Twenty-four hours: that was all Kyra had to prepare for the biggest test of her life.

The city was bustling under a layer of dark clouds, leaves from the few trees scattered by the warm fall winds. She adjusted her backpack as she moved through the crowded street, trembling with each shoulder that brushed her own. Her throat was constricted, making it difficult to swallow the constant flood of saliva in her mouth. How was she supposed to stay calm when her whole world would change in a few hours? Where she would live, her job, her partner in life – all of it would be decided by people behind a computer screen. A sharp pang in her wrist pulled her back to reality. 

Stop injuring yourself, Citizen.

Kyra glanced down at the bracelet on her wrist. She hadn't even realised she was spinning it. Despite its large size, the bracelet was feather light - but it still wasn't supposed to spin. In her anxious state she had managed it. Whatever made it stay on – needles, she suspected, though she'd always been too afraid to ask – was digging into her wrist. Blood trickled down her tawny skin, pooling between her clenched fingers.

"You really shouldn't do that."

She looked up, expecting to see a cruel, emotionless face. Enforcers, or so she'd heard, had their emotions sapped out of them. As soon as they put on their uniforms they were lifeless shells, incapable of remorse, grief or any emotion, really. They no longer had a partner, children, or a life - they would kill their own family if they broke the law. Ever since her father died in the line of duty, that was how she saw them.

But no, instead it was a slim, tall boy, with a face full of angles and shadows, which was one of the main reasons she loved to write about him. As she watched, he ran a hand through his mop of golden hair, moving it so it no longer covered his blue eyes. Kyra smiled and moved her bracelet back in place, holding back a grimace.

"It tears at your skin." James held up his own wrist and pointed to the pale scars underneath his bracelet that were slowly fading. Unlike Kyra's, his were made from years of zaps and punishments. She knew they were well deserved though; their bracelets were designed to make them good citizens. If they received a zap, it was because they were doing something wrong.

Heels clacked against the pavement in a constant drumbeat, drowning out Kyra's thoughts. People turned to stare at the pair as they walked. In their school uniforms, it was easy to tell them apart from the adult workers. It didn't help that they were the only students around. They were rarely this late to school, especially on such an important day. It was one of the few parts of James that Kyra didn't like; he followed his own timetable, not the one their society gave him. But still, she waited for him every day. That's what they did.

Walk faster, Citizen.

She looked down at her shoes. They turned in slightly as she walked, causing her to trip frequently. She had always been told to turn her toes out, but neither her bracelet nor her mother had made the habit stick.

Correct your posture, Citizen. 

The clouds above were grey, ominous and threatening, ready to pour down at any second. The street lamps had been left on, even though it was late into the morning, in case a storm did hit. Kyra glanced up at James. He was frowning, a bad sign; James almost always had a grin on his face.

"Are you alright?" Kyra asked.

"Shouldn't I be asking you?" James nudged Kyra playfully in the side, but his voice was serious. He knew all too well what stress did to her. "Are you okay?"

That question had been haunting Kyra for weeks. Her nerves were bad enough on their own, but every time she looked down, or appeared the slightest bit upset, someone would ask if she was okay. No matter how many times she told herself she was, her mind went back to the word 'okay', twisting it and changing it into something she no longer recognised. It was a curse.

Kyra wanted to tell him how she felt, scream it if it made her constant fear go away, but all she said was, "I asked you first."

They turned down a narrow alley between two buildings. Even there, hidden in shadow, the towers were beautiful. Tall and solid, most with floor to ceiling windows all the way to the top. There were one hundred towers of all shapes and sizes in the city centre, separated from the housing sector by a thick river of sparkling water. It was beautiful up close, but Kyra longed to fly above Arabel, as she'd seen so many birds do before. It was the only way she would be able to see the city in all of its glory.

James pulled Kyra to a stop, wrapping his warm fingers around her wrist. "It's Ashley." His light eyes scanned the street around them. After a few short seconds, James turned back to Kyra, though his voice was much quieter this time. "She's missing. Well, I think she is. Does not seeing your sister in three weeks make her missing?"

"Your sister? Are you sure?" Kyra frowned as James nodded. It had been a while since she'd spent time with the rest of James' family. James was like his sister in looks and personality. They were runners, always chasing some new dream, excelling in the knowledge that their parents would get them out of any trouble - no matter what they did. Compared to James' track record, Ashley's was long enough to fill a book. At least Kyra had managed to keep James mostly on track; it was hard to change his mind once he'd decided to do something dangerous. It didn't matter though; if anyone checked all they would see were clean records and glowing remarks. How could the golden children do anything wrong? 

"That's impossible. No one's gone missing in Arabel for years, not since..." Kyra trailed off, a sharp pain gripping her chest. If there was a textbook dedicated to missing citizens it would only need one page: Hunter Jackson, Kyra's father. Their history textbooks might as well have been a page long. There was nothing about the disease, or how their society survived it, or why there wasn't a cure. All it talked about were the great things they'd done, and the horrible world they'd left behind. "You know who I mean. Anyway, I thought she was still in training at the school - the journalism career requires you to study for three years at the bare minimum. It's not like she can wander far between the Printery and the University."

He grinned. "In times of crisis, I can always count on Kyra: The Human Textbook." He shook his head to clear it. "Considering my parents' position, you'd think they'd want her to be found. It doesn't look good when the kid of two city council members goes missing, does it?"

"No, it doesn't." 

James sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's only been three weeks, I'm sure she'll turn up." James smiled stiffly to prove he was okay, but Kyra saw straight through it. She decided not to test him though; James would talk about it when he was ready, and forcing him to talk wouldn't help either of them. It would only start an argument. "So what's up with you?"

"Nothing. I'm... I'm fine."

Talking about her nerves seemed so ridiculous compared to James' worries. Kyra's father Hunter disappeared past the city fences when she was ten. Eight years ago, she realised with a start. The pain was as fresh as yesterday. It wasn't until her father that she'd realised the five stages of grieving were a made-up concept to explain the unexplainable. She searched the city for him everyday. Places she knew he loved and places he'd never even entered. She didn't eat or sleep or stay in a room with her family for longer than ten minutes. If the stress of losing their father hadn't put her brother Daniel in hospital, she would probably still be in that place.

For James it would be the same – if not worse.

Walk faster, Citizen.

Kyra picked up the pace, breathing easy now the school was in sight.

"Are you sure? I know how you get before tests, Kyra. And the Vinctures aren't just worth a grade." James raised his brows.

They were outside the school now. Compared to the towers surrounding it, the school was tiny, but it fit perfectly into the retail section of the city. Adorning the entrance like statues were two Enforcers, batons clenched in their gloved hands. Kyra tried not to look at them as they went inside, but she could feel their accusing gazes on her through their tinted visors, always watching, analysing her every move.

Kyra hated being late. She hated being wrong. She hated being anything but perfect.

You are good. Arabel is good. Everything is good.

Kyra shook her head to block out the voice. "Oh, I'm sure."

— — author's note — —

Hey guys! Thank you so much for reading this story. Please consider commenting and voting if you enjoyed this chapter - your feedback means a lot to me.

What do you think about the world? Are the characters interesting? Let me know what you think!

Anyway, enjoy! x