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S e p t e m b e r , 2 1 4 7

Water. The sound of rapid, rushing water fills my ears before anything else does. Its soothing hum washes away any traces of panic I could possibly possess. My eyes slowly blink open, and then I drown in confusion.

"What the..." I look down to see another paralyzer gun in my hands, deadly as ever. This can only mean one thing.

I scan the glowing cityline, subtly amazed at all of the lights. Turning my head, I realize that I'm standing on a well-lit bridge across... a river.

Heavy helmet still on my head, I read the visor for more clues: Thursday, September 3nd, 2147. 76 degrees Fahrenheit at 8:57 at night. It took three days to relocate me.

Relocation. This is where they sent me, but why didn't they kill me? Why wasn't I tortured to death or locked into that pale prison again?

I shouldn't question it. I should just stand here like a good Screener, a good Project subject, and follow the rules again, the rules that keep me safe and free within limits. But where's...

"Stephen," I whisper.

"Right here, 400."

My heart jumps in shock, but my body doesn't. "Oh, thank God you're here."

"I could say the same," Stephen chuckles. "I've been awake since Tuesday, but whatever they had you on made you a normal human to everyone else but a zombie to me."

"Sorry," I rush. "I'm so sorry, Stephen. You were totally right about the whole thing, and I was so stupid to talk to my mom. Now I've got us both stuck in this random city far away from our families in Philly and no chance of ever seeing them again."

"Hey, we're still alive, no worries," Stephen replies smoothly.

"And still a team?"

"Always," he says, changing the topic. "So where are you now? I'm scouting off the top of a skyscraper."

"I'm on some bridge somewhere. Any clue where I am?"

"Say no more. I'll get you at nine."

"Okay, thanks," I say, "and Stephen?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"My pleasure, Miss Holland Renner."

"Wow, someone seems happy," I point out, genuinely surprised.

"Well, you'll see why soon," Stephen says, suspense woven into his voice.

"Good work, Screeners," a sharp female voice announces into my all-to-familiar Screener earpiece. "You're dismissed from your position once your replacement arrives."

After an extra few minutes of waiting, a red Screener taps me on the shoulder, relieving me from my position. I gladly scoot out of the way, surprised that I'm back under my own control. I wait on the empty pavement for Stephen, and my heart beats faster when I see his familiar build approaching.

Covered by darkness, Stephen embraces me right on the river bank, his arms twisting around my back. I've never felt more at ease in the heavy guilt of my choices. I talked to my mom and ruined his freedom within limits, his time away from the terrifying white walls.

"Let's get changed," Stephen whispers into my earpiece, our helmets still on. "I want to show you around."

I nod, following him back onto the road. "I would take my helmet off," Stephen explains with a grin, "but it's against protocol here."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think they put the rule into effect because a certain, blonde-haired girl named 400 decided to take her helmet off back in Philadelphia."

I smile at the ground. "That doesn't sound likely at all."

-- -- -- -- --

After swapping out our Screener gear for civilian clothing in a government locker room, we step out into the humid air. Pushing a strand of hair behind my ear, I straighten my outfit. Stephen adorns a white polo and khakis while I wear a summer dress with white wedges.

Dresses and collared shirts are statements of status reserved only for the upper-class. It feels strange to be breaking such a basic rule of my middle-class rank, but I don't think too much about it. I am upper-class now, even if I don't fully understand why.

"And now for the grand tour," Stephen says as we walk down the street. The city gradually fills with people as we enter the city's marketplace. Stephen takes me into a cozy restaurant with classical music playing, not stopping at a table. Instead, he bypasses the dining area and leads us into an elevator. He taps a holographic button, closing the doors.

"Stephen, where are we going?" The elevator pressure causes my knees to bend as we head upwards. My fingers lock discreetly on the railing.

"I can't tell you. That would spoil the surprise," Stephen says, smiling at me. "Don't try to trick me, Miss Holland Renner." He turns his head back to the doors.

"Wouldn't dream of it," I reply sweetly, "But your pants zipper appears to be open."

Stephen's neck straightens, but he remains focused on the metal doors. His cheeks redden slightly, a grin threatening to command the corners of his lips as I smirk. Only then do I notice his cheeks no longer have their pale yellow tint.

The elevators open, and I let out a breath of air. I step out onto the rooftop, completely forgetting about Stephen. Walking slowly across the gritty ground, I gaze in awe at the spaciousness of the roof and the darkness that commands the sky. Stepping close to the edge of the building, I see a beautifully-lit city bisected by a river.

"Welcome to Grand Rapids, Miss Renner," Stephen says beside me. We cross our arms on the protective wall, not daring to look away from all the glowing skyscrapers.

"I love it," I whisper, light wind pulling at my hair. I scan the city once more, something nagging horribly at my brain. It takes a heavy silence and a few minutes for me to figure it out.

"Wait," I say, gazing across the cityscape. "How do you know my last name?"

Silence.

I turn to face Stephen. He doesn't look at my eyes. He keeps his head bent, and the air between us completely changes.

"I know your name," Stephen says quietly, facing the skyline with pure dread in his tone, "Because I know more about you... than I should."

The way he says it makes me terrified. A tremor rocks through my heart. "What?"

"Holland, you don't understand. They made me pick."

Silence, this time heavier than a thousand tons of bricks. The skyline disappears entirely, and my only care in the world is Stephen.

"S-Stephen, you're not making any sense," I say, my lip trembling.

He raises his head. "Holland, there's a reason why you were my cellmate. Two years ago, those freaking scientists made me pick 15 people to enter the Project from your Train..."

He stops for a moment. "From SkyTrain 267-B. And I chose you, okay?" He's fully standing now, facing me head-on.

"I chose you to enter the Project first."

-- -- -- -- --

yeah, that just happened. but the plottwists aren't even close to being over.

Pick a phrase: the signup, the blast, or the idleness.

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