Contingency

It was a bright and sunny day, and Everclear Terrace was abuzz with excitement and activity. Brightly colored streamers flew from every flagpole, and 'Welcome Home!' signs hung on every front porch in uniform perfection.

"The government never fails to be good to us, does it honey?" The young man smiled as he hugged his wife. "Just look at our terrace! The kids are sure to love it!"

"I'm so excited dear!" She exclaimed. "Our little boy's finally coming home!"

The couple stood on their driveway as final decorations were immaculately placed by the government officials, their black full-body uniforms clashing against the brightly colored neighborhood like ants at a picnic. Mr. and Mrs. Cedar waved to the black figures and watched as their neighbors, much like themselves, gathered in anticipation for the famed white bus to pull onto the street. As quickly as the uniformed men arrived, they disappeared, to no surprise. It was as normal an occurrence as the mandatory removal of children at birth.

"Nothing unusual at all." Mr. Cedar chuckled. "Perfectly perfect."

"Did you say something dear?" Mrs. Cedar asked.

"Just thinking how perfect my life is honey." He chuckled.

"So true dear!" She agreed, noticing the neighbors looking at them with speculation. "Although... I have to wonder..." She began.

"The amount of money, right?" He cut her off. "Pay no mind to the nosy neighbors!" He said with emphasis as the neighbors turned away in embarrassment. "I'm sure it's just higher than normal because our boy is brighter than average!"

"But what if something was wrong dear?" She frowned. "It was nearly triple the average amount..."

"Oh come now honey!" Mr. Cedar chided. "You know they'd never lie to us if something went wrong."

"I know dear, but I still worry about our boy. He was only just born... he was so tiny in my hands when they..." She trailed off, remembering her little baby's birth. Her husband rest a hand on her shoulder as she wiped away a tear.

"That was..." He checked his watch, "nine years, three hundred and sixty-four days and fifty... seven minutes ago, honey! Have faith!"

She sighed. "Of course. Our government knows what it's doing! Right, dear?"

He nodded. "Absolutely honey. All babies must be removed at birth you know, for..." he looked left and right before whispering, "conditioning."

"I know dear, I know. I just feel... I don't know, like something's... wrong?"

"It's just 'Child Day' jitters honey!" He laughed. "Why, all new parents get it when-"

His last words were drowned out by the sudden cheering of the neighbors. Mr. and Mrs. Cedar looked up with excitement as the bus pulled onto their street. Down the block it came, stopping in the middle of the terrace. The parents gathered around in joy and anticipation as the bus squeaked to a halt. The Cedars, along with the rest of the parents, felt themselves about to explode from joy.

The bus windows, tinted white and opaque, were equally abuzz with children singing, screaming, and jumping about. The doors swung open and a hush came over the crowd. The driver, obscured by black clothing, pressed a button, and the excitement on the bus came to a sudden stop. In single file order the children, each precisely ten years old this hour, paraded off the bus and into a straight line in front of the parents. The bus driver turned around in their seat, pressing the button forcefully before walking into the back of the bus. With a slight commotion, the last child was forced off the bus and into line with the rest. Without a word, the bus driver returned to their seat, closed the doors, and pulled away, down the street and back to the station to pick up the next batch of children.

Once the bus was out of sight, the terrace exploded in noise. Children, despite never having actually met their parents, ran to the happy couples' open arms, recognizing them immediately. Shouts of joy and tears of love were shed by all! Everyone, that was, except the Cedars. The last child off the bus was noticeably smaller than the rest of the children. He had a limp in his right leg and a large metal brace supporting him. The Cedars beamed brightly at their son, though the feeling was not entirely mutual. Hesitantly, the boy walked over to the couple, his metal leg brace creaking, coming just within their embrace. Mrs. Cedar hugged her boy tightly, never wanting to let him go again. Mr. Cedar ruffled the boy's bright blonde hair.

"Welcome home sweetie!" Mrs. Cedar cried through tears. "I'm so happy to see you again! You look exactly how I expected!"

Mr. Cedar laughed "A chip off the old block! Welcome home son!"

"Our perfect little boy!" They agreed.

The boy, rigid and cold, simply nodded, fidgeting with his jacket. Mrs. Cedar stood and motioned towards their house. "Well let's not stand around! Inside for cake everyone!"

With that the family, much like their neighbors, went home, leaving the terrace empty. Mrs. Cedar went to the kitchen and brought out an immaculately decorated cake, with the name Nicholas written across the top in cursive. Mr. Cedar cut a slice for himself, then his wife, and finally the birthday boy. Nicholas stared at it with apprehension, fidgeting in his seat.

"May I please be excused?" He asked solemnly, "I'm just... tired from today's excitement."

The Cedars snuck glances at each other before Mr. Cedar spoke. "You feeling alright, champ? No one has ever refused your mother's cake." He picked up a fork-full for emphasis. "Just try it! I promise you'll love it!" He took a bite, smiling. Nicholas grimaced slightly, hiding it behind a forced smile.

"Really sir, I just need to sleep. I'm sure tomorrow I'll feel better."

"Of course champ!" Mr. Cedar chuckled. "And no need to call me 'sir!' You can call me dad!"

The boy smiled halfheartedly. "Of course... dad."

Mr. and Mrs. Cedar thought little of the strange behavior, cleaning dishes and going to bed. In unison the lights along the Terrace went out, leaving the small boy to work in the dark. It was only when the sun rose that the noises ceased, just in time for the Cedars to awake. In his bleary-eyed state, Mr. Cedar almost mistook the small figure at the end of his bed for an intruder.

"Whoa, son! Don't sneak up on your folks like that, champ!"

The small boy nodded curtly. "I've only a small amount of time to relay this information to you, and my room is the only secure location in the house. Please join me shortly."

With that, the boy exited swiftly, leaving Mr. Cedar to wake his wife and get dressed. As the pair walked down the hall, it was unusually quiet. It was as if the white noise in the house had ceased, even the birds couldn't be heard outside. An ominous feeling crept up the couple's spines as they reached their son's room. As they entered, the boy was standing at his desk, a row of small machines lining the side of his bed. He motioned for them both to keep quiet.

"Wha... What's going on here champ?" Mr. Cedar asked cautiously, "What are all those little gadgets?"

"Surveillance cameras, and do please keep your voice down." the boy said firmly. "I've only a small amount of time before they notice these cameras offline." He closed the door and beckoned both adults to sit down.

"They-who?" Mrs. Cedar asked in alarm, "Who'd spy on us?"

"The government, ma'am." the boy responded curtly. "They have been watching the people of the world since who knows when. Now then." He walked over to his metal brace, which Mr. Cedar noted he didn't seem to need, and pulled out a small black book.

"I am not Nicholas." The boy said wearily. "This-" he held out the book, "is your son. Everything he was, everything he felt and saw and believed, he wrote here."

He held the book out to the couple, but neither could take it, both were in shock. He sighed, placing the book in the woman's hand.

"But... you have to be my son." Mrs. Cedar said slowly. "You have blue eyes... your blond hair, I remember, and you came from conditioning and- and-"

"They never make mistakes!" Mr. Cedar proclaimed. "There's never been a mistake since my great-great-great grandfather's times!"

"Please lower your voice sir." The boy said calmly, "There have been many mistakes. But they make sure no one knows."

"I refuse to believe it!" Mr. Cedar shouted. "The system is perfect!"

"Too perfect sir. Have you truly never questioned the removal of children at birth? Ten years we're 'conditioned,' and no one remembers it. Do you remember what conditioning is sir?" The boy asked calmly. The man opened his mouth before closing it in hesitation. "As expected. No one remembers conditioning because they don't want you to. They control everything, your food, your media, your brain even...everything. I've seen it all happen." Both adults realized in growing horror that neither of them could remember the first ten years of their lives. "It's honestly better that you don't remember," he shivered, looking away, "it's not pleasant at all..."

"Then how do you-" Mr. Cedar wondered.

"An anomaly in the system, sir, a contingency if you will. I'm a spare, one of many, kept for the purpose of replacing rogues. I trust you received the $20,000 douceur, yes?" Mr. and Mrs. Cedar nodded. "Yes. An incentive to keep me quiet about your son. 'Keep your mouth shut, live in luxury,' as they'd say."

"If- if you're not my son," Mrs. Cedar began, "then where is he?"

"Escaped, ma'am." He declared. "He got out of this prison and escaped to where the government has no hold. He left me this book knowing I would be sent as his replacement. The book holds the key to escape."

"If they control everything, how'd you get this book out?" Mr. Cedar scrutinized.

"Simple, the brace." the boy responded. "Before it was time to leave I faked an injury. A brace was provided per policy, and I hid the book seamlessly in it. A snug fit, but worth it. The book will tell us exactly what to do." He smiled at last, eagerly awaiting a response.

Mrs. Cedar flipped through the book, it's little pages stained and yellowing from ten years of use. Writing lined each page, from scribbles and words spelled incorrectly, leading to pages full of notes in immaculate tiny writing. Some pages were nothing but pictures of a man and woman with a little boy, hugging, a heart around the perfect family. She felt tears welling up in her eyes. She sighed and looked to the boy, fidgeting with anticipation, to her husband for what to do next.

"I can't believe... all these years..." Mrs. Cedar began. "All these years of 'perfection'... Where did it all go wrong?"

"I can't believe this happened... How dare they do this to us!" Mr. Cedar sighed in disappointment. "I suppose the next step is obvious." He stood up with a frown. "Alright young man. I'll fix this mess... I'll make this perfect."

"Dear!" Mrs. Cedar called after him, "What about...?" She held out the book with emphasis.

"Don't worry, we'll correct this problem honey..." He walked towards the kitchen. "But first I'll have to make a call..."

It was another bright and sunny day when the small white car pulled onto the Terrace, stopping in front of a festively decorated home. The car door swung open and a young black haired boy, turning ten in minutes, ran over to his parents, recognizing them immediately. The mother handed a little black book to the driver before heading inside for some cake. Written on the cake in cursive was the name Nicholas.

"Happy birthday son!" Mr. and Mrs. Cedar sang together. "Our *perfect* little boy!"