Confusion clouds her mind. Her hands feel numb. She turns around and stares at the woman in line behind her. She scowls at Lynell and looks down at her phone. The air-conditioning grows louder.

“Registree’s date of birth?” Lynell hears the clerk ask.

Lynell hears the man’s rumbling voice answer correctly. January 31st. Twenty-four years ago. He knows her birthday. He knows her.

Well enough to want to Register her. To waste his Registration on her.

Does she know him? Zachary Price. The name doesn’t ring a bell. Who is he? Has she done something to him?

“Fill out this form. Be sure to include your social identification number at the bottom. Sign here, here, here, and here. Write the Reg—” Lynell checks out again, her ears filling with a deafening roar.

She looks down at her hands, sees them shaking, watches bulbs of sweat gather on the back.

She trips when the lady behind her shoves her.

“Make a little space,” the lady behind her barks.

Lynell looks up and sees the man who Registered her turning towards the commotion. Before he can see her face and she his, Lynell turns away, breathing hard.

Zachary Price. She has never heard the name in her life. She’s sure of it.

“What are—” the lady gasps as Lynell pushes her out of the way and starts for the door.

The world seems to tip as she grasps the handle.

I’m here to Register Lynell Mize.

Lynell shoves the door open and falls into the world outside. A little boy turns to look at her, smiling wide to reveal two missing front teeth. He stops moving and Lynell trips over the tip of his shoe. She reaches out for a hold on something and the closest thing in her path is his shoulder.

The boy screams. His mom tugs him out of Lynell’s grasp and starts yelling at her but the only thing she can hear is Zachary Price’s voice.

I’m here to Register Lynell Mize.

The phrase repeats itself over and over in her mind. Screaming, whispering, echoing. Promising death. Making use of the gift of the Registration.

The gift that doesn’t feel like a gift when you’re on the other side.

I’m here to Register Lynell Mize.

She dares a look back and sees the door open. Without waiting to see who steps out, she takes off running. She pushes a man out of the way and dimly hears him shout at her. Then she stumbles over the legs of a homeless woman and lands hard on her elbows.

Pain shoots up her arms and the world returns to focus, filled with color that she didn’t know had drained away. She blinks. Her ears ring and her mind seems to shake, unable to grasp the enormity of the situation she finds herself in. She smells trash and body odor. The homeless woman next to her is ranting about the Registration taking everything from her after her husband had been Registered and that the rebels are right and the Elysians are tyrants.