Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76857 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 307(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Why were we still talking when napping was an option? “I’m confined to the girls’ dorms for another five days.”
Pulling the sheet over our heads to make a private little tent for two, Maeve grew conspiratorial. “Well, they gave me something for you. I smuggled in cookies.”
A carefully wrapped package came out of her pocket to rest on the pillow between us.
Cookies—my ultimate favorite thing I may or may not have eaten a bite or two of on the rare occasion a human might pass me a deeply forbidden treat.
Outside food was absolutely not allowed to hybrid students. Our diets were specifically engineered for ultimate nutritional value. Meat cubes. Vegetable patties. Nutrition designed to help our complex systems develop properly.
Junk food was an extravagance that could not be wasted on a growing hybrid.
Humans seemed less concerned about their general state of health. After all, they were not government-funded military experiments. They had the luxury of sugar and chocolate.
Fortunately, the ones I had been working with for the last four years were also really nice. All women, save the occasional very young boy. One of them was a particularly good baker.
She’d made me a cake on my birthday when I’d come of age. Even the armed watcher standing on the parapet above had not reported my behavior when I’d eaten a slice.
I could have died of pure decadence that foggy afternoon.
Chocolate ganache was a magnificent creation. Smooth and sweet and rich and… dear God… maybe as wonderful as the fog.
But it seemed even the promise of forbidden sugar was not enough to rouse me from my current despair. I pushed the illicit package back toward Maeve. “You should eat them. Becca makes really good cookies.”
“This isn’t like you. Why won't you leave your room?” Her pert nose wrinkled. “You need a shower. Everyone is imagining the worst. Think of the littles. They are worried about you.”
Closing my eyes to my beautiful friend once again, I muttered, “Everyone is right.”
Maeve had endured enough of my moping. And she certainly was not going to tolerate my refusal of a treat she’d risked her ranking to procure for me. “I will go from being nice, straight to violence, if you do not comply. Explain what is going on. Now!”
What was I even supposed to say? How much was confession, and how much was just social suicide? “I will not be allowed to graduate.”
She looked deeply relieved. “Thank God that’s it! We all thought you’d been given the position of surveyor.”
I could not help but begin to openly cry at that word. At the broken dream and unfairness of life.
Sobbing, I said, “You don’t understand. I want to be a surveyor.”
“That’s ridiculous." She smiled, patting me kindly. "Don’t be silly.”
Nauseous and deeply ashamed, I confessed, “I’ve thrown every test since I was eight to guarantee that’s where I would be placed. He knew. And now he won’t let me leave.”
There it was. A look of confusion followed by skepticism. “Why though? Why would you do that?”
Sniffing, so deeply, deeply sad, I met her eyes. “I want to go into the fog, and I don’t want to come back.”
Our little tent was thrown off, Maeve sitting up to glare at me. “That’s crazy, Lorieyn. You’d die out there. What about your obligation to society? What about your sisters? You were going to just leave us?” Her voice had grown louder, resentment heightening her pitch.
Essentially, yes, that had been my intention.
What did they all think was going to happen after we left the academy? There were ten thousand hybrids who would absorb us into their societal structure. Our little school family would be broken, each of us with new positions, new leadership, new customs, new sisters. There was not any guarantee we might see one another often. I wasn’t even sure how deeply my kind was allowed to intrude into the burgeoning human city.
Would we be allowed to meet at a restaurant and reminisce about our lives? Were friendships sustainable when dorms were exchanged for assorted barracks?
Putting my weight on my forearm, I sat up and rubbed my greasy hair off my face. “I’m not asking you to understand, and I am sorry if your feelings are hurt, but I don’t belong here. I hear a song in the fog the same way the men claim they hear our song when they recognize a mate.”
Eyes narrowed, she removed herself from my little bed. “Wanna know what I think? I think you hear what you want to hear. I mean, this is crazy! You’ve been given what may essentially be immortal life, the ability to survive on this planet in a way unaltered humanity could only dream of. To earn it, you must serve to your fullest capacity. All I hear from you is self-serving garbage. The fog? Who wants to go into the fog on purpose?”