Personal Database #25
Subject: Wyn Rivera, MOLT 0, age 0-19.
<Medical Record: see HEALTH DATABASE #475>
<Behavioral Record: see SOCIOLOGICAL DATABASE #373>
Purpose Of Written Study: Pre-MOLT psychological analysis
Time to MOLT 1: 1.5 wks
Intellectual Property of the Governance of MOLT, Central Division
March 28, 2254
I finally understand why the Governance puts such a large gap between high school graduation and job training. The MOLT preparation facility might as well be a school of its own.
I arrived here this morning with nothing but a scattered brain and a suitcase full of clothes and other essentials. Governance workers took me straight to some sort of administrative office, where I was assigned to a room I would share with one other Birth MOLT and tagged with a clear wristband. After that, I was walked to the dining hall, which, might I add, is ginormous! The entire operation seems to be underground, which makes sense, given its size. I still have doubts about the MOLT, but the last few days, which I spent away from anything Governance-related, have taken away the edge on my resentment against the Chancellor. Mom's right: she has done only good things for us. I shouldn't care who she is.
There are so many Birth MOLTs here: many more than I expected. When I arrived, all of the long, white tables in the dining hall were packed with young people laughing and talking as they ate their dinners. After waiting in a long line, I was given my dinner of a sandwich and a bowl of fruit on a cardboard tray. Though it was served just like one, it tasted much better than a school lunch.
I found a place to sit at the edge of one of the tables in the back. Although I can get pretty crazy when I'm with my friends (or friend, rather, since I've never really had more than one at a time), I'm not the best at initiating conversations with strangers. Since, as you probably recall, I'm the only Birth MOLT in my neighborhood, that's what everyone else was.
As I ate, I began to notice something pretty strange: there seemed to be a distinct divide among the people in the room. About half of us, like me, were dressed in our normal clothes, while the other half wore identical jumpsuits and all had the exact same haircut: a really bad pixie cut for the girls and a generic, cropped style for the guys. No one else seemed to care about this, though. The regular Birth MOLTs and the jumpsuit-clad clones sat at the same tables and talked freely to each other without even bothering to take notice of the obvious differences between them. It didn't take me long to realize that this was the norm around here.
The worst part of my day, though, only got started after dinner when I went directly up to my room. It's on the fourth floor- four levels below the ground, that is- so I had to use an odd little descending elevator to get to it. The hallway around the rooms is pretty cramped with little light, but the room itself is surprisingly comfortable. It's got two separate beds as well as some living space with a desk, a couch, and a flatscreen TV mounted on the wall. The TV was a real surprise, considering that Freziere tends to avoid entertainment technology where possible due to its heavy involvement in the Great Fall. I guess the Governance really wants to put us in a good mood before we go in for the MOLT.
It took me until I was finished looking around to notice the girl who was sitting at the desk, her long fingers paging through a book: my roommate. I marveled at how quietly she had entered the room, completely escaping my notice, as I stared awkwardly at her. She was one of the jumpsuit clones, her only distinguishable feature being her frizzy red hair. Her eyes moved evenly from left to right on the page in front of her, refusing to be distracted by anything.
Maybe it's just my quirky personality talking, but there's something about how serious she seems to always be that gives me the creeps.
"Hey," I remember saying quietly, gulping as soon as my mouth formed the words. This was the first time I had ever spoken to another Birth MOLT- someone like me. It seemed to take her an eternity to move her eyes away from her book and to my face, at which time she forced a smile.
"Hello."
"I'm Wyn Rivera," I returned her rigid smile with a genuine one. "I'm from Fallen Bird- you might've seen it before. It's up above the-"
"I'm not from Freziere," she intoned with an almost hostile monotony. I involuntarily stepped back in fear. I knew I was socially awkward, but not this socially awkward! How did I actually manage to get this random girl to dislike me before I even learned her name? I deserve an award.
I should've just shut my mouth then and there, but you know me: one embarrassment per day is nowhere near enough. So I kept talking like the inexperienced idiot I am. "Oh, really? Wow, so you're from one of the other cities? Aren't those in, like, China? That's way cool!"
"Former South Korea," the girl spat. "But no, that's not where I'm from. My place of residence is not something you need to know. My name is Terra, but you are to address me as TLOM- 4967. We are Complements, and nothing more. Do not expect a friendship."
Okay, so as you can all probably tell, Terra/TLOM- whatever-numbers-they-are is a total annoying brat. I have no idea what a Complement is, but if it means I have to be associated with her in any way, I'm not happy about it. I tried to ask her several questions throughout the evening about training and about why the jumpsuit clones were...well, jumpsuit clones, but all she did was either ignore me or give me some smartdonkey answer (trying to keep this log professional here). I hope her birthday's coming up soon, because I don't think I can deal with her for one more minute.
So Governance, if you're still reading this, know that whatever horrible things she's probably written in her log about me aren't true, and she's most likely just trying to make my life miserable for no apparent reason. I'm going to try to tolerate her for the sake of my own sanity and out of respect for your decision to make us roommates- I really am- but be ready for some serious rants in future log entries just in case it doesn't work out.
Signing off,
Wyn
YOU ARE READING
MOLT 32
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