The Azuli - Cassidy Shay (novels in english .txt) 📗

which I believed were personally tailored, instead of having sizes small, medium, and large, like the jumpsuits. One of them had a clipboard. He was taller than the other man and looked more composed. His hair was combed neatly to the side, and he had no stubble on his chin or cheeks. He had a small mustache on his upper lip that didn’t quite match his hair in color. His knuckles on his left had seemed swollen, and I could see small cuts on them, leading me to believe that he’s been in a fight in the recent past. His nose was large and pointy, and his lips were big, almost as if they belonged to a woman instead of a man.
The man without the clipboard was shorter, with a bit of fat that was visible through his custom uniform. His hair was messy and he had quite a bit of stubble. He had a small bruise on his right cheek that looked to be several days old. His shirt was un-tucked on one side, and his pants seemed to be riding a little low. He had a pug nose and green eyes, shadowed by his enormous eyebrows.
“Penny Azul?” one said, glancing around the room. I sighed when he used the last name given to all Azuli, instead of my real last name, but I stood up anyway.
“Right here,” I said. “Penny Azul. Last name: Miller. Date of birth: September 22, 3204. Date of admittance: September 24, 3209. Identification number: 1274882. Cell 1A-5.”
“Thank you. Please stand over there with Vipero 17820.” The Vipero, just like us, had identification numbers. The difference was that we Azuli only used our numbers when introducing ourselves to the Vipero or a doctor, while the Vipero never used each other’s names, at least not in front of us. It often made me roll my eyes, but this time, I was a little too scared to bother with that.
“And,” he started again, “we also need two others. The neighbors said that they’d be here.” He looked at Carl and Jack. “Are you Carl Azul and Jack Azul?” They stood up and recited their information in monotonous voices, and we were led out of the cell and through the halls.
As soon as we stepped out, we took a right, then a left. There, standing in front of us in between rooms B2 and B3, was a woman pushing a wheelchair. In the wheelchair was a small boy, who I knew was five years old. It had been a while since I’d seen one of the Specials, or the kids who were mentally or physically handicapped.
In an effort to create a society where there were no differences, no opportunities to make fun of someone, or anything that makes things difficult in any way, the dictator had ordered the Vipero to monitor the babies born with any major problems, either physically or mentally. The children were then brought to the Azuli Academy to be given “special care,” as the propaganda put it. I didn’t know how many people outside the Academy knew what was really going on, but I guessed that since no one hesitated as they gave up their children, most people were in the dark.
I remember a time, before I came to the Azuli Academy, that a Special had been taken from my neighborhood. I was four, and had watched my brother be taken a year earlier. This, though, was different.
With Jack’s departure, there had been tears and group hugs. The parents of this boy, though, seemed happy to see the Vipero take their son away to a place where they would never get to visit him.
They waved twice, and then turned their backs on their terrified son and went into the house. I didn’t really understand why they took him. I played with him, and hadn’t noticed anything wrong with the boy. He was a little slow to understand certain things, and he talked a little funny, but I didn’t consider that a reason to tear him from his family.
I wanted to run to him, try to convince the Vipero that it was all a mistake. My mother stopped me, though. She explained that they were going to fix him.
“They will take him to the Academy, and make him better. They’re going to try to find a cure for him, so he’ll be smart.” She smiled hopefully. “If it works, they’ll bring him back.”
“What happens if they don’t fix him?” I asked. I was scared for my friend. I became even more scared when my mother didn’t answer my question.
When I’d come to the Academy, I asked around, but no one knew the boy. When I mentioned that he was a Special, they just shook their heads and told me to forget about him. “He’s long gone,” they said.
The Specials were kept for six months up on the sixth floor. The doctors and scientists used them for numerous experiments, trying to find a way to cure the various disorders. I’d been at the Academy ten years, and still hadn’t heard of a successful case. After six months of weekly appointments, the Specials were exterminated. Most of the time, by that point, their limbs were so twisted and misshapen, it must have been a relief to die.
Less than a year after I came to the Academy, I found out how the doctors “fix” the Specials.
I was on Level 6, getting my sore throat looked at, when I heard screaming down the hall. It sounded like a human in immense pain, too great to describe. I asked the doctor about it, and he shrugged.
“I wouldn’t worry about it if I were you. It’s not a person that they’re working with. It’s something that doesn’t deserve mercy or peace.” I instantly thought of the Jews in WWII, who hadn’t been considered human either.
“Why?” I asked. He just frowned and told me again not to worry about it. Another scream traveled through the open door. “Whatever it is, it sure sounds human,” I mumbled.
The doctor grabbed my arm in a vise grip. “What’s going on in there is none of your business. You’ll find out soon enough, so stop asking questions before you’re ready to know the answer. For now, mind your own business and forget about what you heard today.”
I couldn’t, thought. Screams of torture is a sound that you can never forget. I had nightmares every night for months about the Specials. They screamed and writhed in pain because of what was done to them. And then, they did the same thing to me.
But eventually the nightmares stopped, only coming back when I saw a Special, just like the one that I saw that day.
Of course, while Carl, Jack, and I gaped at the boy, the guards didn’t even blink an eye at the sight. We kept walking until we were standing in front of room C5, one of the rooms set aside for punishments.
Instead of being DarkRooms, B5, C5, and D5 were all for punishment, and were split up into seven smaller rooms each. This meant that twenty-one Azuli could be punished at once on each floor. Most of the time, they were empty of anyone but the cleaning staff.
Apparently, we were about to change that, and we didn’t even know what we’d done wrong. I was the first to be dropped off in Section A. There was a small table with two chairs, and everything else was bare. I was surprised to see that in one of the chairs, there was an old man shuffling through some papers. He looked strangely familiar, and after a few minutes, I realized that he was the same man that I’d met on the day I’d been informed of my history ten years before.
Before, you might have doubted that having a slow day meant having a bad day. If, even after the visit from the Vipero, you still doubt it, then what you’ll read next will kick any doubt out of your head and into some place that’s far, far away.
“Please sit down, Miss Azul,” he said, not even looking up from his papers.
“Actually, Mr. Man, my last name’s Miller,” I said before taking a seat. He made a few notes before he said anything to me.
“That almost sounded like disrespect, Miss… uh, Miller.” I rolled my eyes at him and he made another note. “As does that.”
“I’m sorry, sir. I just thought that since you referred to me as the general group to which I belong, you wanted me to do the same to you. Maybe I wasn’t specific enough? How’s ‘Mr. Scumbag?’” I almost laughed when he actually gasped, because I didn’t think he’d really be that offended. I knew that my comebacks were horrible, but apparently they worked.
“Now that we’ve covered the names,” I said, “I have a question for you, Mr. Scumbag.” I pause for a moment. “Or is it doctor? Dr. Scumbag. Hmm… No, I think mister will do just fine. Mr. Scumbag, what am I here for?” Once again, I knew that the insults I was shooting out were horrible and childish, but I couldn’t help myself.
In hindsight, I probably should have at least tried a little harder to help myself. I should have kept quiet and been respectful. However, his reactions were giving me too much satisfaction.
“You are here because you have been selected for a cell transfer.” I stared at him, not believing for a second. I knew that to be considered for a cell transfer, there had to be problems between an Azulate and their roommate or neighbors. “Miss Miller, you have been chosen for something very special, something that we’ve never tried before. You should be honored to have even been considered for this, let alone chosen.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Honored? You mean sort of like how I was supposed to feel honored to be an Azulate? How it made me so special? How the only thing it did was get me a one-way ticket to prison since the age of five? That kind of honored?” I was furious, and I didn’t want to hear another word. At the same time, I was curious as to what would happen to me. He didn’t answer my question, but instead he continued with what he’d been saying.
“Miss Miller, you were chosen for an experiment dealing with Azuli breeding. Before you say anything, I want you to know that we can force you to do this, and we will if it comes to that. You have two days to decide if you’ll do this the easy or hard way.” With those words as his conclusion, he walked out the door and left me alone with my thoughts.
It took a second for things to get settled in my head. The word “breeding” kept bouncing around in my brain, and it was all I could think about after he was gone. Instantly, I thought of all the times in the Memories when human slaves had been bred.
I didn’t know much about the birds and bees, or the reproductive process, or however you choose to say it. But I did know that it was something to be shared with someone you love. Not something that’s done for a science experiment. Then it fully sunk in, making me shiver. I was to be bred, like a horse or a cow. Like a slave.
I closed my eyes and I could see a Memory of a slave in America.
He’s big, strong, and looks as tough as nails. He’s chopping wood in the hot sun, and