Proceeding down Street #6, the clouds gradually start to drizzle. Water droplets fall over your Colors as you continue ambling toward the Institute. 

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You wonder who will be the first to comment on the stain on your Colors. You guess it'll be Observer Daniels from his vigilant perch next to the entrance stairs each morning, but then again Observer Caldwell is notorious for his staunch appreciation for the Guidelines. Maybe they'll both mention something and it'll launch an argument over who's responsibility it is to discipline me. At least that would be entertaining, you chuckle to yourself.

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Turning onto Street #11, you find yourself gazing longingly at the Institute's towering spire shrouded partially by clouds. Only the most essential Observers are stationed in the Institute's tower, with the other high-ranking Observers occupying Observatory #2 in Old Square and Observatory #3 in the Outlying Lands.

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"Watch it!" yells an elderly man, suddenly colliding into you with his chest. The man is walking with two young girls, and they all sport the purple Colors of the Consolidated Coalition.

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"I'm sorry. I didn't see you," you call out as the family continues past you.

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"Watch out for our Colors next time!" the father retorts.

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Shaking your head, you curse yourself quietly as you come-upon the front facade of the Institute. You ascend the entrance stairs quickly, hardly allowing your feet to touch one step before striding for the next. Once at the top, you proceed toward the set of double-doors in front of you, catching a glimpse of Observer Daniels out of the corner of your eye. Ignoring his attempts at eye contact, you quicken your pace.

 

Right as you grip the door handle, a hand squeezes firmly on your shoulder. "Good morning. Have we forgotten the Guidelines today, Josiah Henry? It would truly upset me to begin this glorious morning disciplining you for forgetting Guideline 6C regarding daily upkeep of your Colors. Is it your personal goal to upset me, Josiah?"

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Turning to face Observer Daniels, you start apologizing profusely. "I apologize, Observer Daniels. I was careless with my Colors during a meal yesterday. It won't happen again, I swear."

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"It most certainly will not," he repeats loudly, before pausing again. "You will address this breach of Guidelines most seriously. If myself or another Observer witnesses a similar incident in the future, your discipline will be severe."

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"Of course, Observer Daniels. Thank you," you say, feigning appreciation.

​

 

 

Inside the sprawling third floor of the Institute, you head directly to your cramped classroom with Observer Holston. As far as Observers go, Holston is generally more forgiving as it relates to enforcing the Guidelines. With a somewhat quiet voice and sad eyes, you like to think that Holston is less committed to her role as an Observer than some of the zealots like Daniels.

 

Still, that doesn't prevent her from drilling you on your lessons each day. Today, she starts by concluding yesterday's lesson regarding the history of the Organization, before launching into a lesson on the role of the Organization in The Society.

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"While I'm sure most of you know this already, I must emphasize that the Organization is entirely dedicated to upholding our great Society. They safeguard us from the rest of this terrible world, from those who might seek to destroy this beautiful respite. They ensure the continued existence of both the United Covenant and the Consolidated Coalition," she continues. "As an independent, impartial entity, they strive to..."

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Sighing, you turn to peer out the window beside you, with Holston's words evaporating into the air. This vocational torture is worse than actual torture, you believe.

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To avoid listening to more of the endless dross offered by Holston, you scan some of your old doodles in your lesson book. Leafing through the worn pages, you come across a few of the classics: a cartoon of Observer Daniels screaming at a chicken, a rough sketch of your bedroom, and a drawing of the Institute's formidable facade.

 

Pausing to study your works, you come across a graphic rendering of a phrase you heard your mom say once: "THE NARROWS." That was three years ago. Since then, she hasn't brought it up—even going so far as to tell you never to mention it to anyone else. Still, you remain curious, ever hopeful for any more scrap of information on what that Event entails.

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After spending the rest of your lesson alternating between doodling and pretending to take notes, a Communicator finally sounds off on the ceiling, dismissing you from the Institute for the day. As always, you hurtle out the double-doors downstairs and toward Street #11.

 

Not even three steps out the door, you hear someone shout your name. "Josiah! Josiah!" Wheeling around, you spot a classmate and fellow golden Color, Andrew, hurrying past a group of other golden Colors toward you.

 

As far as golden Colors go, Andrew has always been kind despite not growing-up with his dad. Sporting bleach-blond hair and searing blue eyes, he's impossible not to recognize in a crowd.

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"Need something, Andrew?" you ask politely.

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"I just hoped we could catch-up," he answers, smiling warmly. "You headed back down Street #6?"

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"Yeah, going home," you reply curtly. "What did you want to catch up about?"

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"Not here. Walk." he whispers, leaning-in. "I know about 'The Narrows.' "

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Stopping dead in your tracks, you turn to face him. While you're desperate for answers about, 'The Narrows,' you're unsure whether you want to take the risk that comes with ignoring your mom's pleas.

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