text: Beep-beep, beep-beep, beep-beep. My eyes pop open as I turn off the alarm on my phone. “Good morning Dahlia. It is August 30, 2086, 6:00AM. Events today include Reveal Day, and your 16th birthday. Top on the news this morning, a continuous increase in Dog burgl- “Janet, off,” I say as I roll out of bed. I quickly change and head to the restroom. As per the rules, I turn off all the lights before taking off my mask to brush my teeth. I wash my face but don’t do any makeup. I haven’t done makeup since my tenth birthday. Actually, I haven’t seen my face since I turned ten. On our tenth birthdays we get our marks. We cannot look at them until we are sixteen. Today. I get to see my face again today. Maybe do makeup again too? I gently touch my face, trying to feel what I look like. But I am given no clues. The marks are smooth, I have no way of knowing until the Reveal. I quickly pull my mask on and rush to the bus stop. I can’t be late today. “Oh my god did you run again?” Stacy asks when I get on. Stacy has been my best friend since we were eight. She has long blond hair and bangs she keeps in front of her mask. “Makes me look more human,” is her reason. She’s not wrong. The masks are dark and opaque from the outside, but on the inside it is surprisingly easy to see. They aren’t particularly comfortable, but we wear them so often we barely notice anymore. “Naturally,” I say sarcastically while I fake flip my hair. I would actually flip it, but I haven’t grown my hair longer than a few inches in years. I cut it off when I was eleven, after my hairbrush got caught on my mask and ripped it. Nobody saw anything, but I still got in trouble. “Whatever. In other news, happy birthday! What do you think you will have at the reveal?” Ah yes, the marks. When I am called to the Reveal room the Revelation Officer will pull off my mask and change the settings in my name. Free if I get straight lines, assigned a job if I get spots, and if I get swirls... “Spots I hope,” I say. A strong sense of curiosity suddenly overwhelms me. I want to know what I have before anyone else does. Most people have straight lines, but a few have spots. I’ve never actually seen someone with swirls. “Hey Stace, what happens if you have swirls?” She stops moving for a second and looks me dead in the face. Well, I think she looks me in the face. I can’t really tell. “Oh Dahlia you didn’t know? Swirls are just, well, bleh,” she says while swiping her hand under her neck to imitate being beheaded. She quickly changes the subject and starts talking about nail polish, but I don’t pay attention for the rest of the bus ride. Right when we arrive at the school I notice the compact mirror fall out of her bag. My first instinct is to give it to her, but something stops me. I could see ahead of time. I stick it in my pocket and the moment I enter the school I go to the restroom. I enter a stall and slowly slide my mask up while facing the wall. I hesitate, and nearly pull my mask back on without looking, but I look in the mirror anyway. They are so small I almost don’t notice, but I can see them. A tiny swirl coming from each corner of both eyes. I want to scream but I don’t. My whole body goes on autopilot and when I realize what's happening I hear sirens. I hide behind a trash can until they pass. That’s when I realize I’d been running. For miles. I am maybe two minutes away from my house now, but I still hear the sirens so I go the back way through the woods. I quickly arrive at my house and sneak in through the basement door. Seconds later I am in my bedroom. Before I can question it, my mom is in my bedroom forcing me into bed. “Fake being sick, I’ll deal with this,” she says before exiting my room. There is a loud knock at the front door before I hear my mother again. “Good morning officers, what can I help you with today.” “Step aside,” I hear a gruff voice say. Then there is a grunt from my mom that I can only assume is her being pushed and loud footsteps coming toward my room. “Dahlia Peterson,” a skinny man surrounded by guards reads off a paper. “You are hereby charged with the crimes as follows; felony mask revelation, truancy, avoidance of government workers, and attempted lying to a prosecutor.” By the time he is done saying that my mom has rushed into the room with a bat in hand. Before I know it she beats two guards to the floor and is about to hit a swing on the prosecutor when there is a gunshot. One of the guards has shot my mother in the back of the head. I scream and try to run over to her, but a guard catches me in his arms and I feel a cold sensation at the back of my head. “As I was saying before we were rudely interrupted,” the prosecutor says coldly, “the punishment for such crimes, in addition to the spiral marks, is death.” Another gunshot rings through the air, but this time far louder. In an instant the world turns red. Everything goes silent and dark. At first slowly, and then all at once, the world is calm.