An Imaginary Line

Chapter Four: Close Calls and Synthetic Walls

The morning sun pierced the dense mass of trees and filtered through the cracks of the shack. After a few minutes of slow crawling, its brilliant rays flashed their reflection off a copper basin hung on the wall, shining unwelcome into Harper's eyes. Next to her lie the little boy, covered with a few scraps of material and paper that he, though fast asleep, clutched closely to his body.

Harper reluctantly ascended out of unconsciousness and stumbled up to a standing position in the small and drafty space. The crisp fall morning had turned what was left of the shattered windows into blocks of fog, softly transmitting the golden quality of each sunbeam.

She leant down and considered the little creature lying hopelessly, homelessly, in her shack.

Eventually she picked him up in her arms and quietly explained that they were going now, while opening the door with her elbow. The camp wasn't all that far away, really, but it was arriving undetected that was the real trick.

Dry leaves and twigs crunched shamelessly at each cautious step, alerting any potential camp guards as to their position. The four assigned to the morning rotation were already well into their shift, having completed at least three rounds already. Thankfully for Harper, their military training accompanied by their general lack of incentive meant that they ran their circuits like clockwork, with very little variation. If she was to be believed, then there was a sentinel about 400 meters ahead of her, walking in the same direction, and one 200 meters to the right, walking towards her. She could easily escape notice if she kept a steady pace.

The rest of the camp's inhabitants, the cogs--or workers--as they are more acceptably called, would already be at the mill as well. This particular camp was dedicated primarily to producing the paper used in government offices, as well as general stationery and newspaper to a lesser extent. The duties of this workforce included not only operating the mill, but also cutting down and processing the trees to be used. Performing the many miscellaneous tasks assigned to them would require their entire 16-hour workday to complete, and always by hand. The work itself might not have been so hard if it hadn't been designed that way.

They were fed twice a day and provided a cot to sleep on. The saddest part was that not everyone in the camp knew they had it bad. Many had been there since they could pick up an axe—perhaps transferred from other camps—but never having lived any other kind of life. Freedom, choice, and comfort were barely a part of their vocabulary, let alone their experience. Lacking communication with the outside world, such a world might as well not exist. Camps were like black holes, irreversibly sucking in anything and anyone who got too close.

Ending up in a camp, your eternal home, was the result of one of several possibilities: 1. Either of your parents were sent to a camp,2. You were a known carrier of any notable genetic flaw, or 3. You committed a crime considered worthy of eternal punishment. Of course, one such crime was becoming in any way involved with anyone not assigned to you by the government's health and safety matching algorithm, put in place in 1986 when the world had its most severe pandemic in history. Billions died.

As a matter threatening the very existence of the human race, a solution was swiftly and unanimously agreed upon—known carriers of faulty genes would give up their right to bear children, and healthy individuals would be matched depending on the likelihood of preserving their healthy lines, and so on.

To go against such a mandate meant risking the future of every human, and every human's progeny, forever. So which is worse? Who can say? With the majority of the world's political leaders wiped out from the initial devastation, and an obvious need for quick, cut-and-dry decisions to be made, a talented American politician named Arthur Steel was selected to control and oversee the entire planet's interests for the foreseeable future.