Shattered: the Continuing Story of an Average Girl

Remembering

Two years ago

"But why can't we choose?" I ask, my eyes widened in innocence. Teacher looks straight at me.

"It's the only way to maintain order," she says, her head bobbing up and down in the process, as if agreeing with herself.

"If we didn't have the system to choose for us, we'd have a horrible community! Merna, tell me, what are the basic functions of civilization?" I cringe at my name, but still drone the answer on to Teacher Alice.

"The basic needs for civilization are order, similarity and repetition." I say monotonously. Teacher nods again as I answer.

"And if we did not have the system to choose for us, then who would? Imagine how impossible it would be to have to decide what is best for ourselves! Now, class... On to math..."

As Teacher recites the rules of exponents, however, my mind wanders. I am afraid of the Choosing Ceremony. It is in only two months, and a few of the people in my year have already been selected many the machine for certain jobs. I know I haven't yet, however- I am far down in the List of Names, and won't be chosen until the near end, my last name being Wakenight.

My history will be locked in place in less than two months. The brute fact of it scares me. But what really scares me is that they also... well, they... alter us. Some of us have the perfect mind for being a Scavenger, but need to be taller and stronger. Some people have the perfect, lean body to be a plumber, but aren't that bright. In that case... Their minds are altered. One by one, the friends you had as a child disappear, into "better" versions of their earlier selves.

The thought makes me shudder.

Some say that Teacher used to look totally different. Once I heard some men walking to Work mention Teacher's name.

"...Didn't even recongnize her," one commented. The other agreed.

"Used to be even more beautiful. Guess they didn't want any students 'fraid of her," he said.

Ever since that day, I dread the day of my surgery. Everyone is changed, even if it is unnecessary.

Everyone.

"... Class dismissed," I hear Teacher say. I get up and walk out of the smeared plastic doors of the schoolhouse, seeing a ghost of my reflection in the doors. Freckles dominate the mass of my face, while green eyes and coarse brown hair only add to their obviousness. My eyes dawdle, although I know that it is unallowed to look at ourselves before the surgery.

I don't care.

I will remember Every. Single. Detail.