Free The Killing Jar by RS McCoy Page B

floor, Theo entered a large room with a series of couches and the six Scholars who had already selected, including Isaac. Each stood in conversation, congratulating each other and describing their future research, their choice of mentor, their new lab.
    “Hey, Theo. Congrats.” Isaac offered his hand, and Theo shook it, but he didn’t have anything else to say. He turned to the viewing window to watch the rest of the ceremony.
    There was one person in particular he was eager to see.
    Two dozen names he knew only in passing were called, a few other Scholars were brought to the viewing room, but Theo didn’t move. He would be there to support his friend even from a distance.
    Mere minutes later, Nate stood at the curtains, his eyes up and to the right, to the window where Casey stood watching.
    “Mr. Nathaniel Voight, Artisan.”
    Theo had clearly misheard. At least, he thought he did until he saw the crimson cords placed over Nate’s shoulders, until he saw the wide consuming smile on Nate’s face, until he saw the way Nate looked up and locked eyes with him through the glass. And then, a moment later, Nate ran for the Artisan room and the boyfriend he couldn’t give up.
    And like that, Theo lost the best friend he ever knew.

 

     

DASIA
    COLLECTOR PRECINCT 881, HELENA, NORTH AMERICA
    AUGUST 7, 2232
     
    Reality closed in on her, a tight, suffocating grip that wouldn’t let her free. Her body ached for a dose of peace, a little taste of the purple pill.
    “Dasia King?” She didn’t know how long he’d been in the interrogation room with her.
    Still, she nodded. There was no use in denying it. No use in denying any of it.
    The man pulled out the opposing chair and made an attempt to keep his suit from wrinkling as he sat. He placed a tablet on the table but pointed the screen so only he could see it.
    “My name is Dr. Nick Pastromas. I understand you’ve had a difficult morning.”
    Dasia looked at him. Her eyes burned from so many useless tears. What she wouldn’t pay to give in to anth, to sleep it all away.
    But no. That wouldn’t be fair to the boy she loved. The boy she would never marry. The boy she let die.
    “The coroner indicated extremely elevated levels of gaseous toxicity as cause of death. There’s nothing you could have done.”
    Dasia looked up at Dr. Nick Pastromas in his fancy suit. He seemed genuine. There was no hint of smile to his clean-shaven jaw. Maybe it was the remnants of anth, still lingering, still playing its tricks.
    “You mean, I’m not—” she fought for the words.
    “Oh, no. You’ll still be held responsible for his death. Also, there was a large quantity of anth in your home. Possession with intent to distribute, being under the influence of an illegal substance, and breaking curfew. You’ll have quite the record when this is all processed.”
    Dasia had expected no less.
    It was all she deserved.
    It was only a fraction of the true price of her actions. She would have to live with herself, live with Cole’s absence for the rest of her days, regardless if she was free or in prison. There was nothing a guy in a fancy suit could threaten that would be worse than what she’d already done.
    “Your file indicates you selected Craftsman last year. You plan to take over your family’s farm. Is that right?”
    “Does it matter anymore?”
    “You took only a handful of classes at the Monarch Center, but amongst them, an interesting variety. Agriculture, Creative Writing, Calculus, Aerospace, and Geology to name a few. Do you have interests in any of these areas?”
    “Does it matter ?” she repeated, growing more distraught by the second.
    “Your test scores indicate you are in the upper echelon of your sector. I’m curious why you would choose Craftsman when you have so many other options available.”
    Dasia pushed to standing in a single, furious movement. “Is this my punishment?” she shouted, leaning over the table to scream in his face. “Are you going to