Crimson Dawn

Lex had never left Bancarduu in his twelve years, and he didn’t even try to think about the fact that one day, for the rest of his life, he’d be working off his short existence in a crater as a poor miner. He had heard plenty about the miners' diseases, who were often exposed to high levels of radiation. Accidents, cancer, and back-breaking work were the obvious reasons why life expectancy dropped below thirty years. Here in Bancarduu, the capital and industrial center of the mining colony, the air was polluted by countless mining rigs and smelters despite the filtration systems, yet the average life expectancy was still 32 years.

The teacher said nothing. Her eyes had been skimming over some text for a while now, its tiny letters reflected unreadably in her glasses. They sat across from each other like strangers. The teacher exuded an aura of confidence, and the boy felt like a foreign object swimming in it.

His eyes wandered around.

On the opposite walls hung two 80-inch screens, displaying portrait photos of the students. Next to his photo, there was a profile opened up with data about him. He, Lex Marrow, had been born on August 20th, 2650; until now, he had only ever bothered to remember the year.

"A bright future lies ahead of you," the teacher suddenly began. Her voice sounded serious, but it had to be a joke. A bad one.

"Out of the 140 students in this grade, there are only fifteen with outstanding achievements. And not only are you one of them, you’re the top student."

He nodded. "Thanks," he added.

"That wasn’t a compliment, it was a fact. Whether it’s mineralogy, math, physics, first aid, biology, or craftsmanship—you haven’t shown any weaknesses, which has made it pretty difficult for me to choose the right career path for you. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I couldn’t recognize the greatest of your many talents."

"I already told you what I want to be," he replied.

The teacher looked at him. She ignored the hint of impertinence, likely recognizing it as a product of limited education, something she knew all too well. "Before I hand you your report card, we need to address the critical questions. After all, this is more than just school. Just because you're privileged doesn’t mean you’re free from the debt owed by the rest of the workers on Limbo. School is merely the preparation for your true purpose. It’s my duty as a teacher to ensure you're worthy of walking that path. So, let's begin: Along with the prayer for salvation, there is something else that must be deeply ingrained in the minds of the convicts—something they must be able to recall at any moment. In the end, you shape your lives around it. Do you know what I’m talking about?"

The boy hesitated. "The Code?" he asked.

"The Code. I imagine there could be many codes. Which one do you mean exactly?"

"I only know one. The Convict's Code."

"Good. Can you recite it for me?"

"I think so," he said, taking a deep breath. "Convicts live for work and work for forgiveness. The body is the tool to free the mind." He paused, thinking. "Hard work means atonement. After hard work comes death, and with it, salvation. Only through obedience and diligence will God accept the convicts."

The teacher frowned as the boy finished. "It goes: Only the obedient and diligent will stand by God's side."

"Sorry."

The teacher nodded. "What matters most is that you understand the message," she said, "and you do. I’ll make a note in your file so your future supervisor can ask you again about the Convict's Code. Next time, everything needs to be perfect, or you'll find yourself in serious trouble."

"Understood," he replied.

She made a note, which immediately updated on the profile displayed on one of the large screens. Then she looked up at him. "In what year was Cetos Five colonized by the rest of humanity, and under whose leadership did it happen?"

"That was in the year 2360," the boy replied. "That’s when Henry James Thandros led the, the… oh man, I forgot the word."

"Then describe the word."

"Well, um. Henry James Thandros was the captain of the generation ship, and he led the journey from Earth here to the Tau Ceti system."

"Yes. Henry James Thandros was the commander of the generation ship. He led the star expedition and became the first president of the newly founded colony on Cetos Five, whose capital was named Vega Prime in 2370—ten years after the colony was established."

"Yeah, I knew that," the boy said.

"How would you describe Henry James Thandros? What is he to all of us?"

The boy hesitated, because he wasn’t allowed to tell the truth. "Henry James Thandros is the savior of humanity," he lied. "He’s a hero."

The teacher sighed in satisfaction, as if it truly mattered to her that he passed. "Very good. Next question: Who was exiled to the prison moons?"

"Uh, mostly murderers and people who didn’t follow the law during the journey from Earth to here."

"Can you sum up that kind of person in a single word?"

He hesitated again. Then: "Traitors?"

"No. Scum," the teacher said calmly and seriously, without a trace of judgment in her voice. "It was human scum that was exiled to four of the many moons of the gas giant Kronos. Murderers and thieves. Ruthless individuals who, in humanity’s darkest hour, wanted to stab the rest of us in the back. They are, in a word, scum, and you are their direct descendants. Tell me, Lex Marrow, do you believe in inherited guilt?"

"Yes. Of course," he lied. He was about to recite the rehearsed definition of inherited guilt when the teacher nodded and asked him more questions like this, which he answered as best as he could, in the way he knew she expected. By the end, he wasn’t sure how he had done. The teacher’s gaze returned to her computer screen, and she started typing. After a moment, a kind smile formed on her lips.

"I’ve just sent you your report," she said.

Immediately, he switched on the screen of his data device, which he had been holding in his lap the entire time, and with a pounding heart, checked his inbox. His teacher’s message was at the top.

The cover page of the two-page certificate said it all: Assigned to duty as a mining engineer.