Free Assimilation (Concordia Series Book 1) by Lydia Chelsea

logical reason that it should.
    “The Tribunal is set for Monday, June ninth,” he begins, gesturing to the handheld device, silently asking if I want to read it.  I don’t.  We sit like this for a few moments until Ritter decides I’m not going to take the device.  “I wish this hadn’t happened, Davinney.   I wish it with everything in me.”
    His apology is sincere.  Everything about him is earnest, from the sag of his shoulders to the way his mouth turns down.
    “I need you to understand that,” he says, shifting so that he faces me more fully.
    “I do,” I assure him.
    My words aren’t enough. I remember everything Ritter told me last night about open worlds, about closed worlds.  Something dawns on me.
    “Ritter, when I asked you when I could go home, Strega said ‘maybe never’,” I sit up straighter in my chair.  “Maybe means there’s still a chance I can go home, right?”
    Ritter sighs. “In certain circumstances,” he says slowly, “the Tribunal has chosen to allow it.”
    “But what about the Agreement?”  I ask, remembering what he said about my world’s closed stance.  Disavowing all knowledge of parallel travel to the point where I’d be a threat to them if I returned.
    “Certain high profile cases have caused Attero to bend where they’re normally inflexible,” he admits.
    I smile as a spark of hope blinks to life. “My dad is an officer in the Air Force.  Would that help?”
    Ritter doesn’t smile back, though.  He holds his hands up. “It might,” he shrugs. “But I don’t want you to get your hopes up. They’ve seldom allowed it, and it’s unlikely they will now.”
    “But you must think there’s at least some small chance.”
    “It’s probably wishful thinking.”
    I feel deflated, my stomach sinking. I know he didn’t mean to plant a little seed of hope inside me, but he has, and I’m afraid for the seven days that loom ahead.  That little seed will surely sprout.  The pain will be worse if that seed takes root.  I try to rip it out again. 
    “Isn’t there any kind of leniency, considering I’m still just a kid?”
    Ritter frowns. “Not here, you aren’t.” A strange expression floods his face. He turns red and stammers, “I-I mean, you’re at least sixteen, right?”
    I wonder about this look, why he looks like I’ve caught him stealing a sucker from a toddler.
    “Yes,” I admit. “I’ll be seventeen next month.”
    “You’re an adult here,” he says. “The Agreement would only consider you a minor if yours was an open world.”
    My heart falls. His next words, also very earnest, help to tear away the last of that stupid root of hope.
    “Just in case things don’t work out, I want you to understand the other way things might go.”
    “Okay,” I agree, sitting up straighter, meeting his eyes with what I hope looks like bravery.
    “If the Tribunal decides you’re stuck here, you’ll be forced to assimilate.  You’ll be expected to become a productive member of our society.  A lot of it will be automatic and at least relatively painless…choosing your foods from the acceptable list, complying with whatever information and instruction the MedQuick provides.  You’ll pass through Challenge, which is a series of tests to determine a range of functions you can perform.  You—”
    “Functions?”
    “Jobs,” Ritter counters. “You’ll have to commit to our version of English. Assimilation is about full immersion, about letting go of where you came from and pledging complete loyalty to Concordia.”
    It seems hideously unfair to me that Ritter’s Earth wants to keep me from my home and won’t even let me have the things that make me who I am.  When I tell Ritter as much, he reaches over and takes my hand, his eyes clouded with regret.
    “You have no idea how many times I’ve gone over what happened in my mind, trying to figure out how I dragged you back with me.  I shoved you out of the path of the car, but that