Unsuitable

by Dawn Norwell

  UNSUITABLE

  By Dawn Norwell

  Copyright © 2020 Dawn Norwell

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher at the email listed below.

  dawn_norwell@yahoo.com

  ISBN: 9798628746875

  Imprint: Independently published

  Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Names, characters, and places are products of the author’s imagination. Cover rights belong to Rachel Coffey.

  Printed by Amazon Kindle Direct Publishing.

  First printing edition 2020.

  https://dawnnorwell.wixsite.com/author

  CHAPTER ONE: BONDAGE & BLOODSHED

  A s I walked out of my classroom and into the city streets, I had to shield my eyes. The neighboring buildings glistened so brightly in the synthetic sun they blinded me at every turn. I searched for the culprit of my temporary distortion, but I couldn't see it beyond the towering edifices.

  I wanted to go home, crawl into bed, and pretend that innocent people weren’t bracing themselves for execution at his very moment, but attendance to the Ceremony of Sanctions was mandatory. So instead of cowering in the shadows, I took a deep breath, readying myself, and started the journey toward town on shaking legs.

  The expanse of the dome was so small it only took me a few minutes to get to the outer limits of the square. Even still, the governing members of Concord- called the Syndicate- were permitted to use the self-driving monorail that hovered above the streets. It propelled them from point A to point B in a matter of seconds. No matter the short distance, they were too irreproachable to walk like the rest of us.

  I rolled my eyes at their haughtiness, immediately regretting the decision. I glanced around, nervous knots forming in my stomach as I searched for Concord guards. Even in the privacy of your own head, thoughts such as these would get you imprisoned in a hurry.

  Stupid, I scolded, biting the inside of my jaw until it bled, silently reprimanding myself for allowing these cynical thoughts to surface. Luckily no one had picked up on my dissent, or I would already be in chains.

  I suppose I shouldn't complain too much; things could have been much worse. I was considered a suit, after all. Instead of being discarded to the wastelands like so many others, the Syndicate sensed something in me, something that deemed me suitable to remain in Concord. I should be grateful that they permitted me to live in the safe confines of the dome.

  Despite my good fortune, I couldn’t suppress the guilt of knowing that other people were suffering while I was living a life of indulgence. The individuals who were not deemed acceptable for our world- the unsuits- weren’t allowed the same luxuries that suits had. They were discarded like little more than garbage, abandoned by their government, and forced to continue their short-lived days on the outside of the dome, fighting to survive the elements and intense radiation.

  "Kai!” a shrill voice said. The sound of my name snapped me back to reality. My walking partner, Cora, huffed, tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder in annoyance. “Are you even listening to me?"

  "What?" I muttered. I hadn't heard a word she had said, and she knew it.

  "I said that I think the ceremony will be especially exciting tonight. Look how long the line already is!" Cora squealed in delight, pointing to the fuss ahead of us.

  I fought the urge to say something snarky, knowing it would do more harm than good. Cora was the model suit, someone who wouldn’t think twice about turning me in to the Syndicate if she thought I was up to something.

  I just smiled and nodded, thinking about just how different Cora and I were. As much as I loathed the Ceremony, it was the most exciting part of her month, the thing she lived for. I could never fathom why she got so animated about the ceremony when the idea of it made me want to vomit.

  Cora and I had walked together since we started medical school a few years ago, but I wouldn't go so far as to say we were friends. Listening to her constant chatter was more so out of habit than actual intrigue. Trying to hold a genuine conversation with her was like trying to chop wood with a feather- exhausting and futile.

  As Cora and I neared the town square, I cursed under my breath. Two dozen TIMs were occupying the center of town, blocking our paths. TIMs- or Technological Information Machines- were the surveillance androids that patrolled the streets of Concord, biometrically scanning our brains and reading our innermost thoughts. If someone so much as breathed the wrong way, the Syndicate would bring you in for questioning. There was a zero-tolerance protocol for regulation defiance in Concord, and the TIMs made sure to enforce this.

  I watched the people ahead of me as they undergo the inspection process, apprehension eating a hole in my stomach. Had I been designed correctly, I might have been able to sweep through the scans with ease like innocent Cora does. But, for me, it wasn't so simple. My mind worked differently than those of my brainwashed peers, putting me at heightened risk when a TIM was nearby. I couldn’t explain it, but I knew the stakes were far higher for me than the others in the square.

  Even though I had anticipated the TIMs to make an appearance, it didn't lessen my anxiety when I spotted the dark gray machines whirring around the square. My heart quickened as we closed our proximity to them, their beady cameras darting from citizen to citizen as they flew by. My hair clung to my neck from sticky perspiration, and my hands began to tremble.

  Act natural¸ I reminded myself, but that was easier said than done.

  I had never failed a scan, but every interaction I had with a TIM made me uneasy. What if this was the time they sensed my misgivings about our way of life, and I ended up in the next ceremony? What would my fate entail should the Syndicate realize the truth behind my well-rehearsed charade?

  I took a deep breath, trying to calm the tremors coursing through my body. As expected, Cora breezed effortlessly through her scan, traipsing into the square without a care in the world. Then it was my turn, and the only thing I can think about was what would happen if I didn’t pass. I wanted to run away, to hide so I never had to go through another exam again. But that was an impossible request. So instead, I stepped up to the scanning podium and gazed into the ominous exterior of the dark grey machine.

  I attempted to clear my head as a TIM approached, but it was hard to do with my heart pounding so violently against my chest. The only thing I could focus on was the deadly laser on the machine's exterior that could kill me in a nanosecond. I squeezed my eyes shut as the scan began and tried to focus on slowing my rapid breathing.

  Rays emitted from the machine's small, metal surface, and flashed across my face. They penetrated to the depths of my brain as the android invaded my innermost privacy, searching for clues that I didn’t belong. I stood paralyzed, waiting as the drone hesitated for a moment, contemplating my fate.

  All of a sudden, a loud warning siren reverberated through the town, resonating to my core, as I realized that my worst nightmare had finally become reality. I shut my eyes tightly closed and raised my arms over my face to shield myself from the oncoming assault, knowing that it would do no good, but still a natural instinct, a futile attempt at self-reservation.

  But in the end, it was all in vain, because the TIMs' cries were too distant to be because of me. I opened my eyelids a fraction of an inch to see a commotion on the opposite sidewalk where an elderly man laid in a pool of his own blood, an android hovering over him.

&
nbsp; "Perpetrator apprehended," one of the TIMs said. My heart drop, first in relief that it wasn’t me they were after, then in terror for the old man.

  Several guards appeared from the shadows and put holographic handcuffs on the bloodied man's wrists, pulling him forcibly to his feet. He didn’t resist, just simply hung his head in defeat, knowing his fate was sealed.

  I fought the urge to reach out and comfort him, to console the fallen man as they dragged him past me and toward the underground prison to await a future that would, no doubt, be full of pain and despair.

  As the man was heaved toward the prison, all around me, the square erupted into applause. The crowd was delighted that our impeccable judicial system had gotten yet another criminal off of the streets. I didn’t clap with them; I was frozen in place, alleviated, but fully aware that it could just as easily have been me that was being carted away in chains.

  Cora’s gaze met my fear-filled eyes, and her forehead wrinkled curiously. I quickly recovered my composure and forced a smile, bringing my hands together in quiet applause like those around me. Cora looked away, seemingly satisfied, but her face was still contemplating my peculiar reaction.

  "Are you ready to go?" I asked, grabbing her elbow and pulling her further into the square.

  "Oh, Kai," Cora whined. "Can't we please stay just a little while longer?" she asked, craning her neck to get a better glimpse of the imprisoned man over the conglomerate of people who’d gathered to watch.

  "We're going to be late. Don't you want a good seat for the ceremony?" I asked, dragging her along the cobblestone path toward the center of town. She nodded, focusing her attention back to the square.

  Cora reluctantly walked behind me, pouting the entire way. I couldn't care less about where we sat; I would be miserable either way. But I knew it would get Cora moving, and I needed to be as far away from the TIMs at that moment as I could be.

  As we strolled through the square, Cora took in the festivities with wide eyes, a smile stretched across her face. Despite the reason for the ceremony, I couldn’t be mad at her for being excited. You could find any form of entertainment you wanted during the Ceremony of Sanctions. Booths and enclosures were set up all around the perimeter, with every type of food, or entertainment you could think of ranging from a concert of the newest hit band to interactive video games that highlighted the latest virtual reality concepts. You could ride the large Ferris wheel that was the entire height of the dome, or zip line from building to building, if you were a thrill-seeker. Whatever activity you wanted, you could find it at the ceremony.

  The ceremony could have been fun, except I was never in the mood for visiting the enclosures. It felt like too somber an occasion for such merriment when I knew what would happen in a few hours’ time. Living, breathing, people who were alive and well now, could be dead by the end of the event. Families who were once happy and whole would be ripped to tatters by nights’ end. It was nothing to celebrate.

  I stood in line with Cora at one of the food vestibules, despite my nauseous stomach. People ahead of us stepped up to the counter, ordered their food, and held their barcodes toward a mechanical cashier for payment. It was an ingenious invention, the barcodes. Each Concord citizen was tattooed with a barcode upon conception. They were a vital component of our lives. We used them as the key to our homes, as our license for operating vehicles, and as a form of currency.

  When it was my turn to order, I stepped up to the counter, asked for a kiwi snow cone, and allowed the automated clerk to scan my tattoo for payment. As my order appeared through a transparent conduit, I grabbed my cone and made my way over to the sitting area with Cora, biding our time until the ceremony began.

  I ate my snow cone in silence as I observed the crowd around me. Everyone indulged in the ceremony, just as they were brainwashed to do, laughter filling the square, and their faces filled with joy. I wondered idly if my expression reflected the same delight that theirs did, or if it was apparent that I would rather be anywhere but there.

  Rather than letting my thoughts continue to wander into dangerous territory, I focused on eating my snow cone one bite at a time, hoping the night would end quickly and without much bloodshed.

  Though it was forbidden, I couldn't help wondering what life was like before the arrogance of man irrevocably damaged the earth. Global warming, pollution, and warfare were things our forefathers refused to take seriously. Not until they led to the Dominate War- a battle for survival. Countries that were once allies turned on one another, fighting tooth and nail for limited supplies and viable land, dropping nuclear weapons on one another at the touch of a button. What climate change didn’t destroy, the Dominate War did.

  Now, in the year 2320, we were still trying to reverse the mess that our ancestors left behind. These things resulted in the decrepit world I live in today, led to the Syndicate’s overbearing governance, and gave way to archaic traditions like the Ceremony of Sanctions.

  Each month, Concord conducted the Ceremony of Sanctions, a large festival held in the center of town with entertainment and delicious food, almost like a carnival. You would think it was a happy occasion, given the way we were forced to rejoice. But it wasn't.

  During the Ceremony of Sanctions, people who had been convicted of wrongdoings would see their punishments carried out in front of the entire city. Most crimes were minute, with the accused receiving a stern lecture and a few hours of community service, before being allowed back into society like nothing ever happened. The more severe crimes, however, could result in banishment to the radioactive wastelands, or even execution. We never knew which sentence the prisoner would receive until the ceremony began.

  You would think that I would be desensitized to the rulings, having attended the ceremony since my birth, but the extreme punishments always weighed heavy on me. Witnessing a person’s death, seeing the blood drain from their body or the life leave their eyes, it was not something I could ever get used to. Which is why I felt such trepidation when ceremony time came around.

  The ceremony was considered a holiday for our community, a cause for celebration. Our city was cleansing itself of corrupt citizens who would lead to our downfall. It was the government's way of saying 'don't mess with us, or this will be your fate'. It was extreme but effective at scaring us into obedience. I only partook in the festivities because it was expected of me, and each month, I hoped that this is enough to help me make it through another ceremony as a spectator rather than a participant.

  I gazed at the scene before me, biding my time until the ceremony started. Hundreds of thousands of citizens poured into the town square, their laughter echoing and their faces alight, eager for the main event to begin.

  Like lambs to the slaughter, my defiant thoughts screamed.

  It would have been a beautiful sight, had the circumstances been different. The smiling faces of our people set against the impeccable backdrop of our city reminded me of paradise, like a real-life heaven on Earth. But the image was tainted, sullied with malevolence, because I knew they were filing in to watch other peoples’ misery, their merriment coming at the bloodshed of the imprisoned. I guess even heaven had a dark side.

  The Syndicate loved extravagance, and they showcased it in the most ostentatious ways. Even though I’ve lived in Concord my entire life, I’ve never gotten used to the grandeur of the place. I could never become impartial to the painite-lined streets, the diamond-encrusted lampposts, or the buildings made of pure gold, like the fabled golden city of El Dorado.

  It was magnificent, a truly remarkable architectural feat. Still, it didn’t change the fact that it seemed imprudent, a waste of time and resources that could be used to help the less fortunate. Infrastructure seemed like such a trivial thing to be concerned with when people were dying outside our walls at this very moment. But the Syndicate didn’t care about them. Why should they? They were nothing to them.

  It was ridiculous to care more about construction than human beings, but I would never say so al
oud. I valued my life too much. Besides, complaining would do no good. I was a nobody in this city, a young woman saved by the kindness of a compassionate government, and who was now forever at their mercy. It wasn't for me to question the Syndicate's methods, no matter how much I may disagree. Doing so could get you killed.

  Though I knew the danger involved, thoughts like these surfaced in my mind often. I always managed to repress them, but it was hard to hold my tongue when I could hear the gut-wrenching screams coming from the wastelands, the cries of the banished who were dying a slow and painful death. The sounds of someone else’s misery could make you lose your sanity, if you let it.

  Instead of dwelling on things I had no control over, I smoothed my dark curls and straightened the folds of my skirt, repressing a sigh as I looked at the modest material. Everyone in Concord had to wear the same crisp, white uniform. It was said to symbolize our purity, the high status to which our people were associated, but it was just another excessive way to boast our prestige.

  It was during times like this that I felt almost as if I related better to the unsuits, than my peers. Despite the place where I was born and regardless of how the Syndicate classified me, I didn’t feel like a superior human. I was trapped in a body that was considered suitable on the outside, but with a mind that worked the opposite way.

  As scary as it was to consider, perhaps I was an unsuit at heart.

  The notion terrified me, for unsuits were despised in our world, hated to the point that most were eliminated the moment they were seen. As overwhelming as my life was, remaining a suit was still better than dying.

  CHAPTER TWO: SORROWFUL SANCTIONS

  A mid the multitude, euphoric with pre-ceremony excitement, I spotted Thane. Thane, who was my brother for all intents and purposes, narrowed his eyes at me in disdain before turning away.