The Outcast Ones (3 page)

“E523 against E518.”

It’s the girl with the pigmentation under her left eye, the one who scowled at me so hard at the last test. She lost there, so her ambition to beat me now will be even greater. I test my laser pointer and a green beam shoots across the battleground. It can start.

We take our positions and the start signal sounds. But unlike the first battle, neither of us attacks straight away. We circle, both wait for a reaction, but nothing happens. Her light-blue eyes latch onto mine. Not only our appearance seems identical, but our movements too, like a mirror image. Do I really look just like her? Maybe I even have a spot of pigmentation.

The minutes go by without even one laser beam being fired.

Unlike the other battles, the computer voice sounds again and announces: “Five minutes without the use of weapons. You have two minutes until you are disqualified. Defend yourselves!”

This has never happened before. If neither of us attacks, neither will have any points.
Defend yourselves!
What should I defend myself against when no one is attacking me? Why should I attack her when she’s not doing anything to me? She’s only a girl like me. If she was a troublemaker, it would be easier for me to shoot her, but there is no reason. I know it’s only a simulation, but I can’t make myself fire the laser. She must be having similar issues, because there is no red shot either.

For a moment I stop looking at her and my gaze swings to the digital display: 6:04 minutes.

She stares at me. She must have seen how careless I am for these seconds, and yet she does not fire.

These points will decide my future.
Attack me!
  I beg silently with my eyes, but she does not react. 6:43 minutes. Only 17 seconds more and we will both be disqualified. This is against the rules. I can forget any career beginning with C or B or even the A of the Legion commanders. Forget it forever. 6:50 minutes. My hands flinch. The loudspeaker is now announcing the seconds: “51, 52, 53...” What should I do? Why won’t she attack me? “54, 55, 56...”

E523 drops her defensive posture and stands opposite me with tight shoulders. Both her hands sink to her sides. For her, the fight is over. “57, 58, 59...” There is a gentle smile on her lips.

I shoot.

My green beam hits her square on the breast. Her face broadens, bewildered. Gone is the friendly smile. Anger shoots from her eyes.

I won. The fight is over and I won all the points. Why can’t I be happy? Why do I feel like I lost?

We go back to our places and she watches me from the other side of the arena. I drop my gaze.

- -

O
ur eyes are fixed on the platform. Sweat beads on my forehead and it’s hard to breathe.

This is the deciding moment.

This is the result of my seven years of endured education.

This is my future.

A330 steps forward. “Phase 6 is complete,” he announces solemnly. As expected, we applaud. Our hands strike together and produce loud clapping that echoes from the walls and is increased by the empty seating. It’s like an earthquake. My stomach complains loudly. It is time for the next nutrition unit.

“At this point I would like to point out to you again very clearly that there cannot be any errors in the system. In a moment I will read out your assignments. Some of you may be surprised if you expected a different result. This is because the system knows you better than you know yourself. People change over the course of their lives and the programmes take that into account. There are no wrong decisions and any task for the Legion is just as important as another.”

He falls silent and rests his hand on his right ear. Now he is receiving our assignments digitally. All the Legion commanders wear a chip in their right ear, connecting them directly with the system and also with each other, so they can communicate without having to stand beside another commander.

“E501. In the name of the Legion I designate you B501. From tomorrow you will receive a green suit and your assigned area will be in the laboratories of the safety zone. Be there punctually at 0730 hours.”

Impressive! Not many make it directly into such a high group. My heart begins to beat hard. I want to be in Group B too. Maybe not necessarily in the laboratories, but rather in the sickbay.

In our world there are no more sicknesses in the original sense. The safety zone keeps us safe, like its name says. There are no bacteria, no viruses or other germs. On the other hand, there are more mental illnesses. But they can all be healed so that the person can work again.

E502, E503, E504, E505, E506, E507, E508, E509, E510, E511, E512, E513, E514...

“E515. In the name of the Legion I designate you C515. From tomorrow you will receive a blue suit and your assigned area will be in the training rooms, to prepare for the dangers outside the safety zone. Be there punctually at 0730 hours.”

Gulp. He is a guard. One of the only ones allowed to leave the safety zone. But no one fights over these roles, because it’s very dangerous and can only be done with special protective suits. Out there is chaos. There is no life, only death and decay. Everything outside the zone is contaminated with radiation. No living being could survive out there for longer than five minutes. Even within five minutes, the radiation would cause irreparable damage, causing death within four weeks. I really don’t envy him his assignment.

E516, E517...My heart rate climbs.

“E518. In the name of the Legion I designate you D518. From tomorrow you will receive a brown suit and your assigned area will be in nutrition distribution. Be there punctually at 0630 hours.”

No! It can’t be true. The lowest group? That’s not fair! It’s impossible for my results to be so low. I shake my head, bewildered. No one notices. A330 continues, unswerving in his task.

E519, E520, E521, E522...

“E523. In the name of the Legion I designate you D523. From tomorrow you will receive a brown suit and your assigned area will be in nutrition distribution. Be there punctually at 0630 hours.”

It can’t be! I was better than her in at least two tests. We can’t possibly be in the same group. Even during my teens I was always one of the best in educational training. I had some of the best interim results of anyone. When I was a small child, the Legion commander told me I had a big future. I’m sure she didn’t mean a future in nutrition distribution. The system makes no mistakes, but the result can’t be right. I don’t understand. Maybe there was a crash, and someone’s data was swapped with mine...

E596, E597, E598, E599...

All the assignments have been announced. The Legion commanders are already leaving, and the others are flowing towards the arena’s exits.
Stop!

I step forward and clear my throat. I call out with a loud voice. “I have a question!”

Everything goes quiet. Every movement turns to stone. The Legion commanders turn on their heels. Their eyes bore into me like sharp needles. My throat goes dry.

“Request permitted,” says A470, looking down at me, a frown twisting her face. “What is your question, D518?”

I cough. Dammit, what’s going on with my throat? It’s as if a lump is sitting in my windpipe, blocking off the air. My eyes feel unusually damp.

“Is it possible that my number was assigned wrong? Maybe there was—”

The woman interrupts me energetically. “D518, before your performance test and also just now we said loud and clear that errors of any kind are completely impossible. Does that answer your question?”

My cheeks grow hot. Everyone is staring at me. Now I’m standing here as if I’m totally dim-witted. Everyone will think it’s no wonder I ended up in nutrition distribution, if I can’t even listen.

But it’s not like that at all! The discomfort inside me transforms into anger. The Legion commanders are deliberately letting me look like an idiot.

“No,” I say clearly. “How can it be that I finished better in some tests than others, and still get a worse group?”

“D518, there are no better or worse groups. Every task in the safety zone is equally important. We are all the same.”

Unwilling, I shake my head. My eye slides over to D523. She juts her chin out at me, as if to say,
Go on, make my day. Say you were better than me.

When I don’t answer, A470 continues. “D518, do you think you are better?”

My eyes grow wide with shock and I hurry to say no. “We are all the same.” I call it to memory and repeat it to myself like a proverb.
No one is different. No one is better.

I glance across those present. We are the same like identical twins. There are no visible differences, if you don’t look too closely.

A470 narrows her eyes to slits and leans over the railing. “D518, if you are not happy with your assignment, maybe we should transfer you to G518.”

No, no, no! My breathing becomes uncontrolled.

“Please, no! I wasn’t thinking before I spoke. I’m sorry. Please...I only expected something different. It’s my mistake. Please don’t demote me.”

Group G is the worst that can happen to anyone. They might as well shoot you outright. G designates outcasts. Only people who refuse healing treatment in sickbay are given this designation. They are dangerous to themselves and to the whole Legion, so they are cast out of the safety zone. They die a horrible death.

A470 is merciful and stands up straight again. “Fine. You understand. Now go!” She leaves the platform shoulder to shoulder with the other Legion commanders.

When I turn around, D523 is looking at me thoughtfully. She must despise me. How stupid of me to speak to the Legion commander. Why can’t I just behave like everyone else? Maybe a visit to sickbay wouldn’t be such a bad idea. I just think too much.

Leaving the arena, I meet the gaze of C515, but he looks away immediately. He wants nothing more to do with me. I’d be bad for his reputation. Strangely, this makes me sad. Somehow I liked him more than the others. Maybe because he wasn’t like everyone else.

At 0600 hours precisely I open my eyes. The previous day and my assignment are like a bad idea, almost unreal. I slept as well as ever, because our sleep is controlled. There are small sensors in the beds that measure unrest from things like heart rate or sweat, and if necessary, gas is emitted to sedate us. It is important that our sleep is relaxing, so that we can reach full productivity.

While I wait for my food ration, I look at my blurry mirror image in the metal wall. My eyes shine a soft blue, so pale that they can hardly be seen. Because the wall’s surface is rough, I have never seen my face clearly—only as a blob in beige and pink. There is no smooth surface in the entire safety zone, for our own protection. Still, I would like to know what I look like. I don’t know if my nose is big or small, or if my lips are narrow or full. I can’t recognise anything—I can only get an idea from the appearance of the other personnel. The differences are so minimal that some people don’t even notice them, but I memorise them. I use these tiny differences to identify people. For me they aren’t just letters and numbers, but hands, fingers, ears, mouths, eyes, eyebrows, wrinkles, dimples, pigmentations. The Legion commanders must know it. There must be more people like me, or they wouldn’t have asked about the scar in yesterday’s performance test.

For the first time I wonder if they don’t want anyone to recognise the differences. After all, we all want to be as alike as possible. People who know we are not the same could be a risk. Maybe they see me as a risk and sent me to nutrition distribution for that reason.

“Please remove your nutrition ration for today!” says the loudspeaker just then. I look down and see five cereal cubes, a vitamin tablet and a glass of water.

At 0630 hours the door opens and I begin my first day as D518. The brown stripe on the wall tightens around me and I doubt I will ever grow to like the colour. Surreptitiously, I look at the other inhabitants in their identical brown suits.

Every generation is here, the 500s like me, the 400s and 300s. I even see a few 200s. Only the 100s are gone. Shortly after my birth was their farewell. It must have been a great celebration, because many speak of it even now with excitement. In three more years will be the farewell for the 200s, when they reach their sixtieth year. That is the year when we say goodbye to the safety zone and to the Earth.

Today, the Atrium shows a shower of rain over the wild North Sea. The wind whips against the tearing waves, spraying foam. It is an impressive performance, it sucks me in for several seconds. The sea resists the wind, does not let itself be pressed back, but proves its strength. Quickly I shake my head. Something’s wrong with me. Always these thoughts I shouldn’t be thinking, these thoughts that are wrong. Resistance is never right. Maybe it’s a good thing I was assigned to nutrition distribution—hopefully I won’t have to think much there.

Across the grey hall I approach the big dining hall for communal meals. Those are rare, we only have them on special occasions like farewelling a generation, promotions, or the mating phase. Today is nothing like that.

An older man waits for me at the door, D523 standing beside him. Her lips are strangely drawn, almost like a smile, but it doesn’t look friendly. Her right eyebrow quirks upwards as I introduce myself.

“D518 reporting for duty.”

“D375 welcomes D518,” he answers formally. Then his tight shoulders loosen a bit and he continues in a friendlier tone. “Good to have you here. Come with me and I’ll explain your tasks.”

We move through the big hall towards a double door made of dark grey metal. It slides open by itself. Even from this you can see that our task isn’t exactly one of the important ones. Areas of higher value are locked with security codes. But apparently anyone can walk into nutrition distribution.

Behind the door is a room full of tables and computers, not at all like I imagined it. I expected machines producing cereal cubes—instead I’m standing in front of at least twenty computer desks. Two in the second-last row are still empty, this is where D375 leads us.

“Sit down,” he says, with a wave of his hand. My gaze rests on his eyes a moment longer, they are the same pale blue as everyone’s, but something is different: I look more closely and discover a small green spot in his left iris.