I am not ugly, I am more that that. I am grotesque. Sarah, the care’s foster maternal figure, tells me that my birth parents were A.s, or Attractives, and they were also cousins. Sometimes this kind of inbreeding results in positive mutations, but often it creates children like me. I have poor vision and weak knees that give out when I stand for long period of time. My nose is slightly too big, my eyes are a little too far apart, and my skin color is too pale. While by the Hideous I am considered average, by Attractive standards, I am disgusting.

I learned from an old history textbook I found buried in my backyard that over 500 years ago, slaves were kept in old United States. People rationalized it by thinking they were inferior, but the institution was eventually abolished when people grew to see how unhumane it was. The difference in our society, New Exxon, is that we are actually inferior. The average height of a female H. is 5’2”, while women A.’s are usually around 5’10. We have poorer eyesight, facial features, and physical strength, and this is drilled into us at the age of 8, when we begin school. Hideouses only go to school for 2 years, and we are not allowed to learn to read or write. If anyone found out that I could, my whole care house and I would be sentenced to death. At school, we learn about our superiors, the Attractives, and how we should never get ambitions. We learn how to cook, clean, and be respectful. We do not learn what the Attractive children learn in school, which among other things, is the ability to read. Literacy is dangerous to the Attractives. It would allow us to band together, to rise up. We out number them almost 100 to 1, yet we are so scared and disorganized we could never rise up. Next month, when I turn 16, I will be given to an Attractive family to do chores. This is considered the grace period, to warm up into forced labor. When I am 18, I will go before a panel of Attractive judges. If they deem me worthy of life, I will continue to live, and work in a factory 18 hours a day. If I look too weak or sick, I will buried in a mass grave on Chevron street, just a couple blocks over.