Project 27

The soft snores and deep breathing of the others kept a steady rhythm in my mind, my eyes drooping but never closing. I wished that I could take a walk so badly. A breath of fresh air to enlighten myself to the world around me--just one more time before tomorrow.

But that's impossible. They would never give us permission.

Tomorrow. I turned in my narrow, lumpy bed, until I was staring at the ceiling. Tomorrow would be everything. And yet, all the others were sound asleep, looking as peaceful as we all did before we knew why we were here. Before we knew what the world really was.

While still in our younger years, none of us truly realized that before we knew it, our entire lives would soon be chosen by the government. We would be their slaves. Our spouses would be picked for us, based only on any medical value--besides that, it was random. We would be forced to have children, and from the moment of birth, they would no longer be ours. The government would take them from us, our flesh and blood, and keep them in homes until they were ready to go to school. They would be just another item in the world--servants to our government.

My friend, Taylor, slept beside me, and I noticed that her breathing was ragged, unlike the others. Her face was slightly contorted in a painful and anxious expression. I stared at her for a second.

"Taylor."

Her eyes opened, and when she saw me looking, she sat up, supporting her head with her hand, and her elbow pressed against the pillow. "Hi," she said, swallowing and looking nervously around the room.

She had been sleeping before, tossing and turning. Her dark hair stuck to her face in a sweaty mess, and from what I could see in the darkness, she was frantic. Anxious, just like me. How could the others be so soundly asleep when they knew that tomorrow, we would be officially controlled and distributed?

I quietly sat up, looking at all the others in our room for as far as I could see, and listening to see if they were asleep. "You're nervous about tomorrow," I stated after resting my head onto the pillow again.

"We all are, aren't we?" she said, rubbing her eyes and shaking her head. I pulled the stiff, uncomfortable covers over my shoulders to block the cold air from the fan above me. There was no way I could live like this for the rest of our high school years.

"They're choosing careers tomorrow," I said through the darkness, the glint of her eyes barely visible as she straightened her position. We both knew that this useless conversation wouldn't do us any good.

"Taylor, I can't live like this. I can't live in a world where our lives are controlled by other people."

She sighed, but not like she agreed. She was frustrated. I talked about this too much, but I could never get through to her.

"Stop. Just--stop, okay? The world isn't going to be perfect. You have to deal with it. I know, I'm nervous about tomorrow, too. But there's nowhere for you to go and it's stupid to even think about it."

What she said wasn't an insult. She had a point, but I couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like to have some sort of freedom like they supposedly used to have. Where, if we wanted to do something as simple as taking a walk, we could do it without permission from anyone.
But she was right. It was stupid to even think about it.

I closed my eyes and imagined the breath of night on my face, disguised as a cool breeze, and the trees softly rustling. I visualized the freedom to laugh, to smile, and to just...be free. That was one of my many impossible fantasies that got further away the older I got.

"Try to get some sleep," I told Taylor after a few moments, my eyelids closing and my head already nodding. She cleared her throat, and I could barely see her nod.

"You too." With no further words, we fell asleep.



Our alarm clocks went off at seven thirty the next morning, a reminder of the haunting day to come. With just one glance at the rest of the students' faces, I knew that this was going to be a traumatizing day.

We showered and dressed in our coded clothing, me wearing black slacks and a dark gray coat over a thin white shirt, along with dirty tennis shoes. The rest of the girls wore similar clothes, all of the same neutral color scheme and clothing types.

Cereal bars were passed around as we walked silently to the gymnasium where we usually had our fitness sections every week. The machines had been moved slightly to the side of the room, where, in the middle, stood Principal Connors.

Connors, as we called him, had slicked-back, light brown hair, trying hopelessly to cover his conspicious bald spot. In the few social times we had with each other, he was always the laughingstock of the school, despite his power and control he had over all of us.

We all filled the seats in the gym, Taylor and I sitting next to each other in the second row. Connors gave everyone his snake-like stare, as if he would pounce and kill you in a second's time. This would be our first Choosing, their first disgusting choice that they would make for us to start claiming our lives.

After we had all sat down, Connors started to speak in his loud, wobbly voice.

"As you all know, today is your first Choosing. The elite team of Choosers will decide your career for you, and this will be your occupation for the rest of your life after you get out of this school."

He said this firmly, despite the shakiness in his voice. "We will call you, one by one, and imprint you with your career. We will start with the first row."

The echoing of his voice seemed to vibrate against the walls for many moments, reflecting in our minds and telling us over and over again. This will be your occupation for the rest of your life after you get out of this school.

Only silence was heard after he had finished speaking. He whispered something to a woman next to him, who held the Imprinter in her visibly bony fingers. She nodded, staring at the first person who would be called.

"Aaron Kensington."

Aaron stood up, trembling, and walked stiffly to Connors and the woman. She gave him a sickly sweet smile, her Imprinter in hand, and grabbed his wrist, pressing and holding it to his skin. He had a blank expression the entire time, and when she let go, he turned and sat down without even glancing at his career.

As he walked back, something caught my eye. Something peculiar. The side doors closest to me were open. Empty. There weren't any guards protecting it.

I tensed up.

As they called the next name, Taylor turned to see what I was looking at, and her grip on my arm--which I hadn't noticed until now--went limp. Her mouth opened a little, as if she was going to say something, but she closed it.

I turned to look at her, but she wasn't looking at me. She shook her head, the slightest and vaguest bit, to tell me that no. I would surely get myself killed if I ran out of the door.

She dug her nails into my wrist, like a warning. I did nothing. All I could do was stare at the empty space. I felt dizzy, unsteady--but strong. Full of adrenaline.

As Connors continued to call the names, I veered my gaze from the doors to the row in front of me. I sat right next to the aisle, and it wouldn't be hard to sprint to the doors.

But how far would I get?

Something was wrong. Something was terribly wrong. They would never leave the side doors unguarded--not in a million years. A few of the other kids around me were staring at the doors as well. I had to make a move.

Live as a slave, or die free?

And I ran.

I stood up as quickly as I can, jumped over the steps, and sprinted toward the doors. Chaos erupted as I pumped my arms and neared the doors. Cheering was heard, and I could feel Taylor's eyes on the back of my head as I ran. But one thing was heard clearer than any of them--Connors' bloodcurdling scream.

"Get her!"