The Five Unnecessaries

Chapter 8

I was on my fifth lap when he stopped me. I must have been panting, even as I stood still. He looked up and took a deep breath as he moved toward me.

"You're done for now. Don't do that again, 27," he said. "Please, don't do it again." His tone was softer, as if he meant it.

I knew I had no other choice but to be the good soldier and force myself to say, "I won't."

He studied me, then said, "Okay. Pulse."

I reached out my hand and he placed his fingers on my wrist again. I was so furious—livid, even—but the person I was angry at disappeared again, leaving a nineteen-year-old boy who wanted to hear about Medical, who laughed about what Tessa's reaction must have been when I knew the answers.

"She taps on things when she's jealous, so I think you got her!" he said, smiling, then paused. His tone shifted again. "Look, I shouldn't have to give you an explanation every time I give you an order, but I should've given you one this time. I don't think it's a good idea for you to go with the others to HistCulture. They told me this morning that they weren't reviewing anything they learned at the Academy. They're jumping into new policies, and they want to focus on the recent issues of entrapment."

"Yeah, I've heard," I said and tried to hide my nervous reaction, but it was as fast as a reflex.

"They left it up to me. I'm asking for your trust." He pulled his fingers back, grazing my wrist as he said, "Not bad, but we will walk the next three laps, maybe add a few, 27."

I noticed his hand stretched out to his fingers, as if a spasm went through it before touching his watch.

"But that'll take—" I stopped short of saying it, seeing his face. "Sorry."

"This part isn't a punishment, 27. We're going to break the compartment rule for a bit and mix some physical training with your first HistCulture test. Before I can teach you anything, I need to know what you understand about the Republic. Shall we?"

I started to walk, although his pace seemed a bit fast for talking.

"So, what do you know about our enemy?"

"That question couldn't be vaguer," I said, and he laughed with me, which felt strange. But I caught the trick question he had asked. "However, the motto I remember hearing growing up was that the Republic is not the enemy, the Society Party is."

"Good. We can skip some chapters on that. Why does the Society reject us and think of us as expendable?"

"I remember reading about it in ninth year. They view the value of human life only in terms of 'freedom.' If someone isn't free to experience everything, they aren't fully human. Any genetic imperfection or moral belief can restrain the human experience—creatively, intellectually, or sexually. The body and the mind shouldn't be restrained from achieving happiness and fulfillment. So, it's mercy to kill someone who doesn't agree with them."

"Yes," Collin said. "In simpler terms, there's an analogy they like to use for Unnecessaries. They refer to them, and even us, as moths and prefer to see themselves as butterflies. The moth makes the butterflies' lives less attractive, less appealing. They feel the pursuit of spirituality or any deeper human connection is the only proof that we are deficient because we need to pursue such ridiculous ideas to make our pitiful lives worth living. That's why when a 'moth' is born, discarding it is the humane response. That way, everyone is happy and comfortable. No one questions their happiness and comfort, so the public elects the people that promise them more happiness and comfort. It's a cycle."

I had a thought and a question, but didn't want to be embarrassed by the sometimes-cliché remark we all had in history class. As I looked at Collin, his calm was back, his brow was smooth, and he looked as if he wanted me to ask a question.