DIVIDE

~Prologue~

They sat around a conference table. Date: 01/01/2346. Time: 00:07.

"I'm glad you could all make it on such short notice". The President of Halo Province, sat at the head of the table, moves his eyes along the row of professionals in front of him, pens poised.

To his right, Taj Shamsay, director of the human migration and territorial placement office. His forehead sports a crease so deep it looks as though its been sliced, a horizontal line above his brows. The president knows every line etched into his childhood friend's face; this particularly prominent one tends to appear when Shamsay is presented with a tough situation, or has to solve a difficult problem. This will be his hardest problem yet.

To his left, an unkempt man whom he recognises through name alone. This is Yosef Hudson, who has a superior position at Halo Province Infirmary. Still in his powder-blue scrubs, he dabs at the beads of perspiration still forming on his forehead with a square of kitchen roll. He's had a difficult day; he'll get it tomorrow, when the press find out.

And directly opposite, sat him. His mirror image. His brother. He was a perfect reflection of himself, which was the point really.

In those cheesy cartoons, when a character has to make a big decision, there's often a scene with an angel and a devil inside their head, instructing them. They represent a sort of inner conflict between a persons regular self and the darkness that lies within every individual. Usually, the angel wins the conflict, and the devil returns to the shadows, sulking over its failure. 

The point is that everyone has a dark side, which in this society was meant very literally.

The president looks back over at his twin. Inferno Province isn't as well off as Halo Province, which you can tell almost instantly from his brother's physique. He's a lean man, with an angular skeleton that sharpens all of his features, which appear as though they have been carved into the trunk of a withered oak, a shadow cast upon them by the top of his cloak hood, pulled over his head as though he has something terrible to hide. Which he does. Since he's the President of Inferno Province, we all know he's the only Evil here. His hood hides his forehead, where an inky black tattoo sprawls across his skin; one that all Evils are born with, a three-pronged silhouette of a pitchfork. It clearly marks him as someone who doesn't belong here, which the President of Halo assumes brings his brother great shame. He always hated being defined by the marking upon his forehead, and he strove to be better, to belong, but the rejection that surrounded him in the years he lived here corrupted him to such an extent that now, there is no question that he truly does belong in Inferno.

Absent-mindedly, the President's brushes his fingers along his own forehead, pausing when they find the ellipses tattoo between his eyebrows. His mind begins to wander but he doesn't take notice. Good. Evil. What a rift in society the concept has created. Only a fine line separates the two; both physically and metaphorically. The president can see the Wall in his peripheral vision: barbed wire hoops nailed onto a solid brick barrier, crumbling. What happened to the bridges of the ancient times? What happened to equality and to inclusivity? Yes, the Provinces have decreased crime, and increased economic prosperity, if only in Halo. But they have planted discrimination firmly into the minds of society, and the roots have just grown too deep to change that. The case they are about to discuss will surely be testament to that.

He is brought back to reality by the realisation that every one of the one hundred and thirty members of the council were staring at him in silence. A few were dozing off, what with him having woken them in the middle of the night to discuss the events that unfolded in Halo Province Infirmary just under an hour ago.

He addresses them all, and then gets straight to the matter at hand. He is already exhausted and humiliated, and doesn't wish to waste any more of these people's time.

"So as you all most certainly know, here in our esteemed conjoined provinces of Halo and Inferno, we are all born with an identical twin sister, or brother in the case of some," He says, glancing over at his own brother who happens to be picking at his nails, appearing to be rather uninterested, before looking up at the professionals assembled before him. He regains his composure before looking up at them again and continuing, "For years we have relied on this split society to keep us safe, and so that we can be who we truly are. Good and Evil. Evil and Good. We are equal, but so very different".

Lies, all lies.

"And more than anything else, every one of us is blessed with the knowledge of where we belong, and where we are meant to be. Which is why, when something like this happens, although it takes us by surprise, to say the least, we have to treat the situation with extreme caution. We have no idea what could arise from tonight's events. We have witnessed the most irregular and out of the ordinary birth this society has seen since its very beginnings."

They're all looking up now, their eyes fixated on him, jotting down every word that comes out of his mouth. One of them could be an undercover journalist he notes, deciding to be very careful with what he says from this moment onwards. He has done hundreds, perhaps even thousands of speeches and conferences in his lifetime, but this one was the most important; not to mention the most dangerous. His hands tremble as he clasps a pen, slick with sweat, and twists the lid round and round. "I'd like to Invite Mr Hudson, lead consultant of Halo Province infirmary, to fill you all in on the details before we begin to make any further decisions". He says it lightly, yet he goes cold inside. He knows he might as well have dropped a bomb on Hudson, leaving him to deal with the issue, deal with the press. Deal with the punishment. He watches as Hudson stands up.

Hudson releases a shaky breath and begins to talk. "Last night, at a quarter to midnight, a child was born to Mrs Sierra Potts." It takes a while for what he said to sink in.  Then, all at once, the volume in the conference room soars. Questions arise from everywhere:

"Has this child really been born without a twin?"

"Whose fault is this?"

"What happened to the mother, the child, the twin?"

And the most prevalent of all.

"Is the child Good or Evil?"

Hudson's feet seem stuck-fast to the ground with fictional cement, his eyes glazed over as he stares at the scene in front of him. He keeps moving his lips as if he were about to speak, but the words are drowned in the chaos. The President picks up Hudson's notes.

"SILENCE!" He roars, a purple-ish vein throbbing in his temple. He continues reading from where Hudson, who sits impassively in the chair beside him, left off. Hudson. It's clear he already knows his fate. After all, while this isn't anyone in particular's fault, people will want to find someone to pin the blame on, to restore order.

"The female child, Quinn Rae Potts, was born without a twin, who died at birth due to natural causes." The President looks over at Hudson. Not a bad alibi, he thinks to himself as he resumes, "Her mother, Sierra Potts is as well as can be expected considering the circumstances."

"This shouldn't be an issue", Interrupts a senior member of the Government, Ky Rivers. "You dragged us out of our beds at this ridiculous hour to tell us this. We have no reason to be present here. While a child born without a twin is extremely rare, it has happened previously, without this hassle. So please enlighten us all, Mr President: Why all the fuss? What's so special about Miss Quinn Potts?"

"I appreciate your concerns, Mr Rivers, however I can promise you, had there not been a greater matter at hand, I wouldn't have called you all here tonight. There is something dangerously remarkable about Quinn. Something that may well threaten the collapse of our society as we know it, unless we act now. How are we to know where she belongs? When she is eighteen, to which Province shall we send her?"

Taj Shamsay, who the President of Halo had asked to deliver the final blow to the assembly beforehand, rises and clears his throat.

"Quinn Rae Potts is neither Good nor Evil. She is Unmarked, and as far as our research shows, always will be. We must act now before its too late. We have no choice. The child must be exterminated."