The First Day (1)

On the day of, I'm woken by a knock I assume to be from Davis. I'm sure he wanted me to be ready by the time he got here so now is the perfect opportunity to start getting dressed. With my shirt and pants on but trousers absent a louder knock draws my attention. I take my shirt off and head to the door.

"Hey Martin, what's up?"

"Get dressed, Abel."

The door is shut in my face. After getting dressed at a reasonable pace I return myself to it.

"Alright, I'm dressed."

"Good, let's go."

"What about my stuff?"

"I knew you wouldn't pack, so I've organized for someone else to do it; they'll bring it over later today."

He says it like his prediction is something to be proud of. In truth, it shouldn’t have been too hard to foresee. After all, I've done it at every other school I've left since none of them actually planned for it.

I was surprised to learn that Davis personally is driving me to this new school; this is also a first.

His car is more impressive looking than I assumed a principal's salary would allow, enough to make me wonder what he could be doing on the side. It's one of those cars, a little longer than it needs to be, black paint job, shiny finish, like some kind of diet sports car. A bit like Davis himself, all the flash of a real individual with none of the flavour. It's not just the outside that has the works, the seats are leather too. The arrogance of this man, he actually expects people to get in this thing.

As I take a seat, it seems like silence is gearing up to be the soup of the day. Not that I'm surprised; we've never liked talking to each other much. Memories we could reminisce on aren’t plentiful, fond or otherwise; I've been to 7 schools in the last 3 years, each one resulting in a quicker dismissal than the last.

It makes me wonder: Have they sent me down a descending list of principals with the shortest fuse or have I just gotten that good at pissing people off?

"Martin, do I frustrate you?"

No response. He tries to make a point of ignoring me when I use his first name, as do most authority figures. That's something I picked up on in school 5; I guess I’m honing my craft after all.

Driving through the streets, we begin getting into unfamiliar territory closer to the city's centre; the infamous restricted zone in the middle of City 48’s two districts. I call it infamous because city law dictates that nothing’s allowed to be built within a kilometre of the shared zone's border; all that remains are buildings that predate the city's closing. It's instantly noticeable when you enter that stretch of the city; the drop in the height and density of the structures is a dead giveaway.

"There’s a school all the way out here?"

"Why do you think you’ve never heard of it? Few people are aware of its existence."

We drive, we drive, and we drive a bit further. All that I can see in the rear view mirror now are the tallest of the decrepit buildings in the city centre.

This place is remote, which I suppose is impressive for a city district. As we keep driving, a black car with tinted windows zips by us and piques my interest. Cars are a pretty rare sight out here, after all; with very few exceptions, this might as well be a pedestrian city. The only time City 48’s roads are busy is when the populace gets bussed to the common zone every Friday evening and when they’re bussed back the following Monday morning.

…I can’t help but wonder who's in that car.

I've heard rumours of the black sedans with tinted windows that roam the city streets before, but I'd never seen one myself. In this city, you learn to take even the widespread rumours with a grain of salt, but it seems this one was real. Better add it to my limitless list of reasons not to trust the people who run this prison.

As we get further away from the heart of the city, we reach the point where the roads stop being roads and start being trails. With the buildings now fully over the horizon, the ominous visage of the outer wall comes into view. It's a depressing reminder that even if I killed Davis, dumped his body out of the moving car, and went for a joyride, it would only be in circles.

Tick tick tick.

Stones pop up off the unmarked road, hitting the windshield and scratching the hood up.

"Tch. I just got her painted too."

Davis refers to his car as ‘her’. It feels like a sad thing for a man like him to say; one who I know for a fact, even without evidence, has never spoken to a woman in his life. I suppose I'm not much better on that front, I've never spoken to one in person…

...When I get a car, it'll be a big masculine 4-wheel drive. I'll call him Marcus.

"Your car is a bitch, Martin; can't even handle a little off-road action."

"She handles like a beauty! You don't know what you're talking about, punk."

"This is beauty to you? I feel bad for your hypothetical kids; they won’t be pulling the beauty genes from either side."

"For God’s sake, shut up…"

That proves to be our last interaction of the ride as our destination approaches us quickly.

The destination in question looks nothing like a school. Maybe outside the city, they have walls as high as this one does, but somehow I doubt it. I can only just see the top of the main building over them.

"One wall wasn't enough for me?"

Davis looks at the wall I'm gesturing to, bearing an expression that tells me he's not about to engage in the usual back and forth. He clearly doesn’t want to be here.

"I don't think these walls are for keeping people in."

“Then I’m so desirable that you need to protect me from the masses?"

Davis provides no response except a grunt, reinforcing his disdain for the facility. What the hell is this place?

Trying to fluster him, I open the car door before he’s fully finished parking. He must’ve predicted that I’d do that because he doesn't react at all. Either that, or he just didn't notice.

Next time I'll do it when we hit 60.

We approach the entrance of the facility, and immediately two things feel distinctly... off. First, there's no way to see inside the place, the entrance being a towering metal gate that looks like it would take several men much stronger than me to budge. Second, there’s nothing indicating that there's a school beyond those walls, not even a sign.

Now that I think about it, I don't recall seeing any signs directing towards a school or anything school-adjacent on the drive over. From the outside, it looks like the sort of landmark that would create rumours and conspiracies were it not for the fact that it was so remote. I’d never heard anything about a place like this amongst the less desirable types I used to hang around with.

We enter the complex through an inconspicuous metal door to the side of the gate. I can tell it’s the reception, but it's a cold one, more like a security checkpoint than anything else.

Less of a room, more of a hallway. All that's here is a metal detector and an x-ray machine, it's much like the setup seen in the common zone just a lot more cramped and vacant. Two metal doors have been jammed into these concrete walls. The one at the opposite end of the hall must lead to the inside of this facility and the one to my right must lead to a break room of some kind. There is a handwritten sign next to the break room which reads ‘Bill is in business’. The doors don't look like they'd budge easily, this place could probably double as an isolation cell if someone was so inclined.

"Gah, I told them we'd be coming...."

I knock on the break room door. Davis must be aghast at this turn of events, but I don't care about keeping up the act. I'm more intrigued than anything else; I want to see exactly what this place is.

Moments later a tall, well-built man lumbers out of the room. Though he lacks a badge the sign would suggest that this is Bill and I assume he’s what constitutes security here.

"Gonna need you boys' names."

"I'm Martin Davis, principal of the high school in district 7."

"Gonna need his name too,”

He gestures toward me.

"Why?" I ask.

"Gotta check to see if the boss is expecting you before I let you in."

"Fine, I'm Abel. James."

"James and Davis......"

Pondering our names, Bill returns to his room, presumably to check that we are in fact being expected.

This brief wait gives me a chance to think about the fact I'd used my second name. To call it ‘mine’ is a bit of a stretch. It was the second name of my birth parents; the people who gave me up to be part of this experiment. I don't hold it against them; after all, how am I to know their intentions when they agreed to this? They may have just not wanted me or they may have thought that this was the best option for their child; I've been told City 48 has a much higher standard of living than the rest of the country, so I suppose it's plausible.

...I guess poverty is the price of freedom.

At any rate ‘James’ feels weird to say. It’s not me. At least I was given the name Abel; I own it now, I can decide who Abel is. James is an inherited name, not something I can choose. It’s a name that already has some identity attached to it, an identity I'll never be aware of and thus one I cannot live up to or even be a disgrace to. It's not a name as much as it is the thing that helps the powers that be differentiate me from any other Abels in their reports. I might as well be ‘Abel 1’ or ‘Abel A’.

My train of thought is broken by the returning Bill, who now has a set of keys in his hand.

"Come with me."

He steps around the metal detector and goes to open the door.

"Why aren't we going through that?"

"It's just for show, it don't work."

After unlocking the door, but before opening it, the security guard turns toward Davis.

"I been told you ain't going in."

"What? Why not?"

You could try to sound a bit less pleased when feigning a genuine protest.

"Boss said so."

Davis fakes a sigh (poorly) as he turns towards me.

"Alright. Abel, someone will bring your stuff around later...... I hope this is the last time I see you."

What a line to leave on.

And he's dead serious too; he scurried out quickly, and I can already hear the sound of his engine starting up. It'd be nice if it exploded on startup; it’d grant his wish, after all.

"You going or what?"

Bill stands there with the door open, waiting for me to enter the unknown school beyond.