Between Two Worlds
Fifty\Fifty

We eat our warm cereal meal, tidy our cooking space in unity, and then proceed to exit through the main entrance. The moment has arrived to convene at the Genetix Lab's forefront. Halting a few hundred feet from our abode, I pivot for a final glimpse, on the off chance it's needed. Our dwelling is unremarkable, decidedly more humble and compact than others lining our road. To deem them residences might be generous; I regard them as mere hovels. Externally, uniformity reigns with identical stonework and matching roofs of straw. Once, our rooftop was commendable, but a fiery tempest ignited by lightning left it charred, now scarcely offering shelter from the rain. Each home comprises two sleeping quarters, a solitary washroom, and a shared space combining culinary and dining areas. The sole distinction of our home from the rest lies in the dimensions of these chambers.

Come on, sport," Wolfe urges, his voice carrying a hint of impatience. "We need to move."

"I'm aware," I respond, taking slow steps towards him. "I just... I wanted to soak in the view of our home one final time."

"Don't harbor such thoughts," he advises, though his tone betrays his skepticism. "Stay optimistic. You'll be back before you know it, tonight even."

His assurance sounds hollow, and it does little to quell the unease that's settled in my chest.

"And what if today is our end?" I pose the question as we traverse the creaky wooden bridge, my gaze drawn to the murky waters below. I try to envision a past where these waters were vibrant and teeming with life.

Wolfe falls silent, contemplating, before he finally speaks. "Then that's our fate. We aren't the masters of our own mortality. But if you're seeking comfort, consider this—our forebears put their faith in something greater, a deity of sorts. Perhaps it's worth reaching out, see if you're granted clemency."

"I'm not convinced there's any sort of higher power," I admit.

"It might be time to entertain the possibility," he suggests.

Our journey continues in hushed tones until we approach the bustling assembly before the Genetix Lab. We join the queue, anticipating our passage through the Identity Scanners. These towering structures bear a resemblance to doorways; one steps through and affixes a thumb to the diminutive screen beyond. A beep signals completion, and we merge with the multitude, awaiting the allotment. In bygone days, selection was a matter of paper and ink, but defiance by those bearing the X led to a shift towards impersonal button presses. Wolfe navigates the scanner with ease, and I shadow him closely, threading through the throng.

As the last few stragglers hurriedly make their way into the designated area, the air buzzes with the sudden launch of drones. Their sleek forms cut through the sky, embarking on their grim task with mechanical precision. These drones, equipped with advanced thermal imaging, leave no stone unturned, no shadow unchecked. The tales of the early days of the lottery still circulate among us; desperate souls attempting to evade the inevitable, only to be ferreted out by these unyielding machines. Declared "winners" in a morbid twist of fate, they were herded into the laboratory alongside the others. It's a chilling reminder that hiding is not an option.

The low hum of the drones' return signals the impending commencement of the lotto. I cast a glance over the gathering crowd, estimating close to a hundred souls bracing for their fate. Familiar faces stand out amidst the sea of anticipation: the girl from two doors down, her eyes wide with quiet terror; the boy whose encounter with feral beasts has left him with a permanent reminder of his vulnerability. Moments later, the whirring crescendo returns, heralding the drones' completion of their search.

It's almost time. The air is thick with tension, each of us silently contemplating our odds in this cruel game of chance.

Moments later, the air is pierced by a robotic timbre, "Individuals aged twenty-one, advance."

I freeze, my heart pounding, as my gaze locks onto the Ghemin sentinel clad in his iron armor. The suit is an unyielding fortress of metal, save for the thick, amber-hued visor that shields its face. Within that steel carapace, the heat must be oppressive, more so under the summer sun, yet they never shed their metallic skin. The true appearance of the Ghemin remains shrouded in mystery; their patrols and vigils at the Genetix Lab always conducted behind that impenetrable barrier. Their form mirrors ours - a singular head, bipedal stance, dual arms - but their cadence is peculiar. Whether that's an artifact of their armor or their natural tone remains unknown.

"That's your cue, Rain," Wolfe murmurs, his nudge jolting me from my stupor.

Inhaling deeply, I navigate through the throng with deliberate steps. This year, our numbers are scant—merely five. We align ourselves, and sequentially, we engage the crimson switch. Predecessors mostly receive the affirmative green glow, signaling their return home. Yet, the lass preceding me is met with a grim black X, relegated to the periphery. Abruptly, my moment arrives; tremors claim my hand as it extends towards destiny's device. With bated breath and a downward gaze, I confront my fate on the display—a stark black X. Exhaling, desolation sinks within as my heart plummets.

I remain motionless, tears streaming down my cheeks as I gaze blankly at the display until Ghemin soldiers grasp my arm, guiding me aside. Wolfe sacrificed his entire existence for my sake, all in vain. He had the chance to wed Crystal, to father children, to lead a joyous life. Yet, he chose to stay by his little sister's side. How crestfallen he must feel now. With me gone, perhaps he can seek a partner, start a family.

I'm engulfed in numbness, overhearing the relentless calling of each age group until they reach Wolfe's. Wolfe, along with nine others, advances to form a queue. Some before him receive an X and join our line. Then it's his turn; he presses the button and approaches me. I can't bring myself to meet his gaze as he halts beside me. Despair engulfs me once more. Not Wolfe as well! It's unjust! At twenty-one, I'm too young for death! And Wolfe... he never truly lived, all because of me.

He stands beside me, his presence a silent pillar of strength amidst the chaos. "I'll stay with you as long as I can," he finally murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

I tilt my head to meet his gaze. "What do you mean? They will probably separate us the moment we walk through those doors," I reply, a tremor of fear lacing my words.

It seems fate has dealt yet another harsh blow to our family. The remnants of our kin are being herded towards an inevitable end. Tears well up in my eyes once more, and I embrace him fiercely. I'm aware of his aversion to physical affection, but in this moment, it doesn't matter. We are on the precipice of oblivion, and I yearn for just a sliver of comfort to cling to before we plunge into the abyss.

As each age group is called, I try to tally the numbers of us being led to our demise - it appears to be around fifty souls. The officer who had orchestrated the age divisions sends the others away. A cadre of soldiers escorts us through the gaping maw of the gates, directing us towards the Genetix Lab.

Casting a glance over my shoulder, I witness the palpable relief etched on the faces of those spared from selection. They are reuniting with friends and family, their embraces tight with newfound appreciation. Tears are shed for those taken, for lives abruptly severed. Yet, there will be no one to lament for my brother and me.

Resigned, I face forward once again and reach for Wolfe's hand. To my astonishment, he doesn't recoil; instead, his fingers entwine with mine, offering a fleeting squeeze of solace before he releases his grip. We step through the threshold of the Genetix Lab, crossing into a future that has been prematurely written off.