The letter in my hands feels heavy, paper made of lead. I notice a bit of wax underneath my fingernail from where I'd broken the seal earlier in front of Colonel Northwoods and Advisor Barrows. Normally a dirty fingernail would bother me, but I simply do not have enough mental energy to care.

I'm back at home; Barrows, thankfully, immediately excused me from the final school day and assured me my personal effects would be delivered to our home after cabinet inspections were complete. I didn't even have time to see Cel before I found my feet carrying me home on autopilot, but not before I stopped in the sanitation room and vomited my pancakes and strawberries from that morning. The pink looked almost like blood. Mother and father still hadn't left for work yet when I returned, and were shocked to see me.

"Let me read it again, please." Mother gently takes the letter from my hands and her eyes scan it frantically, even though we have already been over it a dozen times. She purses her lips with determination and I know she's searching for an explanation and an excuse, just like I had. "We won't be providing any more detail than this," was all Colonel Northwoods had offered me, which was essentially nothing. By this point I'd memorized the letter's contents, there wasn't much:

On Friday, The 30th day of Month 5, Myra Cleary is to report to the Justice Corps entry processing kiosk at the rail station immediately following the Career Selection process. This information is classified and protected.

"Wells, perhaps you could ask around at the government offices for an explanation--"

"No, no," Father cuts her off, shaking his head. "Something like this is far, far beyond anything here in New Orville. This had to have come from the Capitol. This must be directly from the High Office."

Mother sighs and buries her face in her hands, holding the letter limply between her fingers. Father wraps an arm around her shoulders and stares out the front window, expression impossible to read. I feel a pang of something noxious in my gut. It's my letter. My future. Why do I have to be the one to act like I'm not scared, terrified even?

Mother looks up and I know that her sixth sense, that thing that makes her such a good Counselor, has kicked in. "Myra, dear, you've been awfully quiet. Do you need to say something?"

"I'm not sure," I admit after taking a deep pause.

"What is in your brain?" Mother smiles weakly; this is how she used to say it when I was just a little girl. I can't help but smile a little too.

"A lot, but also nothing," I admit. "I don't understand why I've been Assigned... I wonder if I should be apprehensive. And I wonder how this will alter my future."

"The Justice Corps is a noble place to spend a career," Father offers hopefully. "You're intelligent, capable, driven... I have no doubt you can be successful there," he assures me. "If this indeed comes from the High Office, we should all be proud that they have come to hand select you from among all your peers."

"Maybe you're right," I say, and a small seed of hope sprouts somewhere deep in my chest. It's tiny, but it's there.

Mother looks up at the clock and shakes her head. "I need to leave soon, I have quite a few sessions at the Healthcare Center and several at the school building in the afternoon." Her hand clasps mine tightly. "Do you want me to cancel them today, dear? I can--"

"No, Mom, please." I squeeze her hand hard in return. "They need you there."

"You need me too," She replies carefully. Her fingers wind their way to my bun and she gently removes my hair tie, letting my shoulder-length dark hair fall messily around my face. "There, that should feel better."

"I'll be okay, I promise." I brush my hair from my eyes and smile weakly.

"Maybe I'll wander into the office a little late," Father says, standing slowly. "How does a walk around the neighborhood sound, kiddo?"

He hasn't called me that in years, and I find I like it. "Sounds good, old man," I joke, and he laughs. He leans to mother and gives her a light peck on the cheek, then takes each of our hands in one of his. "Everything will be just fine, I'm sure."

Before we leave I change out of my school tunic into a simple shirt and athletic pants and realize that I will never have to wear the school uniform again. I wonder briefly what the Justice Corps training uniform will look like and feel another stab of anxiety, but shove it down. One bridge at a time, I remind myself; it's another thing Father says all the time.

We set off into the warm spring morning without a word. The taste of summer hangs fresh in the air and I'm glad that New Orville is thousands of miles from the Capitol, where the air was ruined in the old country by pollution and radiation. In school we learned that the Capitol is surrounded by many many miles of wasteland unfit for human habitation because of the mistakes of the Old Country. Father travels there occasionally for work, but has never spoken of it much; just that he stays indoors where the air is safe.

We turn down a narrow lane with young trees on both sides and pass the playground in the grassy little park in the center of the neighborhood. It's empty now, but most afternoons there are at least a dozen primary school children playing there. Father stops and looks around; I know what's coming.

"You know, before you were born there was nothing here," He says. He takes his glasses off, fogs them with his breath, and carefully cleans them on his tunic. "Well, that's not technically correct. There was something here: a pile of ashes."

"You know, when I was assigned to this town after the Restructuring, there were only fifty three families here. Electricity came from oil-fuel generators that belched smoke and the water had to be boiled or you would get sick, perhaps even die from disease. Nothing would grow here because the soil was full of chemicals and toxins." He turns briefly to me with a tired smile. "I know you know this. Your history marks were always perfect, no surprise there." I feel a blush rise to my cheeks. Praise has always felt awkward, but it felt so different from him, so... genuine.

"I've lived in this valley for just over twenty years, now, and look how much it's changed!" He gestures broadly to the dwellings, the pants, the colors, the progress. "New Orville has over fourteen-thousand residents, more than enough comfortable dwellings, a town center with regional government offices, sustainable resources, and virtually no crime of any sort. Progress always wins, doesn't it?" He smiles widely and I return it. If anyone deserves to feel proud of their work, it's Father.

He wraps an arm around my shoulders and pulls me in close. Father is a head taller than me and it feels good to be protected. "My point is, kiddo, is that your future is what you make of it. When I was your age and joined the Engineering Division, I thought I was going to design grand buildings, or invent the next high speed transport, or even restore the Capitol air quality so it was safe again. Instead, I was shipped two thousand miles away to this dreary valley to try to rescue a failed resettlement that had seen no progress in fifteen years. I don't know why your Assignment is what it is, but I know that you, my wonderful daughter, can change the world no matter where you are."

He wraps me in a full hug, obviously ignoring the fact that public displays of family affection are frowned upon, and time seems to stand still. A tear slides down my cheek, watering the tiny seed of hope in my chest. I press my face harder into his tunic and take a few deep breaths, trying not to break down sobbing. Everything that has filled me with dread for the last few weeks seems to leak out of me in my silent tears: my indecision, my fear of leaving my family, the pressure of my future. They all disappear into Father's tunic.

"Dad?" We've been standing in the embrace for longer than I can tell. I don't want to move but I know I need to collect myself.

"Hmm?" The sound vibrates from deep in his chest, where my head is pressed. I slowly pull away and find it hard to look him in the eye.

I struggle to pull the words from my mouth. "I... I didn't have a Career selected yet this morning when I got the letter. I was just... just having so much trouble trying to find something where I could make a difference. Like you." I blink back a few fresh tears. "I'm sorry I lied."

Father doesn't say anything for a few long moments. When I look up, he's grinning devilishly at me. "I know," he says with a short laugh.

My eyes widen in surprise and I pull back. "What? You knew? How? You just asked me about that this morning!"

"You're completely forgetting my place on the school building Civilian Advisory Panel, we meet with the Dean and the Advisors once a month." His smile remains. "Our last meeting was on Monday, and the Dean asked me if you were waiting to announce your Career selection just to make the staff nervous. You are quite popular with your instructors, you know; they just want to see you succeed."

I blush again and groan, pressing my face into his tunic for a moment longer before retreating and wiping my eyes. "Why didn't you say anything?" I ask cautiously.

"I have the utmost confidence in you," Father answers, gripping my shoulders in his hands. "I knew that, if my daughter had a reason for keeping that from her parents, she must have a good reason for it."

"Does Mother know?" Father offers me his handkerchief and I clean myself up.

"I saw no reason to worry her," he replies simply. I hand him his handkerchief back. "Feeling better?"

"I think so," I answer truthfully. "Thank you."

"Of course."

We return home after circling the neighborhood and Father has to go to work, which leaves me home alone. Without any school work to do and with nothing left to clean or organize before I leave home, I spend my time reading through my history books and browse the national news on our family computer tablet, searching for anything about the Justice Corps that can be of any help to me.

Unfortunately, there isn't much information available in either place, which isn't terribly surprising. Given the insurrection that occurred just before the Restructuring, the High Office keeps most matters important to safety and security out of the hands of would-be rebels. So, instead I find myself reading about the death of the Old Country, the birth of the Nation, the troubled times and insurrection, and then the Restructuring ones again. I don't even realize that I've been reading for a few hours until the door buzzer rings just past lunchtime.

"Alright, buddy, you have some explaining to do!" Cel hardly waits for me to even open the door before barging straight into our dwelling and tossing her bookbag down on the couch, then flopping down next to it like she's just run a marathon. "Francis said he saw you coming out of Barrows' office with some kind of police officer or something, and that you were arrested, which probably isn't true 'cause Francis is mostly an idiot." She raises an eyebrow at me. "So, what's your story?"

My thoughts flash back to the letter: This information is classified and protected. I'm tempted to make something up, but Cel has been my friend since we were just a few years old; I decide telling one person can't possibly hurt.

"I don't get to pick my Career," I admit, steeling my nerves for her reaction. "I've been Assigned... to the Justice Corps."

Cel's eyes widen until they nearly pop out of her head. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. Then, suddenly she is upon me in a flash, crushing me in a bear hug. "Myra, that is so freaking cool!"

"Wait, cool?" This wasn't the reaction I was expecting at all. Cel holds me at arms length and is positively beside herself. "What are you talking about?"

"I've never heard of anyone being Assigned!" Cel continues excited, plowing right over the top of my words. "Deferred, sure, which is what we were afraid was going to happen to you, but even if that happened, I'm sure they still would have found something suitable for you, being top of the class and everything. But Assigned? Myra, that has to be a good thing, like you're some kind of super genius and they need you to work on secret projects for the Nation, or something!"

When she finally let's go of my shoulders, my head is reeling. "You don't think it could be something worse? Something... dangerous?"

"Of course it isn't dangerous, they wouldn't have you do it if it were," Cel asserts confidently. "Justice Corps isn't all danger, it's not like you're one of those meatheat sports-types that are always volunteering for Justice Corps because they want to beat up on criminals in the Capitol. Remember my cousin Jerome? He's a computer analyst or something in the Corps, he hardly even has to wear his uniform anymore." Cel sits down on the couch and pulls me down next to her, forcing me to lean into her shoulder. For a moment, I'm too tense to sit, but the feeling of familiar safety paralyzes me quickly.

"Look, I get that it's pretty scary," she says, rubbing my arm gently. "I think it will be a fantastic opportunity, and I couldn't be happier for my best friend." I look up at her and she grins rakishly. "Plus, there are only, like, one female for every five males in the Corps. I'm having a hard time not running back to Barrows' office to see if I can't make a last minute change myself!"

We share a laugh and I feel better again in the moment, just like I had after Father and I talked. Cel turns on the entertainment center and puts on a cinemadisk we've seen a half a dozen times before because of the heartthrob male actor that plays the main character. My mind drifts to the end of the week, wondering what will happen at the ceremony when everyone's name is called but mine.

The anxiety begins a slow, tentative creep back into my gut and I smash it down, leaning closer into Cel and letting her wrap an arm around my shoulders. Go away, I tell it silently. Go away, and don't come back. A part of me knows it's futile, but I want to enjoy the last hours of solace I have left without the weight of the unknown future crushing down on me. Soon, Mother and Father will be home and will fret and fuss over me as parents are supposed to, but for now, all I want to do is sink into this couch and forget that I exist for a while.

I stare up at the ceiling, which is an off-white with a little texture print, and wonder if the ceilings in my future will ever feel as safe and familiar as the ones here at home.