The Definition of Meta

Chapter One

        "We, as a people, are superior to everyone else and as such must act superior," the woman on screen, a prominent figure in the meta community named Sarah Harris, smoothed down her immaculately pressed pantsuit and smiled at the camera. "For too long we have been shut away in the dark folds of society and we must now make a move. The laws holding us down are no longer protecting us; they are harming us. How do we expect our children to be proud of their gifts and who they are if we tell them to hide?"

        "But Ms. Harris, surely you can't be suggesting we go to war with the typics. Such a war would be suicide for all involved." The reporter, a meta with a charming disposition and teeth so bright they shined, stated.

        "Oh no Reece. Not war," Harris smiled demurely. "We'll try peace and diplomacy first. But either way something will change the laws confining us and then we can take our place as the superior kind."

        The reporter, Reece Davids, pondered Harris' answer before posing another question. "You use that word a lot; superior. What does that mean for you and your ideas? Your followers?"

        Harris laughed, a surprisingly bright and airy sound for the irrational topics she discussed so casually. "It means exactly that; superior. The Gods looked down on us and blessed us for a reason. We are meant to be the stronger species. The ones on top. Instead we cower in fear of being run out of town or killed. We send our children away to be raised in schools that the same twisted government who came up with the laws that bind us, control.

        Harris looked straight at the camera. "This is not the time to be hiding. We must rise up to secure our survival. Our way of life needs to be preserved before we waste away. It's time to stand up and-"

        The TV was suddenly shut off and Kieran whipped around to look at her eldest sister. Cris had a disgusted look on her face as she dangled the remote off the tips of her cotton candy pink nails.

        "Why are you even watching this disgusting drivel? It's all talk," Cris said, her voice cold like the ice in her veins. "There are much better things on right now."

        Kieran shrugged her shoulders. "It was the first channel when I turned the tv on and I'm waiting for the mail to come in."

       Cris raised an eyebrow. "Canthroe letters come out today?" Kieran shook her head eagerly, a smile gracing her face. "Don't worry. You'll get in for sure. After all, you're a Hensley."

        "But what if I don't?" Kieran frowned. "I couldn't stand it if I wasn't selected."

        "Canthroe is a big fan of collections and tradition. Therefore you got in. Now stop the pity party the mail will be here any second." Cris tossed the remote across the back of the couch and left the room, chilly air following in her wake and leaving the room warmer as she exited.

        Kieran popped up off the couch and followed her eldest sister through the maze like hallways and past various rooms into the entryway. Kieran looked down at her watch and as the minute hand hit eight o'clock precisely, a bundle of letters and bills fell through the mail slot. Kieran leapt forward to grab the separate stack of cream colored envelopes but her sister was quicker and with one hand snatched the stack up, the other hand held up in warning to Kieran to halt her.

        Cris shuffled through the stack before pulling out the letter addressed to Kieran and handing the slim envelope to her sister, keeping the other three. As she walked off she called out to the recipients of the other two letters, keeping the third for herself.

        Kieran looked down at the elegant script covering the envelope proclaiming her name and address along with the confirmation that that letter was, in fact, from Canthroe. She reverently traced over her name before flipping the letter over and tearing into it savagely.