For the very first time in my life, I have received a letter. Not a letter that was written on paper and sealed, but an a letter that was delivered to me by messenger droids.
It is the summer of 2065. I have just come home from a rough day at school – a day that involved a lot of awkwardness and embarrassment. Sometimes, I even wonder whether I am a normal human being – I just cause too much trouble for a typical eleven-year-old without knowing it. As I cursed under my breath and trudged my boots lazily while walking on Thurman Street, I heard the sound of a bicycle bell ringing.
"Hey there, Margot!" said Quinn Owens, my best friend. "How's fifth grade going for ya?"
I grinned. Quinn Owens dropped out of school two years ago, barely finishing eighth grade. He delivers newspapers around the neighborhood and cleans neighbor's yards for a living. He only lives with his grandma, Granny Lydia, who's unfortunately too old too care about the fact that her grandson has dropped out from school. "Another crappy day as usual. How's yours?"
He laughed and parked his bike on a sidewalk, getting off it. "The Verdes is a happy bunch. Their devil bulldog tried chasing me around their garden as I plucked the weeds – and guess what, Mrs. Verde literally scolded me for provoking her 'poor little doggie'. Sucks, right?"
I nodded and laughed. I reached for my jacket pocket and found a piece of bread I hasn't eaten for recess. "Here," I said, throwing him the bread, "something for you to find pleasure in. T.K. baked that."
Quinn bowed mockingly. "Thank you, Miss Margot." he looked around him cautiously, as if expecting a lion to pounce on us. I looked around too. "I've gotta go now," he whispered, mounting on his bike, "I've got errands to run. Maybe we'll meet again next time –"
"See you, Quinn!" I called after him, but he was already cycling down the street. I sighed and pocketed my hands in my now empty jacket pockets. Quinn has been acting strangely lately – at first I thought it was because he was so occupied with his work and taking care of his grandma. When I opened this subject matter to T.K. one day, she replied, "The Sapphires restrict teenagers from the age of fifteen to eighteen to get in contact with anyone else."
"Why?" I pressed on. T.K.'s lips grew white.
"I don't know why, Margot. Ever since Govenor Red became the president three years ago, he said that he would make our country 'a better place'. Unfortunately, his plan involved using teenagers for some governmental experiment no one knows what it is about. They started disappearing one by one."
I shuddered at that thought. In four years I would be fifteen years old, and I would finally know the truth about the vanishing teenagers – although I myself would be one of them by that time. Quinn was already sixteen, and there were times when I didn't see him at all.
I turned around the corner and walked towards Greenstone Apartment, where I lived. I knocked heavily on No. 8's door while shouting, "I'm home!"
I heard someone running from the inside and the sound of latches being opened. T.K. stood before me, breathing heavily. "I can't fly, Margot," she said, "so don't expect me to be by the door in a second."
T.K. served me hot cocoa and a large raisin muffin in a tray as I removed my shoes and my jacket. "How's school?" she asked, putting the tray on the table in front of the couch.
"Nothing much," I replied, taking a bite of the raisin muffin. I felt the juicy raisin in my tongue, as well as the rough wheat of the muffin. "Nothing much" meant more like "I got bullied again by Ryan Stone and failed another geometry test."
T.K. raised her eyebrows but didn't say anything. Tabitha Katherine Wales, or T.K. for short, was my motherly figure and had been taking care of me since I was five. I never really knew who my real parents were; instead, I knew T.K. to be my "mom". T.K. used to be working as a secret agent or something for the Sapphires, until her "next mission" was to take care of an orphan named Margot Kaia. She was a tall, slender woman who's main talent is multitasking, and who bakes one of the most amazing muffins and breads in the whole world. We've been living here in Greenstone Apartment for as long as I can remember, and we've been sharing rooms with at least five people throughout the years. That's how overpopulation works.
"I'll be working on Callie," I said, after finishing my muffin in silence. T.K. was washing the dishes by the kitchen sink, and nodded. Callie was the name I've given to the droid I'm currently working on. I've always hoped that someone would start organizing my closets and prepare all of my things for me, so I made Callie.
Before I even step foot on the staircase, a tiny, stick-like robot came dashing into our house through the kitchen window. T.K. screamed as it flew over her and hovered on top of the table. It was as big as my thumb, had a big red light that kept on blinking. "Darn these messenger droids, they keep on zooming in without any warning!" T.K. grumbled.
"I've got mail for Miss Margot Kaia Wales," the droid said in a monotone voice, its red light blinking rapidly. I stepped forward. I've never seen such thing in my life – so I don't really know what to do when I see it. The droid must've sensed me because it said: "This is from Vice President Christopher Earlstone, address: 1 Yellow Avenue, the Sapphires House."
T.K. and I exchanged looks warily. A letter from the Vice President? That was strange. T.K. and I barely got any letters – and our very first one happened to come from the Vice President himself.
"He will be appointing a meeting with you on the 3rd of March of the year 2065, Tuesday, 12 noon. Confidential matter. See you soon."