go insane from the anxiety. The inside of the coffin is constricting and claustrophobic. My breathing fogs the narrow strip of viewing glass, obscuring my view.
I'm trapped more completely than at any other time in my life.