The Five Unnecessaries

Chapter 2

The shuttle shifted to top speed before we found our seats. While the boys ran to the window, I noticed that Olivia didn't dare complain about not getting to sit there. She held the edge, her fingers sinking into each line of the corduroy fabric beneath her. I smiled, thinking that she must be clinging to every memory of today as tightly as she did that seat.

I saw several friends from my school, including Amy, whose mouth gaped open when she saw me in the aisle. She asked if she could find me later and then hinted that Daniel was coming with their group. She giggled and ran down the aisle, my dad rolled his eyes and gave me a warning look.

"So, what do we do when we get there?" Olivia asked for the tenth time.

Mom gave her an understanding smile. "It's the same as last year, sweetie. You'll be in with the other kids your age and those who have volunteered to watch you. The fun happens after the ceremony."

"When do I get to go to the Arches? Is it interesting? I wish I could see Megan. Could they let me in?"

Mom shook her head. "No one ten or under. Rules are rules."

Being with the children's room at Olivia's age meant helping to watch the younger children and toddlers, an exhausting task. When I was her age, it felt even more tedious because I had finally learned the complete history of the Territory, our rebellion against the Republic, and the first and only time the Society Party ever retaliated.

"Daddy," she asked, "is that the river from the story?"

I looked out to the water glistening in the sun, away from the sister who still had the innocence to call it a story— this horror the Society Party would place in our hearts. Our teachers would constantly remind us to say the Republic was not the enemy; the Society Party was the true villain. The Republic was full of victims, just like us.

"Yes, that's the river," my dad said into the silence. "And do you see the filter down there? The grey structure that looks like a dam with yellow stripes?"

Olivia leaned over to see the filter, the only reason we hadn't died.

Or rather, the only reason any of us were alive to begin with.

Two centuries ago, the Society Party had all but brainwashed the people of the Republic. The Republic's citizens gave over their freedom, their right to religion, and their right to have children of their own in exchange for the promise of a life of perfection. The illusion of their enlightenment and advanced philosophy allowed the Society to create any rule to bring happiness to its people by relieving them of the "responsibility of choice." The Society Party considered themselves more humane than any other civilization in history because they allowed only the most potentially successful and perfected people to live. They believed any child who was flawed in any way, physical or mental, should not be allowed to steal the joy and peace of anyone else. Such a specimen should be labeled as such: Unnecessary.

Any baby in a lab that didn't meet with standards, any child who began to show flaws as a young student, or any woman who would hide her imperfect baby... they were all enemies of the state.

"But not everyone agreed with the Society," my father continued where my inner thoughts had stopped. "The Society had made enemies, and many people will never equate genocide with mercy. They're smart and kind and knew love. But with many forfeiting their children to the Society Party schools by age three, those who did not comply with the mandates began to stand out. They had pushed humanity to new limits— except some people felt the new limits were not human at all. However, everyone who opposed the Society was labeled 'intolerant,' and the intolerant were not to be tolerated."