Unus sine culpa perfectio est.
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That's Latin for one is perfect without fault, and it's one of the singular most important statutes here within the gates of Sine Vitio. Perfection is considered to be the highest objective; display no emotion, do as you're told, be completely and utterly compliant, never challenge the instructions of those in power, for they know what's best for you.
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I was seven years old when I discovered I'm not perfect.
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I was trying to fill a glass with water but couldn't quite reach the tap yet, seeing as I was a rather petite child, smaller than almost everyone else. So I tipped up on my toes and stretched out my arm as far as I could, but I never was very coordinated, so the glass tumbled to the floor, shattering into perfectly split fragments. My mother made me clean it up, after all, it was my mess, and she couldn't be troubled assisting a child who, to her, was a walking talking catastrophe. Honestly, I was embarrassed, though I tried not to show it, because here, when you make even one mistake, it's deemed a defect, a flaw, and those things are very much frowned upon in our immaculate civilization.
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As I got older, however, it became much harder to conceal the defects, suppress all the things that made me imperfect; that made me human. But acting human was never an alternative, so I was coerced into going day to day faking the flawless life that I didn't really have; keep up suitable grades, maintain a passive expression, be pristine and uncluttered and never exhibit any indication of weakness.
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Now, being a teenager is challenging already, so visualize dealing with that and, on top of things, not being able to voice any of the emotions you feel. Rather, you have to tuck them away inside and allow them to build up in your chest even when you feel like you're about to burst.
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That's pretty much my life.
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Sometimes I sit and wonder; really wonder, whose brilliant idea it was to construct a metropolis based completely on the principles of being absolutely perfect. I mean, I know the history of the constricting place I call home. Of course, I do; everyone is required to memorize it at a young age.
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It started a hundred years ago when the entirety of what was once The United States of America was demolished. There had been a third world war, one way more destructive than the two before, because of the amelioration of technology. The planet turned into a cataclysm. There was no governance over the people; there were riots in the streets, burglaries everywhere you turned, murders, gangs, insurgents. The government was no longer in authority. So after five years of this frenzy, the administrations reconvened and after one massive UN forum, resolved that the earth would be a more profitable place if the population was harshly trimmed down. So they selected the people at random, people who were most likely entirely blameless, and annihilated them, effectively terminating half of the population from the globe.
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They then designated three hundred eighty-six cities, two for each country. Each was devised for a different intention, such as knowledge or arrogance, or beauty; they believed that if everybody was told what to be. If they were stripped entirely of their individuality, there could never again be an uprising like the one before.
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Here, we are all perfect because if everyone is immaculate, there will never be any sort of crisis within our borders.
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And no one can ever escape it. We are retained within our cities by a towering barrier that wraps around it; it's constructed out of titanium and rigged with electrical wire, an intricate security system, and surveillance stationed at every inch. There is no way out.
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So, sure, I know the record that they've told us. But who actually knows if that history is true? They can manipulate anything they want, construct the wildest story to feed to us, and we'd have to accept it, even if we didn't believe it.
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Do I believe it? I don't know yet. It's difficult looking at the world from the standpoint of one girl because it's all so immense, and I'm such an insignificant part of it that it's tough to look at the various possibilities because my mind just doesn't know where to begin.
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If I were to change anything, I think it would be the expectation that everybody must be the same. Because when you look at humanity, no one is just arrogant, smart, beautiful, or empathetic; no one is ever perfect. We all exhibit multiple of these qualities. We are all human.
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But I can't change anything because I'm only one person in a sea of people who carry way more power and authority than I do. So I suppose I'm stuck here in my not-so-perfect little life. I guess I'm left to being the perfect girl that they expect me to be.
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