Dark World: The Surface Girl (2 page)

              When females achieve pregnancy the fetus is regularly monitored and if any test reveals significant problems, termination is mandatory. Yet another decree put in place
for our benefit.
The government claims they are doing my gender a service by forcing termination if the fetus is problematic rather than making us suffer the emotional consequences of having to put a defective baby to sleep after its born. No one is allowed to live unless we have the potential to be a useful, functioning member of The Complex. The good of the many outweighs the importance of the one.

              My name is Ruby but my ID number identifies me as Complex Resident R-1046. I'm almost sixteen years old. Last year after genetic testing, I was assigned C-2246, otherwise known as Connor, as a future mate. I don't know anything about him and I am expected to spend my life with him. This “sense of security” does not comfort me like it does so many others. I already resent Connor just for existing. I know that isn't fair but neither is the fact that I have no say in the matter. The government uses Doctrine to control and dictate our lives. They can put us to sleep, smack us with rulers and force us into visible compliance, but they cannot go into my head and take my dreams and feelings away from me. I won't let them.
              My mind still asks questions. I still want something more for myself than the life that is being forced upon me. Maybe I got my unwavering desire for adventure by holding on to Grandpa Logan's last words, or maybe that longing has been in my heart since the day I was born. Lately, I feel endlessly torn between wanting to sooth my mothers constant fear for my life by outwardly cooperating with “simple expectations” like accepting without questioning, marrying Connor and having my own child with him, and wanting to know more, be more, see more, and do more. Grandpa Logan was the one that told me one day I would change the world and I wanted that more than anything – I just didn't know how. Even though I had learned to keep my mouth shut, my eyes were always open. The only question now before me was if an opportunity to change the world ever presented itself during my lifetime, would I have the courage to take it?

Chapter 1
 

              When I was twelve I asked my mother if she thought I would have a chance at someday being chosen for a shuttle mission. Her eyes immediately narrowed and her lips pressed tightly together like she was trying to hold back an explosion. Anxiety displayed itself as lines tightening across the corners of her mouth and it frightened, and guilted me.
             
Another question I shouldn't ask. Noted.
              Sigh.
             
It wasn't that my mother's paralyzing fears about my discontented spirit finally broke my naturally adventurous curiosity, but I learned that the more complacent I appeared to be, the less likely people were to keep a watchful eye on me. If everyone assumed I finally accepted my virtually meaningless life they wouldn't feel the need to pay me any special attention. As I got older my questions and dreams, although still very prominent in my mind, had to settle for resting behind a false smile and an obedient nod.
              I knew the geological facts about what happened to our planet after the invasion. Nothing currently remained on the surface above us but darkness and the possible terrifying living mutation, and on the other side of the planet, fires that spread far across the land. My only real chance to escape from the confines of The Complex would have been landing a spot on one of the five-year shuttles, but last year my genetics were found to be compatible with someone in another division. My inevitable destiny to marry and mate with Connor C-2246 made me want to throw up in my mouth. Being mated meant that any chance I had to be chosen for a shuttle mission was officially extinguished. I hated him for that. His very existence was a snake wrapping itself snugly around my lungs and squeezing until I could no longer breathe. Those who were chosen for missions were often found to have minor but not life-threatening physical imperfections that make them ineligible for breeding. Besides, none of the shuttles had ever returned from a mission, so for all we knew, getting chosen for a one might be the prolonged equivalent of getting put to sleep.
              I barely got any rest last night. Tiny buzzing flies circulated within the bile in my stomach and no amount of tossing and turning was succeeding in calming them. Sixteen.
Sweet sixteen, yeah right.
There was nothing sweet about it. Tonight would be my first mandatory “date” with Connor and I couldn’t even fathom the idea of having to be in the same room with him. I didn't want him to look at me and think that I was
his
, because I would never be his. Not where it counted.. not in my heart.

              The flashing wakelight in my chambers refused to allow me to stay in bed with my eyes closed so I gave in and rose. The vulturous flies in my stomach beat themselves against its walls even harder. I rubbed bathing powder over my skin and through my hair, but I still didn't feel clean. It was only when I began raking my fingernails down my right forearm that I realized I might never feel clean again, especially after Connor laid eyes on me. My body was not my own to keep to myself or give away to a person of my own choosing. I didn't want to admit that it never was in the first place. How lucky people were B-I when they got to choose their own mates freely, and in their own time. I knew the moment I walked out of my chambers my mother would invasively cling to me as desperately as she had on the day Grandpa Logan was taken to the transitional containers. She would go on and on about how fast I have grown up and how she can hardly believe that it was already the day I would meet my mate for the first time. I would have to hold my breath and count to five before I would be able to put on a fake smile, nod a few times and choke back all of my own weepy tears and cries of protest. For her sake I would have to at least half-heartedly pretend that I was looking forward to tonight. If she knew how I really felt, she would be terrified for me again and her fear would be my fault.
              I slipped on my regulation uniform; an aqua shirt with a single pocket over my left breast and a pair of slightly loose-fitting slacks of the same color with an elastic waistband. I ran a comb through my freshly cleaned hair and watched how it floated around my shoulders as if gravity barely existed. My shining auburn hair was thin when it came to the individual strand, but there was a lot of it so it had a certain flow when I moved, almost like water. Anything that moved like water was considered beautiful.

              I briefly considered cutting all of my hair off down to my scalp before meeting Connor tonight. Maybe if I was ugly he would refuse to mate with me. I knew that was wishful thinking, refusal wasn't allowed (if it was, I would be the one refusing before he even had the chance) but maybe he would at least find it hard to look at me and that would make this better, easier. I continued to stare at my haunted reflection and the longer I stared, the less I could imagine myself nearly bald. What frightened me was that it wouldn’t just be Connor who might look away from me if I were ugly – but someone else might, too. Someone who mattered to me more than Connor ever would.

              I tore my eyes away from my own reflection and tightly squeezed them shut. I tried to push away thoughts of the person I would lose forever after tonight but consciously trying to reject those intrusions inevitably drew them closer. I wouldn't feel so dirty if it were his eyes on me instead of Connor's. His doe-brown, glistening orbs were endless and profound. When they gazed at me they became heat lamps. Electricity would birth itself at the base of my spine and work its way upwards, causing my body to shudder but in a good way. When the backs of his fingers brushed against mine I would bite down on my lower lip to contain a gasp. Dimples appeared on his cheeks when he smiled, and when he moved his hand to his forehead and absentmindedly brushed back thick strands of longish chocolate brown hair, it was like watching an artist stroke a paintbrush across a canvas. Reese was a work of art, the embodiment of everything that was perfect in this world. Watching even the tiniest of his movements was like watching a ballet. Everything about him was graceful and mesmerizing.

              I would never be gifted the opportunity to dance with Reese. I would never know the all-consuming internal fire of his fingertips grazing across my skin nor the explosion of his warm, moist lips pressing against my own. I would spend my whole life with nothing but daydreams that faded and an imagination that was constantly betraying me. Would the only way I could force myself to tolerate Connor's touch be to close my eyes and imagine he was Reese instead?
              The back of my hand rose to the slightly darkened circle under my eye and wiped away a few tears.

             
Stop it. You can't cry today. You have to hold it together.

             
Commanding myself to accept my fate was as useful as boobs on a man. All I could do was wipe my eyes one more time, straighten my shoulders and force myself to begin this dreadful day.

              Sure enough, the moment I stepped out of my chambers I was crushed against my mothers chest. “Happy Birthday, Ruby!” She squealed happily into my ear. We were polar opposites right now. I knew why she was happy. I knew my resistance to accept my duties in life made her fear that I would be sent to the transitional containers, but once I met Connor tonight my marriage two years down the road would seem officially underway and that would help calm her uneasiness. I was obviously not a mother myself but I could still understand her basic point of view. I would never forget how I felt when I watched the flatfoots drag Grandpa Logan away. I would never forgive them. I was the only person my parents had and I knew that losing me would break them beyond repair and make them feel like failures.

             
Crap.
             
I had to figure out some way to get through this. If not for myself, then for my parents.

              “Thanks Mom,” I finally replied as she loosened her grip. She raised her hands and brushed back a few straying strands of my hair, catching my gaze with her own.
              “You look beautiful, Ruby. You really do. You've grown up so much.” I shifted my eyes. My mother's barely audible sigh had not been lost on me. “Someone special is here to see you.”

              It was actually amazing to me how one single, simple sentence could manage to send me through three different extreme emotional moments in about two seconds flat.

             
WHAT IF ITS CONNOR OH MY GOD NO I'M NOT READY I'M NOT READY FOR THIS I DONT WANT THIS

              No, it couldn't be Connor. Our “date” was not scheduled until six o'clock in the evening. I would be formally escorted to our meeting room because the “date” was to take place in Connor's home division Connecticut, which I would then be forced to transfer to after our wedding. I didn't even have the option to pick which division I wanted to live in. I would be forcibly wed to Connor and then I would only be allowed to see my own parents on designated visiting days once every six months. Unauthorized, unescorted and/or frequent traveling between divisions was not permitted. Connor could not be here this morning because that would not be in accordance with Doctrine. This was the first moment in my life that I was thankful for something dictated in that stupid law scroll.

             
WAIT, WHAT IF ITS REESE? I CAN'T FACE HIM RIGHT NOW! IF I LOOK AT HIM I WILL CRY AND MY PARENTS WILL KNOW AND THEY WILL BE AS TERRIFIED FOR ME AS THEY WERE WHEN GRANDPA LOGAN WAS TAKEN.
             
Reese wouldn't have come in the morning, though. He was not an early riser and he avoided my parents whenever he could. He never said why, but there was always a small part of me that hoped he was carrying the same secret I was. Maybe he was worried that if they saw his lingering gaze or the way he would step just a bit closer to me than he needed to, they would know and they would be afraid. But that was all in my imagination, maybe. I don't think his gaze lingered, I think time just slowed down in my head whenever he looked at me. I don't think he deliberately stepped closer to me, I think I just read too much into his habit of shifting his weight from foot to foot while standing. Honestly, it wouldn't be comforting if he felt for me the way I felt for him. It would make me hate Connor even more. It would make spending my last two years in my own division being able to see Reese almost every day that much more difficult.

             
I BET IT'S WILLOW!!
             
That possibility cheered me up a bit and because it was a realistic guess. It eased my panic. Willow was my best friend and she often stopped by our barracks unannounced. She was my better half in so many ways. She covered for me when I opened my mouth too often. She provided encouraging words to help me through my struggles. She kept me in line but she never judged me for being different even though my differences sometimes put me in danger.
              My mother loved Willow so much that she considered her to be a second daughter. Sometimes I secretly thought she would have preferred Willow to have been her real daughter instead of me but I never let it bother me. Sometimes I wished that were true, too. I loved my mother very much but I knew raising me wasn't easy for her. Mom was delicate, like a butterfly. Fear controlled every choice she made and with me being naturally inquisitive, she was scared all the time. Grandpa Logan said it was because her own mom, my grandmother, died when Mom was only fourteen. Realizing Grandpa forgot his lunch, my grandmother decided to bring it to his work site for him despite knowing that her presence there was forbidden by Doctrine. The ceiling of the older passageway that Grandpa was helping seal off caved in. My grandmother was not wearing a helmet and a large rock crushed her skull.

              Mom doesn't know I know this, but Grandpa told me she had been convinced that the rock story was a ruse. She thought the government had secretly sent my grandmother to the transitional containers for breaking Doctrine. Even though Grandpa never actually admitted it out loud to me, I got the impression he suspected it too. After all, he didn't actually
see
the accident. A flatfoot approached him and delivered the news. If he thought the story of her death was a ruse, maybe thats what he meant when he told me “one day you’re gonna find out things aren’t always as they seem.” Thinking about it now sent a cold chill up my spine so I tried to force my attention back on the present. My mom's expression had relaxed and that made the worry-lines across her cheeks disappear. I assumed I was probably right. I shifted my weight excitedly to the balls of my feet and walked past her only to see Willow sitting on our couch. Willow was also my better half in a physical way. My skin was ridiculously fair but hers was almost olive, like what I would imagine a “tan” would look like on someone. What a strange concept, that being out in the sunlight used to actually change the shade of our skin! Her jet black hair was so long that it went down to the small of her back, and so thick that it literally shined. When she moved, it moved with her like the millions of strands were one cohesive entity. I considered my hair to be my best feature, but Willow's was still far superior to my own. Her lips were full and pouty, her intense eyes were dark brown and uniquely shaped like almonds and her lashes were naturally long and elegantly defined. Her figure was full and curvy, causing all of the boys to become puddles at her feet. Compared to her, I looked and felt like a mouse. My physique was a whisper while hers was a roar.
              Willow immediately rose and faced me. Her arms curled around me in a tight hug but this one was much less suffocating than my mother's. Willow's hug was one of pure excitement. I did not share her enthusiasm but it felt reassuring nonetheless.