Fanfiction to Scott Westerfeld's Uglies Triology
Don't Panic
Chapter One
My name was Ken Avery. I was not saved because I am anything out of the ordinary. I have brown hair and brown eyes. I can throw a Frisbee about three feet in front of me and always get picked last for any other sporting events. I made decent grades in school. I had a few friends and no one special in my life. I had a mother, a father, and a sister.
I do not have a name anymore. I have a number. I am number 109. I have no hair because of the all the treatments. I have not been outside in what feels like months. I cannot tell you if I am still able to move more than my mouth and right hand. I do not know if school is still an option. I do not know if I still have friends. I do know this: I am alone.
My name is Nick. I have been told for the purpose of this assignment to keep my statements as vague as possible. They do not want to get into trouble because I was underage. I know what they did was illegal. I know that ethics and professionalism was tossed to the wayside for the purpose of this experiment. I know that even if given another chance I would take it in an instant. I am here because my Other is here.
The difference between animals and humans is this: instincts. Sure, when you are in school they tell you that we all have an instinct. They also tell you that mothers imprint on their babies. Both of these statements are false. Well, almost false. Humans are not born with instincts; humans are born with reflexes. These reflexes help babies survive. The rooting reflex allows babies to feed from its mother. The grasping reflex helps to develop fine motor skills. There are other reflexes but, in the end they are all mute. Eventually synaptic pruning takes hold of everyone's mind and guess what…humans lose all their reflexes. Gone like they were never there at all. Humans are left defenseless to the world.
My professors theorized that humans evolved to discard these reflexes because they were already so advanced these basic reflexes would only take up space in the grey matter.
I theorized that humans were overly confident. If I could compare the human race to anything it would be The Titanic. Hey, God! See how great we are? We are so great nothing we do will ever hurt us! Isn't that great?
The thing about confidence is this: too little and you get your ass knocked to the ground and too much, er, you get your ass knocked to the ground.
The trick in life is to find your happy medium quickly and never let it go.
I used to think like everyone else: humans can do no wrong. Not entirely that cut and dry but, you get the point. No one ever thought that this would happen. It's not we woke up one day and thought the end of the world was right around the corner. No Mayan calendar or U.F.O. hoax occurred after all. One day, everyone woke up, went outside to collect their morning paper, and then was face to face with the end of the world.
The sky was dark violet with golden swirls sparking in every direction. Nothing was stagnant. Gold and violet churned unsettlingly. I remember it like it was yesterday. Hell, it was yesterday.
I went outside, picked up my paper, and stared. What was I even looking at? I knew it was bad but, the sky had been producing all sorts of weird hues lately. The weatherman told us that there was a new gas being produced due to the burning of fossil fuels. I am not an idiot and knew that what he was feeding me was complete bullshit but, sometimes it's easier to take everything at face value than investigate. Not everything needs an answer.
While I was busy staring at the sky, probably looking as foolish as everyone else that morning a phone rang from inside my home. Seriously, the sky churned violet and had sparking gold swirls, what else could we do but gawk. It took my until a pair of hands wrapped around my shoulder and tugged me backwards before I realized what was going on. We had to go. Now.
A few weeks ago there was an advertisement going around. It was a pretty bland ad with as little writing as possible. The facts were these: they wanted people of identical likeness and similar nurturing, preferably between the ages eighteen and twenty-two, and were from the same gene pool. There was a brief mention of a healthy compensation and that's all it took for me to call the number and sign myself up. I knew what I was doing at the time was wrong. I didn't even consider if my sister wanted to join too. We needed the money and I was tired of her thinking of alternative ways to make quick cash. The further in debt we fell the more I could feel her looking at every street corner for a job.
After I made the call, hours later a man with a well-tailored suit came to our house and finished up the paperwork. My sister had decided to behave and go along with the plan. When her hand slid over the document it shook leaving an inky blue line over the words. We might as well have signed that thing in blood.
The whole thing seemed like easy money. We went in every day to a clinic to get our blood drawn and an MRI done. At the end of the session a therapist, Molly, would sit us down and ask us how we felt about each other. I would like to say that this is the most bizarre way we've had to make money but, donating alternative skin was probably the winner at the time.
Anyways, the day of the violet sky my sister grabbed me inside and we put the phone on the speaker phone. It was our employer. The instructions were simple enough: get on the next bus heading to Glen Ridge, New Jersey and wait for a sign.
The sign turned out to be a literal sign. The same man who helped us with our contracts stood outside the bus stop with a sign that read "Kendall and Nikole Avery."
It's about this moment when the world goes blank.
The next time I remember opening my eyes there was nothing to see but darkness. I thought I was blind or dead. Spoiler: I was neither. I was a survivor. A survivor of what will be later known as The Rusty Panic.