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Miranda Reynolds has lost her home, her job and her husband – all thanks to an economic collapse that has brought America to its knees. The shops are empty; the streets no longer safe. Miranda and her daughter Emma have nowhere left to turn. There is one final hope, a self-sufficient haven for women who want to live a life free from men. Femlandia. For Miranda, the secluded Femlandia is a last resort. Life outside the gates is fraught with danger, but there’s something just as sinister going on within. Welcome to Femlandia… It’s no place like home.

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The one decision you can’t take back... Prosecutor, Justine Boucher has only asked for the death penalty once, in a brutal murder case. In doing so, she put her own life on the line. Because, if the convicted are later found innocent, the lawyer who requested the execution will be sentenced to death. Justine had no doubt that the man she sent to the chair was guilty. Until now. Presented with evidence that could prove his innocence, Justine must find out the truth before anyone else does. Her life depends on it.

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Utopia and Dystopia: Short Stories ed. by Christopher Edge

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Utopia and Dystopia: Short Stories ed. by Christopher Edge

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This collection of short stories is the perfect introduction to the dystopian and utopian genres with texts from authors including Shirley Jackson, Ken Liu, Franz Kafka, Begum Rokeya, and many more. Stories of a grisly ritual lottery designed to ensure a good harvest, a feminist utopia, a society where a personal assistant app robs users of freewill, and people dealing with the aftermath of a climate change apocalypse, provide insights into the societal concerns of the times in which they were written. Drawn from the 19th, 20th and 21st centuries, the collection offers readers the opportunity to broaden their understanding of different perspectives, to reflect about the world that they live in, and think critically about how society might evolve.

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The Last Bookstore on Earth by Lily Braun-Arnold

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The Last Bookstore on Earth by Lily Braun-Arnold

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'The world is about to end. Again.' It’s been a year since a devastating storm ripped Liz’s world apart. Haunted by the memories of those she couldn’t save, Liz is holed up in the only place she felt safe before her world fell away: the bookstore where she used to work. Now she spends her days trading books for supplies and collecting stories from the remaining survivors who pass by. Until she learns that another earth-shattering Storm is coming... and everything changes.

Enter Maeve, a spiky out-of-towner who breaks into the bookstore looking for shelter one night. When Maeve’s secrets and Liz’s inner demons come back to haunt them both, they find themselves fighting for their lives and asking themselves one big question. As the end of the world approaches, is there time for one final love story?

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A future queen lies murder... Justice is merciless in the Hive, a monarchy of tomorrow, where young bodyguard Feldspar awaits execution, guilty of being alive when her charge is dead. The girl has one defender – Niko, a royal maverick. Together they have three days to prove the impossible. Three days to question everything Feldspar knows about the

world that raised her and discover who the real murderer is...

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Britain is awash, the sea creeps into the land, brambles and forest swamp derelict towns. Food production has moved overseas and people are forced to move to the cities for work. The countryside is empty. A chorus, the herd voice of feral cows, wander this newly wild land watching over changing times, speaking with love and exasperation. Jesse and his puppy Mister Maliks roam the woods until his family are forced to leave for London. Lee runs from the terrible restrictions of the White Town where he grew up. Isolde leaves London on foot, walking the abandoned A12 in search of the truth about her mother.

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The Things We Leave Behind by Clare Furniss

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The Things We Leave Behind by Clare Furniss

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Civil unrest in London has reached an all-time high after years of a growing authoritarian regime, and it’s no longer safe for Clem and her half-sister Billie in the city. Clem tells of their treacherous journey to Scotland, by road and then by sea, fleeing with nothing but a notebook filled with stories and memories of home. But is there something Clem's not saying? And how will this journey – and the sisters’ story – end? With the start of a new life? Or a mirror held up to the past?

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On her seventeenth birthday, Cassia meets her Match. Society dictates he is her perfect partner for life. Except he's not. In Cassia's society, Officials decide who people love. How many children they have. Where they work. When they die. But, as Cassia finds herself falling in love with another boy, she is determined to make some choices of her own. And that's when her whole world begins to unravel...

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'Hello, I'm Your Election' by Genevieve Valentine

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'Hello, I'm Your Election' by Genevieve Valentine

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[Read online] A glimpse into the future of voting

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Mozilla invited science fiction and fantasy author Genevieve Valentine to describe elections in the future, given advances in technology we see every day. Hello, I'm Your Election premiered as an audio piece on Mozilla's IRL podcast. The full fiction text is below.

Hello, I'm Your Election
Hello. Welcome to Election 2040. I'm Betsy Ross, your Ballot Assistant. Thank you for coming out to vote. Let's get started! Please transmit your citizen ID number.
JeffJacobs19800514
Welcome, JeffJacobs! Thank you for being a citizen. Confirming facial recognition. Please look into the camera and repeat: "For purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain."
For purple mountain majesties above the fruited plain
Okay, got it! Thank you. Please indicate your political party.
Old Faithful
Great, thank you! Before we get started voting, a few questions to verify your identity. Please list your city of residence.
Madison, Wisconsin
Okay, thank you! Did you file taxes for calendar year 2039?
Yes
Great! Let's check some receipts to verify your activity. Did you make a purchase from BLUEBIRD CAFE ROCKFORD ILLINOIS on AUGUST 15, 2039?
Uh
Sorry, I didn't catch that. Please repeat. You can say "Yes," "No," or "I don't know."
I don't know
All right, let's look closer. Did you purchase EGG SANDWICH CHEESE MAYO and COFFEE MILK SUGAR DECAF from BLUEBIRD CAFE ROCKFORD ILLINOIS on AUGUST 15, 2039?
I guess?
I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. Here is a photo of the BLUEBIRD CAFE in ROCKFORD, ILLINOIS Does this look familiar?
Sure
Okay, great. Thank you! Did you attend any demonstrations of dissent against the current administration in 2039?
No
Thank you, patriot! Did you attend any demonstrations of dissent against a third or miscellaneous party?
Yes
Details please?
Protest against Coffee-Coffee Cafe
What date?
Uh. Late July? Whenever they started covering gay insurance.
I've found a protest that took place in MADISON WISCONSIN on JULY 29, 2039 with a facial recognition match to your citizen ID number. Is this your protest?
Yeah
Okay, great, thank you! Did you attend any demonstration of support for the current administration?
Yes
Details please?
"A Decade of Progress" pre-election rally
I've found one "A DECADE OF PROGRESS" PUBLIC RALLY in ROCKFORD ILLINOIS on OCTOBER 6, 2040 with a facial recognition match to your citizen ID number. Is this your rally?
Yes
Okay, great, thank you! Please hold while I cross-check this information for you, and then we'll get you set to vote. This might take a few moments.
Why would it take so long? I voted in the last election.
Please hold. Your vote is important to us.
It usually doesn't take this long.
Hi! I have your results. Treasonous activity detected.
What?
Booth has been locked. Arrest beacon activated. Please remain calm.
Wait, what? No! I didn't do anything! What are you talking about?
Undisclosed travel across state lines for purchase of goods on AUGUST 15, 2039: Smuggling. Class E felony. Unauthorized boycott of COFFEE-COFFEE CAFE, a Forbes 500 corporation: Larceny. Class A misdemeanor. Unauthorized travel across state lines on OCTOBER 6, 2040 for political purposes: Sedition. Class C felony.
But I went there for the president! I got an email about the rally!
Criminal activity lifetime limit exceeded. Citizenship revoked.
What the fu-! You can't do that! I want to - manager! Manager! Speak to a manager! Supervisor!
I'm sorry. Managerial assistance is not available to non-citizens.
No! I have the number! Let me speak to a manger! I'm a citizen!
Citizenship not found.
But I just need to speak to a supervisor! Somebody!
Arrest beacon activated. Remove and detain. Remove and detain. Remove and -
Confirmed pickup, voice ID Delta Charlie Foxtrot seventeen.
Thank you Delta Charlie Foxtrot seventeen. Arrest confirmed. Thank you for removing and detaining a traitor. America depends on you! Voter record deleted. Next voter, please. Hello. Welcome to Election 2040. I'm Betsy Ross, your Ballot Assistant. Thank you for coming out to vote. Let's get started!
What to Expect When You're Electing

How close is Genevieve Valentine's speculative fiction to the truth?

Election interference has been happening for centuries, but the misinformation spread online adds a new level of meddling opportunity. In the Season 3 finale Mozilla's IRL podcast, Veronica Belmont and Baratunde Thurston explore how social media campaigns, online propaganda, and data mining are all racing to impact the way we vote. Have a listen:

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Hello, I'm Your Election: Speculative Fiction by Genevieve Valentine | The Mozilla Blog

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Mozilla invited science fiction and fantasy author Genevieve Valentine to describe elections in the future, given advances in technology we see every day.

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In a nightmarish through-a-glass-darkly Britain, they are coming closer . 'I remembered how they began, a parody for the newspapers. No one wrote about them now.' Life on the windswept Sussex coast goes on as it has for centuries. But this is England through-a-glass-darkly. They are coming closer. It begins with a dead dog, shadowy footsteps, confiscated books. The National Gallery is cleared; motorway checkpoints demarcate Areas; the Art Centres are raided. The surviving writers, artists, and thinkers become cultural refugees, preserving their crafts, creating, loving, and remembering. But as subversives are gleaned by military surveys, cured of identity, desensitised in retreats, they make it easier to forget...

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The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick

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The Man in the High Castle by Philip K Dick

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In this nightmare dystopia the Nazis have taken over New York, the Japanese control California and the African continent is virtually wiped out. In a neutral buffer zone in America that divides the world's new rival superpowers, lives the author of an underground bestseller. His book offers a new vision of reality - an alternative theory of world history in which the Axis powers were defeated - giving hope to the disenchanted. Does 'reality' lie with him, or is his world just one among many others?

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I Who Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman

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I Who Never Known Men by Jacqueline Harpman

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Deep underground, thirty-nine women are kept in isolation in a cage. Above ground, a world awaits. Has it been abandoned? Devastated by a virus? Watched over by guards, the women have no memory of how they got there, no notion of time, and only vague recollection of their lives before. But, as the burn of electric light merges day into night and numberless years pass, a young girl - the fortieth prisoner - sits alone and outcast in the corner. Soon she will show herself to be the key to the others' escape and survival in the strange world that awaits them above ground. The woman who will never know men.

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The Country of Ice Cream Star by Sandra Newman

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The Country of Ice Cream Star by Sandra Newman

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My name be Ice Cream Fifteen Star and this be the tale of how I bring the cure to all the Nighted States, save every poory children, short for life. Is how a city die for selfish love, and rise from this same smallness. Be how the new America begin, in wars against all hope - a country with no power in a world that hate its life. So been the faith I sworn, and it ain't evils in no world nor cruelties in no red hell can change the vally heart of Ice Cream Star. In the ruins of a future America, fifteen-year-old Ice Cream Star and her people survive by scavenging in the detritus of an abandoned civilization. Theirs is a world of children - by the time they reach twenty, each of them will die from a disease they call posies. When her brother sickens, Ice Cream sets out on the trail of a cure, led by a stranger whose intentions remain unclear. It's a quest that will lead her to love and heartbreak, to captivity and to a nation's throne, and ultimately into a war that threatens to doom everyone she loves.

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Candace Chen, a millennial drone self-sequestered in a Manhattan office tower, is devoted to routine. With the recent passing of her Chinese immigrant parents, she's had her fill of uncertainty. She's content just to carry on: She goes to work, troubleshoots the teen-targeted Gemstone Bible, watches movies in a Greenpoint basement with her boyfriend. So Candace barely notices when a plague of biblical proportions sweeps New York. Then Shen Fever spreads. Families flee. Companies cease operations. The subways screech to a halt. Her bosses enlist her as part of a dwindling skeleton crew with a big end-date payoff. Soon entirely alone, still unfevered, she photographs the eerie, abandoned city as the anonymous blogger NY Ghost. Candace won't be able to make it on her own forever, though. Enter a group of survivors, led by the power-hungry IT tech Bob. They're traveling to a place called the Facility, where, Bob promises, they will have everything they need to start society anew. But Candace is carrying a secret she knows Bob will exploit. Should she escape from her rescuers?

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Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

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Tender is the Flesh by Agustina Bazterrica

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It all happened so quickly. First, animals became infected with the virus and their meat became poisonous. Then governments initiated the Transition. Now, 'special meat' - human meat - is legal. Marcos is in the business of slaughtering humans - only no one calls them that. He works with numbers, consignments, processing. One day, he's given a gift to seal a deal: a specimen of the finest quality. He leaves her in his barn, tied up, a problem to be disposed of later. But she haunts Marcos. Her trembling body, and watchful gaze, seem to understand. And soon, he becomes tortured by what has been lost - and what might still be saved.

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Beauty comes at a price. And girls must pay. In Belle and Joni's world there are two options for girls: One, follow the rules of the Doctrine like Belle: apply your Mask, work hard to be crowned at the Ceremony, be a Pretty. Or two, fight the rules like Joni: leave your face bare, work hard to escape to the Education, be an Objectionable. But maybe there is a third option... If Belle and Joni work together, can they destroy the rules and set themselves free?

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The Principle of Simultaneity is a scientific breakthrough which will revolutionise interstellar civilisation by making possible instantaneous communication. It is the life work of Shevek, a brilliant physicist from the arid anarchist world of Anarres. But Shevek's work is being stifled by jealous colleagues, so he travels to Anarres's sister-planet Urras, hoping to find more liberty and tolerance there. But he soon finds himself being used as a pawn in a deadly political game.

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We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia

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We Set the Dark on Fire by Tehlor Kay Mejia

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At the Medio School for Girls, distinguished young women are trained for one of two roles in their polarized society. Depending on her specialization, a graduate will one day run a husband’s household or raise his children. Both paths promise a life of comfort and luxury, far from the frequent political uprisings of the lower class. Daniela Vargas is the school’s top student, but her pedigree is a lie. She must keep the truth hidden or be sent back to the fringes of society. And school couldn’t prepare her for the difficult choices she must make after graduation, especially when she is asked to spy for a resistance group desperately fighting to bring equality to Medio. Will Dani cling to the privilege her parents fought to win for her, or will she give up everything she’s strived for in pursuit of a free Medio—and a chance at a forbidden love?

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The Earth is dying. Darrow is a Red, a miner in the interior of Mars. His mission is to extract enough precious elements to one day tame the surface of the planet and allow humans to live on it. The Reds are humanity's last hope. Or so it appears, until the day Darrow discovers it's all al lie. That Mars has been habitable - and inhabited - for generations, by a class of people calling themselves the Golds.

A class of people who look down on Darrow and his fellows as slave labour, to be exploited and worked to death without a second thought. Until the day that Darrow, with the help of a mysterious group of rebels, disguises himself as a Gold and infiltrates their command school, intent on taking down his oppressors from the inside. But the command school is a battlefield - and Darrow isn't the only student with an agenda. Break the chains. Live for more.

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England, 1851. William is a biologist and seed merchant, who sets out to build a new type of beehive-one that will give both him and his children honour and fame.

United States, 2007. George is a beekeeper and fights an uphill battle against modern farming, but hopes that his son can be their salvation.

China, 2098. Tao hand paints pollen onto the fruit trees now that the bees have long since disappeared. When Tao's young son is taken away by the authorities after a tragic accident - and is kept in the dark about his whereabouts and condition - she sets out on a gruelling journey to find out what happened to him. Haunting, illuminating, and deftly written, The History of Bees joins these three very different narratives into one gripping and thought-provoking story that is just as much about the powerful relationships between children and parents as it is about our very relationship to nature and humanity. Inexpressibly moving and utterly haunting, it’s a book about the very real threat of ecological disaster and our attempts to remain connected in a changing, ever-more chaotic world.

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The world didn't end all at once but drip by drip... Manon Pawlak has just turned eighteen, a debutant at the start of the Virtue Season: a process that will result in a match with a suitable genetic mate. Her best friend, Agatha, has been decommissioned, forbidden to partake in the season and unite with the boy who has had her heart since they were children. When Manon's mother wades out into the waters of Penn Vale with stones sewn into the lining of her coat, Manon's genetic purity is called into question and she's forced to rely on the fisherman's son, Wick, to keep her secret. But as they dance, the truth about their world starts to unravel, and Manon finds herself at the centre of it all. And the council is watching.

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Six years ago, seventeen-year-old Mora survived the terrifying Skøl invasion. They stole her land. They took her family. And now not even her life is her own. Skøl culture revolves around one motto: Life is Golden. You must pay the government for the right to survive. If you can't, you're cast out at best - at worst, culled. Records of every citizen are held at the hallowed, highly secured Life Registry, which tracks who lives and who dies, who pays and who fails. Colonised survivors like Mora face endless servitude, repaying the 'debt' of their years lived before the invasion. Mora is resigned to her fate, finding glimmers of joy in her tentative friendship with another repayer, the handsome, elusive Kit. But then she finds out that twelve-year-old Zako, the closest thing she has to a brother, is to be put to death by the dangerous new Skøl Governor. Finding the courage to fight back, Mora and Kit conspire to smuggle Zako to safety. But their plan draws them into a dark mystery - and to a heart-pounding mission at the Life Registry itself. They must ultimately ask themselves: what are we worth to each other?

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'Utopias and anti-utopias' by Edward James in The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction

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'Utopias and anti-utopias' by Edward James in The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction

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Access to Cambridge Companions is IP-based, so simply click the link while connected to the school wifi; you can also download chapters as PDFs to read at home.

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Utopias and anti-utopias (Chapter 16) - The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction

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The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction - November 2003

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The Cambridge Companions to Utopias (online)

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The Cambridge Companions to Utopias (online)

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Digital access to the book with academic chapters on dystopian literature, including chapters on 'The origins of dystopia', 'Utopia, dystopia, and science fiction', 'Feminism and utopianism', and 'Ecology and dystopia'. Access to Cambridge Companions is IP-based, so simply click the link while connected to the school wifi; you can also download chapters as PDFs to read at home.

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The Cambridge Companion to Utopian Literature

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Cambridge Core - English Literature: General Interest - The Cambridge Companion to Utopian Literature

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The Cambridge Companion to Margaret Atwood (online)

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The Cambridge Companion to Margaret Atwood (online)

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Digital access to the book with academic chapters addressing Atwood's life and works. Access to Cambridge Companions is IP-based, so simply click the link while connected to the school wifi; you can also download chapters as PDFs to read at home.

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The Cambridge Companion to Margaret Atwood

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Cambridge Core - European and World Literature: General Interest - The Cambridge Companion to Margaret Atwood

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After withdrawing from the EU, Britain is governed by a far-right nationalist party. Its flagship policy is the British Born edict, which allows only those born in Britain to live here. Everyone else is an "illegal", subject to immediate arrest and deportation. But an election is coming soon, and all the polls point to a big loss for the ruling party. 18-year-old Londoner Ash is wrestling with grief after the loss of his sister Sophie, who died in a tragic drug-related accident at a party. He meets Zara on a stalled tube train and immediately falls for her. But Zara has secrets: not only is she an "illegal", but she's the only person who knows the truth about Sophie's death. Associating with Zara could jeopardize Ash's future, and if Zara comes forward with what she knows about the night Sophie died, she'll have no future in Britain at all. The election could save them. Or will it only bring disaster?

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What does it mean to be human when you're part of the machine? Synners are synthesizers - not machines, but people. They take images from the brains of performers, and turn them into a form which can be packaged, sold and consumed. This book is set in a world where new technology spawns new crime before it hits the streets. In Synners,the line between technology and humanity is hopelessly slim; the human mind and the external landscape have fused to the point where any encounter with reality is incidental.

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BBC One 2018 documentary about how Margaret Atwood's life influenced her work

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...Been Warned! Alan Yentob meets writer Margaret Atwood in Toronto and discovers how a childhood in both the wilderness and the city shaped her. Contains some upsetting scenes. Also in HD. [S]

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BBC Four show in which Mary Beard interviews Atwood about her work, reflecting in particular on The Handmaid's Tale and The Testaments (2023)

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Mary Beard meets the acclaimed Canadian novelist Margaret Atwood. As her sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale – The Testaments – is published, in a wide-ranging encounter Mary talks to her about how Gilead…

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SkyArts documentary on the history of dystopian fiction and film

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Dystopia: With each passing era of reader, the predictions of writers from yesteryear are tested, sometimes capturing our greatest fears that make for perfect cinema. (S2, ep 1) [S,AD]

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The Martians and Us: Trouble in Paradise

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The Martians and Us: Trouble in Paradise

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Episode of a BBC series about the history of British SciFi focusing on dystopias - specifically, Brave New World and 1984

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Trouble in Paradise (Dystopias): Series about the history of British sci-fi. The utopian dreams and dystopian nightmares of books like Huxley's Brave New World and Orwell's 1984. [AD,S]

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[Read online] A woman uses her 'Red Card' to kill her husband.

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Red Card

by S. L. Gilbow

Late one April evening, Linda Jackson pulled a revolver from her purse and shot her husband through a large mustard stain in the center of his T-shirt. The official after incident survey concluded that almost all of Merry Valley approved of the shooting. Sixty-four percent of the townspeople even rated her target selection as "excellent." A few, however, criticized her, pointing out that shooting your husband is "a little too obvious" and "not very creative."

Dick Andrews, who had farmed the fertile soil around Merry Valley for over thirty years, believed that Larry Jackson more than anyone else in town, needed to be killed. "I never liked him much," he wrote in the additional comments section of the incident survey. "He never seemed to have a good word to say about anybody."

"Excellent use of a bullet," scrawled Jimmy Blanchard. Born and raised in Merry Valley, he had known Larry for years and had even graduated from high school with him. "Most overbearing person I've ever met. He deserved what he got. I'm just not sure why it took so long."

Of course, a few people made waves. Jenny Collins seemed appalled. "I can hardly believe it," she wrote. "We used to be much more discerning about who we killed, and we certainly didn't go around flaunting it the way Linda does." Jenny was the old-fashioned kind.

Linda would never have called her actions "flaunting it." Of course she knew what to do after shooting Larry. She had read The Enforcement Handbook from cover to cover six times, poring over it to see if she had missed anything, scrutinizing every nuance. She had even committed some of the more important passages to memory: Call the police immediately after executing an enforcement-Always keep your red card in a safe, dry place-Never reveal to anyone that you have a red card-Be proud; you're performing an important civic duty.

But flaunting it? No, Linda blended in better than anyone in town, rarely talked and never called attention to herself. She spent most of her days at the Merry Valley Public Library, tucked between rows of antique shelves, alone, organizing a modest collection of old books. In the evening she fixed dinner. After Larry had eaten, cleaned up and left the house for "some time alone," Linda would lie in bed reading Jane Austen. No, Linda never flaunted anything-never had much to flaunt.

After she shot her husband, Linda returned the revolver to her purse and collapsed onto her oversized couch. She then picked up the telephone, set it in her lap, and tugged at her long, pale bangs-a nervous habit that drove Larry crazy. She had once considered cutting them to make him happy, but Sarah Hall from across the street had commented on how nice they looked. "They really bring out your eyes," Sarah had said. "They make you look as pretty as a princess."

Linda would never have called herself pretty, but she always looked as nice as she could. Her makeup-tasteful and modest-came straight off of page twenty-seven of the current issue of Truly Beautiful. She applied her eyeliner, mascara, lipstick and blush precisely according to the instructions, copying every detail of the model's face, framing each eye with two delicate, taupe lines. But she realized she could do no better than pass as the model's homely cousin.

Linda let go of her bangs, lifted the receiver and dialed a number from a yellow sticker plastered across the phone; the sticker doubled as an ad for Bob's Pizza Heaven, so she dialed carefully.

"Merry Valley Police Department."

"I'd like to report an enforcement," said Linda.

"Linda?"

"Yes," she replied, trying to recognize the voice.

"This is Officer Hamilton."

"Oh, thank goodness," she said, unable to hide her relief. She admired Officer Hamilton. Once, while making his usual patrol through Merry Valley, he had pulled over to help her carry two bags of groceries, heavy with the dead weight of frozen meat and canned vegetables. He was probably just fighting boredom, but she still appreciated the help. You rarely found that kind of service anymore.

Linda paused, wondered what tone to strike, and settled on matter-of-fact. "I've just shot someone. The Enforcement Handbook says I'm supposed to call you."

"That's right," said Officer Hamilton. "Chapter three, I think. Who did you shoot?"

"My husband."

"Is he dead?" he asked.

Linda studied Larry, sensitive to any movement, the slightest twitch. "He's not moving." she said. "He hasn't moved since I shot him."

"How many times did you shoot him?"

"Once," she said.

"I'd recommend you shoot him one more time just to be sure," said Officer Hamilton.

"No," said Linda, "I'm sure he's dead enough." The Enforcement Handbook recommended at least two shots, but the thought of shooting Larry again bothered Linda. The first shot hadn't been easy, in spite of what the handbook said.

"Fine then, but you'll need to come down to the station to fill out the paperwork."

"Of course," she said. "Do I need to call someone to pick him up?" The handbook hadn't mentioned how to remove the body.

"We'll take care of that," said Officer Hamilton. "Just come down to the station and don't forget to bring your red card. You do have a red card, don't you?"

"I do," she said.

"Wonderful," said Officer Hamilton.

"And I'll bring the revolver," she said, paraphrasing a portion from chapter two of the handbook.

"And any spare ammunition you didn't use," said Officer Hamilton. "We can reissue it with the card."

Linda hung up, set the phone on the floor, and rose from the couch. She looked at Larry, and the longer she looked at him the more she expected him to move; it seemed so unnatural for him to be so still, so silent-he had always been in motion. Early in their courtship she pictured him as a hummingbird-a large, gawky hummingbird-but lately she saw him as something else-perhaps a mongoose.

"Larry," she said without taking her eyes off him. She wondered if she should follow Officer Hamilton's advice and shoot him again. But there was no movement, no sound. She thought he looked like he was asleep, but then she remembered the constant rolling and snoring that marked his nights. No second shot would be needed.

Linda felt an urge to wash. She stepped around Larry's body, crossed the living room and passed through the spare bedroom into the bathroom. Linda filled the sink with warm water, adding a delightful mixture of strawberry and watermelon soap. The crimson color had never bothered her before, but now she braced herself as she plunged her hands into the water. She scrubbed her hands for more than minute; it seemed like the right thing to do.

After she dried her hands on a monogrammed towel, Linda went to her bedroom. Larry and Linda referred to it as the "spare bedroom," but it was the one room Linda had all to herself, her refuge from Larry when he got wild-even wilder than usual. The room became her sanctuary, and Larry rarely entered it. Not that Linda forbade him to do so. It's just that Linda had filled it with things that made him uncomfortable. A large four-poster bed dominated the center of the room. On top of the bed were a handmade quilt, a pile of embroidered throw pillows, and a stuffed animal Larry had given to Linda years ago. Linda called the animal "Sally Cat" but lately had considered the possibility that it might be a ferret. Beside the bed stood an antique vanity bordered by two windows, each framed with lace curtains adorned with a delicate tea rose pattern. The room radiated Linda; there was nothing about Larry in it.

Linda scanned her closet and filtered through a row of clothes she had worn only once-a wedding dress, a pink prom dress, and an evening gown. She finally settled on a gathered lavender dress. She had once worn it to The Merry Valley Bistro, the one restaurant in town Linda looked forward to. Larry criticized her for being overdressed, and she hadn't worn the dress since. But tonight it seemed right-the lavender dress and a matching pair of high heeled shoes. Linda wasn't sure who might be at the police station, but crowds had a way of forming in Merry Valley, and she wanted to be presentable. "Besides," she thought, "there's no chance of Larry objecting."

When she finished dressing, Linda gathered the red card, the government revolver, and the last two rounds of ammunition, and dropped them into her purse. She checked her makeup in the vanity mirror and then, deciding she was in no mood to drive, called a taxi.

She opened the front door, paused, and surveyed the living room one last time. "Damn it, Larry," she said. "I gave you fair warning."

Linda stepped into the dark night of a new moon. Her outdoor light had burned out weeks ago, but the porch light on Sarah Hall's house across the street blazed like a beacon, allowing Linda to navigate her steps safely. Sarah, swaying in time to a big band tune coming from her living room, deadheaded flowers that grew in large pots that framed her house. She was a large, nocturnal woman with a strong jaw and an unmistakable silhouette.

As Linda neared the street, Sarah was attracted by the unexpected movement and gave a friendly wave. Linda wished she hadn't been noticed, but if she had to deal with anyone tonight, besides the police-which at this point seemed inevitable-it might as well be Sarah. Linda liked Sarah and believed Sarah liked her too. She liked the way she complimented her bangs; she liked the cheesecakes she occasionally brought over; she liked her sisterly advice. Often Linda would call Sarah when Larry acted up. "You should get help," Sarah would say. Linda would agree and then tell her how she was starting to get things under control, how she and Larry were going to work things out with just a little more time, but Linda knew that the time needed to work things out with Larry was most aptly measured in geological terms.

Linda stopped between two small pear trees to wait for the taxi. She stooped under one and felt the soil-she would need to water it tomorrow. Larry had purchased the trees on the way back from their honeymoon five years ago. The trees were the only fond memory she had of that week.

Larry had surprised her with a Caribbean cruise, although Linda thought they had decided to go to New York. They spent two days in the Bahamas, but Linda refused to count it as one of the places she had actually visited since she never left the ship.

"You ever been on a cruise before?" Larry asked as they entered their suite.

The question surprised Linda. Surely they had discussed cruises in the five months they had known each other. She thought for a moment, but no such conversation came to mind. "No," she said, "this will be my first time."

"You're going to love it here," he said.

But she didn't. Within two hours she was heaving into the toilet.

"You should give it more of a chance," Larry said.

"I'll try," she said.

"It's all in your attitude."

"I think I'm feeling a little better," she whispered, trying to prove him right. Then she grabbed the rim of the toilet and vomited again.

Larry spent the rest of their honeymoon pacing the ship's deck. Occasionally, between doses of Dramamine, Linda would look out the cabin window. She had never seen so much water. Larry refused to join her, refused to eat with her, refused to talk to her. He had decided to boycott any activity that included Linda.

Linda stood under the pear tree until the taxi arrived. As it pulled over, Sarah dropped her pruning sheers and dashed across the street.

"Sarah, I would love to talk but I need to go."

"I would say so." Sarah opened the taxi door and slid into the back seat; she waved for Linda to join her. Linda crawled in.

"Just tell me, dear," said Sarah, "why did you shoot him?"

"Where to?" asked the driver.

"The police station," said Linda.

The taxi sped into the night.

Linda stared out the window as the simple homes of Merry Valley slipped by. She felt Sarah's strong hands grab her arm and pull her close. "Now don't you worry," said Sarah. "You're not worried, are you?"

"A little," admitted Linda.

"There's nothing to it. Really. I had a cousin once who used a red card, and he said it was the easiest thing he ever did."

"Who'd he use it on?" asked Linda.

"I don't remember. It's been years. At least five and it wasn't around here."

"He said it was easy?"

"I think he shot a speeder. He always hated careless drivers."

Linda buried her face into the fat flesh of Sarah's right arm. She wanted to cry. The handbook had mentioned this-Shooter's Regret. It will pass, the handbook stated, just trust your decision, trust your instincts.

"When I was young, I used to drive around with my cousin," said Sarah. "He would yell at people all the time. Yell at them for going too slow, for going too fast, for cutting him off. I wasn't surprised when I heard he had used a red card."

"It wasn't easy," said Linda.

"Think he got an award for it. Used the card the same week he got it. A lot of people like to see the cards circulate. Lets more people take part in the system."

"How'd you know I used a red card?"

"Why, dear, I heard it on the radio. They broke into 'Phil's Follies.' There's nothing as exciting as one of the cards being used."

"I guess," said Linda. She didn't mind excitement; she just didn't want the excitement to revolve around her.

By the time Linda and Sarah arrived at the police station, a small crowd had already gathered. Sarah wrapped an arm around Linda and pulled her close. "OK, dear, you ready for this?"

Linda nodded.

"You stay by me," she snapped with authority. Linda pulled in close for protection.

Linda recognized several faces in the crowd-Jerry Miles, Freddy Nevers, and Ann Davidson. She knew them well enough to carry on casual conversation at The Happy Druggist-Jerry's store-or Mel's Fill'em Up where Freddy and Ann worked. There were also half a dozen people not quite as familiar to her, but she had seen them all around town at one time or another.

Freddy Nevers called her name, and Jerry Miles even shouted a little encouragement: "Way to go!"

Deputy Williams met Linda and Sarah at the entrance to the police station and escorted them to the reception counter. At one point, Jerry, excited at having his monotonous evening livened up a little, dashed toward Linda to congratulate her, but Deputy Williams reached out and shoved him back. Linda gave the deputy an appreciative glance. "Where were you when I needed you?" she thought.

Barry Giles, lead reporter for Channel Seven, moved as close to Linda as he could, microphone in hand, ready to broadcast the details to all of Merry Valley. "How did it happen, Mrs. Jackson?" he called out.

Linda started to answer, but the deputy interrupted in a low forceful voice he saved for his most serious duties. "There'll be time for that later."

Officer Hamilton was waiting for Linda behind a mahogany reception desk. Linda pulled a revolver out of her purse and laid it gently in front of him. After Officer Hamilton confirmed the revolver to be official government property, the crowd, giving Linda some space out of politeness while inching forward out of curiosity, waited for the inevitable. Linda reached into her purse and pulled out the red card. The card didn't seem special. It was small, only half the size of a postcard, with rounded corners and a smooth edge. The one mark on it was an ordinary bar code.

"Son of a gun," said Barry.

"Killed by a librarian with a red card," said Jerry. "That's got to be embarrassing."

"I knew she had it," said a voice Linda didn't recognize.

"Like hell you did," came a muffled response.

Officer Hamilton slid the card under an electronic reader and, with a nod, confirmed its authenticity.

"How long you been holding it?" asked someone from the crowd.

Officer Hamilton checked the reading. "Four years," he said, impressed at Linda's self-restraint. The crowd nodded its approval.

"My goodness," said Barry. "Most of the other tickets have been circulating a lot faster than that."

"Sure have," said Officer Hamilton.

"How long have they been out?" Barry asked.

"A couple have been out for almost a year and one for about nine months. I'm not sure about the other two. I'd have to look it up."

"Looks like another one's going back into circulation," someone said. The crowd hummed with excitement.

Officer Hamilton led Linda away from the crowd. Linda glanced back at Sarah who signaled that she would be in the waiting room, an unimpressive area set off by grey partitions. It contained little more than four chairs, a television dangling from the ceiling, and two ash trays. "Thanks," mouthed Linda.

They ended up in a small, secluded room in the back of the station. Linda took her place in a wooden chair behind an aging table. On a corner shelf stood a drip coffeepot containing the last few drops after a long day.

Officer Hamilton held up a Styrofoam cup. "Coffee? Looks like there's enough for one more cup."

"No thanks," said Linda. She could have actually used a cup of coffee, but not from that pot.

Officer Hamilton sat in the chair across from Linda. "Well," he said, "The enforcement isn't over . . ."

"Until the paperwork's done," finished Linda, quoting the handbook. "This is the hard part, isn't it?"

"There's no hard part," he said. "It's all easy." He smiled, placed an official looking form on the table and put on a pair of bifocals. He read the form quickly to himself, vocalizing a few key phrases, orienting himself on how to proceed.

"Are you ready?" he finally asked. Linda nodded.

"What is your name?"

Linda gave him a "you've got to be kidding me" look.

"These are standard questions, Linda. Just humor me."

"Linda Jackson."

"Gender?"

Linda didn't even answer. "Female," said Officer Hamilton in response to his own question. "Marital Status?"

"Widowed," said Linda.

"Oh yes," he said. "That's kind of why we're here, isn't it."

"It is."

"Where did you execute the enforcement?"

"In my living room."

"Why did you execute the enforcement?"

"Is that important?" asked Linda.

"We track these things for statistical purposes."

"I think the real question should be why didn't I do it sooner."

"Why didn't you? You've had the red card for almost four years."

"I don't know. At first I didn't want to use it because then I wouldn't have one. But later it just became a challenge."

"A challenge?"

"Sometimes he would egg me on, dare me to use it."

"He knew you had a red card?"

Linda wasn't sure how to answer this. She knew she wasn't supposed to tell Larry about the red card.

"Just answer honestly," said Officer Hamilton. "You have nothing to worry about. You performed an enforcement while in possession of a valid red card. That's it. It's that simple. These questions are just to help us improve the program."

"He knew," said Linda. "He's known for years. It was a mistake to tell him because then he would test me. It was like Russian roulette."

Officer Hamilton made a quick note.

"Is that alright? Am I in trouble?"

"Well some people view it as having an unfair advantage over other citizens. But in this case it doesn't seem to have made a difference."

"But it should have made a difference." Linda looked at Officer Hamilton and wondered if she was getting through to him. She wanted to tell him how things were supposed to be different, how they were supposed to get better, slowly, incrementally, but better. Her plans were never to kill Larry but to keep him alive, to keep him alive forever. "It should have made a big difference," she said. "He knew I had a card."

"Had he been drinking?"

"He'd been out messing around. He always seemed to be going someplace."

"Why did you shoot him?" asked Officer Hamilton, trying the question one more time.

"I really don't know," said Linda. "I think I just snapped."

"Linda," he said. His eyes narrowed. "People with red cards are allowed to snap. It's their duty to snap."

Officer Hamilton pressed on with questions for almost half an hour. How did you feel? Where did you keep your card? Did the handbook prepare you for your role as an enforcer? Linda answered as best she could, but she was ready for it all to end.

Finally, Officer Hamilton put down his pencil. "That's it," he said.

"Really?"

"That wasn't so bad was it?"

"Not too bad. Anything else?"

"Just a word of advice," said Officer Hamilton. "If you ever get another red card, don't tell anyone. I don't even know who has them. The program is random and anonymous. That's what makes it work. If you start taking those factors out, the program loses its effectiveness."

"Of course," she said, a little embarrassed at having made such a careless mistake.

Officer Hamilton released Linda and led her to the hallway out. "Do you need a ride?" he asked.

"I'll go back with Sarah," she said. "I could use a restroom though."

In the restroom, Linda checked herself in the mirror. Her lipstick had faded from the right side of her upper lip, and black mascara crept up towards her eyebrow. Her blush had cracked except for the glow on her nose. The night had been hard on her face; she looked old and tired. She freshened her lipstick, brushed her hair, and killed the shine on her nose. It seemed futile. She would need to check Truly Beautiful for a look that could hold up better.

Linda left the restroom and walked down the long hall to join Sarah in the waiting area. She paused at the end of the hall, dwarfed by the grey partitions that separated the waiting area from the rest of the police station. She could hear voices, several of them, mingling, Sarah's dominant among them.

Linda looked above the partition and saw a small television, muted and pathetic, hanging from the ceiling. The television's color had shifted long ago, and a bald, blue man in a sweater dispensed advice. She thought she might have seen him before. He seemed vaguely familiar. Was his name Richard? She wasn't sure, but he seemed like a Richard to her. Maybe it wasn't advice; he could be warning her about something, some disaster, some great flood.

"Well I know what I'll do if I get the card next," she heard Jerry Miles say.

"Shoot yourself?" asked Freddy Nevers.

"Never mind, I just changed my plan," cackled Jerry.

"Well, if either of you get a card, let me know," said Sarah. "You tend to live a lot longer if you know who has the cards."

Richard now held a green spray bottle. He was selling something. Of course. Why advise or warn when you can sell. Linda decided to wait until the conversation settled down a little more before joining Sarah. Conversations tended to die once Linda entered into them.

"I never know who has the cards," said Jerry.

"I try to make it my business," said Sarah. "I try to make everything my business." She spit out the words as if they were rehearsed.

Richard, energetic and passionate now, waved the bottle about in his left hand. He held up a shirt and sprayed it. Linda moved closer to the television, but she couldn't tell if the spray had any effect. Richard sprayed the bottle on the floor and then on himself. He was obviously proud of its versatility. He looked straight at Linda and urged her to buy his product. She needed it. She needed to have what he was selling.

"What about Linda?" asked Jerry.

"I've known Linda for years," said Sarah. "Her husband too."

"I knew her," said Freddy.

"But not like I knew her, dear."

Linda hated to interrupt; Sarah seemed to be enjoying herself. She wondered what it would be like to enjoy yourself. Linda continued to watch the commercial, one of those long ones, one of those that could go on for five minutes. Richard had toned down the sell and appeared to be whispering, enunciating every word. He had two bottles now, one cradled under each arm, and he was talking to Linda, directly to Linda, only to Linda.

"Well, she shops at my store," said Jerry. "Buys a lot of makeup. Careful shopper. Always did like her."

"Sweetheart, you have to like someone who has a red card," said Sarah. "Kind of dangerous not to."

"How would I have known she had a red card?" asked Jerry.

"I knew," said Sarah.

"You knew she had a red card?"

"Of course she had the card."

"I suspected, but I was never sure," said a voice Linda didn't recognize. He seemed to be acting more important than he actually was.

"I've known it for years. I'm surprised you all didn't know." Sarah paused for effect. "Oh, I forgot, you all weren't sleeping with her husband?" The crowd laughed. "Well, I guess I won't have to like her anymore," said Sarah.

Richard made his final plea. Under him flashed a phone number, barely legible, followed by the words, "Miracle Madness, for when clean isn't clean enough." Linda listened for the conversation to continue, but it had stalled. Even Sarah was silent.

Linda pulled back into the hall, found a phone near the ladies' restroom, and called the toll free number.

"I want to place an order," said Linda.

"Which product?"

"Miracle Madness."

"Oh, you are going to love it. And with that you get Miracle Madness Plus."

After Linda had provided her billing information, she joined Sarah and the others in the waiting room. "Sarah," she said as she rounded the partition, "I'm all done now."

"Wonderful," said Sarah. "You've had a hard day and it's time to get you home."

When the taxi dropped them off at Linda's place well after midnight, Sarah was in full motion, feeding off the energy of the evening. Linda had been quiet during the drive home, but she didn't need to speak since Sarah had rambled on without stopping. Sarah had pretty well resolved most of Linda's problems. She had told her how to improve her career-after all you can't stay a librarian your entire life. She had told her how to improve her looks-those bangs just have to go; they do absolutely nothing for you. She had told her how to improve her general disposition-you have got to stop moping about.

Finally Linda asked, "What do I do now?"

"What do you mean?"

"The handbook never talked about this part. I don't know what to do next."

"Well," said Sarah, "tomorrow we need to plan Mr. Jackson's funeral. I guess that would be next."

"Of course," said Linda.

"Then we bury him, and then you get on with your life."

"We need to plan a funeral," said Linda.

"Now don't be afraid to call if you need anything," said Sarah as they entered the house. "Really. Anything at all."

"Anything?"

"Absolutely. Whatever you need."

"Can I stay with you?" asked Linda.

"Stay with me?"

Linda nodded.

"At my house?"

"For a while. At least a day or two. Longer if I could."

"You really need to get back on your feet," said Sarah. "This is your home and it doesn't do any good to run from it. This is your place."

"My place," said Linda. She stood over the spot where Larry had lain. Now that he was gone, the room seemed much more open, almost cavernous.

Sarah joined her. "Is this it?" she asked.

"He fell right here next to the coffee table," replied Linda.

"They really are quite efficient. The enforcement program is run so well."

"It is," agreed Linda, noticing that even the blood had been cleaned up. All that remained was a small stain, barely noticeable, no worse than the tea spill on the other side of the room. But Linda would get all the stains out, the blood, the tea, everything. After all, Miracle Madness was on its way.

"I can stay for a bit," said Sarah, turning on the television. She folded onto the couch, pried her shoes off, and clicked through channels looking for the television version of "Phil's Follies."

"Stay for as long you can," said Linda. "I'll be with you in a moment. After I change." The lavender dress was beginning to weigh on her.

In her bedroom, Linda slipped off her high heels and set them in her closet. She then pulled off her dress and hung it neatly on a padded hanger. She lay down on her bed, closed her eyes, and folded her hands over her face. She exhaled, bathing her eyes and nose in the warmth of her own breath. She opened her mouth and made a guttural sound that echoed off her cupped hands.

She rolled onto her stomach, grabbed her stuffed cat, Sally, and pulled her close. She wanted to be a cat. No, a ferret, she would rather be a ferret. Linda slid off the bed and crouched on her hands and knees, almost feral. She could sleep here. She could sleep on the carpet once it was clean. That would be soon; Miracle Madness was coming.

"When clean isn't clean enough," she moaned.

Linda reached under the bed and felt around blindly. She pulled out a shoe box adorned with a lavender bow-a beautiful bow she had tied nine months earlier. She loved tying bows and she was proud of this one, bold and perfectly proportioned. Lavender-she loved lavender. Linda untied the bow and carefully slid the ribbon off the box. She opened the box, pulled out a red card and a small revolver, and finally cried for the first time that night.

About the Author

About the Narrator

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by S. L. Gilbow Late one April evening, Linda Jackson pulled a revolver from her purse and shot her husband through a large mustard stain in the center of his T-shirt. The official after incident survey concluded that almost all of Merry Valley approved of the shooting.

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[Read online] 'I take the empty injector and bring it to my neck. I hit the trigger and stab and hope maybe I’ll get something. I hit the trigger again.' Ben isn't optimised, unlike most of his classmates...

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"Suck one and die," says Scotty, a tall, mostly-true, kid. "I'm aggressive 'cause I think you don't know shit."

We're in HowItWas class.

"Well," Mr. Harper says, twisting his ugly body toward us, "you should shut your mouth because you're a youth-teen who doesn't know shit about shit, and I'm a full-middler who's been teaching this stuff for more years than I'm proud of."

"Understood," says Scotty.

Then Mr. Harper went back to talking about the time before the Turn, which came after the Big Quick War, which came after the Long Big War. I was thinking about going to the nurse for some pre-lunch Good. I do bad at school because sometimes I think when I should be learning.

"So after the Big Quick," Mr. Harper continues in his bored voice, "science and philosopher guys realized that people had been living wrong the whole time before. Sacrificing themselves, their efficiency, and their wants. This made a world of distrust and misfortune, which led to both Big Wars."

"Back then, everyone was a liar. It was so bad that it would not have been uncommon for people to tell Samantha," Mr. Harper points a finger at Samantha, who sits next to me, "that she was beautiful, even though, obviously, she is hideous." Samantha nods her ugly head showing she understands. Her face is squished so bad she's always looking in two different directions. Sometimes, kids who get pre-birth opti-selected come out all messed up. Samantha is "unoptimal." That's the official name for people like her, whose optimization screwed up and made their bodies horrible. I don't have any gene corrections. I wasn't optimized at all. I am not optimal or ideal. But I'm also not unoptimal, so I wasn't going to look like Samantha, which is good. It's not all good though, since no opti-select means no chance of being perfect either. I don't care. I'm true. I'm proud, still. Looking over, being nosy 'cause sometimes I do that, I see Samantha log into her class pad: I would have been pretty/beautiful.

"Or," and now Mr. Harper is looking at me. I can feel him thinking me into an example. "Back then a teacher might've told Ben, who we know is a dummy, that he was smart or that if he would just apply himself, he'd do better." The class laughs 'cause they think a world where I'm smart is hee-haw. In my head, I think, Mr. Harper, do you think that back then students would think you were something other than a fat, ugly skin sack? Then I say, "Mr. Harper, do you think back then students would think you were something other than a fat, ugly skin sack?"

"I don't know what they'd say about me," Mr. Harper says. "Probably that it was a great thing that I was a teacher and that my life didn't suck. Anything else, Ben?" I start to say something else about how they must have really, really liked lying to say Mr. Harper was a good teacher, but I don't say that out loud because even though I'm being true, they'd say I was being emotional and it was clouding my truth.

"I understand," I say.

Being emotional isn't prideful, and being truthful, prideful, and intelligent are the best things. I'm truthful and prideful as best as I can be. Emotional truth-clouding was the main thing that led to the Long Big War and the Big Quick War.

Together they're called the Water Wars because of how the Federation Forces lied to its own people about the how the Amalgamation had poisoned the water reservoirs. The result was catastrophic/horrific. Then, since the people of the old Federation were mad because of their own truth-clouding, they kept on warring for years and years, and the old Federation became the New Federation that stands proudly today. Later on, when the Amalgamation of Allies suspected a key reservoir had been poisoned, they asked the New Federation if they'd done it. In a stunning act of graciousness and honesty, my New Federation ancestors told the truth, said, "Yeah, we did poison that reservoir," and in doing so, saved many, many lives, which were later more honorably destroyed via nuclear. The wars going on now, Valid Storm Alpha and the True Freedom Campaign, are valid/true wars because we know we aren't being emotional fighting them.

"Class, please scroll to chapter forty-one and take it in," Mr. Harper says. The class touches their note-screens. The chapter is thirty-eight pages. I don't even try to read it. I look at some chapter videos of people doing things they used to do: a man throws three balls into the air, a woman in a dress spins on one leg. After three minutes the class is done reading the chapter. Their SpeedRead ™ chips make reading easy/quick for them. SpeedRead ™ lets optimized people take in words faster than I can hardly see them. Since I'm a clear-born, I look while they read. I read the chapters on my own later. But even staring at the videos and pictures is better than some can do. Samantha can't hardly look at her screen. And then there's Nick and Raphy who are the class shoelookers. All they do is cry and moan. They were both optimized and still became shoelookers. Being emotional is all they are and it means they aren't good for anything. I'm glad Samantha and Nick and Raphy are in the class. Because of them I'm not bottom/last in learning and I don't wanna be overall bottom/last at all.

After they've read the chapters, Mr. Harper goes back to talking about how untrue the lives people used to live were. We've all heard about the times before the Turn, but hearing Mr. Harper, who is a teacher and, hopefully, not a complete ass/idiot, talk about all the untruths people used to think were regular makes me proud to be from now and not then. Still, I mostly only half-listen 'cause I'm thinking.

When the horn goes off and it's time for rotation, I hang back so I can speak truth to Mr. Harper.

"Mr. Harper," I say.

"What, Ben?"

"Today, during a lot of your session, I was thinking about beating you to death with a rock."

"Hmm, why?"

"I don't know. I'm not a brain-healer."

"If you don't know, how would I? Go to the nurse if you want."

I walk toward the nurse's office. On the way there I see three shoelookers together in front of one of our school's war monuments: a glass case holding a wall with the nuclear shadows of our dead enemies on it. Two of the shoelookers cry and the third paces between the other two, biting his nails. Marlene is near them. Marlene is my sibling. She is five cycles older than I am and training to be a NumbersPlusTaxes teacher.

Marlene is also the reason I was not given a pre-birth opti-selection. When Marlene was opti-selected all her personality points attached to only one personality paradigm and made her a Para-one, a person who's only about one thing. There are all kinds of paradigms, like Intelligence, Conscientiousness or Extraversion. OptiLife ™ releases different personality packages people can pay for all the time. My parents are successful enough to get a standard package of seven points to spread across a few paradigms. That's what they wanted for Marlene: a balanced, successful person. But all seven of the points that could have gone toward her being a bunch of different stuff all went to one paradigm. Ambition. And that much of anything makes you a freak/the worst. But some companies like Learning Inc. like people like Marlene. She is a good worker. She is good at getting things she wants. It's all she does. Get things.

When Marlene was six and I was still a crying bag of poop, my parents had to convince her that having a younger brother would actually help her be a good teacher because she could practice information transfer on me. They also told her that I, as a clear-born, could never be in competition with her in life or their hearts, after they caught her trying to smother me with a pillow. They tell that story and laugh about it now.

After Marlene, my parents decided optimizing me wasn't worth the risk. When I was younger, she used to force me to read books for hours. She tried to make me remember things, and when I couldn't, she would slap me or pull my hair or twist my fingers. When I cheated, and she didn't notice, she would hug me and squeeze so tight I couldn't breathe. She'd kiss my forehead. When I got old enough to really be in school, and didn't do well there either, Marlene gave up on me. "No one can make a diamond out of a turd," she said.

"Got it, Marlene," I said.

"Diamonds are actually made from-"

"I don't care, Marlene."

I'm proof she isn't the perfect teacher and she hates me for it.

How I feel about Marlene: she could keel over plus die and I'd be happy plus ecstatic.

She has two cups of water in her hands. She looks at me quickly, then pours a cup of water onto the heads of each of the crying shoelookers. "Wet the Wetter" is a game people play with shoelookers sometimes. People like to trip them or pour water on the heads of criers 'cause they won't do anything back and it's humorous. The two shoelookers are crying harder than ever now but not moving. Water drip, drips from their heads and clothes.

"Ben," Marlene says, "isn't it your lunch section?"

"Yes," I say.

"This isn't the food sector."

"I understand."

"I am inquiring because your ability to move effectively through an academic space reflects upon my own person," Marlene says. I look at the empty glasses in her hands.

"I am me and you are you. I don't care what reflects on you," I say.

"You know this school will be mine in the future." she says. "Even you should understand that." Marlene always talks about how she will take the school over, how she'll be such a good teacher that everything will be hers.

"Okay. Don't talk to me," I say loudly. "Para-one," I say much more softly because she's scary. Marlene comes close to me. The shoelookers drip. The dry one paces back and forth.

"What'd you say?" Marlene asks. I don't say anything. I look at her eyes that always look the same, always searching for something to push over and stomp. Marlene backs off and lets me go. She walks away laughing at the wet shoelookers, and at me, I guess.

Shoelookers don't really do anything to anybody except make them proud to be themselves and not a no-good shoelooker. People say if you tell a lot of lies, eventually you start being all depressed and weepy like them. The shoelookers don't feel anything but sad. They feel it so much you can see it in everything they do. They're always looking at the ground.

I walk to the nurse in big steps. Everybody gets their mandatory Good in the mornings with breakfast at school, but they have extra at the nurse's. I go to the nurse because Good makes me feel good. When I have Good it's easy to be proud and truthful and to ignore the things that cloud my truth like Marlene, or being made into an example, or knowing I'll never be perfect.

The nurse, Ms. Higgins, is shaped like an old pear. Her body type is not attractive. She isn't in a union and doesn't have any kids because she's ugly and works as a school nurse. Today her face looks tired plus more tired. I prefer Ms. Higgins. Ms. Higgins looks at me, pulls her injector from her desk. There are vials of fresh Good on a shelf behind her.

It's quiet, so I talk. "Why don't you quit if you hate it here so much?" I ask as she screws the Good into the injector gun.

"Because I need credits," she says. She steps to me. I stretch my neck out for her and close my eyes. She puts one hand on one side of my neck. Her hand is warm plus strong. She stabs the injector needle in. My head feels the way an orange tastes. I open my eyes and look at her. She waits. I look at her more. She frowns, then gives me another shot. And then I feel Good.

"Bye," I say to Ms. Higgins. She sweeps the air with her fingers, like, be gone.

On the way to my usual foodbreak table, I walk past a table of shoelookers whispering to themselves. A few are crying. Shoelookers-if they're good for anything, it's crying. I laugh 'cause the Good is going full blast and it's funny how the shoelookers just don't have a chance. How they're so down that even Good doesn't help them much.

At my table Scotty, John and some others are laughing, but I don't know why, so I feel mildly frustrated.

"Oh hey, Ben, we were so worried. Please have a seat," says John. I sit down next to him. "How are you feeling today?" Scotty asks, and I feel even more frustrated 'cause I think they're using me for humor because I needed extra Good instead of just the mandatory breakfast Good. "We care," Scotty says, making his voice like a bird. The table laughs. I look around, then I relax 'cause I catch on to things, and I can see that they're making fun of how things used to be, and not me.

"Why, thank you for asking," I say. "I'm doing great." They laugh more, and it feels great. All the laughing at the table.

"Please take my drink because you look thirsty and 'cause you're a really smart guy," Scotty says and everybody laughs even harder. "Catch, Ben," Scotty says as he tosses a box drink. I don't move to catch it fast enough 'cause I'm thinking: I just got Good from the nurse, and already I'm feeling things other than good, which isn't how it works.

The drink box goes over my hand and smacks Leslie McStowe right in the head.

She drops her tray and her food. Leslie frowns. I laugh with everybody else. Leslie was a twin, then her brother, Jimmy, died. Jimmy was a shoelooker who cooked his head in a food zapper. Leslie is always telling lies about how great things are or how nice everyone looks and how everybody is special. Leslie McStowe is one of the least truthful people around, which is frustrating because she and I scanned high for compatibility on our genetic compatibility charts. Probably because we're both clear-borns. Leslie's parents have protested against the Opti-Life ™. They don't believe in perfect. I believe in it-I just hate it.

Leslie stands there looking lost and stupid. I want more laughs, so I stand up and make my mouth a big, huge smile and say, "Sorry about that, Leslie, let me use my credit to get you a new lunch." The table goes crazy. I have a lot of credits because my mother and father are successful, which I benefit from. Leslie's face goes from Ow to all smiles as she looks at me. Then she says, "That's so nice of you." It's a surprising thing to hear 'cause no one has said it to me before. The table is wild/crazy, which makes me proud. I keep it going. "C'mon, let's get you another lunch," I say in a voice I imagine would have been regular a long time ago.

Leslie McStowe follows me into the food part of the cafeteria. "Those people are idiots," my mother said once. She wasn't talking about the McStowes specifically, but a bunch of people that were giving away candy and flowers to strangers on the newscast. The McStowes and the people my mother called idiots are part of the Anti. They're anti-Good, anti-prebirth science, anti-progress. At my school I can count the number of anti-families on my hands. But there are a lot of them in worse parts of the Federation.

"Get whatever you want," I say, even though the guys at the table can't hear me over here.

"Thanks so much!" Leslie says. When she smiles it looks like somebody scooped holes in her cheeks 'cause of her dimples. She grabs a juice and a greens bowl and that's it. I register my credit code into the machine for her and she smiles at the lunch man who doesn't say anything. "Have a great day," I say to him because I'm still doing the thing I was doing. He stares. When we come back to the main part of the cafeteria, I'm expecting a bunch of laughs. No one at the table notices. They're eating now. I feel frustrated.

"Thanks, Benny, you're such a sweetie," Leslie says. I want to let her know the whole thing was for laughs, but then I don't, because I'm thinking. I sit down, and Leslie goes to sit with the shoelookers, though she herself is not a shoelooker. I think, maybe I should have been truthful and reminded her about the fact that her face is arranged nicely, so she would remember we scanned as compatible and might eventually be part of a workable, functional familiar unit with me.

Everybody has their own room in our housing unit. I have a mother and a father, and there's Marlene. In my room, I do physical maintenance like push-ups and leg pushes and then I read the chapters from school until I smell food. I go downstairs where my mother and father and sibling are all at a table chewing.

"What are you looking at me for?" I ask.

"I received a message saying you've been taking extra Good," my father says.

I take a bowl from the washer and I push the button that makes the cooker front slide open. I put a spoon in. I feel the hot inside the box. I fill the bowl with meat and grains from the cooker. "Sometimes I need it. And why aren't you being truthful?" I say. "Marlene told you that." Marlene, since she's training at the school, knows stuff about me and what I do there.

"Don't accuse anyone of not being truthful," my mother says.

"I obscured the full truth because you have a tendency to respond emotionally, like some kind of neck-crane," says my father. Standing and staring at them, I dive my spoon into my bowl. I take a bite and chew. The grains and meat taste like grains and meat.

"I only pay attention because people still associate me with you," Marlene says. "Once I'm certified I won't be interested. Until then you are still a periphery reflection of my person."

Sometimes I imagine Marlene drowning in a tank of clear water.

"Okay, I've listened to you and now I'm frustrated," I say.

"We are also frustrated because people still associate you with us, even though we are our own successful individuals," my mother says.

"Not to mention the fact that your clear-birth was a mistake and you are only alive due to your mother's irrationality brought about by maternity," my father says. My mother looks at me, then my father, and then nods her head. "It's true, it's true," she says.

I drop my food on the floor and walk away. The bowl doesn't break. The food splats on the floor.

"Have some pride, Ben," my father says.

"You always say the same things. It's frustrating," I say from the hall so they can't see me. I squeeze my eyes shut so no water can come from them. I try to have some pride. "I know I was a mistake already, so I don't know why you mention it so often."

"It's because the fact that we didn't select genes during your pre-birth period almost certainly correlates to your being so slow and disappointing," my father calls, "and we're frustrated with you and tangentially ourselves as a result."

"I know all that," I say. I go to the bathroom. I grab the house injector from behind the mirror. I go to grab a vial of Good. There is none. I spin around like it will be in the air somewhere. Then I take a breath and close my eyes and close the mirror. I open it again slowly, hoping it will be different. It isn't. There is an injector, but no Good. I want to scream but don't. Instead I go to my room. I sit in the bed.

I try to sleep. All I do is sweat and feel hurt all around my body and in my head. It gets dark. By then I feel like death/poop. Deep into the night my mother comes into the room.

"You've been screaming," she says.

"I don't care if I've been disturbing you. I'm frustrated you hid our Good," I say from under the covers. I hear her step to me, she rips the covers away. She is frowning in the dark. She puts a hand on my face and turns it. Then she uses the injector in her hand and stabs it into my neck. She gives me three shots and the Good makes my teeth rattle. My mother's hand sits on my head for a while. Then she turns and leaves. And then everything feels so right and so fine that I fall asleep smiling.

At school I get my usual morning Good. And in HowItWas class we talk about before, again.

"So even though people said all these things and acted like everyone else was important there were still wars and hurting, which proves it was a time of lies," Mr. Harper says.

"But yesterday you said some frog crap about how some things were better and how it was easier in the old days," Scotty says.

"This is why you'll be a mid-level tasker at best," Mr. Harper says. "I said some people still believe that the old way was better. Some people still live the old way because they prefer it."

"I think those people are assjerks," Scotty says.

"No one cares what you think," Mr. Harper says, "though I agree with you."

"H-How dow know?" says Samantha, in her broken, deep voice. She is normally quiet. "Mahbe okay."

"Shut up, screw-face," Scotty says. He takes off his shoe and throws it at Samantha. It hits her and makes a thunk sound and then bounces off her head onto my desk. The class laughs. Mr. Harper laughs. Samantha tries to laugh. I stare at the shoe.

"See, here we have a teachable moment," Mr. Harper says. "Back before the turn, Scotty might not have been honest about how he expressed himself, and Samantha would go on thinking he thought what she said was smart."

I go straight to Ms. Higgins after class. When I get there she looks at me like I'm broken.

"You've been put on a Good restriction by your legal guardians," she says. I can see the vials behind her. I can almost feel them. Almost, but definitely not.

"I only need two," I say. "Even one shot, please."

"A formal restriction has-"

"I know," I yell. I turn around and leave.

The floors of the school are tan and white. I walk to lunch. It is hard to keep my head up 'cause I don't feel proud or Good at all.

When I get to the cafeteria I hear someone say, "Happy birthday." When I look up I see Leslie McStowe looking at me. She's sitting at a table with a bunch of sorry shoelookers. Then she stands and wraps her arms around me. "Happy birthday," she says again. I used to hide in my room and try to remember everything from whatever Marlene had given me to read so that I could get a hug like that after her tests. But this is the first one I've had in many cycles. I'm standing there thinking of how Leslie McStowe is strong plus soft. I can feel her breathing on my neck a little.

"It's your birthday," Leslie says. She is smiling at me. Her eyes seem excited/electronic.

"Oh," I say. I have seen fifteen cycles now.

"We scanned compatible, you know. It's in your charts," she says quickly, answering the question I was thinking.

"Oh."

"If you want, my parents would love to have you over to celebrate," she looks down at the floor, not like a shoelooker, but like she's ashamed. "They like celebrating things."

"I don't celebrate like that, or associate with you. Also, everyone thinks your parents are strange," I say.

"I know, but it would make us all really happy," she says. This, I realize, is exactly, what Mr. Harper was speaking of. Leslie McStowe wants me to make her happy, for no reason. I look at her and am lost in something that doesn't feel like pride or intellect or what truth should feel like. "Please," she says and hands me a paper that is an invitation for later in the day. I take the invitation and then I walk to the table where I normally sit with the people I usually associate with.

At home my familiar unit says things to me:

"Hello," my father says.

"You seem agitated," my mother says.

"You are now on the Good restriction list," Marlene says.

I don't say anything to anyone. Without any Good in me everything looks like a different kind of bad. And all I can imagine are the worst things about everyone and everything. And I can't tell if my stomach is aching or whether I'm imagining how bad a really bad stomachache might be if I had one right then. Either way it hurts. Ideas that scare me run around my head. I go to the bathroom. I pull the mirror back. There is an injector, but there is still no Good. None. Only a shaver and fluoride paste and a small medical kit. I look in the medical kit, just in case. No Good. I take the empty injector and bring it to my neck. I hit the trigger and stab and hope maybe I'll get something. I hit the trigger again. Again. I close the mirror, and a small crack appears in a corner of the glass. I go outside. I'm afraid of how bad I feel. No one asks where I am going.

The McStowes live in a complex on the outer part of the section. In our section the poor people all live on the outer parts so those of us on the inner parts don't have to come in contact with them all the time. They live cramped together in small spaces that are cheaper and as a result not as nice, in looks or housing capabilities: keeping warm/dry, being absent of animals, etc.

I haven't had any Good since breakfast. I can feel the no-Good pressing on me. Pulling me down. It is getting dark outside. Out at the edge of the section, there are so many shoelookers slowly moving through the walk-streets. They've been abandoned by the people who used to be their families. That's what happens to most shoelookers. There are a bunch of soon-deads and there are a few kid-youths and also every other age there is. Once in a while, one of the shoelookers will snap their heads up and their eyes will be wild like they just remembered something important. Then, after a few seconds of wild looking and head turning, they'll drop their heads back down.

It's worse than frustrating. Being around all those downed heads makes me want to close my eyes forever. I follow the gridwalks toward where the McStowes live. I focus on the ground because it doesn't make me want to disappear as much. The ground on the way there is grey and grey and grey. My shoes are black and grey. Good in its vial is clean/clear.

Long fingernails bite my shoulders. I look up and see a shoelooker my mother's age. Her hand are near my neck. She screams, "Where are we going?" and shakes me like she's trying to get me to wake up. Her voice is screechy like she's been yelling for a long time. I shove her, then I run because I'm very disturbed.

I make sure I'm looking up as I run. I'm sweaty when I reach Leslie's housing complex. Inside it is not nice. A bunch of cats and a raccoon race and fight in the lobby area. The walls are dirty and the paint is peeling. I walk up a stairwell that smells like a toilet. When I find the McStowe door I knock on it. I can hear people rustling inside. I imagine myself falling into a jar of needles over and over again. I haven't had any Good. The door opens. It's bright inside.

"Happy birthday" comes out of several mouths. The voices together make my heart beat harder.

"Hello," I say.

"Come in, come in," says Leslie. There's a tall man with a skinny neck and grey hair. He wears an ugly shirt with bright flowers on it.

"Great to see you, really great to see you," Father McStowe says. I'm wondering if in the McStowe's home people say everything twice.

The food sector is a small space to the left. It smells like something good. In the main sector are Leslie McStowe, her mother, her father, and three fidgeting shoelookers about my age. They have the usual sad/dirty look. They might be from the school. I don't know. I don't look at shoelookers.

"Come in," Mother McStowe says, even though I'm already inside. She is a thin woman with a short haircut. There are folds of loose skin under her neck. I come in further. Everyone is looking at me.

"How was your walk over?" Leslie says. Her face is smiling.

"Bad," I say. "This part of the section is worse than where my unit lives."

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that," Father McStowe says. "Let's have some cake now that the man of the hour is here in one piece!" Man of the hour. He is talking about me.

There are two beds in the main section. There are sheets and plates on one bed so it can be a table. There are pillows arranged on the other to make it a place to sit.

"I've never had cake," I say. I haven't. It isn't something proud people eat. It makes people fat, my mother says, just like the candy the Antis hand out in the streets.

"Well, isn't that a shame," Mother McStowe says, even though she is smiling. She has dimples like her daughter. "In this house we eat cake every chance we get, seems like," she laughs. And so does Father McStowe. Leslie laughs. Even one of the three shoelookers laughs a little. I can tell by how the shoelooker's shoulders jump while she stares at the floor.

"You shouldn't feel sorry for me," I say. "My housing unit is much nicer than this." It gets quiet, then the house starts laughing some more. Even though I don't know exactly why they are laughing, I'm not too frustrated.

"This one!" says Father McStowe. "A true comedian."

"What's a true comedian?" I ask.

"Joke-tellers, humor-makers," says Father McStowe. "Back in the old world, it was a life profession to make laughter. One of many interesting old-world lives."

"I don't believe that," I say, 'cause I don't.

"That's okay," says Mother McStowe, still giggling. "Let's eat some cake."

"Sounds sweet to me," says Father McStowe. He laughs and so does his family.

We move over to the table/bed. The main sector of the housing unit has walls covered in sheets of paper with too many colors on them.

"Cake," Mother McStowe says as she walks to the food sector, "was a delicacy in the old world, used to celebrate events like union-making, the lunar cycle, battle-victory and, of course, birthdays." Mother McStowe looks for some utensil in the food sector. I look at Father McStowe and ask, "Is that the food sector your son killed himself in?" There's a clang/clack sound from Mother McStowe dropping something on the floor.

Father McStowe looks at me. He touches my shoulder. His hand is large/heavy. "You know something," he speaks low so only I can hear him, "one of the things we like to do in this home is be careful of what we say. What you said didn't have to be said. And now you've hurt my wife. She'll be fine, but-"

"Lying for others is what caused the Big Quick and the Long Big," I say.

"Maybe. Or maybe it was something else. I'm talking about thinking about the other person, ya know?" Father McStowe whispers to me. "I'm sure you have a lot of ideas about this, but it's something we try around here." He smiles and touches my shoulder again. "Let's eat some cake," he says in a big voice, a voice for everybody.

I haven't had any Good since breakfast. And here I am. In Leslie McStowe's house. Because she invited me and because she makes me think of things that aren't Marlene or optimization or being forever dumb/slow.

Mother McStowe comes back. She smiles at me as she hands me a knife big enough to cut a bunch of things. "It was tradition for birthday boys to cut the cake after the singing of the traditional birthday hymn," Mother McStowe says. She looks around quickly with wide eyes, then begins to sing. The rest of her family joins in. The shoelookers look down and up, and down and up, trying to decide what to be, and even they mumble along with the McStowes.

Happy birthday to ya, happy birthday to ya
Happy birthday, happy birthday to ya
Happy birthday, it's your day yeah
Happy birthday to ya, happy birthday yeah!

When they finish, Mother McStowe tells me, with her eyes, to cut the cake. The knife cuts through easily. "I forgot, traditionally, you are supposed to make a wish before you cut into the cake," says Mother McStowe. "But after is fine, I suppose. You can wish for anything."

Of course, I wish for Good. I put one more cut into the cake, then Mother McStowe takes the knife for me, and I see she cuts into the middle of it instead of off the side like I did. She cuts pieces for everybody. Father McStowe and Leslie and I sit on the bed made for sitting. The rest stand and chew. The cake is the sweetest thing I've ever eaten. "Do you like it?"

"It's good 'cause it's so sweet," I say. It makes my tongue and teeth feel more alive.

"And it's an authentic old-time recipe you can't get anywhere else," Mother McStowe says.

When half my cake is gone I turn to Father McStowe. "Do you have any extra Good?" I ask somewhat discretely, since taking too much Good is not a proud thing. Father McStowe looks at me with cheeks full of cake.

"We like to think of our home as a throwback to an era before industrial Good," he says. He swallows, then puts a hand on my shoulder then removes it.

"I need Good."

"You're thinking now, this," Father McStowe does something with his hands, "is then. Think of our home as a place where no one needs industrial Good."

"Is it because you're poor that you don't have any Good?" I ask. Father McStowe laughs so hard he spits wet cake onto the floor. Quickly, Mother McStowe cleans it up. He looks to his daughter and says, "This one is funny. A real comedian."

"I'm not telling jokes," I say.

"That's why you're so good," Father McStowe says. "When I want to be funny, I usually tell an old-time joke, like this one," he clears his throat. "Have you heard the one about the deaf man?"

"What?"

"That's what he said!" Father McStowe says. "If you would have said 'no' I would have said ' neither has he.' Get it?" He touches me on the shoulder and chuckles. Leslie and the shoelookers giggle with him. "Truly, we like to think we, as you've seen, have created a space that is really a throwback to a time before the Big Quick or even the Long Big. My family and I recreate that decent era for people who might want, or need it."

"I'm frustrated because you don't have any Good. I'm leaving," I say.

"What we-hey Linda, could you grab some of our literature-offer here is a way to feel and be happy without Good. We can feel good just by being together and you can join us a few times a week depending on the package that works for you." Leslie is smiling and the shoelookers are eating cake, switching between weak smiles and lost frowns.

"I'm going home," I say.

"Take some literature," he says. With her face smiling, Mother McStowe hands me a pamphlet. On it are smiling faces and words and different prices. Different amounts of time are trailed by different credit values on each row of information.

"There are lots of choices," Leslie says.

"Think it over. If any package feels right for you, let Leslie know. We recommend starting off with at least three days a week here with us in The Era. You'll feel brand-new. Just look at these guests," Mother McStowe points to the shoelookers who are munching cake still. They look at me and they all try to smile.

I get up. "I'm frustrated because I thought this was something different," I yell. I haven't had any Good. I feel the pamphlet crushing in my fist. On the front it says Life in the Era in curly letters. "Also your daughter doesn't frustrate me, so that's why I came."

"Look over the literature," Father McStowe says when I'm at the door.

"I haven't had any Good since the morning, that's why I'm emotional," I scream before I slam the door and run back to my own housing unit. I get tired, so I have to walk. Plus there is no Good at my housing unit anyways. The night is black. The gridwalk is grey and grey and grey. There's some sweet left on my teeth and, even after the sweet is gone, thinking about it helps keep me walking.

At breakfast the next day the Good makes me feel better for a few minutes, but not even through to the last sip of my milk. My neck aches. My brain throbs. The floor of the school is mostly tan and the patterns against the tan are at least easy to drown in. In Mr. Harper's class we are talking about the Long Big and how it led to the Big Quick, like always. I think of cake during class.

At lunch I go to sit with my usuals. At the table Scotty says, "Back off, we don't want to associate with a shoelooker like you." Somebody else says, "Go sit with the downs over there." I just stand there, looking at the ground, because I'm not a shoelooker, even though, with my head down, and the feeling in my head, and the tears almost in my eyes, I probably look like one.

I try to be proud and look up. I feel a boom and a hurt under my eye. I fall. The table laughs. I see that John has punched me to say I am officially not welcome. My face hurts. I want to lie there, but I get up because I'm pulled up. It is Leslie McStowe that pulls me. She is frowning. When I'm standing, I pick my head up and she walks with me to the nurse's office. "It's okay," Leslie says, lying like they used to, like she does. And I am happy to hear her do it.

In the nurse's office Ms. Higgins stares at the two of us. Samantha is sitting in a chair. Samantha is not healthy, ever, but she looks at me like, welcome, and does her happier moaning sound. Ms. Higgins pulls a cold pack out of a cold box. I put the cold over my eye. It makes the hurt less. I sit in a chair next to Samantha. Leslie sits in one next to me.

"He got hit," Leslie says.

"Yah ohkay?" Samantha groans.

"You got hit," Ms. Higgins says.

"Yes," I say. Ms. Higgins says nothing. Then she stands up and opens the drawer that holds her injector. Hearing the drawer slide open makes my skin tingle. She turns her back to us so she can feed some fresh new Good into the injector.

Then, at the office door, I see my sibling. "I heard," says Marlene, "you've become a real shoelooker." Leslie touches my not-cold hand. Her fingers are warm on mine. "Ben is on a Good restriction, Higgins." With one eye I look at Leslie McStowe, then Samantha, and then Marlene, and then Ms. Higgins. Ms. Higgins screws a vial of Good into the injector. "I'll report you," Marlene says.

Ms. Higgins continues screwing the vial into the injector and does not look at Marlene. Marlene stands at the office door. She's holding a cup of water. All I want is Good. Ms. Higgins looks at me with her loaded injector. Leslie squeezes my hand. I look at Ms. Higgins. I shake my head. Ms. Higgins drops her injector on her desk then sits down in her chair. She turns her head and looks at the wall. We are quiet. It's quiet for a long time. Leslie looks at me. She wants to smile, but she can't, so with my head down, one hand warm, one hand cold, one eye bruising and the other looking at her I say, "Have you heard the one about the deaf man?"

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"Suck one and die," says Scotty, a tall, mostly-true, kid. "I'm aggressive 'cause I think you don't know shit." We're in HowItWas class. "Well," Mr. Harper says, twisting his ugly body toward us, "you should shut your mouth because you're a youth-teen who doesn't know shit about shit, and I'm a full-middler who's been teaching this stuff for more years than I'm proud of."

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LeVar Burton Reads: 'Let Those Who Would' by Genevieve Valentine

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LeVar Burton Reads: 'Let Those Who Would' by Genevieve Valentine

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Podcast episode reading a timely Valentine short story: A dystopian society tackles fake news.

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“Let Those Who Would” by Genevieve Valentine

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A dystopian society tackles fake news. Content advisory: violence

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Check the 'Dystopian Short Stories' column for stories you can read or listen to online!

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Check the 'Dystopian Short Stories' column for stories you can read or listen to online!

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LeVar Burton Reads: 'Valedictorian' by N K Jemisin

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LeVar Burton Reads: 'Valedictorian' by N K Jemisin

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[Listen online] Podcast episode with a wonderful reading of an unnerving dystopian short story: A smart, stubborn high school student sets her own rules in a near-future dystopia.

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A smart, stubborn high school student sets her own rules in a near-future dystopia. This story appears in N.K. Jemisin’s collection HOW LONG ’TIL BLACK FUTURE M

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[Read online] A young girl's grandmother is replaced by a robot.

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“You remember your grandmother,” they’d said to Sofia when she was seven, and she’d looked up and said, “Not this one.” Her parents always told it smiling, like it was clever of her to have noticed Grandmother had changed; who could have told the difference, they asked each other, and her grandfather nodded his familiar amazement, and in the corner the machine that wasn’t her grandmother looked back and forth with a smile.

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'The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas' in The Wind's Twelve Quarters by Ursula K Le Guin

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'The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas' in The Wind's Twelve Quarters by Ursula K Le Guin

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[Story in physical collection] Another classic: a dystopian city where everyone's happiness depends on the misery of a single child

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'Harrison Bergeron' in Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut

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'Harrison Bergeron' in Welcome to the Monkey House by Kurt Vonnegut

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[Story in physical collection] An absolute classic: a dystopia of total equality. It'll break your heart.

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How Long 'til Black Future Month by N K Jemisin

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How Long 'til Black Future Month by N K Jemisin

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[Stories in a physical collection] A spectacular collection of short stories by N K Jemisin, including dystopian stories such as 'The Ones Who Stay and Fight' (a response to Ursula Le Guin's 'The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas', 'Valedictorian', and 'The Elevator Dancer'

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'The Perfect Match' by Ken Liu (in The Paper Menagerie)

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'The Perfect Match' by Ken Liu (in The Paper Menagerie)

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[Story in a physical collection] One of Ken Liu's wonderful short stories in this collection, 'The Perfect Match' shows a world where everyone is coached in all they do by persona AIs.

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No One is Talking about This by Patricia Lockwood

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No One is Talking about This by Patricia Lockwood

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A woman known for her viral social media posts travels the world speaking to her adoring fans, her entire existence overwhelmed by the internet - or what she terms 'the portal'.

Are we in hell? the people of the portal ask themselves. Are we all just going to keep doing this until we die? Suddenly, two texts from her mother pierce the fray: 'Something has gone wrong,' and 'How soon can you get here?' As real life and its stakes collide with the increasing absurdity of the portal, the woman confronts a world that seems to contain both an abundance of proof that there is goodness, empathy and justice in the universe, and a deluge of evidence to the contrary.

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The Memoirs of a Survivor by Doris Lessing

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The Memoirs of a Survivor by Doris Lessing

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Many years in the future, city life has broken down, communications have failed and food supplies are dwindling. From her window a middle-aged woman – our narrator – watches things fall apart and records what she witnesses: hordes of people migrating to the countryside, gangs of children roaming the streets. One day, a young girl, Emily, is brought to her house by a stranger and left in her care. A strange, precocious adolescent, drawn to the tribal streetlife and its barbaric rituals, she is unafraid of the harsh world outside, while our narrator retreats into her hidden world where reality fades and the past is revisited

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A driver waiting at the traffic lights goes blind. An ophthalmologist tries to diagnose his distinctive white blindness, but is affected before he can read the textbooks.
It becomes a contagion, spreading throughout the city. Trying to stem the epidemic, the authorities herd the afflicted into a mental asylum where the wards are terrorised by blind thugs. And when fire destroys the asylum, the inmates burst forth and the last links with a supposedly civilised society are snapped.

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Hat, ribbon, bird rose. To the people on the island, a disappeared thing no longer has any meaning. It can be burned in the garden, thrown in the river or handed over to the Memory Police. Soon enough, the island forgets it ever existed. When a young novelist discovers that her editor is in danger of being taken away by the Memory Police, she desperately wants to save him. For some reason, he doesn't forget, and it's becoming increasingly difficult for him to hide his memories. Who knows what will vanish next?

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Nuclear war has devastated the world, bringing with it a host of genetic mutations. In the bleak, primitive society that has emerged from its ruins, any sign of deviation, no matter how small, is ruthlessly rooted out and destroyed. David lives in fear of discovery, for he is part of a secret group of children who are able to communicate with each other by transferring thought-shapes into each other's minds. As they grow older, they feel increasingly isolated. Then one of them marries a 'norm', with terrifying consequences.

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The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson

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The Ministry for the Future by Kim Stanley Robinson

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The Ministry for the Future is a masterpiece of the imagination, using fictional eyewitness accounts to tell the story of how climate change will affect us all. Its setting is not a desolate, postapocalyptic world, but a future that is almost upon us.

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York Notes Advanced: The Handmaid's Tale

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York Notes Advanced: The Handmaid's Tale

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Useful revision guide that includes a section surveying a variety of critical approaches to Atwood

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This introduction covers Atwood's work from the end of the 1960s to the present, drawing out her recurring themes of Canadian identity and the wilderness, the representation of women and female bodies, and history and its narration (includes an essay titles 'Science Fiction in the Feminine: The Handmaid's Tale')

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Dystopia: A Natural History by Gregory Claeys

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Dystopia: A Natural History by Gregory Claeys

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An extended critical work about the theory behind dystopias and dystopian fiction

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The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction, ed. by Edward James & Farah Mendlesohn, Farah

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The Cambridge Companion to Science Fiction, ed. by Edward James & Farah Mendlesohn, Farah

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Includes key background on the science fiction genre, and a useful critical essay by Edward James on 'Utopias and anti-topias'

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The Cambridge Companion to Margaret Atwood ed. by Coral Ann Howells

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The Cambridge Companion to Margaret Atwood ed. by Coral Ann Howells

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A range of critical essays about Margaret Atwood's work, including The Handmaid's Tale - perfect for both AO3 & AO4!

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The Connell Guide to Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale

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The Connell Guide to Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale

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Short, accessible mini-essays covering a variety of key themes, ideas, and characters - an excellent revision tool.

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Massolit Lectures on Dystopian Literature

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Massolit Lectures on Dystopian Literature

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7 x 5-15 min lectures on different aspects of dystopian fiction from Professor Nicole Pohl. You will need to create an account and log in with your school credentials (speak to Miss O'Connor if you have trouble with access).

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You are not currently logged in. Please create an account or log in to view the full course.

Dystopian Literature

In this course, Professor Nicole Pohl (Oxford Brookes University) provides an introduction to and overview of dystopian literature. In the first module, we introduce the concepts of 'utopia' and 'dystopia' themselves, as well as the idea of dystopias as "utopias which have decayed". In the second and third modules, we think about two major types of dystopia - dystopias of totalitarian control (e.g. Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four) and dystopias of environmental collapse (e.g. H. G. Wells' The War of the Worlds). In the fourth module, we explore the connection between dystopia and satire, looking in particular at Thomas More's Utopia (1516), before turning in the fifth and sixth modules to consider the history of dystopia from the first use of the word in the mid-18th century to the emergence of young adult dystopian fiction in the 21st. In the seventh and final module, we consider two emerging trends in dystopian fiction today - climate change fiction (or 'cli-fi', for short) and solarpunk.

Utopia, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction and Extinction

In this module, we introduce the concepts of utopia and dystopia, focusing in particular on: (i) the dual etymology of the word 'utopia' - both 'no-place' (ou + topia) and 'good place' (eu + topia); (ii) the work of Lyman Tower Sargent and the concept of utopia as 'social dreaming'; (iii) Sargent's definition of positive utopia (or eutopia) and negative utopia (or dystopia); (iv) Oscar Wilde's discussion of utopia in his 1891 essay 'The Soul of Man Under Socialism'; (v) the relationship between utopia and dystopia; (vi) Margaret Atwood's rejection of the label 'dystopia' in preference for the label 'speculative fiction'; (vii) the tension in both utopias and dystopias between the here and now and some alternative (better or worse) world; (viii) the work of Gregory Claeys and the idea of dystopias as "utopias which have decayed"; (ix) the shrinking of the gap between the here and now and the dystopian future, and the view of some writers (e.g. Kim Stanley Robinson) that we are already living in a dystopia; (x) the rise of extinction narratives, including Ling Ma's Severance (2018) and Christina Sweeney-Baird's The End of Men (2021).

Cite this Lecture
APA style
Pohl, N. (2022, May 12). Dystopian Literature - Utopia, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction and Extinction [Video]. MASSOLIT. https://massolit.io/courses/dystopian-literature
MLA style
Pohl, N. "Dystopian Literature - Utopia, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction and Extinction." MASSOLIT, uploaded by MASSOLIT, 12 May 2022, https://massolit.io/courses/dystopian-literature

Lecturer

Dystopian Literature

In this course, Professor Nicole Pohl (Oxford Brookes University) provides an introduction to and overview of dystopian literature. In the first module, we introduce the concepts of 'utopia' and 'dystopia' themselves, as well as the idea of dystopias as "utopias which have decayed". In the second and third modules, we think about two major types of dystopia - dystopias of totalitarian control (e.g. Orwell's Nineteen Eighty-Four) and dystopias of environmental collapse (e.g. H. G. Wells' The War of the Worlds). In the fourth module, we explore the connection between dystopia and satire, looking in particular at Thomas More's Utopia (1516), before turning in the fifth and sixth modules to consider the history of dystopia from the first use of the word in the mid-18th century to the emergence of young adult dystopian fiction in the 21st. In the seventh and final module, we consider two emerging trends in dystopian fiction today - climate change fiction (or 'cli-fi', for short) and solarpunk.

Utopia, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction and Extinction

In this module, we introduce the concepts of utopia and dystopia, focusing in particular on: (i) the dual etymology of the word 'utopia' - both 'no-place' (ou + topia) and 'good place' (eu + topia); (ii) the work of Lyman Tower Sargent and the concept of utopia as 'social dreaming'; (iii) Sargent's definition of positive utopia (or eutopia) and negative utopia (or dystopia); (iv) Oscar Wilde's discussion of utopia in his 1891 essay 'The Soul of Man Under Socialism'; (v) the relationship between utopia and dystopia; (vi) Margaret Atwood's rejection of the label 'dystopia' in preference for the label 'speculative fiction'; (vii) the tension in both utopias and dystopias between the here and now and some alternative (better or worse) world; (viii) the work of Gregory Claeys and the idea of dystopias as "utopias which have decayed"; (ix) the shrinking of the gap between the here and now and the dystopian future, and the view of some writers (e.g. Kim Stanley Robinson) that we are already living in a dystopia; (x) the rise of extinction narratives, including Ling Ma's Severance (2018) and Christina Sweeney-Baird's The End of Men (2021).

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Utopia, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction and Extinction

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Prof. Nicole Pohl at Oxford Brookes University discusses Utopia, Dystopia, Speculative Fiction and Extinction as part of a course on Dystopian Literature | High-quality, curriculum-linked video lectures for GCSE, A Level and IB, produced by MASSOLIT.

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A terrifying psychological trip into the life of one Joseph K., an ordinary man who wakes up one day to find himself accused of a crime he did not commit, a crime whose nature is never revealed to him. Once arrested, he is released, but must report to court on a regular basis--an event that proves maddening, as nothing is ever resolved. As he grows more uncertain of his fate, his personal life--including work at a bank and his relations with his landlady and a young woman who lives next door--becomes increasingly unpredictable. As K. tries to gain control, he succeeds only in accelerating his own excruciating downward spiral.

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BBC Sounds: Open Book podcast episode on dystopian fiction

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Open Book - Dystopian fiction - BBC Sounds

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Catch up on your favourite BBC radio show from your favourite DJ right here, whenever you like. Listen without limits with BBC Sounds.

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You can search our library catalogue from anywhere! Browse our books here, or email Miss O'Connor (kate.o'connor@fhs-sw1.org.uk) to request a new title

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Browse Lists - Francis Holland School - Library - Oliver

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Margaret Atwood's 6 minute monologue for the Financial Times on the future of democracy

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Democracy by Margaret Atwood | Democracy 2024

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Crash Course Literature: The Handmaid's Tale (part 1)

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Crash Course Literature: The Handmaid's Tale (part 1)

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An engaging rapid-fire revision tool- there's also a part 2! - from John Green (yes, that John Green!)

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The Handmaid's Tale, Part 1: Crash Course Literature 403

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6 minutes on the historical and political factors that led to a rise in dystopian fiction

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How to recognize a dystopia - Alex Gendler

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The venomous lumpsucker is the most intelligent fish on the planet. Or maybe it was the most intelligent fish on the planet. Because it might have just gone extinct. Nobody knows. And nobody really cares, either. Except for two people. Mining executive Mark Halyard has a prison cell waiting for him if that fish is gone for good, and biologist Karin Resaint needs it for her own darker purposes. They don't trust each other an inch, but they're left with no choice but to team up in search of the lumpsucker. And as they journey across the strange landscapes of near-future Europe - a nature reserve full of toxic waste; a floating city on the Baltic Sea; the lethal hinterlands of a totalitarian state - they're drawn into a conspiracy far bigger than one ugly little fish.

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The world is changing, and humanity must change with it. Rising seas and soaring temperatures have radically transformed the face of Earth. Meanwhile, Earth is being observed from afar by other civilizations...  and now they are ready to make contact. Vying to prepare humanity for first contact are a group of dreamers and changemakers, including Peter Hendrix, the genius inventor behind the most advanced VR tech; Charyssa, a beloved celebrity icon with a passion for humanitarian work; and Kanoa, a member of a global council of young people drafted to reimagine the relationship between humankind and alien societies. And they may have an unexpected secret weapon: Owen, a pop megastar whose ability to connect with his adoring fans is more than charisma. His hidden talent could be the key to uniting Earth as it looks toward the stars. But Owen's abilities are so unique that no one can control him and so seductive that he cannot help but use them. Can he transcend his human limitations and find the freedom he has always dreamed of? Or is he doomed to become the dictator of his nightmares?

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In a ruined and hostile landscape, in a future few have been unlucky enough to survive, a community exists in a giant underground silo. Inside, men and women live an enclosed life full of rules and regulations, of secrets and lies. To live, you must follow the rules. But some don't. These are the dangerous ones; these are the people who dare to hope and dream, and who infect others with their optimism. Their punishment is simple and deadly. hey are allowed outside. Jules is one of these people. She may well be the last.

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Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

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Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah

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Welcome to Chain-Gang All-Stars - the highly popular, highly controversial profit-raising program inside America's private prison system. Harkening back to the time of gladiators, but watched by millions of live-stream subscribers, prisoners compete for the ultimate prize: their freedom. Loretta Thurwar and Hamara 'Hurricane Staxxx' Stacker, teammates and lovers, are the fan favourites. If all goes well, Thurwar will be free in just a few matches, a fact she carries as heavily as her lethal hammer. But will the price be simply too high?

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A group of rebels have united to save a world ravaged by war, violence and greed. Joan is their leader. Jean de Men is their foe. The future of humanity is being rewritten... Lidia Yuknavitch's mesmerising novel sees Joan of Arc's story reborn for the near future. It is a genre-defying masterpiece that may well rewire your brain.

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Sarat Chestnut, born in Louisiana, is only six when the Second American Civil War breaks out in 2074. But even she knows that oil is outlawed, that Louisiana is half underwater, that unmanned drones fill the sky. And when her father is killed and her family is forced into Camp Patience for displaced persons, she quickly begins to be shaped by her particular time and place until, finally, through the influence of a mysterious functionary, she is turned into a deadly instrument of war. Telling her story is her nephew, Benjamin Chestnut, born during war - part of the Miraculous Generation - now an old man confronting the dark secret of his past, his family's role in the conflict and, in particular, that of his aunt, a woman who saved his life while destroying untold others. Part dystopian vision, part thrilling war story, American War is a stark, visceral and breathtakingly ambitious debut.

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In his bestselling A Planet for Rent, Yoss critiques '90s Cuba by drawing parallels with a possible Earth of the not-so-distant future. Wracked by economic and environmental problems, the desperate planet is rescued, for better or worse, by alien colonizers, who remake the planet as a tourist destination. Ruled over by a brutal interstellar bureaucracy, dispossessed humans seek better lives via the few routes available - working for the colonial police; eking out a living as black marketeers, drug dealers, or artists; prostituting themselves to exploitative extra-terrestrial visitors - or facing the cold void of space in rickety illegal ships.

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Something New Under the Sun by Alexandra Kleeman

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Something New Under the Sun by Alexandra Kleeman

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A bold, addictive and urgent new novel about capitalism, environmental collapse and our near future. What is really going on? Patrick Hamlin has come to Hollywood to see his novel be adapted for the screen, but why does he get the feeling that the film project is a smokescreen for something else? Does Cassidy Carter, the troubled starlet due to play the lead, know something he doesn’t? And what is the truth about WAT-R, the synthetic water everyone drinks in LA?

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A pandemic has devastated the planet, sorting humanity into two types: the uninfected and the infected, the living and the living dead. The worst of the plague is now past, and Manhattan is slowly being resettled. Armed forces have successfully reclaimed the island south of Canal Street – aka ‘Zone One’ and teams of civilian volunteers are clearing out the remaining infected ‘stragglers’. Mark Spitz is a member of one of these taskforces and over three surreal days he undertakes the mundane mission of malfunctioning zombie removal, the rigours of Post-Apocalyptic Stress Disorder, and attempting to come to terms with a fallen world. But then things start to go terribly wrong…

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Anderson Lake is a company man, AgriGen's calorie representative in Thailand. Under cover as a factory manager, he combs Bangkok's street markets in search of foodstuffs long thought to be extinct. There he meets the windup girl - the beautiful and enigmatic Emiko - now abandoned to the slums. She is one of the New People, bred to suit the whims of the rich. Engineered as slaves, soldiers and toys, they are the new underclass in a chilling near future where oil has run out, calorie companies dominate nations and bio-engineered plagues run rampant across the globe. And as Lake becomes increasingly obsessed with Emiko, conspiracies breed in the heat and political tensions threaten to spiral out of control. Businessmen and ministry officials, wealthy foreigners and landless refugees all have their own agendas. But no one anticipates the devastating influence of the Windup Girl.

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Pigs might not fly but they are strangely altered. So, for that matter, are wolves and racoons. A man, once named Jimmy, lives in a tree, wrapped in old bedsheets, now calls himself Snowman. The voice of Oryx, the woman he loved, teasingly haunts him. And the green-eyed Children of Crake are, for some reason, his responsibility.

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The year was 2014. We had cured cancer. We had beaten the common cold. But in doing so we created something new, something terrible that no one could stop. The infection spread, virus blocks taking over bodies and minds with one, unstoppable command: FEED. Now, twenty years after the Rising, bloggers Georgia and Shaun Mason are on the trail of the biggest story of their lives - the dark conspiracy behind the infected. The truth will get out, even if it kills them.

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Brown Girl in the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson

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Brown Girl in the Ring by Nalo Hopkinson

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The rich and the privileged have fled the city, barricaded it behind roadblocks, and left it to crumble. The inner city has had to rediscover old ways -- farming, barter, herb lore. But now the monied need a harvest of bodies, and so they prey upon the helpless of the streets. With nowhere to turn, a young woman must open herself to ancient truths, eternal powers, the tragic mystery surrounding her mother and grandmother. She must bargain with gods, and give birth to new legends.

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An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

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An Unkindness of Ghosts by Rivers Solomon

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Aster has little to offer folks in the way of rebuttal when they call her ogre and freak. She's used to the names; she only wishes there was more truth to them. If she were truly a monster, she'd be powerful enough to tear down the walls around her until nothing remains of her world. Aster lives in the lowdeck slums of the HSS Matilda, a space vessel organised much like the antebellum South. For generations, Matilda has ferried the last of humanity to a mythical Promised Land. On its way, the ship's leaders have imposed harsh moral restrictions and deep indignities on dark-skinned sharecroppers like Aster. Embroiled in a grudge with a brutal overseer, Aster learns there may be a way to improve her lot--if she's willing to sow the seeds of civil war.

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We are in an epidemic. An epidemic of unhappiness. Friends, here is the good news: HappyHead has the answer. When Seb is offered a place on a radical retreat designed to solve the national crisis of teenage unhappiness, he is determined to change how people see him and make his parents proud. But as he finds himself drawn to the enigmatic Finn, Seb starts to question the true nature of the challenges they must undergo. The deeper into the programme the boys get, the more disturbing the assessments become, until it's clear there may be no escape.

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All That's Left in the World by Erik J Brown

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All That's Left in the World by Erik J Brown

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When the Superflu wipes out most of the population, Jamie finds himself completely alone in a cabin in the woods - until an injured stranger crosses his path. Life is dangerous now and, armed with a gun, Jamie goes to pull the trigger. But there's something about Andrew... something that stops Jamie in his tracks. Jamie takes him in, and as Andrew heals and they eventually step out into the strange new world, their relationship starts to feel like more than just friendship... But trouble isn't far behind. As the boys make a perilous journey south, they'll come face to face with a world torn apart and society in ruins. And who, or what, will they find waiting for them at the end of it all?

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In a burned-out America, a father and his young son walk under a darkened sky, heading slowly for the coast. They have no idea what, if anything, awaits them there. The landscape is destroyed, nothing moves save the ash on the wind and cruel, lawless men stalk the roadside, lying in wait. Attempting to survive in this brave new world, the young boy and his protector have nothing but a pistol to defend themselves. They must keep walking.

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Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K Dick

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Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K Dick

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World War Terminus had left the Earth devastated. Through its ruins, bounty hunter Rick Deckard stalked, in search of the renegade replicants who were his prey. When he wasn't 'retiring' them with his laser weapon, he dreamed of owning a live animal - the ultimate status symbol in a world all but bereft of animal life. Then Rick got his chance: the assignment to kill six Nexus-6 targets, for a huge reward. But in Deckard's world things were never that simple, and his assignment quickly turned into a nightmare kaleidoscope of subterfuge and deceit - and the threat of death for the hunter, rather than the hunted.

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The Time Machine is the first and greatest modern portrayal of time-travel. It sees a Victorian scientist propel himself into the year 802,701 AD, when he is initially delighted to find that suffering has been replaced by beauty, contentment and peace. Entranced at first by the Eloi, an elfin species descended from humans, he soon realizes that they are simply remnants of a once-great culture - now weak and childishly afraid of the dark. They have every reason to be afraid: in deep tunnels beneath their paradise lurks another race - the sinister Morlocks.

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In a glass-enclosed city of absolute straight lines, ruled over by the all-powerful 'Benefactor', the citizens of the totalitarian society of OneState live out lives devoid of passion and creativity - until D-503, a mathematician who dreams in numbers, makes a discovery: he has an individual soul. Set in the twenty-sixth century AD, We is the classic dystopian novel and was the forerunner of works such as George Orwell's 1984 and Aldous Huxley's Brave New World.

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It begins as a way to make things fairer. An education system that will benefit everyone. It's all in the name of progress. This is what Elena Fairchild believes. As a teacher in one of the government's elite schools for children with high 'Q' scores, she witnesses the advantages first-hand. But when Elena's own daughter scores lower than expected, she is taken away. Elena follows her to her new home. A government institute. What she finds there makes Elena question everything. Because this world is about perfection - and that comes at a terrible price.

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The year is 2021. No child has been born for twenty-five years. The human race faces extinction.

Under the despotic rule of Xan Lyppiat, the Warden of England, the old are despairing and the young cruel. Theo Faren, a cousin of the Warden, lives a solitary life in this ominous atmosphere. That is, until a chance encounter with a young woman leads him into contact with a group of dissenters. Suddenly his life is changed irrevocably as he faces agonising choices which could affect the future of mankind.

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What was lost in the collapse: almost everything, almost everyone, but there is still such beauty. One snowy night in Toronto famous actor Arthur Leander dies on stage whilst performing the role of a lifetime. That same evening a deadly virus touches down in North America. The world will never be the same again. Twenty years later Kirsten, an actress in the Travelling Symphony, performs Shakespeare in the settlements that have grown up since the collapse. But then her newly hopeful world is threatened. If civilization was lost, what would you preserve? And how far would you go to protect it?

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What if the power to hurt were in women's hands? Imagine a world where teenage girls awake one morning with extraordinary physical strength and power that outstrips their male counterparts. Thanks to a newly acquired section of muscle near their collarbone, young women can now conduct electricity like electric eels: inflicting pain or electrocuting to death as they wish. They can even waken this power in older women too. This brave new world is far from a utopia however. As uprisings and revolts spread through the world and after the initial delight in female empowerment subsides, a darker side to the new world order emerges.

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V for Vendetta by Alan Moore (graphic novel)

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V for Vendetta by Alan Moore (graphic novel)

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In the near future, England has become a corrupt, totalitarian state, opposed only by V, the mystery man wearing a white porcelain mask who intends to free the masses through absurd acts of terrorism.

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Silence can be deafening. Jean McClellan spends her time in almost complete silence, limited to just one hundred words a day. Any more, and a thousand volts of electricity will course through her veins. Now the new government is in power, everything has changed. But only if you're a woman. Almost overnight, bank accounts are frozen, passports are taken away and seventy million women lose their jobs. Even more terrifyingly, young girls are no longer taught to read or write. For herself, her daughter, and for every woman silenced, Jean will reclaim her voice. This is only the beginning...

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This is the way the world ends… for the last time. It starts with a great red rift across the heart of the world's sole continent, spewing ash that blots out the sun. It starts with death, with a murdered son and a missing daughter. It starts with betrayal, and long dormant wounds rising up to fester. This is the Stillness, a land long familiar with catastrophe, where the power of the earth is wielded as a weapon. And where there is no mercy.

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Fifteen-year-old Alex doesn't just like ultra-violence - he also enjoys rape, drugs and Beethoven's ninth. He and his gang of droogs rampage through a dystopian future, hunting for terrible thrills. But when Alex finds himself at the mercy of the state and subject to the ministrations of Dr Brodsky, and the mind-altering treatment of the Ludovico Technique, he discovers that fun is no longer the order of the day. The basis for Stanley Kubrick's notorious 1971 film, A Clockwork Orange is both a virtuoso performance from an electrifying prose stylist and a serious exploration of the morality of free will.

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Kathy, Ruth and Tommy were pupils at Hailsham - an idyllic establishment situated deep in the English countryside. The children there were tenderly sheltered from the outside world, brought up to believe they were special, and that their personal welfare was crucial. But for what reason were they really there? It is only years later that Kathy, now aged 31, finally allows herself to yield to the pull of memory. What unfolds is the haunting story of how Kathy, Ruth and Tommy, slowly come to face the truth about their seemingly happy childhoods - and about their futures.

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The year is 1984 and war and revolution have left the world unrecognisable. Great Britain, now known as Airstrip One, is ruled by the Party, led by Big Brother. Mass surveillance is everything and The Thought Police are employed to ensure that no individual thinking is allowed. Winston Smith works at The Ministry of Truth, carefully rewriting history, but he dreams of freedom and of rebellion. It is here that he meets and falls in love with Julia. They start a secret, forbidden affair - but nothing can be kept secret, and they are forced to face consequences more terrifying than either of them could have ever imagined.

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Guy Montag is a fireman. His job is to burn books, which are forbidden, being the source of all discord and unhappiness. Even so, Montag is unhappy; there is discord in his marriage. Are books hidden in his house? The Mechanical Hound of the Fire Department, armed with a lethal hypodermic, escorted by helicopters, is ready to track down those dissidents who defy society to preserve and read books.

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The explosive literary sensation: a mother faces a terrible choice as Ireland slides into totalitarianism

On a dark, wet evening in Dublin, scientist and mother-of-four Eilish Stack answers her front door to find the GNSB on her step. Two officers from Ireland’s newly formed secret police are here to interrogate her husband, a trade unionist. Ireland is falling apart. The country is in the grip of a government turning towards tyranny and when her husband disappears, Eilish finds herself caught within the nightmare logic of a society that is quickly unravelling. How far will she go to save her family? And what – or who – is she willing to leave behind? Exhilarating, terrifying and propulsive, Prophet Song is a work of breathtaking originality, offering a devastating vision of a country at war and a deeply human portrait of a mother’s fight to hold her family together.

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Far in the future, the World Controllers have created the ideal society. Through clever use of genetic engineering, brainwashing and recreational sex and drugs all its members are happy consumers. Bernard Marx seems alone harbouring an ill-defined longing to break free. A visit to one of the few remaining Savage Reservations where the old, imperfect life still continues, may be the cure for his distress...

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America is a place of chaos, where violence rules and only the rich and powerful are safe. Lauren Olamina, a young woman with the extraordinary power to feel the pain of others as her own, records everything she sees of this broken world in her journal. Then, one terrible night, everything alters beyond recognition, and Lauren must make her voice heard for the sake of those she loves. Soon, her vision becomes reality and her dreams of a better way to live gain the power to change humanity forever.

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Kavanagh begins his life patrolling the Wall. If he's lucky, if nothing goes wrong, he only has two years of this, 729 more nights. The best thing that can happen is that he survives and gets off the Wall and never has to spend another day of his life anywhere near it. He longs for this to be over; longs to be somewhere else. He will soon find out what Defenders do and who the Others are. Along with the rest of his squad, he will endure cold and fear day after day, night after night. But somewhere, in the dark cave of his mind, he thinks: wouldn't it be interesting if something did happen, if they came, if you had to fight for your life?

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Desert sands have laid waste to the south-west of America. Las Vegas is buried. California - and anyone still there - is stranded. Any way out is severely restricted. But Luz and Ray are not leaving. They survive on water rations, black market fruit and each other's need. Luz needs Ray, and Ray must be needed. But then they cross paths with a mysterious child, who needs them more than anything - and the thirst for a better life begins.

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Offred lives in The Republic of Gilead. To some, it is a utopian vision of the future, a place of safety, a place where everyone has a purpose, a function. But The Republic of Gilead offers Offred only one function: to breed. If she deviates, she will, like dissenters, be hanged at the wall or sent out to die slowly of radiation sickness. But even a repressive state cannot obliterate desire - neither Offred's nor that of the two men on which her future hangs.

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In a post-apocalyptic Africa, the world has changed in many ways; yet in one region genocide between tribes still bloodies the land. A woman who has survived the annihilation of her village and a terrible attack by an enemy general wanders into the desert, hoping to die. Instead, she gives birth to an angry baby girl with hair and skin the colour of sand. Gripped by the certainty that her daughter is different - special - she names her Onyesonwu, which means `Who fears death?' in an ancient language. It doesn't take long for Onye to understand that she is physically and socially marked by the circumstances of her conception. She is Ewu - a child of rape who is expected to live a life of violence, a half-breed rejected by her community. But Onye is not the average Ewu. Even as a child, she manifests the beginnings of a remarkable and unique magic. As she grows, so do her abilities, and during an inadvertent visit to the spirit realm, she learns something terrifying: someone powerful is trying to kill her. Desperate to elude her would-be murderer and to understand her own nature, she embarks on a journey in which she grapples with nature, tradition, history, true love, and the spiritual mysteries of her culture, and ultimately learns why she was given the name she bears: Who Fears Death.

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An epidemic is sweeping the country. You are among the infected. There is no cure, and you cannot be permitted to infect others. You are now under quarantine. The very few of the infected who survive are dangerous and will be taken into the custody of the army. Young runaway Callie survived the disease, but not the so-called treatment. Her brother Kai is still looking for her. And his new friend Shay may hold the key to uncovering what truly happened.

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2044. The real world is in ruins. Out of oil, the climate destroyed, famine, poverty and disease are widespread. Like almost everyone, Wade Watts has an escape - the OASIS, a sprawling virtual utopia where you can be anything you want to be, where you can live and play and fall in love on any of ten thousand planets. And like almost everyone, he's on the hunt for the ultimate lottery ticket that lies concealed within this alternate reality - control of the OASIS, courtesy of the wish of its now-dead architect, James Halliday. For years, millions have struggled fruitlessly to attain this prize, knowing only that the riddles are based in the culture of the late 20th century. And then Wade stumbles onto the key to the first puzzle. Suddenly, he finds himself pitted against thousands of competitors in a desperate race to claim the ultimate prize, a chase that soon takes on terrifying real-world dimensions - and that will leave both Wade and his world profoundly changed.