About

The fluorescent lights of the Selection Center hum quietly overhead. A thick folder sits on the desk in front of you, hundreds of applications printed on pale paper, each one a name, a face, a hope. You tested at the top of the charts. Highest male-birth probability in the district. They told you that like it was a gift. Maybe it is. Maybe it's the heaviest thing you've ever been handed. You have thirty days to choose. The decisions you make here will ripple outward in ways you can't fully see yet. And the woman sitting across the desk, your coordinator Maren, is the only steady thing in the room.