Chapter Text
It is absolutely frigid at the classification testing facility. The testing facility is so sterile and devoid of color that it seems like no humans work here at all. Who would want to work in a place with such drab aesthetics? The floors were white, the walls were white, the receptionists are wearing white. Even the television playing quietly in the waiting room is just white noise. There is no way to actually hear what was playing on the screen--it was just loud enough to make it evident that something is playing, but too low to actually make out anything.
"Meghan," I hiss at my sister. "It. Is. Freezing."
"That's why I told you to bring a sweater."
"This isn't the time for a "I told you so!" Look--my teeth are chattering."
"You're exaggerating," Meghan fondly sighs while she digs in her bag. "Here," she holds a cardigan out to me, "I packed you one anyways. You seriously never listen."
"Thank you," I say as I quickly work my arms through the cardigan. "Um...What do you think it's going to be like?"
"The test?" Meghan shoots me a quizzical glance.
"Yeah, the test--what else?"
"Why would I know? I'm here with you because I haven't taken it yet either. Besides, everyone I've ever spoken to says the length of the test varies by each person. They're trying to be really thorough."
"Remind me why you decided to wait until my birthday to get tested again?"
"What--I can't get tested on the same day as my favorite younger sister?"
"I'm your only younger sister," I respond, deadpan. "And you turned 18 eleven months ago"
"What better time than the one month where we're the same age," Meghan grins.
Every citizen has a one year window from the time they turn 18 to get tested and classified. Meghan and I were born 11 months apart, so for one month out of the year, we're the same age. Most people opt to get it out of the way and get tested on their 18th birthday since you can be charged with contempt for failure to comply with the law. There are five classifications that one could get: Dominants, Submissives, Caregivers, Littles, and Neutrals. Neutrals are people who didn't sway heavily in one direction or the other.
Those who are classified as Dominants, Submissives, Caregivers, or Littles experience what are referred to as "headspaces." These headspaces allow people to freely give and receive the care that they need. For example, a Caregiver needs the opportunity to take care of someone as much as a Little needs a chance to allow someone to take care of them for some time. Similarly, a Submissive needs the chance to let go of the reins of control as much as a Dominant needs the opportunity to be the one in charge. Neutrals, on the other hand, don't typically have a headspace, as they sit in the middle of the classifications.
Each classification exists on a spectrum--some people have extremely strong instincts, while others may be duller. Additionally, the classifications ensure that everybody is satisfying their own body's biological needs. Sometimes the body will force a "drop" or a "slip" into headspace in order to ensure that the needs are being met. Ever since the introduction of classifications, mortality rates have dropped. Upon further research, it was determined that many of the seemingly inexplicable deaths before the introduction of classifications were caused by the deceased's inability to satiate their innate biological needs. If one doesn't satisfy their headspace's needs over a significant period of time (whether that be due to headspace suppressants or unwillingness to drop), it can lead to chronic stress and fatigue in the body alongside other health conditions. In extreme cases, it could even result in death.
"Plus," Meghan supplies, "I just wanted to have a day to ourselves after our testing is done. We can go hang out to take our mind off of it for a bit afterwards."
"What are you worried about? You and I both know that we're both going to be--"
"Amara Jones," a nurse calls my name from the doorframe.
I rise from my seat and signal to the nurse that I'm coming.
I look back at Meghan and offer her a smile, "Be right back."
As I follow the nurse throughout the facility, she begins explaining to me the process of the test.
"First, we'll just take your basic vitals to make sure that you're healthy and that we don't need to push this test back to another day. Then, we'll take a blood sample and a cheek swab and send it back to the lab. We do both to ensure that there are no inconsistencies with the results. If there's an issue we'll contact you."
Eventually, we arrive at a room. The nurse pushes the door open, directs me inside and gives instructions so she can begin to take my vitals. I look around the room and see that, save for the exam table, was white. I'm not quite sure if the exam table being gray is really a step up from everything else being white, but at least it's a start. You'd think that the facility would do it's best to relieve any form of tension or stress that a citizen may feel from coming to take their test. Sitting in a stark white room is not helping. Clearly, the government does not subscribe to color theory. If they truly wanted to give citizens a since of comfort, there should be some splashes of blue or green throughout the facility. I feel like I'm standing in the bottom of a styrofoam cup.
"You're awfully quiet. Are you nervous about the exam?" the nurse asks as gestures for me to sit on the exam table. She starts preparing some test tubes along with a swab and a needle. "Are you afraid of needles? Do you think you'll need to be sedated for the blood test?"
"No, I was just thinking about how drab the scenery is in this building. How could you not go insane staring at a white wall everyday?"
She chuckles as she makes her way back over to the exam table. Well, at least somebody doesn't think I'm exaggerating.
"Open up your mouth for me, sweetie," she swipes the inside of my cheek with the swab. After she places it inside of a test tube and makes sure that it's labeled properly, she moves on to taking my blood.
"I'll let you in on a little secret, hon," she whispers as she inserts the needle into my vein, "Everything is purposely white."
"What? Why?" I seriously cannot imagine why any interior designer would be willing agree to do this.
"Some classifications," she begins, "may respond to certain stimuli and environments in a particular way. It may cause your body to start producing certain hormones that will show up in the blood work or it may even affect particular vitals."
She sticks a bandaid on my arm and starts cleaning up.
"The test started from the moment you entered the building."
After the nurse finishes cleaning up, she leads me to separate waiting room to sit in while the bloodwork was being done. I spot Meghan sitting with her back towards the entrance. She rarely lets her guard down so this is the perfect opportunity to make her jump. I turn to the nurse with a mischievous grin and give her the shush signal. She grins back and sends a thumbs up my way. I slowly make my way over to my sister.
"Boo!"
"Hi, Amara."
I make my way around to sit next to Meghan with a small pout on my face. "You didn't even flinch."
To her credit, Meghan hasn't even looked my way yet. She's too focused on her cellphone.
"Did you honestly think you were going to be able to scare me?"
"How did you even know I was in the room?" I duck my face in front of her phone, forcing her to look at me. "OMG. Do you have a sixth sense that you've been hiding all this time?"
"No, but I do have ears. I could hear you giggling down the hallway with the nurse."
She attempts to push my face out of the way so she can go back to her phone but eventually gives up. I sit back in my seat as she spares me a glance.
"How long have you been sitting out here?" I ask her as I scan the room. There's a television in the corner, once again acting as white noise. The end tables have magazines, crosswords, and coloring books alongside some other things you might find in a doctors office or facility that caters to all ages and classifications. To the left of the room there are a few empty tables with chairs surrounding them. What really catches my eye, though, are some of the game options stacked up in a cubby in the corner: UNO, Connect Four, Guess Who, Jenga, and Candyland.
There's a drink and snack station on the right side of the room. I see some disposable cups sitting in between a few Keurig machines on the counter. There are baskets filled with various snacks, chips, and granola bars.
"Honestly? I'm not sure. I've been replying to some messages and notifications that came through while I was back in the room. You know how much I hate when my notifications pile up."
Ugh, do I. The amount of times Meghan has gone through my and every other family members' phones to clear notifications is innumerable. Thankfully, I'm not as horrible with notifications as my mother is.
"Any interesting news?" I ask her as I aimlessly swing my feet back and forth in the chair.
"Unless you consider Dad almost breaking the downstairs toilet for the tenth time this year to be interesting, then no, nothing interesting."
Taking that as my cue that nothing fun will happen in this waiting room unless I make it that way, I rise from my seat. I head over to the drink and snack station to see if anything is worth trying. After shuffling through some coffee K-cups, I finally find some K-cups that were labeled as hot cocoa. I'm not a fan of bitter flavors, so I only have coffee on rare occasions, like when I'm pulling an all-nighter for class. While the Keurig begins making my hot cocoa, I take a look at the snack options available. I grab a pack of fruit snacks and start tossing them in my mouth as I search for the perfect snack to accompany my hot cocoa. Just when the Keurig finishes making my hot cocoa, I find a pack of chocolate chip cookies at the bottom of the last basket. I make sure to stir in some cinnamon and add whipped cream to it before I take it and my cookies to one of the empty tables.
I attempt to take a sip of my hot cocoa, before the roof of my mouth reminds me that it's still too hot to drink. While I fan away the tears starting to form in the corner of my eyes, I make my way over to the game cubby and grab the Jenga set. I head back over to the table, Jenga set in tow, vowing to blow on my hot cocoa before I sip it again. It's less hot than before, but it's still burning the roof of my mouth. I peek over at my sister to see if she's noticed that I'm not near her anymore. I watch her for a few minutes before calling out to her.
"Meggie," I call out.
"Hmm," she looks over at me with a smile.
"You didn't even notice I was gone," I accuse her. "I could've gotten kidnapped!"
"Don't worry, I was keeping tabs on you," she laughs.
She digs in her bag before making her way over to me. "I even know that you burned the roof of your mouth on your hot cocoa." She reveals a packet of WetWipes in her hand before she pulls one out and begins to wipe my face with it. "You have whipped cream and fruit snack juices on your mouth. I doubt it'll feel nice once it dries."
"Thank you," I hum.
I grab my cup to attempt to take another sip, but she stops me.
"Wait. It's still too hot for you to drink." She takes my cup of hot cocoa with her to the other side of the table and sits down. "Even if we weren't in a government building where it is impossible for you to be kidnapped, do you honestly think I would let somebody kidnap you?"
I pointedly ignore her and try to take my cup of hot cocoa back. I would say that this started a slight tug of war, but there is definitely more tugging on my part than it is on Meggie's.
"Let's play Jenga," I give up on trying to get my cup back.
"Alright. You can go first."
I eye my sister. "You're just saying that so that you don't have to take your hands off of my hot cocoa."
"MarMar," she starts, "You know hot cocoa is too sweet for my tastes. I'm going to keep it over here until it's actually cool enough for you to drink. Why don't you start eating one of your cookies?"
"No, I want them both at the same time! The cookies won't taste as delicious without the hot cocoa."
"Then you'll have to wait a bit. Now, it's your turn."
Once the game starts, it doesn't even feel like it takes that long for Meggie to give me back my hot cocoa.
Eventually, another nurse shows up tells us that we're free to go.
"Just check out with the receptionist and they'll hand both of you your envelopes with the test results in it," she smiles.
"FREEDOM!" I exclaim and jump up from my seat. The remainder of the JENGA tower falls.
"JENGA!" I scream. The nurse chuckles as she turns to leave the room.
"Alright, MarMar, I'm going to throw away your hot cocoa cup and cookie wrapper. Meet me at the car after you check out with the receptionist," Meghan calls out as she starts to move away from the table.
"Yes, Mom," I roll my eyes as Meghan turns her back.
She flips me off without turning around.
By the time I make my way out to the receptionist, I catch a glance of Meghan leaving the building.
"Amara Jones?" the receptionist asks.
"Yes," I turn my attention to her, "How'd you know?"
"The nurses are quite the fan of you," she smiles. She starts to hand me my envelope and asks, "Do you want a sticker?"
"Absolutely!"
I proudly leave the testing facility, envelope in hand, sporting a sticker that says "I'm a little jazzed up" on my cardigan.
"Let's get this show on the road!" I tell Meghan as I open the door to my sister's Jeep.
"You didn't even open your envelope," she says incredulously.
"Why would I?" I buckle my seatbelt and throw my envelope onto the dash. "Our entire family are all Neutrals. Why would that suddenly change?"
"Well, you never know."
"Oh my God, Meghan--it is not that serious. Just hit the gas and let's go have some fun! I'm still the birthday girl!"
"Okay, okay. But don't say I didn't warn you," she mutters as she pulls out of the parking spot.