Defy the Dark Read Online Free Page A

ended with most of Africa turned into a nuclear wasteland. It was a whole new Dark Age, characterized by the rise—and subsequent fall—of several high-control autocracies, theocracies, plutocracies, and just plain crazies.
    â€œDoomed to failure,” our government books say. And they were right. Human beings are too free-spirited to thrive under so much control. It’s a concept we learn from our youth. Besides, in such a government, the balance is so precarious, it only takes one strong rebel to topple everything.
    That’s how New Horizon came to be. Founded by Stewart Richardson—a runaway from a totalitarian dictatorship—our community rejects the idea that a governing body should control our lives. But Richardson also knew that we had to avoid another Great Collapse (the proper name for what most people just call the Baby Bust). So, as a society, we give up a small part of our freedom for the benefits of a well-ordered community. In return, we have strict laws protecting the freedoms we most value.
    It always made sense to me. How could it not?
    Until five days ago.
    One hundred and eight. My test score.
    It’s black and white; one hundred and over become Nurture. Ninety and under become Labor.
    Ninety-one to ninety-nine are Nature.
    If my hips weren’t so big, I would have been Nurture for sure. Every inch over thirty drags down your score if you’re female. For males, it’s about chest circumference.
    I saw the number the nurse marked down for my hip measurement. It brings my final score down to ninety-nine.
    I scoop up a large spoonful of pudding and stuff the whole thing into my mouth, feeling the tingle of butterscotch on my tongue. For a moment—only a moment—it is me and my butterscotch in a world of pleasure that nothing and no one can touch.
    Until I realize tears are streaming down my cheeks.
    Natures are exactly average. I don’t want to be average. I understand why our society is built around the mathematical median. Extremes cannot sustain themselves. Everyone knows that. It’s the most basic principle, taught by Richardson to my ancestors two hundred and fifty years ago, when New Horizon was established. New Horizon has lasted longer than any country since the Bust, because we know that the answer to the age-old question of Nature versus Nurture is . . . neither.
    And both.
    Halfway. A median point. Median intelligence, median education. That’s what produces the most perfect human beings. The most balanced human beings. Cutting out the extremes keeps things stable.
    But Richardson also understood that even the median can be taken to an extreme. Those are the more complicated philosophies, the ones they teach you when you’re a Nurture—the ways to maintain the balance that keeps our community alive. I was going to spend the rest of my life learning about those ways, but one of them I already know. Everyone knows; the physical markers of females who are likely to be healthy mothers and produce healthy babies.
    Good hips.
    Wide hips.
    One inch. And my plans for the rest of my life are shattered.
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    T here is no ceremony. No elaborate good-byes. No awards or medals of distinction. It’s just life. In the year we turn sixteen, at the end of March, we separate and go on to our assigned roles. It’s the one big freedom we’ve given up to our governors. For our own good.
    It always made sense to me.
    Until five days ago.
    There are no tears or heartfelt partings; it’s not like we won’t see each other. Nature, Nurture, Labor, we all mingle freely—a freedom that’s heavily protected—but like those proverbial birds of a feather, each classification tends to flock together.
    To be honest, I’ve never before given it a second thought. We all have different kinds of jobs. What Laborer wants their work interrupted by a chatty Nurture, anyway? Learning doesn’t come easily to them, and they’re