Click, click, click ... The sounds of typing computers was the only audible noise in the busy office building. Carpets dulled footsteps, and any voices were muted and soft. In one of the small cubicles, empty of decoration and furnishing aside from the computer its occupant was working, was a young woman. Her platinum-blonde hair was straight down her pure white uniform, and perfectly-white skin accented her light blue eyes.

Only about sixteen years old, the secretary, Deirdre Thomson, was hard at work. Absently, one perfectly-manicured hand reached up and brushed her hair back behind her ear. At the same time, her other hand continued typing like it didn't even need the other one. And once her hand returned, she typed like nothing had happened.

Deirdre absently finished the report she'd been writing and rose, her white heels thudding dully against the pure white carpeting as she walked to the printer. The entire thirty-page report printed out, and she took it out, making them all even.

Once the papers were perfectly leveled, Deirdre scooped them all up and started walking back to her cubicle. However, she drew up short when she reached there, her eyes widening slightly. "Mrs. Clark?" she said, speaking to the head of United. "What are you doing here?"

The woman smiled, wearing an identical uniform to Deirdre's, but accented further by a perfect figure and spotless skin. Smooth raven hair swung down her back as she smiled, the expression failing to reach her eyes. "Miss Thomson," she said. "A pleasure to see you. You have the reports?"

Deirdre held out the papers for Mrs. Clark, and the perfect woman took them, tucking them under her arm. "Well done, my dear," she said, white teeth flashing in that smile again. "I must say, you are most efficient."

"My family expects efficiency from me, ma'am," Deirdre replied. "I can only hope to do so at my job as well."

"But in one so young ..." Mrs. Clark clicked her tongue. "How old are you, Miss Thomson?"

"Sixteen, ma'am," Deirdre said, maintaining her soft voice. "But my father is very proud of me. He tells me I'm far more mature than my age would suggest."

"Does he, now!" Mrs. Clark seemed impressed. Or perhaps just amused. Deirdre wasn't entirely sure. "I'm sure he's unbiased, my dear. But that's neither here nor there. You're very pretty, you know, child."

"What?" Deirdre said, blinking. Her face was still marked from the scars of an acne-ridden puberty, and she knew her nose was too big for her face.

"Yes," Mrs. Clark said, as if she hadn't heard Deirdre. "Pretty ... but not yet beautiful. Not yet at the point of perfection, if you understand me."

"I'm afraid I don't," Deirdre said.

"You need some improvements, little one," Mrs. Clark told her. "But not yet. It's much too early. I'd hate to waste you."

"Waste me?" Deirdre was now totally and completely lost, and started at Mrs. Clark in confusion. "Why would you waste me?"

The woman shook her head. "Never mind, dear," she said. "It's much too early yet. Much, much too early ..."

Deirdre was feeling vaguely creeped out and didn't say anything. Mrs. Clark studied the young woman before smiling again. "Excellent obedience, little one," she said. "You are marvelous. I'm very excited about working with you more in the future." She walked off, the papers tucked under her arm.

Deirdre watched her go before shaking her head in confusion. The secretary returned to her cubicle and settled in, but before she'd gotten very far into her work, somebody else spoke to her. "Psst, Deirdre!"

She looked up at her coworker, Bruce. He was handsome and ... that was about all he had going for him. He grinned. "Turns out I'm not the only one with my eye on you! You keep this up and you'll be at the top of their list in no time."

"I didn't even do anything," Deirdre protested. "I just printed my reports out."

Bruce snickered. "Suuuure you did," he said. "Play innocent, Deirdre, I know your work."

"My ... work?" Deirdre looked confused. "I really don't know what you mean."

"So naïve," Bruce chuckled, retreating back into his own cubicle.

Deirdre glowered after him. They all thought of her like that—like there was always something hiding up her sleeve. Even though Deirdre just wanted to do her job. The money kept her away from her family, and thank heavens for that. She didn't want them anywhere near her, the disgusting ... evil .... She shook her head.

The typing was starting to drive her mad. More so, in fact, than it ever had before. It was as if she had been jarred by the visit instead of impressed. Deirdre frowned, but her fingers never stopped moving. She was too well-trained for that. It was too deeply ingrained into the very fiber of her being—always do her duty for United. She wasn't going to stop now.

Not even when she was beginning to question everything they stood for.

. . . . . . . . . .

Deirdre finished work quickly that day, leaving directly at five in the afternoon. She shuddered briefly as she passed by Mrs. Clark's office. That woman was creepy ... Deirdre hadn't quite realized just how creepy she actually was.

She kept walking, outside of the pure white building, and towards the wealthier section of the Dome. Of course she would live there, though where she lived was no longer her childhood home. And it was far, far better that way. She wanted nothing to do with her family, especially not her brother. The farther away she could leave them, the far, far better it would be for her, in the long run.

As she walked along the street, a distant noise caught her attention. Frowning slightly, the young woman moved closer, brushing her blonde hair back as she went. There shouldn't be anything like that here ...

But it was what she suspected. In the middle of square, stood a great number of people. Judging by the overall shabbiness of their clothes, Deirdre was willing to bet that they weren't from her part of the Dome. As she got closer, she heard them shouting. Equal rights. An end to the war. A stop to the draft that had claimed thousands of lives. No more nuclear weapons.

Deirdre had heard it all before. It had affected her once, a long time ago. Before United had taught her better. Taught her to see, to understand. To do as she was told and never once fight it or deny it.

Satisfied with her lot in life, Deirdre went to her house and closed the door. The chaos of the riot outside was lost to the soundproof door, forgotten even in Deirdre's mind. And, like all riots before, this one would do ... nothing. The people would remain unsatisfied until the end.