As I work in the fields the next day, I can't seem to get the elitist from the market out of my mind. Why was he so secretive? People like him don't associate with srats unless they are trying to show off their wealth. For him to have been dressed as one of us, he must have been desperate for something. I wonder what would cause an elitist to lower himself to the standards of the srats. I suppose it doesn't really matter; I need to focus on my job. I can't afford to lose the income.

It is hot out today, over a hundred degrees. Harvesting is one of the few jobs the elitists have actual people working instead of robots. After I turned sixteen, I dropped out of school and started working odd jobs to help provide for the family. I took the elitist tests and never told my family the results because I refuse to abandon them the way Lillian did. I could have been one of the best; my score was so high, they made me retake all the tests. It was the highest scores they had ever seen, and I was offered many internships. However, I had no interest in becoming like them.

I have been working on a plan for Joy and me to take the required tests for the isolation camps. Since I was technically eighteen, I could declare my mother mentally unfit to take care of Joy. If I could gain temporary custody, I would be able to sign off on the papers for Joy. The only problem is the courts don't care about the issues of srats. In fact, since it is easier for them to just continue to allow mother to have legal custody of us, they simply will ignore any complaint I could file.

Looking at the sun, I realize it is almost time for our lunch break. Some of the srats can afford synced watches, but most of us just hope for a working watch if we are lucky. A synced watch doesn't just tell the time, it grants the owner access to all news reports coming live out of the elitists' labs. It also allows them to communicate with other synced watch owners. Music is also is a popular feature. The synced watches allow the owner to listen to any of Revere's four radio stations. Instrumental music, lyrical music, news, and dramatic story readings make up Revere's four radio stations.

The only time I ever got to listen to one of the stations was at work during an elitist's experiment. She had hypothesized that we would work faster when allowed to listen to music, so the owner, Mr. Bartley, allowed a one week trial in the fields he owned. At the end of the experiment, the elitist concluded that while productivity of the workers increased, quality decreased. Mr. Bartley decided he would rather not have to pay for the monthly special license fee necessary to be permitted to broadcast a station to a workforce. That was the last time I ever listened to one of the radio stations.

"The lunch break for the day shift will now commence. All employees are to be back in twenty minutes. As always, anyone late returning to their job will be immediately fired."

The prerecorded announcement is the same every day. At least once a week, someone will come sprinting in just a few seconds late hoping they will be lucky and their tardiness will go unnoticed. They are always immediately escorted off premises and their job is terminated.

For lunch today, I have the provided rations just like every day. This week's rations appear to be some kind of soup with chicken...I think. With the soup is a dry sliver of bread. Clearly, I am living a life of luxury.

Students at school are provided with healthy balanced meals. After finishing school, anyone who doesn't join the elitists ends up with old rations with portions barely big enough to feed a bird.

By the time work is finished for the day, I am so hungry. The train ride back to my town is short despite the distance because the trains travel up to two hundred and fifty miles per hour.

"Mom, I'm home," I call out as I enter the house. She used to have a job, but now she just stays home and occasionally watches the neighbor's children for food or some other small trinket of gratitude.

"How was your day dear?"

"Same as always, no one lost their job today which is always good. How was your day?" I responded absentmindedly.

"Great! I went into town today to turn our family's applications for the isolation camps at city hall."

"Why would you do that?" I yelled panicking. We haven't taken the required medical tests meaning any applications she turned in must have been incomplete making them invalid.

"How could you do that to us? The news announcement last night said invalid applications will be immediately discarded. We will never get into an isolation community now. If the plague is spread through contact, then we will all die! Since they don't know how it is spread you just put us all at risk." I can't save Joy now. Each family is only allowed one set of applications. How could my own mother do that to us?

"Your father never would have wanted us to submit to such tests. I don't care if we can't get into one of the camps. It is better this way." She responds calmly, not even flinching at my accusations. How can she not care? She just ruined our only chance at safety.

"Dad would have wanted us to be safe, not in danger. Those camps are our only chance and now we will never get in."

"Your opinion on the camps does not matter. It is too late now for you to do anything about it. There are things about your father you don't know. Now go pick up Joy from Mrs. Summers; Joy is helping her clean. The camps will not be mentioned again in my house."

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