The hollow stone echoed with dozens of small breathings and the awkward shuffling of chairs and tables. Lighting pulsed, from glowing orbs, the color of tangerines, placed near the walls throughout the room. All the children in the room were silent, out of fear of disobeying and pure satisfaction at the fact that today was another school day. Eilig sat in the far left of the room, at an old wooden desk with years of scratches and pen marks. Everyone else's desks were identical: a heart scrawled inches from the corner, a deep scratch an inch long on the side. The silence was contagious until a woman entered the room, with hare-like features, she held a paperweight, needle-like claws holding the soft wood in place. “Hello, students.” An instant response echoed among the motionless children in the room, including Eilig. A girl's large, soot-colored ears flicked briefly in front of him. “Please take out your books.” Eilig reached into her schoolbag and pulled out a large book. As the woman left the front of the room, identical books fell into place on the desks. On the inside cover of the book, read the civil agreement: Stay within limits. Be a helpful member of your community. Stay at home at night. Do no harm. Appreciate the beauty. Next to the last one was an image of the glowing lights and the indigo city, in color amid the black and white of the rest of the text. He began reading the assigned section. 200 years ago, our brave state fought to eradicate the world of war and the ultimate sin of independent thought. Before our society was founded, there were countless wars, genocides, and hatred towards each other, all caused by people's individual brains. Here, in the present, we... in the middle of paper... something unspeakable. Eilig nodded, mortified. "You know." She paused. “And for this reason, he has been asked to dispose of you.” Eliminated? What does this mean? He couldn't speak. She stood up, without another word, and walked towards him, stroking the fur of his deer head. She laughed, her voice bittersweet. “A stupid invention, really, Survival Technology. I feel like I'm in a fairy tale. She returned to her desk and pressed a button, speaking into a microphone. “Come and take him away.” A young doe came into the room, eyes glassy and black, with markings like Eilig and a face like Eilig. She put her hands over his mouth before he could scream and guided him. Tears obscured his vision. Then, turning a corner, she pushed him through an open door into an empty room, locking the door behind him. The smoke started to pour.