Gifted

Chapter Twenty-three

|Thursday|

Bella

“Come on, Isabella,” my dad calls from the living room. “It’s time to go!”

On the drive to the Registration Committee’s office, located a block off of Time’s Square, I see advertizing up all over the city. Large golden posters, with bold purple block-lettering on them. They all carry the same party line. It’s very Nineteen Eighty-Four-ish:

REGISTER TODAY!

REMEMBER! If You Are Thirteen Years of Age or Older, You Must Submit to a Questioning Session and Also Testing for Enhanced Abilities by the REGISTRATION COMMITTEE ON POWERED PERSONS (Subdivision of the Census Bureau of the United States of America). If You Are Found to Possess Quantifiable Abilities, You Will Receive an Identification Card by Mailing Address in a Few Weeks’ Time Containing Your Current Address, Your Full Legal Name, and a List of Your Abilities. You Will be Required to Carry This Card at All Times While in Public and Will Be Subject to a Fine if You Are Found to Not Be Carrying the Card. The Above Information Will Also Be Marked In Your Official Record Maintained by the Bureau.

(If Any Information is Changed After Receiving the Card, You Must Return to the Registration Center That Examined You and Inform Them of the Appropriate Changes; a New Card Will Be Sent to You Shortly Thereafter.)

Individuals Who Fail to Comply With the Registration Law Within Thirty Days of Receiving Their Registration Notice or Their Thirteenth Birthday, or Who Are Found to Have Given False Information When Questioned, or Who Change Identification Information Without Notifying Proper Authorities, Will Be Prosecuted to the Fullest Extent of the Law.

Thank You and Have a Great Day!

—REGISTRATION COMMITTEE ON POWERED PERSONS—

Is it just me, or does this stink of blatant discrimination? If you are found to possess quantifiable abilities, you will receive an identification card by mailing address in a few weeks’ time containing your current address, your full legal name, and a list of your abilities. Then the best part: YOU WILL BE REQUIRED TO CARRY THIS CARD AT ALL TIMES WHILE IN PUBLIC.

WHAT? Ok, so to spell this out in simple terms...we have to carry a card that says we’re different from everybody, and we have to show it to whoever asks to see it (and, love this part, they can fine us if we don’t have it). Funnily, it doesn’t say anything about the people without powers; nothing happens to them. But if you have powers, you basically become a slave to the government; they own you from that point on—they have your name, your home address, and they know what you can do so they can identify you later.

And the best part? The part the notice cleverly doesn’t mention but that everyone has been talking about? It’s public. Everything on there, from Joe Doe’s address at 101 Maple Way to Doris Doe’s ability to pee liquid gold or something, is available for just anyone to find. We're not criminals, for god's sake.

Not my idea of something I want to sign up for. It’s rather convenient for a lunatic wannabe serial killer, in my opinion. Not that I have any choice.

We pull into the parking lot of the Registration Office, which is being temporarily housed in an abandoned gymnasium until the official premises can be built. The gym, until recently, was slated for demolition. So they’re not too safety-minded, either.

Guess they figure, if it collapses and kills a few of us, no big loss.

Walking into the lobby (the lobby’s back wall is knocked out, allowing us a free view into the gym) is like entering a bizarre time warp: Exercise equipment from the fifties still stands around the walls of the cavernous, vaulted-ceilinged room, rusting and dust-covered, while a looong line of people are slowly shuffling toward a row of desks at about the middle of the gymnasium (the remaining half is being used, as far as I can see, for demonstrations of physical powers, which obviously can't be tested for just at a desk). As far as I can tell, Dad and I are numbers 403 and 404, respectively. It’s gonna be a long wait.