The Acceptance (The GEOs Book 1)

by Ramona Finn

  “It worked!” I said to Viv.

  She rubbed her upper arm where she’d gotten the injection. “Good. Guy was a jerk. Totally jabbed harder than he needed to.”

  Only three more names were called before my scheming paid off.

  “Viv Coder,” the scheduler called out. The surname ‘Coder’ served as a reminder of her job title. We all shared it. First names actually had to get board approval before being finalized. There were no duplicate first names among the Union workers.

  The scheduler walked us back to an exam room, eyeing me somewhat suspiciously. I smiled in response, not wanting him to know how nervous I was.

  “A doctor will be with you shortly,” he said, before turning away and closing the door behind him.

  We didn’t have to wait long for a knock on the door. I had no idea why they bothered, as they never waited for a response before coming in.

  “I’m Milo Doctor,” the man introduced himself abruptly, not even making eye contact before positioning himself at a terminal to pull up Viv’s chart. “Go ahead and have a seat.”

  Viv had already sat down on the sterile white exam table. The doctor turned from her record and examined the bones around her swollen eye. “Nothing broken.” He glanced back and forth between Viv and her chart as he continued his exam.

  “And how did this happen?”

  “She slipped at the end of her shift,” I said before Viv could open her mouth. She didn’t know I’d marked the injury as work related. The last thing we needed was for him to think Viv was trouble. Doctor bias was a major factor in treatment outcomes. “Leak somewhere in circulation or something,” Viv added. Even with her head injury, she had enough wits about her to follow my lead.

  “Always something,” he said flatly, flashing a light in Viv’s good eye. “Did you lose consciousness?” He sighed when Viv nodded. “Fine. I’m gonna have to write you a work waiver. Can’t have you staring at a screen all day with a concussion.” He turned to his terminal to input the waiver into her file. “Schedule your follow-up on your way out.”

  He made a move for the door. Without thinking, I reached for his arm.

  “Wait!” I recoiled as he turned around, a scowl on his face. “It’s just…” I began, my voice having grown quiet suddenly, “I was hoping, since I’m here anyway, maybe you could write a script for my mom, Lia Coder? She has the Cough.” If there was any shred of humanity under that white coat, he just had to help me.

  “You know the protocol.” He shrugged my hand off his arm. “If she’s in the queue, she’ll get her meds when her turn is up. If not, make her an appointment.”

  “Her normal meds aren’t working anymore. She needs something stronger,” I pleaded with him.

  “Then tell her to come in and wait for an appointment like everyone else. I’m sorry, but my hands are tied.” It was a rote response, given without enthusiasm. “Put her in the queue.”

  So, that was it then. My mom was stuck in the same spot, arguing that she didn’t have time to visit Medical and wait for appointments while Dad and I worried that she’d die if she didn’t. Ultimately, the Acceptance really might be my only option for helping her.

  In front of me, the doctor opened the door.

  “I need to refill my contraceptives!” It was suspicious at best, and ridiculous at worst, but I was desperate.

  “You’re just now remembering that you need a refill?” He raised an eyebrow.

  “Hey, if you want to explain the results of an unplanned genetic coupling to the Farrows, be my guest.”

  That got his attention. He held the door open for me, rolling his eyes and motioning down the hall like he was doing me a huge favor. “Wait in Room 6, then.”

  Don’t have to tell me twice, I thought to myself, giving Viv one last glance before making my way down the hall. She gave her standard thumbs-up, though her composure lacked its usual sass. For a moment, I was torn, not wanting to leave my friend in her hour of need. If I hadn’t chickened out of hacking myself into the Acceptance, I wouldn’t have had to, but that was a done deal.

  I sat alone in the room for a long time. My gaze wandered around the glowing walls of the pristine room, landing on the terminal. If I could just hack into the system one more time, I could get my mom into the queue for the next day, making her an appointment and then marking it as a work related follow-up. Or maybe I could convince my mom to come in with me, and then I’d pull the trick again with her already waiting. But, no, she wouldn’t go for that. She was too honest. I needed to arrange for an appointment or a script in advance or she wouldn’t go for it. I rapped my fingers against the exam table nervously, eyeing the overhead camera which I knew was recording my every move.

  Exam rooms in Medical were under constant surveillance. Cameras were located in every room to make sure no one tried to steal meds. The tapes weren’t monitored, so far as I knew, but did get reviewed when things went missing. I didn’t dare mess with the terminal while the camera was rolling, though—my sudden appointment might be just enough to get someone to review the tape unexpectedly.

  A knock on the door startled me and a woman about my mom’s age entered. “I’m Nari. I’ll be doing your exam today.” She’d smiled as she’d spoken, shaking my hand. She sat down at the terminal and pulled up my chart. I held my breath, knowing she’d see I wasn’t really due for a refill.

  “Hmm,” she said, her lips pursed. “Says here you’re not due for another two weeks.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” I tried my best to sound remorseful. “I can’t find my pack. Must have lost it in the halls somewhere.” I hoped I sounded convincing. I could only make this work if I could get her to leave the room.

  Nari sighed. I could tell she didn’t believe me, but it was no use trying to call my bluff. If I walked out of here without a prescription and I was telling the truth, the consequences could be dire. Before leaving the room, Nari put the camera in Privacy Mode from her terminal so that I could change into the white robes used during female exams.

  “Selling meds on the black market is an automatic demotion,” she cautioned me softly. I wasn’t used to such a kind tone coming from a doctor’s mouth, but her eyes mirrored her intonation and I realized she was acting in my best interest. “Besides being extremely dangerous for the buyer, you know your prescription is tailored to your own genetic profile.” It was the same lecture doctors gave to students when we went through Sex Ed.

  “I’m not selling them, I promise.” This time, I was telling the truth, but I could tell she didn’t believe me. It didn’t matter, though—all I needed was for her to leave the room so I could “change.”

  As soon as the door clicked shut, I ran to the terminal. Changing was the only time anyone had any privacy in Medical’s exam areas, and even then it was only for a few minutes. And a few minutes were all I needed to get the job done. I scanned the list of names and ailments, choosing one that was minor so as to do the least amount of damage possible while still getting my mom the new appointment she needed. My hands flew across the keyboard like they had a mind of their own, and then it was done. Lia Coder had an appointment to see a doctor in two days, for follow-up on a work related injury, and with the way I’d worked the system, she’d only lose one day of work—she could deal with that.

  My victory was short-lived. Suddenly, a verification tab opened up, asking me to input my mom’s personal verification code to save the appointment—without it, this slot would disappear as soon as I closed the screen. And my mom had never shared that information with me—she was too honest, and probably would have guessed that I’d have tried something like this if she had. The only way for my mom to get in for a new appointment and a new script was, as she’d told me more than once, to come in to Medical, make an appointment that could be pushed back for hours, if not days, and sit and wait. And she wouldn’t do that.

  Things really were hopeless, I realized. I balled my fists, ready to pound the keyboard in a fit of rage. That was when Nari came back
in.

  Chapter Six

  Normally, when a doctor re-enters a room, they go through health containment protocol: Wash hands, put on gloves, re-activate camera. Staring open-mouthed at my still-clothed form seated at her terminal, Nari did none of these. Instead, she shut the door behind her and leaned in, wagging a finger at me like a mother scolding a youngling.

  “I knew it! I knew you were selling meds on the black market! I’m going to have to report you—” She moved toward the intercom by the front door, but I was faster. Before she could hit the button, I pushed my way between her and the wall.

  “No! I promise!” I pleaded with her, “Please don’t call the EFs! I’m not selling my meds. I’m trying to get care for my mother. She’s sick, and I can’t get an appointment. Here—check the terminal if you don’t believe me!”

  Nari eyed me suspiciously, pointing to the exam table. “Sit.” I obeyed. She pulled up her terminal’s history—I hadn’t had a chance to wipe it before she’d come in—and sighed. “Okay. I believe you.”

  My shoulders slumped as relief washed over my body. It was short-lived.

  “But you’re not going to get her care.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she cut me off. “No.” Her tone was sharp like the edge of a knife, but it lacked the authority I would have expected from a doctor. The sharpness wasn’t meant for me. Still, it stung. “No, you won’t get her care, not here.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She rubbed the back of her neck wearily. For the first time in my whole life, I saw humanity in a white coat. “Twenty shifts ago, we were raided by the Rejs.”

  My heart leapt into my throat. The Rejs were a group of people who’d been banished from the Geos. They were a cautionary tale told to children to get them to behave. The idea that you could get enough strikes to be kicked out of the Geos was a nightmare right of passage for the young.

  But I’d never really seen one, or heard of a time when they’d attacked the Geos so directly. Most stories made them seem like a distant threat. An enemy less powerful than any of the protections Farrow and the Emergency Force provided.

  “An explosion tore through Med Storage, injuring several of us. My sister was one of them,” she said as she lowered her eyes, avoiding my stunned gaze. “I tried to use my credentials to get her care. It didn’t work. I’m a doctor, and I couldn’t even get her into surgery. She was mutilated. Scarred for life.”

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered. It was everything I could offer, and not enough at the same time.

  “Yes, well.” She wiped her hands on the front of her lab coat. “Nothing to be done about it. The damage is still being repaired, and supplies are short. We simply don’t have enough to treat everyone, and…” She left the rest unsaid, but it was clear. Elites took priority over Union workers. I’d tried to hack my mother into treatment for nothing.

  Nari lifted a hand to turn the cameras back on, then hesitated. Instead, she leaned in and spoke in a voice so low that I almost wasn’t sure that she’d spoken at all. “There is a way you can help your mother.”

  I nodded, afraid to say anything in response, lest it break whatever spell was making her speak. “There’s a healer off grid, in the upper Geos. Goes by Wallace. He uses biomeds,” she warned. Biomeds were an outlawed practice. The Farrows and other scientists deemed them unreliable at best, and unsafe at the worst. “But maybe it’s a chance you want to take. You have to keep quiet about it, but if you go looking for him, he’ll find you. No one can know I told you this, though. I’d be demoted, or worse.”

  Banished to the Above, I finished the sentence in my own head, afraid to say it out loud. I nodded. “I promise.”

  She seemed to accept my response, turning away from the terminal. “Now, get changed.” She pointed to the gown, still laying folded on the shelf by the exam table. I looked at her, shocked that she would still go ahead with the exam until she pointed above her head at the camera. It would look suspicious if my appointment ended without an exam. I reached for the gown and turned my back to her as I changed. When I was done, I heard the clicking of fingers on a keyboard. The cameras were back on.

  When the exam was over, Nari turned off the camera again. She entered my script into my file reluctantly, printing it out so that I could take it to fulfillment. “If there’s something else you’re not telling me…” She locked eyes with me as I reached for the paper, holding onto her side a second more than was necessary. “It’s not worth it, whatever else you’re planning. You could lose food privileges for your entire family, or be demoted to smaller housing. Your choices affect more than just you, you know.”

  I didn’t say anything. Not only because I didn’t want to validate her suspicions, but because I didn’t know what to say.

  Nari was right—one misstep, and my mother could end up worse off than she was now. That combined with my earlier chat with Viv had given even more credence to my fear of the Acceptance. How stupid had it been, to think I could just fiddle with the averages and end up surviving? My mouth went dry just thinking about it.

  Nari’s eyes were still locked on mine, as if she could see into my mind if she tried hard enough. She wasn’t going to let me leave this room without an answer.

  “I’ll be careful,” I promised.

  It must have been enough, because she stood to leave the room. “You have two minutes to change. No more funny business.”

  The click of the door latching behind her was deafening. It reverberated through my body as I looked longingly at the terminal. It was a click that echoed what I’d feared when I’d first walked into Medical with Viv: I’d come here for no reason. The Geos held no hope for my mother.

  Chapter Seven

  I couldn’t wait to get out of Medical. I dressed quickly, glancing only once more at Nari’s terminal before showing myself out.

  As I made my way through the waiting room, the scheduler stopped me. “Hey you!” I held my breath as he flagged me down, certain he’d figured out that I’d jumped Viv in the queue. Getting caught could mean fewer food vouchers, or being bumped to worse housing. Internally, I chastised myself. I’d jumped at the chance to help and acted without thinking it through or figuring out what I’d say if I got caught like this. I needed to come up with a cover, and fast.

  “Your friend got out almost an hour ago,” he said, eyeing me suspiciously.

  “Y-yeah.” I swallowed, trying to steady my breath. I needed to seem confident if I was going to talk my way out of this one. “I figured she’d be out before me. They wanted her to go home and rest.”

  “And you’re still here why?”

  “Well, if you must know, I needed to refill my contraceptives. I mentioned it to the doctor who examined my friend and he said they’d go ahead and get my exam over with.” That did it. The scheduler’s face broke out in crimson hues.

  “On your way then,” he sputtered. “And hurry it up.”

  It wasn’t until the door clicked shut behind me that I let out a sigh of relief. That was close, I thought to myself. Too close. I made a mental note not to mess with the medical queue again any time soon. The last thing I needed to do right now was draw attention to myself.

  I came to the end of the medical wing and paused. Should I go back to the atrium? No. It would be best to lie low for a while. I turned right and made my way toward the nearest transport station. Some of the coders with better housing assignments were able to walk to their living quarters, but not me. I had to take the tunnel shuttle.

  Union workers who lived in the outer quarters were given a limited number of travel waivers. One to get you to work, and one to get you back again. That was another reason so many of us spent our free time in the atrium. There was no way to save up transport waivers for trips to visit friends who lived further away.

  I approached the transport terminal and scanned my transportation waiver. The screen lit up green and emitted a chipper ding to let me know my waiver had been accepted. The turnstyle that limited access based on
waivers was unlocked, and I made my way across the concrete platform to wait for the shuttle.

  The shuttles ran based on the number of people waiting for a particular section, so workers living in those areas that were more densely populated made it home sooner. My area of the Geos was sparsely populated, being one of the oldest sections of the Geos. Though you could earn enough waivers to move to better living quarters, my family had struggled since Mother became ill. That was part of the reason joining the Acceptance was so terrifying for me. With a 60% chance of survival, there was a serious risk that I would leave my parents to live with even less to get by on, and it only fueled my desire to find another way to help her.

  The other reason that my area of the Geos was so sparsely populated was because those who couldn’t afford to move up to better housing all suffered the same fate after years in one of the wettest areas of the Geos—the Cough. If you couldn’t move up, you died in that wing. Some faster than others.

  The screech of the shuttle brakes on the scrap metal track jolted me from my thoughts. The shuttle door slid open, creaking with age. Sometimes I wondered how many more runs these old tin cans had in them. Newer metals were reserved for things like Medical and the Greens. Nothing down here got repaired until it reached dire malfunction. I held my breath and prayed the shuttle would hold for this trip, anyhow—something I did every time I crossed the threshold.

  Inside, it was standing room only, not unusual for this part of the day. I grabbed hold of the nearest overhead bar and braced myself as the shuttle pulled out of the station.

  Time was hard to gauge beyond the workshift, with all of our light being artificial, but it was well past dinnertime when I finally made it to my living quarters. My father was in the main living space, sitting at the home terminal which had been assigned to my mother when she’d become too ill to show up for her shift. Even when we were dying, they expected us to work if we wanted to eat. Another reason that the idea of becoming part of the Elite was so appealing to the general population. Elite never had to work, even when they were well.