Tier Trilogy: Books 1-3

by Cindy Gunderson

  “Do you think it’s odd that neither of us entered the program to be mentors?” I ask.

  After a few moments, Eric answers, “No. Maybe the people who don’t feel inclined to mentor are those who are more likely to pair and have children. I know that’s why I didn’t feel drawn to it. I knew I wanted kids and felt like there was a high probability that it would happen.”

  “You were that confident, hey?” I tease. Eric grins, gripping my hand in his.

  “I think we’re doing alright,” he says gently, and I squeeze his fingers.

  “Are you saying I can keep Tal in my box?”

  “Maybe just a slightly expanded one. For now,” Eric says, rubbing my shoulders as we stand and find the path that will take us home.

  Approaching our lane, I am taken off guard by the horde of people coming and going from our neighbor’s house. Leaving Eric, I walk forward quickly, my eyes searching for Fay, but I don’t find her familiar face. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen her or Cameron at all lately. They have been our neighbors ever since we settled here. Their children are older, and we are on opposite schedules with our work assignments, so our paths don’t often cross. Still, it’s strange that I haven’t seen anyone puttering around in the flower bed over the last few weeks. What kind of neighbor am I that I didn’t even notice?

  I approach one of the strange men as he exits the house. He is dressed in a crisp blue collared shirt, navy blue tie, and khaki pants. Though he is engaged with something on his display and doesn’t acknowledge me, I tap his shoulder.

  “Excuse me, we live next door and I couldn’t help but wonder what all the fuss is about. Is everything okay?” I ask, smiling apologetically for the interruption.

  “The couple here has been reassigned, that’s all,” he answers curtly.

  “Reassigned?”

  “Yep.”

  “Can I ask what type of reassignment would require re-homing?” I am met with a blank stare. “I have never heard of anyone having to leave their home when changing service assignments,” I try to clarify.

  “Some changes require that. You could ask at your next training meeting and I am sure they could give you better info. I am not privy to the particulars of this situation.”

  I thank him and retreat to our house. It seems odd that Fay wouldn’t have said anything before leaving. She was such a support to me when the boys were born. Maybe the change just happened too quickly? They could have sent a message at the very least, though. The whole thing leaves me feeling strangely hollow and disappointed. That connection must have meant more to me than to her, I think.

  Upon entering the house, Eric motions excitedly for me to join him. The boys are already perched on stools next to his display.

  “What’s the rush?” I ask, kicking off my shoes.

  “Our scan results are in!” Bentley shouts, and I run over to join them.

  The images are vibrant and beautiful. It’s breathtaking to see the inner workings of the brain, and especially those of brains we have created.

  “Why do Bent’s and my scans always look different?” Tal asks.

  “You guys have slightly different genetics. And you are the oldest,” Eric says absently, engrossed in the images. “Bent is the youngest. That gives you divergent social experiences, as well.”

  “I know that. I mean why do you always spend more time looking at Bentley’s scans over mine?”

  Oh. I didn’t realize he had noticed that. I look at Eric hoping he has a good explanation for this. His expression tells me he’s not sure what to say either.

  “Well, we spent more time on your scans when you were younger, too. But you’re right. We do have to spend a bit more time when it comes to Bentley,” I admit.

  “Is there something wrong with me?” Bentley asks worriedly.

  “No, bud. Not at all,” Eric assures him. “It’s actually a lot of good things that are responsible. Every scan from the time you were born has shown a really advanced genetic and social profile. Do you understand what that means?”

  “It means he’s better than me,” Tal mumbles, his body deflating.

  “No way. That isn’t true, Tal,” I interject. “It means that you have different needs. Do you think you are better than the kids whose brains haven’t developed as quickly as yours?”

  “No, but— ”

  “It’s the same thing. Mr. Dane is adjusting your conditioning based on your needs, not because you are better or worse. There is no judgment there.”

  “But why aren’t Bentley and I the same?” he asks earnestly.

  “Dad and I were able to have kids because we both have viable profiles, so of course our children would enjoy those same benefits. You and Bentley are the same in so many ways. But, unless we specifically farmed my eggs and Dad’s sperm to get the exact progeny profile we wanted, there were going to be variations in what ended up matching naturally.”

  “Why don’t they just do that for everyone? Then you’d get the right thing every time,” Tal says. Bentley is wiggling and almost falls off his stool. Luckily, Eric grabs his arm and stabilizes him without losing his train of thought.

  “People tried that before the Crisis. It did give people exactly what they wanted— ”

  “And made corporations a lot of money,” I add.

  “ —but there were plenty of unintended consequences,” Eric finishes calmly, giving me a wink.

  “What are unintended consequences?” asks Bentley, putting his face closer to the shifting colors.

  “Things people didn’t know would happen. Usually bad,” Tal answers.

  “Right,” Eric agrees. “Parents would pay to create these perfect embryos, but the chances of them actually being viable inside of the mother and living until birth were small. They also didn’t have the testing to be able to match up all of the needed markers to create a well-rounded, healthy child. Many of the variations they were looking for—like blue eyes, height, or gender—were actually also linked to disease and negative personality markers that they weren’t aware of.”

  “And it was a huge waste of resources that really only favored the rich. The Committee decided against it,” I finish.

  “But now you are left with one son who is not as ‘viable’ as the other,” he chides.

  “Again, not true,” Eric corrects. “What do you think would happen if all of our gene variations were the same? Or really similar?” He turns and faces him.

  At this point, Bentley has proven completely incapable of successfully remaining upright on the stool. I lift him down, placating him by offering to read stories in the other room. Between lines in the book, I try to catch snippets of the conversation still taking place in the kitchen.

  “In the meadow, a timid rabbit…” I read softly, almost a whisper.

  “...our world and our bodies are always adapting and changing. What if some new virus appeared tomorrow that targeted some system in our body that we’ve never paid attention to in the past? If all of our genes were too similar, the human race could be wiped out. We need that variation…” Eric is explaining.

  “…He wondered how that could be, but sat scratching his ears instead of…”

  “So Bentley needs special stuff because of his genes and I’m here as a safety net?” Tal asks, pretending to be offended.

  “…hopping wildly, to and fro, imagining…”

  “Yep, that’s why we had two kids. We got the safety net first and then decided to try for one that had a real chance of success,” Eric says soberly. It’s silent and I hold my breath.

  “Of course not!” Eric continues, his voice laden with affection.

  “Mom, keep going,” Bentley reminds me.

  “Sorry, bud. He was still a rabbit. But there was always tomorrow…”

  “...both of you have incredible potential. Your path might be more traditional than Bentley’s. I don’t know! We have to kind of make things up as we go, using and learning from other people’s experiences to create the opportunities h
e needs...”

  “…because that is really what he was after, after all.” I finish. Bentley is still, and my guess is that he internalized more than just the book. I kiss him gently, tucking his miniature frame beneath the blankets.

  Chapter 6

  I walk into the main Berg campus center on time. Normally this reception area is buzzing, but tonight it’s quiet and still. The sound of my shoes against the tile echoes around me. This place always feels somewhat sterile, but this evening it seems especially hygienic. I guess I can’t expect anything more when geneticists are in charge of building design. The entire campus is entirely utilitarian, which I appreciate, but also helps me resonate with our predecessors obsession with carpet and upholstered chairs.

  I should have asked Shari where we were meeting specifically, but assume it will be in one of the smaller rooms next to the main auditorium. I head that direction and begin peeking through windows. A small group of people sits huddled around a table in one of the classrooms. Though I can only see the backs of their heads, I would recognize that short brunette bob anywhere.

  My hand closes around the circular handle and the door swings open. All eyes turn toward me. Finding Shari’s face, I smile and make my way to an available chair across from her. Gratefully, my footsteps don’t sound nearly as abrasive in this space.

  “And here I thought I was on time. You are all overachievers,” I say jokingly and hear a few chuckles in response.

  “We had a couple of things to discuss before you arrived,” a woman responds, her voice high and clear. She must be the group leader. Though I have no previous experience with these committees, I immediately wonder what they would need to discuss without me being present. I let the thought slide, taking my seat.

  “Kate, my name is Grace, and I am here to give assignments for the ceremony this year.”

  Grace looks to be about my age, perhaps a little older. My eyes are drawn immediately to her jet black hair, twisted up in a tight bun. Her every movement exudes professionalism and poise.

  Nodding, I open my tablet and steal a glance around the table at the rest of the group. The man across from me looks disturbingly familiar. He is young, probably early twenties at most. How would I know him? My brain starts scanning through all of the potential options, trying to puzzle it out.

  “Kate? Does that work for you?” Grace asks.

  “Could you repeat that? My mind was distracted.” I flush, whipping my head to attention, focusing again on Grace.

  “Of course. I was asking if you would be willing to work with Nick on introductions this year. Since you both have some relationships with the candidates transitioning, we thought it would be comforting for them to see you up there. It should be easier to write the introductions with some personal knowledge of them anyway.” She smiles at me, but it isn’t a warm expression, rather an assiduous one.

  I don’t dare dissent, despite my hesitations. “That makes sense,” I respond meekly. “I don’t know who Nick is, but I am happy to help.”

  “Nick, why don’t you introduce yourself,” Grace commands, gesturing to the man I had previously noticed. He shoots out a hand and I reach across to shake it.

  “Hey, I think we have worked at Washington Park together a couple of times but haven’t officially met. Though I did smack into you by the washroom one time.” He smiles and it seems to envelop his entire face. Of course. The moment comes rushing back to me, causing my extremities to tingle, going slightly numb.

  “It’s funny—when I sat down,” I stammer, “I thought you looked familiar, but I must have blocked that awkward experience out. I didn’t recognize you all cleaned up and out of context,” I explain.

  “I’ll try not to be offended that I didn’t make an impression,” he teases.

  My cheeks burn and I change the subject. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but aren’t you a little young to be a health consultant?”

  Everyone around the table laughs, making me question whether I have missed something. Suddenly becoming aware that my hand is still in his, I quickly release it, blinking rapidly.

  “I don’t mind at all,” he replies, grinning, his eyes rich with youthful energy. “I am a little young, definitely, but I was fast-tracked through a lot of my conditioning because my results were...abnormal. I am just happy to be serving here instead of taking more classes.”

  Interesting. I didn’t even know that was possible to such an extent. Is that what it will look like for Bentley? When Doctor Harmon mentioned accelerating, I was thinking by a year or two. Maybe this guy is an extreme outlier? He does have incredible skin and bone structure. Above-average musculature...thick, wavy hair... Probably an anomaly. I clear my throat.

  “That’s impressive. I’m surprised our paths haven’t crossed more at Washington Park. How long have you been stationed there?” I ask.

  “Not long. My first day was actually just a couple of weeks ago. I am still fully riding the learning curve.” He smiles, turning his attention back to Grace. “Why don’t I go with Kate to the office so we can look over the files for the ceremony. Does that work?”

  “That would be great, Nick. Thank you both for being here.”

  “Grace, just to clarify,” I stall, “Nick and I will be presenting the candidates at the ceremony, but what specifically should we focus on in our introductions? I haven’t attended one of these in years, so I want to make sure that we are on the right track.”

  “Oh, Nick has all of that information. I will let him give you the checklist. Any other questions before you go?” She looks at me unblinking, another smile not quite reaching her eyes.

  “No, that’s great. Thanks so much.” I look over at Shari questioningly as I shuffle my tablet into my bag. Grace is already starting in on seating logistics with the others. Shari waves me off. Why did I need to attend this meeting if I would be leaving immediately to receive my instructions from Nick? Couldn’t we have met separately and he could have explained everything? I’m hopeful that Shari will call me after training and we can talk about it then.

  I hurriedly follow Nick out of the room and down the hall. Though I pass this way regularly, I have never actually entered the office. I watch him rummage in his pocket for a key and smoothly insert it into the lock. His head nearly reaches the top of the doorframe, a detail I missed during our initial harried interaction. I want to ask him more about his conditioning, but maybe that would be weird? I resolve to simply receive my instructions tonight and then finish my portion at home. There will really be no need for me to interact much with him in the future, anyway. Though, I guess that may be an argument for being willing to make a fool of myself?

  Nick sits down at the desk and pulls up the display. All six candidates appear in front of us. I immediately recognize Cassidy and Max, another candidate I worked with earlier in the year. Not knowing the others, I assume Nick must have some connection.

  “Alright, why don’t you show me the checklist, and we can determine which candidates should be assigned to each of us. I can put something together at home. Training starts in ten minutes,” I say abruptly. Nick looks at me, amused.

  “Oh no, this will be in place of training tonight. Grace already let our groups know that we won’t be available. We will actually be writing these intros together,” he says nonchalantly as he stretches back in the chair, reminding me of a cat, lazily extending after a nap. “We all thought that might make them more cohesive and consistent. I’m sorry you weren’t there when we were discussing this. I think Grace felt like I needed some extra instruction since I’m completely new to all of this, but I hope it didn’t make you feel excluded.”

  “No, I mean... I did find it a little odd that everyone was there before me, but I am not overly concerned about it. If we are doing this instead of training, though, I need to quickly message my pair. I told him I would save him a seat. Do you mind?”

  “Of course, go ahead. I’ll pull up the focus list while you do that.” His fingers deftly begin scro
lling through files on the tablet.

  I step into the hall, noticing people beginning to trickle in through the front doors. Eric may be a few minutes late since he has to get the boys settled. Tal’s mentor, Stephen, always watches them for us when we have training, but sometimes the boys still insist on me or Eric reading them stories before we leave.

  I quietly speak into my sensor: “For Eric. Hey, this meeting is actually taking the place of training, so I won’t be able to save you a seat. So sorry! Hope the boys aren’t being too clingy. Let me know what I missed? Love you.”

  I wait to confirm that it sent, then reenter the room. Nick has pulled up the document on the display and is scrutinizing what seems to be a personal message when I walk back in. He closes his window, turning toward me.

  “All good?” he asks cheerily.

  “I hope so. We have two boys, so sometimes getting both of us to training is a little tricky.” I see a thought flicker across Nick’s face, but then he is back to his perky self.

  “That must be tough. I’ll avoid taking up too much of your time so you can get home,” he says. My tablet clatters on the table’s smooth, wooden surface as I set it down.

  “Nick, can you tell me more about how you were fast tracked? I’ve never heard of that happening. We recently had our annual scans, and my almost-eight-year-old son showed some results that might require some acceleration. It makes me nervous. I have always been taught that we need certain experiences over a specific amount of time for our brains to really develop. For us to truly embrace the values needed to fulfill all that is required of us in Tier 1. Aren’t you worried that you will somehow have problems later on? Or burn out?”

  I don’t mean to pry, but I am extremely curious. Being Tier 1 is a big risk with high reward, not only for the individual, but for society, as well. Years ago, when we split to a Tier system, it wasn’t because the system was ideal, but because it was necessary. The world population only had so many resources, and a decision had to be made on how to allocate those in the best possible way for our survival. Tier 1 was created to ensure that survival.