2.

Opting-In

Opt-In day came faster than Donna had anticipated. She woke before the sun could blanket her room in shadows and she dressed as she would every other day. She pulled her kinky hair back in a tight bun from her face, and she packed her satchel with as many sketchbooks and pencils as it could carry; on the inside she had sewn a false bottom for her savings, wrapped in paper and stuffed into zip lock bags. She put on her favorite shoes-- the black ones that were comfortable-- and she grabbed her overnight bag-- filled with at least five changes of clothing, toiletries, and underwear.

The Opt-In manual was thin. They were stamped with the same seal that had been stamped on Isabel’s Opt-Out manual. The entire ten pages of the book only told Donna what she could bring with her, what tests would be administered, and how to be prepared for them. The rest were disclosures for proper assignment behaviors and what would or would not be tolerated upon lifestyle label assignments. It was a quick read and was noticeably vague, but Donna was ready.

Or at least she was as ready as she could be without knowing exactly what to expect.

She would claim the homosexual label, and then she would take the fertility test. After that, she would sit for her aptitude exam (in case any of the gifted had somehow slipped through The Core’s vigorous schooling system) and after still, she would be assigned a label, a job and a place to live-- or none of those things if she was sent to The Enclosure.

The only thing Donna wasn’t ready for was saying goodbye to her mother.

Donna sat on her bed patiently. Her alarm clock hadn’t gone off and she knew not to leave before Richard called her-- because he had brothers (twin brothers-- definitely an accomplishment for any expecting parents) to say goodbye to; a mother and a father he would never see again. She waited until her alarm clock went off to greet her mother, who sat at the kitchen table with her hands folded in front of her.

Donna sat opposite of her. They rarely ate dinner at the table. They rarely ate together, period. Her mother had a small black box in front of her. The grim look on her face set the tone as Donna settled in quietly in her seat. "I never knew how this would go. We were never close...but you are my child. Inside of you, I’m sure there is much of me-- or at least what I was before this." Her mother took a deep breath then, shuddering before regaining her composure. "In the Shell, I lived in a city called Home...you were conceived there. When you were born, I realized what love was. But I knew, too, that you would leave me and I would have to deal with life without you. So I loved you as little as I could, so that it wouldn’t hurt as much when the inevitable happened."

Her mother looked away; a strangled noise climbed up her throat and stuck there before she took another breath. "I want to give you this, now. I don’t know what The Enclosure is like. Your father went and wanted to return, but I could not afford his transport. All he said is that he made a mistake-- his lover had been long dead. And there was nothing for him there. I won’t ever know where you’ll end up. I still hope that you will be labeled fertile. But in case you are not... this is yours now."

Her mother pushed the box forward, slowly, her hands shaking as if she were transporting dynamite. Donna reached out for it in the same second her mother leaned back in her chair, watching Donna as she picked it up. She almost felt afraid to open it, but she sensed that some missing piece would be revealed to her-- so she clicked open the box and stared down at the jewelry inside it.

It was a stopwatch. She could feel time ticking by in her hands, slow and sure and constant. It was gold and unblemished and round. When she hit the clasp on the side it sprung open to reveal a photo. It was a real, live photo. Donna had never seen one other than on a computer screen, and even still-- they were all for reference and history. Cameras were usually for officials and security. Things like photos were contraband-- especially if one was sent by the post.

Donna loved to sketch because she wanted to be able to remember. She wanted to make photos of things and people to refer to when time passed and their images faded in her mind. She teared up more when she squinted at the photo.

Her mother was younger. Her milky skin was unblemished and glowing, her brown eyes soulful and full of hope. She wasn’t smiling, but she looked as close to happy as Donna could ever remember. She held Donna in her arms in front of a house that Donna assumed she had moved from when her father left them. The man standing beside her mother was tall, very handsome and beaming into the camera. She assumed that this was her father. His brown skin was dark and even--it looked strong, as if nothing could mark it. He was Black. They would call someone like him that if things were how they used to be-- if race were important instead of all the other things that plagued the declining population.

"There is a slide on the inside to cover the photo..." Donna looked away for the first time, toward her mother. The photo was contraband; the locket without the photo was not. Feelings Donna had never experienced were coursing through her. Donna’s fingernail was long enough to pull the slide down shut. It clicked into place and it was gold as well-- the small latch was something that no one would notice unless they knew about it. Engraved on the slide covering the photo was a date: that of Donna’s birth.

Donna didn’t stop the audible gasp from leaving her lips. Her mother had always been distant; Donna could rarely gauge what kind of mood her mother would be in. She could only remember her mother going to work at the Management Systems Facility Center, coming home, and watching the news. Her mother pulled her from her recollections by clearing her throat.

"I never thought I’d have a child...or want a child. After the trials proved successful, I was forced to. I never believed I’d be able to love another person so much. And when your father left to find his love, I had my own all to myself. But then I realized that the same would happen to you. That I would never get to know you beyond Opt-In. I would probably never get to know your children, if you could have them, and they would never know me."

Her mother crying unsettled her. She wanted to go to her and offer comfort. But she didn’t know how to do that. Donna’s mother continued. "I was worried that you may even be destined to the same fate as your father. I don’t know what your assignment will be. Just...don’t forget me, Donna. Know that I love you more than I could ever love another person. If I could change time I would have loved you harder, because it hurts just as much to lose you now, and possibly for forever. I thought it would be easier this way...and I’m sorry...I’m so sorry."

Her mother stood then, she rounded the table for two and fell to her knees in front of Donna. She kissed Donna’s hands. It was the most affectionate thing her mother had ever done, and she didn’t understand how to process the feeling, but she did nonetheless. She let her mother cry over wasted time until her second alarm buzzed from the room she would never return to. It was time to meet Richard. It was time for goodbyes.

She hugged her mother before she left, and she forced herself not to go back. It was too late for that now; too late for regrets. She put the pocket watch inside the false pocket in her satchel, and she left for Opt-In day.

***

The line for the Opt-In stretched ridiculously around a corner, down a full city block, and ended at Donna and Richard’s feet. The wait would be excruciating; counting minutes until their confirmation—their lifestyle assignments. But Donna had been waiting for almost 21 years; a few more minutes wouldn’t be too hard. It was a warm day, in a way that made Donna’s shirt collar seem too tight—muggy by means of sweltering humidity that caused her clothing to cling to her wet skin—and shrouded her with dripping uncertainty. August 13th was Opt-In day every year. It commemorated the discovery of the first homosexual gene marker-- a discovery first made over a century before.

It was also the day after she was born. Her birthday always felt like an afterthought.

She had turned 21 the day before, and she would be given a lifestyle assignment today. And every birthday after would be a great reminder, or a great regret. It would always mark her last day of freedom. Donna was waiting for the line to move. No one who went inside came back out. She knew that most of the people she had experimented with over the past year were going to be going other places; doing other things. Even Richard could be ripped from her if he wound up being fertile.

The line shrugged along. Groups of five were sent in, and she would never know how many of those faces she would ever see again. When there were nine people in front of her, she turned to Richard. "Should we say goodbye now?"

Richard looked wearily at her. "Let’s not. We’re more than likely going to the same place. Let’s just say...see ya tomorrow?" Richard smiled his optimistic smile, but Donna could almost see the slight hesitation.

"You’re right. We have nothing to worry about. See you in The Enclosure?"

Richard nodded; but there were tears in his eyes. He reached his hand out to hers and held it for the remainder of the wait in line.

***

Almost twenty minutes later Donna let go of Richard’s hand-- a soft smile played at her lips. She didn’t feel sad...but she did wonder if they were making the right choices. She worried if she would ever get to see her first again--her best friend. She followed the group of five into the gray building. Guards and other city officials waved them along checkpoints. Donna pushed her satchel through the scanners, hoping they wouldn’t confiscate anything she had inside it. The bag went through without problem, as did her overnight bag. The next checkpoint was for registration, and the small group lined up to get their fingerprints scanned and their pictures taken.

The photo she took was for identification purposes only. She had taken one for her identification card at work as well; the card itself was blank and white-- but her photo showed up whenever she made a phone call or when the card itself was swiped. Her thumb print would change after the branding, but Donna assumed it was for precaution...or history keeping. She thought nothing of it.

The first actual door the group came upon was steel, and it was reinforced. Marked plainly on it: Opt-In Committee. Donna sat in one of the chairs outside the room with the others, and she finally let things sink in. The other four people in the group seemed to know one another. A male and female couple seemed extremely confident they would be sorted together-- they smiled and held hands and talked about where in the Shell they would be going. The other two were men who talked quietly among themselves-- they looked to be related. She felt alone for the first time that day-- she had been wishing Richard had been in this group; just so she would have someone to talk to. Just in case Donna would need to say goodbye to him.

The door opened suddenly then--right when regret started creeping into her thoughts. The entire group rose as they were beckoned inside to stand in front of the council of people. Donna recognized President Prescott in the center, daunting despite his white hair and tired eyes. Next to him was a woman Donna had never seen; red hair flamed wildly around her face. Donna couldn’t remember ever seeing a redheaded person before-- in school they always said those gene carriers were extinct. Two others sat beside the woman; one of them was The Coalition reporter, and the other was a man who was too tall even while he was sitting. Next to President Prescott was the Vice President of The Core, DiDi Stuart-- a woman known to never leave her compound--except, of course, for Opt-In Day. Beside her was another person Donna had never seen, but she felt like she would remember his eye patch for the rest of her life; it was protruded from his face as if his eye spilled out from its socket underneath it. She looked away from him, then.

President Prescott stood from the long table and began speaking; his voice boomed across the conference room to where the group was standing. "Welcome to the Opt-In. Here, you will claim your orientation. Through experimentation, you were instructed to explore your own sexual identities in order to assist in the lifestyle assignments you will receive today. The fertility test following this will determine where you will wind up in the territories. For the Record, state your name, as well as the label you are claiming."

Donna watched the others claim their labels. First, the heterosexual looking couple claimed their straight labels together, smiling knowingly between each other. The two men who Donna assumed were cousins both claimed the questioning label. When it was her turn, she took a sobering breath before she spoke. "My name is Donna Meadows. Today I am claiming the homosexual label."

When it was out of her mouth, it felt final. And it felt right.

***

The fertility test room was through a connecting door of the Opt-In committee room. Donna was the last of the group to be admitted inside. A very stern looking nurse sat at the table with a single chair beside it. There were swabs and syringes and other medical supplies in a glass case behind her. The nurse took her blood in silence and swabbed the inside of her mouth before dismissing her. She was ushered into the hallway by a guard before being led to the testing room.

Donna couldn’t help but feel a bit rushed through it all. No one offered any explanations as the group walked through the building. Doors lined the hallways as they walked, all of them labeled with "Testing in Progress". They reached the end of the hall and were shown into a room with five desks lining it.

The test booklet was thick. Donna did well enough in school that she graduated by 16 with honors. The Core educated each citizen the same. They were taught all forms of math, science, English, and geography, as well as the history of Old America. There were other things taught to them as well: first aid and computer repair, extreme weather survival skills and forest navigation. Everyone had to have the same basis of education, in case the population began to decline again.

"An ignorant population is a dwindling population." Donna almost saw the old commercial playing on the white of the test papers. She shook her head and started the test, answering questions with a sense of ease she hadn’t expected. There were straightforward questions like math problems, there were other questions that were composed of shapes and patterns-- things that tested creativity and scopes of thinking. She was the first finished, and she watched as the others got through their tests as well. When they were finished, they put their answer sheets into the computer feed. The guards returned, and they were led back to the room with the Opt-In Committee inside it.

Everyone waited in silence as President Prescott stood to read the results. Donna held her breath and she didn’t know why she wanted to. The heterosexual couple were called first, and they unaligned with the group across from the President. The man was Peter, and his girlfriend was Eva. Eva held Peter’s hand as the President read his assignment. "Peter Primpton. Negative Claim: Heterosexual. Appropriate Gene Type: Homosexual gene marker from former lineage. Fertility: Impossible, nonexistent. Couple Claim: Unsuitable for Conception." Peter let Eva’s hand drop from his, and he brought his own up to catch the tears that began falling. The President continued, "Assigned Classification: Homosexual infertile, Territorial Assignment: The Enclosure until death unless adopted. Please step back."

Eva looked back at Peter sadly before facing the President. "Eva Smith. Predicted Claim: Heterosexual. Fertility: Mid-level. Territorial Assignment: Shell City: Abode. Mate and Employment assignments will be available upon arrival. Please step back." Eva looked over at Peter, whose hands were clenched at his sides now in anger. He was whispering something to himself that Donna could not decipher from her vantage point. The guard standing behind the group stood at alert, ready to dispel any commotion. Donna looked away as the President continued down the line, assigning the relatives both to The Enclosure. Donna waited for the assignment she knew was coming.

"Donna Meadows, step forward." Donna did as she was instructed. The President continued, "...Negative Claim: Homosexual. Appropriate Gene Type: Heterosexual. There is no evidence of the homosexual gene in your DNA. Fertility: High Expectancy. Territory Assignment: Shell City: Paradise. Mate and Employment assignments will be available arrival. Please step back."

Donna was in shock. That wasn’t... she wasn’t. There must have been a mix up-- a mistake. She took a step forward, another followed before a firm grip latched around her wrist and tightened, bringing her back into a solid body.

“There must be some mistake. I-- I’m homosexual. That...maybe our vials were mixed up. Maybe it was switched with Peter’s--"

The President slammed a hand down on the table. Donna had been struggling against the guard holding her wrist. She stopped immediately. Tears sprung to her eyes and she brushed them away with her free hand.

She didn’t even know why, but this felt like a betrayal.

***

Her thumb was flat on the oval shaped branding machine. There was a pinch, and Donna felt the broken skin allow a probe into her, a little chip that would know where she was at all times. Her eyes had been red from crying. Everyone in the Opt-In Committee room watched in confusion as she tried to make sense of things. She didn’t understand why she felt so...disappointed.

The scanner began burning into her flesh; she could feel the rounded curve the machine was making-- the one that didn’t have the strike across it. The one that meant open. Viable. She knew she wanted it off-- gone immediately. It shouldn’t be there. When she moved her finger off the machine she brought it within eyesight. A plain, empty, circle. It meant straight. It mean fertile.

It meant wrong.

***

Her bags were already in the cargo space beneath the passenger bus. She was ushered out of the building and into the large passenger vehicle. There were nine others inside it, four women and five men, all of them either smug or torn about their assignments. Donna chose an empty seat toward the back, and she leaned against the tinted windows and let her mind drift. She stared down at her branding. It was swollen on the pad of her thumb, bold and fresh enough that blood still seeped from it.

What did it all mean? Was she supposed to have some giant discovery? Some grand epiphany about how wrong she was? Her orientation was her identity. And she had thought she had it figured out-- maybe if she had experimented more, or sooner or...

She was going to Paradise in The Shell. Whatever that was. Donna was so sure it was the one place she didn’t want to be, and she couldn’t figure out how she knew that. She should be happy. Most people would be happy in her situation. She could only hope that this unknown was better than what The Enclosure would have been.

At least The Enclosure meant having a choice. The Enclosure meant having a say in her future.

She would be assigned a mate. Someone she had never met, someone she could potentially hate. And they’d be forced to breed like cattle—as if her body didn’t even belong to her. She had never really thought about children. A family of her own. She never worried about belonging to someone by marriage. The Enclosure wasn’t allowed marriage. They were ignored by The Core-- by The Shell. And she would be allowed marriage...but it meant nothing if she couldn’t marry someone she loved and cared about—if she couldn’t marry a woman. Donna didn’t want it. She didn’t want that life. She didn’t want to be with a man-- she loved women and she was a lesbian and this was wrong.

It had to be wrong.

The bus pulled off, and the roads started to fade and disappear into the night, and Donna stared blankly out of the window and let her tears fall casually.

No one on the bus bothered her.

***

They drove for hours. By the time the bus reached The Shell’s massive gates she had been sleeping deeply, dry tears crumbled into her eyes as she blinked them open. Everyone was waking up as they entered the city. There were things inside the gates that Donna had never seen before. The bus crept along a main street; the buildings along the strip were multicolored and bold. There were tea shops and toy stores and electronic stores and banks; whimsical color schemes and delightful sights that Donna had never known of.

There was even an arts supply store. And it was bigger than the craft shop that mainly stocked for architects in The Core.

As they turned a corner, she saw it: a billboard behind a baseball diamond, a woman feeding dinner to three children and a husband with a smile plastered across her face. Words across the bottom of the billboard read, "Everything is perfect in Paradise," and Donna shivered involuntarily. People were waving at the bus as they passed, until they came to a stop in front of the only gray building Donna had seen since they came through the gates.

They were ushered by a guard into the town hall, and Donna picked at her skirt as they stood at the counter. The clerk was notably happy to see them. She looked tired, as if she hadn’t slept in forever-- like she had stayed up all night to welcome them to town.

The clerk gave the bus driver directions to drop off destinations.

"Welcome to Paradise," the clerk yawned, "Today you are free to enjoy the town." The clerk sat a hefty bunch of booklets on the desk before staring dully at the group of them. "Read your Assignment packages. They list employment opportunities, mate profiles, as well a vast collection of information about the assignment process. Tomorrow you will all be married and bound by law to procreate and replenish the population with your respective mates. Marriage duties and other important details are also listed in the packets. Tonight, you will be housed at Paradise Hotel. Enjoy your stay at Paradise. I wish you all many children."

The clerk yawned violently into her hand before walking away, and the group made their way back onto the bus. This was it. Her new home. There was an unsettling in her stomach as she clutched the manual to her chest; her future felt so insignificant in her arms as she climbed the steps and took her seat. Her future…if she could even call it that.

Next Chapter: Terms and Trent Weatherby