TYOU10 Short Story

1

The road changed from a rudimentary asphalt that would crumble at the weight of a car to a much more refined pavement; accented with bright yellow lines that divided the road even more than the material substance just swapped moments ago.  The legitimacy regarding the new school year, mainly the new program that he woke up especially early for, was just starting to crawl into the frame of Leon’s mind as soon as the road magically switched under his feet. This would lead to a new overall hum the vehicle would create; a nice, linear, high frequency, almost like a whistle to a new tune as one gets accustomed to their new surroundings.  Once he managed to visibly view the guard hut standing around one hundred yards in front of him, only being divided via antsy automobiles yearning every inch of the narrow queue, that’s when the initial anticipation evolved into a nervous squelch that scrunched up the wiring of his intestines even more as the car proceeded to slow down.

Pulling up closer and closer, maybe a staggering eighteen inches at the very best, made Leon finally recognize the portion of this program that he had blindly denied ever since the first invitation. This wasn’t some one-off program.  This was something that had funding put into it.  Something that needed grand amounts of deliberation to filter and find out who was best fit for joining.  Something that Leon would not have even necessarily thought himself fit, or even worthy of joining. Yet here he was making his presence known just beyond the familiar, but relatively unique guard hut that strangled the lines between the outside jungle and the facility. It was accompanied by a thorough hugging of barb-wired fencing on each side of the two-way checkpoint entrance. Around twelve federal officers were seen adjusting their vision vicariously from left to right, resembling that of a lifeguard paid overtime, overcasting themselves onto a pool on a hot, packed summer day.  It was almost as if the unbeknownst security guard in the diminutive shack was the final sacrifice in some wretched ritual, as Leon peeked through the passenger side window to uncover the unison in the positioning the officers inherited; creating an awkward revolution that also made Leon scared he was next.  Leon scoffed at the idea.  

But he didn’t scoff because the idea of the guards sacrificing him was relatively funny, although all these serious men immediately switching their attention to do such an egregious action could be argued humorous.  It was more like a defense mechanism.   It was a comment his mind cultivated to make a desperate attempt to reverse the initial reasoning as to why his stomach felt like it was embodying a volume of half it normally does.  What really made Leon anxious was the huge dome in the back. He wondered what the hell was inside that thing.  The details were rustic in the email he received; making it out as if this new program was just a little extension of his already accustomed to public high school.  Maybe a couple of portables on the south side of his school and call it a day (if the funding was even compassionate enough to do so). 

 But this dome in the back was on a whole other level! Peeking its way above the treeline barely visible via the large cluster of spruce and insulated powerlines, Leon could make out some rather harsh details regarding this dome that looked like it was dying to stretch its obese body upwards to greet the oncoming patrons.  Leon couldn’t take his eyes off of it.  Not only was the dome now beginning to block the sun, offering some comfort as the queue shrunk down in Leon’s favor, but the details now exposed made it an engineering marvel that needed to be studied. 

The hemisphere was made out of some unknown silverish metal.  There didn’t seem to be any disruptions in the fluidity or smoothness of it, however, some impromptu patches could be seen on the exterior.  Imagine sewing patches made of a malleable ore threaded via screws.  Permanent hexagonal scaffolding could be seen on the outside; almost like a turtle's shell with no scutes.  It is thick enough to provide support for the interior and act as the house for piping, wiring, etc. 

Leon’s mother, Lorraine, would be the one driving him to the unfamiliar address.  Lorraine was somewhat confused about how such a large structure could only be half a mile from her son’s public school, yet she never heard about it.  How did word of mouth not reach her about this staggering construction project?  There didn’t seem to be any trace of this structure existing before the invitation that Leon received three weeks ago, so Lorraine’s interpretation of the dome was its sole purpose was for the new program that was rolling out.  She could visibly see the uneasiness radiating off of Leon, possibly due to the mounting pressure of his performance needing to amount to the same value as this whole program.  

“This building looks so new.  Security seems tight as well.  Looks like they don’t want anyone hopping the fence!” Lorraine joked.

“Damn it… I was thinking about hopping the fence if I didn’t like it,”  Leon jokingly expelled. 

 Lorraine’s vision skewed off towards the upper left portion of her windshield, narrowing her vision to the barbwire that topped off the fencing.  

“Yeah, good luck with that,” replied Lorraine. 

A couple of seconds of silence passed as the car inched closer to the hut.  Three cars remain in front of them.

“Have your identification and tickets ready before the gate!”

A high-pitched ring would follow as the announcement hurtled from the guard shack and rattled the frame of his mother’s car.  The queue had shrunk even further now.  Leon was so invested in his seclusive surroundings that he almost forgot why he was there. 

Leon’s attention diverted from the window to his book bag placed on his feet.

 “Get the little bag ready,”  said Leon’s mother.

“Ok,” replied Leon.

Inside the little bag contained a multitude of identification requirements that would legitimize their presence.  A mixture of residential documents, a driver's license, and a government-issued ticket were the main components of the bag; becoming the most valuable object in that car for the ride there.  As they pulled up to the guard hut, Leon proceeded to take out the three requirements needed to enter.  In the email, they were asked to bring three things.  One was proof of residence within the state.  This was to make sure that no other kid from any neighboring school would be admitted into the program.  Certain districts were allowed to go to only certain schools.  If one’s house was too far away from a school, you were unable to attend due to population problems.  Leon’s school was specifically targeted for the program due to its “high test scores and obedient staff.”  Leon knew what the first term meant.  Although Leon’s SAT score was a nimble 1310, his peers around him would manage to garner scores within the high 1500s, making a perfect score not too uncommon.  This would in turn make the school’s overall reputation in the “test scores” rather high.  However, the second term, “obedient staff,” made Leon ponder quite a bit.  

At first, he questioned whether the idea of “obedient staff” was applied to the students.  Leon thought that staff just meant a population at a certain institution; linking the idea that the staff within his school, the students, were great at following directions.  They’re students, whose whole job is to follow directions and not question the legitimacy of their authority.  

Then he realized that “obedient staff” most likely meant the actual faculty that worked there.  Not necessarily the teachers or janitors, but the higher-ups.  Like the guidance counselors, or the principal who dictate what specific conduct can be conducted on the school campus.  And since these higher-ups were obedient, they would essentially listen to whatever the state government would instill.  If the county wanted to integrate metal detectors within every inch of the school, they would oblige.  If the state government wanted to take out certain portions of the curriculum as they would instill communist ideas, the school would oblige.  Why the school would oblige, remains a mystery.  But it was probably for the money that came with the mandates.  

Next up in the bag of holding was the identification for each person in the car.  The email made it very certain that whoever was dropping off the child at the program needed an identification card as well.  Leon had just turned 16, granting him an actual Class E driver’s license, alongside his mother.  As they handed them over to the guards on the inside, he would walk back into the hut, placing each card in some sort of machine off to the side.  Their vision was cut off by the doorway, but they were sure that the license had been put somewhere to be scanned for their legitimacy.  After a short period of time, the guard came back with both licenses and proceeded to finally speak his first words.

“Ticket?”

Leon hesitated for a second.  He was fixated upon the lack of social communication that was present in the guard's meetings.  Leon turned his fixation from the lack of talking to his ticket, which he printed out the night before.  The email came with a pre-generated body of text; most definitely sent out to every student who was accepted into the program, with very minor differences to accustom to the child's name and gender.  However, the email came with an attachment that was unique to every individual.  In it, the ticket would relay the student's name, birthdate, height, eye color, nationality, grade, and interest.  A student’s interest was essential to what you wanted to do later in life.  Many of Leon’s peers opted to put down subjects like mathematics, biology, and theoretical physics.  Not only in the off-chance that it increased your chances of getting into the program, but many of his peers actually wanted to conduct in these types of majors and professions that would be related to these types of subjects.  Leon was not interested in any of those things.  Nor did he feel comfortable contorting his admission to something that he didn’t really have an interest in; just went against his “moral compass” as he scrolled down the dropdown box “undeclared.”

The guard examined the sheet of paper, squinted at the large blob of black ink at the bottom that housed Leon’s face, made out some accented features, and then proceeded to look up at Leon.  

“Thank you.”  The guard said.

He handed the sheet of paper back to Leon’s mother, and then back to Leon.  

“Just follow the road towards the Unit.  You’re in good hands,”  the guard added as the gate changed from a red glowstick to a neutral green hue; raising next to the gate opening outwards.