Without Flight

Part 2: Sarah May 12th

My thoughts quickly flash to my mother. Her delicate skin and brittle hair etched in my mind. Even as a kid I knew that my mother was different. It wasn't until I was older that I realized the same thing that made her different was making me different as well. For starters, she cried. No one ever cried in our sector. She was brilliant at covering it up though. If my father ever saw it, it would have brought about too many questions and attention. In sector B52-12 attention was never a good thing. Secondly, she would always look at photos that she had kept hidden in a box under the floorboards. She wouldn't just look at them. It was like they transported her back to another place or another time. She would sometimes stare at them for hours, stroking the faces in them. My father never knew about that either. The third was she would kiss me goodnight before bed. She never did this around the other mothers and their children. I remember how much I would look forward to it. How much they made me feel at home. She looked at me the way no one ever looks at anyone in our sector. But as special as it made me feel, it also scared me. I didn't want to be different from the other families nor was I ready for it.

I couldn't understand why my mother did the things she did. I couldn't understand why she was so sad. Sadness wasn't outlawed in our sector but people didn't feel it deeply or as often as my mother did. She had everything she could need. She had earned an A-class honors degree in Physics from the university. Her aptitude tests had earned her enough points in the system to be matched with the brightest male mate of our sector. My father was head of the Nanotechnology Department at the university and had published numerous reports on his findings. She had her allotted maximum of two children—my younger brother and me. The house we were given was by far one of the largest in our regions. There was nothing my mother seemed to lack. She had followed all the rules, gained all the points, and produced two children that were sure to have her intelligence and ingenuity. She had fulfilled her duty and she was highly respected for it.

B52-12 was different from the other sectors. Other sectors are governed by their own laws and are known for their different attributes. We were always hailed as the beaming sector. We produced the smartest and brightest of what the human population was capable of. We engaged in no wars. We had no poverty. In fact, we had a surplus of wealth partially due to our technological advances that were vital for the survival of other sectors. Although it was forbidden to go to any of them, we would frequently receive updates on our news servers. No one seemed to mind the laws that forbid them to travel, as the other sectors seemed stricken by disease, aggression, hunger, and worse of all: love.

So as I got older my mother trained me to understand the system that I was born into. Every accomplishment was rated, computed, categorized and documented. The more accomplishments the more points you earned. Points were your incentive. Points determined what type of house you lived in, what type of mate you would be assigned and what type of technology you had access too.

Although our sector was able to eradicate poverty, there was still a portion of our society that failed to meet the high genetic standards it demanded. Sometimes they were ostracized to other sectors. Other times they were cast off into less than prosperous regions doing menial jobs in the main parts of the sector. It was sciences' way of reminding us that it was not perfect and that there were no guarantees. Mutations can arise in the DNA and even as adults, accidents and injuries can wipe away your chances of working to your fullest potential.

The day quickly passes as I briefly reminisce about my childhood. It's sweltering as the sun makes it way to the midpoint of the sky. I rush to the nearby café to grab something cold to drink when I bump into him. His dark hair is slightly messy. I can tell he has been running. His face is flushed and there is a hint of pink coming through his cheeks. He tells me his name is Dale. When I look up to give him back his books he just stares at me. He stares at me the way my mother would stare at those photos. My heart pounds and races as though it is about to escape. As soon as the flutter in my pit begins to emerge it is quickly erased by an intense fear. I have never felt anything like this and I know that I am going to have to keep it secret.