Compliant
Book One of The State Series
M.J. Kaestli
https://mjkaestli.com/
No portion of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or any other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except for brief quotations for reviews, or noncommercial uses and with proper and correct citation.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Michelle Williams
All rights reserved.
Dedication
In loving memory of my mother, Jean Kay.
I didn’t realize you were the heroine of my story until after you were gone.
Contents
Dedication
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Acknowledgements
Author’s Note
Chapter 1
Freya briskly walked back to the apartment complex, with the test results weighing on her mind. The outcome would be waiting for her at home, the determination of the person she was about to become. Completely oblivious to her surroundings, she walked right past the correct building. It took a few minutes for her to realize her mistake, as all the apartments looked identical in the underground. She had moved into independent living when she turned 12, and she’d lived there every day since. It was nothing special, for all children left their parents’ homes at that age to be educated for the civil duty they would fulfill as adults. For almost four years, Freya had walked from the Education Center to that apartment.
She had never spent much time contemplating whether or not being chosen for reproduction was important to her. Now that the results of the State testing were waiting for her, all the questions she should have pondered earlier in her life were swimming rapidly through her mind: Do I even want to have a child? She’d never really put much thought into the question, if any at all. Being chosen for reproduction was a simple equation of genetics, health, and psychological testing. Even if my genetics are passable, she questioned, am I mentally and emotionally fit? The State informed females of the conclusions of the tests when they turned 16. The decision was made for them; it was not up to any one individual to make that choice.
Freya had a slight yet curvaceous frame, with slender and lanky limbs. Her skin was a little more fair than average, yet still retained a healthy glow upon her high cheek bones. As there was no longer any distinctive races; everyone had been contained in this closed population for much too long for any ethnic diversity to remain distinctive. She had looked at photos of the previous races in history class, and identified through her straight hair, soft slant to her eyes, and dominant cheek bones that the former race she most resembled was Chinese.
Freya turned back to go to the correct building. She knew the camera had caught her wandering, but she wondered if Security had taken notice. Will I be questioned about where I was going? Or what I was doing? It was too late, the mistake had been made, and the consequences were unknown. Freya could only hope the incident would not be reported. Surely others get lost in their thoughts, make mistakes, too, sometimes, she surmised, in an effort to comfort herself. It can’t just be me. The outcome of the day would affect the rest of her life. She hoped they would be a little more understanding than usual.
When she reached the correct building, she placed her palm on the scanner to activate the elevator. “Freya 117, verified,” said an electronic voice as the door whooshed open. She removed her hand from the scanner and stepped swiftly inside, and it was at that moment that the realization hit her: It could very well be the last time she would ever return to that apartment, the last time she could call it home.
This apartment building served as housing for girls ages 12 to 16. Children younger than 12 were educated by their parents, based on the required curriculum, until their civil duty was assigned to them. The test results awaiting Freya had nothing to do with her civil duty, though; that was already set. This test was regarding a much more personal matter.
There were three possible outcomes: She could be chosen for reproduction, non-breeding but coupled, or remain in independent living. Basically, the test was meant to determine if she was genetically fit to contribute to the human race, an elite standing held by few. She did not know how to feel about becoming a parent. It seemed natural to want to have children, but she didn’t know if she was up to par when it came to fulfilling that crucial role. In fact, the thought of being responsible for another life terrified her. She often heard the girls at school talking about how much they hoped they were chosen, and she wondered why she didn’t necessarily feel that way herself. Maybe because I’ve never really thought about it, that means I’m not supposed to have a family, she deliberated. Maybe not though. Maybe it has nothing at all to do with what I want.
The elevator stopped, and Freya exited the lift and walked to the apartment door for another scan. “Freya 117, verified,” said that same electronic voice, and the door slid open. Freya stepped into her apartment and instantly she realized something far more terrifying than the prospect of having a child. Coupling! she thought in horror. Two of the possible outcomes involved that possibility, and the thought nearly paralyzed her with fear. She reached out a hand and placed it on her desk to steady herself as the bitter taste of bile rose into her throat. Never had she spoken a single word to anyone about the dread she felt deep inside over the matter of being coupled; she feared being accused of noncompliance and reported. She knew coupling was necessary for bearing children, but she didn’t understand why it would be necessary for those not chosen for reproduction. The entire concept was disturbing. So they match you up with a mate, move you into shared residence, where you live for… Actually, she wasn’t sure what the purpose was. Freya stood there for a moment with her eyes closed, wishing and pleading to any power-that-be she would ultimately be chosen for independent living.
Freya took deep breaths, in an effort to calm herself. She told herself she had to open her eyes and move to the inbox, for they would know when she scanned in and when she checked the results. If she didn’t look at it right away, they could question her behavior and accuse her of noncompliance. Knowing this, she forced herself over to her monitor and touched the screen. After a few more deep breaths, she sat down and tapped the monitor again, on the flashing icon to reveal a message: “REPORT TO MEDICAL COMPLEX TOMORROW AT 06:00 FOR STERILIZATION.”
She sat in stunned silence. What for? What does it mean? The only thing she could clearly determine was that she hadn’t been chosen for reproduction after all, but she didn’t understand the need for sterilization. Is it so they can couple me? she thought. “Please let it be independent living. Please!” she wanted to scream, but fear alone kept her from yelling out.
She walked over to the shower and began to undress. It was not customary to shower at night, but she longed for just a few minutes alone, away from the prying eyes of the ever-present cameras. By the time the water began to spray from the showerhead, she could stifle the sobs no longer. Deep down, Freya knew that the odds of her being chosen for independent living were stacked against her; very few people were chosen for that.
She was certain that when she walked out of the apartment the next day, she would never be permitted to return to it again.
Curled up on the shower floor, with the water beating down on her body, Freya wept. She wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her spinning head on her knees as her body convulsed in rhythmic spasms. She had no thoughts of her surroundings or fear of being caught; it was not the first time she had used the sound of falling water to mask her sobs. During her first month in that residence, she’d misjudged and overrun her water rations while trying to camouflage her pain. No one had ever told her she had to hide her tears, but she was afraid that if Security reported her crying, she would be hauled in for questioning. She worried that any negative emotion would be taken as a warning sign that she was noncompliant. She even had her own doubts about herself: How can I be so upset in a perfect society anyway? Is there something wrong with me? This system operates so wonderfully for everyone else.
The ringing of the alarm jolted her off the floor, and she hurriedly turned off the water. She reached for a towel and rapidly dried herself off, certain that they’d heard her crying and were coming to arrest her. If Security was going to burst into her room, she at least wanted to be dressed, so she ran to her closet and quickly slid into her pajamas. Once she was finished dressing, she sat on the sofa and turned on her monitor. Freya knew the best thing to do was to look compliant, even if she really wasn’t.
“Remain calm. There is an unauthorized citizen in the building. To avoid further charges, leave now and head to the nearest Security station. If you do not comply, you will be arrested. I repeat—leave now and report to your nearest Security station to avoid arrest. We have your identification,” a voice commanded through the Security system.
The monitor illuminated with an image captured from one of the Security cameras, a female, lying back on the bed and a male standing near her, looking at the camera. He was shirtless, breathing heavily, his hair disheveled. “Okay!” the male said, holding his hands up as he turned to leave the apartment. The female covered her face with her pillow but not before Freya recognized her as one of her classmates, Ida.
Freya sat on the sofa, confused, and tried to calm herself down. She’d heard about males sneaking into the building, but she had never really understood why. Of course she understood the concept of sex; human reproduction was a part of the education system. She could not think of any other reason the male would have sneaked into the building. But why would they want to risk an illegal birth, an offense punishable by death? Males and females were separated in both living and education until coupling, so she wondered where and how the two had even met. Everyone was granted a few hours of free time every week, but she could not conceive how they could have formed any kind of relationship. Freya had encountered males during her own outings in her free time, but she’d never really spoken to any; frankly, she wouldn’t have had the slightest clue as to what to say. Sex sounded grotesque to her, and she couldn’t understand why anyone would want to take part in it, unless they were under state assignment to reproduce.
After the fear of being caught subsided, she began to relax a little. Once again, she pondered the concept of sex and coupling. There were really many facets to consider when it came to those chosen for reproduction. Part of it simply came down to hereditary relations: There had to be an alternation of genetic lines to avoid crossbreeding. To be chosen, one had to be a distant relative of fewer people. Even if one’s health and mental state were acceptable and preferable, that person could be passed over if they were too closely related to too many individuals. As Freya thought about it, she didn’t actually know who she was or was not related to, since the only kin she’d ever met were her parents. They were only allowed to produce one child, and they were both only children themselves. How many relatives can I possibly have? she questioned. Is that why I wasn’t chosen? A large part of her was relieved to find out, but she couldn’t help wondering why she’d been knocked off the reproduction roster.
The testing was rather simple, just a routine physical. They had taken blood and done a full-body scan, nothing out of the ordinary. The only difference she could fathom, the only factor that made the test so important that the outcome would set the rest of her life in stone, was that she had reached the level of sexual maturity favorable for reproduction. It was common knowledge that the State performed psychological testing, a large component in choosing those who would become parents, yet she hadn’t undergone such tests—unless they performed them without telling her. Maybe the decision was made before I was born, based simply on my bloodline, she reasoned. Freya had so many questions, but there was really no one to ask. Contact with her parents was permitted only once a month, and she wasn’t even sure they would give her any answers. Even if they were willing, all conversations were monitored by the State. In that perfect society of theirs, privacy was a luxury afforded to none.
Freya realized she was going to drive herself crazy if she sat and thought about it any longer. She had to find something to mentally distract her. She pulled out her tablet and searched through the games, finally settling on a crossword puzzle, which she hoped would serve as a suitable diversion and bring her some mild satisfaction. The theme of the puzzle was plants; if there was a topic Freya was confident in, it was botany and agriculture. As she completed the puzzle, she fondly recalled when she was assigned to work in the greenhouse. All children were required to perform monitored tasks before they turned 12. The tasks were necessary to test their motor skills and physical compatibility with various civil duties, so children could be placed in the correct, most suitable environment. Working in the greenhouse had instantly felt right to Freya.
It was then that another realization struck her: I’ve already been tested for everything! I just didn’t realize it at the time! They had already collected all the data they needed to place her in society, and the decision as to whether or not she would be coupled or live independently had already been made long ago. The only one who wasn’t aware of it was her. The glimmering light Freya was so desperately holding on to, the thought that she might still have a chance, might still have some say, vanished. Freya’s future had already been set in motion long ago, and there was absolutely nothing she could do about it.
Feeling powerless, she folded the sofa out into a bed. Just a moment earlier, she’d been certain she would never sleep again, but now, feeling completely drained of energy, she was ready for the rescue of slumber. Ultimately, the only choice she really had in life, the only thing she could still control, was when she fell asleep.
***
Freya awakened abruptly to the blaring of her alarm. She was surprised when she yawned, a tell-tale sign that she’d actually slept. Feeling groggy, she walked over to the monitor on the wall. Every function in the apartment was controlled through it, even the alarm; the State automated everything in an effort to maintain complete control. The system knew exactly where every single citizen needed to be and when. Citizens did not even set their own alarms; they simply had to acknowledge that they had risen from their sleep.
That morning, Freya had risen earlier than usual. With the haze of sleep still clouding her mind, she momentarily could not remember why. She reached out to touch the monitor, to view her agenda, but then she quickly pulled her hand away before activating the machine. Her mind cleared through the fog, and she recalled that she was on her way to get sterilized. A few moments passed while she collected herself. Then, knowing she could do nothing to change her circumstances, she walked to the bathroom to prepare for the day.
The small bathroom was standard for her age group, and all apartments were the same size, the amount of space the State deemed necessary for living. The shower stall, sink, and toilet were all sterile white. She washed her hair and showered rapidly, concerned that her shower the night before had already consumed too much of her water ration. Freya always did her best to keep showers less than four minutes, even though the ration allotted her six; some days, jus
t knowing she had an extra ten minutes of water left over helped her to survive emotionally.
After her quick shower, Freya stepped out and toweled off. She stood there momentarily, just looking around the bathroom, wondering if the new adult apartment would be larger. Is space conservation only for the young? Will I be given a larger space if I’m coupled? Freya shook her head, knowing she had to snap out of it. She had no control over her destiny; no one did. There was no point in making herself sick over contemplating what might or might not be. It was time for her to go and face her fate, whatever that was.
Feeling a sudden determination, she pulled her long, dark, wet hair into a braid. She didn’t know what to expect of the medical procedure but was sure it was best to pull her hair in a tight fashion behind her head. After she finished that task, she pulled a freshly pressed uniform out of the closet: a linen colored jumpsuit with a cherry blossom pattern stitched on the back. This symbol was for agricultural students only, as the cherry blossom was symbolic of her time spent being educated. It represented a good education, and also the transience of life—as her education would inevitably come to an end when she entered her civil duty. Once greenhouse workers were moved into their permanent residence, the stitched pattern would change to ivy—as it represented endurance and faithfulness—as it would be where she was to work for the rest of her days.
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