L E T me tell you why I'm screwed:

Tomorrow is a test day for myself. Actually, every 16 years old in 'The City That Never Sleeps' will be tested. But it's not some chemistry test that I have not studied for the week before and that I know I'll be flunking for sure.

It's a test that will lay out the life ahead. A test that will sketch my identity using its inked pincers, printing out a well-structured paraphrase of my future in one of many forms - be it a riddle, a prophecy, or utter bullcrab-verse.

How have my life piled up to that, you ask?

It all started in December 2019 - last year - when New York was chosen to be put on a 6-months trial for some project founded by Marcus Delton, an ambitious man whose ideas were to prophesize the lives of teenagers so that they can prepare for their inevitable futures in advance. The idea was accepted to be tried out after a permit and intensive research and was to be applied on the last day of every month for six months starting 2020. Those who turn 16, whom I secretly call 'One-Sixers', would proceed to the Techno Seer on the last day of their birth months for testing.

I celebrated my 16th birthday 11 days ago. Since then, I haven't had a restful night. Even though most of the nightmares were of my being chased by a vicious, barbecued beet fruit, I still woke up drenched in cold sweat.

And today is my last day to enjoy a clueless life. For now, I have no idea whatsoever about how my life will be like a few years from now, much less a few seconds from this moment onward. The thing is, I don't even know how I'll be going through all of the procedures: will they attach needles to my head or just scan my mind using God-knows-what? All I know is that it all revolves around a machine known as the Techno Seer, and that's where all the procedures take place. Tomorrow morning, my dad and I will go to the Analytic building, where they'll explain everything to us before taking me to the Techno Seer to get tested.

Just thinking about all of that freaks the Hades out of me.

I sip my marshmallow fluff smoothie as I zone into the conversation between my friends.

"But, hey! At least my PSAT score was better than yours," Mia speaks, her hands flailing everywhere. That's Mia for you: her hands talk more than her mouth does.

"Whatever." Ella glances at me then, silently questioning my sudden reticence.

I reassure her by saying sarcastically, "Can we please not talk about any tests? I'm internally hyperventilating."

Mia huffs out a frustrated breath. "Dude. 'Tis just a stupid test. Nothing to worry about."

"Yeah, you say that because you won't even take the Fate test. You should be thankful that your mom pushed you out of her VJ in September. Why is it only a 6-months trial? Or rather, why did I have to be born anytime in the first half of the year?" I say in frustration, toying with my straw.

"Still. You're fretting too much. It's probably all just some façade to cover up the government's futile, 'so-called' achievements."

"Shush!" Ella exclaims, turning her head frantically sideways and causing her blonde mess of a head to slap me in the face repeatedly. "Do you want us to get killed or something?"

Mia rolls her eyes. The next moment, she stumbles over a pebble and narrowly escapes a nice faux-pas and possibly a broken limb.

Ella points at Mia's feet and says, "See? That's probably Fate's way of telling you to watch where you're stepping. Literally and figuratively. "

Mia throws her hands in the air. "Ugh. You're such a superstitious stud."

She shrugs. "Better be safe than sorry."

I fish out my keys and unlock the front door to my house. We all get inside.

"I'm home!" I yell, taking off my shoes.

"More like, 'We're home'," Mia shrieks, running inside and dumping her bum onto our poor couch.

My brother Tyler descends the stairs, a sour expression adorning his face. "Who invited Aramis and Porthos here?"

"Hey! I'm Athos, these two are Aramis and Porthos," Mia yaps.

"Here we go," I hear Tyler mumble under his breath, all while doing some texting done on his iPhone.

Tyler is taking a break all by himself from university. He has never been a fan of the D.C. Unfortunately, the opportunity of studying there was bigger than his personal preferences, so he packed his bags and shipped himself off to the capital. Now, he's regretting ever going there, so he makes up for his discomfort by dumping his lectures and crashing at our place several times a month. Reckless, I know. But my parents are too busy to notice.

Or really care.

"No, I'm Athos," I object, raising my voice over my friends', "because you're Ron from the Golden Trio. I've wanted to be Ron but you took him all for yourself, biash."

"Well, that's because I'm the redhead of the squad, dimwit," Mia smirks. "Plus, what's so bad about Harry?"

I groan, "It's not Harry. I just don't... I don't want to be someone who the world sees as a hero."

"And what is Athos, then?" Ella folds her arms over her chest.

I stutter, "Well, um, Athos is different. He might be the eldest and the most courageous, but the Musketeers all share the same honor. People don't rate them according to who is more of a hero. And-"

"I'm gonna have to cut this nerd off right now," Tyler breaks in, his hands over his head. "My brain cells just committed suicide."

"That explains your sudden brain lag," I state matter-of-factly, receiving high fives from my (only) fans (a.k.a Ella and Mia).

"I'm outta here," Tyler raises both hands and escapes, admitting his defeat.

"Okay, so what's for lunch, Oyra?" Mia asks me.

"You seriously trust me with your lives to let me go anywhere near the stove?" I smirk.

"Erm. Well, since no one here can get in and out of the kitchen without setting something on fire, let's just order pizza or something," Ella says.

Mia fishes out her phone. "Agreed."

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It was 9 pm when Ella and Mia left. They both group-hugged me for a couple of hours before letting me go. Even Mia, who usually shrugged off my groans whenever the topic of the infamous Fate test came up, was a little worried for me, and she told me that she'll throw me a huge party when it's all over (which, to be fair, wasn't one bit reassuring, but don't tell her that).

"Hi, sweety." My bed creaks as Dad settles on it, placing a steaming hot mug of hot chocolate (with tiny marshmallows chunks) on my bedside table. I instantly know that this is his way of apologizing for being out all day.

"Hey, Pop." I close my novel and almost sigh heavily, but I keep the distressed breath hitched inside of me. I didn't want to worry him by letting slip any sign that I am, in reality, freaking out.

"You ready for tomorrow? One of the managers called this evening and confirmed the meetup timing. We should be there around noon."

I nod and grab the mug of the hot content. I take a forced gulp out of it, in turn burning my tongue.

"Easy there," My dad grabs the mug from me. My eyes well up with tears because of the burning sensation, giving my jittery-self away. Bad-timing at its finest.

"Oh, Moira," Dad says sadly, rubbing my back soothingly. "I know it won't be easy. I know you shouldn't be going through this. I'd do anything for the world to save you from this. I want you to know that I'm not supporting this whole fortune-telling thing, but you probably understand that it's necessary for everyone. And who knows, maybe they're right. Knowing your future might be the scariest thing you can attain, but, for all we know, this might help shape who you are."

I sigh. "You're probably right."

I said that because I didn't want my father to sense my diffidence. In fact, the whole thing stirs doubt in me: going through all of these processes just to give us full insight into the unknown when we can just live our lives like the thousands of generations before us did. It's as though those founders want to use technology to serve us fully, and to even take from us the privileges of being able and humane. Like they want machinery to own us and operate our lives, our bodies, our souls.

It doesn't make sense. What do these people truly want from us?

"Good night, love." Dad kisses my forehead twice. "This is from your mom; she's currently dozing off because she's exhausted."

"Okay. Night," I say before closing my eyes. I play with my chocolate brown hair to distract myself from my thoughts until my arms grow drained and my mind goes half-conscious...

The darkness shifts into a familiar setting: a luxurious balcony looking out on the array of lilacs surrounding a porcelain fountain. Of course, I recognize it as what was the house of my best friend, who passed away one year ago. Her name was Lara. Her dad, Marcus Delton, is a major contributor to the Techno Seer project, so he was almost always away on work quests. During the time he was not home, especially the few weeks before Lara passed away, which to her was a time of constant nightmares and panic episodes, I stayed over to keep her company. So, the house was all Lara's and mine.

In my dream, I glance at Lara, who was talking to me with a pained expression on her face. I can't really decipher what the topic was about. However, despite the hazy aura of the virtual place, I could make out the dark halos swallowing up the beautiful sparkle of her hazel eyes. Her cheeks were hollow. I now remember: that was just a day before the accident that stole her life away.

In the dream, it's one of those nights where we just sat and talked. She was telling me about something she wasn't content with. Probably about her father, or her 6-months old relationship with her volleyball teammate, Nich.

Before I could try to make out the issue that she was so absorbed into, my dream shifts to something else: to someplace entirely unfamiliar. I am standing atop a high hill overlooking the ocean. There are three other hills on either side of me, and atop each one stands a person. On the furthest hill to the right, I recognize the brown hair and the slightly angled body that belong to Lara. A howling storm forces me to focus on my foothold; the uneven earth below me could disintegrate any second. One current almost makes me lose footing, and I yelp in surprise.

I look at Lara with fear in my eyes, and I find she's mirroring my expression.

But then the horizon closes in from the east, carrying a ghastly mist in its wake. Lara stiffens for a split second before cutting through the hollers of the wind with a deafening scream.

"LARA!" I cry out, reaching out my hand to her in futility. Her young eyes travel to mine from afar for a moment, and I see in them unprecedented terror: the doing of this moment and of the past few weeks.

"Hold on. My brothers will save us from this. I know they will," I yell, knowing that she might not hear me, but trying to fill her with a sliver of hope.

But then, in a moment, the mist, like a shark looking for game, swallows her in one stride.

The wind blew harder, outraged. But with every passing second, my foot held on to the ground, like it was forged out of the earth. The others stood still as well, unfazed by the adverse gale. Why hadn't the soil held tight to my best friend like it did us?

I awake at once, bumping my head against the headboard. My eyes are squinted as I look at my phone to check the time. 11 in the morning.

Time to come to terms with my fate.

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'ullo sirs and madames! This is chapter one of "Conquer the Odds". If y'all liked it support moi or I'll hunt you down and murda you, arright?

Love,
Freude and Luna ♪