The stone cavity echoed with dozens of small breathings and the awkward shuffling of chairs and tables. Lighting pulsed from glowing orbs, the color of tangerines, positioned near the walls throughout the room. Every child in the room was silent out of fear of disobeying and out of sheer contentment that today was another day of school. Eilig sat at the back left of the room, at an ancient wooden desk with years of scratches and pen marks. Everyone else's desks were identical: a heart scrawled an inch from the corner, a deep, inch-long scratch on the side. The silence was contagious until a woman entered the room, with the features of a hare clutching a clipboard, needle-like claws holding the soft wood in place. "Good morning, students." An immediate response echoed from the motionless children in the room, including Eilig. A girl's large, soot-colored ears moved away from him briefly. “Please get out your books.” Eilig reached into her school bag, pulling out a heavy book. As the woman stepped down from the front of the room, identical books fell into place on the desks. On the inside cover of the book we read the Civilian Agreement: Stay within the lines. Be a helpful member of your community. Stay in your house at night. Do no harm. Appreciate beauty. Next to the last one was an image of the bright lights and the indigo city, in color amidst the black and white of the rest of the text. He began reading the assigned section. 200 years ago our brave State fought to eradicate the world of war and the supreme sin of independent thoughts. Before our society was founded, there were countless wars, genocides, and mutual hatred, all caused by people's individual brains. Here, in the present, we... middle of paper... something unspeakable." Eilig nodded, crestfallen. "You know." He paused. "And for this reason you were asked to be eliminated." Disposed of? What does that mean? He couldn't speak. She stood up, without saying anything else, and walked over to him, stroking the fur on his head. She giggled, in a bittersweet voice. “Stupid-looking invention, indeed, Survival Technology . It makes me feel like I'm in a fairy tale." He returned to the desk and pressed a button, speaking into the microphone. “Come and take it away.” A young doe entered the room, eyes glassy and black, with markings like Eilig and a face like Eilig. She put her hands over his mouth before he could scream and led him away. Tears blurred his vision. Then, turning a corner, she pushed him through an open door into an empty room, closing the door behind him. Smoke began to pour.