It was her chance to escape. Her one and only chance.
Ember stood on the far side of the room, its vastness exacerbated by the high ceiling. Thirty feet away, four panel members faced her from behind their lengthy table.
Whilst waiting outside, she’d convinced herself she’d look each of them in the eyes. Instead, her gaze fixated on the solitary, empty, plastic chair that was strategically placed ten feet away from them.
It had been less than ten minutes since the last applicant had been dragged out of there yelling and thrashing. Two security guards had come bounding up the polished corridor to join the two already forcing him out. Eventually they’d taken an arm and a leg each as his curses had continued to ricochet around the clinical, vacuous space, all the way to the exit.
‘You have no right to judge me!’ he’d yelled. ‘This system is beyond contempt! It’s the children that suffer. My children who are suffering. You’re condemning them. You’re condemning them all!’
To her shame, she’d lowered her head. The two other people who’d also been sat waiting for their turn outside had done exactly the same. There was no fighting the system. There was no escaping the societal prison that bound those who were bottom of the ladder, except by doing exactly what she was doing then: try to get out of Lowtown and start a better life across the border in Midtown.
‘Our next applicant is Ember Challice,’ one of the male panellists announced. Artificial light glinted off the delicate, silver-rimmed glasses that perched on the edge of his nose as he lowered his head to examine the paperwork neatly piled in front of him, paperwork he casually flicked through with his chubby fingers.
The other three panellists – two women and another man – remained silent, as Ember shifted under the weight of their unwavering scrutiny.
‘Take a seat, Ms Challice,’ the spectacled man said, indicating the empty chair without yet granting her the courtesy of eye contact.
Ember sat down, interlaced her fingers and rested her clasped hands in her lap. She kept her feet together and firmly on the floor, her thighs straining under the pressure of her attempt to stop them from trembling.
‘Thirty-one years of age,’ the spectacled man continued. ‘Single. No dependants. No family. She has secured sufficient finances to fund her rent for basic premises in Midtown for the minimum requirement of the twelve-month trial period. This has been acquired through savings from her full-time work as a waitress and deputy manager at a café in Lowtown, wherein she has performed consistently for the past fifteen years. Five sick days have been registered showing good overall health.
‘She will be actively seeking work in the service industry on arrival in Midtown but has also secured a provisional place at Midtown College having passed all necessary entry examinations and aptitude tests. In fact, she exceeded all entry examinations and aptitude tests,’ he added, his surprise evident in his tone. ‘She will fund the first year of her studies through the sale of a small apartment she owns in Lowtown, which has been in the family name for a considerable length of time. Beyond those twelve months, she’s planning to maintain part-time employment to continue to fund her studies.
‘Ms Challice passed all three detailed medical examinations as well as the mental health evaluations. There is only one outstanding query, which we will come to shortly.’
Ember’s heart skipped a beat. There was no way of them knowing. No way of anyone knowing her secret – and certainly not from any kind of medical examination. Unless there was something she didn’t know.
‘She has no criminal record or any marks against her regarding social disorder. She has no proven links to the third species community – vampire, lycan or any other kind of non-human.’ He flipped through a few more pages. ‘She was brought up by her aunt, the sole sister of her mother Rhona Challice, the latter having died from an accident when Ember was five years old.’
Ember clenched her interlaced hands at the use of the word ‘accident’.
‘Authority records report the accident occurred while Ms Challice senior was trying to prevent her son, Ember’s twin brother, from being snatched from their home,’ he continued. ‘He was never found. Records show her father had absconded before she was born. Her aunt, her last remaining relative, died three years ago. Terminal illness. Ember lived with her and cared for her up until that point.’
Ember remained focused on retaining her composure as they continued to clinically highlight the most personal aspects of her life as if she wasn’t there. But this was the process. This is what had to be done. Any indication of protest or indignation would lead to what she had witnessed less than twenty minutes before.
‘It is her aunt’s apartment, Ms Challice’s current home,’ he continued. ‘Which she’ll be selling to fund the first year of her studies.’
The panellist removed his glasses and placed them neatly on the paperwork in front of him before finally making eye contact. ‘Congratulations on getting this far in the process, Ms Challice. I’m sure you are aware that very few applicants make it to this point.’
She knew it only too well. It had taken her ten years. The first seven years had been about saving up enough money to meet the basic financial entry point. Most failed at that first hurdle.
Stage two had consisted of three years of aptitude tests, personality tests, morality tests, medical examinations, lie-detector tests, detailed explorations into both her work and social ethic and also her family background. If the conspiracy theories were to be believed, passing stage two was fraught with corruption. As such, many had either been rejected or had given up by now; the system was set up to make applicants fail. There was no appeal process.
For the very few who made it through, there was stage three. This stage.
‘I am,’ she said as calmly as she could, despite still balancing on a knife-edge as she awaited the query that could bring all her hopes crashing down around her. She couldn’t fail now. She’d made a promise. The very last promise she’d made her aunt.
‘You’re aware that this meeting constitutes the final stage of the process?’
‘Yes.’
‘And should you pass this final stage, your admittance into Midtown will rest solely on one final medical examination on the day of entry?’
‘Yes.’
He glanced at the other panel members, which was clearly their cue for questions.
‘I hear your plan is to work at The Facility once you qualify,’ one of the women said – a blonde woman with painfully invasive blue eyes.
‘Yes,’ Ember confirmed.
Based in Midtown, The Facility was the primary medical research centre globally. It had led pioneering research into the healing effects of vampire blood – more specifically, the purest of vampire blood, the blood of vampire royalty, or the Higher Order as they were known – on human conditions.
When the third species had outed themselves eighty years before, it had not been to instigate war but a symbiotic relationship: to offer their healing abilities in exchange for blood sharing.
The revelation had prevented an all-out war but, with the potential of tens of thousands of third species being revealed, global action had been taken. To safeguard humankind, society had been restructured and the divisions had begun – both physical and social. Cities, villages and towns no longer existed like they once had. Instead, areas were segregated into locales. Each locale had been sub-divided into four bordered districts expanding outwards from the core like ripples. With it, a new world order had begun.
What had been discovered during the ongoing research since, however, was that whilst Higher Order blood could indeed heal, the effects were temporary. Eight decades later, humans were still seeking a permanent cure in order to free themselves of the relationship that had necessitated their tolerance of the third species at all.
‘You have a particular interest in molecular biology and are hoping to work in the research department focused on finding the permanent cure,’ the woman added.
‘Like many others,’ Ember said, ‘I believe there is a way to bind vampiric blood to human blood, which will grant us the same advantages natural to their genetics. I would love to be a part of the team trying to discover what that bond could be.’
‘For what outcome?’ the second woman asked.
‘I would like to see the self-healing abilities, heightened immunity and prolonged life of the third species being used in a more widespread nature rather than being reserved only for the already fortunate.’
The blonde raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘By fortunate you mean residents of outer districts such as Midtown and Summerton? Those who have earned their place for improved medical care as well as every other privilege? Do you have issue with the Global Council’s system, Ms Challice?’
The system that had promised to be temporary but, instead, had been continually reinforced to benefit the elite. Subsequently, Midtown had increased in affluence like its neigbouring Summerton on the outskirts of the locale, whereas Lowtown – her district – had gradually become nothing more than an extension of Blackthorn: the impoverished core where the vast majority of the third species had been forced to reside.
Those third species were as much victims of the system as the humans who didn’t tick enough social, intellectual and medical boxes to corroborate their worth. Humans like her aunt. Like the rest of her family.
As a gaze laden with challenge and curiosity stared back at her, Ember refused to look anywhere but directly into the blonde woman’s eyes.
‘I fully understand that resources are limited,’ Ember said as part of the learned spiel she had used on more than one occasion during the painstaking process. ‘I fully appreciate that, currently, lines need to be drawn. There’s simply not enough to go around and that means tough decisions need to be made. I am not challenging the system. On the contrary, I am supporting the Global Council’s mission statement that they want to achieve equality one day. I want to be an active part of enabling that to happen.’
The woman’s eyes narrowed pensively.
But nice try, Ember said to herself as silence descended.
‘But we’ve already heard you lost your aunt to a terminal illness,’ the second woman said, recapturing Ember’s attention. ‘Your mental health evaluation has identified this as highly likely to be the primary motivation behind your career choice rather than selfless motivations. This is our one concern, Ms Challice.’
Her heart skipped a beat. Nothing to do with what she was. Nothing to do with her heritage.
‘An innate resentment of the system is inevitable considering your aunt may not have lost her life had she not been a Lowtown resident,’ the woman continued.
And the authorities couldn’t afford to have political unrest amongst the ranks in Midtown. Every resident’s vote counted and that meant every voter needed to be biased to the current system. That was what mattered to them.
What mattered to her was that there was not an iota of remorse from any of them that her aunt could very well still be alive if she hadn’t been born in Lowtown. Could have still been alive if she’d had a way out of the hopeless system that had not only existed but had been reinforced amidst the greed, selfishness and ignorance of those at the top.
Could have at least been spared some of the excruciating pain in those final months.
Her throat knotted but she held back her tears. She scrunched her hands together. ‘I have made no secret of the fact I am aware that my aunt didn’t get the treatment she needed because of her Lowtown residency. But I can choose to respond to that in anger and achieve nothing, or I can use it to fuel my determination to work for the Global Council and make the changes they want, improve the situation for all, and thus leave a more worthwhile legacy in the process. I know which of those would make my aunt proud.’
A lengthier silence descended as all four pairs of eyes scrutinised her.
‘You specified in your application that it was your aunt who had first encouraged you to begin the application process,’ the blonde finally interjected.
‘That’s right.’
‘So you’ve intended to move out of Lowtown for a long time.’
‘For as long as I can remember.’
‘Hence your impeccable record. Your faultless record, some would say.’
‘I have determination, focus and self-discipline. I would like to be able to prove to those who say this system is unfair and corrupt that it is possible to better yourself by having those skills. My success in this process would reinforce that. It would help diminish some of those rumours.’
It had been the response she’d been waiting for that very opportunity to give. She knew as well as they did that they had to let a certain number through. She knew her profile was flawless. She knew they’d be fools not to take a chance on her to fulfil their quota. She was entirely dependent on them not being fools.
In the few minutes that followed, conferring was executed behind shielded mouths.
‘Any further questions?’ the spectacled man finally asked out loud, readdressing the panel.
There was a shake of the head from each of the others.
It was over quicker than she’d anticipated.
Perspiration coated her palms, her breathing was shallow, the tightness in her chest intensifying as they scribbled on the paper in front of them.
The walls expanded and contracted around her. Black vignettes framed her vision as she awaited the decision these four strangers would make about her life from then on. The compulsion to further fight her corner became overwhelming as the spectacled man looked through each ballot paper, but he quickly tidied them into a neat pile.
‘I propose we set a transition date of the twenty-fourth,’ he said. ‘Ten days from now.’
Her heart leapt. The thrum of blood flooded her ears.
He slammed a stamp down on her file.
‘You will arrive here at the Midtown border at six a.m. on the twenty-fourth,’ he said, closing her file. ‘You will need to have all of your basic belongings with you. If you pass the final medical, your residency will be confirmed. During the trial twelve-month period, should you lose your job, your home, your college place, or run out of funds, you will be removed and no re-application will be permitted for a period of five years. Do you understand that?’
She could barely breathe, her throat constricting as she fought back tears of relief. ‘I do.’
She’d done it.
Ten years, and she’d finally done it.
‘Then the sincerest of congratulations, Ms Challice,’ the panellist said, as he removed his spectacles. He didn’t quite manage a smile. ‘We wish you luck with your transition.’
The other man and the second woman nodded, whilst the blonde sent her the sincerest wink of approval.