Unworthy: Marked to die. Raised to survive. Read Free Page B

Polis and restricted by my mark. My tiny show of rebellion is my vigil over the children marked for death, as I was. And most of the time I have to come home well before the sun is up, my battle already lost. My future is laid out in front of me like a woven carpet. Much as I dislike the pattern, I can see no way of remaking it. If I can’t alter my own destiny, how can he possibly imagine I could change the world?
    Once on the rocks, I remove my boots and cap, and strip off down to my underwear. It’s not that I’m being daring or anything. There is no danger of being seen, because no-one comes here but me. My own private swimming spot. There are also mussels and paua if you know where to look. I’m not the only one who collects from the sea, but I’m the only one who’s willing to dive for it.
    Today I’m not collecting though. I just need a chance to unwind.
    I slip into the water with a sharp intake of breath. The first swim of the year, and the water’s touch is icy. I’ll warm up when I get moving.
    I start pulling my way through the water, cutting through the waves in sure strokes. Before I know it I’m quite far out across the bay, the rocks behind me becoming wet black forms against the pale golden yellow of the sandy cliff. I put my head down and keep going. The next time I look back, the rocks are no longer visible, and the cliff itself looks small and insignificant. Just a part of the undulating shoreline. The saltiness I taste on my lips and feel stinging at my cuts and grazes is familiar and welcome.
    With the rhythm of my breathing, my mihi runs through my head. I’ve always found it comforting, a reminder of who I am, my place in the world. My mihi is my identity. I am Arcadia Grey. My Grandfather is Mathias Grey. I come from Sector Four. My parents were Ian and Sarah Grey. My parents are both dead . The last part is always the hardest. I am Unworthy.
    I am over halfway now; closer to the wreckage of the port. I’m beginning to feel the effects of the swim, and am making myself pull in deeper breaths to feed my hungry lungs. It’s time I turned back.
    With the initial burst of energy expended, my body begins to find a different, more controlled rhythm, and I cannot stop my mind turning to the subject I least want to explore.
    The cold weight returns to my chest, although I’m not sure why – this day was always going to come, after all. But I’m never prepared enough for the all-encompassing dread that hits me when another baby is born in our hub, and has to undergo their inspection.
    For the rest of the hub, the arrival of a baby is cause for celebration, but I’ve learned not to get carried away. It’s simply too soon. I try not to imagine what Chloe is feeling right now. The nano-patch will have been applied at birth, her child receiving its life-giving vaccine as soon as possible, but the vaccine is no guarantee. So many of our children are simply not born strong enough to survive in a world so rife with infection, and although the Polis immunologists are working to improve the vaccine, many of our babies continue to contract postnatal diseases.
    I imagine that Chloe will be beside herself with worry, wondering if her newborn will pass inspection, or whether it will fail and be marked. I shudder. Suddenly the chill in the water seems to be sinking into my bones. I can’t help it; whenever a new baby is born I can’t help thinking of my mother. What did she feel? Did she have any inkling of the results? What were there the clues that told her that I would not pass? That I would be found unworthy of life? And how could she take me out that night to the ring of stones to die?

    Chapter Three
    After the swim I feel lighter, but the fresh breeze on my wet skin is distinctly uncomfortable. The feeling of discomfort reminds of the ordeal ahead of me tonight. I sigh, and reluctantly head for home.
    Our pod is exactly the same as all the others. Four circular structures, bubbling out from a