Page 6 of Conform
“I was surprised you knew my birth name. Usually the scanner gives my identification number,” I told my dull shoes, unwilling to look at him again—to see the judgment.
His heavy footsteps echoed down the quiet hall, and I hurried to follow him. “The Elite believe it is barbaric and disrespectful to reduce someone of their ilk to just their identification number. This way.”
Barbaric. The word reverberated through me until it settled in my soul. The man in front of me wore gray, making him a Defect just like me, even in the clouds. Yet, he repeated what the Elite believed. Did his allotted time in the clouds obscure more than his ground view? Had he forgotten it was my people,hispeople, whose identities had been diminished to just numbers?
After tonight, I would either gain a name among the Elite or return to the surface as another number, depending on whether I pleased my potential Mate enough and whether he could look past my defect. I pressed forward, unsure which fate would be worse.
The man deposited me in a circular room painted a glossy black, causing the chandelier’s light to ricochet off the shiny surfaces, creating a glimmering display. It was easy to get lost in the beauty of these rooms. Maybe that was the whole point.
“The Starlings will tend to you from here,” the man said with a little bow.
“The Starlings?”
He gave a terse smile, pausing by the door. “Oh yes, it’s what they call themselves. Like the ancient birds. Fertile blessings, Ms. Emeline.” With that, he closed the door with a snap.
A chill snaked down my spine. The room instantly felt too small, oppressive, the dancing lights disorienting. Each panel looked identical as I spun around. My skin grew clammy. It suddenly felt like a cage.
I heard them before I saw them, two voices through the darkness.
“Well, well, what do we have today, Violet?” a tinkling voice rang out.
“A Defect, Rose. Hopefully better than the one from last week,” another woman answered, her voice deeper, silkier. Who had been chosen last week?
“Even we can’t fix some things,” the other chided.
Two women entered the room. One was tall with rich brown skin, long jet-black hair that fell past her waist, and heavily lined eyes. The other was short with curly, flaming red hair, pale white skin, and an hourglass shape. A clash of contrasting features, but they wore uniform quicksilver long dresses that shimmered in the low light. Was it a shade of gray, or were they Elite? The Academy had never said Defect women could work in the clouds. What had they done to be among the Elite without a Mate?
Hands ran along my body, pulling me from my thoughts. I stiffened against the touch. The intimacy of it.
“Oh, how scrumptious,” Rose cawed.
“Yes, it’s promising,” Violet crooned, her hands in my hair, releasing the tight bun and combing out the long strands with her fingers.
“Oh, how terribly ghastly.” Rose stood on the tips of her toes, peering into my eyes. “I can’t bear to look at it.”
You knew this would be their reaction,I told myself. I was born in the clouds. It could have been my home, if not for my heterochromia. Though I didn’t have any memories of what their world looked like, I did remember the words shot my way.
“Let me see,” Violet said, pulling my face toward her. My eyes stung as their judgment tangled with my conditioning. I tried to look down, but Violet held me firmly. Her dark eyes met mine, and she smiled as she took in my defect. “Avisualdefect. I haven’t seen one in some time.”
“The one with the—” Rose gestured to her arms like she couldn’t bear to speak of it. “Remember her?”
“Yes, well, she stood no chance. She should have been in blue from birth,” Violet responded, taking in my broken gaze.
“There are others like me?” I asked quietly. I hadn’t seen another visual defect in the Academy or working in the Archives. The Minor women all looked from the outside to be unflawed, whatever defect they had invisible. No one ever spoke of what had landed them in gray. I had assumed, without any confirmation from the Academy, that I had somehow been able to maintain a Minor status based on my Elite family and the impeccable genetic history my birth father had spoken of.
“Not anymore. The Illum have weeded your kind out with their Procreation Program,” Rose said.
Violet’s dark eyes met mine. “You’re a dying breed, Fledgling. The Illum must see something in you to bring you into view.”
My shoulders went rigid. What could the Illum want with adying breed?
“Come, little Fledgling,” called Rose, revealing a hidden door in the panels. “If we do our part right and you do yours, we will have three moons together for your Courting Phase.”
Three lunar cycles, or what we called moons. Our physicals took place once a year, on the day we were born. In the monotony of my life—wake, eat, work, eat, sleep—three moons, eighty-seven days, felt endless. With my approval it became impossibly short.
“Come. We will fix you for him.” Rose beckoned me toward tendrils of lavender-scented steam that twirled into the black cage of a room.
“Or try to,” Violet added behind me.
