I throw the coat to the Officer. He has to drop the boots to catch it. “You can let go,” I tell Vick. “He’s not heavy. I can take care of it.”

But Vick steps in, too. Now the dead boy’s legs are wet and his black plainclothes sodden. “It’s not much of a Final Banquet,” Vick calls out to the Officer. There’s anger in Vick’s voice. “Was that dinner last night something he chose? If it was, he deserves to be dead.”

It’s been so long since I’ve let myself feel anger that I don’t just feel it. It covers my mouth and I swallow it down, the taste sharp and metal as though I’m gnawing through foilware. This boy died because the Officers judged wrong. They didn’t give him enough water and now he’s dead too soon.

We have to hide the body because we’re not supposed to die in this holding camp. We’re supposed to wait until they send us out to the villages so the Enemy can take care of us there. It doesn’t always work that way.

The Society wants us to be afraid of dying. But I’m not. I’m only afraid of dying wrong.

“This is how Aberrations end,” the Officer tells us impatiently. He takes a step in our direction. “You know that. There’s no last meal. There’s no last words. Let go and get out.”

This is how Aberrations end. Looking down I see that the water has gone black with the sky. I don’t let go yet.

Citizens end with banquets. Last words. Stored tissue samples to give them a chance at immortality.

I can’t do anything about the food or the sample but I do have words. They’re always there rolling through my mind with the pictures and numbers.