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myself, as if that would somehow stop the chill running along my spine.
    “No, nothing like that.” Again he sounded amused with me. I glared back at him, unwilling to be the source of his entertainment.
    “Why on Earth would anyone want to take a job where they could never see any of their friends or family again?” I actually stomped my foot in frustration, but then realized how childish I was behaving. So, I put on what I hoped was a stoic look, and waited for an answer that wasn’t the obvious lack of said friends and family.
    “Because, Brett, you’d be part of something that could change the future of mankind. You could be part of something important, where you could really make a difference. Besides, at this point you don’t have anything to lose, and there’s so much you can gain.” His voice was soft and sympathetic, but it drove home the brutal truth: I had no one, nothing to miss and no one to miss me. It didn’t matter where, or exactly what, his special project was; it had to be better than the future I was currently facing. Wherever I ended up, it would be better than staying here.
    I let out a long, defeated sigh. “Okay, fine. What do you need me to do now?” I swallowed hard: my control over life had all but dissipated.
    “Nothing. We’ll take care of the details. All you’ll need to do is pack any small, non-clothing personal items you want to bring with you.” He stood, giving me a broad smile as he shook my hand. “You’ve just made the best decision of your life, Miss Bradbury.”
    I wanted to believe him, but I had a heavy, sinking feeling in my chest.
     
    The nurse stops in front of a door my chamber. I swallow hard as she opens the door. She asks me to stand facing the container. I try not to compare its shape and size to that of a coffin. Instead, I focus on keeping the back of my flimsy thin hospital gown closed as I step in front of her. But even that is pointless. I feel her untie the two little bows that precariously hold it together.
      “Please remove the booties, step in and turn around to face me,” she directs with a cold, indifferent voice. I resist rolling my eyes. You’d think I would get a little bit of sympathy, considering I’m about to spend the next several centuries in this metal box.
    She busies herself connecting different stickers with wires to my skin under the gown. I assume they’re meant to monitor me during my sleep. She warns me that it will hurt for a second, and I feel the pinch of a needle as she connects some kind of IV to me. Then she removes the gown. The one thing they neglected to mention to me when describing everything is that I’d have to be naked. I’m mortified at the idea of spending my years naked. Even if there isn’t anyone around to see, it’s horrifying. Not to mention that when I wake up I’ll still have no clothes on.
    Fortunately, I’m only mortified for a moment. Whatever is in the IV is quickly doing its job. My eyelids already weigh a ton, and I can hardly keep them open. My mind feebly attempts one last round of doubts and worries about all that could go wrong, and then I am asleep.
     
    I was taken from the foster care center the same day I spoke with John. I brought with me a small grocery bag holding the few precious things I had left: my MP3 player, some family pictures, a gold chain and cross given to me for my confirmation, and my father’s wedding band. My mother’s rings never made it back from the Caribbean. Somehow the ring was ‘lost or misplaced’. Of all the objects I once had and valued, so darned little of it held any real meaning or importance for me.
     
    I spent the next week with a group of girls at what I think was part of the CTA’s center. We spent half the time being poked, prodded and examined by doctors. The other half was spent taking test after test. Before long, the tests all blended together. They all seemed to be one kind of aptitude test or another. Frankly, I was getting tired of