The Rejects

Chapter 3 - Ellie: June 11, 3032

     My internal monologue typically goes something like this: You can't say that. Think, what is the opposite of what you want to say? How does this correlate to Imperium's values? How can you make the teacher fawn over you just a little more by twisting your opinion?

      It's an unending cycle in the Academy, the school preparing students for higher-ranking positions in the government. One faulty move and you're done. A failed student is substantially worse than not being admitted in the first place; once you've wronged Imperium, tricked them into thinking you can be someone you're not, you're "dropped," as they call it. You've consciously given up your right to live with the highest members of society, and that shows more idiocy than not working hard enough to pass the entrance exam.

        "Why is it vital to present yourself as visually perfect as well as mentally?" The professor's shoes click loudly against the tiled floor as she walks up and down the rows of desks. My internal monologue commences with a pang of frustration. Because, Professor, you're all superficial brats who believe that perfection is required for someone to be worth listening to and are ignorant to the point of no return. You're all so stupid that you judge intelligence based on our faces when its our words that matter. It's a hideous justification that silences the lower classes who have to deal with your thoughtless announcements day after day. I scribble my thoughts down on paper as quickly as possible, getting my frustration out to make up for what I'm about to say.

      I raise my hand, dropping my pen to the desk as others finish writing their own ideas.
   
     "Elle," the professor says, and I paste a smile on my face.

      "I apologize Professor, but it's Ellie," I correct, folding my hands in front of me. "Physical perfection is simply to show our importance. We must convince the lower members of society that we are worth listening to. It's also a mark of professionalism, and can drastically help us earn the respect we've worked for."

      The professor raises her eyebrows, pursing her lips. She tears her eyes from me without a response and surveys the room before a look of pleasant surprise falls over her face.

      "Aidan, what do you think?"

      My jaw tightens and I take a deep breath. Calm down.

      "In order to retain the respect of our subordinates, we can't rely on our acts of intelligence," Aidan explains from somewhere behind me. I don't turn around, not confident in my ability to hold back a glare. "Physical attributes are an easier comparison. They'll view us as we are without needing to understand why we are. They don't know any better."

     "That's what I was looking for." The professor nods, and I focus my eyes on my notebook. I lean forward and scrawl Aidan's words down begrudgingly. "Good job, Aidan. Now, write an essay to the prompt displayed on the board. Five paragraphs minimum, at least eight sentences each, understood?"

      I flip the page and glance up, preparing myself for yet another assignment full of lies. One essay a day, and somehow each assignment is just like the last. A sickening test in which we must prove that we comprehend the beliefs that are expected of us. There is only one right solution in the Academy.

      Today's prompt is "Who in society is most to thank for our raging success in economy, health, and happiness?" This essay - a speech, really - is part of our preparation for graduation. It's just a trick, something meant to weed out those who don't understand that the answer is always the government. They are in full control, so there is no other plausible response - in their eyes, at least. They blatantly gloss over the fact that our economy runs on the payments of government workers while the lower positions leave people without the money to afford even the most basic of items. They ignore that healthcare is meant solely for the wealthy, and if you haven't grown up in a highly privileged, rich white family, sickness means you should give up hope. It's said that we're all happy when in reality, I know of fellow students who fear what could happen if they lose their position in the Academy, longing to work with their actual interests that just won't cut it in the end.