I shouldn’t be afraid of him anymore, but I am, because he’s the one who can still save Logan. He can make an exception.
I don’t know how I’m going to convince him yet, but getting close to him seems key. The thought of doing that, of pretending I admire him and will do anything he says, makes my stomach churn.
But it’s my only option.
*
After breakfast, Cadet Waller leads us down a long stretch of corridor outside the cafeteria. We’re all quiet, unsure where we’re headed. Ariadne chews on her fingernails. Oliver frowns at everything, from the floor that makes our footsteps echo to the walls without windows.
That’s the strangest thing about this place: the confinement. I’m free here, but if I were to run, I wouldn’t be able to find a way out.
The corridor ends, and we step into air that’s more open than before, onto a curved path with a left-hand railing. I set my palms on the railing to peer over the side.
“Welcome to Training Division,” Cadet Waller says.
The deck below us is a bit far, but not so far that I can’t make out details. It’s a wide-open space set up like a maze. Every compartment seems to be designated for a different activity.
In one corner, a group of people in gray and green—officials-in-training, maybe—throw knives at lit-up targets and wrestle each other on mats. In another compartment, the floor is a screen, and people walk across the screen directing small rectangular bots in some sort of battle scenario. In a third area, children sit wearing steel helmets inside glowing blue, see-through capsules, probably reciting statistics and chemical equations. I’ve seen pictures of capsules like these in school.
“Intelligence machines,” Oliver whispers, noticing them too.
The machines interact with their passengers, feeding knowledge straight into their brains as if they’re injecting a smart gene. Students here don’t have to memorize facts like we did. They sit through sessions on various subjects inside these machines, and when they’re finished, they remember everything.
“You’ll find facilities for youth education and career training in this division, which spans multiple decks.” Cadet Waller points to rows of identical holes in the wall far across from us, which must be windows into rooms. She gestures for us to follow her along the path.
“Today is the first day of your Extraction training,” she says as we step off the railing path into another corridor. “As Commander Charlie explained last night, the purpose of training is to make you useful Core citizens. You were each picked for a particular skill: half of you, for your intelligence; the other half, for your physical strength. But those aren’t the only skills we want you to cultivate.”
I glance at the other Extractions, categorizing them in my mind: the brawnier ones—though they still seem starved and skinnier than they should be—in the physical group; the skinnier, shorter people in the smart group. I’m willing to bet the Developers didn’t pick me for my physique.
“For the upcoming week,” Cadet Waller says, “each half will focus on the skill you were not picked for during your training sessions. We want all citizens to be well-rounded, no matter what working position you end up in.
“At the end of the week, your Promise score will be tested to determine whether you are ready to begin your work as a citizen. This is a score of your well-roundedness, which helps us identify your skill sets. For example, whether you’d be more useful as a scientist or as a soldier. Your score can even help us know how genetically advanced your offspring might be, depending on what sort of person you procreated with.”
A couple girls giggle at that.
“An overall Promise score can fall between zero and a hundred, though there are many layers to consider,” Cadet Waller says as we move through a pair of doors. “The average score in your group is forty-three. By the end of the week, you should all have scores of eighty or higher.”
I run my teeth over my bottom lip. Instructors have never told me my score, though it must’ve been somewhat high to get me down here, to the Core. But I can’t be sure I’m anywhere close to eighty.
We move through a set of sliding doors. “Sit wherever you like,” Cadet Waller says.
Rows of identical chairs fill the room, facing a wall with five evenly spaced doors. I sink into a chair between Oliver and Ariadne. The leather sticks to my legs.
“What happens if our score doesn’t hit eighty?” Oliver asks under his breath.
My eyes flit to Cadet Waller. She didn’t say, really. She said we should have scores of eighty or higher, but what does that mean? I’m afraid to ask.
“I don’t know,” I say. “But the Developers wouldn’t have picked us if they didn’t think we could raise our scores that high.”
“They make mistakes sometimes,” he says.
I think of Logan. Of Laila. Two people they should’ve saved. “Yes, I suppose they do,” I say quietly.
Cadet Waller clears her throat to get everyone’s attention again. “For today,” she says, “your training session will be a bit different from what I described earlier. We won’t be splitting you up. You will participate in something that’s available only to Core citizens. It sets us apart from those who reside in the outer sectors. It will, we hope, help you feel more like you’re one of us.”
She smiles before glancing down at her tablet and tapping the screen. “I will call you in groups of five. You’ll each enter your own door. Jude, Ariadne, Ron, Karen, and Stephen are first.”
Ariadne grips the armrests of her chair. She swallows and stands, not looking at me. The five doors slide open, and she moves through the second one on the left and is gone.
“I hope it won’t be like yesterday,” Oliver says. His face is a bit pale.
“I don’t think it will be,” I say, though hope is a safer word. I twist my hands in my lap “We’re safe now,” I add. I don’t know whether I’m saying it to convince him or myself.
He presses his mouth into a line and doesn’t reply.
*
Cadet Waller calls my name in the next group of five. I take a breath and push off my chair. Oliver watches me leave with a glossy look in his eyes.
Through one of the doors, I find myself alone at the end of a corridor. The hum of fluorescents grinds in my brain.
This will be fine, whatever it is. I’ll handle it. The first step to getting anywhere in the Core, before I can even think about gaining an audience with Commander Charlie and convincing him to make an exception for Logan, is doing well in training. Proving I can be a useful, obedient citizen.
Click. Chirp.
A panel in the wall in front of me slides to the left, revealing an empty, stark white chamber.
“Enter,” a sweet, computerized voice says.
I hold my breath and step inside. The panel slides shut behind me.
A metallic, antiseptic smell fills my nostrils. I scan the rounded chamber for a crack, a handle, a button. Nothing.
There’s a whirwhirwhir, and a green hue slides over my body, giving my skin a tingling sensation.
“Scanning for imperfections,” the sweet voice says.
I don’t know what that means, but it doesn’t give me a warm, fuzzy feeling inside.
“Scan complete.”
The green fades, and a crack appears out of nowhere in the wall in front of me, splitting open the chamber. Beyond lies a new room with the same blue fluorescent lights as the hallway behind me.
I take a small, cautious step forward.
Two figures step in front of me, blocking my view. They are almost identical. Both female, both with blue eyes and black curls, both wearing white surgical caps and gowns. My heartbeat stumbles. They’re nurses.
“Welcome,” Nurse One says with a smile. She slips her fingers around my wrist and pulls me into the room. “You’re Clementine, right? You have such lovely hair.”
The second nurse brushes my jawline with her thumb. I flinch. “Your skin would be nice without that nasty scar,” s
he says.
I don’t know what to say to that.
The room I’ve entered is small, with a blue hue and a domed shape to the ceiling, similar to my bedroom. Steel cabinets and a sink lean against the left wall. Silver medical instruments rest in containers on the sink counter, and a metal examination table sits straight ahead of me.
I swallow hard, fighting down the worry rising like bile in my throat.
My whole body tenses.
“You’re a bit quiet, eh?” Nurse One smiles wider. “No need to be shy!”
“Sorry,” I manage. “I just … Why am I here? What’s going on?”
“We’ll let Surgeon Pond explain,” the second nurse says. She shouts over her shoulder, “Sir!”
I clench my teeth. Needles and examination tables are only used for treating infections and Unstables on the Surface. But things are different here, so I shouldn’t be afraid.
There’s a click in the wall.
Nurse One spins to a slot like the one in my bedroom. She removes a see-through, green tablet. On the opposite wall, a door slides open, and a man in a white coat who must be Surgeon Pond steps into the room.
“Welcome to the Core, Clementine,” he says, his voice too cheery. “How do you like it so far?”
No one starves here, and I’m far from the moon, and everyone lives a long life. But there aren’t any windows, either, and every door leads to another corridor. This place is freedom and suffocation at the same time.
But all I say is: “It’s wonderful.” This feels like another test, and that’s what Commander Charlie would want to hear, if he were listening. There’s no way to be certain he isn’t.
“We’re glad you think so.” The surgeon moves to Nurse One, who hands him the tablet. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.…”
“It’s mostly standard,” the second nurse says. “Though I’m sure you’ll want to do something about that scar.”
“Definitely.”
“Um.” I clear my throat. “What’s going on?”
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing to fret about,” Nurse One says.
“We’re here to help clean you up and make sure you’re healthy,” Surgeon Pond says, handing the tablet back to Nurse One. “Every new Extraction receives a special procedure—a simple one. The most important thing we do is speed up growth of your muscle fat so you’ll be a healthier weight, and stronger.”
“What about my scar?” I ask.
“Well, we also use the opportunity to clear up slight imperfections, things like bruises and birthmarks. Scars you shouldn’t have anyway. Because who likes scars? We’ll help you look as beautiful as you were meant to be. It will help you feel that you belong here.”
I force my lips into a tight smile. But I don’t want to change; I want Logan to recognize me when I see him again.
Plus, something tells me there’s more to the reason behind the procedure than making us feel like we fit in here. I want to press the matter, but Surgeon Pond is already heading back out the door.
“Show her in the mirror, will you?” he says. “And help her into a surgical gown. I’ll be right back.”
He exits. Nurse Two moves to a cabinet and returns with a rectangular mirror the size of a textbook.
Nurse One helps her slide the tablet into a slot in the mirror.
With the press of a button, the mirror hums and glows red around the edges.
Nurse Two places it in my hands, not seeming to notice they’re trembling.
I stare at my reflection. The bags under my blue eyes are prominent. I bite hard on my pale, flaking lips. My red-orange curls are wound with old, crusted dirt that won’t come out with water. The scar trails along my right jaw line. For now, I’m still the small girl with mud on her cheekbones, who somehow got lucky.
Nurse One taps the edge of the mirror, and the image dissolves into another. “This is how you will look after.”
Now my skin appears smooth with a soft pink hue, no longer covered with a layer of dust. My lips aren’t chapped anymore. My curls seem fresh and elegant, flowing about my shoulders. The scar has disappeared. When I part my lips, my teeth are half a shade whiter.
The changes are simple, but it still looks like someone else. A girl who never felt the butt of an official’s gun slam into her jaw when he caught her trying to climb to the school rooftop. A girl who doesn’t know what it’s like to live on almost nothing, afraid her nightmares about the moon will come to life, afraid she’ll die in a gas chamber at twenty.
I’m not this girl.
But … deep down … I almost want to be.
“It’s all right to be nervous,” Nurse One says, sliding the mirror out of my grasp. “I promise, you’ll feel wonderful, and it won’t hurt a bit.”
I’m not sure I believe her.
But refusing to do this would make me seem disobedient. I have to do what Commander Charlie wants. I have to get on his good side, or he won’t listen when I beg him to save Logan.
And … maybe this will be worth it.
I tuck a curl behind my ear. This isn’t a big change, after all. I’ll always be Clementine, no matter how I look. And if Logan is the boy I know, he won’t care if my appearance is a bit different when I see him again.
“Here, let’s get you into a special gown for the procedure.” Nurse Two moves to a drawer in one of the cabinets. “You can leave your shirt on.”
When she comes back with the gown, I let her ease it over my head. I don’t know if I’ll love how I look after this, but I’ll have to learn to love it. This is the life I won and the life I wanted.
The nurses tie the back with easy, quick movements.
“If you’ll please climb onto the table,” Nurse One says.
I lie back on the metal. A small mesh pillow cushions my head, but the comfort doesn’t ease me all the way. My heart pounds in my chest, but also in my arms, legs, hands, and head.
Surgeon Pond hums as he reenters the room. Cabinets open, and metal instruments click and clang. Water runs in the sink.
“We’re ready,” Nurse Two says.
I hear the sound of suction. Nurse One appears, holding a clear mask in her gloved fingertips with a wide, purple tube attached to its end. She fits the mask over my nose and mouth, trapping my lips with plastic.
“Deep breaths,” she says.
A sweet smell fills my nostrils.
“Scalpel.” The surgeon’s voice.
I press my hands into the metal, so I won’t decide at the last second to rip off the gas mask and not go through with this. But my limbs are already softening, my eyelids drooping. I couldn’t fight if I wanted to.
It’ll be worth it, I tell myself as the edges of my vision blur.
Pond’s face leans over me.
I see a flash of silver, a surgical mask, blue lights.
They darken …
… darken …
… darken …
Then nothing.
11
Fingers guide the rim of a cup to my lips.
“Drink up, honey.”
The liquid is pink and sweet.
Dots speckle my vision. I blink, and the world clears a little.
Two drip bags hang on poles to the right of me, one with blood and the other with clear fluid, both connected to IV lines. My legs hang over the side of a thin mattress, but I don’t remember sitting up.
I’m wearing a purple bodysuit made of stretchy leather fabric. One sleeve is rolled up to my shoulder, revealing a thin strip of gauze in the crook of my arm. A blue curtain hangs around my bed, and quiet speech and movements come from beyond it, all around me. They must have moved me to a different room after the procedure.
Nurse One takes the cup away and smiles. “How do you feel?”
With a hesitant finger, I touch the skin of my face. It feels soft, smooth, and shiny. Unnatural. The heartbeat is loud in my ears, a touch faster than usual.
“How do you feel?” the nurse asks again.
“Awake,” I say.
“No hurts? No aches?”
I take a breath and stretch my fingers and toes. But there’s nothing. My body feels normal—better than normal, even.… Stronger. Adrenaline flows in a calm, steady stream through my veins.
”I feel fine.”
“Wonderful!” The nurse pulls my sleeve down. “You’re free to go, then. You have free time for the rest of the day. I can bring you a mirror if you’d like to see how your surgery turned out. You won’t find any scars on your face.”
That makes my stomach squeeze. I’m not sure I’m ready just yet to see what I really look like without my scars.
“I think I’d like to wait,” I say.
“Whatever you’d like, dear.”
When I stand, my legs are steady. To my body, it’s like I was never asleep. One second, my eyes closed; the next, they opened.
“How long was I out?” I ask.
“The main procedure lasted three hours, but we kept you overnight to fix more minor concerns.”
I momentarily forget how to breathe. “I thought it was a simple operation. That’s what you said.”
“It was. The muscle growth takes time, that’s all.” She gives my head a light pat.
I forgot about the muscle growth. Still, I can’t believe they used the word simple and then kept me all day and night.
It makes me wonder if they lied about something, or left out part of what the operation involved. It makes me wonder if I look completely different.
The nurse pushes the curtain back, and I see that there are other curtains in the room, each probably hiding another bed with another Extraction. She tucks her arm through mine and leads me through a door into a hallway.
It’s okay, I tell myself. Whatever they did to me, everything is going to be okay.
Please, please, please be okay.
“I hope I’ll see you again, Clementine!” The nurse waves me off.
I don’t say anything to that.
Down the corridor, I come to a glass window. For a moment I pause, staring at a spot to the left of the glass. If I flit my eyes less than an inch to the right, I’ll see myself. I’ll see my new face, a face Logan might not recognize.
Extraction Page 10