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Year 2257

Haven North, College District

Calla

I shoulder my purse and clutch my books close to my chest as I leave the small room I’ve lived in for the last four years. The books are mostly for show. If I wasn’t required to carry them around, I’d leave them behind. I know them cover to cover by this point.

“Calla!” a woman’s voice calls out, and I turn to see one of the other students hurrying to catch up. Abigail. The closest thing I have to a best friend.

“Hey, Abigail.” I smile and wait for her to get closer before I continue. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll be late, and you know Dr. Grant will give us demerits if we are.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Abigail mutters, then she gives me a playful nudge. “You won’t have to worry about that for much longer, Ms. Graduate.”

“Don’t jinx it,” I sigh. “I… I’m ready, but there are no guarantees. Clyde has less tenure, but he’s outscored me on the last two exams.”

“He’s a hothead who takes too many risks.” Abigail shakes her head like the idea of Clyde graduating before me is absurd. “He needs another year, at least. You’re next in line. Everyone knows that.”

I wish I had Abigail’s confidence in my future. I’ve spent the last four years learning everything there is to know about nursing and medicine, but graduation is based on merit, not tenure. I’m good at what I do, but Clyde is a superstar. If he’d scored just a little higher on his aptitude test, he would have been assigned to study as a doctor instead of a nurse.

The two of us hurry through the structured streets of Haven North’s College District. The sky is gray, like usual, and there’s a chill in the air. The elders say a morning chill at this time of year is a sign of a good harvest. I hope they’re right. If there’s another food shortage, it’ll be the patients I see every day who suffer most.

“We’ve got time for coffee,” Abigail says, motioning to the gentleman standing behind a cart outside of the Academic Medical Center.

I glance at the closest clock, a large iron dial near the Medical Center, and nod in agreement. We’ve made good time despite leaving a couple of minutes later than we should have, and a cup of coffee will make the first few hours of my day a little smoother.

There are two people ahead of us, so we wait in line. Abigail talks about graduation, which is still at least two years away for her. I listen and nod, glancing at the imposing pristine wall that surrounds the city. You can see it from almost anywhere in Haven North. It’s the only thing that protects us from the horrors outside. The wildlands known as The Tangle .

“Eww, it tastes like sludge again,” Abigail groans as she sips her coffee.

“It’s not the taste that matters,” I sigh, grimacing as my first drink confirms she’s right.

The coffee settles into the pit of my stomach and seems to fester there. That’s not just the taste. It’s a sign my supplements are wearing off. I’ll need to see Dr. Thomas for an adjustment soon, because this cycle is already thinning. It feels like I’m fraying around the edges. Tense, even though I shouldn’t be.

I shrug it off and a few minutes later, I’m tingling from the caffeine while I change into my scrubs. Abigail and I take the stairs to the second floor where we say our goodbyes before I continue on to the fourth floor, where I am assigned.

“It’s Friday,” I say to myself. “If I get through today, I have two days off. If the rumors are true and they announce the next graduate on Monday, this could be my last week at the Academic Medical Center.”

Graduation means my life finally gets to begin. I’ll be assigned to Haven North General Hospital, which means I’ll earn a decent salary. Enough for an apartment in the Middle District. I’ll be able to buy my own food instead of eating rations, even if there’s another food shortage.

It’s not the life I dreamed of, but I’ll have a job. Some people aren’t that lucky. If you don’t score high enough on your aptitude test for an assigned path, then you’re on your own. The only thing you’re guaranteed is half-rations and water they don’t even bother to boil. There are manual labor jobs but most of the Unassigned end up homeless, begging for silver in the Lower District.

I spot my boss, Director Regina, and wave to her as I approach. She’s in her sixties and runs the fourth floor. She’s always been rather kind to me.

“Ah, Nurse Calla, you’re right on time,” Director Regina says. “I’ve got a girl named Fiona in room two. She’s getting her first supplement cycle today, and she’s scared of needles. You’re great with the young ones, so she is your first patient today.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I say respectfully, taking Fiona’s chart and flipping through it.

I review Fiona’s chart as I walk to room two. She’s nineteen and just graduated from high school. She’s getting her first cycle of supplements today because her test results are the same as mine. She’s infertile. That means she’ll never know the luxury life of a Bride, but based on her aptitude scores, she’s got a good future ahead of her. She might even be assigned as a doctor or scientist. She’ll have to get over her fear of needles quickly if that happens.

“Good morning, Fiona!” I say, putting every bit of cheer into my voice I can manage as I walk into the exam room.

“H-hi,” the girl stammers nervously, her eyes darting to the cabinet where we keep the syringes.

“Not your first shot, huh?” I deduce, trying to keep my tone light.

“N-no, ma’am, and they always hurt,” she groans, reaching for her sleeve and tugging it up. “Just do it. I can’t watch.”

Some of my patients have said I have a velvet touch. I’ll need that today, because poor Fiona is trembling. Fear is a strange emotion. I remember it from when I was her age, but it almost seems foreign now. She won’t have to worry about it for much longer, because the supplements I’m about to give her will help ease her mind.

“It’ll take me a moment to prepare your supplements,” I say, opening the cabinet and glancing back at her chart.

Emotion regulators. Libido stabilizers. A little dose of happiness, because everyone needs some these days. That’s the standard regimen and Fiona’s baseline. I carefully measure the dosages, fill the syringe, and approach the trembling girl.

The supplements aren’t perfect. Extreme emotions can’t be suppressed. The kind triggered by grief, or the sharp, instinctual panic that surfaces in a life-or-death situation. Luckily, we don’t have to worry about that in Haven North.

“A swipe and a stick,” I chime, rubbing an alcohol swab on her arm. “Oh, my goodness, is that Leon Hadaway?”

“What? Where? He’s my favorite—ah!” The needle is already in.

“All done,” I say kindly, withdrawing the needle and rubbing the red mark. “Sorry, but a little distraction always helps.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Fiona admits, flashing a meek smile. “Thank you, Nurse Calla.”

“You’ll feel better in no time.” I smile and put an adhesive bandage on her arm. “Would you like a piece of candy, or are you too old for that now?”

“Um, I’d still like a piece of candy,” she says sheepishly.

I smile, nod and hand her a piece from the stash I keep in my pockets for the younger patients. She takes it with excitement in her eyes and pops it in her mouth, letting out a light sigh of satisfaction.

With Fiona taken care of, I make my way to my next patient. Director Regina has several for me today, but I don’t mind. Working makes me happy. Helping people makes me happy. Most things make me happy, honestly, but I know the supplements help with that.

After I finish, it is time to make my rounds. Unfortunately, that means the rest of my day will be spent with patients who will likely never leave the Academic Medical Center. Permanent residents, as we call them. We don’t have much trouble with sickness or disease in Haven North, since we’re quarantined away from everything outside, but age is the one thing nobody escapes.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Pierce,” I say in a gentle voice as I walk into my oldest patient’s room.

“Huh? Oh, it’s the pretty blonde,” he chuckles, then coughs. “I haven’t seen you in a few days. Where have you been?”

“Oh, Mr. Pierce,” I laugh, ignoring his comment. “I saw you yesterday. Don’t you remember? I had to give you a bath.”

“Splish-splash,” he says, his eyes flashing for a moment. “Yes, yes. I remember. That feels like days ago. That was yesterday? They say time starts to lose all meaning toward the end, don’t they?”

I swallow hard and nod. Despite the supplements, sometimes I can’t help feeling a twinge of sadness when I know one of my patients is close to the end. Dr. Thomas says emotions like that are nothing to worry about, as long as you’re aware of them. I always report mine, so the dosage can be adjusted for my next cycle. I’ll have to do that again soon.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Pierce,” I choke out, hurrying to the cabinet where the syringes are kept. My supplement cycle is definitely wearing off. This is more than a little sadness. “But we’re going to make things as comfortable as possible for you.”

“Just load that syringe up and finish me off, dear,” he says, his tone half-joking, half-serious. “My wife is waiting for me on the other side. She’s been waiting way too long.”

The other side. Some patients talk about that, especially the older ones. I’ve never found any comfort in the old religious books in the library. History tells us that religion was responsible for wars and genocide before the Great War—before the sun erupted and devastated the planet. It’s hard to imagine a bunch of stories bringing comfort, but some people believe everything is left up to fate and a mysterious presence.

I believe in what is right in front of me. And what is right in front of me is a dying man who needs his medicine so he can pass with dignity when the time comes.

“A swipe and a stick,” I repeat, just like with Fiona, as I run the alcohol swab across Mr. Pierce’s arm.

“Nothing funny in that shot, is there, miss?” he asks, glancing over at the needle.

“No, sir. No supplements,” I confirm. “Just something to help you relax and take the edge off the pain you’re feeling right now.”

“Fine,” he concedes, nodding to me.

The supplements aren’t required, except for those who are on an assigned path. The Unassigned in the Lower District don’t get them. Unregulated emotions aren’t dangerous, according to Dr. Thomas, but when you have a job to do, there’s no place for them.

I remember how my emotions made me feel before the medical tests confirmed I was infertile. I’d spend hours daydreaming about becoming a Bride. Living a life of luxury. Having babies that would shape Haven North’s future. Sometimes, those emotions would be so strong I’d start crying, and I didn’t even know why. I’m glad I don’t have to deal with that anymore.

“Is there anything else you need, Mr. Pierce?” I ask gently, watching his eyelids flutter as the medicine courses through his veins.

“Just my wife…” he sighs, then his eyes close completely.

“Maybe you’ll dream about her,” I mutter, feeling a strange twinge in my stomach.

The fact Mr. Pierce is spending his final days here, instead of at Haven North General Hospital, means he was never fertile. Neither was his wife, or she would have been a Bride, and only permitted to marry a Groom. He’s Unassigned, so he married by choice. Some who are infertile still choose to marry, but those unions seem like a waste of time to me.

After I finish my rounds, I’m dead on my feet. The only thing I want to do is go home, eat my rations, and go to bed. I can sleep late the next two days. I wouldn’t trade that luxury for anything.

I walk into the changing room, open my locker, and start removing my scrubs.

“There you are!” Abigail says as she walks in. “I went to the fourth floor looking for you because you usually work late.”

“Not today,” I sigh. “I’m tired.”

“Not too tired, I hope,” Abigail chimes. “I heard that some of the nurses are meeting for drinks at the Angry Sparrow. We should stop by.”

“I don’t know.” I shake my head and sigh again. “I really need some rest.”

“Some doctors might be there. Maybe even a director or two.” Abigail gives me a playful nudge. “You wouldn’t want to miss out on your last chance to impress them before they choose the next graduate, right?”

“What am I going to impress them with?” I scoff. “My ability to finish an entire glass of Green Syrup without barfing?”

“Clyde can finish two,” Abigail says. “And you know he’ll be there.”

“Even more reason for me to go straight home,” I mutter.

“No, you need to put in an appearance,” Abigail says confidently. “Otherwise, you’ll regret it if Clyde does something heroic tonight and jumps ahead of you.”

Abigail is right. The chances of Clyde getting chosen over me are better than I’d like to admit. I’ve seen superstars jump ahead a few times over the years. I doubt Clyde will do anything heroic that impresses the doctors and directors who show up, but he’ll get to schmooze them. I need to be present to remind them that I’ve put in a lot of hard work to get where I am. I won’t remind them directly, of course, but if I’m there, I won’t be easily forgotten once the Green Syrup gets poured.

It’s dark when we get outside. The moon casts an eerie glow, even on the pristine streets of the College District. The wall shimmers a little at night. In school, they said it was because the metals used to build it were kissed by the sun during the solar flare that devastated our planet.