Post by Disaster <3 on Oct 22, 2007 20:17:24 GMT -5
--This is my spin-off of Scott Westerfeld's Uglies, Pretties, Specials, and Extras series. Enjoy!--
Thoren glared out his barred window. There wasn’t anything there, of course, except the sky, but he glared at it anyway. He had plenty reason to be upset, too. Three days ago, they’d finally gotten to Tryll, his best friend in this place, turned her into one of them. Now she was a brainless, emotionless… Thoren stopped himself. He wasn’t going to think of her anymore. He couldn’t, not if he was to keep his promise to his friends. Besides, he still had Embry and Zol on his side, and as long as they stayed strong, they could resist anything.
A sharp little ping could be heard, and Thoren’s attention snapped from the window to staring straight ahead, picking up a message on his eye screen. It was from Embry.
Remember, if some one hands you a candy bar, don’t eat it unless you know they didn’t drop it first.
Thoren shook his head. Only he and Zol knew what the message translated into. It had to be cryptic; everyone important in a ten-mile radius could read their mail at will. This one was either meant to be a warning or a reinforcement… or both. It jogged something in his memory, though; He was scheduled for today.
Damn, he thought as his cell door clicked open, whirring mechanically back. A uniformed man was his escort, and Thoren followed along in a sulking silence. This was his third appointment since his arrival only a week ago. His friends had all been caught at the same time he was, and… poor Tryll hadn’t been strong enough. She’d been the newest in their group, so she was naturally going to give in first, but no one thought she’d go so early…
Another door slid open, revealing a tidy little office with a lady sitting behind her desk. She looked pleasant enough, all right, but her appearance was the only nice things about her. Inside, she was a cruel, ruthless beast who broke a person’s spirit with words alone. Words and time.
“Ah, Thoren!” she exclaimed, mock enthusiasm lighting her fake smile. “Come in, come in!” He didn’t have much choice; her strong, well-worked muscles jerked him suddenly in and the door gave a deep click as it settled into place. He was locked in.
“Now,” she said, her flat gray eyes glaring sternly into his bright, intense emerald ones. “What did we learn last week?”
Thoren met her gaze steadily. “I was supposed to learn that I’m insignificant and I have no place here.”
She gave a little nod of approval. “But you didn’t.” It wasn’t a question.
Thoren then took up his normal stance in the chair; Arms folded firmly across his chest, his chin jutted out defiantly with his feet planted firmly on the floor.
“I see,” she said, almost sadly. “Very well.”
“No one wants you. No one cares about you. Your own parents never even wanted you born. Your existence is an accident, and you don’t belong here, Thoren. Just think of how much better the world would be without you in its way. Your mother would have more friends, and your father would have been more successful if you had never been born. Get out of their lives; Get out of everyone’s lives, actually. You’ve never done anything but cause trouble everywhere you’ve been, Thoren. Why should the whole world have to suffer for you? Just become one of us.”
Throughout her whole spiel, Thoren had been trying to block out her words. However, everything she had said was true. His birth was an accident. His mother had lost most of her friends when he’d been born. His father… hadn’t ever been able to get a very good job except once, and that was when Thoren had been born. He lost the position a few days later. It was also true that he was in trouble a lot, but it was because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In fact, the word thoren meant ‘bad luck’ in some language he’d heard before.
Don’t give in, he thought angrily, gripping the edges of the chair. He didn’t want to be one of the Minders in the city. The brainwashed guards just walked around, telling people not to do things or taking them prisoner. And the stares they fixed you with! They were disconcerting beyond belief.
But, being a Minder was the fate of many of the ne’er-do-wells in New Diego. Before, no one had had to worry about the law because everyone got along and no one ever got in trouble. But then Tally Youngblood had come into the picture. About a century ago, she and a bunch of her friends completely crashed the system; everyone turned into a bubble-head pretty when they turned sixteen, then went to live in their little pretty town where life was just one big party after the next. No one argued or fought. The world was, in one sense, perfect.
Dr. Labe, the pessimistic woman, smiled as she watched his defenses fall. He glared at her with intense dislike, but a voice nagged at the back of his mind. Would it really be bad to become a Minder? He’d get to see Tryll every day, help make New Diego a happy, untroubled town, and, most importantly, never have to see Dr. Labe again. But… What about Embry and Zol? He was, more or less, their leader. If he crumbled, how soon would they follow? He couldn’t bear to see Embry’s shock of untamed white-blond hair be clipped away until it was military-short, nor could he ever look Zol in the face if his electric-blue eyes were deadened into the steely gray. Truly a hard decision in the hands of one quite uncertified to make it.
Thoren glared out his barred window. There wasn’t anything there, of course, except the sky, but he glared at it anyway. He had plenty reason to be upset, too. Three days ago, they’d finally gotten to Tryll, his best friend in this place, turned her into one of them. Now she was a brainless, emotionless… Thoren stopped himself. He wasn’t going to think of her anymore. He couldn’t, not if he was to keep his promise to his friends. Besides, he still had Embry and Zol on his side, and as long as they stayed strong, they could resist anything.
A sharp little ping could be heard, and Thoren’s attention snapped from the window to staring straight ahead, picking up a message on his eye screen. It was from Embry.
Remember, if some one hands you a candy bar, don’t eat it unless you know they didn’t drop it first.
Thoren shook his head. Only he and Zol knew what the message translated into. It had to be cryptic; everyone important in a ten-mile radius could read their mail at will. This one was either meant to be a warning or a reinforcement… or both. It jogged something in his memory, though; He was scheduled for today.
Damn, he thought as his cell door clicked open, whirring mechanically back. A uniformed man was his escort, and Thoren followed along in a sulking silence. This was his third appointment since his arrival only a week ago. His friends had all been caught at the same time he was, and… poor Tryll hadn’t been strong enough. She’d been the newest in their group, so she was naturally going to give in first, but no one thought she’d go so early…
Another door slid open, revealing a tidy little office with a lady sitting behind her desk. She looked pleasant enough, all right, but her appearance was the only nice things about her. Inside, she was a cruel, ruthless beast who broke a person’s spirit with words alone. Words and time.
“Ah, Thoren!” she exclaimed, mock enthusiasm lighting her fake smile. “Come in, come in!” He didn’t have much choice; her strong, well-worked muscles jerked him suddenly in and the door gave a deep click as it settled into place. He was locked in.
“Now,” she said, her flat gray eyes glaring sternly into his bright, intense emerald ones. “What did we learn last week?”
Thoren met her gaze steadily. “I was supposed to learn that I’m insignificant and I have no place here.”
She gave a little nod of approval. “But you didn’t.” It wasn’t a question.
Thoren then took up his normal stance in the chair; Arms folded firmly across his chest, his chin jutted out defiantly with his feet planted firmly on the floor.
“I see,” she said, almost sadly. “Very well.”
“No one wants you. No one cares about you. Your own parents never even wanted you born. Your existence is an accident, and you don’t belong here, Thoren. Just think of how much better the world would be without you in its way. Your mother would have more friends, and your father would have been more successful if you had never been born. Get out of their lives; Get out of everyone’s lives, actually. You’ve never done anything but cause trouble everywhere you’ve been, Thoren. Why should the whole world have to suffer for you? Just become one of us.”
Throughout her whole spiel, Thoren had been trying to block out her words. However, everything she had said was true. His birth was an accident. His mother had lost most of her friends when he’d been born. His father… hadn’t ever been able to get a very good job except once, and that was when Thoren had been born. He lost the position a few days later. It was also true that he was in trouble a lot, but it was because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. In fact, the word thoren meant ‘bad luck’ in some language he’d heard before.
Don’t give in, he thought angrily, gripping the edges of the chair. He didn’t want to be one of the Minders in the city. The brainwashed guards just walked around, telling people not to do things or taking them prisoner. And the stares they fixed you with! They were disconcerting beyond belief.
But, being a Minder was the fate of many of the ne’er-do-wells in New Diego. Before, no one had had to worry about the law because everyone got along and no one ever got in trouble. But then Tally Youngblood had come into the picture. About a century ago, she and a bunch of her friends completely crashed the system; everyone turned into a bubble-head pretty when they turned sixteen, then went to live in their little pretty town where life was just one big party after the next. No one argued or fought. The world was, in one sense, perfect.
Dr. Labe, the pessimistic woman, smiled as she watched his defenses fall. He glared at her with intense dislike, but a voice nagged at the back of his mind. Would it really be bad to become a Minder? He’d get to see Tryll every day, help make New Diego a happy, untroubled town, and, most importantly, never have to see Dr. Labe again. But… What about Embry and Zol? He was, more or less, their leader. If he crumbled, how soon would they follow? He couldn’t bear to see Embry’s shock of untamed white-blond hair be clipped away until it was military-short, nor could he ever look Zol in the face if his electric-blue eyes were deadened into the steely gray. Truly a hard decision in the hands of one quite uncertified to make it.