Chapter 1

"Blood tells the story of your life."- Judith Ortiz Cofer

I woke up this morning thinking about the end of the day.  Sitting at my desk now my thoughts are still the same: Matriculation night.

The ceremony would take place later tonight after the Choosing of the new queen.  I could see Sira a few desks over practically bouncing with excitement.  She, unlike the rest of us didn’t have to worry about landing a journeyman position tonight.  After the ceremony Sira would be apprenticed to her mother who was the owner of the biggest cosmetic salon in Central City.  She wasn’t vibrating with nerves like I was, oh no, she was excited about watching the Choosing ceremony after classes were over this afternoon.  She had often teased me with thoughts about being queen until I lashed out in exasperation, “Sira, how would you rule a country if you can’t even manage to keep up your marks in school?  You’re lucky that your mother will hire you for her cosmetic company because you would surely end up as a domestic with marks as low as yours.”

She would sniff at me and retort, “You don’t need high marks to make people look beautiful.  School is a waste of time.  Most of us will never use any of what we have learned after matriculation anyway.”

We would continue in this fashion until I either threw something at her or she got tired of trying to fight my short attention span.

 She caught my eye over the heads of our classmates and mouthed,

Almost over!

I sigh heavily and fight the urge to roll my eyes at her.  Sira is my best friend, but I envy her carefree attitude this particular afternoon.  There is only one journeyman slot open at the Genetic Library and I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything before.  The matriculating Class of 2350 will be assigned internships and jobs based on academic observation and personality recognition programs.  I have done everything I can, including putting myself through the optional (and painful) mental and physical acuity tests, to bump my chances of being selected as the new (and best ever I might add) Level 1 Journeyman of the Genetic Library.  It is the most prestigious slot in Central City and the only one that will allow me the freedom to pursue my interest in the reintroduction of extinct species. 

I shook my thoughts free and stared up at the sensescreen while tried to pay attention to the last Digichat of my academic career.  The professor was droning on about the responsibilities we all would have as official members of society starting tomorrow morning.  It would hold more meaning if we hadn’t been hearing the same ideas almost every day for the past week.  Students all across ProRo get the same lessons everyday from the same instructor according to age group. 

The first we learn as entry level students is the history of Proto Rodinia : how a giant meteor came to close to Earth somewhere around the year 2028 and got caught in our planetary orbit.  The hunk of rock and ice established an orbital pattern that caused devastating earthquakes, tsunamis, volcanoes, and tidal shifts.  2^nd year students then get the mundane pleasure of learning about the domes; the lifesaving capsules that protect human life from total destruction.  Fascinating.  The only thing that I really remember from that year besides the virtual dome tour was a picture the 2^nd year lecturer showed the class of an animal called a bobcat.  It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen.  It was lean and strong with sharp, pointed ears, a soft-looking speckled coat and golden eyes that seemed to stare out from the screen right through me.  She meant for it to be an example of things long since extinct from the planet, but I saw it as an opportunity.  If it had been here once, why couldn’t we rejuvenate its DNA from the archives like we had done with the chickens and bovine that we used for food?  That one picture had since fueled my one burning goal; to someday bring back the bobcat so that I could see one for myself.  I have never told anyone about this dream because it would ruin my hard earned reputation as a cold cutthroat girl who doesn’t care what others think.   Couldn’t have that!  Sira is the only one who has been able to penetrate, even slightly, my shell.  Her enthusiasm and somewhat shallow nature are disarming.  

The professor clapped his hands calling my attention back from my 2^nd year to the present.  He cleared his throat and let a mournful look pass across his watery features.

“I want to take a moment to say what a pleasure it has been to instruct all of you this year.  I may not know all of your names, but judging from your final scores most of you will have very promising careers in your chosen fields.  I wish you luck.  Please make haste to your assigned sections for the Choosing at this time.”

This time I did roll my eyes.  He had never spoken one word directly to any of his students.  His job was to spew out information for us to regurgitate on electronic exams later on.  He didn’t care what happened to any of us, not really.  He had no reason to.

With one last simpering smile the sensescreen snapped black and we were dismissed.  I hurried towards the door, hoping to escape Sira and her impending gush session for a few minutes.  I went to get my pack from my cubicle and wiped the dust from it with my sleeve to clear it for the next 12^th year who would start using it tomorrow when the new class would begin their last year.

I could see Sira catching up to me through the throng of other students who were hugging and saying their goodbyes.  After the ceremony tonight I wouldn’t see many of them ever again.  Most would be assigned to different domes outside of Central City.   I waved at Sira and called,

“See you in the Southern Square in a few minutes,” and left without giving her a chance to reply.  I wanted a moment to calm my flaring nerves.  I had almost eight hours before the ceremony, but my stomach was already knotted in anticipation.  My thoughts jumble in my head as I try not to think about what would happen if I did not get my first choice.  If I were passed over for the Genetic Library I might end doing something tedious like transcribing documents from one computer language to another for record storage or I might be landed with something truly horrifying: marriage.   Attractive girls who were not chosen for jobs became domestics such as wives of powerful figures, single mothers to pre-fertilized children, or, in the worst cases, servants.  I know I’m not ugly, but I would not call myself beautiful.  I have been told that my long red-brown hair and grayish green eyes are a pleasing combination, but my looks have never been a point of pride for me the way they are for Sira. 

I hear the chirps of illusion birds and feel the simulated breeze and stop.  I have walked to the south square without really paying attention. 

 I would meet Sira here in a few minutes to walk to our assigned section together.  All eligible women and girls are assigned a place to gather to witness the Choosing.  That way when a queen is chosen the cameras can capture her happy, and sometimes stunned, reaction for the people of ProRo to see. 

Two or three deep breaths later I feel calmer and on control again.   The beauty of the south square will not be denied.  I look up at the blue sky visible behind the blurry geometric dome plates and feel small and relaxed.  I am startled out of newly achieved calm by a heavy hand clapping down on my shoulder. I couldn’t really help what happened next.  I reached up and got a good grip on two of the finger and twisted them roughly and bending them backwards.  I don’t like to be touched.  I spin around to see a bald man in an ankle length silver garment shoving paper pamphlets in my face.  A Lunartic.

“Turn away from the things of this world and follow the path of the moon!” He cries in a high pitched wail.  “We must all die to make way for new life!”

I let go of his hand and shove him away roughly.  The Artemists, or “Lunartics” as people like to call them, are members of a doomsday cult that believes mankind should have died along with most of the other life on the earth.  It is the way of evolution so they say.  He regains his balance and starts towards me again clutching his bruised fingers.  Relentless little dimwit.  I look him square in the eye and bark,

 “Back off!  I don’t care about your death wish.  Leave me alone or I’ll set the Guard on you.” 

I’m looking through the crowd for the distinctive bright red of the Guards’ uniform when Sira runs up and takes my hand dragging me away from the Lunartic and his angry words drenched with spraying spit. 

“Why do you let them get to you?” She asks her mouth set in a thin line, “Just ignore them and they will go away.”

“I think we both know that’s not true,“ I argue, “And besides, he got in my face.”

She looked over her shoulder at me as we swept towards our section building.

“That’s no excuse.  Just because you know how to hurt people doesn’t mean you should.”

She was right and I knew it.  My mother had often said the same thing.  She was a former city guard who had been teaching me how to fight since I was ten years old.

“The city can be dangerous,” she had said when we started, “I just want you to be safe.”

I felt safer because of the training, but never missed an opportunity to use it…sometimes unwisely.  Mother would not have approved of my reckless behavior. 

Before I could start to really feel guilty we arrived at our assigned building and filed in behind the other girls already in line.  Sira still held my hand, but now I think it was out of excitement.  There was a massive sensescreen at the front of the large hall.  One by one Sira and I followed the other girls up to it to press our palms against the glass corner.  If were not counted as present we could be detained and punished. 

I put my hand on the screen right behind Sira and we wormed out way to an open spot to wait.  The sensescreen was showing scenes from the opening ceremony.  The Parliament members would be in rare form today.  Laughing and smiling to show the people of ProRo how lucky we are to have such wise and caring leaders.

 The current ruler, Queen Lessa appeared behind the form of Parliament President Ekthros, her lips set in a weary smile.  She has served her allotted 40 years and would be heading to Dome 1 to retire in one of the high class villages after the Choosing.  Only people over 50 were allowed to retire to Dome 1 after having worked a lifetime in a trade.  The queen raised her hand in greeting.  She has large streaks of grey in her brown hair and creases in the corners of her eyes.  Lessa was already in her early twenties when she was Chosen and was now in her early 60s.  The selected queen rules for most of her lifetime, but the 40 years limit ensures that she doesn’t rot away on the throne. 

Sira let go of my hand to clap her own as President Ekthros raises his hands for silence.   His weathered face fills the screen.  I can count the greasy pores on his hooked nose from where I’m standing near the back.  No one should have to see his ugly face that close up.  Undaunted,  Sira’s face is lit up with pink excitement. 

“I hope it’s someone in this room,” she says, “I would love to see their reaction in person.”

“That would be great.” I return, trying to catch her enthusiasm.

  It’s hard not to get caught up in the moment.  This will most likely be the only Choosing Ceremony to occur in our lifetime.  Ekthros moves toward the Choosing Computer and his deep booming voice can be heard in stereo throughout the hall. 

“Welcome people of Proto Rodinia to the 13^th Choosing Ceremony.  I am sure that most of you know the process behind the selection of the queen, however, for those of you who do not let me enlighten you.  The computer you see behind me takes into account the details of each and every young woman across our country every 40 years.  The computer has been given information on every eligible young lady throughout all of the Domes.  It takes into account genetics, personality, intelligence, and leadership qualities when making its decision and always provides us with the perfect candidate.  The computer is never wrong.”

He takes a moment to look directly into the camera for emphasis.  Then with a dramatic flourish he touches several keys on the chrome surface of the angular machine.  It is so quiet in the hall that we can hear the clicks and whirs the computer makes as it chooses the girl or woman who will rule for the next 40 years.  A thin rectangle of purple plastic appears in a slot at the top right corner of the machine and President Ekthros reaches up to retrieve it. 

He squints at the name written on the card and with a smile he spreads his arms wide,

“Citizens your queen has been chosen!”

He pauses for effect.

“Oh come on already,” I mutter under my breath. 

Ekthros raises the card above his head and calls out with an air of showmanship, “All hail the 13^th Queen of Proto Rodinia…her Majesty Marniah of our own Central City!”

Author's Note

First draft, rough