“Mr. Hawthorne?”

The woman peered over her clipboard with a smile—the warm, contagious kind that seemed to wash over everyone within range. She wore a long, fitted white gown paired with red high heels-the signature Escort uniform. Her lips displayed the same bold scarlet color, and Nathaniel couldn’t help but notice how nicely it contrasted with her pearly white teeth. She must have spent a small fortune getting them fixed, he noted; no one but the A-List elites were born without imperfections, and cosmetic surgery was something most Escorts saved up years of hard work for. 

Nathaniel himself was a man right in that awkward stage—a B-List, consisting of businessmen, education, law enforcement, minor government and military officials. B-Listers were nicknamed the “Silvers”—always reaching for Gold but never quite reaching it. Of course, it was a respected standing amongst the C-Lists—middle-class citizens with nothing quite in particular to show for themselves. Much better than a D-List, heaven forbid he should ever stoop low enough to perform actual labor. And certainly preferred over the unspeakable…the dreaded E-Lists. But nothing, not even the A-Lists compared to the Erudite— the leaders who had saved their society from a world of war and pollution and had transformed it into a single organized, peaceful nation. The 1% who ruled them all with absolute power and humble sovereignty. An interesting description, Nathaniel thought, for a group of conceited men who exceedingly dismissed the values that had rescued their society in the first place.

What am I thinking, he quickly thought. I would not be here right now if not for the Erudite, waiting for an Interview. Nathaniel knew this could change everything. Perhaps he might finally be admitted. He would bring back the ideas that had united the universe: of order, justice, and equity, if only his shy demeanor and awkwardness didn’t get in the way. To be one of them, he had decided early on, was to finally gain knowledge. To be free to explore, to invent and discover like the Pre-Erudite teachers he had learned about back in grade school—Issac Newton and Nikola Tesla and Steve Jobs…

He heard the quiet tap tap of the Escort’s pointed heel and realized she was still standing there expectantly, waiting for his response. Nathaniel cleared his throat and attempted to collect himself, standing up from his chair. “Yes, h-hello,” he replied, trying to hide the slight hiccup in his voice quite unsuccessfully. 

“Good evening, Mr. Hawthorne. Your Interview is scheduled shortly. We hope we won’t take too much of your time, but the procedure should be quick as long as everything runs smoothly,” She recited in the same cheery tone. “If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please feel free to ask.” The Escort paused, then leaned in closer, as if sharing a secret. She whispered, “Oh, and it’s very normal to be nervous. We’ve all been there during our first Interview. But I suggest you just relax. The lie detectors will work faster that way.” She flashed him another one of her smiles. “Please follow me”.

Nathaniel managed a nod, signaling for her to carry on. He discreetly finished dusting off the sleeves of his shirt, adjusted his suit collar, and stepped in line behind her. The Escort led him towards the front of the room, where a large opaque door stood. She paused briefly to scan her hand against the fingerprint reader, which opened the invisible door with a soft swoosh. Leaving the reception area they stepped into a long, dimly lit corridor with countless rooms arranged on both sides. Nathaniel read the signs fixed next to each one as they walked by: Interview Room #1A, Interview Room #16D, #6C. He noticed that below the sign was a piece of paper, looking out of place amidst the harsh modern interior and savvy tech. He was observing the rows of checks and “X's next to what looked like a list of names when he heard the Escort clear her throat likely and hurried to keep up. 

“Here is where your interview will take place,” she informed as they stopped in front of a room labeled “Interview Room #1B”. “If you need me, I will be waiting right outside. Once you are done with your Interview, I will escort you back out. Any questions?”

“Oh, um, I had imagined you’d be attending the Interview with me…,” Nathaniel started. “How silly of me. Never mind.” He felt his face turning red with embarrassment and hoped she wouldn't take it the wrong way.

The Escort only chuckled lightly, reaching for the doorknob. Compared to the semi-transparent glass door they had entered earlier, this one was made entirely of metal and slid open with no sound at all. 

“After you, sir.” The escort gestured for him to step inside. She gave him one last smile, shutting the door abruptly behind her. 

Nathaniel was already missing her presence as he rapidly took in the bright artificial lighting and mirrored room—he could see his reflection from every possible angle, which made him a little jittery. The room was completely empty except for a small table fitted with three seats—two of which were taken by a man and woman who were currently staring at him very intensely. Nathaniel quickly sat down in the remaining chair. He figured he should introduce himself, so he stammered out,“H-hello, I’m Nathaniel. Nathaniel Hawthorne.” 

The women smiled. Somehow, it seemed quite different from the one he had received from the Escort not a minute ago. “Yes, we are aware. It’s a pleasure to have you here, Mr. Hawthorne. I am Official Kennedy, and this is Official Mark. We will be in charge of handling your first Interview.” She paused, reaching beneath the table to grab a queer contraption consisting of several wires connected to a rectangular black box. “As you may know, we have a very strict security policy. This is simply to ensure the authenticity of the Interview, of course, but we will now be fitting you with lie-detector equipment created by the Erudite Safety and Protocols team for the benefit of our Interviews. Please extend your right arm and lay your palm flat on the table.”

Not a single one of the articles he had read had mentioned a lie detector. Still, Nathaniel lay his arm on the table, assuming that it could do no harm. After all, what lies did he have to tell, and what could they possibly figure out from a bunch of wires wrapped around his fingertips? He felt himself beginning to relax a little as Officer Mark drew up a thick stack of papers and Officer Kennedy secured the contraption to his fingers. She connected the wires to a little computer next to her, which flashed to life displaying a graph with lines running across the screen.

“I will now be going through a set of questions to best determine the outcome of the interview. This is just protocol, so please try your best to answer as well as possible.” Officer Mark droned in a monotone voice. “First: what is your class grade, and what is your occupation?”

Nathaniel had to suppress a grin—this was too easy. “I am currently a B-List, and working as a professor at the Erudite University of History and Sciences.”

“Hmm-mm.” Officer Mark made a little scribble on the first page of paper. “All right. Can you tell us a little more about your job? Why did you choose it?”

“I didn’t; I was recommended by my grade school teacher to one of the previous professors at the University. I decided to accept their offer of a one year period and loved it so much that I asked for a ten-year extension.” Nathaniel loved talking about his occupation. It was one of the rare things he was passionate about, and especially proud of. 

“Interesting.” The officer replied, sounding anything but. Another little scribble. “The education field is known for its intense social responsibilities, as it is tasked with the role of educating the future generation. How do you handle situations when they go out of hand?”

“I, uh…,” Nathaniel didn’t quite comprehend what he was asking. “What do you mean by ‘out of hand?’”

“Things like unusual activity. When particular students express ideas…that don’t quite align with our Erudite values. Situations where proper discipline is required to guide them towards the right path. I’m sure you’ve encountered many before.”

“Oh! Well, I mean, there’s certainly been difficult students if that’s what you mean. Usually I just have a quick discussion with them privately. Wouldn’t want to embarrass them, but I also try to pay closer attention to them to  make sure it doesn’t become a trend, if you know what I mean?”

Officer Mark grunted what sounded like approval, glancing at Officer Kennedy monitoring the computer. She scanned the screen and gave him a little nod. “Very good. Now moving on.” He cleared his throat. “What, in your opinion, are the strengths and weaknesses of the Erudite?”

Nathaniel’s voice caught in his throat as well. “Excuse me?” The question seemed out of pocket, for a personal Interview. Weren’t they here to assess his personal experience?

“The Erudite. What do you think of our sovereign leaders?” The Officer repeated.

“Well...I would say I feel deep admiration for them, I suppose. Without them, we’d have never had a chance to rebuild our society, and advance in a way no one has ever attempted before.”

More scribbling. Then, another glance at the screen. 

“Tell us more. Do you think it is necessary to have these advancements, even if it means putting aside what seems like the needs of the people?”

“During the Pre-Erudite wars, people were sick and starving. They fought meaninglessly against each other and were corrupted by greed. Do you believe society was worth saving at the time?”
“What do you think about the Erudite’s decisions during the Reconstruction and Rehabilitation period? Would you have done the same, if you were in their position?”
The questions were fired one after another like gunfire, with Nathaniel scrambling to keep up. He felt his body tensing up again under the pressure, and a quick glance at the squiggly lines on the monitor confirmed his wildly escalating heartbeat. 

“What would you say is the most important role of a B-List? If you could choose, would you remain a B-List? Or would you want to advance to, let's say, an A-List?”

“Do you think the Erudite society is heading in the right direction?”

A pause.

“I-I…I, um, I…,”

A shared glance between the two Officers. All three of them turned towards the monitor. To his horrible suspicion, it displayed a crazy set of lines heading in all directions, rising and falling with the thump thump of his heartbeat.

 “...An error?” He caught Officer Mark’s whisper. Officer Karen pursed her lip. There was a long beat of silence, and Nathaniel was afraid that his heart would burst at any moment. Surely he couldn’t have failed already? They needed to give him a second chance. 

“...No. An error. Continue.”

More questions. This time, Nathaniel responded with care, noting the slight shift of the Officers’ eyebrows or the little nod of approval he got after an acceptable answer. Officer Kennedy even gave him a small smile, this time more similar to that of the Escort’s. 

“Good. We’re done here. Check off his name. He’s a pass.” 

Nathaniel beamed with pride.

He saw Officer Mark getting up from his seat, straining with the effort due to his rather large and round figure. He maneuvered around the table towards Nathaniel, resting his hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Thank you for completing your first Interview. We are glad to inform you that you have been cleared and will need no further examination.” He announced, giving his shoulder a small squeeze, as Nathaniel tried not to wince.

A snort. “Oh, cut the bullcrap, Mark, and get it over with. He won’t remember anything anyways. Erase his memories.”

"Erase...

...His...

Memories..."

Nathaniel Hawthorne’s ears processed the sounds, his brain converted them to words, yet his body was slow to react. He turned to look at Officer Kennedy, just as he felt a small prick on his right arm. “W-what…” Thump. Thump. Somewhere in the distance, he seemed to hear his heartbeat getting louder and louder. The lines of the monitor became frantic, sizzling and shifting around like a colony of ants.

He saw Officer Mark’s face peering over him, a large syringe in his hand. He looks almost sympathetic. “Thank you for completing your 33rd Interview. See you again next year,” he whispered.

Then, blackness.