they lived in, a society that was filled with corruption, heightened sexuality, and acts of violence seemingly around every corner. Bullying in schools had become epidemic, despite the policies set in place by politicians. It is little surprise that your grandparents as children sought solace in the so-called dystopian novel genre. These novels tended to focus on bleak, post-apocalyptic futures, yet offered children a simpler alternative to what must have seemed like a topsy-turvy, overwhelming world ruled by technological advances but few morals. Have any of you heard about these books?”
For a moment, the classroom is filled with the sound of textbook pages being turned.
“The answer you are seeking is not there, First Years,” Dr. Witmer says. “Anyone? Anyone at all?” He surveys the room, a satisfied look on his face. “As I was saying…”
“ The Hunger Games, The Uglies, and Maze Runner, ” Noah calls out. “And before that, for my great-grandparents, I guess, books like The Long Walk, 1984, and Neuromancer .”
Dr. Witmer turns his attention to the back of the room, to where the curly-haired boy is sitting, then begins walking towards him. A shiver runs up and down my back. “And how, pray tell, did you create this little list, Mr. Philips?”
I turn to look at the boy, too. He’s slouching in his chair, his curly hair falling into his face. He shrugs. “My dad.”
“Your dad? Care to explain, further?”
“My dad let me read them when I was younger. Some of them were his father’s from before, some belonged to his grandfather, I think. Not sure exactly.” Another shrug.
“Are you telling me that you read these books, these novels that have all been banned for children by The Association?” Dr. Witmer stops in front of Noah’s desk and raps at the wood with his knuckles.
“Yep,” Noah says.
“You mean, Yes, sir.”
“Sorry. Yes, sir, I read the books.”
“And your father gave them to you to read?”
“Yep. I mean, yes, sir.”
“And why would he have done this, exactly, given that I am sure the good man knew the law as well as anyone else?”
Noah shrugs again. “I dunno. You could ask him.”
Another rap on the desk. “That will be enough insolence for today, Mr. Philips. I’m well aware of your father’s…untimely death. A brain tumour, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Noah says softly.
Dr. Witmer leans his face closer to Noah, so close that their noses almost touch. “And how are those headaches of yours doing?”
“Much better. The protocol at Temporary made all the difference. Thank you for asking, sir.”
“Good, good.” Dr. Witmer draws back and straightens himself. “Well, class, Mr. Philips here was correct with his little list. The books he mentioned were some of the dystopian tales that proliferated in the pre-Type era. While these books described societies that were…primitive at best, they did serve a purpose of feeding the hunger of the youth for better order and structure in society.”
I raised my hand. “Dr. Witmer?”
“Yes, Ms. Jenkins?”
“If these books were so good, why can’t we read them now?”
“Before I answer your question, Ms. Jenkins, I would like you to answer one for me. How does that sound?’
“Okay,” I say.
“Excellent,” Dr. Witmer says. “What I would like to ask is the following—as far as you know, does your family own any of the novels listed by Mr. Philips? Before you answer, I would like to remind the class that Ms. Jenkins’s family is headed by one of the upstanding Psychologists of The Association.” He smiles at me and another shiver goes up and down my back.
I look at Noah, who seems to be trying to tell me something with his eyes. If only he was Aaron, I’d know what he was saying . “I’ve never heard of them before,” I say honestly.
“Thank you, Ms. Jenkins, for your illuminating answer.” He nods at me and I look at my desk. “First Years, if you get nothing else from today’s
For a moment, the classroom is filled with the sound of textbook pages being turned.
“The answer you are seeking is not there, First Years,” Dr. Witmer says. “Anyone? Anyone at all?” He surveys the room, a satisfied look on his face. “As I was saying…”
“ The Hunger Games, The Uglies, and Maze Runner, ” Noah calls out. “And before that, for my great-grandparents, I guess, books like The Long Walk, 1984, and Neuromancer .”
Dr. Witmer turns his attention to the back of the room, to where the curly-haired boy is sitting, then begins walking towards him. A shiver runs up and down my back. “And how, pray tell, did you create this little list, Mr. Philips?”
I turn to look at the boy, too. He’s slouching in his chair, his curly hair falling into his face. He shrugs. “My dad.”
“Your dad? Care to explain, further?”
“My dad let me read them when I was younger. Some of them were his father’s from before, some belonged to his grandfather, I think. Not sure exactly.” Another shrug.
“Are you telling me that you read these books, these novels that have all been banned for children by The Association?” Dr. Witmer stops in front of Noah’s desk and raps at the wood with his knuckles.
“Yep,” Noah says.
“You mean, Yes, sir.”
“Sorry. Yes, sir, I read the books.”
“And your father gave them to you to read?”
“Yep. I mean, yes, sir.”
“And why would he have done this, exactly, given that I am sure the good man knew the law as well as anyone else?”
Noah shrugs again. “I dunno. You could ask him.”
Another rap on the desk. “That will be enough insolence for today, Mr. Philips. I’m well aware of your father’s…untimely death. A brain tumour, wasn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Noah says softly.
Dr. Witmer leans his face closer to Noah, so close that their noses almost touch. “And how are those headaches of yours doing?”
“Much better. The protocol at Temporary made all the difference. Thank you for asking, sir.”
“Good, good.” Dr. Witmer draws back and straightens himself. “Well, class, Mr. Philips here was correct with his little list. The books he mentioned were some of the dystopian tales that proliferated in the pre-Type era. While these books described societies that were…primitive at best, they did serve a purpose of feeding the hunger of the youth for better order and structure in society.”
I raised my hand. “Dr. Witmer?”
“Yes, Ms. Jenkins?”
“If these books were so good, why can’t we read them now?”
“Before I answer your question, Ms. Jenkins, I would like you to answer one for me. How does that sound?’
“Okay,” I say.
“Excellent,” Dr. Witmer says. “What I would like to ask is the following—as far as you know, does your family own any of the novels listed by Mr. Philips? Before you answer, I would like to remind the class that Ms. Jenkins’s family is headed by one of the upstanding Psychologists of The Association.” He smiles at me and another shiver goes up and down my back.
I look at Noah, who seems to be trying to tell me something with his eyes. If only he was Aaron, I’d know what he was saying . “I’ve never heard of them before,” I say honestly.
“Thank you, Ms. Jenkins, for your illuminating answer.” He nods at me and I look at my desk. “First Years, if you get nothing else from today’s
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