The Culling by Steven Dos Santos Read Free Book Online Page B

accelerated Special Forces program. Facing the Trials fosters competitiveness in those candidates who have demonstrated exemplary strength and would be an asset to our military, while at the same time sending a very important message to our citizens.”
    “Yeah. Be careful who you love as it may cost you your life,” I grumble. “Sounds like you’ve been memorizing the marketing manuals.”
    “No. It’s a much more complex message than that. Don’t value personal attachments over civic duty; doing so could cause our society to become fragile and susceptible to utter collapse, like it was before the Ash Wars. Is that so wrong, Lucky? And, if the effect of the Recruitment is to diminish the chance of the populace coming together and rebelling against the government—by neutralizing potential threats through recruitment and frightening people into avoiding emotional attachments—that’s just an added bonus , right?”
    He lets loose a sigh. “The Trials weed out the weak links. There are limitless opportunities for those who are resourceful, independent. Look at what I’ve achieved.”
    I throw up my hands. “Wow. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was listening to a public information broadcast on the wireless!” I head back to the couch and drop down, crossing my arms. “The Recruitment is state sanctioned murder .”
    He coughs, nearly choking on his second swig of wine. “It’s not murder.” He marches over and plunks down next to me. Scarlet droplets from his glass bleed onto the white marble floor. “Every Recruit is given an equal opportunity to advance to the next level of their training.” He holds up his hand before I can protest. “Yes, it’s unfortunate that the Recruit who achieves the lowest score after each round must undergo the Culling—”
    “Stop sterilizing it!” I hug my knees. “The loser of each trial has to choose between the lives of two people they love, and if they can’t do that, all three of them die . That’s sick.”
    The color of Cassius’s face matches what’s left of his drink. “Yes, they die. Is that what you want to hear, Lucky? Is that raw enough for you?”
    “How can you defend the system? They made you choose your mother’s life over your father’s. What kind of people would make a kid do something like that?”
    The glass drops from his hand, shattering into a million pieces. A ruby pool spreads at his feet, sliding toward the poster lying nearby. As he watches it, his face turns to stone.
    “I tried to save them both , Lucky. I’ve replayed that last round in my head every night since.” He turns to me. “You don’t know how much I wanted to be the first Recruit to ever make it through every round with both of their Incentives intact and become an Imposer.” Pools well in his eyes. “My father … he understood at the end. I … I saw it on his face. He wanted me to be strong, beat the others.”
    His expression melts and I see the Cassius I remember, a frightened sixteen-year-old selected during the Recruitment ceremony two years ago. “Oh, Lucky, why couldn’t I save him too?”
    I touch his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. You had to go through something no one should ever have to. Don’t you see? That’s how they break you.”
    He tears away. “But they haven’t broken me . Don’t you see? I can beat them at their own game. Now that I’m Prefect, I can change things, make a difference. And to do that, I need you.”
    “For what?” I lean back against the cushions.
    He scoops up the poster. It unspools, the images now tainted red. “These insurgents. So far every attempt to infiltrate their nest has met with failure.”
    “I still don’t understand what that has to do with—”
    He rolls the poster back up. “This propaganda that was in your possession when you were taken into custody—”
    “I already told you, it’s not mine . You have to believe me.” My pulse thrums in my ears.
    Cassius smiles and squeezes my knee.