Imperfection

Imperfection: Chapter 1

Chapter 1: 

They've come for me. I know it. They're standing at the entrance of my family's Living Quarters, briefcases filled with who-knows-what in their hands. I'm sitting here, in my room, waiting for the sound of their key cards opening our door. My hands are earthquakes, trembling with some sort of uncontrollable anxiety as the image of them opening the door and calling out for me stains my imagination with streaks of gray pain. What will I do when they find me? Run and try to escape? Pretend I have no idea what's happening? Or maybe, just maybe, I'll merely accept it.

Peace, my female Caretaker, knocks on my door. The sound of her knuckles against the thick metal door throws me out of my horrific daydream and back into reality with a sudden jolt that makes my heart kick into overdrive.

"Justice," She calls my name, which honestly doesn't help my heart. 

I take a moment to regain my composure. Inhale... exhale...

"Justice, your evening meal is here," Peace's voice echoes off of the steel block separating us.

"Okay," I try to keep my voice as calm and collected as possible. 

At the meal table, I can tell my Caretakers have been thinking of the same things that I have. 

Courage, my male Caretaker, doesn't look up from his evening meal. He seems to be so fascinated in the protein pills scattered on the side of his plate. Peace stares at him, but her lips don't open a crack to say anything to him. 

He's ashamed of me. And he should be. This isn't how he thought being a Caretaker would be. He didn't ask for this.

He leaves the dining table without a word long before Peace and I are finished. As I get up to put my tray at the front door, Peace's hand shoots up to touch my elbow.

She clears her throat and stares me straight in the eyes. I notice hers are shimmering with tears. 

"Justice," she begins, her voice shaky, uncertain, as if she were approaching an untamed beast. 

I place the tray on the ground and turn back around to face her.

When our eyes meet again, she purses her lips and looks down at her empty plate.

I stand at the doorway until I am certain she's not going to say anything else and then make my way to my bedroom or as it should be called now, the prison that isolates an Imperfection in a world of Perfections.

Around this time, other people in Beta are either still outside in the Social Recreational Center or at home enjoying the evening entertainment programs on their slick, black televisions. I know that soon a loud voice will blast out from the speakers in the empty streets, telling people how much time there is until lights out. Here I sit, gazing out the window at the holographic projection of the moon that Beta uses to give people an image of what nature used to be. I hardly ever look at the "moon" but today I'm intrigued by it. The craters seem to be staring at me with eyes of disapproval and disgust. 

I lie back on my bed, letting the wires of my Health Regulator connect with my skin. After a few seconds of humming, the machine lets out the set of beeps that notifies me that my health status has been recorded. I turn my head to face the Health Regulator screen. My eyes sting against the cyan light. 

Everyday the screen says the same thing: my basic information, my health percentage, other comments, same thing every day. 

But not today.

Today the screen is just blue.

Blue with bold white letters in the middle. 

Bold white letters that read

ERROR.