Unknown Name, Chapter 2!

Glass spires towered high into the dome, their needle like points twinkling in the sunlight. Amongst the blank white and black buildings, masses of people strolled the streets, all heading from one place to another. Hidden in a gloomy alleyway, I watched their expressionless faces turn towards the tallest tower as a bell tolled in the clean, fresh air. Noon hour, I had made it back on time.
Brushing off my pants, I slunk back into the crowds, joining the mass body moving to wherever their errands took them. As I walked down the bright grey sidewalks, I wondered about the young man. Who was he? What was his purpose? Did he actually support the underlying revolution, just threatening to break out? My head buzzed with these thoughts, and I didn’t notice the gentleman ahead of me halt. Faster than you could say purple monkeys, I had fallen on my rump, the man hovering above me with a steady glare. Oh, that would surely leave a bruise tomorrow…
“Where in the worlds do you think you are going, miss?” He scolded, staring at me with eyes that smoldered grey in the shade of his fedora. With a calm, cool tone, I answered,
“Forward, but it appears you have gotten in my way.”
His face was on the verge of obvious anger, yet soon those slate-like eyes cooled off, and he apologized,
“Well, I am terribly sorry. Have a nice day.” And with no other word, carried on with his business. My heart panged, and I could not help but pity him, along with the entirety of our society. Even the tiniest bits of emotion were to be suppressed, and that was the final word. No wonder the suicide rate was skyrocketing these days, much to the governments disapproval.
Pace quickening, I reached the glass doors of a towering white building, pockmarked with clean and clear windows. If it weren’t for the complete sterility of the city, I would call this dwelling beautiful. Taking the ride in the glass elevator to floor 178, another passenger and I stood in silence. Her caramel blonde hair hung in pin straight curtains about her face, blank as a sheet. We stared out at the gleaming metropolis that rose out just outside the glass window, and I could just make out a glimpse of green fields that rolled past the glass dome. Fields of freedom.
The hallway in which I walked down was cool, air conditioned like the rest of the city at this time of year, and the hall ways were painted a bright yellow. It had always surprised me, this building, for every floor had its own colour, and green leafy plants sat in little pots at every corner. Many of the apartments were allowed a bit of colour, for even the government agreed that it was boring to look upon monochrome colours for all times of the day.
Opening up the door to our apartment brought a waft of cooking food, and a small smile gently lifted my face. My parents had grown to my stronger emotions, and never did I feel awkward or even guilty expressing them in my own home. Yet no one, absolutely no one knew that it went further than physical expressions.
“Marilyn? Is that you?” called a concerned voice from the kitchen. Dropping my messenger bag by the door, I walked down the tiled hallway, painted cool mint green, and popped my head through the doorway.
“Yes mother, I’m home.”
She nodded, yet did not turn her back away from the counter where she was slicing chicken breast and cheese. For a second I watched her, noticing that her chestnut curls were down for once instead of their usual uptight bun.
“There you are Marilyn, we were wondering where you had been all day.” My father mused from the table. I joined him, sitting on a plush stool and peeking at the newspaper in his hands. Placing it in front of him, father offered a ghost of a smile, the most he ever did, and held a sheet of paper in the air,
“Guess what arrived in the mail today?”
Curious, I tried to focus on the small lines of script that sprawled across the page. Father placed it in front of me on the table, pointing at the title written in bold letters:
Genetic Makeups: Marilyn Dennis

For a split second I was confused, which father clearly noticed.
“You are 18 now, dear, it is time you found a mate. Everyone must do their part to keep the city populated, am I right?”
Then it hit me.
“These are the men the offices have selected for you, their genetics match up perfectly. Your children will be intelligent and attractive, perfect specimens of our society.” Father continued, his voice void of emotion.
A blend of reactions welled up inside of me, was it anger or irritation? “I know none of these men, how am I to marry one of them?”
“Marilyn, you know how it works. Just look at your father and I. Now, eat up quick you two, we have people to greet after lunch.” Mother stated, bringing plates of sandwiches and bowls of crisp salad to the table. Shrugging, I picked up my fork and stabbed a piece of lettuce.
Lunch was a rather silent meal, as many were. My family never could communicate, and yet that did not surprise me. Our society was void of comfort and companionship, parents there to merely raise the children, friends there for a meager source of entertainment. I’m not even sure I have felt friendship before.
“The rations are becoming smaller and smaller these days, Maureen.” Father frowned, having already made three quarters through his meal. I chewed thoughtfully on the rather bland turkey breast, trying to remember a time where we had anything more lavish for our midday meal.
“Yesterday I was having a chat with Catherine; apparently there have been reports of men and women putting on a few too many pounds. Government knows that we can’t have that! Surely it will ruin the genetic makeups of more than one family.”
Father merely nodded, staring at his now empty plate with longing. Having finished my own meal, I silently stood up and retired to my room. A slight breeze drifted in through the open four pane window, fluttering the white curtains softly. For most girls of any age, the bedroom is equivalent to a sanctuary. My room felt more like a prison. Blank, devoid of any colour or interest. Just bleached furniture atop a taupe carpet.
Gazing into the mirror, I frowned. Sure, I was supposed to be part of the “next best generation”, “human prototype 2.54”, and so on and so forth, I still disliked what I saw. My guess, it was all because of the uniform. A white blouse and grey skirt certainly didn’t do anything for my wavy ginger hair and beyond pale skin. If only I could wear the luminous colours that I see outside of the city, now those would certainly bring out the bright green eyes staring back at me. At least the man I would be meeting in the next hour probably had no cares about that.
“Marilyn, we are going now!” Father bellowed from the other side of the door. Already, I began to dread the soon to begin outing.
We had been walking through the city for 20 minutes now. The air conditioning that constantly circulated throughout the glass dome propelled away any warmth the sun provided. Mother and Father chatted about mundane things ahead of me, looking back every now and then to make sure I hadn’t ran off.
Reaching a pebbled courtyard, Father pulled me aside, casting a quick glance at a small group of people standing by the gurgling stone fountain. They stood aimlessly, staring up at the skyscrapers, waiting.
“Now Marilyn, I don’t want you feeling ‘nervous’ or whatever the heck that is, alright? You will listen, and you sure as heck will talk. Do you hear me?”
Staring down at the cobblestones, I nodded. Father guessed right that I would play the introvert act this time around.
“Mr and Mrs. Dennis! It is nice to meet you.” A routine voice sounded. Shaking my head of thoughts, I averted my gaze from the ground and surveyed the three strangers who now stood with us. An older man with greying hair and glasses was shaking hands with my father, a scrawny; stone faced woman was greeting my mother. Last of all, a young man was staring into my eyes expectantly. Remembering my manners, I outstretched my hand,
“Good afternoon.”
He took it into his own open palm, sending me a mechanical smile. Looking into his dark brown eyes, I was greeted with the very thing I feared. An empty, emotionless void.
“My name is James,” He stated, “James Morrison.”
“And mine is Marilyn Dennis.” I smiled. Our conversation struggled to go any further. Out of the corner of my eye I could see father giving me an expectant glare. Small talk was not one of my best qualities. Looking back up at James, I couldn’t help but think how bland he seemed. Average brown hair, shaped into an average male style, with dull brown eyes that stared from an everyday face.
“How far have you gone throughout the education system?” James asked. Ah yes, of course he starts with the good old education question. From all the conversations that have spawned with this, I am beginning to believe it’s the new hello.
A sudden chill crept down my back, and looking up, I noticed a shadow creeping over the glassy dome. Clouds were rolling in, and fast, bathing the city in gloominess. Hugging my arms to my chest, I swept the area with my eyes, catching glimpse of a commotion only two blocks away. James kept prattling on, not noticing my lack of attention.
A harsh shout pierced the air, claiming everyone’s attention. A young man with dark black hair was sprinting down the street, gripping a couple of scrolls in his arms. His face was the very epitome of anguish and fear. Their pace matching his, a couple of men in stark white suits chased him out from an alley, hollering at him to stop. The young man’s pace quickened, but soon the officers were upon him, grabbing hold of his arms. Biting and screaming, he was thrown into a large van, his papers forcefully taken from him. For a split second, his wild eyes and mine met, he was pleading for help. My mouth opened, as if I were to yell at the officers to let him go, but before I knew it the van was hurtling down the street, tires squealing.
Silence envelope the stone courtyard, broken only by the light tinkling of the fountain. My heart hammered against my chest, filling my ears with a sound akin to beating drums.
“Well… That was a very pleasant meeting! I hope you consider James as your mate. I do believe that it would be a perfect match.” Mrs. Morrison chirped, a ghost of a smile appearing on her thin lips. Mr. Morrison nodded, and with James in tow, they strode back into the reappearing crowds.