One Hundred

Chapter Seven

My heart skips a beat.  

“If you want me to help you, I’ll have to know exactly what you wrote. Word for word, Aida.”

The sun beats down hot and heavy. I can feel my dress sticking to my back as beads of sweat pool there. Meanwhile, this rendez-vous in the middle of the running track is starting to attract attention and I can see a small crowd of students eyeing us from the stands.

“I can’t remember exactly what I…”

“Now Aida, I know that’s simply not true. I know that you have a perfect memory. We don’t have a lot of time. So tell me, word by word.”

“OK. Alright. Fine…” I am irritated that he has caught me out. I stare back at him fiercely. He fixes on me with his impatient green eyes. We both know that the school bell will ring in the next twelve minutes, concluding our lunchtime and terminating any further chance to talk. 

“ Alright” I begin.

***

Titus listens attentively, never taking his eyes off me.

“So this army of children, you think they exist on the other side of the wall?”

“I don’t know – like I said it’s based on a dream I keep having.”

“But you’ve never actually seen them”

“No.”

“But you have heard of the Ten-Trait-Enhanced-Embryo project?” he says without missing a beat.”

“Yes” I answer, my face turning to stone. “How do you…”

“There is not time to explain.”

“Can you at least tell me what you wrote in your essay then?”

 “ An equation” he says, as though that explains everything.

“What sort of equation?”

“ A new weapon.” He smiles for the first time as though the thought was highly entertaining.

“So now I guess we know why our results were are being withheld. You’re designing weapons and I’m having nightmares about an army of alpha clones. But why would you write such a thing in your essay if you knew what happened to your brother? Why would you ruin your chances…For all you know, we’re going to go to prison for this, or …worse.” I couldn’t think of what could be worse than prison, but whatever it was, I was the sure the New World would have it covered.

“ Really Aida? ‘Ruin my chances?’ My chances of what? What do you think my career prospectus would say? What does our future hold here? Is your dream to stay on the farm until you’re old and grey, working for the alphas? Is that you dream? Or do you want to see where the world can take you? Perhaps,” he says, producing a small, thin plastic tube. “this may change your mind”.

I take it and hold it directly in front of my line of vision. Inside is a very thin piece of paper.

“What is it?”

  I received it three weeks ago. A pigeon brought it to me.”

“ A pigeon?” I say, incredulously as though this is the most preposterous thing he has said to me all day.

“A homing pigeon. Remember my brother wrote codes. Well, inside this tube is very thin piece of paper and on it is a code. I knew who it was from straight away. Only one person I know uses this sort of code. The note reads ‘I am alive. Join me. You know how. Do not write back’ ”

“Why are you telling me all this?”

“ You’re clever. I feel you deserve to know so that you can be prepared for what’s ahead.”