Ration

by Christina J Thompson

  “Did she always talk to you?”

  Amber glanced up at him, opening her mouth to respond, then she paused thoughtfully.

  “Well…no, not always.”

  “When did she start?”

  “Hmmm. I don’t know, actually, I never paid much attention. A few months ago, maybe, sometime around my birthday. Why?”

  Ayn’s face was grim.

  “They’re going to select your application for the resource center,” he told her, his voice hushed.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “What?”

  “They’re going to pick you.”

  She rolled her eyes incredulously.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “Just because I read and a council member is nice to me?”

  “No, because you’re the only one that reads and a council member is vetting you.”

  Amber gave him a confused look, and he sighed.

  “It’s hard to explain,” he began, pacing back and forth. “The resource center is always looking for new stock, and they choose candidates based on who stands out to them.”

  “Stock?”

  “Yes, stock. New genetic material to create new ration strains or researchers. Don’t you know what you were applying for?”

  “They just tell us it’s for placement at the resource center. It’s a chance to get away from here.”

  He stopped pacing and eyed her.

  “You didn’t ask any questions?”

  “No, the thought of leaving the settlement was enough for me. Being selected also means double rations for my family for a decade.”

  “Well, the purpose of the applications is to find people to use in the breeding programs,” Ayn said. “They get a lot of submissions, and they have to narrow them down somehow.”

  “What does reading have to do with that?”

  “It’s the supplements, Amber. Remember what I told you last week, how they’re supposed to make you docile?”

  She nodded.

  “That means people tend to do the same things as everyone else,” he continued. “When everyone in the settlement reads, it’s considered normal. But when only one person reads, it’s considered an anomaly. It’s not just reading, though, it could be anything they discover someone doing that no one else does. Like how you sit out at night to look at the stars, they probably know about that, too. Stuff like that grabs their attention because it means your behavior is outside typical expectations, and it’s either because the supplements aren’t working or because your mind is more active than normal.”

  “Fine, so I’m different,” Amber conceded, crossing her arms. “I still don’t understand how you can be so sure that my application is going to be chosen.”

  “Settlements that don’t read are always taken off of the book rotation,” Ayn told her. “Yours hasn’t been because of you, which means they’re making an exception. They wouldn’t do that unless they have their eye on you.”

  “But I remember other people reading,” she said. “I used to have to wait for weeks to get a new book.”

  “When did that stop?”

  “I don’t know, but it hasn’t been that long. A year or so.”

  “Did something happen around that time?”

  Amber thought back, trying to remember, and she nodded slowly.

  “Everyone’s supplements were increased. Someone came from the resource center with extra doses for the whole settlement.”

  “Right after a bunch of reports were made?”

  The look on her face confirmed it, and Ayn pursed his lips.

  “They must have identified a large group that had developed a tolerance to the previous supplement dose,” he said. “The increase is what made everyone’s behavior change. The council would have noticed it almost immediately, they pay close attention to things like that.”

  Amber scoffed, struggling to accept what he was telling her.

  “This sounds crazy, Ayn, you know that, right? That seems like a really simple way of picking people, it’s too easy.”

  “She didn’t scan your arm.”

  Amber’s face froze.

  “What?”

  “Council Hart—she didn’t scan your arm when you borrowed the book. I’m betting she used to, when did she stop?”

  “About…a year ago.”

  “Around the same time as the dose increase. And when did you put in your first application to the resource center?”

  “I don’t remember for sure,” she answered. “I’ve sent a lot of them. I started filling them out when I turned sixteen, but I had to wait to turn in the first one. The resource center wasn’t even accepting applications from our settlement until…”

  Her voice trailed off as her eyes grew wide, and Ayn stepped closer.

  “Until when?”

  She gulped.

  “About a year ago.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “Council Hart stopped scanning you because you’re going into a different database, a smaller one that’s detailed in written reports instead of being dumped into mass storage like the scans. They’ve been watching you for the past year, keeping track of your information until your applications activated when you turned eighteen.”

  Panic welled up in Amber’s heart.

  “Reports? I’ve been reported?”

  He quickly shook his head.

  “No, that’s different. I think they’re just considering you as a genetic candidate.”

  “But doesn’t me being different make me a bad choice? They want people who are normal, right?”

  “Normal breeds normal, Amber. They want new, that’s why they look for the anomalies.”

  Her face was creased with worry, and the book slid from her lap unnoticed as her thoughts raced.

  “Like people who get reported.”

  “You haven’t been reported,” he reassured her again. “The process is different for reports. They get handled as defective unless the intake assessment proves otherwise, but it’s the opposite for breeding program candidates.”

  Amber swallowed hard. She was almost afraid to ask the question that was burning on her tongue.

  “What exactly does ‘breeding’ mean?”

  “Not what you think it means,” Ayn answered, amused by how relieved she looked. “Everything happens in a lab. There are two things you can be a genetic candidate for: ration strains or research scientists. Selection of candidates is based on qualities that are considered important to the programs, like a higher intellect or certain physical traits, and those qualities are isolated and combined. Like me, for instance. My strain was bred from four different DNA sources, and one of those was a man who weighed over 225 pounds on a regular food allotment. Another part came from a woman whose metabolism was five times slower than what’s considered normal, and the last two parts came from preexisting ration strains.”

  He paused, drawing a breath.

  “Intellectual ability would be considered a benefit for the researcher breeding program. Given your small size, I think that’s what they would be selecting you for. The scientists discovered long ago that relying on their own children to possess high levels of intelligence was too unpredictable, so like everything else, they decided to engineer their replacements to guarantee the results. Their own gene pool is limited, and since intelligence is an inherited trait, they look for people who exhibit higher levels of cognitive function to breed replacement scientists to continue the programs they run.”

  She gave him a blank look, dumbfounded by how easily he rattled off the complex explanation. The level of comprehension he was capable of seemed almost impossible, and she blinked as she tried to make sense of what he had said. Her mind reeled; it was a lot of information, but surprisingly, she was starting to understand.

  “So…so they think I’m smart?”

  Ayn shrugged.

  “They’re going to
check, that’s for sure.”

  “They’re idiots, then,” Amber said, rolling her eyes. “If they really wanted smart people, they’d be using you. You learned all of this stuff just by watching and listening.”

  He chuckled.

  “They would dissect me then kill me the moment they found out. I would be considered defective, not useful.”

  Amber sighed. It was a depressing thought, and her mind shifted to their plans to leave. They still had three weeks left, but the worry in Ayn’s voice was enough to tell her that this new development was going to cause a problem.

  “So what now?” she asked. “How does this affect us?”

  He frowned.

  “They usually send for the candidates within six months of an application becoming active,” he answered. “Your birthday was in August, so it could be any day now.”

  “We need to leave sooner?”

  Ayn nodded.

  “It would be a good idea. I started saving two cakes a day once you said you were coming with me, but this means I’ll have to increase to three. I can’t cut back on my water any more than I already have, though. We need at least another week.”

  “Do you think we have that much time?”

  “I hope so,” he said. “I don’t think we would make it if we left any earlier.”

  “I’ll increase the amount of water I’m saving,” Amber told him. “I can live on half an allotment for that long.”

  He nodded, then he gestured at the book, picking it up as he moved to her side.

  “We should make better time if we bring this with us,” he said, sitting down and opening the cover. He flipped ahead a few pages, stopping at the chapter about navigating, and Amber’s face grew pensive as she gazed down at the star map.

  “How much time will I have?” she asked quietly. “After they notify me, I mean.”

  Ayn sighed heavily.

  “Some people panic once they realize that they’re leaving home, so the resource center doesn’t give much notice. Best case, you’ll have a day.”

  “Then we’ll just leave right after they tell me.”

  “That won’t work, they’ll be keeping a close eye on you once you’re notified.”

  Her heart began to ache; he would have to go without her if that happened.

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll have to run like crazy,” he grinned, but Amber could see the anxiety in his eyes.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to make it?”

  “I hope so,” he answered. “I’ll do my best, anyway. But it won’t happen like that, we’ll go together.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “That’s what I’m going to believe. Everything that’s happened to me since I met you has been impossible, I never would have dared to dream that I would be talking to a keeper right now. But here I am, and here you are.”

  Ayn set the book aside and lifted her face, gently touching his lips to hers.

  “If I couldn’t dream this up, Amber, there’s no way I’m going to try to dream up anything else.”

  She smiled, and his eyes sparkled at the sight.

  “It’s getting late,” he told her, standing up. “We should head back before someone comes looking for you.”

  They climbed out of the grid, and Amber thought about what he had said. She realized that he was right; everything that had happened so far felt impossible, and she couldn’t begin to imagine what was still to come.

  As they walked back home, Ayn’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground. He did his best not to look at her, knowing that his eyes would betray the fear that burned in his heart.

  Seven days. They only had to make it through seven more days.

  †‡†

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-SIX

  With every day that passed, Amber felt herself growing more and more nervous. While each night signaled yet another day without her application being selected, it also meant that the following day held an even greater chance. Ayn seemed confident that they would have enough time, but she had trouble sleeping at the thought of it.

  The morning of the fourth day dawned bright and early, signaling the beginning of another fourteen hours of worry, and Amber awoke to Ayn gently shaking her. She held her breath, straining her ears as she listened to her parents’ voices. Their morning trip to the huts was the only window of time during which the house was guaranteed to be empty, and the moment she heard them leave, she jumped out of bed.

  She waited for Ayn to take his place keeping watch at the door, then she reached under the edge of her mattress to retrieve the portion of food and water she had saved from yesterday’s allotments. She moved to the narrow space between the side of the bed and the wall, quickly kneeling down to scoop back the thin layer of dirt that covered the hole she had dug there. A piece of plastic protected her allotment stores, and she sighed as she lifted it, staring at the small cache for a moment.

  Eleven days’ worth so far. They would be leaving in three days, which meant she would only be a little short of the two weeks’ worth she had initially hoped to save. It still might not be enough based on what Ayn had estimated, but it was better than nothing.

  She had created bags for her water, filling small circles of plastic and knotting them at the top. They had held up so far, and she also had the extra flask she had been given during her illness. She wished their normal flasks would be full, too, but that wouldn’t happen; they were planning to leave at night, before receiving their allotments for the next day.

  Amber moved as fast as she could, tamping the dirt down when she was done and trading places with Ayn so he could add to his own cache. The location he had chosen for his hideaway was the first one she had considered, and as she watched him sweep the dirt back from under the shelf where the sleep clothes were stored, she couldn’t help smiling to herself. It was a strange coincidence, and had she ultimately picked that spot, she would have discovered his food stores when she had first decided to save her own. The course of events that had led up to this moment would have played out much differently; she likely never would have gotten sick if she had known he was saving food, which meant she never would have gotten the aversion dose that made saving her own food possible.

  She knew now that the location he had chosen was also the reason he had always had her clothes ready in the mornings. He had been worried that she would notice the disturbed dirt, and so he had made it a point to keep her away from that spot as much as possible. He was smart, much smarter than anyone she had ever met. She had never so much as thought to suspect anything, but looking back on it, it should have been obvious that he was hiding something.

  “I think they’re coming back,” Amber breathed, cocking her head to listen. She could just barely hear the sound of footsteps approaching.

  Ayn quickly replaced the dirt over the hole, moving to sit as he watched Amber begin portioning out two piles of supplements like always. After getting their water allotment for the day, she would come back home and bury her capsules in the corner of her room, but he had had kept taking his. He had told her that it was because he still needed the compounds that promoted muscle gain, but that was only part of the reason. In his heart, he was still afraid of being discovered, and not having the supplements in his blood if he was caught before he could escape would cause an uproar with the researchers that he was not willing to risk.

  Amber stood to her feet when she finished counting out the supplements, sighing as she grabbed her flask and headed for the door. As always, the next several hours would be spent in silence while they worked, and she hated every minute of it. It almost felt as if the passing seconds were intentionally dragging by, like time itself somehow took some cruel enjoyment from making her wait as long as possible before she could speak to Ayn again.

  The grid still wasn’t producing any salt, and she could tell that her father was terrified despite his efforts to hide it. Richard didn’t say anything wh
en she arrived at the grid, barely even glancing up, and she found herself staring at him in between sorting piles of dirt. The gray streaks in his dark hair shone silver in the sunlight, seeming to highlight the worry that creased his face, and her heart stung with regret. In a few days, her parents would discover her gone, and the brevity of what she was planning to do suddenly hit her.

  She was abandoning them, sacrificing the only family she had ever known for a man she had just met. Ayn was practically a stranger to her, yet she had clung to him as if he was someone she had known forever. The thought stunned her; it sounded insane when put into that context, and she sighed, glancing up for a moment as Ayn passed by.

  Ayn met her gaze, reading her expression, and he frowned when she looked away. He could see the turmoil she was feeling, and he knew she was second-guessing herself. Perhaps inviting her along had been a mistake.

  He quickly shook his head, rejecting the idea. Not asking her to join him would have been the mistake. Still, the risk she was taking was extreme, and he almost felt guilty about it. He was being selfish in a way by wanting her to go along, and he knew full well that her choice could require her life. Leaving her behind—though heartwrenching—would have been the best option for her. Instead, he was tearing her away from her family and everything she had ever known for the sake of spending what could be her last days on earth with him.

  Afternoon finally arrived, followed by the usual announcement that it was time to leave. Amber’s father had stopped making her go home early, and she had brought her book with her in anticipation of giving him her excuse about reading at the grid.

  “Be back before dark,” Richard called to her as he left.

  “I will,” Amber answered, forcing a smile.

  She watched him leave, then turned her attention to Ayn. His head was tilted to the side as he eyed her worriedly, but he couldn’t talk yet. They had to wait until all of the other grids cleared out for the day.

  She glanced away from his questioning gaze, sitting down in the dirt and drawing her knees up to her chin. He filled one of the hauling sacks, preparing it to serve as a distraction in case anyone showed up, then he sat down across from her. She rested her head on her knee, staring at him as she waited for the minutes to pass.