Free Anomaly by Krista McGee

say that when certain music is played, it is like hearing from the Designer himself. I thought she was crazy.” John laughs. “Myfavorite kind of music was rock-and-roll. I didn’t care much for classical music. It had no words to sing along to. But now I see how right Judy was.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Have you ever wondered if there is more than what the Scientists are telling you?”
    This is dangerous talk. Even among the condemned.
    “It’s all right.” John senses my fear. “Let’s pretend you have had those thoughts. I believe they are not symptoms of a disease. They are placed in you by a Designer far more intelligent and far more caring than the Scientists.”
    “But the Scientists do care for us.” I repeat what I have always been taught. “They give us everything we need and ensure this world is a better place than the one into which they were born.”
    “I know.” John nods. “My James has always had a good heart. And I do believe most of the Scientists have the noblest of intentions.”
    John is speaking like he knows better than the Scientists. But he cannot. No one knows better than them.
    “But in trying to eradicate the Designer from this State, they have committed a grievous wrong. One the Designer will not allow to continue.”
    My eyes widen. What is he saying?
    “I am saying too much, too soon.” John folds his hands in his lap. “It’s just . . . I can tell you are—no. I need to wait. Let me return to the music. The Designer is speaking to you through that music. It is him that you hear. And he promises that those who seek him will find him.”
    I try to swallow, but my throat is tight. I am either as crazyas John, as unevolved as he is, or everything I have ever been taught about life is a lie. Seeing John, hearing him, I have trouble believing he is crazy. But it is just as hard to believe the Scientists are flawed.
    John stands. “I have given you much to consider.”
    I blink. I am not sure I can even speak. I have never felt so conflicted in my life.
    John stands and walks me to his door. “When you have questions, I will be waiting. In the meantime, I will pray the Designer speaks to you in ways you cannot deny.”

CHAPTER TWELVE
    A week has passed. Berk must be concerned about the Scientists watching us because he has been very clinical with me. Despite his earlier reassurances, I am beginning to feel like a lab rat. More like a science experiment and less like a friend. I am run through a different series of tests every day. Sometimes I am back in the cube. Other times I am put to sleep with electrodes recording my brain activity. Berk and his Assistants record everything, asking me about my reactions, checking my heart rate and blood pressure. I suppose they are trying to determine where, exactly, the malfunction in my design stems from so my particular error won’t be repeated.
    I have not visited John again. I haven’t even played my violin. And I definitely don’t ask the questions that are burning in my consciousness.
    “Thalli?” Berk is in my room. Dr. Berk. The Scientist. As much as I try to resist, my heart always beats faster when he is around. “We are taking a short trip.”
    “But it is evening.”
    “I know.” Berk releases a slight smile. Just enough for me to see. “You have not seen the moon in several weeks. This is your pod’s night. You, of course, cannot join them. But studies continue to affirm that glimpses of the sky are beneficial to the mind and body.”
    I want to jump up and hold Berk. But I control myself, willing my stomach to calm, suppressing a squeal of delight. A trip to the moon with Berk. What a wonderful thought.
    “And bring your violin.” Berk motions toward the couch, where my instrument has sat since my last visit with John. “It has been noted that you haven’t played in a week.”
    I place my violin in its case and follow Berk outside. He is silent, so I am too. I’m sure this is just another one of my