First (19 page)

“I don’t believe it. I… I… just…”

Will reaches for me as bitterness and anguish contort his face. “It’s not usually that… that bad.” He spits out the words. “But sometimes people react to the medications in different ways. It blurs their minds and dulls their reactions, sometimes exaggerating emotions or feelings.” How can he sound so detached? So clinical? Does he do this all the time? Show these horrors to every new Second?

“How can they do this?” I whisper, my own voice full of horror. Will doesn’t have an answer for me.

“And you.” I pull away from him. “How can you do this? Take care of these Seconds, these children, every day, and you’re… you’re okay with it?”

“No!” Pain rips through his face. “Of course I’m not okay, but… but you’ve got to understand. I can’t do anything to stop it. I’m just a servant. I’m nobody. I can’t… I can’t
do
anything.”

I close my eyes for a long minute. He’s right. He’s helpless, too.
How horrible it must be for him, getting to know these kids, only to watch them die.
I let out a deep breath, centering myself. “Does everyone here know what really happens?”

He looks away. “Everyone at the Smith, pretty much. They think it’s… well, you’ve heard the lines: it’s a great destiny, an honor, and an amazing chance to make a difference.”

“If they’re televised, how come I’ve never seen one?”

“Only the free citizens watch. It’s illegal to show footage at the farms.”

It all makes sense now. Sick, horrible sense. This is why I was chosen: to die. “Would that also be why no First comes back to the same farm after choosing a Second from it?” Like pieces dropping into place, the puzzle starts to make sense, and hatred fills me. For Socrates, for everyone in the audience, for Thoreau, for all of them.

“Yes, that would be… awkward.” He tries to take my hands in his, but I pull away.

“So that’s it, then? I’m going to die.”

Will takes a deep breath, and I swear I can see his eyes shining in the low light. “During the Release procedure, your mind will leave your body, yes, and Socrates’s mind will take its place.”

“And this is okay? All my life I’d been raised to think this was this great opportunity, this great contribution to society, but I’m just a warm body.”
The fairytales were right. The boogey man does exist, and there’s no way for the princess to slay him.

“To them, you’re not
physically
dying. Your body is still alive, walking and talking. If you add that to the contributions your First will make to the world…” His lips tighten with words he won’t say. “Perhaps most people just don’t want to see the reality. They don’t come into contact with Texans unless they’re wealthy enough to employ them. They firmly believe that you would be honored to be given such a privilege.”

“Employ them? Will, they buy and sell us! It’s not like we’re being promoted to another job. We don’t have a choice.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry. It was an unfortunate choice of words. We have more power here at the Smith than people do on the farms, probably because we’re more visible to the public. They have to keep us at least somewhat satisfied because, if we rebelled, the common person might question the way things are, and the government doesn’t want that. They like to remind people that the Texans started the fight. Texans killed thousands of soldiers and blew up the White House and the Pentagon. In their eyes, and the eyes of many others who didn’t rebel, offering children as Seconds merely rights their ancestors’ wrongs.”

“But I didn’t start that fight. What about you? You’re like me. Can you be chosen?”

“No. It’s the law. No Texan who works at the Smith or any other public agency can be chosen. We’re seen every day, recognized, and some of us form attachments with our benefactors, our dignitaries. It would, for lack of a better way of phrasing it, be too disturbing for them to see us go through the procedure.” His eyes slide away from me, as if he feels guilty that he can’t face the same fate. He fidgets in his seat. His hands clench at his sides.

“This is insane.” I look at the walls, which seem to form a cell more than the nicest room I’ve ever had in my life. “Then, I guess I don’t have a choice. Do I?”

“No,” he says quietly. “I suppose not. When you’re born and raised on a farm, if you’re chosen, that’s it.”

“Does my mother know?” Would she have sent me to my death if she did? No, we might not have the typical mother/daughter relationship, but even she wouldn’t do that. Even if I killed my little sister.

“No. How could she? What parent would allow their child to be in a program where they could die?” He’s right. I smile in relief. That makes sense. Not even my mother would do that to me.

“Do you show other Seconds these videos?”

“No. Most of them never find out. Usually I’m a companion and servant, nothing more.”

I bite my lip, seeing my cousin’s tortured thrashing in my mind. “And here I thought… well, I don’t know. I thought I would be trained, travel the world as his servant, his helper, I don’t know, maybe take his place when he dies, not that he was going to… to… kill me and take over my body.” I shake my head. “This is murder. There have to be some people who oppose this.”

“Of course there are. Several groups in fact, but the Lifers are the largest.” I meet his gaze, and his eyes hold me.

“Like Mr. Flannigan?”

Will nods. “They believe it’s better to die than be a Second. That people should live out their lives as they see fit, where everyone’s free.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You sound like you know a lot about them.”

His eyes widen. “No. Definitely not. I just know what I’ve heard. People talk around here, and most ignore us servants.”

“I just… I can’t… I don’t get it.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand.”

“Believe it,” he says grimly. “Politicians and the government look at this program as a great way to stay in favor with the common people and to keep Texans in line. Most people love the idea of the Texans earning some sort of freedom. And they get to keep around the greatest and most influential people of the world. So what if every year, a few hundred teenagers are chosen as Seconds? What contribution would a normal person make to the world that even comes close to that of John F. Kennedy, Abraham Lincoln, or George Eliot? People die all the time, but the government and the free citizens don’t consider this a death. Look at Socrates’s companion, George Eliot. Not only was she the first female president, but in her second lifetime, she helped scientists find a cure for autism. In the first three of his lifetimes, Thoreau worked as an ambassador and eventually brokered peace between Pakistan and India. Many people see this as a higher calling.”

“So what did Socrates do?”

He is silent for a long moment and looks at me, surprised that I don’t know anything about the man who wants to take over my body.

“Well? What makes him so important?”

“He survived,” Will says, his voice flat.

“Yeah? So did George Eliot, Thoreau, and the others.”

“No, he was the
first
to survive.”

“So all the others before him died?”

Will nods.

“Why did he make it while the others before him didn’t?”

“He used a younger Second.”

I gulp. “Like me?”

“Yes. His son, Adam.”

Nausea overpowers me, and I stand up on wobbly legs. I half run, half stumble to the bathroom and throw up in the toilet. Warm hands rub circles on my back. At first, I’m embarrassed to have Will see me this way, but it’s so comforting, I give in to the feeling. I rest, waiting for the dizziness and nausea to pass. They don’t, but I can’t spend the rest of my life leaning over the toilet.

When I feel strong enough, I lift my head, pull myself to my feet, and stagger over to the sink to splash water on my face. I don’t recognize the person staring back at me in the mirror. I look older, tired. I close my eyes, and see Adrian’s face. Blood runs down his face, his eyes roll back in his head, and his mouth opens in a silent scream.

“His son? What happened?”

“Back then, you understand, things were a lot different than they are now. Adam was riding something called a motorcycle and crashed. He hit his head, and suffered damage to his brain. His body was fine, but his mind, gone. He was only twenty.”

I gulp back the bitterness in the back of my throat again. “What kind of monster would do that, though?”

Will stiffly walks over to me and leads me to the bed. At first I don’t want to sit down, but I let him take me. For some reason, I don’t think I can do anything else. “He was dying already. The Highlander project was big news at that time, though they hadn’t had any lasting success. Socrates volunteered. His first wife, Vanessa, convinced him to try using Adam’s body. I remember reading that, even though she knew her son was already gone, she hoped that maybe her husband could live on and help the future.”

“That’s just sick.” I shake my head, shivering.

“I don’t know if Socrates even thought he’d survive the procedure. He probably hoped he wouldn’t, after losing his son like that.” Will closes his eyes, as if imagining himself in Socrates’s position.

I examine him closely. “How do you know so much?”

He smiles briefly. “It’s nothing really. It’s part of my job. When I find out a First is coming, I learn as much as I can about them.”

“You’re not always assigned to Seconds like me?”

“No. Just as often I serve Firsts.” He squeezes my hand. “In fact, I wasn’t even supposed to be assigned to you. A younger boy named Tomas was, but he’s still in training, so they had me do it instead.”

Taking a deep breath, I pull my hand from Will’s.
I can’t do this. Not right now. Not ever. I can’t take comfort in him, not after this.
“I think I’m going to go to bed now.”

He nods, and I try to smile to convince him that I’m going to be okay, even though all I want to do is fall apart. Or maybe I’m already broken in a million little shards of glass, and nothing can ever bring me back together again.

“Are you going to be all right?” he asks as I walk with him to the door.

No. How could I be? “Yeah, I’m fine. I just need some sleep.”

“I’m sorry.”

I shake my head. “It’s not your fault.”

He turns back and wraps me in a hug that is both tender and fierce. I freeze. A strange, hard heat gathers inside me, and I start to feel myself relax.
I can’t do this right now.
I push myself away from him. He looks hurt, but I can’t feel sorry for him. I just found out I’m going to die, and he knew it, they all knew it, but no one had the decency to tell me.

“Good night, Will.”

“Good night.” His com unit beeps, and he looks down at it. His face pales even further. “I’ve been instructed to remind you that the Acceptance Banquet is tomorrow.”

“The Acceptance Banquet?” What is he talking about? The Acceptance Banquet? Realization dawns. Oh yeah… “That’s what Mr. Flannigan—” A sharp pain pierces my heart. “—was supposed to prepare me for.”

Will settles me loosely in his arms. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just some dinner to introduce you to the rest of the Firsts and other dignitaries. It’s not a big deal.”

“So they can recognize me after the Release, is that it?” His lips set in a firm line. “I can’t just lock myself in my room, right?” I look up into his eyes, drawn into their deep, chocolaty depths.

He shakes his head, a rueful smile on his face. “No, I’m afraid not. But look, seriously, it’s not a big deal. All you have to do is sit there, eat, and watch Socrates talk.”

I lean in closer to him, drawn by his warmth, his solid chest, his firm arms cradling me. All the horrors of the night seem to slip away like water between my fingers. “After tonight, it couldn’t get much worse.”

“No,” his voice is a low rumble. “In fact, you’re expected to do absolutely nothing.”

I rear back. “That’s because the next time they see me, I’ll be dead.”

“Mira!” He looks stricken. “That’s not what I meant.”

I pull away from him and rub my arms in the sudden chill. “It’s the truth.” I turn away from him, letting my words fill the space between us.

He takes me in his arms once more. “I didn’t mean it like that. I—”

“Save it, Will, alright?” His eyes widen, but I continue, so he gets my meaning. “Look, I don’t blame you. It’s not your fault. It just… stinks, that’s all. That’s a huge understatement. They have the right to take me from my home, parade me around, and then kill me. That’s insane. Maybe Tanner had the right of it, after all.” Tears burn my eyes at the unfairness, the wrongness of it. “I’m going to die, Will, and they’re having a party.”

He closes his eyes and pulls me closer so my head rests against his chest. His heart thumps next to my ear. It feels good here, in his arms, like he understands. He holds me until I grow so comfortable I can’t remember where he ends and I begin. Eventually, though, he slowly pulls away, as if he regrets putting space between us.

“I really need to go, Mira. But if you need me…”

“I’ll just push the button and ask.” I smile waveringly.

His lips quirk at the corners. As he is about to close the door behind him, I put my hand on his arm. The muscles flex beneath my grip.

“Will?”

“Yes?”

“Thanks.” Will looks confused, as if he can’t figure out why I’m thanking him. “For being here with me. I know it probably wasn’t what you wanted, but I really appreciate it.”

Will nods, a ghost of a smile skating across his face. “I only hope that it was worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“That finding out the truth was worth the cost,” he murmurs, squeezing my hands in his.

My teeth worry my bottom lip. Stupid habit. “It was.” At least now I know. And even if I feel like a piece of me has been stripped away, it’s for the better, right?
Even after I found out my cousin’s dead, and Socrates took his own son’s body, and my whole life has been a lie, and I was chosen to die so Socrates could live another lifetime.

“And to be honest, there’s no place I’d rather have been.” He turns away, and the darkness of the unlit hall swallows him.

I step back into my room and shut the door, turn off all the lights, lie down on my bed, and curl up in a little ball. A sharp pain pierces my brain behind my eyes, and I rub my temples. I stop. Is that what Adrian felt as they stabbed the needles into his head?