Content warning: violence, physical and sexual assault and abuse
We used to hunt deer because they were a danger to the ecosystem. The environment was suffering, but more importantly to us, too many people were dying from their existence. No one blamed the driver who had one drink too many or the hiker who forgot their bug repellent at home. It was always the deer. And that’s why we shot them. But now we don’t hunt deer anymore. We hunt man.
According to the history books, the change happened when I was two, as the country’s leadership allowed an entire city to go extinct because of poor weapon regulations. The earth heated to the point where it snowed one day a year in the coldest regions, if you were lucky.
They say when we overheat we make bad decisions. But the men sitting on goosefeather couches on the hundredth floor of a gleaming crystal skyscraper couldn’t have been sweating too much when they signed the Humanity bill into law.
The bottom line of the newly minted law read: “He who disrespects humanity shall pay the burden on his own body, and on the bodies of his current and future bloodline.” The day the bill was signed into law was carnage. They ordered law enforcement to eradicate the opponents of the bill first. Then everyone related to those people. Then they went down the list until all that was left were red rivers flowing into sewers around the city and about half of the country’s population that had been breathing that morning.
That night, the president commended our law enforcement’s effectiveness and promised the dawn of a new era. The adults that survived would be immune from the Humanity bill unless they committed an “egregious act of treason”. The children who survived, on the other hand, needed to prove they were worthy of joining society by the age of eighteen. They were scored from their life thereforth on how valuable they would be to society. And if you couldn’t prove you were useful, then God save your soul.
***
“I’m so excited for our last semester!” my friend, Marya, said. She plopped down to the lunch table with her tray in hand, chocolate milk sloshing in its damp paper carton.
“Why?” I asked. I took a bite of vegetable stew, which had too much corn.
“Why not? Class vacation, prom, graduation…” She stabbed her straw into the carton, which collapsed into itself and drowned in the milk. Unfazed, she took a sip out of the carton.
“…Sector applications, society officiation, medical fitness evaluations…” I mumbled, trying another bite of the corn stew, which was still too sour.
Marya scoffed, “You’re no fun. As long as we don’t get an army position, we should be fine.”
Or death, I wanted to mutter, but the red dot projected in the corner of my vision stops me short. Our government-mandated contacts were constantly recording when you wore them, which made it hard to say what you really think.
I was about to concede to Marya when a hulking silhouette, wearing a white hoodie pulled over his head, came and secured a vise-like grip on my arm. I flinched from his nails digging into my skin, while Marya jumped and moved to free me. His massive stature cast a shadow over me, and my heartbeat pulsed in his grip.
“Come with me, you little bitch.”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in this state. His eyes were bloodshot, the back of his hoodie was soaked through with sweat, and he looked like he was vibrating. The dot projected in my vision changed to black and blinked rapidly five times.
“Jo, let go of her! What’s gotten into you?” Marya said, but we both already knew the answer.
Jo continued to tremble, glancing from side to side, before leaning in. When he spoke, he spat a putrid smelling liquid at my face, and I struggled not to cringe as my stomach roiled.
“You’re going to fix this. Right now.” His voice was raspy, and he started to drag me up from the bench. I cried out from the pain that shot up my arm.
Jo dragged me up to stand when the principal charged into the lunchroom with two law enforcement officers. Jo jumped up and started to scurry away when one of the officers tackled him and pinned him to the ground. Jo’s face crashed to the floor, and a thin stream of blood started to trickle out of his mouth. I grabbed my upper arm as I settled back onto the cafeteria bench. Jo writhed under the weight of the officers, then lost the fight in him and started to bawl.
“I didn’t do anything wrong!” Jo shouted. “You can’t do this to me!” The law enforcement officer gagged Jo, and he continued to thrash and cry through muffled noises. He locked eyes with me and I struggled to hold his gaze. The principal cleared her throat and addressed the cafeteria.
“Our school celebrates the students who turn eighteen during the school year. As you know, we are also faced with the duty of carrying out the necessary punishments for those who do not qualify for society officiation by their eighteenth birthday. Let this be a lesson to you all… and God save all of your souls.”
As they dragged a squirming Jo out of the cafeteria, his sweat, blood and saliva smeared on the cafeteria floor. His hollowed eyes followed me even after he disappeared and the rumor mill started to spin.
Jo stole from his parents’ liquor cabinet and snuck out of his house late at night. He’d taken out his monitoring contact lenses and gone to City Hall to drink and curse our government. Contact lens footage from pedestrians and footage from surrounding security cameras was more than enough to identify him. By the next morning, his value score was halfway gone and much lower than the threshold required to be officiated into society.
Unfortunately for him, his 18th birthday was today.
I fidgeted with my fingers, cracking a knuckle in the process.
“What’s going through your head right now?” Marya asked. She looked at me while chewing on her lower lip. Her eyes looked watery.
The dot at the bottom right of my vision slowed to the natural rhythm of my heart.
“It was something that had to be done — for the sake of humanity.”
***
I’m sure I met Jo during elementary school, during the time when memories were indistinguishable from imagination. Every moment was foggy. Somewhere along the way, I think he stole my dolls, pulled my hair, and did all the things that seemed natural for boys. The special thing about him, though, was that his value score was always obnoxiously high. He was the child parents could only dream of: he was a Boy Scout, he volunteered at a social justice organization and led an environmental one and was rumored to have stepped in front of a car to save a pedestrian distracted by their phone. This made others bitterly envious, but I was drawn to him and his ideal.
When Jo asked me to the Homecoming dance last year, I couldn’t believe my luck. I’d worked for years trying to vaguely imitate Jo’s achievements, hoping to hit my society officiation mark well before my senior year. Once we were together, we passed the threshold as easily as breathing.
Slowly, he opened up to me, disclosing his hopes and fears, how he really felt about the world we live in. His father was setting him up to take over the oil business and eventually a high-ranking position in the government. It was his duty as the lone successor in his bloodline, but each day the pressure weighed heavier on him, and I was happy to be his shoulder to lean on.
He was also teaching me the costs. He taught me how to take out my contacts without attracting attention — how you needed to convince the software you were about to go to sleep by slowing your heart rate. He’d stare at me with those eyes, raking over the colors he’d struck onto my body. He’d smile and hand me a bottle of amber liquid from his parents’ liquor cabinet. It’ll calm you down, and then I can take the pain away. And he’d crawl over with that astringent smell on his breath, his arms like pillars caging me inside while my stomach churned a storm. And then he’d apologize and color me rainbow all over again.
Every day drips in the rhythm of those IVs they give people in hospitals. Tiiiiiick. Toooooock. Painful, yet consistent. Stable. And that was enough. If the rhythm of my life was ever visible, I’d take a sick day. Or I’d come up with an excuse. I’ve “walked into a pole” ten times, “tripped” thirteen, and “been clumsy” or “had a chronic skin issue” at least twenty combined. My mother could feel the weight bearing down on me and her eyes got darker and more tired every time I came home looking different from before. But I assured her every time that it was nothing, and she was too busy with work to ask more. For me to do anything else would’ve cost me the status I’d worked so hard for, not to mention how one whisper from Jo to his father would dig my grave. Then Jo would walk up to me with a bouquet of red roses, a get well card, or the like. He’d boost his value score and I’d be shrouded in his love. Win win, in everyone’s book. Except for Marya.
She followed me into the school restroom the week before Jo’s eighteenth birthday and locked the door behind her. The floor was damp and one of the LED lights was buzzing above. This memory smelled like bleach and peony perfume. Marya fluttered in after me. She waited for me to use the toilet and come out of the stall, her arms crossed.
“Lara,” she called out, her voice echoing on the walls and in my head. It had been so long since I’d been called anything but “babe”, “bitch” or “mine”. “Tell me what’s going on.”
Immediately, my hands went to my shoulders, where, beneath a long-sleeved cardigan, hid all the gifts Jo had given me. I suddenly felt she could see through the fabric, so I turned my back toward her.
“I don’t know what you mean,” I said, staring at the visible red dot in the corner of my vision. One slip of the tongue and I’d incriminate me and Jo to a sea of crimes — underage drinking, the illegal removal of my contacts, or treason, just to name a few. My hands moved to my neck, pushing my long hair over the purple marks. Marya followed my hands with her gaze, then sighed.
“Look,” Marya said. “I know we aren’t close, but I know how to help you. Come by my place later and we can talk.”
She gave me her address on a slip of paper, and suddenly I had plans I was looking forward to for the first time in a while.
***
Marya’s home was in a molding apartment complex. The walls were yellowing, there was a rhythmic dripping from anywhere inside the building and a sharp, distinct smell I couldn’t quite place. It was perfect because it was nothing like Jo’s place.
The apartment had two bedrooms and a bathroom, and we went into her room. The door creaked as she opened it, and the desk chair made a similar noise as she sat down.
“We’re going to take a nap,” she said.
After a beat, I opened my mouth to speak, but she continued. “Your boyfriend taught you the fastest way to fall asleep, right?” She tipped her head toward the bed.
I nodded, closing my mouth. I thought that only Jo knew about this technique, but I didn’t question it. I knew who was watching. I laid on Marya’s bed and started the process of slowing my heart rate. I did this almost every night, so my heartbeat responded immediately to even the action of just lying down. When the dot went blue, I quickly pinched the soft lenses and took them out. Marya had her head down on her arms on the table, and after a minute she came back to a sitting position with the two lenses in her hand. She put them in a box that looked like mini binoculars and screwed the lids shut. I put mine in an aluminum lined plastic bag, filled with a solution that Jo gave me to keep the contacts wet. My vision always felt a little empty without the dot, and usually its disappearance was accompanied by a wave of nausea. But this time, my stomach flipped in a way that energized me.
“It’s just me and my mom here,” Marya said, “and she has to work late most nights, so it’s just us right now.”
I nodded, still unable to utter a word. Marya continued.
“You don’t have to say anything, but everyone knows that Jo isn’t as great as he seems. It’s just that no one has the guts to do anything about it.” She’s right. The school rumors about how two-faced Jo is have been spreading like wildfire, but were suddenly snuffed out, along with the student who allegedly started the rumor.
She pinched her brow. “As someone who’s… dealt with a lot of people like Jo, seeing you get blacker and bluer every day kills me.” I winced at the words, and her expression softened. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to make it worse.”
I shook my head, finally gathering enough muscle control to clear my throat. My voice came out scratchy.
“It’s fine…” My voice drifted off. “I just don’t think there’s anything to do about it… At least, not until the society officiation ceremony.”
Marya’s voice dropped. “You know it’s not fine.”
And she was right. Because not only was Jo maxed out on value points and a shoo-in for any job on the market, but his family was too powerful to cross. He’d made it clear on multiple occasions that he’d find a way to get me charged with an “egregious act of treason” if I left him after society officiation. The thought of it made my fingers twitch and my eyes water on their own accord.
“So if you don’t want to spend the rest of your life with that jerk,” Marya said. “We need to make a move before he’s officiated into society.”
I conceded to this amazingly strange conversation. My bones sat heavy in my body, my ears rang with Jo’s curses and I couldn’t remember the last time my vision wasn’t cloudy. I whined with a choked sob. “But how? His birthday’s next week,” I said. “There’s no way…” A tear slipped down my cheek.
Marya stepped out from her chair and wrapped her arms around me. It felt different from Jo’s touch. Warmer, for sure, and safer. It felt like the hugs my mom used to give me before she got busy. “Trust me,” she said, “I’ve done this before.”
***
Marya’s plan was complicated and risky, but the simplest it could be. I had to submit to Jo for one more week. Getting the alcohol was easy. He always tried to get me drunk every night anyway, so I’d pretend to drink and let him have my actual share. The rest I’d take home when he’d wound down and stopped paying attention for the night. I had the right amount by the second day. The final part of the plan was making my skin crawl, and it took me a few days to get my brain to accept it. As a contingency, Marya got a small recorder speaker that attached to clothing and gave it to me.
When I hesitated, she said, “We need to get proof that even his dirty family money can’t cover up.” The confidence in her words immediately changed my mind.
The night before Jo’s eighteenth birthday, I brought the two bottles of alcohol I’d collected in large tinted brown bottles. I’d shoved them into my otherwise empty backpack. When I got to Jo’s house he was already at the front door of the mansion, leaning on the doorframe with one arm above his head. My heartbeat echoed through my entire body. Jo shooed me into his bedroom on the second floor, up the marbled quartz steps, as he always did. I took off my shoes and walked across the scratchy wool carpet to his bed, where we always sat.
He laid down next to me almost immediately, and I imitated him. After two minutes of closing my eyes, my heartbeat had not slowed, and the dot in the corner of my vision remained red. I rolled over to the side of the bed and stuck my hand into the plastic bag with the contact solution, rustling it, then sealing it. The sound was all Jo needed before grabbing my waist from behind.
“Wait, babe,” I said. I made a show of caressing his hand softly. “I brought something for you.” If my heart hadn’t been beating so fast, I would’ve laughed at how ridiculous I sounded. But Jo’s grip tightened around me.
I cleared my throat, finding it hard to breathe beneath his heavy, candy-flavored cologne floating in the air. “You should try it,” I said, and his arms loosened just enough for me to fish out one of the bottles. He muttered something under his breath about being endlessly patient with me, but smiled when he brought the bottle to his lips. “Oh I see…” He took a longer drink. I continued to train my eyes on him, my heartbeat echoing like a drum in my ears. I clicked the recording button on the speaker attached to my shirt.
“Tell me about how powerful you are,” I said, putting a hand on his chest. He flung me away by pushing me off of him and I tumbled to the floor, landing on my back. “Did I ask you a question?” he said. Though I knew he’d answer eventually. He always did, even when I didn’t ask.
I started hacking on the ground, chest tight, and I needed to sit back up to remember how to breathe. “No, sir,” I managed to speak. Tears welled up in my eyes, burning my eyelids. But the thought that this would all be over soon made my tears retreat.
Jo finished the two half-gallon bottles easily while I trained my gaze on him the whole time. The amber liquid flowed easily into his throat, until the last drop escaped the bottle. I asked him how he’d use me once he was officiated tomorrow, and he cursed his father, the government and the country. He talked for so long the recorder stopped recording, and I even had time to set up the switch that would let me change the speaker from recording to playing while he went to use the restroom. Then he showed me, for the last time, which colors he liked seeing most on my body.
Getting Jo to City Hall, a few blocks away, wasn’t difficult in his state. I didn’t plan on him drinking the entire two bottles I’d brought. The hardest part was dragging his weight on the street. He was moaning from dizziness and nausea, so I convinced him to get some fresh air. I put him down at the steps of City Hall, under the gaze of three security cameras and pedestrians milling about downtown. “Babe,” he slurred. “We need to go inside before—” he hiccuped. “—before someone sees us.” He pulled on my arm, and I winced from the pain.
I told him I needed to use the restroom first and left him sitting on the steps. Ironically, City Hall didn’t have any cameras inside, which Marya had told me beforehand. Apparently, this was the one place in the city that the government wanted to keep covert, even though the public could go in and out as they pleased. A symbolic safe haven, of sorts. After a few minutes, I convinced my heart to slow down and removed my lenses. There doesn’t need to be footage of me watching Jo commit treason without intervening at all. I stayed in the restroom and flipped the switch inside my hoodie pocket. Immediately, Jo’s voice started to blare from outside.
“I’d like to see that shitty government do something to me… I’d kill them all…” The voice in the recording slurred the words. I hear Jo screaming and scurrying down the steps. I went to the bathroom window and observed the scene I’d created. After a minute of incriminating audio, Jo finally fumbled around enough to snatch the recorder from his pants belt and gripped it in his hand. A group of men in black suits — the people I recognized as the security from Jo’s father’s oil company — started to run up the steps just as Jo turned around and locked eyes with me through the glass.. The men in suits started to usher Jo into a glossy black limousine as a dozen residents stopped to gawk, having been woken up by the audio blast. He shouted inaudibly at me, but the words I read from his lips ran chills through my blood. You’re dead.
***
A week later, I’m standing at an altar facing the center of the city court, my hand over my heart. I’m in my best dress repeating the words that will free me back to the presiding judge. A cold breeze whips at my legs, where my bruises have faded from blue to yellow.
“I promise to do the best for our country through sickness and through health, to never cheat or deceive or betray. I devote my life to this country wholeheartedly, telling only the truth, so help me God.”
Marya winks at me from the second row of the bowl seating in the room. My mother smiles softly next to her before checking her watch. I briefly see a burly boy in a white sweatshirt in one of the upper rows, which causes a shiver to run through my body, but he disappears the next time I blink.
The judge pounds the gavel once and says, “I now pronounce you a full-fledged citizen of our country. May God save your soul.”