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hateful. "That's really going to be useful. Much more useful than say, what the different colors mean."
                  She shrunk back from his glare. "Of course, sir. I mean, no, sir." She tripped over her words, flicking her gaze to her classmates. None of them met her eyes.
                  "Alright, I can see this is too hard for you, Mackenzie. I'll make it easy. What does blue mean?"
                  Sarah did not look up to see what expression went with the condescending words. "Blue is the lowest of the levels and means the Dem has not been violent in at least five centuries."
                  "Green?" he barked.
                  Sarah kept her head down. "Green is the second lowest level. It means the Dem has not been violent in at least a century." She looked up quickly to see if she should continue.
                  "Go on," her trainer ordered, stepping away and giving her some space.
                  She let out a quiet sigh, watching him carefully. "Yellow is the third lowest level. It means the Dem has not been violent in at least fifty years." When he did not look at her, she continued. "Orange is the second highest level. It means the Dem has not been violent in at least ten years."
                  "And Red?" he asked offhandedly, busy with the chains. She watched him rearrange the stack until wrist and ankle restraints were separated from the rest.
                  "Red," she said quietly, watching as he lay a chest harness next to the restraints, "is the highest level. It means the Dem has not been violent in at least a year."
                  "Explain why there is no color for Dems who have been violent in the past year." He finished sorting and laid the connecting chain beside the rest.
                  Sarah stared at him blankly. "I…" She looked at her classmates. All of them looked equally confused. "Sir?"
                  He straightened and tucked his hands in his pockets. "A new level has recently been added." He looked at the closest cell. "Black." He turned around and his gaze landed on her. "Handler Mackenzie will be the first to experience a Dem with a DCS of black."
                  "What is a DCS of black, sir?" she whispered, following his gaze to the first cell.
                  "Violent in the past year or violent on a regular basis. In this Dem's case, both." He turned to face the class and the look in his eyes was enough to make her shiver. "Handler Mackenzie will be demonstrating proper Dem handling technique."
                  Sarah stared at him. When his expression hardened, she took a step forward. "Yes, sir."
                  "What is the first step, Handler Mackenzie?" He stared at her expectantly.
                  Her eyes moved to the panel on the wall next to the cell. "Observation, sir."
                  "Do it, then." He stepped aside to give her a clear path.
                  "Yes, sir." She walked toward the cell. She had to do this. For herself. For her family. She forced herself not to move faster when she passed him, her muscles tense, and her body poised for flight. His gaze was a cold weight. Each step toward the cell was a struggle, until she stood just a handwidth from the barrier.
                  Her breath hit the shield on every exhale, a small crackle across the field of energy. The cell appeared pitch black through the Dark Screen. Her eyes strayed to the glass panel just to the right.
                  "Take off the DS, Handler Mackenzie."
                  Sarah twitched at the sound of the trainer's voice from just behind her. She looked over her shoulder. The class stood against the wall across from the cell. All of them stared at her expectantly. She looked at her trainer.
                  "Yes, sir." With