Chapter One

Penny Azul

Last Name: Miller

Date of Birth: September 22, 3204

Date of Admittance: September 24, 3209

Identification Number: 1274882

Cell: 1A-5

 

 

  I stepped through the familiar door once again, just like I had been doing for ten years. The only furniture in the room was a desk, a chair, and a lamp, just like always. On the desk were a pencil and a piece of paper, clean and untouched. I sat down in the chair and picked up the pencil, not knowing that day, everything would be changed before I even ate lunch.

I took a deep breath, shut my eyes, and tried to decide which Memory to draw. They all flashed through my mind, but none of them were the one I wanted. I was looking for something special, something that I was finally ready to release.

I must have taken too long to find it, because the long sticks, similar to cattle prods, came through the wall and shocked me, leaving yet another scar on each arm. I closed my eyes once again, put the pencil to the paper, and began.

First, there’s the tree, with special detail going into each branch and each ornament. I moved to the fireplace, the flames that seemed to be writhing in pain, and the stockings hung on the mantle. Children were on the floor, unwrapping presents. Wrapping paper, bows, and ribbons littered the floor.

The smiles on each face, coming from the joy of both giving and receiving gifts. The dark hair of one child, the light hair of the other. A door is opened now, with a dark figure standing there. Short, tight, dark curls make up his hair; big lips and a wide nose decorate his face. His skin is dark, unlike anyone the people in the New World have ever seen.

Grandparents in the corner, with very light hair. Thin, wire-rim glasses with thick lenses masked their eyes while their hands were clasped in between their bodies.

The parents sit on the floor by the couch, watching as their little darlings enjoy another Christmas and their friends come by to visit. A tabby cat sprawled in its spot by the fireplace, oblivious to all that went on around him.

My hand came to a sudden stop, and that’s how I knew I was done. The black and white picture sat on the table top, waiting to be colored. I blinked, and another one of my abilities kicked in. As Azuli, we were given the ability to color a picture with the blink of an eye, so that a simple, black and white picture was suddenly vibrant and vivid, something that seemed to move and sway with color.

I looked at the clock before standing. Fifteen seconds had passed since I’d first started drawing, which disappointed me. I knew from experience that I could draw a Memory in under nine seconds on a lousy day. I knew that when it took as long as fifteen seconds, something bad was going to happen that day. It was a sign that we’d all learned to recognize over the years.

We Azuli have special abilities outside of the Memories. Some of us even see glimpses into the future, although they say it’s only a day or two ahead of the present. Also, even when we aren’t drawing the Memories, we are extremely fast at art. I could draw a beautiful, lifelike rose in twenty seconds, whereas it might take someone else twenty minutes to draw the same thing.

We Azuli also have wisdom and knowledge that other people don’t have, because of the Memories. Although by sketching the memories, we are unable to go back and view them again, they don’t completely disappear. There’s always something left behind. A once-famous quote, an emotion or feeling, or a piece of information only accessible by the holder of that Memory.

But anyway, back to my story. The speed is what I was talking about. When we’re drawing normal things, we are incredibly fast. But when we’re drawing the Memories, we get much, much faster. A slow day was a way of our bodies telling us to be careful, because something exciting was bound to happen.

When I got back to the cell, I plopped on my bed, wondering if I should fake some kind of illness. I quickly discarded that idea, though. I knew that a trip to Floor Six, where the guards and doctors were, would be unpleasant, especially if they found out the illness was faked.

It didn’t take long for Macy to walk in, exhausted from the drawing. One thing that results from our daily duties is exhaustion. Just viewing a Memory for a moment was draining, and holding it for several seconds while we draw it is even more tiring.

“How was your morning?” I asked cheerfully as she collapsed into her bed. I was really wondering if she’d been slow too, so I’d know if things would definitely happen, or if it was just an off day for me.

“Well, I was tired before I even got to the DarkRoom because I was assigned to D-11 today.” I winced, knowing how hard it must have been for her to walk all that way. D-11 was the DarkRoom farthest from our cell, and for people as old as Macy, I knew it was tough. Especially after the energy drainage that came with the drawings.

“After finding out where to go, it got worse.” I sat up straight, looking into her blue, experienced eyes, knowing exactly what was coming next.

“How long?” I asked, not taking my eyes off her.

“Twenty,” was all she said, all she had to say. I collapsed again, not wanting to move for the rest of the day. My idea of staying in the cell all day, undisturbed by anyone, was quickly squashed like a bug when I heard my brother’s voice in the hallway. 

“Seventeen seconds,” I heard, and then his body appeared in my doorway. “Can you believe that? My worst time has been fourteen. How could you take seventeen seconds to draw a Memory?”

I sat up as he walked in and sat on my bed in the spot where my feet had been seconds before. Since I’d arrived at the Academy, he’d grown several feet, and he filled out his jumpsuit better. His dark hair was now a little lighter, and I’d noticed a twitch in his nose. It was only noticeable when he was upset, just like he was then. His legs didn’t come out of the bottom of the jumpsuit anymore, and instead of being the stringy kid people avoided, he was now pretty popular amongst the Azuli on our floor. A couple seconds after he had come through the doorway, Carl appeared, mumbling under his breath.

Carl had entered our small circle of friends when I was nine. He had transferred from Floor Five, and was put in the cell with my brother because of their age. He had red hair, and a few freckles running across his nose. His eyelashes were long, but they were so light that you had to look closely to see them. He had sort of a goofy look to him, like someone who could have once been a clown. He was about as tall as Jack, but his jumpsuit was a little tighter around the shoulders and chest than Jack’s was. His nose was a little crooked, and his ears were huge. His eyes were big, and his lips were normal-sized. He had a dimple on his right cheek that showed up even when he wasn’t smiling. He’d became like another brother to me, and we were almost always bickering.

“Hey, Carl,” I said. “It’s been a couple days since I’ve seen you. What have you been up to?” Even after knowing me for six years, Carl had never caught on when I’d try to steer the conversation away from something awkward or scary, like how long it had taken us all to draw the Memories.

“’What’s been going on?’ That’s what you wanted to know? Penny, if you haven’t noticed already, we have a crisis on our hands. Something very, very bad is going to happen today. Bad with a capital B. As in B-A-D!” he practically yelled. Even for Carl, I thought he was being a little too dramatic. And he could be very dramatic.

Once, he sat in a DarkRoom for hours, not drawing anything, just sitting. A line had formed, as other Azuli were scheduled in that DarkRoom as well. He wouldn’t draw a Memory, though, until they brought him a new pencil.

“It was too dull,” he told me later. “You can’t properly draw a Memory without a properly sharpened pencil. I don’t see why they took so long to bring one to me. If it had been Michelangelo, they would have given him a new pencil right away.” I thought about reminding him that he wasn’t Michelangelo, but decided against it, knowing that it would only have brought on another rant.

Another time, in the cafeteria, he’d simply stayed in line, not moving, until the cooks prepared something more appetizing for him to eat. The food that day had been especially gross. They claimed that it was shepherd’s pie, but the texture, the color, and the way that it fell from the serving spoon to the tray suggested otherwise. To me, it looked like a new recipe, too empty of nutrients, or any unharmful substances to feed to normal people.

He stood by the counters, not saying anything, only having a stare-down  with the cooks, until the Vipero announced that lunch time was over.

A high-pitched, rather unmanly squeal brings my attention back to the cell. Macy, old and frail as she is, has Carl pinned up against the wall. “Carl, that’s no way to speak to a young lady, and you know that! Have a little respect and manners once in a while. We may be locked up in this God-awful place, but that is not an excuse for disrespect. If you aren’t going to follow that rule, then you aren’t welcome here anymore,” she told him, and then turned around, found her book, and sat on her bed to read.

Carl blushed and muttered an apology, and then sat on the ground and traced an invisible pattern with his finger on the floor. He didn’t stay down there long, though, because two Vipero paid a visit to my room.

They both wore their black uniforms, which I believed were personally tailored, instead of having sizes small, medium, and large, like the jumpsuits. One of them had a clipboard. He was taller than the other man and looked more composed. His hair was combed neatly to the side, and he had no stubble on his chin or cheeks. He had a small mustache on his upper lip that didn’t quite match his hair in color. His knuckles on his left had seemed swollen, and I could see small cuts on them, leading me to believe that he’s been in a fight in the recent past. His nose was large and pointy, and his lips were big, almost as if they belonged to a woman instead of a man.

The man without the clipboard was shorter, with a bit of fat that was visible through his custom uniform. His hair was messy and he had quite a bit of stubble. He had a small bruise on his right cheek that looked to be several days old. His shirt was un-tucked on one side, and his pants seemed to be riding a little low. He had a pug nose and green eyes, shadowed by his enormous eyebrows.

“Penny Azul?” one said, glancing around the room. I sighed when he used the last name given to all Azuli, instead of my real last name, but I stood up anyway.

“Right here,” I said. “Penny Azul. Last name: Miller. Date of birth: September 22, 3204. Date of admittance: September 24, 3209. Identification number: 1274882. Cell 1A-5.”

“Thank you. Please stand over there with Vipero 17820.” The Vipero, just like us, had identification numbers. The difference was that we Azuli only used our numbers when introducing ourselves to the Vipero or a doctor, while the Vipero never used each other’s names, at least not in front of us. It often made me roll my eyes, but this time, I was a little too scared to bother with that.

“And,” he started again, “we also need two others. The neighbors said that they’d be here.” He looked at Carl and Jack. “Are you Carl Azul and Jack Azul?” They stood up and recited their information in monotonous voices, and we were led out of the cell and through the halls.

As soon as we stepped out, we took a right, then a left. There, standing in front of us in between rooms B2 and B3, was a woman pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair was a small boy, who I knew was five years old. It had been a while since I’d seen one of the Specials, or the kids who were mentally or physically handicapped.

In an effort to create a society where there were no differences, no opportunities to make fun of someone, or anything that makes things difficult in any way, the dictator had ordered the Vipero to monitor the babies born with any major problems, either physically or mentally. The children were then brought to the Azuli Academy to be given “special care,” as the propaganda put it. I didn’t know how many people outside the Academy knew what was really going on, but I guessed that since no one hesitated as they gave up their children, most people were in the dark.

I remember a time, before I came to the Azuli Academy, that a Special had been taken from my neighborhood. I was four, and had watched my brother be taken a year earlier. This, though, was different.

With Jack’s departure, there had been tears and group hugs. The parents of this boy, though, seemed happy to see the Vipero take their son away to a place where they would never get to visit him.

They waved twice, and then turned their backs on their terrified son and went into the house. I didn’t really understand why they took him. I played with him, and hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the boy. He was a little slow to understand certain things, and he talked a little funny, but I didn’t consider that a reason to tear him from his family.

I wanted to run to him, try to convince the Vipero that it was all a mistake. My mother stopped me, though. She explained that they were going to fix him.

“They will take him to the Academy, and make him better. They’re going to try to find a cure for him, so he’ll be smart.” She smiled hopefully. “If it works, they’ll bring him back.”

“What happens if they don’t fix him?” I asked. I was scared for my friend. I became even more scared when my mother didn’t answer my question.

When I’d come to the Academy, I asked around, but no one knew the boy. When I mentioned that he was a Special, they just shook their heads and told me to forget about him. “He’s long gone,” they said.

The Specials were kept for six months up on the sixth floor. The doctors and scientists used them for numerous experiments, trying to find a way to cure the various disorders. I’d been at the Academy ten years, and still hadn’t heard of a successful case. After six months of weekly appointments, the Specials were exterminated. Most of the time, by that point, their limbs were so twisted and misshapen, it must have been a relief to die.

Less than a year after I came to the Academy, I found out how the doctors “fix” the Specials.

I was on Level 6, getting my sore throat looked at, when I heard screaming down the hall. It sounded like a human in immense pain, too great to describe. I asked the doctor about it, and he shrugged.

“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. It’s not a person that they’re working with. It’s something that doesn’t deserve mercy or peace.” I instantly thought of the Jews in WWII, who hadn’t been considered human either.

“Why?” I asked. He just frowned and told me again not to worry about it. Another scream traveled through the open door. “Whatever it is, it sure sounds human,” I mumbled.

The doctor grabbed my arm in a vise grip. “What’s going on in there is none of your business. You’ll find out soon enough, so stop asking questions before you’re ready to know the answer. For now, mind your own business and forget about what you heard today.”

I couldn’t, thought. Screams of torture is a sound that you can never forget. I had nightmares every night for months about the Specials. They screamed and writhed in pain because of what was done to them. And then, they did the same thing to me.

But eventually the nightmares stopped, only coming back when I saw a Special, just like the one that I saw that day.

Of course, while Carl, Jack, and I gaped at the boy, the guards didn’t even blink an eye at the sight. We kept walking until we were standing in front of room C5, one of the rooms set aside for punishment. 

Instead of being DarkRooms, B5, C5, and D5 were all for punishment, and were split up into seven smaller rooms each. This meant that twenty-one Azuli could be punished at once on each floor. Most of the time, they were empty of anyone but the cleaning staff.

Apparently, we were about to change that, and we didn’t even know what we’d done wrong. I was the first to be dropped off in Section A. There was a small table with two chairs, and everything else was bare. I was surprised to see that in one of the chairs, there was an old man shuffling through some papers. He looked strangely familiar, and after a few minutes, I realized that he was the same man that I’d met on the day I’d been informed of my history ten years before.

Before, you might have doubted that having a slow day meant having a bad day. If, even after the visit from the Vipero, you still doubt it, then what you’ll read next will kick any doubt out of your head and into some place that’s far, far away.

“Please sit down, Miss Azul,” he said, not even looking up from his papers.

“Actually, Mr. Man, my last name’s Miller,” I said before taking a seat. He made a few notes before he said anything to me.

“That almost sounded like disrespect, Miss… uh, Miller.” I rolled my eyes at him and he made another note. “As does that.”

“I’m sorry, sir. I just thought that since you referred to me as the general group to which I belong, you wanted me to do the same to you. Maybe I wasn’t specific enough? How’s ‘Mr. Scumbag?’” I almost laughed when he actually gasped, because I didn’t think he’d really be that offended. I knew that my comebacks were horrible, but apparently they worked.

“Now that we’ve covered the names,” I said, “I have a question for you, Mr. Scumbag.” I pause for a moment. “Or is it doctor? Dr. Scumbag. Hmm… No, I think mister will do just fine. Mr. Scumbag, what am I here for?” Once again, I knew that the insults I was shooting out were horrible and childish, but I couldn’t help myself.

In hindsight, I probably should have at least tried a little harder to help myself. I should have kept quiet and been respectful. However, his reactions were giving me too much satisfaction.

“You are here because you have been selected for a cell transfer.” I stared at him, not believing for a second. I knew that to be considered for a cell transfer, there had to be problems between an Azulate and their roommate or neighbors. “Miss Miller, you have been chosen for something very special, something that we’ve never tried before. You should be honored to have even been considered for this, let alone chosen.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

“Honored? You mean sort of like how I was supposed to feel honored to be an Azulate? How it made me so special? How the only thing it did was get me a one-way ticket to prison since the age of five? That kind of honored?” I was furious, and I didn’t want to hear another word. At the same time, I was curious as to what would happen to me. He didn’t answer my question, but instead he continued with what he’d been saying.

“Miss Miller, you were chosen for an experiment dealing with Azuli breeding. Before you say anything, I want you to know that we can force you to do this, and we will if it comes to that. You have two days to decide if you’ll do this the easy or hard way.” With those words as his conclusion, he walked out the door and left me alone with my thoughts.

It took a second for things to get settled in my head. The word “breeding” kept bouncing around in my brain, and it was all I could think about after he was gone. Instantly, I thought of all the times in the Memories when human slaves had been bred.

I didn’t know much about the birds and bees, or the reproductive process, or however you choose to say it. But I did know that it was something to be shared with someone you love. Not something that’s done for a science experiment. Then it fully sunk in, making me shiver. I was to be bred, like a horse or a cow. Like a slave. 

I closed my eyes and I could see a Memory of a slave in America.

He’s big, strong, and looks as tough as nails. He’s chopping wood in the hot sun, and you can see his muscles rippling under his skin. His back gleams with sweat.

A white man walks up to him, followed by a black female. She’s sturdy, with wide shoulders and strong muscles. The white man explains that he will be breeding the man with the new woman.

“But, Suh, two weeks ago… two weeks ago you gave me permission to marry my Abby. It’s to be done this Sunday afternoon.”

The white man only laughs. “I guess I did say that, didn’t I? Well, it doesn’t matter anymore. I just bought this young woman yesterday, with you in mind. Oh, can you imagine the strength that your children will possess?” He walks off them, leaving the two slaves to get better acquainted with each other.

The Memory focuses on her for a moment. She is very young, maybe fifteen or sixteen. “Just like me,” I mumbled to myself. I opened my eyes, still not quite believing the news. 

I stumbled out the door, but I couldn’t go any further than a few feet. My knees started shaking, and they collapsed under my weight. I got back up so I wasn’t a heap on the floor, and I leaned my back against the wall and started taking deep breaths. After a couple seconds, I slid down the wall so I was sitting with my back to the wall and my knees up. 

It wasn’t long before I heard the click of another door, and Jack came out of Section D. He walked over and sat next to me, but neither of us offered a word to the other. I rested my head on his shoulder as a tear slid down my cheek.

“They can’t do this,” he stated, as if it were a simple thing. “They shouldn’t be allowed to do this. At the very least, they could get volunteers. Why are they doing this?” I sensed that he was on the verge of a break down, and I knew that I had to do something.   He’d never cried in front of me, and I knew that as the older brother, he wanted to keep it that way. He wanted to stay strong for me, even if it seemed impossible.

“Jack.” I grabbed his hand and squeezed it, letting him know that I was right there next to him. “They keep us locked in here for our entire lives, and then kill us as soon as we reach 75. They poke us with cattle prods. They only allow us to bathe once a week. If they can do that to us, they can do anything they want. We have no choice in the matter. We’ve always been treated like livestock. This is just the next step.” We heard another door, and Carl came out and sat next to me. It was silent in the hall again, and I turned to him.

I was about to say something, but as soon as I tried to look at him, he looked away. I thought it was strange, because Carl was one of the people that always make eye contact. Instantly, I knew that he had been told more than Jack and I had been, and I didn’t like it.

“Carl, what’s wrong? I mean, I know what’s wrong. But why won’t you look at me? What did they tell you in there?”

“You’re like a sister to me,” he answered. “I haven’t seen my real sister since she was three, when I came here. You’ve become the sister that I lost. And they still have the guts to do this?” He put his head in his hands, then looked up at the ceiling. Although his eyes looked dry, I knew it was taking a lot of effort to keep them that way.

“Carl. What does being like my brother have to do with this?” I asked. Nothing, not even the news that I’d received earlier, could have prepared me for what came next.

“They didn’t tell you?” he asked, incredulous. I shook my head and he said, “You and I. They already have all the pairs set up and everything. And one of them is me… and you.”

I stared at him, positive that they’d told him the wrong information. When he didn’t say anything else, though, I knew what he was saying had to be true. I didn’t want to think about any of it, so I put my head on Jack’s shoulder and cried.

Reviews

[Ninja'sMuse]

I like it! Just be careful of pulling the reader out of the story, like saying "what you'll read next..." :) Also, there were a ton of physical descriptions, which was good except that it got a little much. The Viperos didn't seem like big characters, so the paragraphs about exactly how they looked didn't seem quite necessary. But it was really good! Also, why did Macy react so violently?