except for me, of course. Everyone else is worried that they won't leave a good enough impression on the judges, but i'm pretty confident that i'll be the best. They, that is, all the other sixteen to eighteen year olds in Impressionworld, are worried about the consequences of failure. If you win, you keep your life. If you lose, you get to walk into the Outdoor. And never come back.
But i'm not worried, because only one, the worst impression artist, will be doomed to walk out.Every two months there's another ImpressionShow. I'm seventeen, so i'm not new, and i know how to impress. I've been training all my life. But it's not me i'm worried about losing to the Outdoor.
it's my best friend, my only friend, who has not yet shown up for impressions. If you're not there, you get a zero.
And a one way ticket to the Outdoor, and the dark world beyond.
All the participants in the Show are sitting on the 53 chairs in the room, although chair number 41 is not occupied. Hillary Tiber is still missing. The square, grey room is bare but for the metal chairs and the people sitting on them. There are two doors; one leads out, one leads to the Show, to the Judges. That door is always closed, until the first role number is called. Mine is number 2.
A loud voice blasts over the intercom. "Jesse Adder, role number 1."
The boy sitting next to me gets up. We know each other well, and kind of like each other, or at least we don't hate eachother. After all, he's my cousin.
"Good luck, Jesse. Make an impression," i say. He grins and flicks his blonde hair out of his eyes, then frowns, taking in my troubled expression. He looks across the room at the one empty chair and makes the connection.
"Don't worry, Skye," he says, "Hillary will make it in time. She doesn't have to be here until her role number is called. 41, right?"
I nod, but don't believe. I watch unseeingly as Jesse walks over to the Show's door and speaks his name. The door slides silently open, then closes behind him. I know he'll be fine. He's a lion tamer; what's not impressive about that?
My thoughts turn back to Hillary. Once a boy had slept in and missed the Show. He'd been banished to the Outdoor. What a terrible day for Hillary to sleep in!
I pull out my Wristband, and hit the Tracker icon.I punch in Hillary's name, and get a blueprint of the spaceship/asteroid that is ImpressionWorld. A little bleeping light is Hillary. I stare at the dot. it is not in her dorm room, so she's not sleeping in. What could be so important that she'd miss the Show, knowing she'll almost certainly be the one who'll get shoved through the Outdoor?
A hand clamps down on my shoulder and i jump, startled.I peer up into the masked face of an Enforcer, our police force. She is covered from head to toe in a white body suit, but she is obviously female. She taps below her hand where her own Wristband is and shakes her head.
Right. No Wristbands during the show. They can be used to talk to people, to plan your day, or help you remember things, but the real reason is so that our government can keep track of everyone in ImpressionWorld. It's their way of controlling us.I tuck my arm behind my back and the Enforcer walks back to the exit she and some other comrades of hers are guarding. We're not allowed outside communication during the show. We're isolated until the last person makes their impression, and the results come back. And someone goes through the Outdoor.
Hurry Mallory, I plead silently.
No matter how much we dislike it, we need the Outdoor, and someone to walk through it six times a year. Centuries ago, when we lived on a planet, maybe it was different. Here, in ImpressionWorld, we live on an asteroid, with only so much room, oxygen, and basic necessities of life. If we didn't eliminate one person every two months, we would over crowd the asteroid, deplete our low supply of oxygen, and no one would survive. But even though we should be thanking the Government for possibly saving us all, I can't bring myself to do it.
If Mallory doesn't make it, I think,I will never forgive them for throwing her out.
Five minutes pass, and on the dot, Jesse walks out. In that instant, the intercom bleats again. "Role number 2, Skye Antonitus."
I stand up and walk towards the door. As I pass Jesse I lean in and whisper, "Watch for Mallory." he nods, and I have to be satisfied with that. I turn and continue on until I am facing the door. It looks like a flat sheet of metal, with no apparent opening. It activates to your voice.
"Skye Antonitus," I say calmly, and the door opens. I flick my long, waist length blonde hair over my shoulder and take a deep breath.
I walk in.
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