"Welcome to a picturesque Day 11,348 in The Society. As a 2B Civilian, it is your duty to attend lessons at the Institute. We look forward to your expeditious arrival." The Communicator cuts out sharply, and you exhale a deep sigh of relief.

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Sitting up, you sleepily gaze around the shadowy corners of your bedroom. Locating your dilapidated oak dresser, you recall that you forgot to clean your Colors yesterday. Surely an Observer at the Institute will mention it, hopefully not Observer Daniels.

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Stumbling out of bed, you don your golden Colors and affix your white United Covenant pin just above your heart. Right before opening the bedroom door, you catch yourself immersed in the mirror, studying every inch of your Colors. You never could get used to the gold, you note to yourself, shaking your head.

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Downstairs, your mom greets you in the kitchen with a soft, demure smile as she slides a plate of half-charred toast across the table. "Morning," she states. "Remember, your father and I have an Event of Pride this evening. Once you return from the Institute, get yourself something to eat," she insists.

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"Mhmm," you grumble, barely peering up from your plate.

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"Please, Josiah," she re-affirms, moving her hand across yours, before almost immediately recoiling and turning toward the window. After a few moments, she starts again. "I hope you enjoy your lessons today. Your father and I will see you later this evening," she states coldly.

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"Thanks mom," you mutter in response. Rising from your chair, you start towards the front door. As you cross under the kitchen archway, you hear your mom scramble across the hardwood behind you.

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"Josiah!" she calls. Stopping in your tracks, you turn toward her as she pushes you toward the corner and embraces you. "Please—avoid the Old Square. They'll be looking for golden Colors," she whispers, pulling you in tightly and pecking you on the cheek.

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"I know, mom. I always avoid purple when I can," you reply softly, making eye contact with her. Nodding, she breaks away quickly after stealing a peek at the Communicator anchored to the ceiling.

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Stepping into the dreary grey outdoors, you're greeted with throngs of golden and purple Colors bustling through the red brick street. As you cross Street #4, you avoid the hordes of purple moving around you. You reach the edge of the street and come to a halt, debating whether to turn left toward the Institute or veer right to Old Square.

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