Each muscle in Aiden’s back stiffened. “I haven’t really been bouncing around.” He straightened and slid to the edge of his seat. “I’m trying to figure some stuff out, but I’ve stayed within the same career, more or less—”
Dr. Scott pushed the holopad across her desk. The transparent screen lit up, blue-tinged white and black text came into focus. “You’ve trained as an anesthesiologist, a surgical core technician, a long-term patient care tech, a short-term patient care tech, in the pharmacology department, the behavioral health department, as well as medi-bot maintenance, cancer research . . . the list goes on and on.” And it did. So much so that the last line was partially blurred by the bottom of the screen.
Instead, Aiden sat back in his chair and propped his ankle on his knee. “Yeah, but is it really hopping if I’m staying in the same field?”
“Yes!” With a jolt of exasperation, Dr. Scott tossed her finely manicured hands in the air. “And of course you’re staying in the same field. Your tests revealed an aptitude for the medical sciences. We know this is where you’ll thrive.”
He sagged again, plopping his elbows against the plastic armrests. “Maybe I don’t want to have a career yet. Is that something your tests took into consideration?”
Dr. Scott swept the holopad back to its place in front of her. “You are almost eighteen. People your age have been in their assigned career for years and are racing to the top of their field, not dillydallying, trying to figure some stuff out.” Dr. Scott adjusted the row of styluses on her desk until they were all parallel with the edge. “Aiden, there’s nothing to figure out. It’s better to follow the path chosen for you, and the Key has made it simple. I have made it simple. And Rehab—”
Aiden lurched forward. “You know I don’t need Rehabilitation.” He scrubbed a hand along the smooth undercut lining his mohawk’s tight curls. “I can’t go. I won’t. Put me in whatever career field you want. I’ll stay with it.”
Dr. Scott’s thick brows lifted, deepening the creases just below her hairline.
“I swear.” And he meant it.
Her nails clicked against the polished white desktop. “You’ve run through too many other careers. I’ll do my best, but chances are you won’t like where you end up.”
“Anything is better than Rehab. I’ve heard stories.” His gaze fell to the dirty toes of his heavy boots. “I won’t survive there.”
The pink light had drained from the office as the sun cleared the buildings, pinning itself high above the city.
Dr. Scott folded her hands across her desk. “This is the last time I can reassign you. I’ll get it sorted and have your new career assignment within the hour. You know where to find the details. It’ll start today. Go home and change, but don’t be late. You want to make a good impression on your new supervisor, so no stopping somewhere that will get you into more trouble.”
Aiden stood and nodded stiffly, the delicate tinkling of his zippers at war with the heavy clomp of his boots as he shuffled toward the door.
“And, Aiden, tread lightly. You don’t want all that dirt you’re tracking in to give someone a heart attack.”
He gingerly lifted each foot, admiring the powder of dirt left behind. “Guess it’s a good thing we’re in the MediCenter.” With a grin, Aiden strolled through the open door, dirt crunching in muted applause with each step.
III
Elodie had never been so relieved to leave for work. As long as she could keep from thinking about her mother and about that disturbing lesson fifteen during her ride on the commuter train, she’d be fine. Once she got to work, she’d be swallowed by her job, and the little girl’s screams would be scrubbed from her memory to make way for more pertinent information.
Focused on the day ahead, Elodie jogged down the wide front stairs of the renovated Craftsman she shared with her parents. She paused at street level and pressed the small, purple button on her Key Corp–issued cuff. A comforting sound hissed, like a match being lit, as a translucent violet bubble expanded from the cuff and encased Elodie. The Violet Shield Personal Protection Pods weren’t mandatory while walking around in Zone Two, but judging from the number of hazy purple spheres bobbing along the pedestrian walkways like grapes, they made everyone, Elodie included, feel a little bit safer.
Clutching her nursing textbook inside the bubble, Elodie turned to the right and walked briskly along the wide sidewalk to the MAX transit center hub that would take her downtown to Zone One, and Westfall’s central MediCenter.
It was late April and the prettiest season in Westfall, the only city in the West Coast sector of New America. The heavy gray clouds that had loomed over the city, promising rain every day from late fall to spring, had finally lost their battle against the sun. Now the glorious yellow orb dried the streets and added color back to the streets. Elodie breathed deeply as she passed a bush heavy with purple flowers, thankful that the latest updates to Personal Pods allowed scents to pass through the Violet Shield.
As always, she’d timed it perfectly. The train’s arrival bell chimed exactly as she rounded the corner to the MAX’s platform. Keeping her distance from those around her, Elodie hung back and allowed the other Zone Two residents to enter before she slipped between the slowly closing doors and into the slick, pristine interior of the MAX car, spotless from its daily sterilization.
The scent of bleach tickled her nose. It was the way life would always smell, a fact Elodie found reassuring. Actually, she found it more than reassuring. Bleach was sterile. Bleach was safe. And, therefore, life was safe.
Elodie bathed in the sharp scent as she settled into one of the few aluminum seats. She’d read somewhere once that prepandemic, the seats on the MAX were all squished up right next to each other. With a grimace, she glanced at the empty space on either side of her.
It’s no wonder Cerberus claimed ninety percent of the population. They were entirely too close to each other—all the time.
She sat back and relaxed. Her attention automatically flicked to the digital clock in the wall of the train. It was exactly 0900. It would take twenty minutes to get to the MediCenter, which meant she would arrive at work ten minutes before her morning shift began.
More importantly, she had a whole twenty minutes all to herself.
She eyed the other passengers before cracking open her textbook just enough so only she could see the pages. An icy wave of adrenaline tickled her spine as she took another glance around the car. None of the other passengers were even looking at a book, much less one as special as hers.
Elodie was breaking rules. In public.
She ran her fingers over the forbidden sheets she’d so carefully pasted to the pages of her textbook, and she could hardly keep still as she began to read.