That Moment When: An Anthology of Young Adult Fiction

by A. M. Lalonde

Another building’s giant media screen flickers into view.

  “Elore is a thriving metropolis, largely due to the hard work and continued focus of its citizens.” An unseen woman’s smooth voice narrates as the scene shifts to people working. “Societal Configuration allows families to concentrate their efforts away from emotions for the benefit of all—”

  Hurried citizens pass by. A woman shepherds a little girl to drop her off at pre-primer school. Others gaze at handhelds or move to the line for the driverless taxis.

  As we stop on the corner of Seventy-eighth street, a motion across the road catches my eye. A teenaged, sepia-skinned girl pulls her curly hair loose from a ponytail and drops the dark coat she wore to the ground, revealing bright red clothing and standing out from the sea of neutral like illumination on a dark night. Something about the fabric appears soft and comfortable, in contrast to mine, which is more or less functioning as a uniform. She races down the sidewalk, and the blur of color streams around her like a flag.

  A rebel. I should have known.

  Kyra stares, her mouth falling wide. Some citizens from the crowded street gawk while others continue on with their business, each with eyes glued to their Flexx.

  The runner stops and pulls out a small, matte black weapon from a bag slung over her shoulders. Not that I’ve seen many weapons this close before, but something is unusual about it. She slides the top of the gun back and it emits a high pitched whine. Barely thinking, my arms shoot out and I force Kyra to the ground. Other people duck behind anything substantial, even if it’s just the person in front of them, or sprint the other way.

  The rebel points the weapon at the nearby building, causing me to crouch further down. The little girl I saw earlier screams and points at the red clad rebel. The rebels will only destroy our way of life, and that child knows it. The mother tries to cover her child’s mouth and assures her that the Guardian drones will take the bad lady away.

  My heart pounds at the mother’s words.

  Don’t take her away.

  I quickly correct my thinking.

  They must take her away, for the protection of all of us.

  I cover my ears, expecting a loud blast, but it doesn’t come. Instead, it’s more of a crackling. There’s no damage to the building other than a set of words emblazoned across the surface. The hair on my arms stand at the sight.

  People of Elore, Break Free

  I look to the rebel girl again, who’s staring right at me. My heart nearly leaps from my chest. The corners of her mouth lift to form a tight smile, and she raises an eyebrow. Why would she smile at me?

  She tosses the graffiti gun and bolts, but the red clothing makes it impossible for her to hide. A group of Guardian drones swarm the girl. As they do, I clench my fists and grit my teeth. She stops and immediately throws her hands into the air. The rebel just gave up. No fight, nothing. Because of it, my body feels drawn to help her, to help her fight off the drones and make a daring escape. I picture the whole scene in my mind.

  My legs push up from underneath me and I feel a hand grab the back of my shirt. I whip around to find Kyra staring back at me, her eyes panicked.

  “What are you doing?” she whispers.

  I fall back into a crouch. This is ridiculous. I’d be throwing my future away on some crazy rebel I didn’t even know.

  I imagine her smile again. I take a deep breath as she crumbles to the ground, tranquilized. Her head hits the sidewalk with a sickening thwack. A Guardian drone’s metal tentacles snake from its form and wrap around her. It lifts from the ground to take her away for judgment, maybe even re-education, but in my heart I know that that’s not true.

  Worker drones buzz in to remove any evidence of the words she wrote on the side of the building. Citizens return to their business, acting as if nothing out of the ordinary happened. The woman and child, the one who was screaming, rise and move along. Nothing witnessed made any impact. If she had wanted to make a sacrifice, it was wasted.

  Kyra and I stand there for a minute or two longer, eyeing one another.

  Not a word is spoken between us for the next block. The university comes into sight, as does the colossal screen displayed on the face of the school. Looking up, I squint at the end of a Direction Initiative notice, swallowing hard at the words.

  Remember Your Function

  Chapter Two

  My knees still feel weak beneath me at the university entrance, and I silently ordered them to get it together. I square my shoulders and clench my jaw. Kyra inhales deeply and nods. We enter through the sliding glass door.

  Inside, the fawn-colored, antiseptic halls are filled with teenagers. No rebels. You’d think there would be whispers of the attack we just saw, but no. Only seemingly oblivious students walking with handhelds folded out into tablets, shoes squeaking over glossy floors. Occasionally, teens hang out together here, but it’s a race to the top, and we only have until the day we turn seventeen to prove ourselves. Focus is essential.

  We’re told it’s essential.

  Fixating on a girl pointlessly sacrificing herself to momentarily deface a building is useless and they know it. So do I.

  Kyra sticks to my side, keeping pace.

  Twenty-one trainees had been in our group over the last five years, all coming of configuration age within a month of each other. Four have been assigned already, but I know none of them well enough to ask how everything turned out. My turn comes today, and Kyra will be placed on Monday. If Ben would have been a Level Two instead of a One, we might have been in the same class, placed on the same day. Today.

  But he’s dead, so it’s just me.

  Loneliness for my twin rushes over me when Corra Bradley targets me from the side and mutters something. I glance at the lanky, skinny girl. Her blonde hair puffs up in the back like she just rolled out of bed. Corra’s grown taller, but other than that, little has changed over the years.

  “What did you say?” I ask.

  She leans in, smelling of bacon and whatever else she ate for breakfast. “Any idea about your career placement, Avlyn?” Before I answer, she adds, “Mine will be at GenTech. I have the highest scores in the group.”

  Corra likes to talk, mostly about herself, often reminding the group of her assuredly high position at Genesis Technologies. With scores like hers, I’m sure she’s right, but it doesn’t mean I want to be reminded of it all the time.

  GenTech is the pinnacle of achievement, a high-priority company working as a liaison between Levels Two and Three. They also make VacTech, the vaccines which protect us from any new, potential viruses. The projects are so secret that I don’t actually know what goes on there. Only the most valuable and loyal trainees in Two are selected, not people who burst with emotion at all the wrong times. Not me.

  I shake my head and back away. The social grace most in the community lack is obvious in Corra’s interaction with me. These are viewed as frivolous, a misuse of time and energy. Ignoring her bait, I plan a response to appease her enough to go away.

  “GenTech is certainly something to aspire to. A placement for the best of us.”

  It works. She grunts and disappears, probably to do something important.

  Kyra mutters words I don’t care to hear. Corra is harmless, but it doesn’t mean Kyra wants to hang around her either.

  The med station comes into view. “Need to go. My appointment.” I nod toward the door. “Message you later to tell how the day turns out.”

  “Sure.” Kyra waves me on and gives me a small smile before she continues down to the hallway to Lab 102, where the stark cubical and system station I used for five years will sit vacant until the next group of students takes over the space. Kyra is the only thing I’ll miss. She’s always put up with me, and I’m convinced that beneath her stony exterior, she’s glad for our friendship too.

  With a clenched jaw, I turn toward the med station. I step in through the open door, expecting a synthetic intelligence nurse to administer the physical. Instead, a man of me
dium build, wearing a clean white coat, auburn hair, and a slight paunch, enters information into a wide, transparent viewing screen.

  “Excuse me?” I say. “I’m here for an appointment.”

  He continues his work, and eventually mumbles, “Yes, I will be right with you.”

  I stand and wait, canvassing the sterile, white room. The closed glossy cabinets hide their mysterious contents inside. The med nurse, vaguely resembling a featureless torso and bald head with three retractable tentacle limbs, sits motionless, charging at a station in the corner, ready to come to life and hover over patients in need.

  I clear my throat.

  “Oh, yes.” The man stops typing and spins on his chair to address me. “Please have a seat.” He directs me to a delicate chair with a smooth white finish next to a tabletop. My name already displays on the viewer from my handheld’s University auto-network function. “Avlyn Lark, correct?” he asks.

  I nod, and he unfolds thin Flexx material out into a tablet and places it in front of me. The surface of the table shows right through the screen. “I’m Medic Snyder. Answer the questions on the questionnaire to the best of your ability.”

  The basic information should already be in the system. I don’t understand why I need to fill out the data again. Even so, I enter past medical procedures, MedTech, and exercise habits, among answering other redundant questions that could simply be downloaded from my nanos. He has my file on the main screen, and studies the records. He enlarges the facts and swipes each into the files on the screen with a finger when done.

  Without turning, he says, “When finished, please place your right hand on the screen and keep still. The pad will take a reading of your body.”

  Why do the medics tell us this at every exam? The nanos injected into your body at birth assist your DNA and bodily functions to keep you in optimal working order… blah, blah, blah.

  A slight vibration resonates in my hand and through the rest of me. Does the scan measure the nausea in my stomach from this morning’s events on the street, or my apprehension about the meeting?

  My stats, vitals, and ID image come on the screen. Average. Height: 5’5”. Weight: 119lbs. Hair: Dark brown. Eyes: Hazel.

  Yep, ordinary keeps me invisible, along with any of those “subversive thoughts” that seem to pop into my brain when they’re not welcome. I’m smart, but choose not to appear too smart in order to remain low key. The only thing I can’t hide are the freckles scattered across my nose. I’ve never liked them. The spots make me feel childish, Level One, and I prefer them hidden, but there they are on the gigantic viewer, completely exposed.

  The medic doesn’t seem to notice them. After a moment, he reaches into a drawer alongside his seat and pulls out an object, keeping it concealed in his closed palm.

  “Avlyn, your health is optimal other than some elevated stress levels,” he states in a flat voice. “But those are likely due to your upcoming career configuration. In a few weeks, if this remains, you may obtain stress reduction MedTech. When you log in to your new citizen account, you will see the instructions to order them.”

  Everyone says the anti-stress tech is fine, but something about it never sat right with me. Even my father, who’s never had a rebellious thought in his life, thinks one should control their stress naturally, although I think he just likes the challenge.

  “Thank you,” I say.

  “And lastly, Direction has updated the disease vaccination. Some official citizens may opt to receive it today, in phase one, or elect to wait for a later phase. If you choose to do it today, you will receive one hundred additional credits in your account.”

  Deciding for myself, without Mother and Father, is a new concept. Until now, any health choices have been theirs, as is the case for every child before seventeen. A warm burn spreads in my chest and crawls up my neck. I should read the update, but the temptation to make my first grown-up decision taunts me.

  I slip my hand into my pocket and find Ben’s necklace. The same necklace that if I were to wear it, would expose me. Make me stand out from the crowd as the woman in the bright clothes did.

  Undirected. Unfocused.

  All the urges I need to fight.

  I sweep my fingertips over the polished heart shape while my own heart forms a lump and rises into my throat. I swallow the lump and, without another thought, blurt out, “Sure. I’ll do it.”

  He pokes the object hidden in his hand into a port on the side of the tablet.

  The words VacTech transfer complete splashes across the screen.

  “Place your hand on the screen,” he says.

  I obey, pressing my fingers against the smooth surface.

  “It will only take a few seconds. Hold still. You shouldn’t feel a thing.”

  The tablet beeps, alerting us that the nanos have accepted the upload.

  I turn to the man and gather my bag. “Where do I go now?”

  He returns to the keyboard. “Hmm? Oh, the Career Counselor will hold your meeting in 510.”

  As I stand, my hand tingles and a flash of white bursts over my vision. As soon as it comes, it’s gone. I shake my head and stumble toward the door, catching myself on the doorframe.

  That’s never happened before.

  “Is there a problem, Miss Lark?”

  I right myself and turn back to him.

  “Uh… no,” I mutter as I leave the sterile room. Must have been the VacTech upload.

  In the empty hall, my footsteps echo on the hard surface of the floor. Moving toward the stairwell, the clear lab doors come into view, exposing students working in front of viewing stations in cubicles. Inside, Synthetic Intelligence Staff hover over them.

  As I run up the stairs, the burn in my calves at the fifth floor tells me I’m alive. The feeling is an excellent reminder of life before I turn over to an existence of function. Once Ben and I ran through the park and accidentally tumbled down a hill, laughing all the way, before our parents caught us and ushered us back into the privacy of Bess and Devan’s apartment. The corners of my lips turn up at the memory.

  At the top, an echo of footfalls meets my ears. I turn back, expecting a student. Instead, a young boy of about eleven, with dark hair and a freckled nose, follows me.

  My whole body clenches.

  Ben?

  As I open my mouth the say his name, the boy flickers snowy white and dissolves, leaving me alone on the stairs.

  What’s wrong with me?

  I shake off the vision, but my hands continue to tremble.

  He’s dead, Avlyn.

  To the left, 510 shows on the directory. Passing the other offices, their doors closed, I find the way to the correct one. Inside is a cramped waiting room with a large viewing screen displaying the Direction emblem. Another door sits to the left of the screen. I assume this is where the meeting will be held. A stiff couch waits off to the side, but I have no idea if I’m supposed to sit or not, so I just pace in front of it, still shaken from whatever I saw on the stairs.

  “How can I help you?”

  I turn to see a woman with plump cheeks on the screen.

  “Uh, my name is Avlyn Lark. I’m here for my career appointment.”

  “Yes,” she replies. “Rest your right hand on the identification pad next to the screen.”

  I spot the pad and walk over to lay my hand on it, bracing for anything unusual to happen again.

  “Leave it on the screen until I inform you to remove it.”

  I do as she says. When I feel nothing, my body relaxes.

  “Miss Lark, have a seat. Feel free to attend to tasks on your handheld while waiting.”

  The screen goes blank and returns to the spinning globe.

  A distraction from the impending meeting would be good. I bring out the device, unfold it, and sit on the couch this time. The memory of the message from this morning makes me groan. It should still be available in my citizen account, along with any other official messages I’ve received today.

  The sa
me logo from the giant screen splashes across my small one, and I’m instructed to lay a thumb on the screen for identification. I push down, and my account details display. On the left are the one hundred extra credits I received at the med exam. I’ve never had any credits of my own before. Not that there’s much to order in my citizen account, but I might get a new pair of running shoes.

  The thought makes me feel a little better about the meeting. A green button in the right corner of the screen informs me of two new messages. The first is a Welcome to Citizenship message, and the second is the spouse pairing one I’m avoiding.

  I tap the welcome message.

  Ms. Lark,

  Welcome to Direction citizenship.

  In this account, you will find the instructions for your new housing requirement, spouse pairing information, using and earning credits, and regulation requirements.

  You will be graced one month to complete certain requirements. During this time, you will obtain housing. Full fledged citizens are advised to break contact with any childhood relations during the transition to complete configuration.

  Review the information and confirm that you have read and received this by completing the exam found in your account details page within one week.

  If you have any additional queries, use the search feature on any page in your account, or review the Direction FAQ. If questions cannot be answered through either, connect immediately with a Direction representative.

  Maintain Forward Focus.

  I close the account without checking the spouse pairing message. What’s a few hours to wait to make another grown-up decision?

  Ugh, why do I always think that way?

  The door opens, my parents coming through. Mother’s green eyes brighten, but I know it’s not for me. She’s only hoping for an opportunity to show me that she was a good parent, that she did her duty. In my mind, I pretend she wants to come over, hold my hand, and discuss what to expect during the meeting, but she doesn’t.

  Father, with his browned skin and neat, cropped hair, throws me a look that I can only take to mean don’t mess this up. He utters a quick hello before the emblem disappears again to reveal the woman. She gives them instructions like the ones she gave me. After they complete the tasks, they both sit on the couch.