Elected (The Elected Series Book 1) Read Free

responsibility sits on my shoulders like a lead weight.
    How have I not known the prisoners’ building is so close to where I live? It was right next door all this time, in what used to be called the Old Executive Office Building. I realize my parents and Tomlin have sheltered me against the realities of my new role until the end. Taking the Elected position is technically my choice, but I don’t get the full story until it’s too late.
    I’m angry at them, but when I stop to think about it, reluctantly thankful at the same time. I know I would have chosen the same route either way. How could I have abandoned my family and country like Evan did? If I declined the Elected role, my family would prematurely lose power before a hundred years’ time, and East Country would be thrown into disarray. So, maybe it was better all along not to know the gory details of my leadership role. In two weeks, I will be the Elected, and nothing I see now will make a difference. My commitment to the generations of my family and East Country will not be deterred by seeing hemlock wreak its havoc.
    We are both steadfast in our walk up the stone steps. Each of us is resolute. Both of us walk in the same manner. I’ve studied my father’s manly gait for years. I can now recreate it so well, I walk more like him than I do like myself.
    A few guards nod to us as we cross the door into the building. My father knows the way and thus no one leads us further. After a turn down one solitary corridor, we stop in front of a wooden door. Before we go in, my father turns to me.
    When he doesn’t speak and merely looks at me I say, “Apa?”
    He touches my shoulder almost like he cares for my feelings. “Are you ready?”
    “I am.” I’m firm, even now that I realize exactly what we’ll be doing.
    “One day soon you will have to watch one of these by yourself.” He stops squeezing my shoulder. “Do not close your eyes when it happens. The accused deserves for you to see them. Lock eyes with the prisoners. Give them your full attention. Think about their lives. How precious every life is. But remember our laws. If we did not have them, there would be no life at all.”
    I nod. I know why my father adheres to the four Accords so fervently. They’re the only things keeping our world in check. Without them, there would be chaos, and we’d be thrown back into the old times. So, even though we might not like or agree with all of the Accords’ policies, we have to follow them. At least, I might not like or agree with all of them. I’m pretty sure my mother and father are believers, one hundred percent.
    We cross through the wooden doorway into the prisoner’s quarters. It’s a room sectioned into two parts. Our side holds a wooden bench and nothing else. A thick piece of glass separates our side from the one housing the prisoner. The accused seems to be in his forties, relatively old for our country. I look over at my father, who answers my question without being asked.
    “His crime is invention. He was trying to manufacture a battery.”
    The accused sits on the small cot in his room. There’s a large potted plant in the corner—a rarity for us. We try to provide a few luxuries in this small space. We try to make it nice for people’s last days.
    The prisoner’s eyes are downcast, but then he suddenly leaps up. He moves toward the glass separating us. I can’t hear what he’s yelling, but I can make out what he’s mouthing anyway. He screams over and over again, “We need technology!” He beats his fists against the glass, and I instinctively lean back.
    “It won’t break,” my father assures me. “It’s from the old days. Armor glass. A piece leftover.”
    Even when the atomic bombs went off, this glass didn’t break. So I feel confident this man won’t be able to get through. We aren’t able to manufacture this glass anymore, so it’s all the more precious to our country. However, I do see the irony in using the glass