"Are you awake?"

"Well, I am now," I reply sleepily.

"How can you sleep? I’m so nervous."

At my brother Mike’s words, it all comes back to me. He’s waking me up at this anti-socially early hour because today is graduation day.

"Why are you nervous? There’s nothing you can do about it now. It’s just ceremonial." I say this with conviction, even though I’m just as panicky as he is.

After tossing in bed, unsuccessfully trying to grab some more sleep, I get up and throw on my class uniform, a simple vest and pants in King’s Preparatory School’s colors – black and gray. Mike’s already dressed. He jumps down from his bunk, and we make our way down to the canteen.

Evidently, everyone else is having the same nervous issues, as the canteen is already packed, despite it being half an hour until breakfast. We take our usual seats near the end of the middle row, as is the place for our house and year. The hall fills to standing-room only, and the atmosphere is consumed by the deafening clatter of metal plates on metal tables and excited chatter.

"Holy recycled porridge oats! I am so frickin’ anxious! I’ve already peed six times this morning!" Cal says.

Callum is my and Mike’s best friend and has been since we had a fight in the first year, sixteen years ago. A fight he still claims he won. Upon reflection, he’s probably right, but he’ll never know that.

"Why is everyone so worried? Every Role is an important Role," I state in a mechanical way, repeating the words I’ve heard Mrs. McNulty say a thousand times.

"Oh shh, Johnny, you’re bricking it too. How you feeling, Mike?" Cal says.

Broken from a daydream, Mike replies, "I think I know where I’m going, so it should be OK. Should be." He says the last part like he’s trying to reassure himself.

Mike should know. He’s smart. Like, smart, like the smartest kid the school has ever seen. Historically, all the smart kids get the same Role with the other mega-brains in Efficiency Tech. So everyone knows where he’s going.

"Oh, look who’s just walked in, Johnny boy…" Cal says, nudging me.

I shift my gaze to Winter Decourt, who has just appeared in the doors. The classical cliché of the hottest girl in school; unfairly good at everything, friends with everyone, and… the sole owner of all my romantic attention. Thick brown hair that is forever in the right place, sapphire blue eyes, and a smile that makes everyone love her. We’ve been friends since she transferred from Rural five years ago, and since four years and 364 days ago, she has been the girlfriend and betrothed of my least favorite person on the planet, Marcus Cambridge. He graduated last year into Governance, and before that was the heartthrob of every girl in school, which is hardly surprising, as he’s the King’s grandson.

She walks over and sits next to the boys and me.

"Good morning, Miss Decourt, I see you are looking as ravishing as usual," Cal says with his naturally jovial confidence, winking at her.

"And good morning to you, Mr. Jones, I see you are being an idiot, as usual," Winter retorts with a half-smile.

We all laugh at the burn, Cal included.

"Knight boys," she says with a nod to my brother and me, but her eyes linger a second longer on me. I swear, I almost forget to feel nervous.

Winter doesn’t have to worry; she’s going to Legal, like her family. That’s a definite, so she looks perfectly relaxed. Not that I’ve ever seen her sweat. I don’t think she’s capable of that. She glistens.

We make small talk for the next half hour as we work our way through old-school morning rations of vita-porridge and tonics. Mike is unusually quiet although he’s always quiet when big things are about to happen. On match days, he is just unbearable.

Back upstairs, we finish packing up all our personal items into wooden crates with our names carved into the side. An Orderly comes around, nails them shut, and adds a code of some description. I always think it’s weird that all my things can fit into one box, when back before The War & Flood people used to have whole lorries taking their stuff around when they moved residence. What did they even have? I guess just more clothes and tech.

I’ll miss this place. We’ve been here for sixteen years. Sixteen years, that’s almost my whole life. I can remember coming here when I was four, and my mum and dad waving at Mike and me as we started our training. Mike might be the older of us, but he was sobbing, and I was pretending not to be scared. Guess not much has changed there.

Because Mum and Dad died that year, we never got to go home in summer like the other kids. I guess that’s why this place has always felt like home.

Come on Johnny, pull yourself together! It’s just a sleep-pod. Remember what Mrs. McNulty says. "The only things worth keeping are your memories," I tell myself. I take a deep breath through my nose, pick up my box, and make my way down the stairs with Mike behind the queue of other graduates. Some haven’t held it together quite so well. Lots of girls are wailing, along with some not-so-good-at-hiding-it boys.

We pack our boxes onto a trailer, and a Transporter punches the code into an infopad and sets off with the trailer down the road. It’s a little annoying that he already knows where we’re going before we do.

We get lined up outside the Grand Hall in order of name. I look up the line and catch Winter’s eye. She mouths, "You OK?" to me. I smile and nod back. Cal is busily asking Kayleigh Williams in the row next to him if she’ll marry him if they get the same Role. I can’t hear her reply, but I’m guessing from the look on her face Cal will not be getting married this summer.

As we enter the hall, three Orderlies are sitting at an ornate wooden table that must be hundreds of years old and worth more than a year’s leisure funds.

"Name?" one says, with about as much emotion as a brick.

"Johnathan Knight," I reply.

He hands me a rice paper envelope.

"Do not open until instructed. Chip," the Orderly states robotically.

I turn around, and he places the wand over my shoulder blades. The wand beeps once it’s registered.

"Next," the Orderly barks.

I scurry along through two grand double doors into a vast open room like the main hall at St Paul’s Cathedral. We went there once on a history trip. There are about forty teachers all up on a stage, the older ones dressed in some ridiculous cloak and hat combo that I know from history is what people used to wear when they finished at universities, when they were still around. Mrs. McNulty looks over at Mike and me and gives us that wink, her way of saying ‘don’t worry boys, I’m here for you.’

We’ve rehearsed the next part of the process a few times; we all line up in a circle and open the envelopes at the same time. This way, there is no opportunity for avoidance or being exposed to too much attention. What’s about to happen is the most important moment of our lives so far.

Since The War & Flood, school has changed a lot. Mrs. McNulty says that the main difference is that instead of teaching to enhance your thinking, you’re taught to improve your usefulness. So the Council dropped all the subjects they didn’t feel had a practical application, and now everything we learn has a functional use. We stay in school until we’re twenty and at that point, the school looks at all our grades over the past sixteen years and all our transcripts from interviews. From these, they assess our weaknesses and strengths to decide what Role we’ll have for the rest of our lives.

The good news is that all Roles are equally important, pay the same, and have the same progression. They just do different things. Apparently, before The War & Flood, some people didn’t have Roles, or ‘jobs’ as they were called then, but I find that hard to believe. I think The Council made it up so we understand how important it is that everyone plays their part.

Although all Roles are equal, and we don’t get wages like back in the first half of the century, as we are all given the same rations, housing space, and leisure funds, some Roles are in better places. Like Mike, for example, is going to get Efficiency Tech, which is for the mega-geeks and all those guys get residence in the City, which is prestigious, all things being equal. Farm gets to go to Rural, which is also cool, I suppose. I really hope I get a decent location.

People start to shuffle; something must be about to happen. Mike and I find our way to the front with Cal and Winter. Mr. Harwood, the headmaster, stands up with a worrying amount of effort. He’s tall and bald with a long white beard and seemingly 700 years old. Apparently, his heart, lungs, and kidneys are all synths, which means that those organs shut down, and Med made him some new ones.

"Cla-a-a-ss of 2100. It is my gre-a-a-a-test pleasure to see you a-a-all here on this most specia-a-al of occa-a-assions. I wish you a-a-all every ha-a- appiness and prosperity," Mr. Harwood announces.

"I swear he fakes it. Nobody has that weird a stutter. That, or one of his synths came from a sheep," Cal whispers. We all snigger and Winter elbows him duly in the ribs.

Mr. Johnson, the most high-ranking member of The Council besides Harwood, takes over. He’s a Level Eight and responsible for all minors and education in the City, so a big deal. He only turns up one day a year.

"As you all know, since The War & Flood, we have worked tirelessly to recreate the world we lost. But not just to recreate, but to improve. All of us, and all of you, have a part to play in making this happen.

With the skills you have learnt here at King’s, and the talents you all have, I know you will make a significant difference in making all our dreams a reality. Without further ado, please all make the circle."

We all shuffle into position and make a giant circle facing inwards, as rehearsed.

"Hold the letter in both hands in front of you."

We do as we’re told.

I can feel the tension and anxiety around me. It’s stupid really, because we’re all sure what we’re going to get anyway. We know what subjects we’re best at, and what we requested, and those are the two factors that most influence the decision. Mike will get Efficiency Tech, Winter will get Legal, Cal will get… actually, I have no idea what Cal will get. As for me, I want Construction Tech. It’s my first choice; I get to spend time outside, travel around and get involved in all the coolest building projects and technology. All Roles might be equal, but to me, it’s the best one.

"On my count, open the letter.

One…

Two…

Three…"

We open our letters simultaneously. I should be looking at mine, but I’m too busy looking at Mike’s and Winter’s reactions. By the smile on Winter’s face and the relief on Mike’s, I can tell they’ve got what they wanted.

I open mine and look down at the rice paper. There’s only one word written there, and it’s the last one I ever expected.

GUARD