In Case of Rejection

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

Matthew pushed his way through the long red curtains, stepping through into the wings of the stage. He made it to the edge unscathed, a few feet away from others manning the technology behind the broadcast, focusing on their clipboards and glowing earpieces. A few Bots stood alongside too, guarding Brick, should anything happen.

But they weren't on guard. They were quiet, humming internally. Whispering. Brick sat in a big red chair, which Matthew didn't recognize as being from the school. He almost laughed at the idea of having the thing transported, just for Brick. Pathetic.

Matthew bit his lip, tuning into the conversation. He peeked past the curtain and caught the sea of faces, the flashes of camera lenses. The way the crowd was so silent.

"Civil unrest is patriotic. It's a sign that you care about your government and your sector, and we all appreciate it. We do," Brick crossed his legs, holding up his hands and making a figure with them.

"We love that you all care about the state of New America. It's very... heartwarming," Brick said, stiffly, lying through his teeth. It made Matthew feel sick.

"This is an open forum type conversation, so we will be taking questions now," Brick pulled the microphone away from his mouth. He looked at the audience, indignantly. Intimidation was his key goal.

The crowd was silent. Rightfully so.

Matthew suddenly wished he was in the audience. But he couldn't change that now.

"I see, lady over there. Come on up," Brick said.

The audience stirred as the woman moved through them. She was older, a few years more than Matthew's mother, he figured. She edged through the aisles and walked up the stairs alongside the stage.

"Hello ma'am," Brick said as she approached the microphone. She breathed into the mic a moment, steadying herself.

"What about my family?" She asked. "I haven't seen my daughter in four days. I don't know where she is, I assume she was already transported. I want to see her again."
Brick nodded, smiling as he did so.

"Well, that wasn't a question..." he started, in that stupid, painfully sarcastic way.

"Family is a priority. This is the beginning of your new life, not the end of it. So yes, I am sure you will see her again."

The woman nodded, thanking him briefly, before she was ushered off stage.

"I think it's important to remind you all that going Blue is the best thing you can do. For your country, and for yourself. It's... a whole new life," Brick said, his voice light on the last few words. Matthew shook his head to himself, pressing his fist up against his lips. He couldn't take it any longer.

And with that sudden rush of adrenaline, Matthew pushed through the curtains and stepped out onto the stage. His footsteps echoed across the platform, and Brick turned in his seat. The crew stirred in the wings, the crowd hushed. It must've been the blood on his shoes. He was there in ten short steps, reaching the microphone on the end. He almost smiled, knowing he had the entire world in the palm of his hand. He might've if he wasn't still thinking of the sick look on Jason's face. The puddle of blood in Principal Evans's office...

"I have a question," Matthew said, speaking directly into the microphone, turning to face Brick directly. 

The man's face was cruelly pale, the most drastic expression Matthew had ever seen him wear, almost like he might drop dead at any moment. And then, like he never had before, Matthew beamed.

"Why don't you tell them about what they're really getting into?" Matthew asked.

"That the tech is bad, and that going Blue means being a test subject. It means giving your life to Sector 3," Matthew said, and the back of his neck singed. He shook violently, looking back at Brick once more, noticing the sliver of gray in his palm. His face was unbearably stern, but Matthew's whole body felt on fire again. He clutched his stomach and closed his eyes.

He heard the crowd around him stirring.

"Everyone becomes a Reject," Matthew clutched the microphone, holding it right up to his lips.
"You all will," he said, and another shock of electricity coursed through him, from the neck through.

Matthew dropped the microphone, which rang out in interference over the worried voices rising up from the crowd. Matthew dropped to his knees, clutching his stomach in the blinding pain.

He knew he must've looked like hell, but that meant they had to believe him, right?

He heard his name, but not from Brick, who was approaching fast from stage right, a scowl carved into his expression.

The cameras were turned away, the lights had suddenly gone down. Curtains fell over the front of the stage.

He fell onto his back, his teeth chattering from the energy that surged through him. He pulled his knees up to his chest, trying his hardest to diffuse the pain. Pretend it didn't exist. He was getting fuzziness in his ears, and the world was becoming distant, like Matthew was descending into a deep, dark pit. The scariest part was that it felt almost comforting. Like a home he had never been to before.

Brick hovered over him now, waving over his face, almost like he was fanning away smoke. Matthew had his eyes open barely a sliver, all he could manage, on the edge of unconsciousness.

"You've really done it now, Matthew," Brick said, a whisper in Matthew's right ear.

The world around them was erupting in screams, in chaos, in total disarray. Something was happening, and Matthew so desperately wanted to see.

His last thought, one perfect image in his dark mind, was Olive. Her concerned face, bright eyes.

"What have you done, Matthew?" She asked.

And then, everything went dark.

TO BE CONTINUED . . .