The Children of New Brooklyn

Chapter 1

I wake up to the rays of sunlight reflecting off of the mirror in my room. I rub my eyes and stretch across my bed. It takes me a moment to step out of my dreams and back into reality. I take in a deep breath, soaking up the melancholy ambiance of my room. I then decide that as lonely and sad as it feels, there is a sense of security that comes from being in it. And that's more than what others can wish for.

I am thankful. I am grateful. I am fortunate. I am blessed. I try to instill these four sentences into my brain every day. Yet, I am still lying to myself.

The sense of security I was trying to find suddenly gets washed away as the thought sinks in.

Today is the day, I think. I wonder how Amalie and Nicholas must be doing. Today is the day of their send-off. Every year, all of the sixteen-year-olds in New Brooklyn are sent off somewhere to do who knows what. I've heard stories ranging from them being forced into manual labor to them living in paradise. I still have a year left, but my friends happen to have their sending-off ceremony later today.

I feel scared for them. Stepping out into the world they will live in for the rest of their lives, not knowing the obstacles that will be thrown at them. I hope everything will turn out in their favor, but I have this unshakeable sensation that something might not be right.

I decide to ignore it and force myself to get out of bed. I can talk to Amalie in a bit since our rooms are in the same corridor. We all live in towering buildings; each floor is called a corridor and consists of one long hallway. The girls and boys live in separate buildings and we each have a small one-bedroom dwelling.

I walk up to my window on the opposite wall of my bed and look outside. I take in the same sight that I do every day. I see the same rows of buildings and then miles and miles of uncut grass. Every day I have the same thoughts. What exists when the grass comes to an end? What lies beyond this little bubble that I live in? How far would I need to go to discover it? I've considered running away to see for myself, but the officials have cameras everywhere. I don't know what the consequences are, mainly because no one has dared to leave New Brooklyn, but it wouldn't be smart to risk it. They can be ruthless.

I shake myself so that I wouldn't get lost in my thoughts. I take one more look outside the window, then turn to walk directly into my bathroom. I shower and get dressed in what feels like a blink of an eye. It feels refreshing. Like washing away everything that happened yesterday in order to prepare for something new today. But no matter how hard I try, I can't wash away the eerie feeling that something isn't going to go right.

Ringggg!

Ringggg!

There goes the bell for breakfast. After I finish tying my dark hair up into a messy knot, I open my door and silently step out. All thirty of us in the corridor must wait until Monitor Gillard leads us out to the cafeteria commons, where everyone in New Brooklyn eats. As I wait for Gillard to enter the corridor, I spot Amalie across the hall. She flashes me her charming smile and I look at her, trying to hold my laughter in. I bet I looked like I was choking.

After we gather ourselves, we look at each other again. This time, more seriously. Today will be the last day that I'll ever get to spend with her. She will be sent off today, and next year, I'll be shipped elsewhere.

I hear footsteps approaching the main doorway. The sturdy door opens with not the slightest of sounds and a woman dressed in a grey pantsuit with her brown hair up in tight bun steps in. Monitor Gillard.

"All right everyone, get in a line," she demands, "Now."

I walk briskly to get in line, but my clumsy self trips over Clarisse's foot and falls to the ground.

"I'm sorry," I mouth up to her. She nods, but her eyes look almost sorry for me. I scramble to get to my feet and notice Gillard staring me up and down as she walks over.

"Miss Taylor. Taylor Bazen. How are you doing today?" she hisses at me.

I look up at her. "Just fine," I reply in a monotonous tone.

"Yes, you are doing just fine. You all don't know how privileged you are. We feed you, we clothe you, and we teach you. What more could any of you possibly want? I do not expect, nor will I tolerate any disruptions, young lady. That goes for all of you." She looks back down at me with condescending eyes. "Now hurry up and get to the commons before I drag you to the cellar." She says as her voice shifts from a calm tone to shouting at us like a madman.

The cellar. The infamous cellar. That is the closet in the Official's building where they take the kids who have misbehaved. They say it's the darkest room in all of New Brooklyn. I have no idea what lies in there, and I intend to never find out. All I know is that the kids who go in are sworn to secrecy about the nightmares that exist inside. But it's not like that rule makes a difference, most victims can't even talk about what it was like without inducing an anxiety attack. If they think that the child still won't abide by the rules after going through the cellar, then they make it so that you're never seen or heard from again. Do they kill them? Do they imprison them? Do they hide them? No one knows.

Monitor Gillard is the type of person that throws around words until they lose their potency. Being threatened to be sent to the cellar used to be frightening and would whip us into shape. But after Monitor Gillard saw how effective it was, she began dropping it into her sentences everytime she called someone out for absolutely anything.

I look straight at Monitor Gillard and nod in agreement but on the inside, my blood is boiling and my eyes feel as though they would explode out of my head. My fists start to clench behind my back, but I release them as I realize the smartest thing I can do for everybody is look ahead and walk out to the cafeteria.

It is a quick walk to the café, one of the perks of living in the prime girls' building. Kids are assigned to live in the prime building if their parents are successful after their send-off. The officials must think that success is genetic or maybe they use it to motivate our parents to work harder, but I doubt the latter would work. Why would they care? Parents are only allowed to see their children for a good fifteen seconds before officials take them and they'll most likely never see their kids again. But why do the officials want to do that? They hate us as it is. They probably hate kids in general too. What do they get out of taking us away? There has to be a reason; everything has a reason.

I approach the doorway to the cafeteria full of people and loud clamor. I easily recognize Nicholas. He is sitting at a table in the section reserved for kids that live in the prime buildings. As I run up the stairs and enter the cafeteria commons, I am welcomed with a refreshing billow of cold air.

"Hey! Where's Amalie?" I ask Nicholas as I approach him

"Right here!" I turn around and see her waving and walking towards us.

We both sit down at the same time. I look at the food before us. There is a large platter of eggs, sausages, pancakes, and more on the white cafeteria table. On a regular day, we hardly get more than a slice of toast and peas. But today is not a regular day, today is the send-off.