*True Blue

Intro: I always joke that my children are fated to have blue eyes. When both Moose and I have blue eyes there isn’t really any other option. But I keep reminding myself that brown is dominant and blue is recessive. There is always a chance that blue eyes may become non-existent, even if the gene is still around.

Every morning I put drops in my eyes and every evening when my eyes started to bleed I knew it was time to go to bed. Everyone used eye drops. The kids, myself included, used them as a way to get essential vitamins and nutrients we didn’t get in the processed food. The old people used it as a way to receive their medicine. I hate them, but they are like the ventilators, a necessary evil of life.

“Liam, are you paying attention?” This comes from Mr. Jarvis, my chemistry teacher.

I stop rubbing my eyes and focus on the man in front of me. “Yes.”

“Then can you tell me the proper chemicals needed to purify the water in order to make it safe to drink?”

“Arsenic, hemlock, and belladonna.”

Several of my class stifle chuckles.

“Not funny, Liam.” Mr. Jarvis shakes his head and the lesson continues. Chemistry is required by law every year. This is my last year of secondary school. When I graduate I have to choose a profession. Most people choose earlier so their last year of secondary school gives them more training. When I told people I wanted to be an artist they didn’t take me seriously. I wasn’t expecting them to. Artists don’t contribute. There hasn’t been an artist in a hundred years. Those who could be artists normally become chemists because of their attention to the details and the ability to detect even the smallest change in color. Some people hypothesized that the blue ones in the conclave were artists and musicians. I tell people I want to be an artist because it causes a fuss, but because I have no idea what I want to do. I can’t actually draw a straight line. I refuse to do what they forced me to do. To me, the blue ones are the worst group of us all.

The bell tolls and class lets out. I hurry out before Jarvis can corner me for an extra assignment. It is to help me get a job when I graduate.

“Liam, wait up.”

Jeane touches my shoulder. “You should pay attention to Jarvis. I mean you are going to be a chemist someday.”

“No, I’m not. I’m going to be an artist.”

“Are you still spewing that?”

“Forever and always.” I rub my eyes again.

“O my gosh, Liam. You’re bleeding.”

I look at my hands. Streaks of blood cover my skin. The same dark muddy color that seeps from my eyes every night.

“Come on, we need to get you to the nurse.”

I wipe my eyes. “It’s nothing. Just like what happens every night. Just let me wash up.”

“Every night? Liam. This happens every night? Why?”

I shrug and head off to the restroom, where she can’t follow me. She hangs onto my arm. “Liam. Every night?”

“It’s nothing. I’m just tired.”

“Have you been taking your drops? I’ve heard that those who don’t take them can sometimes have repercussions. Have you been drinking unfiltered water?”

My escape. “I could have sworn they said it was filtered. I won’t be making that mistake again.”

I ran into the bathroom. My eyes were rimmed in blood. The brown irises swimming in it. They were the same color as everyone elses. Blue eyes, and blond hair had become things of the past. The recessive genes having disappeared over five thousand years. The population of the world now one culture, one race.

I wash my face and look in the mirror, to make sure I got all the blood. Blue eyes stared back at me. A muddy blue, but no doubt blue surrounded by red. I wash my face again. Less red, more blue.

I run from the bathroom my hands in front of my face.

“Liam, stop! What’s wrong?”

I push past Jeane. “I don’t feel very well. I’ll see you later.”

“Liam? Your eyes—”

My house is five miles away through crowded streets. I keep my gaze focused on the ground as much as I can. My mother is still at work, but Father is home, fixing the processor so we can actually get good food. He looks up as I burst into his workshop.

“What are you doing home?”

I look at him and he frowns.

“Did you take your eyedrops?”

“What does that have to do with it? What is up with this? Why are my eyes blue?”

Dad hushes me. “We’ve been planning for this. We have to act now.”

“What do you mean, planning?” I back away from him. “My eyes are blue. If anyone finds out. I’ll be taken. I will have to go to the conclave. I’m a blue one.”

The door burst open.

“Liam, run!”

Hands grab me. Pull me. I am shoved into a car. I can see my dad through the window. One of the guards beat him. I scream, but they shove something in my mouth. It’s cold. I cough and swallow.

I can hear someone in the background.

“Get another lab ready. We have another mutant ready for testing. Trust me, this one has the lightest blue eyes we’ve seen. We’ll crack the genetic code this time for certain.”