I was produced in a World One Incubation Center. When I came of age, I worked in a food production center, a facility that grew, packaged, and distributed “nutritious” spore food. I was to work as an inventory specialist until I was considered obsolescent or I reached the end of my life cycle. I would be escorted, then, to a Dome of Enduring Happiness to be euthanized and become spore fertilizer. My name is Sandaria.
Mine was not a happy or fulfilling existence. Relationships or meaningful conversations were limited to the rules, one’s duties, or other such trivial matters. In other words, relationships were discouraged, touching forbidden. Reproduction did not take place outside of incubation centers, and that was strictly monitored and regulated. Girls and women of age were subjected to monthly egg harvest, men to a progesterone block.
World One was all wrong. How could it be the greatest world that ever existed? This propaganda was repeated to us daily and from all corners including countertop holos imbedded in every one of our small, uniform apartments, or offices.
Pre-World-One history was carefully portrayed as one of war, hunger, and impoverishment. World One’s glaring contrast between the then and now was credited to our president, Armand Rockman, as were all so-called improvements.
I would learn the truth. So would others, those of us gifted. We became known as Light Seeders. Had it not been for esekiian Earth Tenders, the Light Seeders would be dead. As it was, we fled the domed cities where we remained hidden, visited by our teachers to help us expand both our skills and understanding of why we were such a threat to Armand Rockman.
During this time, we were hunted by World One military forces. The domed cities were under increasingly tightened laws.
Within a brief period, we were spotted. We ran again, but this time to our destiny. Armand Rockman met his destiny too.