Extraction by Stephanie Diaz Page A

burn through the screen, and a stone settles in my stomach.
    This must be Commander Charlie, the superior of the five Developers. The leader of the planet. He’s the man who decided my fate, who picked death for Logan.
    “Some of you,” he says, “we picked for your intelligence—for your capacity to understand things the average person cannot, for your potential to become the scientists and physicians we need so desperately. Others we picked for your physical strength—for your stature and your build, for your potential to become the patrolmen we need to keep order and keep everyone safe. We’ve observed you your whole life, both in the classroom and in the work camps.”
    I bite my lip, thinking of the cam-bots that monitored us all the time back on the Surface. I wonder how much Commander Charlie has seen of all that footage.
    He continues: “Your reactions to the situation you experienced during your Extraction test, as well as the brain scans we collected, were a final checkpoint, an assurance of the qualities we already knew you possessed. We have high hopes that you will offer much to our society.”
    His words draw applause from the people in the viewing pods, and mutters of relief and excitement from the people around me. But Commander Charlie’s lips stretch into a smile that sends an icy shiver down my spine.
    When the clapping dies down, he continues, “Of course, you’ve all come from societies very different from this one. You have much to learn, and many skills that need to be strengthened. Over the next week, you will participate in training sessions that will help with this. They will elevate each area of your Promise—intelligence, strength, and obedience—and raise you to a level of worth that will stay with you for the rest of your lives. We will mold you into perfect citizens. And you will reap the rewards: safety, nourishment, and the freedom to help us decide what your place will be in this society, based on your particular skills.
    “Traditionally, Extraction training begins in this room.” He gestures below him. “Notice the glass box in front of you.”
    I glance at the box against the wall. The glass lights up, a soft blue color, that helps me see inside better. It has a metal door at its back wall and a small square of red glass on its front.
    “In a moment,” Commander Charlie says, “the box won’t be empty. Through its back door, two officials will lead in an Unstable, fresh from the Karum treatment facility on the Surface. This is your chance to help us cleanse our society of their dangerous presence. There will be one Unstable for each of you to shoot.”
    I’m a statue made of steel. He doesn’t mean … he can’t mean …
    “We strive to cure all Unstables,” he says. “We strive to make them better. We do everything within our power, but some people who were once useful to our society endanger us. Some we cannot cure. Hopeless cases … must be exterminated. I ask you, my dear Extractions, to assist me in sending them on their departure. It is for the safety of all, and it is an honor.”
    The Core crowd hoots and hollers.
    I don’t want to believe him.
    “Each of you will receive a gun,” he says. “A small part of the box will open, allowing you to aim your gun inside. All you must do is pull the trigger. This will be your first contribution to Core society.”
    The other Extractions mutter in worry, their faces pale again in the dark. Across the floor, more instructors and officials are descending from a pod stairwell, carrying crates with the guns they’ll pass out to us.
    “If you refuse to do this,” Commander Charlie says, “then it is possible we were mistaken about your Promise. Maybe you are intelligent or physically strong, but if you cannot understand that this is the safe and right thing to do, it’s possible you are one of them. It’s possible you are Unstable, and therefore a threat to our society.” He sighs and rubs his temple.