In June 2014, I began writing this short novel with the intent of creating my own dystopian society. Although it’s not finished, I chose to post it anyway. The first draft was written in English. I’ll also post the Italian version of it, though.

ONE

In my time, the word family doesn’t mean much. At least not what it used to mean, a long time ago, in a traditional sense: a mother, a father and children, mostly biologically related.

I’m the result of a biological alchemy, sure, but I do not know my biological mother, and I do not know my biological father. 

No, I haven’t been abandoned. I was torn out of the loins of my mother, and I was brought into the world after my biological mother had been inseminated with the sperm of a man whom, like me, she has never known. Then I’ve been handed over to the lovely care of the Centre of Birth.

In my society, children don’t get to know who their biological parents are, whether they have siblings, or who they are.

The so-called blood ties are just a distant memory. That’s a good thing if the intent is avoiding nepotism!

Today it’s my thirteenth birthday, a few months away from my apprenticeship and from the Choosing Ceremony that will decide my future.

I’m sitting at the table onto which a magnificent breakfast has being laid before me: pancakes soaked with Acacia-blossom honey, dried fruits and rose-flavoured tea, my favourite. 

Roses are my passion. They have an intoxicating, sweet scent that reminds me of my mom. Yes, my biological mother. My true mother. It cannot be otherwise. I have learned in school, smell is the most archaic sense of all, linked to memories like no others. The fact I like it so much – I’m sure – it can only mean I have smelled it on her, in those frantic moments while she was giving birth, the only time ever we were close. I believe I have loved it ever since.
– Julian, hurry up! Or you’ll be late!

There she is! My mother, my foster mother: Dolores Wonder. One of the foster mothers of the Department of Birth.

– Do not worry, Dolores, – I say calmly. – Today is my birthday. I can be late!

That’s right. This day, of all days, is the most sacred day of the year for every youngster.

I could be late or even skip school if I wanted to, and no one will say or do a thing. I’ve never done it before, but my classmates have gambled I won’t show up this year, for this is my last year in school. I should give them the chance to be right and play truant, just for once! Maybe I’ll take a tour to the garden of roses.

Just the thought of it brings me back to all those nights I have spent trying to outline the contour of my mother’s features in the dark: the curve of her eyebrows, the shape of her lips, the line of her nose, her lovely face, and imagining the colour of her hair or of her eyes with such meticulousness!

– Tell me you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking! – says Dolores, glaring at me, arm on her hips, while I stare into the void.

– What am I thinking? – I reply, pretending I’m shaken.

– To skip school! Am I right?

– I should say it’s a thought that has crossed my mind! – I feign interest and start wondering.

– And?

– And it would be really nice, I admit. – Finally, I say, a smile spreading widely over my lips.

– But?

– But I think I’m not. Thank you for asking. – I comment, serious this time.

– I do not need to remind you that becoming a Diplomat is a serious matter, do I? And missing class won’t do any good to your future career. Diplomats must have an impeccable past!

– I know, Dolores, I know. – I say, soothing my voice. 

She seems to be relieved, reassured by my words. But then a flash of wariness flicks in her eyes. Soon Berenice will be here.

Dolores looks intently at me, and I know exactly what she means. 

I dig into my breakfast and devour everything in front of me. This type of food is not something we normally have access to, neither that easily nor in quantity!

Resources are very carefully managed after The Great Conflict.

But today is my birthday and I can eat whatever I wish, how much I wish, and in my rooms, instead of the crowded hall where I usually consume my meals, together with the other youngster that live here at the DoB.

– Hi, everyone! What a lovely smell! Are these your renowned pancakes, Dolores? Berenice Dawn is here. She is a cute girl, skinny and short, with black hair and bright eyes that seem to dart from side to side in fear of missing something important. The way she walks, trotting around with guarded eyes, make her resemble an elf. 

She will be Dolores apprentice for the next year and will be learning from her experience gained in years of work at the Department of Birth. For this reason, Berenice is going to spend many hours with us every day.

– Will you teach me how to make them? It will be of use, right?

– Sure thing, like everything else I’ll teach you. – She says, with all the warmth she can muster, though it touches only her lips, not her eyes.

This is the second week she’s been with us. She seems to be smart and easy going and I sort of like her, but I have a feeling Dolores doesn’t. And I can’t figure out the reason why. Whenever she is around, she is tense and suspicious and answers her every question with shrewdness.

– How long have you been working here, Dolores?

– I started when I just turned 26. It seemed to me I was ready to be a mom. – Her tone gets an edge of sour irony.

– How many did you have?

– Seven. – She spits out the number like a spurt of venom.

As they chat, I notice her distant look. Is she thinking of her children? Is that the reason why she came and work here?

The one thing I know for sure is that, like everyone else working at the DoB, she will not make up for a new life with a man. As a matter of fact, women who decide to not have future contact with men need to swear to never seek their company, and therefore they will not undergo the procedure of sterilization. They are strictly guarded and are not allowed ever to leave the Centre unattended. And, as the ancient Roman priestesses of the temple of Vesta, they’ll live their life of celibacy under pain of exile.

– You’ve been here seven times and yet decided to come and live here? I haven’t been here to give birth, yet, though I’m sure I will have a life with a man to live happily with and I’ll bury all about this time of my life under a fat layer of happiness. – she states with boldness.
In facts, some women who decided to continue to work at the DoB, can live their life outside the Centre and have a man, but they must undergo sterilization.

– I don’t think I’ll ever have anything to offer to a man. The sole love I have is for the younger generations. The future doesn’t hold anything else for me. – Dolores replies with a feeble voice, as if it came from a distant world.

The resignation in her voice is crystal clear. It doesn’t suit her, though. She won’t fool me. I know her as a strong, determined woman, and seeing her so tamed, when she answers Berenice’s questions, tells me she is way too suspicious. Of what?

– Sorry to interrupt you, ladies! Should your intention be to taste my delicacies, I’m happy to inform you it’s all gone! The good news is, you may take the chance to make more! I’d be delighted to find more back from school.

I get up from my seat, pass in front of Dolores, who stands next to the door to the kitchen, and skim my hand across hers to silently thank her. 

Her look sinks into my eyes as an immeasurable gentleness seeps through, but she doesn’t dare to follow suit and stands still. I read relief in her eyes for my breaking up the questioning, though.

I feel the urge to hug her, as we do at night, when she sits on my bed, tucks me up and wishes me good night before I fall asleep. Unfortunately, I’m not allowed to have physical contact so obvious, especially not in public, and I suppose Berenice is a public to whom Dolores is pretty much prone to avoid showing whatever intimacy we might have. 

I leave the DoB trotting happily down the stairs towards the building of Department of Culture where young boys and girls go to school. Mindful of Dolores’s words, I walk at a brisk pace along the avenue that leads to the imposing building and that brings farther on till the Centre of Dismissed.

There live the elderly people who have retired from work and therefore have been relieved of any kind of duty. They spend their days as they wish, without any obligation to the society that now totally takes care of them, as a reward for having done the assigned task during life with dedication and without having fallen into disgrace. Most of them resume reading, something that had been given up because it wasn’t allowed once they had left school and during the whole adult age.

Indeed, students are allowed to read books, but not whatever subject they wish. Books are wisely and meticulously chosen by Diplomats.

To everyone else are prohibited readings of any kind, if not strictly related to their own professions, and every choice is registered in the personal file for further inspection.

In the Central Library has been stored the most complete collection of all sorts of books in digital format, saved from the rage of The Great Conflict, that deals with topics of all sorts. The only ones, who have unlimited access, are the three castes of men: Diplomat, Guardians, and Clerical.

– It’s not fair! I bet two whole months of table serving at the canteen! And because of your inability to stay away from school, even on the day of your last birthday as a student, it falls to me to work!

– Good morning to you, too!

– Did you hear what I just said?

– I heard, and I think you shouldn’t have bet if you weren’t prepared to accept the chance of losing!

I look at Benjamin, my best friend, pouting. If it weren’t that blood ties have been abolished since long, for obvious reasons, even before we were born, I would say that he is the closest thing to a brother I might ever experience in my entire life.

In vain, I suppress a chuckle that instead escapes my lips. He’s still out of breath for having run helter-skelter down the stairs, trying to catch up with me, and not only to give me his lecture, or because he’s late for school and it’s not his birthday. 

– Have you decided?

There he goes! I look at him as if I don’t understand the question and turn to continue to walk.

– Do not ignore me!

– I don’t know what you’re talking about! – I then stop and speak.

– You know exactly what I’m referring to.

I’m impressed by his anger and, as I resume walking and pretend I don’t hear him, he bursts out laud.

– You’ve decided, haven’t you? You just don’t have the guts to tell me, right? – his anger bursts out.

– Stop wasting time or you’ll be late. Later than already is!

– Come on, won’t you tell me? Did you make up your mind? – his voice pleading now.

During the last class of Social Education, we examined the role of the three castes, specific duties and differences, typical days, rules, and behaviours of each rank.

That same day, on the way back to DoB, Benjamin and I talked about it, as we do when we find a topic of extreme interest, and he confessed to me, he has no ambition to become a Diplomat, nor a Guardian or a Clerical, but he certainly knows he wouldn’t want to be deprived of the privileges the castes are entitled to. Therefore, he is well aware of the problems he has following the rules, thanks to his rebellious nature, and he’s afraid I will choose one of them and part with him for good.

– No. I haven’t decided yet. We still have time. And do not forget that anyway, we must pass the test!

– I have not forgotten! But you do not forget of me!

I stare at him seriously and silently shake my head. Then I grab his hand and make for the school building, running, and dragging my friend behind me as I go. 

The door is still open. We file through it, still running hand in hand, one after the other, and eventually we are in front of the class closed door panting heavily and with our hearts in our throats. 

I finally leave his hand and, with a rapid gesture, straighten my tousled hair. I deeply breathe in to calm down, and then I catch my breath and knock on the door.

The class is quiet listening to Mr Drummer who barely acknowledged me as I enter the room and sit at my desk.  

Benjamin follows my steps and is just about to sit when Mr Drummer shouts.

– Not so fast, Mr Benjamin! You are late, and it’s not your birthday today. Am I wrong?

– Absolutely not, Mr Drummer, – I say and continue – I invited him to join me for breakfast. Dolores’s pancakes are legendary.

– Dolores’s pancakes? – Says our teacher, forcing down a gulp. – I remember them!

– Yes, Sir. Exactly. I push further, hoping to change the subject.

– Served with Orange Blossom honey, my favourite. – He takes another gulp as if he were savouring the taste right here and now, as his mouth were watering.

– I should report you, Mr Benjamin, are you aware of it?

My friend is about to say something, and I anticipate him. Knowing him the way I do, I’m sure it won’t be anything pleasant, so I force myself and push my luck, keeping up speaking.

– Sure, I am to be reported as well, Sir, since it was me who convinced him to stay for breakfast. My words escape my mouth without me being totally aware of them, and I promptly think I’d be in trouble if Dolores ever found out what I just did!

– I don’t know. The manual is clear: you are not to blame for today is your birthday, Mr Julian, but I’m not sure the same is intended for you! – he says, pointing his index finger and addressing the end of his comment to Benjamin with unconcealed anger.

Everybody is alarmed and sits, darting quick looks at one another, trying to predict what will happen next.

– I guess your birthday might be a good excuse for Mr Benjamin’s delay, though – Mr Drummer ventures, looking at me cautiously.

I eye Benjamin, alerted by the implication the teacher is trying to make. Is he trying to save Benjamin or to punish me for being bold, attempting to excuse him?

I acted in the wake of instinct, and Dolores will never forgive me if… I don’t even want to think about it! 

The silence sets down like a heavy mist that no one dares to break. Everyone is looking down at their desk, avoiding the teacher’s eyes.

Only Rebecca, sitting in the row next to mine, is sending me darting looks as she usually does when we are in class. Her light smile makes her eyeline bent up like she’s smiling with all her face, often hidden behind her blond, long bangs. I smile back for a fraction of a second that I’m not sure whether she even notices.

I remember all of it taking off a few weeks ago, when, during a break, in a group conversation regarding the role of men in our society, I took her side. Since then, she started looking at me with new eyes. Her open face was suggesting some kind of interest, which at the beginning I could not define. I sought a way to spill the beans with Ben on the way to the DoB, but he wasn’t much interested in the topic. I dropped the matter and stepped onto another of our usual subjects.

But right now, my worries are set on another matter, and I go back to my main problem. I’m not sure what to make of it. Two options are equally possible: either Mr Drummer is afraid of losing respect and authority for not reporting Benjamin, or he thinks instead he’ll get a reprimand for reporting me on my birthday. 

Suddenly, Mr Drummer seems to have solved whatever debate was going on inside his head.

– This will be the one and only time I accept such an infringement! – Finally, he solemnly declares. – And I won’t allow any of you – he clarifies, pointing again his index finger, but this time to each student of the class – to make me confront with such a situation ever again!

And with that Mr Drummer goes back to the lesson, and we all consider the matter a closed case.

When the class is finally dismissed, Rebecca comes closer and asks me if I have plans for the day. We agree on meeting later in the afternoon at the Botanic Garden.
– Hi, you came!

– Isn’t what we agreed upon?

– Sure, but I thought Dolores would make you change your mind.

– Why so?

– You know, we’re close to the limit. Soon we’ll be declared Independent, and meeting would not be allowed.

– The Independent Being Ceremony is three months away. I think this is clearly long enough before we are going to get separated. Are you excited? Only three months and we’ll be fully grown and leave the DoB.

– Yeah, right. – Rebecca answers, and I sense she doesn’t really look forward to it.

– Is there something wrong? – I ask, concerned.

– No, not more than usual.
– What do you mean?

– I mean… Why do we need to have children?

– I guess this is normal, women have children and take care of them.

– And what do men do?

– Men must learn to become the ruling part of the society, they need to make sure everything is done according to rules, as it has always been.

– I don’t think it’s fair. And we don’t know whether it has always been this way!

– What do you mean?

– They teach us to think so, but nothing says it was like this, before. And maybe it will be different in the future. Depends on us!

– I don’t think you should say that. – I remind her that being so critical is not going to make her life easy.

– It’s easy for you! You don’t have to spend ten years of your life bearing children you’ll never ever see again!

She pauses and then asks with sparkling, expectant eyes.

– What are you going to choose?

– I haven’t given much thought, yet. But Dolores thinks I should go for Diplomats. And you?

– I don’t know. My mother believe I should become a doctor at the DoHC. But I don’t know if I can study and have children at the same time. It will be hard.
– I can imagine having to have children does not make life easy anyway, even if you chose something else.

During this period women are not allowed to have any contact or intimate relations with any boy or man, therefore private meetings, intimate attitudes, and sex are strictly prohibited and punishable by confinement – only for women, in a remote area, away from the rest of us.

Young women can give birth up to a maximum of 8 children who are, with no questioning, all surrendered to the Centre of Birth that will take care of them from birth until school age, which is placed after the completion of the 13th year of life. If a woman, whatever the reason, is unable or refuses to give birth is socially discredited and isolated from society and its services and will even lose the chance of a future life with a man. At the completion of the 26th year, the woman is declared emancipated and can have intimate relations with men, even of high rank, but must undergo sterilization. Only women who decide to stay and work at the Department of Birth to take care of children, avoid the practice, but are kept under strict surveillance and rarely leave the building.

– That’s probably true. – Rebecca admits, thoughtfully.

– What else would you like to do?

– I have to say – for the matter – that it wouldn’t bother me that much becoming a doctor.

– I must agree, it’s a very decent profession.

Then changing topics, Rebecca asks out of the blue.

– Will you promise to wait for me?

– You mean, wait to…?

– Yes, to marry. Just only eight years and we can live together. In the meanwhile, you can become a diplomat, and I’ll be a doctor.
– I’m not sure if we can plan everything in advance. Right now, it seems a good plan, but maybe it won’t be the same some years from now.

– I will not change my mind. – She states stubbornly.

***

In the evening, as always, Dolores comes to my room to wish me good night and just as she closes the door behind her, she starts.

– How many times do I have to tell you not to make yourself conspicuous? –  Dolores is furious for my bravado.

– I understand your concern, Dolores. But, really, nothing happened!

– You cannot let anything stand between yourself and the bright future ahead of you! You’ll ruin everything! Do you understand? – She’s hissing, as we weren’t alone in my room. I’m sure, had we been in some other place, isolated from the rest of the world, she would be screaming her lungs out.

– I sure do! – I state out of boredom. I don’t understand her worries. I wasn’t reported, and for the matter, no one else was! So, why is she so upset? The more I think about it and the more I believe that there is more to the picture than meets the eye.

– I can tell you’re not taking it seriously at all! Promise me you won’t put yourself in such a situation ever again. Promise!

– I promise, – I say solemnly – Never again! 

Dolores looks at me suspiciously. I must have given in too easily. I’m not sure whether I’m going to keep my promise, but I’ll certainly make sure she never finds out ever again. She cannot control my life as she does.  And today she is the second person to ask me to promise. I don’t like to make promises I cannot keep.

Soon enough I’ll be free from her supervision, and I’ll move to another Compound where every youngster, who has completed the basic education, goes.

My life is about to change dramatically in less than three months. The Choosing Ceremony will put an end to the social promiscuity. I will leave the place that has been my home since I was born, my friends, or at least half of them, the girls – and start to make projects for my adult life. 
Most of the talented boys start their career in one of the three top ranks of the society while, instead, the less gifted are asked to choose a simple Work Training or a Higher Education Training for specialized work.

For girls the choice is approximately the same except for the fact that they’re asked to bear children for as many as ten years. Once they are freed of their duty as child bearer, they will be allowed to rejoin men and have relations, only after undergoing sterilization.

As it happens for every youngster who leaves the DoB and becomes an Independent Being, I would also be asked to choose my last name. I frankly thought I should pay my dues to Dolores and take her surname out of gratitude, but after all those nights spent dreaming of my mother, I’m convinced I’ll take Rosebuds. Julian Rosebuds. It sounds like me. 

I feel strong enough and looking forward to being on my own, somehow free of any kind of surveillance, but the thought of leaving Dolores for good is somehow unsettling and tells me it’s something I’m not quite ready for. The only thought is dreadful, to a certain extent. With her around I’ve always felt safe, protected, even when she overdid it out of anxiousness.

– Did you take your pill? – She whispers coming close. – Do not ever forget! It’s important to take it every day! Or you might slow down the process!

– No, not yet. I was just about to. 

I go to the cabinet where I keep my clean clothes. In a hiding-place, behind a panel on the right, a little brown bottle with twenty-five round red pills is concealed. I gulp one down right away and wonder what really the pill is for. Dolores tells me it’s an experimental treatment, and I am not to tell any living soul about it.

I have tried to cautiously question my friends, but so far, I haven’t been able to succeed in discovering any kind of information. Either they are also bound to secrecy, or they are not privy to such treatment. 

– Can you once for all tell me what are these pills for? – I probe her.

– We should talk about it, I know. – She speaks slowly and then exhales a resigned sigh, as she has been waiting for this question for too long.

– We should? – I sound genuinely surprised.

– Yes, but not now.

– When then? – I keep asking.

– I would need to talk to someone before I tell you anything.

– To whom? – My curiosity burns inside me instantly.

– Not yet my little one. Sleep now. Soon you’ll know everything there is to know. You’ll soon be Independent. It’s about time.

She kisses my forehead, tucks me up, and leaves the room. I remain alone in my bed, wondering in the dark. I’ll soon be an Independent Being, true, but is soon the time what for?

What is she being so mysterious about? What are those pills for? Now, more than ever, I feel the urge to know more about them. To finally comprehend what is wrong with my body! For sure must be something really, really wrong.

After some time, I cannot estimate how long, but I’m sure it must be quite late because all the lights are off, and no sounds come from the corridor, I’m still staring at the ceiling with wide eyes. 

I can’t sleep. No big news! I’m getting used to this sleeplessness of mine. It’s been part of my nightlife for fairly too long. And my only companion in these nights is the thought of her. The one single thought that have always been present in my head: my mother. Who is she? Where is she? What is she doing? Where does she live? Does she think of me sometimes? How many children did she bear? Do I know any of them? 

The more I think of her, the more the sleep eludes me.

And as this wasn’t tiring enough, tonight I have an additional matter to worry about. 

My mind runs in every direction to find answers I can’t figure out, to question I’m not allowed to ask. What? Who? Why? 

Suddenly I hear her voice. I get up from my bed and follow it through the open door and find myself into another room that doesn’t resemble the less my front room. 

It’s a long, narrow one with a wall of glass panels to separate it from another of approximately the same size, and big windows at the left. In both rooms a long table covered in white tiles stands in the centre and, just in front of me, a woman in a white lab coat is standing by it filling little brown bottles with red pills.

I’m at her back and the only thing I see is her blonde hair secured in a ponytail. I try to extend my arm to touch her shoulder. My arm is stretching at an impossible length. The distance between me and the woman increases as I try to reach for her. I’m not going to let her go, not now that I finally have the chance to see her face! Damn, I’m so close! 

I keep stretching my limb, and it’s like it doesn’t belong to me anymore. It’s a long bridge over a flowing river that runs loudly at my feet, at the bottom of a chasm. I’m standing on its edge, balancing. 

The woman seems not to notice any of it and keeps doing her job at the same pace: she takes a little brown bottle, fills it with pills, sets it on the other side of the table and screws a white cap on top of it. 

I want to scream, so she will finally hear me and turn around. And I’ll see her face, eventually. My mouth opens, but my voice fails me. Not a sound I manage to utter! 

At this point, desperation creeps in on me. I’m sure that if she would turn around and look at me, I will recognize her. It’s her. It’s my mother! I know! I feel it in my guts!

I lean forward a little more. My hand is skimming her hair. I’ll soon touch her, and she’ll look at me and will see me. She’ll remember me. She’ll hold me. A little more. I’m almost there! 

My feet slip off the edge of the chasm and I find myself falling. I’m not scared. I’m only disappointed I won’t see her face. So, I give up trying to reach her at last and let myself relax while I wait to hit the bottom of the chasm. I’ll go in pieces. No, it’s not exactly right. I am already in pieces. So, it won’t matter. 

I keep falling and falling and I close my eyes. It’s taking forever, but I refuse to open them up. I don’t want to see. If I am to die, I’ll die, but I won’t look at my head smashing on the rocks below and my brain spreading its matter all over the water surface.

Finally, I touch the bottom. The dull thud of my body reaches my ears. I don’t feel pain, though. Not at the head, not at my chest, not at my limbs. Nowhere!

– Are you OK? – A light touch at my forehead makes me open my eyes.

Dolores is towering over me, and I find myself lying on the floor right next to my bed, bed covers tangling my legs. She looks worried. I must have fallen off the bed.

– Dolores? – I babble confused.

– At least you know who I am! – Her lips open in a wide smile.

– Yeah, at least I know who you are. – I say relieved for not being dead and frustrated because I didn’t see the face of the woman, I strongly believed to be my mother.

TWO

I’ve learned Marcy Pusher has been the doctor in charge of the lab at the Department of Health Care for the last twenty years, and here is where all drugs are produced and packed. Nowadays, most treatments are simply remedy to light diseases. 

Surgery and microsurgery are procedures largely performed to cure any kind of biological or physical problem, either simple or complex, and have reached a high level of accuracy and efficiency to have replaced any other kind of treatment. 

It’s late, and I have followed Dolores till here, at the DoHC through the underground tunnel that connects our department to this one. 

I’m resolute. I want to know more! 

After all, it’s my health at stake here! And I won’t wait any longer to understand:

– WHAT’s going on?

– WHO’s deciding for me?

– And most of all, WHY?

She enters the lab that resembles the one I dreamt of. I step into a niche from where I can observe the scene without risking of being spotted. 

– Dolores, – Doctor Pusher whispers surprised, – what are you doing here this late?

I assume the voice has been lowered, not because of the late hours, though.

– We need to talk.

– I’m not alone. This is not exactly the right moment.

– It’s important.

– I’m sure it is, nonetheless, we cannot right now.

– I’m not leaving without an answer.

Doctor Pushers voice seems to be resigned when she speaks again.

– What is it that cannot wait?

– Julian. He wants to know.

– I haven’t figured out yet what we must tell and how much. So, I wouldn’t encourage him.

– I didn’t. Actually, I’m surprised he didn’t ask earlier.

– We must be careful who we share our information with.

– I know, but I believe Julian is ready for it. He’s to be trusted. I feel it.

– You’ve been too attached to this child, and I’m afraid I can’t rely on your judgment as impartial as it used to be. And moreover, there are still three more months to go. We can wait a little longer.

– That’s a rotten insinuation! I was sure I had proved to be reliable on this matter in all these past years of service, and my judgment is as sound as ever. – Dolores bursts

out.

– I know, and I’m grateful for your loyalty. I’m just saying one word leads to another and then to another. We know how this works, right?

– I thought I earned your trust long ago! – says Dolores, piqued, in a high pitch of voice. 

– Dolores, you are trustworthy, indeed. I’m just afraid Julian might not be.

– Right, it isn’t me. – Dolores retorts.

– Don’t get me wrong, Dolores. I trust you. I’ve always trusted you and always will! But, please, understand! There has been an unusual interest in our department lately, and I’m afraid they’ll nail us if we’re not more than careful!

– But if we don’t trust him now with the secret, how can we expect him to trust us in the future?

– Not now, Dolores. Soon, but not just yet.

– So? Not a word yet?

– Yeah, we wait.

Dolores exits the lab and returns to her room in the personnel dormitory in the basement of the DoB.

I don’t follow immediately, trying to make sense of what I just overheard, and I hear another voice talking. 

– What did she want?

– She was asking for more pills. 

– Why were you so loud, then? Are you two having troubles?

– No, Madam, no problems at all. – She lies. 

I peek out from the corner of the niche in which I’m hiding and see another doctor—I presume from the white coat—leaning against the doorframe, looking at Doctor Pusher with dubious eyes. It appears she suspects Doctor Pusher is lying. And if she is, why would she?

***

I’m lying awake in my bed. As usual. Nervous, excited, thrilled even, for what I might have discovered. I couldn’t sleep after what I witnessed. Now I have the proof, beyond any reasonable doubt, that something is definitely going on! 

It has been a while since I haven’t lost sleep at night thinking of something. But what has always kept my mind busy was the thought of my biological mother. This time I have a mystery far too tangled and, as it appears, far too dangerous.

The night is fading out, and the morning light is stretching over the horizon. 

The sense of frustration I feel deep in my soul isn’t something I wouldn’t like to admit to anybody, but when I’m alone, I cannot lie to himself.

Why am I utterly enthralled by the idea that someone is trying to mess with my life? 

Suddenly the light pacing in the front room startles me. I’m aware of Dolores coming to my rooms sometimes at night, but somehow, I have a feeling this time it isn’t her. Who else would have entered my rooms, by night, if not her? What purpose could have possibly drawn someone else here? 

I decide to creep out of my bed to go have a look. The door is ajar, and the faded light of the day draws a pale blue square right into the middle of the front room floor. A dark shape is bent over an open drawer, searching through its content. The cupboard cabinets are also being searched throughout.

What is she searching for? What does Dolores keep in there? – I wonder.

My heart starts racing like a horse inside my chest, galloping up and down. I can feel my own ear drums expand with each and every heartbeat, and my head pulses like the brain is about to explode. Who could that person be? 

I try hard to figure out the shape hidden underneath the overalls, but I cannot make out a single detail. All I see is just a black, medium-size silhouette. It can be anyone. 

All of a sudden, the shape turns around and stares at the door that I’m peeping from. I retreat immediately. My heart stops beating instantly. Did she see me? 

My mind dashes through each option available to me. Instinctively, I think of locking the door and resisting her entrance. But the idea is immediately dismissed because I tell myself whoever had dared to come here, in the middle of the night, must have had a more than good reason and surely has taken into consideration the possibility of a physical confrontation. And I know I’m no good when it comes down to physical things! My body is way too weak. It’s not slender, it’s skinny! It’s like my muscles have retreated inside the bones!

Eventually, I opt to tiptoe back to my bed and pretend to sleep. This way I might have the chance to see the villain from a much shorter distance and maybe I even get a look at her face.

I freeze in my bed expectantly, gazing at the door through the slits of my eyelids. The bedcovers have become heavy as rocks over my chest and make it difficult to breathe. I try to calm myself, to steady my chest. The pacing reaches the door, and an unknown hand opens it. 

This time the outline is more obvious. The overall is far too big for the person who wears it: the sleeves are rolled up, and so are the legs. Now I can clearly see the person might not be taller than I, and the body is lightly built. The shape seems to shift its gaze swiftly around the bedroom as it scans every corner. The posture reminds me of someone, but I cannot pinpoint any of the people I know. 

My forehead is slowly getting covered in perspiration. I concentrate to keep my eyes closed and try to relax the eyelids, so they won’t give me away. I start shivering like I’m having a fever.

Unfortunately, it appears that also the shape has noticed and therefore moves closer towards my bed. I force myself to stay calm while my body is screaming in fear, and because of it, my breath almost dies out. I remain still, listening carefully to every little sound, amplified by the fear, for far too long until I realize I’m alone again. 

After a while, I hear the commotion from the corridor. Somebody has started to scream out loud, calling for help. Still in bed, I peep through my eyelids and methodically search the room. The shape has vanished without a trace. Then, relieved, I get up and run to see what is happening out there.

THREE

Right outside my rooms, on the left, down the dim lit corridor, a body is lying on the floor. Three people are surrounding it, and I can’t clearly see who it belongs to. What I see is just the nightgown spread out over the shiny floor, for the legs are oddly positioned. I’m afraid to proceed any further because I suspect, with a pang in my chest of some frightening feeling, it might be someone I know well. 

Slowly I move closer along with others who, like me, have exited their rooms, drawn by curiosity. 

I take a few steps forward, and each of them builds up more anxiety. Why do I have the disturbing feeling that this accident might have anything to do with the intruder? Could it be my fault? The very thought leaves me aghast! I can’t believe I might be drawing such attention. And why would I, anyway?

I’m almost there. I haven’t noticed but, while I was wondering about the intruder, I have stopped and now there are a lot of youngsters around the body who shade it from my view. I peek above their shoulders to catch a glimpse. I see only bare feet, though. The size and the skin colour tell me they surely are of an adult. 

This simple fact makes my mind alert. 

I’m not quite sure if I want to know more. The initial feeling of fright seems to have been promoted to terror.

I try to draw back a few steps while the throng pushes me forward. Then I recognize Benjamin, on his knees, raising his face and looking at me with eyes wide open. My feet freeze instantly, but my head start shaking from side to side like I am denying my brain what my heart already knows.

Benjamin stands and starts to approach me, to console me, I guess. I realize I am in no mood to hear what he has to say. Whatever it is, I don’t want to know.

I dart back to my room and lock the door. My mind running through images as I go. Of me and her. Of her lovely face at night while wishing me good night. Of us sitting at my table while I’m studying. Of us arguing. No, it cannot be! Not her! Why her?

The knocking at my door goes increasingly loud. 

– Stop it! I cry my lungs out. Go away!

– Please, Julian.

– Leave me alone!

– Let me in. – Benjamin’s voice almost pleading.

– I said, go! 

– You cannot do this on your own! – this time with despair in his tone. – Open up!

– I’m fine! Just leave! – I say, eager to be left alone.

– You know I won’t leave you alone. I’m not leaving! You hear me? I’m not!

– You stubborn donkey! – I furiously get up and storm to the door and open it angrily. – And now what? How do you think you can help me?

– By being here. You are my best friend, and I’ll never leave you alone!

I look at him staring at me. His chin dropped and his lips pouting. His eyes glittering with tears.

– I can do it. I will do it! 

– You need me more than ever. And by the wavering voice and the odd flickering in his eyes I can tell there’s something I hadn’t realized before: he knows!

We stand on the threshold as we silently study one another. I don’t even know whether he has been treated or not. He has never mentioned anything before. But why would he know otherwise? 

I decide I will not inquire any further. For now. It is too risky, and I know nothing myself anyway. 

A few moments later the echo of hard soles on the stairs, then marching loudly along the corridor towards my room, announces the arrival of the Guardians.

As they approach the body, the crowd disperses, and everyone returns to their rooms. 

I am still on the threshold with Benjamin, and I see them pass by. They surely are striking: six tall men dressed in black suits, heavy boots to the knees, and equipped with weapons of all sorts. Ahead of them is their chief, Mr. Bold, a broad shouldered, tall, and mighty-built man who is in command of the Legion.

I have no recollection of such a tragic event ever happening before. No one of my age can remember a homicide! Oh my god! A homicide! They killed her!

Once Dolores told me that she and Mr. Bold had been schoolmates and, from the way she talked about him, I suspected they had more than a mere friendship.

I guess he showed up to personally supervise the investigation! That’s why he came along! So, now what? Should I report the intrusion, or should I hold it back?

I’ve never been in trouble before, and I’m sure Dolores would agree that I’d better keep my nose clean this time, too.  Helping to solve her murder won’t do me any good if I become suspected of being part of some secret, or some kind of mystery I don’t know much about myself. I could lose my reputation and integrity. My future as a diplomat would be ruined forever. All these years together, Dolores has made it clear.

I’d better keep quiet, at least until I know who I can trust. And right now, I can trust no one. If Dolores had been so careful and ended up dead, I would have had to keep my mouth shut for the sake of my own life.

Benjamin and I stand petrified, next to each other, both at gazing the sprawling body lying on the shiny floor, as the Legion approaches. Now that all the people have gone, I can see her clearly. My mother, my beloved foster mother Dolores, is dead.

FOUR

It’s morning, and I’ve spent the last three hours of my night in deep sorrow, mourning the woman I have loved my entire life, the one who not only raised me but also took care of me, rocked me at night, rebuked me – whatever the reason, and even comforted me whenever I was in need. I cannot think what I would have become without her caring presence! And now, when I’m close to the most important day of my life, when her support would be essential, she’s gone. She won’t see the day she has been raising me for: the day I would become a Diplomat. She was so obsessed that, as far as I remember, it was the priority she would never, ever give up.

As I think of all the moments we’ve shared, I suddenly realize that her death might have something to do with the secret she’s been withholding from me. Might this be the reason for the intruding?

In my mind becomes more and more clear the sense of those words I overheard last night when I followed Dolores down to the DoHC just after we had that stupid conversation regarding the pills and her promise to unveil the mystery, but only after she’d talked to someone.
So, as I learnt lately, there was indeed a secret that had to be kept undisclosed, and there was even an unwanted interest on the DoB that seemed to generate some sort of fear of being exposed. The more I speculate about it, the more I grow greedy for answers, and I bet the key to all the turmoil is to be found in the DoHC. But prior to inquiring Doctor Pusher about anything, I must talk to Ben and find out whether my suspicion is well-founded. He certainly knows more than he tells.

It’s finally time to go to school. Berenice is here. She came in early today to take over the task that was assigned to Doris, just till yesterday, helping me with the usual morning routine.

She is very quiet and sometimes peeps at me with concern. Furthermore, she carefully avoids any sort of conversation, not even engaging my look. Hadn’t I known her the way I do, I might have been concerned with her lack of thoughtfulness, or is she being just wary?

Somehow it reminds me of Dolores, and the feeling I got every time Berenice was around. The exact same weird feeling of something I couldn’t pinpoint. Does she perceive me as a threat? And why would she feel threatened at all? Am I getting paranoid?

As for now, I am grateful for her caution; it relieves me from having to acknowledge her presence instead of the one I am deeply missing and of which I will cope with for the time to come.

I finish dressing myself with the light purple uniform that distinguishes me and all the other youngster close to the Choosing Ceremony from my class, underlying the fact that I will soon be an Independent Being, and leave my childhood along with everything I’ve known to the present day.

I am early for breakfast, but I’m not at all feeling hungry. And the numbness, somehow, deprives me of all my feelings, but one: wrath. Only yesterday I felt so blessed, confident for my imminent future, eager to leave the DoB and start my new life away from Dolores.

And today, only a few hours later, I find myself powerless, with a tearing struggle between heart and mind to keep my anger at bay, incapable of giving myself the right impulse to start the day ahead, as if an ineluctable misfortune had been bestowed upon my head.

Determined to hold on to my purpose, I decide to go directly to Ben’s room, before he leaves for the canteen. I storm up the staircase to his door and realize his foster mother Ludmilla is there, animatedly instructing him on something. I hold my horses and stop right behind the door, close enough to hear her squeaking voice. She’s scolding him and commanding him to contain his arrogance and – for once – try to be nice to his teacher, for this is his last year in school. Soon he would need to start the adult life as an Independent Being. And being as unruly as he is, it won’t be any good to his social life. She highly recommends him enrolling in the Guardians, where he for sure will be able to tame his unrestrained temper and finally acquire the respect that is due to all members of one of the most important roles of our society.

Then, suddenly, her voice lowers to a whisper, so I can’t hear what she’s saying, but somehow, I’m sure it is about the secret, such the very one I had shared with Dolores.

Now, more than ever, I’m determined to demand what his knowledge is about the pills.

My hand is in mid-air, just about to knock on the door, when Ben opens it. We hold a stare at each other with odd surprise for a bunch of second.

– Aren’t we too early, today? – He tries to break the ice with sarcasm.

– I guess. – I reply calmly.

His expression on his face hardens and his intent becomes more serious as he continues.

– Did you manage to sleep? You look like you stayed up all night. I bet your nightmare have kept you awake. Am I right? I can tell from your hair: it’s tangled as just as your thoughts!

– No, really, I slept. Not much, but I did. – I lie.

– Maybe I believe you. Just maybe! – Ben looks at me with wariness.
– Are you ready to go?
– I am. – I state with a steady voice I barely recognize as mine.

On our way down the stairs, I stop and with a gingerly glance at the top and the bottom flight to check on unwanted eavesdroppers. I decide to go for the surprise effect and ask in a quick breath without leaving him the time to think.

– Did you take your pill last night?
He does not answer, but he lingers on, and his face turns red like as he had just swallowed a frog. Immediately after it appears as the breath stops right in his throat and he begins to cough as if to spit it out. I calmly start to pat his back, making him relax.

– What do you mean? – Ben feigns not to fall off his chair.

– You know exactly what I’m talking about! – I whisper pissed off.

As I wait for his answer, I stare into his eyes with my body quivering in anger that’s building up extremely fast.
– We shouldn’t be talking about this matter here. – He murmurs, fully alerted, aware of the danger.

We agree on going out of the DoB, away from any possible curious ear. This is a serious, and it shouldn’t to be handled lightly.

FIVE

We decided to skip breakfast and head on directly to school. On the way to DoC, I walk at a brisk pace with a troubled mind, struggling to word my thoughts. I try a few times with no success, and at each one of my attempts, Ben starts coughing to stop me and gain time for himself.
Just when we are about to enter the building, I stop in front of the big doors and state.

• You’re not helping me.

Ben stops and faces me with wide eyes and nods. I’m almost sure I caught a hint of fear in his eyes.

• I know. But I need time.
• Time? What for?
• It’s not up to me. I need to talk to someone before we could talk about anything.
• Talk to whom?
• I cannot disclose any details. Trust me on this. It may be dangerous.
• What on earth are you babbling about? – I lost my composure and began to show all my latent frustration and increasing indignation.
• It’s not safe.
• Who are you? Am I talking to Benjamin, a totally untamed guy who takes decisions on the spot and steams over a prohibition?
• I know, sometimes I act indeed like a selfish, stubborn, arrogant lunatic, but it’s mostly a facade. And you, most of all, should know better!

While we argue over him not giving me an answer, four youngsters approach us, so we fall silent.

As they pass by us, I recognize Rebecca amongst them, who stops and addresses me.

• I’m so sorry for Dolores, Julian. – Her gaze indulges over to my direction, locking on me with intense eyes, and then she disappears through the doors.
• You should go and thank her. I’d say she’s quite a nice girl. One day you’ll need a wife.
• What in the name of God are you talking about? Can you please stop bringing up nonsense?
• Nonsense? You think I’m back to being the prick everyone knows me for, just to avoid your questioning?
• I don’t get it. Why? Why would you even say that! Time? You think I don’t know what’s going on? – I snort.
• No, you don’t! And stop raising your voice. – He murmurs, annoyed. – We will talk, simply not yet!
• Do you want to know what happened just the night before Dolores died?
• What do you mean?
• I mean, do you really want to know? I’ll tell you right away.

Benjamin shows a crescent uneasiness and seems unable to gulp his saliva as he attempts to stop me from speaking forward.

• Well, I asked her the same question, and she gave me the exact same answer. She didn’t survive the night to give me that answer. And I’m afraid that if I don’t get an answer from you right now, you’ll also disappear.
• What? You think Dolores is dead because of the…?
• Because of what? Spit it out! Do you understand now we are here alone and we need to join our forces, to make a team? We need to have a plan!
• Julian, I’m not sure whether this is something we can handle ourselves.
  
  
  TO BE CONTINUED