DAY ONE:
The notice arrived with the chimes at precisely 07:00.
It appeared on the mega-screen on the common lawn, rendered in the same neutral font as advisories and maintenance schedules. Most people looked up and then quickly down, as if afraid noticing meant accepting.
CITIZENS MAY NOW APPLY FOR PERMISSION TO LEAVE
Beneath it, in smaller text:
REQUEST APPLICATIONS AVAILABLE FOR FIVES THROUGH TENS ONLY.
Sarai read it twice, then sat down with her breakfast.
Around her, the morning continued. People lined up at kiosks while others migrated toward the transportation tubes to wait for the trains. The lawn was full in a way she hadn’t seen in previous seasons. Not crowded enough to be called crowded, but dense—benches and chairs closer together, bodies closer together, voices more frequent. The air carried its usual faint sterility, as something that has been washed too many times.
She had been born inside the Boundary. Everyone she knew had. Beneath the shimmering white energy dome the entirety of Sarai’s world lay in composed gardens and orchards, housing units, and recreational common areas. The perimeter walls that rose to meet the dome were painted with faux mountains and clouds.
The Boundary kept them safe.
She had grown up listening to the stories about Before. Not yet myths—but too far removed from the original tellers to be wholly true. The world Before had been unstable. Violent. Unpredictable. Man had poisoned the very environment they and other creatures depended on. The Boundary was built to protect a select few from the consequences. Generations carried on the legacy of human intelligence, culture, and industriousness, encapsulated beneath an impervious shield. They lived, loved, procreated, died, and most importantly, sustained and survived until the day the world had healed itself and was ready for them to inherit again.
Everyone had a purpose. Everyone had a role. Everyone was responsible for the sustainment of the system.
Everyone understood this. Almost everyone accepted it.
Sarai stood, dropped her breakfast into the recycle, and walked to the terminal bank near the mega screen. There was a queue of people waiting to use the terminals. Most would be applying for new work assignments or upgrades in housing. Some would be reserving pavilions by the lake or paddle boats for the river. A few would be seeking authorization for pairing and procreation.
And a few, a very few would be applying for permission to leave.
She stood in line and waited as the chimes signaled 08:00. She should have already been at work. But the poultry units had finished their quotas for the quarter, so she would not be missed too much.
The man and the woman in front of her finished at the terminal and walked away together, hand in hand, smiling with optimism. Sarai’s eyes followed them and the easy way their limbs moved. She turned to the screen and laid her hand flat on the scanner. The screen blinked to life and brought up her data. Once she had confirmed the information she responded to the prompt with a few keystrokes.
PERMISSION TO LEAVE
No alarms or flashing warnings. The monitor simply acknowledged her request and flickered to another screen. Sarai confirmed that she was making the correct application. She confirmed she understood what it meant. Two more confirmations brought her to the questionnaire page and long list of multiple choice questions scrolled before her.
There were the basics: life and work satisfaction. Sleep quality and appetite. Emotional stability and social integration. It asked if she felt dissatisfied with routine. How frequently she copulated with others in her grade. How often did she experience intrusive thoughts of departure.
She hesitated at that one, then selected the closest option to truth.
Frequently.
The questions continued. Pages of them. The lines at the other terminals thinned and ended. The chimes rang 09:00.
In the end, only one prompt appeared without multiple choice.
Why do you wish to leave?
The cursor blinked beneath it.
She stared at the words like a language she didn’t understand.
Because… she started.
She deleted it.
So that I can…
She deleted that too.
I believe it is time…
No. That’s what you say when you don’t know what to say. She rolled her shoulders and stared up at the shimmering sky.
Because I can’t breathe.
Too figurative. Could set off an alarm.
Her eyes dropped to the false horizon.
Sarai placed her fingers on the keys.
I want to see something real.
She clicked the finish tab and the screen showed a box saying her application had been successfully submitted. She remained staring at the screen for a moment—no elation, no regret. The terminals around her were abandoned and the common lawn was mostly empty except for some Nines and Tens. Sarai walked to the transportation tube and waited for the Blue train that would take her to the Farm Center. When it arrived she did not get aboard. She waited for the Green train which took her to the lake, where she took off her shoes and work clothes, dropped them on the beach and went into the water. She swam and kicked and floated on her back with her ears just below the surface and her hair swirling around her head, looking up at the featureless sky.