Vision Zero

Chapter 1

 "Plan B is not an option."

"You don't have a choice. Make it an option."

"But..."

"You have four weeks. Make it work."

"Yes, Mr. President."

Eight juvenile delinquents, four boys, four girls, wait to board a bus to their new home, The Last Chance Behavior Modification Center. In between awkward stares and meaningless chit chat, they glance at President Slayton's speech scrolling across the jumbotron in Times Square, listening to his words repeat in a twenty minute loop.

"Drastic measures must be implemented... No exceptions... Zero tolerance policy..."

The broadcast repeats for a third time when the bus screeches to a halt as it hits the curb. They line up, two by two, iron shackles joining them as if in matrimony. Britt, a pretty, petite thirteen-year-old, steps up in unison with Vaughn, a short fifteen-year-old boy with freckles and red curly hair. They are followed by the others in ascending size order. The bus driver gives the all clear and the President-appointed program leaders board the oversized, rusted vehicle.

Dr. Sinnott, a slender man with dark features, is careful not to step through the gaping holes as he makes his way to the back, stands between the seats, and looks down at the asphalt just beneath his feet. After twenty five years as a leading nanotechnologist, this isn't what he was expecting when President Slayton gave him the assignment. He was promised groundbreaking research, test subjects and the chance to win a Nobel prize. How is he supposed to accomplish any of it if he falls through the floor of a moving bus?

He sits down in the lone seat across from the bathroom, then puts on a pair of brown horn rimmed reading glasses before pulling out a worn, dog-eared paperback from his duffle bag. He peers over the spectacles to ensure everyone is seated. His head nods and he starts reading his favorite passages.

Dr. Hale, a young psychiatrist who looks more like a hippie flower child than a medical professional, wipes the sweat from her forehead and sits down in the seat directly behind the driver. She licks her chapped lips, then pulls out a bottle of water and gulps until the plastic crackles. The last droplets cling to the bottom. She shakes the liquid over her head in an attempt to cool off, then shoves the empty bottle in a plastic bag under her seat.

Dr. Sacavage, a pale complected neuroscientist with deep set eyes, is the last to board the bus. Her bony fingers smooth a silver streak that leads to a tight bun of ebony hair. She does a quick head count before addressing the teens.

"There will be no more talking once this vehicle is in motion. Consider this the first step in your journey to conformity. I know I will not need to repeat myself," she says, giving a glare before turning around to sit.

Her brow furrows as she puts earbuds snugly in place to listen to Mozart. She closes her eyes and blocks out everything but the symphony playing in her ears.

The driver starts the engine. It chokes, sputters, and eventually turns over. Billowy, black smoke blows out the tailpipe as the bus pulls away from the curb. The air conditioning, while weak, is a welcome presence on the blistering August day.

Quinn, a scarlet-haired beauty, is the first to break the silence.

"Not exactly first class service, is it?" Quinn whispers to Xander.

"Huh? Did you say something?" Xander says, looking in Quinn's direction.

"This is some hunk of junk they got us riding in. I guess nothing but the best for us," Quinn says.