The State of Things /// Chapter 4 added 7/18

Maturity: Not much so far, but there'll probably be some non-graphic violence and possibly a bit of romance later on, though I'm trying to see if I can write something without romance for once. xD Also some minor swearing (eg. screw, crud, crap, etc.). Anything more than that will be censored.
Fantasy: Kids getting their memories wiped and locked up somewhere secret by the government. At least, I hope that's fantasy... e.0

Prologue
Two years before this narrative begins, fifty planes, each with a different state flag painted proudly on the side, landed in the same airport at the same time. Each plane bore only a pilot, carrying false identification and hiding his face, and a single passenger. The fifty passengers had only three things in common.
First, they were all unconscious, harmlessly drugged and sedated.
Second, not one of them was over the age of fourteen.
And third, they all shared the same fate: to become part of a secret government experiment. But first…
The young woman looked at her superior. “We’ll be taking them in for treatment now?”
The man beside her, his face shrouded and hidden in shadows, nodded. “Before they wake. Even with the wipes, prior knowledge would destroy the experiment. The first are due to wake in twenty-six minutes. Get them to the facilities and fully treated before then.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And don’t allow them to see any human being but you. This experiment depends on their complete and total lack of knowledge. An instant could destroy years’ worth of work.”
“Yes, sir. I know, sir.”
“Good. Dismissed.”
She smoothed out her long black skirt and went to meet her new guinea pigs for the first time.

Chapter 1
Maine leaned over the sink, taking several deep breaths. His fingers curled tightly around the cool porcelain, just for something to hold on to. He’d had the dream again the previous night. Not just any dream, the dream. The one he’d been having ever since he could remember. There were no images in his dream; it was just voices. He’d heard them so many times that he couldn’t tell if the reason they were familiar was because he knew the people speaking, or just because he’d listened to them talk at least twice a month for the last two years. They always said the same things, but the voices were so distant, so muffled, that he still couldn’t make out what they were saying.
It always ended with an exploding pain in his head.
He peered up through his long black bangs at his reflection in the small mirror in front of him. His face was stark white, only made paler by the contrast to his dark hair. His brown eyes were dull, ringed by purple shadows. His gray t-shirt, always a size too big, hung limply from his narrow shoulders. Held up by a belt tightened as far as it would go, his dark jeans stopped midway down his calves, and yet his waistband still threatened to slip past his thighs. Tall and exceptionally skinny, the younger kids would always tease him that anything he ate only contributed to height, rather than weight. Several of the more caring older ones had suggested that he start eating more fattening foods, in an attempt to pack on some pounds, but he hadn’t felt the need to take their advice. Sugary things made him sick, so he preferred to eat healthy.
Even now that he was awake, he could still hear the voices murmuring in his ears. Was it just him, or were they getting louder and clearer?
“Shut up,” he mumbled under his breath, and the voices instantly ceased.
“Maaaaaaine!” Arkansas – or Arki, as he was usually called, though he didn’t seem to appreciate the nickname – pounded on the door. “Come onnnnn! You’ve been in there forever! I gotta go really bad!”
Maine dropped his hands back to his sides and mumbled something unintelligible – likely some sort of curse word – under his breath. He ran his fingers through his hair once, brushing it away from his face – though it of course flopped right back the moment he removed his hand – before turning to open the door. He slipped out into the hallway and Arki ran inside, the little seven-year-old slamming the door behind him.
North Dakota, also known as Endee, grinned at Maine. “Seriously, what were you doing in there?”
“What do you think?” Maine replied, with a pointed glance at the bathroom door.
“Bet he was preening,” South Dakota put in with a sly smile. “Got a crush, Mainy? That Cali’s sure good looking, eh? I’m sure I saw you looking the other day.”
“Shut up, Esdee,” Maine mumbled, brushing past his peers and heading down the hall towards the dining room. He scowled inwardly, wishing he didn’t have to share a bathroom. There were ten washrooms on the premises, five for the girls and five for the boys. There were fifty kids, so five to a bathroom. He was sure DC had a private bathroom of her own around somewhere, but he’d never seen it. There were the same number of rooms, though within a room each kid had their own little section. The rooming assignments and the bathroom assignments were different, though. The reason for this was beyond him.
Maine stopped in front of the double doors to the dining room, taking a deep breath before pushing one of the heavy doors inward with his shoulder. He slipped inside quietly, not even receiving a second glance, and carefully let the door swing shut behind him. He didn’t even bother getting a plate, skipping straight to the fruit at the end of the buffet and taking only a single apple. He slid into his seat in the corner, at a table with the other social misfits: Vermont, Washington, Florida, Georgia. Vermont had her book out and was nibbling absently at some type of pastry, rotating it around in her hand with every bite so that she ate it evenly around the edges. She always did that; Maine wasn’t sure why. Washington had an untouched plate of food on the table in front of him, his arms crossed and his gray eyes staring off somewhere in the distance. Florida was busy picking apart a bagel with her fingers, eating it one crumb at a time. Georgia was the only one really eating. The slightly overweight twelve-year-old was digging in with a gusto, her first helping already half demolished.
Florida moved down the bench, closer to Maine, sliding her plate along with her. “You all right?”
Maine grunted affirmation. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You don’t look so good. Did something happen?”
“No,” Maine said shortly, turning his head away slightly. He took a big bite of his apple despite his lack of appetite, trying to avoid more conversation, but Florida simply waited till he had swallowed before continuing.
“Bad dream?” she guessed. Maine’s eyes widened slightly. “You can talk to me, you know. Sometimes it helps to talk about things that’re bothering you.”
Maine’s face hardened. “Why are you even bothering to talk to me?”
“Hey, us tall kids gotta stick together,” the girl joked, playfully punching his shoulder. He flinched unconsciously. Florida’s eyes widened in horror. “Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. I forgot. You okay? I didn’t hurt you, did I?” She seemed to be genuinely concerned, but then, that was Florida for you. She cared about everyone too much, even the people who didn’t want her to, like Maine. It annoyed the heck out of him.
“No,” Maine mumbled in reply, resisting the urge to rub the stump where his arm should have been. “’M fine.” He got to his feet, tossing his half-eaten apple into the trash before leaving the dining hall.
Florida followed him, dumping the rest of her breakfast before dropping off her plate in the dishwasher and running down the hall after him. “Hey,” she called, slowing to a walk as she finally caught up. Maine kept walking, his face hard and his eyes staring straight ahead as if he didn’t hear her.
“Isn’t it your day for the injections?” she puffed, not giving up. “You know what happens when you don’t get it. Mine’s tomorrow.”
“Screw the injections,” Maine replied tightly, stepping into his room and slamming the door behind him.

The State of Things is: Maine is not happy.

Chapter 2
Florida stared at the door that had just slammed shut inches from her nose, shocked. She’d annoyed people, sure, but no one had ever slammed a door on her before. To these kids, slamming a door on someone was one of the worst nonverbal insults possible.
Maybe she just didn’t know when to stop.
She turned away, starting slowly down the hall. A look of concentration was on her face as she thought back on her conversation with Maine. Now that she thought about it, there had been several warning signs… She’d dismissed them, though, passing them off as automatic defenses to get people to leave him alone. He’d just seemed so lonely, though… He always did. Some days more than others.
She went back to her own room, subdued. Virginia and California – or Cali, as she was sometimes called – were already there and busy chatting with the Carolinas, also known as Encee and Essie. None of the other girls even glanced at her as she entered and sat down on her bed.
Why am I here? I don’t belong here.
Florida jumped a little, startled by her thoughts, which seemed to be thinking on their own. But now that she thought about it, why was she here? There had to be more than this… But that single hallway and the rooms attached to it were all she’d ever known. If there was something more out there, was it possible that she’d never seen any of it…? No, couldn’t be. DC and the ‘bots always said it was just the fifty-one of them. Just that one hallway. There was nothing else out there. There was no out there where anything else could be.
It had to be true. If DC was lying about that… how much else had she lied to them about? If she wasn’t telling the truth, everything Florida knew was a lie. Of the fifty-one people that made up her whole world, DC was the only one that seemed to know anything, the oldest by fourteen years, the only one who had a clue.
And yet…
How had they come here? How had they come into being, how was it possible that they had always had shelter and food and anything they needed? Did it all just appear from thin air, or did it come from somewhere else?
This is stupid, Florida thought, shaking her head slightly. Why am I doubting DC? Of course she’s telling the truth. Why wouldn't she?
She glanced up at the clock over the door. “We’d better get going,” she said out loud for the other girls’ benefit, but they simply ignored her, continuing to talk. This is their problem now, Florida thought, getting to her feet and leaving the room.
As she walked down the corridor toward the classroom near the end of the hall, Florida passed by the boys’ rooms. The door to Maine’s room remained firmly closed. She shrugged indifferently – although deep down she was actually quite worried – and continued down the hall. She entered the classroom and took her seat near the back, pulling out her notebook and pencils.
Despite the eleven-year range in their ages, all fifty children were taught the same things at the same time. Florida didn’t quite understand the concept of age, though. Sure, they were different sizes and different maturity levels, but they all only remembered back two years. It just didn’t make sense.
But it wasn’t Florida’s place to judge that. She tapped the eraser of her pencil absently on the tabletop, waiting for class to start.
Maine’s seat remained empty.

Maine didn’t come to any of the morning classes. He wasn’t in the dining hall at lunch. He didn’t come to afternoon classes. By dinner, Florida had pretty much given up on seeing him again that day to offer an apology. She supposed she could always go knock on his door, but she didn’t want to invade his privacy more than she already had.
At the very end of dinner, he returned, looking shaken, and made his way to the usual table in the corner where Florida was sitting, not even stopping to get food.
“Florida, I need to talk to you.”
Florida twisted around to look at him in surprise. “Me?”
“No, I’m talking to the other Florida behind you,” he muttered. “Yes, you.” He spun around on his heel and marched back out of the room. Startled, Florida picked up her half-eaten dinner and threw it out, returning her dishes before following him out into the hall.
“Listen, Maine, I’m sorry about this morning-“
“That’s not what I want to talk to you about.”
“…Oh?”
“I’ve been thinking… There’s something wrong with everything that DC is telling us. We can’t be the only people in existence… there must be something beyond this hallway. DC can’t be telling us everything.”
Florida gaped at him. “I… I was thinking the same thing earlier.”
A flash of surprise showed in his eyes, but he quickly masked it with indifference. “Anyway, I decided to test it. I didn’t go for injections.”
“What?” Florida gasped. “You idiot; you know what happens if you don’t get injections!”
“That’s just the point,” he insisted. “I wanted to try it out. And I’m fine. Nothing happened. DC lied.”
“That’s… that’s not possible…” Florida mumbled, shaking her head. “DC wouldn’t lie to us…”
“Face it, Florida. She did.”
“But…” She swallowed hard. “But why are you telling me? You hate me.”
Maine looked uncomfortable. “Well… You seemed to be the only one that would listen. And I just got this feeling… like I could trust you. With this, at least.”
“You can,” Florida promised.

The State of Things is: The seed of doubt is planted.

Chapter 3
After morning classes the next day, Florida split off from the rest of the kids, who were streaming towards the dining room for lunch, and started down the hall in the opposite direction, towards the clinic located at the very end of the hall. She sensed someone’s eyes on her back and twisted around to lock eyes with Maine. He didn’t look happy as he moved towards her.
“I thought I told you. The injections are useless.”
Florida shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t want to take the risk. Besides, we’ve had them once a month for the last two years and nothing’s happened yet. Couldn’t hurt.”
The corner of his mouth twisted into a small half frown. “Well… whatever. None of my business. It’s your decision.” He turned and hurried after the rest of the kids.
Florida gazed uncertainly after him for a moment, hesitating, then shook her head and turned back towards the clinic.

Florida stood up shakily, wiping her mouth with a paper towel. Her face was chalk white, with a distinct greenish tinge. Gagging on the taste of bile, she filled a cup with water and took a gulp, swishing it around in her mouth before spitting it out in the sink. She flushed the remains of her last several meals down the toilet and reached for the door handle, the metal cold against her feverish skin. She opened the bathroom door, and of course who should be out there but Maine.
The boy was leaning casually against the wall, his eyebrows raising at her expression.
“Would it be cruel to say ‘I told you so’?”
“Shut up, Maine,” Florida mumbled, rubbing her temples. “So not in the mood.”
“I told you so,” he said anyway, smiling a little. “Maybe next time you’ll believe me.”
There’s no proof it was the injection at all, she opened her mouth to retort, but stopped short as she realized that she had just witnessed Maine actually smiling. That may never happen again. Despite her condition, Florida found it made her unexpectedly cheerful to see Maine with something to smile about.
She’d always wondered why he never smiled and almost never talked. Nothing horrible had ever happened to any of them, nothing to make them brood and mope… And yet some of the kids were more subdued than others. Maine was a prime example of this. Washington, too. Both boys were silent and sad 24/7. Florida guessed the best word to describe the two was depressed, though as far as she knew neither of them really had anything to be depressed about… Maine might be upset about his missing arm, she reasoned, but that didn’t make much sense either. After all, he didn’t remember losing it… And he hadn’t had it in the two years that the group of children had known each other. Which was further proof that there was something on the outside.
Wasn’t it?
Either way, Florida’s head was pounding like someone was bashing it against the wall, and her emptied stomach churned as if she were about to puke her guts up. She would much rather miss that experience…
“I’m going to bed,” she mumbled, snapping back to reality. She slipped into her empty room and crawled under the covers, curling up in the fetal position. She lay there, her feverish skin flaming against the heavy fabric of her comforter, and yet she was still shivering violently. Shutting her eyes tightly, she slipped effortlessly into a deep, deep sleep.

The next morning, no sign of Florida’s sickness remained. She got up and got ready for the day as normal, leaving for breakfast with the rest of the other girls in her room.
She was oddly hungry and so took extra food as she loaded her tray and went to sit at her usual table.
“Good morning!” she announced cheerfully. “Who’s ready for another Monday?”
Georgia looked at her like she was crazy. Vermont didn’t look up from her book as she said, “It’s Wednesday.”
“Huh?” Florida blinked in surprise, her brow furrowing slightly in concentration as she tried to think back on the days. No, it was definitely Monday.
“Wednesday,” Maine repeated slowly, as if to someone who was slow on the uptake. “As in, the day after Tuesday.”
“But yesterday was Sunday…”
“I think all that puking yesterday addled your brain,” Georgia said, rolling her eyes.
“…Puking? What are you talking about?”
“Idiot,” she heard Maine mutter under his breath as he returned his attention to his breakfast.
“No, seriously. What puking? I haven’t been sick for months.”
“You have issues, Florida,” Washington put in helpfully. Well, at least he still knew how to talk. She hadn’t heard his voice in at least two weeks.
“I honestly have no idea what you’re talking about.” She looked between the four of them – though Vermont didn’t seem to be paying much attention - her eyes narrowing suspiciously. “Hang on. You guys aren’t messing with me, are you? I swear, if you’re pulling a prank on me-”
“I thought you were the one who was trying to mess with us.” Georgia sounded almost as confused as Florida felt.
“No! Would I do that?”
“Yes,” Vermont put in absently.
“Shut up.”

“I don’t get it,” Florida mumbled, looking down at the schoolwork with her handwriting on it and Tuesday’s date, but that she had no memory of even receiving, let alone doing. “How could I just forget two whole days?”
Maine shrugged. “No idea. But, um, could you do me a favor?” He sounded uncomfortable.
Florida cast him a sidelong glance. “Depends. What is it?”
“Don’t go for injections next month,” he mumbled. “Just… don’t.”
She gaped at him. “What, are you trying to kill me or something?”
“No,” Maine replied calmly, gazing levelly back at her. “I just have this theory… Nothing will happen, I swear.
“Well, I’ll… I’ll think about it.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. You still have a month. Just consider it.”
And with that, he turned and strode away.

The State of Things is: Something’s wrong with Florida.

Chapter 4
The next few weeks seemed to tick by very slowly for Maine. Slower than usual, even. With each passing day, his suspicions grew. He couldn’t believe he’d never even considered any of this before. It got to be so much that he actually wrote it all down in a list. Anyone who knew Maine would tell you that he was extremely disorganized, and he did not make lists. Period.
Nonetheless, he made one, and he was pretty sure that he’d covered just about everything.

*Where’s the food coming from?
*Who is DC?
*Are there any more people out there or is it all just us?
*Did there used to be people, and they all died?
*Is anything they’re teaching us true?
*If it’s not, is everything we know a lie?
*Why can’t we remember anything beyond two years ago? DC says we’re all older than two years, so we should be able to remember past that, right?
*Or is all that a lie too?
*What happened to Florida? Was it the injections?
*What are the injections?
*Who are we???????

Maine looked over the scrawled questions, then crumpled up the paper and stuffed it into his pillowcase. Since Florida’s little time lapse, she had refused to listen to his theories, dismissing them as crazy. He had tried to get some of the others on his side, but they all did the same. It didn’t make sense. There must have been something . . . Something to stop them from wondering, from thinking about any of this . . . It was all so obvious; how could none of them see it? How had he not seen it before this? Even now, sometimes he had trouble thinking about it . . . He struck the edge of his mattress with his clenched fist in frustration. Sometimes it was like he was fighting for control of his own brain . . .
That’s it! He broke free of his mental confines as realization hit him. The injections. It had to be the injections. They did something to their minds. Like, brainwashing or something. So that no one ever thought about anything but what they were told to. And so that they kept taking the injections, they were told that without them they’d die . . . But Maine had proved that that was a lie. How much else of what DC told them was also false? What if he . . . What if he stopped everyone from taking their injections?
No, that would never work. They were all brainwashed into thinking that the injections were what was keeping them alive. He had to find a way to prove to all of them that the shots were bad. There was only one thing he could think of, only one course of action he could take . . .
He’d have to find a way into the clinic and destroy the supply of injections.

Maine knew this would require careful planning. If he was found out . . . Well, he wasn’t sure what would happen, but it probably wouldn’t be pretty. He would have to think it out, to come up with backup plans, make it completely foolproof.
Yeah, right.
He stood and left the room, walking resolutely down the hall. As he passed the cafeteria, he heard the usual chatter and laughter of lunchtime, which not only meant food, but also a break between morning and afternoon classes to give the ‘bots time to recharge. He passed the classroom, empty except for the shiny silver machines that served as their teachers most of the time. DC obviously considered teaching anything but the most important stuff beneath her.
He continued down the corridor until he reached the door of the clinic. For some reason, it was locked 24/7, and you had to either be DC or have the next injections appointment to get in. The door was made of solid steel and three inches thick, with a heavy duty lock and an automatic deadbolt.
This was going to be a problem.
Maybe I should have thought ahead, Maine mused silently, gazing at the pretty much impenetrable setup. But just then, light footsteps echoed up the hall behind him, and he turned to see Vermont approaching, a book under her arm, and chewing on a lock of her mousy brown hair. She looked at him in surprise.
“Maine? What are you doing here? I thought I was scheduled for injections now.”
“Oh . . . I . . . um . . .” His stammer as he struggled for an excuse ceased as he saw her eyes dart around for a second before she lifted a finger to her lips. She gestured for him to watch, then pressed her book into his single hand and slipped inside the clinic, the door to which had just swung open for her. Completely bewildered, Maine repositioned himself slightly so he could watch through the still slightly open door.
Vermont seated herself calmly on the little chair, watching evenly as the ‘bot bearing the hypo rolled towards her. Its mechanical arm reached out towards her, the small syringe clasped in its metal claw-like hand thing. When the needle was only inches away from her bared arm, her hand shot out and grabbed it, her other hand deftly yanking off a cover Maine had never noticed before on the ‘bot’s chest. She nimbly pressed a few buttons and replaced the cover. She released the ‘bot’s arm and it pressed the plunger on the syringe, emptying its contents harmlessly onto the floor, where it was almost instantly absorbed by the linoleum. The ‘bot’s arm dropped to its side and it turned away, rolling back to the corner where it would presumably recharge until the next patient. A self-satisfied smirk on her face, Vermont hopped to her feet and left the clinic, reclaiming her book from a stunned Maine before skipping back down the corridor as if nothing had happened at all.

The State of Things is: Huh?

This is great Ratty! I can't wait to see where you go with it! Post more soon!

Thanks, Mandy. I'll try. xD

This is really cool, and so unique! I can't wait to read more. (:

Thanks, Elizabeth.

"anything he ate only contributed to height, rather than weight"

Oh my gosh. o_O I think I'm psychic, Ratty, because that's exactly the same idea I was proposing at dinner last night! I was going on and on about the more you ate, the taller you got, and the less you ate the shorter you got.

I shouldn't be talking about that, though, I should be talking about what an incredible story this is. You need to keep writing, please! I love it! :3

It's a bit fast paced, but I'm really enjoying it!
(I have a weakness for for things like these....)

Haha, wow. xD Maybe that's why I'm so short... Dx

Anyway, thanks. I finished the next chapter last night but I don't have time to post it now. xP

Yeahh, all my stories end up going really fast. xD I can't write boring stuff or I get... well, bored.

Post it soon! Post it soon! Please!

Posted.

Loved the new chapter. ^_^ I was just about to point something out but then realized I was reading it wrong. xD So, anyways.... can't wait to see what happens next!

Thanks. What did you think was wrong?

DC obviously considered teaching anything but the most important stuff beneath her.

For some reason, I didn't quite get it at first. :\ But, that was just me. I understood it after reading it another time.

Ah. Okay.

That chapter was win! Haha, I think I like Vermont.

Great chapter! I like the comment at the end of the chapters 'the state of things..." Anyways, I love how unique the idea is. Very well done

So do I. xD She pwns.

Thanks.