Binary

Binary

Chapter Zero

I am a One.

To Surveil is everyone’s job. All other jobs are fulfilled by robots. I Watch a Zero, a rank signifying that they are have not complied with the State. They regain their Rank as One by properly Surveilling Ones while we sleep.

Every day I wake up, it’s the same. The automatic lights come on, I adorn my light blue uniform: The material is soft, thin, airy, there are cutouts on the bottom of my sleeves to signify that I am a One, and not a Zero. My room is climate controlled to keep me from experiencing the harsh outside elements. Plant life is effectively gone from the war that created The State. A mesh screen covers the space between the apartment complexes protecting the Earth from the Sun’s destructive rays. In the beginning, the State worked hard to create sameness, safety, and in the process, the Earth suffered. Because of that, we live in a building, never leaving, and our only jobs are to Watch the person across the way.

Groceries, repairs to my work laptop, puzzles and books to pass the time, are all delivered by a robot. There’s one robot per floor, and they are serviced by other robots in the center portion of each building. My food for today has already been delivered: eggs, a piece of bread, cherry tomatoes, and a small piece of chicken. There are labs on other floors that grow the food we eat. Apartments exist along the edge, connected by a single hallway patrolled by Security. Exercise is important, and people are often seen walking and chatting lightly about their puzzles or what they’re reading about.

I’ll be promoted soon from my current position but, until then, I Watch this Zero, and report back. We all either Watch or are Watched. I am honored to be chosen for this promotion. I know it will come with more work, supervision, more responsibility, but I’m excited to show my dedication to The State. It’s a privilege I’ve been looking forward to for so long now. The only problem is that I must participate in Breeding Season first, and I don’t know when that will be, or what I’ll have to do. Nevertheless, it’s time to start my day.

The Zero I watch somehow has computer communication privileges, to talk to other Zeroes on his floor. I Watch through my laptop’s monitor. A red ring flashes around my device to show that I can see what is going on with my Zero's computer, silently eavesdropping. They have a green light that comes on around the top edge of their laptop to show that they are being watched. I monitor their conversation from my room:

My Zero: 372, how are you?

We aren’t supposed to call each other names other than One or Zero. We all have titles to live by, to maintain sameness, safety. I Mark this.

Other Zero: Not bad, how about you?

My Zero: Same old, same old. How’s work?

Other Zero: You getting that promotion soon?

My Zero: Who knows at this rate.

Disdain for The State, I have to Mark that. Someone won’t be getting that promotion as soon as they thought.

Other Zero: What’s the hangup?

My Zero: You know how it is, they’ll tell you when they tell you.

Other Zero: Fair. You meet all your quotas?

My Zero: I’ve been beating them for the last two months.

Other Zero: Damn, dude, that sucks.

I Mark: swear words, slang, disrespectful attitude towards The State, possible dedication breach.

The rules are clear. Any disdain against The State, or fraternization with someone who shows disdain against The State, is immediately Culled.

I flash this warning across my Zero’s screen, and I Watch, through the glass wall across the way as my Zero flails at their screen, turns to me, and yells something. I turn on the microphone in their apartment, through the swear words I hear “this whole goddamned State” and I call security. “Cell 2583. Come immediately.”

A minute later, after the Zero was forcibly removed from their room, I get a message on my laptop that calls for a meeting with my Surveillor first thing tomorrow.

The next day:

“By this time their apartment is in ruin: clothes pulled from the shelves and rack, the refrigerator opened and its contents on the floor. Dishes were thrown and broken. Then they pull the computer from the wall, I see the screen flash then turn off. Finally, they acknowledge me by using their middle finger as a sort of salutation just as Security arrives.”

“Thank you for your quick intervention, One. Keep up the good work,” my Surveilor says. “You are dismissed.”

“Thank you, Xir.” Gender, race, religion, unnecessary constructs of society are remnants of a warfilled, undeserving, and unhappy society. Peace has been achieved, but we must stay vigilant against one another, specifically Zeroes, to maintain the luxury, privilege.

“Oh, One?” they say.

“Yes, Xir?”

“Breeding Season starts tomorrow. Take the rest of the day off, because your Zero was Culled, and read

up for that. A replacement will be in shortly.”

“Yes, Xir. Thank you for allowing me the honor of participating.” They know this is my first Breeding Season, and that I’m a potential liability. I’m glad I have ample time to study and learn.

In my studies, I learn that nine months after Breeding Season, all the children are collected and raised by the robots, neutrally. Ones and Zeroes breed with their respective titles, the Earth outside is too inhospitable to go between buildings. That’s why our buildings are self-sufficient, and why we have robots to grow our food. If we all have the same job, title, there is no reason for conflict. No one asks why they were chosen for this role or that role. Our Security officers participate in Breeding Season as well, but their process for being chosen to remain is not listed in my documents. If the robot who brings me groceries breaks down, I can message my Surveillor, but I don’t know how they get fixed. These things aren’t important to know as long as they’re getting done, and not causing rifts. We must maintain peace as a society and not ask too many questions about why or how.

A low whirring rumbles outside my room, stops, then continues after a soft thud. My groceries and injections have arrived. I bring them in: marinated fish, quinoa, sweet potatoes, and added vitamins. I prepare them in silence, and eat the meal in silence, I’ll remember to take my medications before bed, and leave them in the crate my food was delivered in. I have nothing to say, my meal is delicious, I need my medications and vitamins, it’s all standard. My room is standard: minimal furniture, clothing, space. It was built for efficiency for one. I’ve wondered, to myself, what it would be like to have another person living with me, but I don’t tell anyone that. I’d lose my job immediately, just for thinking about breaking protocol. Once I’m done with my bedtime routine, I set my grocery crate outside of the front door for the robot to take away. I lay in bed reading through the Breeding Season material again. All I know is my protocol, I don’t need to know anything else.

Chapter One

The next day I awake normally for the first day of Breeding Season, the automatic lights slowly increase in intensity over a few minutes, just like they do everyday. I did laundry yesterday, my clothes are ready on the shelf and hanger. My chair and desk live at the window facing the Zeroes room, across the way. A knock at my door comes, the other One is here to watch their Zero. I turn on the room mic across the way, hear the other Zero enter as I let the other One in my room.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hello,” they reply.

“Come in.”

“Yes.”

They’ve brought their chair, standard protocol. I make room for it next to mine and slide the table over so we can both use it for notes. I notice immediately that, while the rest of their gear is standard issue, they are using a paper notepad and pen, not protocol. Do I say anything, or will that affect my reports? My subtle concern does not go unnoticed.

“Oh, the notepad. My machine is getting repaired,” they say.

Phew, I thought. I didn’t want to have to Mark two people in two days.

“What was wrong with it?” I ask sincerely.

“One of the buttons keeps sticking. It affects my ability to report.” Their mannerisms are strange to me. I do not have many people I would call friends here, but it seems like this person is trying to be less than cordial. Maybe this Breeding Season is an unpleasant experience and they loathe the idea of sitting through it again. Oh, well. There’s no reason to speculate.

“I can see how it would. But where did you learn to write?” I ask earnestly.

“They gave me a work-book to practice with,” they say.

“Ah.”

“Is this your first Breeding Season?” the other One asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“Mine, too.” Interesting. It’s protocol that you’re paired with an experienced One or Zero for this situation. I wonder what happened, but not all that much. I realize I’ve been conversing and neglecting my duties.

“Why are they taking off all of their clothes?”

“It doesn’t matter, just Mark it.” Following protocol. Good, some normalcy.

“Why are they touching each other? That’s forbidden.”

“Just document everything, it’s not our decision to decide what’s going on,” they say, somewhat annoyed or...I can’t tell, but not comfortable or happy.

This went on for about 10 minutes, we followed protocol as best we can, then the other Zero laid in bed for a while.

“Good,” the other One said.

“What is your Zero doing?”

“Mine is the one of the two that will carry the offspring. Laying down assists the breeding process.” I don’t remember reading that in my books. It didn’t explain that only one of them would be carrying a child. How do they know what I don’t know?

“Ah, I see. Good indeed,” I say to fake knowledgeability.

“Your Zero should not be laying down, they should be leaving,” the other One says.

“I’ve already documented it.”

“Good,” they said.

After another about one minute of my Zero laying next to the other Zero, I called Security. I could see my Zero hurriedly jump up and replace their clothes, their reproductive organs on display.

“Huh,” I unintentionally say out loud. I notice that my Zero has the same reproductive organs. Does this mean I cannot carry a child? That’s a shame. I wonder what it feels like.

“What?” they say, startling me from my disdainful thoughts.

“Oh, nothing.” They’re definitely going to Mark that. I do my best to go back to focusing on my duties, but it’s...unusually difficult.

Once Security opened the door, and my Zero was clothed and ready to leave, they motioned for them to go, allowing the other Zero to lay in bed. I turn on the hallway camera so I can keep watching my Zero from my laptop, who is leaning against the wall right outside of their room. Security waits with them.

“Are you staying while they are waiting?” I ask.

“As is protocol.”

“Would you like a glass of water?”

They paused for a moment, “Yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” I only have one glass, but I have plenty of soap to wash it later.

As I set it down on the table, the other One’s fingers touch mine, and, oh! The rush that washed through my body made me almost drop the glass. I can’t explain it.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. Touching another person is forbidden, we bow to each other as a sign of respect, but no physical contact is allowed.

“No, it’s my fault. I guess I was thirsty,” they say. We share a chuckle. That’s not explicitly against protocol.

They finish taking notes, return the glass to the sink, gather their chair and leave once their Zero starts putting on their clothes.

“Well, goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” I watch both their Zero and this One leave. I’ll see them tomorrow for the next day of Breeding Season. My Zero reenters their room.

Then a knock comes at the door again.

“Oh! Hello again,” the One is back.

“Would it be alright if I left my chair here, out of the way by your desk?

“Well, I don’t see why not,” knowing full well that my Zero is on duty, Surveilling me. If I’m Marked for it, it should make sense to whoever reads the document.

“Thanks, it makes the walk over easier.”

“I see.”

“Well, see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. Bye,” I say.

I remember that I didn’t take my medication. I wonder if taking it late will affect me too much, and resign to not taking it.

I wonder, while brushing my teeth before bed, what my time will be like, when I’m chosen for Breeding Season. What does it feel like? What will it be, following protocol, of course, like touching another person in that manner? Will it be like what happened today? What will happen once the offspring has grown enough inside another person? I know offspring are given to the robots to raise, but what is it like to carry a child? How do they come out? What is it like to be so close to a person like that? To create a person? It must be something special, to be part of creating a person, to be worth trying.

The next day, the other One shows up on time, just as the other Zero enters the room.

“Hello,” I say.

“Hi there,” they say.

“I see you got your machine back.”

“It was on my doorstep this morning.”

“Efficient,” I say, unsure of another appropriate phrase.

We take our seats. The Zeroes remove their clothes and begin the process again.

“What are they doing now?”

“Hormones can be shared orally. Make sure you Mark it, it’s not protocol,” the other One replied, with a glimmer in their eye. What books have they read that I didn’t?

“Definitely,” should I Mark what I saw from this One? Does it matter?

“Did yours start or did mine?” I ask, confused by their facial manner.

“I’m not sure, but mine is- on top? That’s not protocol. I should Mark that.”

“Yes, of course,” I say.

After One is done writing, I hesitate, just curious - and we’ll be here for a short time - so I ask: “Have you...participated in Breeding Season...yet?”

“No, not yet. I’ve just read books on it,” they also read books, like me. People are given the option to read books as a child or read from laptops. The robots that teach us decide what is best for us.

“Me, too.”

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the other One starts, “How soon is your Breeding Season?” I don’t know whether to Mark this or not, but I enjoy the conversation. Maybe I shouldn’t, but it feels right.

“I’m not sure, maybe a year or so,” I reply. I know the days pass by the lighting in my apartment, but months are irrelevant, a concept I don’t fully understand.

“That’s not that far off,” they muse.

“It’s only as far as it is,” that doesn’t even make sense, and I grimace from the awkwardness.

“I...I guess so,” they say. Goodness, I’ve made a fool of myself. They’re definitely Marking that. That’s definitely why they’re smirking at me.

“H- how far out are you from Breeding Season? If you’re comfortable answering, that is,” I ask.

“I guess about a year as well. Thank you for asking if I was comfortable answering.” No one is given more than a week's notice for participating in Breeding Season, as is protocol. That’s just enough time to prepare for the insemination process. I’d assume Culling needs to be taken into consideration, and timelines or who is eligible changes based on who is available for Breeding Season.

“Ah,” I say.

“Wait, what are they doing?” they say. I see my Zero using their hand on their Zeroes reproductive organs.

“Maybe it’s protocol?” I say, assuming.

“I’ll just Mark it,” the other One says. But why would they use their hands on their reproductive organs? Those are only supposed to be inserted into each other’s reproductive organs. I feel a small rise from my genitals, and shift slightly to hide the movement.

“Good. Protocol.”

“Yes,” this One says, I see the smallest of smirks on their face again.

Finally, the two Zeroes begin the Breeding process, but I can see the other One is uncomfortable and keeps shifting in their chair.

“Is your chair uncomfortable? Would you like to sit on a pillow?” I ask. Do they feel what I feel?

“Oh, no thank you. That’s not necessary.” Their face turns red, but I don’t know why.

“Are you ok? Your face is red.”

“It’s nothing. Sorry if I caused any stress.”

“You didn’t.” This doesn’t seem like something I should Mark.

“They were faster this time,” the other One said after some time.

“They were. I hope that doesn’t affect their efficacy.”

“I don’t think it does,” they mused, the same smirk on their face. Was it intentional, or has something we said before kept them in an interesting mood?

Just then a knock came at my door, followed by a robotic whirring. I must have gotten a package.

“What could that be?” I wonder aloud.

“Groceries?” the other One asks.

“I’ve gotten them for this week already.”

In a standard brown box, with my room number on the package, is a parcel labeled “Breeding Materials” on my doorstep.

“Huh, I’ve been called for Breeding Season,” I say.

“I thought you said you had a year.”

“I guess not.”

“Maybe it’s also my time.”

“Maybe,” I say absentmindedly, my mind on what sort of information I will learn.

“It doesn’t look like a painful experience.” One notices my discomfort, concern, apprehension. Those things can bring Marks for disloyalty, non-dedication.

“I’m excited to participate,” I fake as much enthusiasm as is allowed. “It’s my duty as a person.”

“Yes, exactly,” One continues typing.

The Zeroes have finished and their Zero is resting now. My Zero puts on their clothes to leave. They exchange words and I turn on the microphone in their room.

“That was fun, we should do that again,” my Zero says, chuckling.

“Haha, yea. See you tomorrow then,” the other Zero says, and exits. I watch my Zero on my laptop, as they get up to leave and enter the hallway, just standing by the doorway like the day before.

“I guess I could watch my Zero from here. No sense in walking around with my face stuck in my machine,” One says.

“Ah, yea. You don’t want to run into the delivery robots.” They’re always roaming the halls, along with Security. One could run into them and miss something.

“Oh,” One says.

“Yes?”

“Nothing, just something I have to Mark.” They look intently at my screen. I wonder briefly what the Zero is doing, but I don’t see anything wrong. They start walking away from the room, then stop, and turn back around. I look briefly at the other One’s Zero across the way.

Just then my Zero enters the room again, and gently embraces the other Zero, still laying in the bed.

“Oh, I see what you meant,” I say, the microphone was still on in their room.

“I just- never mind. Sorry,” my Zero says through my laptop’s speakers.

“Security, come to Cell 2583. Unsanctioned contact,” One says.

Security arrives, attempts to drag my Zero away, but they go willingly and they are not pulled by force. How did Security come so quickly?

“Interesting,” I whisper.

“What?” the other One heard me.

“I just wonder why they would break protocol, knowing the consequences,” I say, flustering away from confusion surrounding Security.

“There’s no reason to wonder, just Mark your Zero’s reaction,” One looks intently at their screen. I can’t figure out what kind of emotion they’re feeling, I see beads of perspiration on their forehead. I decide not to Mark anything, maybe they haven’t dealt with Security as much as I have.

“Already on it.” I hope they don’t Mark me in the meantime.

“It is interesting,” the other One says after some time.

“What? Oh, yes,” I say, trying to maintain focus. I must have forgotten my injections. I’ve taken them most of my life, but I still remember what it felt like before taking them.

“Protocol is clear. There’s to be no contact after procreation. Why did they go back?” One says while watching their Zero on their screen.

“I have no idea. Maybe they forgot an article of clothing and were looking around, and we misinterpreted what happened,” I ponder aloud.

“That’s possible, but we could hear them apologize.”

“True. Our Surveilers will know what to do, and what happened.” It’s best not to worry about what you don’t know.

“Yes,” One still seemed concerned, confused. I wonder how to ease that worry. What is this feeling?

One’s Zero returns back to their apartment, and One packs their belongings up to leave.

“Well, see you tomorrow,” they say.

“Yes, good bye!” I say with a smile. They look at me with a new glimmer, happiness? Calm? I don’t know what to call it, but I enjoy the look, the feeling it gives me.

Day three of Breeding Season begins...differently. I awake with a strange feeling from my genitalia. It’s...firm. It goes away once I use the restroom, and I don’t let the symptom of missing my injections bother me much.

One arrives normally, they’re chirpy even.

“Hey, how was your night?” they ask.

“It was fine, just caught up on a book and did some puzzles. Same as always.” I can feel the same firmness coming back in my pants, and I turn quickly and excuse myself to the restroom while One sets up their machine. I hope they don’t notice anything and Mark me. After adjusting to hide future firmness, I confidently walk back out. One turns and looks at me, their eyes flash to my pants, and back up, smiling slightly, then looking back, and it happens again. They’re definitely Marking me for that, but I can easily explain the situation away to my Surveillor. They will surely understand.

Once again, for the last time this season, the Zero’s begin the breeding process, but this time their actions elicit another reaction from me. I don’t know if I can hide it. I try to cross my legs, shift away from One, hide the fact that I forgot my medication, that I was not dedicated to the State for a moment.

“Did you forget your medication, too?” they ask finally.

“What? I mean, yes, unfortunately. I was just making dinner and I forgot to take the injections.”

“It happens. I won’t say anything,” they say with some smirk, I have no idea what it means. We resign to focusing on work.

“Could I get another glass of water?” One asks.

“Sure, one moment,” but when I stand, I feel my organ stiffen, uncontrollably. I turn quickly to hide it, and walk quickly to the sink and cabinet.

It’s not noticeable, it’s not noticeable. You won’t get Marked, I keep telling myself. You can handle this, I tell myself.

I bring the water glass over, just as the Zero’s are finishing, accidentally looking at One’s screen, and I see the other Zero reach for something in their back pocket.

“What are they doing-” I point and gently brush against their hand. I felt not only the warmth, but a reaction through my body, like I ate something that tastes just perfect. It was like sticking my finger in a light socket, I imagine, the way electrical impulses trigger and power our bodies. I could feel my face grow hot. I looked at the other One, whose face was less shocked by the gesture, though unintentional. Next thing I know, I see a flash on the screen, and it catches the whole of our attention spans. The other Zero is on the ground, a dark liquid pooling around their body, what I would guess is blood through a black and white camera.

Security must have discharged their weapons, but why were they already there? Something shiny is in my Zero’s hand, Security kicks it away from their lifeless body.

“I wasn’t Watching,” they said.

“It looks like they pulled a makeshift weapon and Security dispatched them,” I say quickly to diffuse their anxiety. Suddenly, this job isn’t my whole life, just for a moment. All I care about is soothing One.

“Yes, that must have been it. Security will surely say the same thing. But what if they said something? I wasn’t watching their mouth.”

“There’s no microphones in the hallways, there’s no way you would’ve known,” I say, reassuringly. They were clearly flustered by my unplanned touch, which caused them to lapse in their work.

“Right, yes. I should call Security to double check what happened.”

“Smart. Get all the information you can, after they dispose of the body.”

“Yes, absolutely,” they say. One’s face is pale from witnessing the violence. I wonder if I shouldn’t touch their shoulder, despite the rules. They clearly need someone to ease their stress.

“You can stay here and calm down if you’d like.” Maybe they’ve never seen such violence, despite any warrants for it. It’s never easy.

“Yes, I’d like to compose myself,” they say, taking longer breaths and shaking less.

“Have you ever seen someone get Dispatched?”

“No,” they said shakily.

“It’s not easy.”

“Your Zero was removed from their room just before Breeding Season, right?” we shouldn’t be talking about it, but I’m sure word travels fast when our lives are so small.

“Yes, watching them get pulled from their room, just after...rummaging through it, was hard. Not as hard as watching someone die,” I’m not consoling very well, I think.

“No, it’s very different. Could I have another glass of water?”

“Of course.” Their Zero is still laying in bed, but on their stomach, head tucked into their arms. I hear a muffled noise through my laptop speakers, but I’m not sure what it is.

“Are they…crying?” the other One asks.

“I...I don’t know. I would guess as much.”

“It is sad, to hear someone get killed right outside your door.”

“I suppose so, but why did they have a makeshift weapon? They had to know what Security would do,” I say.

The other One shifts in their seat uncomfortably. Then, after a pause, they say:

“Maybe they’re a Two.”

“What?” I asked.

“A Two, you know, there’s Ones and Zeroes who make up our society, and then there’s Twos who live outside of it.”

“Where do they live? How do they get outside? I’ve never heard of this.”

“I’ve only heard about it in passing, I don’t know any details,” suddenly they’re very nervous, like they shouldn’t have known that Two’s exist.

“That’s interesting for sure. Maybe our Surveilers know more. I should ask them tomorrow.”

“No! Don’t!” I looked quizzically at the other One, their outburst seemed entirely unnecessary.

“Why not?”

“Well, they’ve got...a lot on their plates. Not enough time for hypotheses,” they say after the slightest of pauses.

“I suppose that’s fair. Maybe they already know about the Twos,” that is a logical reason, I think.

“Oh I’m sure. They know everything.”

“Yea, you’re right,” I said, but the other One shifted again. “Here’s your water.”

“Oh, thank you.” They quickly finished half the glass, clearly they were nervous about something, but it doesn’t seem like anything worth Marking.

“Well, I better get going,” they still have half a glass of water.

“Ok, I guess I won’t see you tomorrow,” I say.

“Maybe I’ll be reassigned by then,” they say.

“Well, don’t forget your chair, anyways.”

“Oh, yes, exactly. Thank you.” Why are they still so frazzled?

While doing some light stretches before bed, I looked across at my Zero, watching me, making notes about my activities, and I wondered what they’re thinking. I could try to communicate with them, ask them about their Breeding Activities, get a better idea of what I’ll experience. When we are getting watched we are only supposed to do things that get us ready for the next day, like eating, laundry, or maybe a puzzle game to pass the time and keep the mind sharp, and take care of ourselves. I don’t know how my first Zero had privileges to contact another person electronically. I guess it gets lonely, but there are some books and materials to read here to keep my mind focused elsewhere. Then, I notice the door open across the way, and Security coming for my Zero. I watch in horror as they beat my Zero senseless with batons, rifle butts.

“Stop, what are you doing?!” I yell to no one. They cannot hear me. Doesn’t Security know they’re trying to create an offspring? You’d think they would’ve taken that into account. Security drags my Zero’s lifeless body out and a new Zero walks in.

Maybe that Zero was a Two.

It’s awfully strange that so much change is going on. I wonder what’s brought it all about.

I resolve not to dwell on it. It’s not my place to make these decisions.

I arise with the automatic lights the next day, after not sleeping the night before, and there’s immediately a knock on my door.

“Hello,” two Security guards stand in the hallway.

“You are to report to your Surveiler before your duties. We are to escort you now.”

“Uh, yes, ok. Just give me a minute to change-”

“No. You are to report now. This way,” one of them says, stepping out of the doorway for me to walk through.

I’ve walked through this hallway to meet my Surveiler before, but never after so much turmoil. I hope I haven’t been Marked. I don’t have much time to dwell anyways, my Surveiler is just a floor down.

“One, sit down,” my Surveiler says. “I noticed you’ve had a lot of...incidents occur with your Zeroes. Care to explain why?”

“I- I’m not sure how to answer. They were all out of my control.”

“You had no interaction, physical or otherwise, with these Zeroes?”

“None at all, I only Surveilled them from my room.”

“I see. What do you know about Twos?”

Whoa. “Not much, which is to say that they live outside The State, or maybe outside of these buildings. I can’t be sure of anything.”

“Take the rest of the day off. More books will be brought to your room, or whatever activities you usually do. These incidents are under investigation as we speak. You are not being reprimanded, but we must understand what’s happening. You may go now.”

“I understand, Zir. Thank you for being forward about the situation.”

“Keep on the look out for any suspicious activity. Even if it doesn’t seem suspicious, Mark it even in your off time. That’s for me to decide,” they said. I definitely felt like I was getting reprimanded.

“Yes, Zir. Goodbye.” They didn’t say anything as I left.

Security escorted me back to my room.

As I’m changing, a knock comes at my door. It’s probably those extra books my Surveiler mentioned.

“Hi!” it’s the other One.

“Oh, hi! I wasn’t expecting you.” Why are they here?

“I think I left my chair here yesterday,” they say, looking over my shoulder at my room.

“Uh, no you took it home with you when you left.”

“Oh, right. Sorry to bother you!” They left in a bit of a hurry, and I saw them pull something from their pocket and replace it.

“Weird,” I say too softly for the microphone to hear.

Then I hear another knock at my door.

“Did you remem- oh, hi.” Security was at my door.

“What did that One want?”

“They thought they left their chair here.”

“I see. Carry on.” The officer hands me some books and leaves.

After a relaxing day, two books and some puzzles throughout the day, it’s time for bed. My lights start to dim. As I leave the bathroom from brushing my teeth, then the door opens. It’s the other One again. They are standing directly on the other side of me from my Zero’s perspective, and my room camera, just out of view.

“Don’t move,” they say, I freeze while they look over my shoulder. The lights dim and they say: “Ok, face me now.” I do. Then they come closer to my face.

“What are you-” they put their finger on my lips, telling me to be quiet. Then, with gentle hesitation, as if their intentions were set but still unsure, they leaned in and gently touched my lips with theirs.

It happened again, the same intense full-body reaction that flooded my body before, but it was so much more intense this time. So as to not alert my Zero, they motion to the bed with their eyes. I turn and walk slowly towards the bed, so the One is hidden from sight behind my body. They crouch down on the floor by the bed when they’re close enough, and wait. I get in bed and wait for the lights to go down all the way so they can sneak in bed, leaving my Zero unaware.

I hear a gentle click and know the microphone is on, and I pretend to snore lightly. I don’t know whether or not I snore, but I snore long enough and soft enough to hear the click come again. I look over at my Zero and see their head facing their machine.

“Now!” I whisper, and the other One climbs into bed with me.

“Why did you touch my lips like that?” I whisper.

“It’s called a kiss, and you do that when you like someone.”

“But we work together, you don’t have to like me.”

“I mean like on a deeper level, where I want to be with you.”

“Ok, you are with me. Now what?”

“Whatever you want.”

“What is all this? What are you doing?”

“I’ve been reading up on my Breeding Season materials, and I think I got an older version, because they mention kissing and holding hands, and that all sounds lovely, and I...I….”

“You what?” I ask.

“I wanted to...to kiss you, and hold your hands.”

“Well, why?”

“When you touched my hand I just, I felt like, well, I knew you, even though we met only two days ago.”

“How do you mean you knew me?”

“It’s hard to explain,” they genuinely seemed like they didn’t know how to answer the question.

“Well, then what did you come over for?”

“To see you, to tell you how I felt. I had to time it so the guards wouldn’t see me and take me back to my room. I’ve been taking regular walks, too, so my Zero wouldn’t think anything of it.”

“But didn’t they see you come in here?”

“I don’t care, I just want to be with you,” they said.

“We could get Culled, or killed.”

“Then let’s make it worth it,” and they kissed me again. All the stress from consequences melted with their touch. They pull me closer, remove my pants down and touch my reproductive organ.

“Oh...”

“What?”

“You have a penis,” they said.

“A what? Oh, this?”

“I don’t know how this will work. I also have a penis.”

“I don’t know either.”

“Maybe...well, I don’t know.”

“What are you thinking?”

“Well, if you’re ok with it.”

“Ok with what?”

“I guess, I could put my penis... in your anus.”

“...But… I defecate from there, and I just washed my sheets. What’s the point?”

“Well, it would feel amazing. There’s a pleasure zone up in there called the prostate. Plus, it would be hard to hide the movement in your bed if you used your mouth, but we can try it,” they say.

“I...guess those are the only two options...”

“So, could I, please, put my penis...in your anus?”

“Um, does it hurt?”

“No, but we should probably get some lubricant.”

“What for?”

“It makes things smoother,” they said.

“Well, I’d have to get out of bed for that. What else could we do?”

“We could use our saliva.”

“Yea that should work,” I said, clueless, nervous, excited.

They removed their pants slowly, so the Zero didn’t notice.

“You should turn around,” they said.

I twisted slowly, also pulling my pants down, waiting in anticipation.

“What are you doing?”

“Making my penis erect.”

“How do you do that?”

“Like this,” they took my hand and rubbed it on their organ. I could feel it stiffen in my hand. The sensation was just...oh.

“Will mine do that again?” thinking of how I missed my injections, finally realizing they affected my...what was the word again?

“Yes,” and I start rubbing mine.

“It’s so soft.”

“So is yours.”

He pushed himself inside me slowly and I moaned.

“Shhhh, just relax...there you go,” they said.

“Ah,” and I obeyed.

It felt exquisite, like nothing I’ve ever felt. I let out another soft moan.

Then we heard the click, the microphone turned on again and we weren’t alone.

They cover my mouth with their hand, frozen. We have no idea how long we’ll wait for the next click, or if the Zero can see the other One’s hand over my mouth. All the while they slowly push their organ deeper inside me. Oh, so slowly. The pleasure is insane, feeling their long penis just...keep...going. A minute passes and they’re still pushing, ever so slowly. Then I feel something deep inside me awaken and I shift, stifling the tiniest of moans. My eyes roll back into my head, I feel them keep pushing, then their organ pulsed and I twitch. I finally get my eyes locked forward on my Zero, they’re looking at their machine. The other One has smaller organs, much squishier than the one inside me pushing into my buttocks; that sensation lets me know their penis is fully inside me. I let out the tiniest groan. My Zero looks up again, waits for a bit. We hear the microphone click off. I let out the moan I’ve been holding in for so long, then there’s a noise outside. It’s a robot, leaving groceries. I’m sure.

Just then, the other One starts moving in and out of me at a much faster rate, my breath hitches and I let out a another noise.

Fluid oozes out of my organ. I’m reminded of the time I was a child and woke up with fluid in my bed: Before classes, I woke up one morning and my penis was hard, like this other One’s is now, inside me, slowly shrinking. It got hard again in the middle of class, and my Teacher called out to me.

“One, are you all right?”

“There is something strange happening to me that I can’t explain.”

“Please describe it to me so I can further assist you,” Teacher said. All jobs besides watching are taken by robots.

“Well, I- uh.” I didn’t know what to say, so I stood up, my penis was fully hard. Everyone in the class looked away, confused, bewildered.

“I see,” Teacher said. “You must go to the clinic now. I will send you the rest of today’s lesson. It will be at your door when you return to your room.”

“Thank you for the advice, Teacher,” I said, and left the room, in full shame of my abnormality.

Once I got to the clinic, the robot could see what was happening immediately, and called me in without checking in at the front desk. I follow them to a room nearby room and sit down on the bench.

“Hello One. I can see your affliction. Please tell me when this started,” the doctor robot asked.

“Just today, as far as I’m aware. I woke up and my bed had some strange substance in it.”

“Well, I’m glad we caught it early. I’m going to give you an injection that will make these situations go away. It is a very effective treatment, but you must take it every month. Do you consent?”

Now that I think about it, as an adult who can contribute to the population via Breeding Season, I did not have all the information about what I had been injecting myself with.

“Yes, I consent.”

I roll up my sleeve, as is protocol, and the robot injects my arm with the solution. I feel the fluid fill up my arm after the smallest prick when the needle is inserted into my skin, but the whole process is painless otherwise.

“You will need to come back once a month until you are an adult, and then the medication will be delivered to your door with your regular groceries. Do you have any questions?”

“Will I wake up with...this again?” I ask.

“You shouldn’t, but if you do, don’t hesitate to come back. We will help you through this.”

“Thank you,” I say, and leave, suddenly slightly dizzy.

“Are you feeling anything abnormal?” the robot says.

“I- everything- uh- is spinning?”

“We will have a wheel chair for you to get back to your room. Do not worry. This is normal. You are sick and in the process of healing.”

“I see,” I say, still not comforted by the situation. I am wheeled back to my room by this robot.

I wake up the next day, still groggy.

Coming out of the flashback, I think to ask the expert in these matters.

“What is this?” I whisper.

“The fluid that males make to impregnate women.”

“Oh- ohhhhh.” They cover my mouth and I obey with silence. They keep moving in and out, slowly then faster, then they push hard with a final insertion deep inside me. They leave it there, then slowly pull out, their fluid deep inside of me. I let out an audible gasp as my anus returns to its original position.

Then there’s a knock at the door. Security calls to open the door.

“Oh no, hide!” I whisper.

“Where?!” they say frantically.

Security opens the door just then and the lights come up.

We are caught.

We quickly tried to pull our pants back on, failing. They start beating us in the bed, not saying a word. We yell asking them to stop, then we’re dragged out of the bed and through the hall. I manage to get up and walk alongside, but the other One isn’t yet.

“Where are you taking us?” I beg to know.

“To be Culled,” the Security officer responds.

“What?! No! We won’t do it again!” the other One pleads.

“Quiet!” Security yells, and the other One whimpers after taking a blow to the shoulder.

We walk in silence, not knowing what’s happening next. We get in the elevator, they push the button that says “O” and keep holding us tightly. I’ve never been more scared, I look at the other equally scared One and calm just slightly as we make eye contact. What is happening? Why am I calmer just by looking at them?

“How much longer?” I ask.

“Quiet!” the Security officer holding me strikes.

The elevator stops, the doors open to a barren hard ground, and we are pushed out. The doors close and the elevator ascends.

“So, that’s it?” I ask.

“How will we get food? Where will we sleep? How will we shower and take care of ourselves? We’ll be stuck surviving for the rest of our lives. Ugh I’m so stupid. I shouldn’t have come over,” the other One falls to their knees, inconsolable.

We are surrounded by massive buildings, our apartment complexes. I couldn’t begin to describe how tall they are. Under our feet is some sort of hard substance with a faded yellow line down the center. Poles stand on each of the corners with arms leaning into the intersection. Large yellow structures with three circles on them dangle ominously, hanging as if dead. It's dark, like our rooms when it is time to sleep, but through the mesh screen above our heads I can see a light blue, the atmosphere.

“Psst,” we hear from around the corner of the building. We’re standing in the shade outside of the home and a shadow moves just outside of the corner of our eyes. We look quizzically at each other and follow the figure. Once we get to where the figure is, we hesitate, then peek around to see a cloaked figure stopped, staring at us.

“Did you just get Culled?” they called out.

“Yes,” the other One said sheepishly.

“Come with me,” this cloaked figure says.

We follow closely behind them in our sleeping clothes and suddenly some liquid started coming down from the sky in small droplets.

“Hurry, the rain will burn you,” the cloaked figure calls. My skin starts itching.

“Are we there yet?” the other One asks. Ahead is a large kind of fence.

“We’re close,” the new person says.

We start...walking faster. I don’t know what it’s called, but I’ve never moved so fast. There were moments when we weren’t touching the ground.

“Run with me, the gate is closing!” That must be what it’s called.

Ahead I could see a see-through wall looking to be made of criss crossed metall, it was slowly closing. We started moving faster towards it, narrowly making it through. We immediately make it into a makeshift building.

“They were just Culled, I had to bring them.”

“Good job, Coda, let’s get them inside,” another person said. This person had long graying hair and walked slowly, they must be ailing in some way.

“What’s wrong with them?” the other One asked.

“They’re old. That’s what happens when you grow old,” Coda said in an agitated tone.

“It’s ok, they don’t know. Just bring them inside to get some clothes.”

“Why would I want new clothes?” I say.

“I guess you can keep them for a while, until you make your new ones.”

“Wait,” I stop, “What is this place?”

“Come on, get some sleep and we’ll tell you in the morning.”

Chapter Two

We walk into a makeshift building of unknown materials. It doesn’t look very waterproof, but inside it’s dry and warm. There’s a strange glowing heat source in the room. I stare at it, absolutely baffled at what is happening and what it is. Someone holding, well, it looks like a broom handle, without bristles, sets it down and greets us.

“Welcome, we’re glad to have you.”

“What is this place?” I ask.

“This is The Outside, where all who were Culled, or Twos, live. I am one of our Elder leaders, Georgia.”

“And you’re just allowed to live here?” the other One asks.

“The State isn’t that big, and they don’t focus on Security from the Outside. We live peacefully just beside of them.”

“So, what do we do now?” the other One asks. How can this relationship between The State and the Outside exist?

“Sleep for the night, if you want, but you can’t go out in the rain. You won’t last long. Do you two want to share a bed?” this Georgia asks.

“Yes,” the other One said quickly, “We have a lot to talk about.”

“I had a feeling that’s why you were Culled. Do whatever suits you. Good night.”

“Good night,” we said at the same time.

“How have we never heard of this place?” the other One whispers to me.

“I don’t know, I just need some rest so I can think properly tomorrow.”

“Could we snuggle?”

“What’s that?” I ask.

“Well, it’s when you lay next to someone, sometimes embracing them, just-” they pause for a moment, “Whatever feels right is fine by me,” I say. “Did they talk about it in that old book you got assigned?”

“Briefly,” they say.

“Well, that sounds nice. It’s cold out here, anyways.”

“I just have so many questions about this place,” the other One says.

“Yes, me, too. We’ll get answers in the morning.”

We resign to the bed, snuggling - I guess. The other One wraps their arm around me and it’s...comforting? I’ve never felt so warm, but, then again, I’ve never been this close to another person. Being this close to them almost makes me forget how terrified I am of this new, confusing, and entirely different place. Everything was explained or decided for me before, how will this life be?

“Rise and shine, new friends! I’m Ami! I’ll be giving you the tour today!”

We groggily look at the light coming from the door, a figure stands but we can’t make out who it is. The voice is someone we don’t know yet.

“Time for breakfast!” Ami chirps at us. Adjusting to the natural light is hard.

“Oh no,” I say aloud.

“What?” the other One responds.

“I don’t think these slippers will be sturdy enough for living outside.” On the hard surface directly outside of the elevator we were Culled from, this footwear would probably have been fine, but not on this dusty surface my feet rest on from the edge of the bed.

“Oh no,” the other One says.

“Don’t worry about shoes, we’ve made some for you!” Ami said, standing in the doorway, pointing at what looks like two outfits and sturdy but soft looking shoes at the end of our bed. I struggle to rub the sleep out of my eyes, but the clothes and shoes, albeit folded and stacked, seem to have a very imperfect, misshapen look to them.

“I’ll give you two a moment to change.”

We exit the building to meet Ami and see a group of people standing in a clearing. There are large tables and straight benches parallel to them. Off to my right there’s a sort of kitchen station, with a couple of fires and grates over where people have pans sitting on them. In the light, I can see the other structures in the compound: there are square buildings made with long round poles, and there are windows in them lined with glass. How do they make glass? How did they move what looks like such heavy objects? How did they get high enough to create an angled roof? I have so many questions.

“Wow,” the other One and I say in unison, theirs of awe, mine of skepticism.

“Never seen this many people before in one sitting?”

“No,” we say in unison.

“It can be a lot, just know that this is your new family, community, home, and we’re all here for each other!”

“This isn’t so bad,” the other One says. I’m still hesitant. I need to know more about this community.

“But what do you do for food and work?” I ask.

“We grow our own food, which is also our work, or at least one job. Other people are builders and they make our homes and barns. We just had a house open up, and you can check it out after you eat.” This Ami’s disposition quickly changes from friendly and outgoing to one of distress, and I can’t explain why.

“But first, what are your names going to be?” Ami asks, back to her outgoing personality.

“Well, can’t we just go by One?” I ask.

“Oh no, that won’t do. Everyone has their own name here! It’s much easier that way. We can help you if you like!” Ami says.

“Don’t you call yourselves Two’s?” I ask.

“No, only The State calls us that. We’re all individuals here,” Ami says.

“Hmm, that seems like it’ll be fun. Can we change it if we don’t like it?” the other One asks.

“Sure! Just register your new name with Mason, she’s the librarian.”

“Sorry, what’s a librarian?”

“You’ll see, she heads up the library. That’s our book room. She also tracks everyone’s name!”

“Wait,” I interrupt, “Why are you calling them she?”

“Here we acknowledge gender, that is your biological sex, if you choose to identify with it. You both are males, you would use he/him pronouns, if you want to be addressed that way. You could also be addressed as she/her if you feel that you are a woman! If you feel like you’re not really female or male, them has been used to describe people who feel this way, also known as non-binary.”

“Wow, we have so much to learn, it’s like a whole new language!” the other One says enthusiastically.

“But first, breakfast! Follow me!” Ami leads us into the group of people.

The food looked a lot like what we ate: they had fruits and veggies, but they also had white balls that they would crack onto a skillet and stir around. The product looked a lot like the eggs that we get, except they don’t come in a cardboard box like normally.

“Those are called eggs. They come from chickens,” Ami explains.

“Chickens make things? I had no idea!” the other One- or, whatever their, I mean, his name will be. We’ve had chicken before, but The State doesn’t tell us where they come from, and I don’t know what the animal looks like.

“Yea! Have you ever seen a live chicken? We can stop by their coop after you eat!”

“Wow!” the other One said.

My focus drifts from the tour of the Outside, and I start thinking about what my name would be. How do I create a name in practically a new language on the first day of being here? There’s too much going on. The people bustling around making food, running around with tasks I didn’t know existed until today, or names for them, making strange happy noises with one another. I need a quiet place to focus and think about my name and how I’m going to live in this society.

“Are you ok, there?” a hairy man, with...kind eyes, I thick, bushy facial hair, and bold colored clothes that had a slight smell to them, asked me.

“Uh, oh, yea. It’s just, a lot,” I say.

“I remember my first day. It was raining, too, and the water burned my skin as I ran to shelter. I wandered the streets for a day before someone found me and brought me in.”

“Rain, that’s what that’s called,” I say absentmindedly.

“Right.”

“I just, I don’t know how everyone came to be here. What my options are. Is this it? Do I have to stay here?” I say.

“We’ll get to that later, you need your strength. Eat whatever you’d like!” this person hands me a plate, and I grab some fruit, strips of what looked like meat that smell salty and divine, and this man holds and egg to me.

“How do you like them?”

“Oh, well, I’ve never-”

“Right, right, let me make my famous scrambled eggs with cheddar and - the ever decadent - Creme Frais for ya. How does that work for ya?”

“Well, if they’re famous they must be good!”

“You got that right!” and they laugh heartily, earnestly.

I watch in awe as they take two eggs, crack them both with one hand, dump the yellow and clear contents into the skillet, and start stirring. I’ve made scrambled eggs before, from a recipe, but the curdles in these eggs are very fine, the whole of this concoction is somewhat runny. Then he adds the cheddar cheese. I would get shredded cheese in a little bag, like this is, but I’m assuming that’s not how it starts out. They keep stirring, one hand with a spatula and the other holding the skillet over the same kind of heat source as was in the building we first entered. Then something dawns on me.

“What pronouns do you use?” I ask.

“I’m glad you brought that up, it’s good to start by asking someone their pronouns when you meet them. Mine are he/him.”

“Oh, and what’s your name?”

“Another good question. My name is Harold.”

“Harold, it’s nice to meet you. Thank you for making me eggs.”

“Well now don’t thank me until you’ve tried them!” we both express loud breaths with noise, like what other people are doing all around me.

“That’s called laughing, it makes you feel happy, or you do it when you’re happy,” Harold says, seeing my disconcerted expression. “Hey, let’s put your eggs on some fresh bread. It makes it easier to pick up and eat.”

“Thanks! I hope picking out a name is just as easy,” I say, still disconcerted.

“Usually, if people can’t figure out a name,” Harold starts, “they go to see Mason. She’s good at figuring out what name you look like you have.”

“People get names based on the way they look?” I’m thoroughly confused.

“It’s an old expression, from before this time. People would say ‘Oh, you look like a...Melissa, or a Jane, or a Thomas.’ Just consider it if you’re still working on names. Enjoy your eggs, friend!”

“Thank you,” I say smiling. All of a sudden-

“Hey, One, check this out!” the other One comes up to me, nearly running into me with excitement. Harold grabs my shoulder.

“But don’t, by any means, call each other One or Zero anymore,” Harold scolds. “Those ways are not ours, and they aren’t yours anymore either. The Elders worked hard to build a safe place for everyone. Furthermore, there were never Ones or Zeroes. You were told you were watching Zeros, and those ‘Zeroes’ were told they were also watching Zeroes.”

“What?! That’s absurd,” the other soon-to-be-former One said.

“It’s just another way that they can control you. Anyways, this is your only reminder to not use those titles. They didn’t want you, you no longer belong to them,” Harold says sternly. He reminds me of my Surveillor, but scarier.

“Right, thank you for telling us,” I say, more disconcerted, and take a seat next to the other One. Suddenly I feel a strong urge to find a new name, but try to calm down and focus on what’s happening in the moment.

“What did you get?” I ask the other...not One.

“Bacon, grits, and an… what was this called again?” they ask someone sitting next to us.

“Oh, that’s an omelet,” the person says with a mouthful of what looks to be grits.

“An omelet!” my friend from The State beams, eagerly digging in.

“I got scrambled eggs on toast with cheese, fruits, and some of these meaty strips,” I say.

“Oh someone told me that’s bacon, mind if I try them?” they ask.

“Sure!”

“Yay!” they say.

Oh, the cacophony in my mouth. The sweet and salty bacon crunches in my mouth, and there’s just enough fat that melts in my mouth and I crave another piece, but not before I try my main course. The eggs are silky smooth when I bite into the toast, so smooth that I use a fork to scoop up the pieces that fall off the toast.

“Would you like some more?” someone asks from behind. A person with a lovely face with near perfect symmetry. A beauty I’ve never seen before. The other One is too distracted to see Ami sit up straight and proper, like this person is her Surveillor.

“Oh, um, if it’s not too much to ask,” I respond. The other One has a mouth full of omelet, but notices their beauty and stares uncomfortably for a moment before becoming self-aware.

“Of course not! What would you like?” this person asks.

“Could I...try an omelet? Those smell nice.”

“Absolutely,” they look over at Harold and snaps their fingers, as if giving a command. Harold nods.

“Oh, wait! What are your pronouns?” I ask.

“And name,” the other One asks, the food has vacated their...his...mouth.

“You can call me Mason, and I use she/her pronouns. Thank you for asking!” It’s a good thing they- she, found us.

“Gotta practice whenever we can!” the other One says.

“What are your names?” Mason asks.

“Well, uh, we haven’t figured that out yet,” the other One says before biting into more bacon.

“But we both can use he/him pronouns, because we’re both males,” I say.

“Well, let me think,” Mason looks curiously at both of us, thinking hard, but I can’t figure out how their- her, brain is working. Ugh, this is going to take some getting used to, but I know I can do it.

“You look like a Frank,” she says to me and, pointing at the other One, “and you look like a Porter.”

We both look bewildered, but pleased. One task down for the day, and all we did was sit, eat, and meet people.

“Well, we can go by that, unless we hear another name we like.”

“Try not to use someone else’s name. Our compound isn’t big enough for two people with the same name,” Mason warns.

“That makes sense, thanks for the tip!”

“And the names!” One, I mean, Porter responds.

“If there’s anything you need at all, please let me know! Oh, here’s your omelet, Frank.”

“Thank you, Mason!”

The omelet is just as tasty as the scrambled eggs. Mushrooms, onions, and just enough cheese to ooze out the sides when I cut into it. My mouth waters as I taste the cheese, made from something I’ve never tried. Then I hear the strangest noise.

“Blaaaaaaa!” I turn and see a small creature with hard feet and pointed objects coming out of it’s head, a metal object that makes a dull “thunk” hangs around its neck; Georgia leads it. Porter and I jump at the noise, and again when we see the creature. Porter nearly leaps onto the table.

“What is that thing?” Porter asks, practically standing on the bench to avoid the creature.

“Oh that’s Bessie, our goat. She’s harmless, unless you’re hoarding her grain! She also makes some of our cheeses!” Georgia says, grinning at our reactions.

“How do you make cheese from a goat??” I say, more confused than I’ve ever been.

“How do you make cheese??” Porter asks.

“We take her milk-”

“Wait, she makes milk??” Porter asks.

“Hahaaa, you two have a lot to learn about agriculture. You should come check it out today! I run the farm,” Georgia suggests.

“What’s a farm?”

“Finish up here and I’ll show you! Ami, I’ll take them to the barn after this!”

“You got it!” she chirps back through a mouthful of bacon.

Porter and I eat as quickly as we can, take our plates over to a pile of dishes, and run after Georgia and Bessie.

“Wait, why have I never heard of goats, or any animal?” I ask.

“There’s a lot they keep from you in there. Most animals have been wiped out by climate change, but I’m working to breed more as our numbers grow and as we find them in the wild. We have goats, chickens, a couple of cows, horses to plow the fields. We are also trying to bring certain grains, vegetables, and fruits back as we find seed banks.”

“You just said about 18 words that mean absolutely nothing to me,” Porter responds, dumbfounded.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be helping out here and have plenty of time to learn the ropes,” Georgia laughs softly at our curiosity.

We walk to a large dirt field with rows and rows of green things sticking out of them. There’s a large building with lots of other strange noises coming out of them, maybe more creatures like Bessie. Beside the large building are more things on the ground inside of a clear structure with, wait-

“Those are tomatoes!” I say excitedly as we walk inside.

“Very good! This is our greenhouse, where we grow lots of things. Eggplant, asparagus, onions, strawberries, almost anything you can think of.” This green house is at least twice the size of my room. There’s so much food!

“So that’s where fruits and vegetables comes from,” Porter says, like he just solved a daring riddle.

“Yes, food is grown, bred, raised, slaughtered. In The State they would use what is called hydroponics, which is where you can grow food without soil.”

“What is soil?” Porter says.

“It’s what we’re walking on! Dirt, mud, life comes from the soil that is what this planet is naturally made of!”

This is too much. Stay focused on the now, keep your head on straight, One. Frank. Goodness. Georgia can see my internal frustration, and that I’m overloaded.

“Well, you two run around and explore the farm, but don’t stir up the rest of the animals too much. Come help me weed the garden when you’re done in the barn.”

“Wait, is the barn the building over there, where all those noises are coming from?” I ask, trying to keep my senses about me.

“Yes, Frank. I enjoy your questions,” Georgia walks to the garden with Bessie, but looks back as if to say “I’m still watching you.” Porter follows her with a barrage of more questions.

I walk to the barn, the animal’s noises grow louder as I approach. I try to differentiate how many different calls I hear. The barn has a sliding door, it’s very heavy, but I manage to open it into- oh! The smell! I have no idea what it is, but it is so pungent. A multitude of animals shout around me, just like Georgia said. They’re all covered in hair, except for these little white creatures with red on their heads and curved...mouths? I need to start learning what everything is called around here, but their ways are just so foreign. My head is starting to spin, I don’t know what’s happening. The smells are overwhelming, I grab the barn door to keep upright, some creature looks at me and makes a “bawk!” sound and I-

“Frank! Come check this out!” Porter calls. I oblige, pulled out of my episode, and shut the barn door.

We spend the rest of the day looking at looms to see how to make new clothes, shoes, and find our hut to live in, the empty one Ami first mentioned. We learn that we will make our own bedding and such from straw, sheets from the loom, cutlery and plates from clay. A sustainable way of life. A set of all this still remains from the building’s previous owner. I wonder what happened to them. Did they leave? Where did they go? Can I follow them? There are still so many questions but, at the end of the day, I relax and snuggle again with Porter, and the stresses melt away. It’s dark outside, just like it would get in my room in The State, and I fall asleep quickly.

A few days have passed.

“What do you want to do today?” Porter rolls over in our bed and asks. It’s very early, the sun is barely up.

“I don’t know. I want to help with breakfast.” Cooking is something I enjoyed from before, and I’ve enjoyed learning and practicing the techniques out here over an open flame.

“That sounds nice. We should go for a walk today, see what’s around the edges of the compound, in the forest.”

“That sounds nice,” I say. Porter gets out of bed and starts putting on their, I mean, his clothes.

We hear something outside, I have no idea what it is. I look out the window and see our neighbor, Natalie, is moving their hand across some bulbous wooden thing. I watch them pluck this thing for a while, suddenly finding myself with my nose pressed against my window. Her eyes are closed until she sees me watching. She calls me over, and I hurriedly put on some clothes and run out to her.

“What is that?” I ask, furiously interested in this thing and the noises it makes.

“It’s a lute, it makes music! Do you want to try?”

“Uh, sure, what do I do?”

“Hold it like this, and use this hand across the strings, and this hand to change the pitch,” she explains.

“What’s a pitch?” I ask.

“Listen to this.” Our neighbor plays one string, then the same string in a different position. “Do you hear how the sounds are different? Each note has a different name, based on it’s pitch. You can combine different pitches to create chords, like this.” The noise she made puts me in a trance, like I’m being escorted to another place. It’s a wild sensation! “Here, you try. Put your fingers here, and here, and here. Now strum!”

It twangs noisily in my hands, once, twice, three times. I like it, but it’s nowhere near what she did.

“Can you teach me how to use this?”

“Of course! We have to make you one first!”

“I’d love that! I have to go make breakfast now. I’ll see you later!”

“Deal!” she says, smiling, and continues to strum some more chords as I walk away.

Porter is ready to go and we leave for breakfast. We see a group of people in black cloaks leaving a home carrying a stretcher, a hand falls out and dangles, clearly dead.

“Where are they taking the body?” I ask.

“I don’t know,” Porter says, “Let’s find out.”

“Porter, no!” I protest, but he is already walking away. We follow them, they’re unaware. I know it’s a bad idea, and only makes me more skeptical of this strange new place.

They go into another strange hut in the woods, one I haven’t been in and assumed was occupied by people, and slam the door. We try to peer in the windows but upon getting to the building, there are large pieces of cloth hanging in the way. We put our ears to the door to listen, but all we hear are footsteps and another door close.

“Well, that sounds like a mystery for another day,” I say. I’m hungry, and we can ask Ami or Georgia about it. Mason rarely walks around the camp, or at least hasn’t over the last few days. But Porter grabs my arm before I can leave and says:

“Something tells me that there's something wrong with this. I don’t have a good feeling about whatever they’re doing in there.”

“We can’t just barge in on them, that’s rude-” he already opened the door.

“Porter! No!” I whisper loudly.

“Come on, we live here now, we have a right to know what’s going on,” Porter whispers loudly.

“We can ask Mason about it if she’s at breakfast,” I whisper back, softer.

“Or we can go in and find out for ourselves now.”

“Ugh, Porter. We can’t just go barging in on their rituals.”

“They’re our rituals, we have a right to know,” he opens the door and walks in.

No one is there, they must be in the other room. We keep listening and hear scratching noises, like the sound of people sawing wood from the forest, but...wetter? It makes my stomach turn over, and I feel the urge to evacuate my stomach contents. It reminds me of the time that I didn’t bring my groceries in right as they were delivered, and then I prepared and ate the fish that was in the box, and then what happened after.

“What are they doing?” Porter presses his ear to the door, but it’s not locked and swings open, giving away our intrusion.

“What are you doing here?!” Mason barks.

“What are you doing?” Porter asks, she’s holding a saw and the lifeless arm.

“We’re just...leaving. Sorry.” I pull Porter out of the uncomfortable situation, the door slams behind us.

“Why are they cutting up the body?” he whispers harshly.

“It doesn’t matter. We weren’t supposed to see that.”

“Why not? We need to learn more about our society,” he is right but-

“I’m sure we’ll learn more when it’s time for us to learn.”

“They didn’t look like the sharing kind, Frank.”

“Well, maybe it’s too sacred to talk about.”

“Sacred? What can be sacred about sawing off a dead person’s arm?” Porter says, exasperated. At this point I see Georgia out of the corner of my eye, she waves at us.

“If we need to know, they will tell us,” I say, trying to end the conversation as we get nearer to other people. Porter has other ideas.

“Hey, Georgia,” Porter asks her, “Why would Mason be sawing someone’s arm off?”

“Porter!” I grab his arm forcefully and go to drag him back to our hut.

“Yes, Porter! What did you do?” Georgia is fuming, totally red in the face, and clutching his other arm.

“I just-” he starts to say.

“Come here. You stay,” Georgia says, pointing at me.

“Hey, Frank! It’s time you learned how to cook these eggs!” Harold yells from afar. Did he see what just happened? I look back at Porter, who gives me a reassuring but unsure look as he’s carted off by Georgia. I help Harold with the eggs and breakfast. Porter still hasn’t returned by the time people work on the dishes.

Once Porter gets back, he is downtrodden, scared, silent. Breakfast is over and I’m helping put everything away.

“What did you and Georgia talk about?” I ask.

“Nothing, just don’t worry about it.”

“But you were so determined to-”

“I said leave it,” he says adamantly.

“Ok, well, I’m here if you need to talk-” Porter stomps back to the barn to start chores. I walk to Natalie’s to start building the lute. She’s so short and sweet, stature and temperament-wise. Most people who build things in this world are bulky from the hard labor, apparently it builds muscles. Natalie, however, is petite, about half a foot - 6 inches, I think, I’m still figuring out measurements and such - shorter than me. It’s strange to see people of different height. Maybe that’s why she was Culled. Everyone else at The State is within a few inches of each other in height. Who knows.

The more I learn the less I know.

“What is this made of? I can see the wood but I don’t know what these are made of.”

“Well, back when this instrument was invented several thousand years ago, the strings were made of sheep intestines.”

“Ew, really?”

“Yea, but now that we have the mine and forge set up, we’re making metal strings. They take much longer to make, but they last so much longer.”

“Really, I had no idea.” I look out the way to check on Porter, tearing through the vegetable garden, weeding like a fiend.

“Are you ok?” Natalie asks.

“Yea, I think. Porter and I saw something today that we weren’t supposed to see.”

“I heard Georgia giving him a lashing. Our process for dealing with the dead is very secretive. But they’re dead and they can’t help us anymore so I try not to think about it.”

“But-”

“But nothing,” she said firmly, but nicely. “Just trust the Elders on matters like that. It won’t matter to you until you’re of age.”

I gather that I cannot change their, I mean her, mind into revealing any secrets, or maybe she doesn’t know any more than that, and drop the subject.

“Come on, let’s go find a log for this lute,” Natalie says, and we take off towards the barn where they keep the logs.

Porter is still tearing through the garden, clearly still upset about what he heard. I wish he would tell me what Georgia said. I want to know what’s going on just as much as he does, but I don’t want to cause any rifts either. Are all societies so secretive? Why do we have to live with secrets? Is that how order is maintained? There were so many secrets with The State but they did tell us some things. It’s like I haven’t left The State.

“Natalie?”

“Yes, Frank?”

“How does The State grow their food if they’re all indoors? How do they deliver meat without a farm? It doesn’t make sense.”

“You should check out the library, there’s a way to grow food called hydroponics, where no soil is used.”

“No I know about hydroponics, but how would they grow their meat?”

Natalie stops and thinks for a second. “I don’t know. It’s probably also lab grown. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know, the question just came to me.” How can they grow meat in a lab? “I think I will check out that library later. Where is it?”

“It’s about a mile away from here, someplace The State decided to leave just on the outskirts.”

“What was the conflict that created The State?”

“No one really knows, something about bringing the world together. But it happened hundreds of years ago.”

“Really? Interesting. How long has this colony been around?”

“We were political prisoners, rebels, or prisoners. There were more of us than soldiers keeping us in, so we turned on them and won. Many of us were lost in the violence, but we managed to take control of their weapons and, ever since, they’ve just left us alone. Apparently they knew we would cause too much trouble and decided to leave us.”

“Wow," I notice that she didn't answer my question, "and you’ve made quite a living for yourself after that.”

“Yes, we have. We’re just living out peaceful lives just outside.”

“That’s awfully wise of such an authoritarian organization to just leave dissenters be.”

“Yea, I guess you’re right,” she says inattentively. “Here’s the perfect log. Now we just have to carve out the body and find a piece for the neck.”

“Good. What about this one?”

“Perfect. Let’s head back to my shop.”

I look over my shoulder and see Porter standing, breathing heavy next to the garden. He looks wiped out, dejected, upset. We make eye contact, and he cries for help silently until Georgia walks up with a cup of water. She sees me and gives the subtlest glare, a clear threat or, maybe, that she thinks I’m the threat. I don’t understand it at all.

By the time I get home from carving out the body and neck for the lute, Porter is in the tub. I didn’t see him at dinner.

“Porter, are you ok?”

He doesn’t answer, maybe he didn’t hear me. I walk into the bathroom and ask again, but see him sitting there, head slouched over. I turn off the water, nearly overflowing, and sit next to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re hiding something. I can feel it. Something big, something dark, I don’t know what but it feels sinister.”

“Maybe we should go for a walk so we can talk about it? We haven’t checked out the forest yet, and it sounds peaceful.”

“No, we can’t talk about it. Georgia made that very clear. We’re still outsiders until we prove ourselves.”

“What does that mean? What do we have to prove? We got Culled just like everyone else.”

“You don’t understand. Georgia...was very threatening. She thought we would bring the downfall of the entire society just by asking questions.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. We’re just here to live and learn.”

“Yea, well apparently we aren’t going to ever fit in, the way she talked,” Porter buried his head in his arms. The tub water was touching his nose.

“That’s not true. It’s only been a few days, these things just take time, that’s all. We knew every response to every situation with The State, and those rules aren’t there any more. We just need to slowly learn them and build trust. Just like The State nailed into our heads, there’s protocol for everything. This one’s just entirely new.”

“I wish we could go back, I wish I’d never snuck into your room that night. Things were so simple.”

“But it wasn’t honest. Did you really like watching people for a living? And isn’t life better knowing each other?” I gently stroke his hair, but he pulls his head away.

“At least I knew what I was supposed to do.”

“Think of all the freedoms we have now. We can live outside, take a walk, feel the sun on our faces. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

“It’s the same as living in The State!” Porter shouted. “We work, we eat, then we die. Don’t you see that?”

“Yes, but now we do so on our terms, learn what we want, see what we want. Don’t you see that?” I say.

“We’re more oppressed here than we were with The State.”

“Nonsense. We can know everything about our lives. Where our food comes from, our clothes, we can have real hobbies, and make meaningful connections with people.”

“That’s nonsense. We can’t even know what they do with dead people. Ugh, just leave me alone. I need some space to calm down.” Porter turned the water back on and kept scowling.

“Ok, I’ll see you in a bit,” and I left to go to bed. My arms were tired from sawing and carving all day.

Just before I fell asleep, I heard someone rummaging around.

“Porter, it’s late, come to bed,” I say.

“I can’t, not until I know everything about this place.”

“Hmph, fine. I’ll go with you. Where are the candles?”

It was dark, but I could see his glimmer in his eye. My stomach lurched and heart raced as he perked up from his funk. Seeing him determined, focused, his best self just makes me-

“What was that?” Porter asked after I hastily kissed him.

“Porter, whatever happens, whatever we find, just know that I am, we are, better off being out of The State.”

“I know,” Porter kissed me back.

We grab some bags that we got yesterday from the weaver, which reminds me that we have to go back and make more. I pack as many candles as we have, the flint, and put on my shoes to begin our trek to the library.

“Well, off we go,” he says, then we immediately take off in two separate directions.

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“Where are you going?” he asks.

“To the library.”

“That’s not where the answers are.”

“Well, where are they?”

“In Mason’s shack.”

“And how do you expect to get in there while she’s sleeping?”

“She’s not. Look.” There are more cloaked figures heading towards The State’s buildings, lit by torches.

“Follow me,” Porter says as he grabs my hand and takes off towards them, sneaking behind each building as we go.

“This is insane. Georgia told you not to worry about this stuff-”

“Well Georgia, Mason, everyone is hiding something, and I mean to find it out. Just stay quiet and follow me,” he says in a final manner, walking towards the cloaked figures.

We follow them through the front gates, which are generally closed at night, but are open just long enough for the cloaked figures to walk through.

“Hurry!” Frank whispers and pulls me through the gates just before they’re closed. It’s dark except for the half moon in the sky.

We almost lose the cloaked individuals ahead while maintaining a good distance, but we recognize the path they take.

“Are they heading to-”

“Yes, shush,” Porter says.

We know where they’re heading, we just can’t figure out why.

“That’s the elevator we came out of-”

“Shhhhhh!” he says harshly.

Why are they heading to the elevator we came out of when we were Culled?

What are they handing inside?

What is going on?

“We have to get out of here,” I tell him. “They look like they’re almost done.”

“Not yet, I wanna see-”

“Hey, you!” They caught us.

“Oh, no.” Porter grabs my hand and we take off running towards the compound.

We hear the footsteps running behind us, they’re getting closer.

“Stop!” they yell.

“You must be punished!”

“I can’t run any faster!” I yell, I’ve never had to run this fast, even when we got caught in the acid rain.

“You have to try! They’ll catch us- !” Porter is shot in the head.

I stop, look upon my freshly killed friend, and stand up to the Security officers running at me. I lunge my arm at one coming straight at me and hit them square in the jaw, they fall to the ground. Another comes at me and I kick them straight in the groin, but it doesn’t do much, so I throw a punch again at them, miss and they grab my wrist and twist my arm. I stomp on their foot, they release me, and I punch them in the head, shattering the helmet. By this time two more are on me and holding either arm, and a third starts punching me in the gut.

“Porter!”

“Quiet you! You’ve interrupted our sacred task to maintain peace, and you will be punished!”

I start laughing, uncontrollably, face bloodied, teeth missing, ribs at least bruised. Porter is bleeding on the ground, not moving. I know I’m crying, but I can’t differentiate between the blood and the saline. Porter is staring off into space. I take another blow to the chest, and the person holding me lets me fall to the ground. My head smarts, I feel warmth on the pavement. Nothing is funny, it all finally makes sense.

“What are you laughing at?” Georgia leans close to my head, there is blood in my eyes.

“So that’s where our meat came from,” I say.

Darkness.