They said I had no mind, no ears, no wants. “I’m here!” I cry to the darkness. But nobody hears.

The day I have feared and expected for so long has come. I step off the hovercraft. The guard accompanying me bends down and makes funny faces. I keep a straight face - Stults are supposed to be without feelings and thought. That’s what we were originally bred to be like anyway. My only purpose is to follow orders. We have no names, only numbers. Mine is 24601. The guard speaks to me in a funny voice: “Awww, look at you. You’re so stupid, yes you are!” He laughs. “Did you know that the name ‘Stult’ is short for ‘stultus,’ meaning stupid in Latin? I bet the genetic engineers had a good laugh over that one!”

I’m led into a huge beautiful house where my new life as a servant/slave to the Summers family is to begin. There’re the parents and Asher, who’s 13. My age.

I struggle in the deep dark, with the stars as my guide. How will I redeem my people? With the words from the trees, I will be their savior.

Life here isn’t bad. I spend my days doing housework. The parents usually just ignore me, but Asher is always kind to me, although more like to a pet. One day I make a mistake, and he catches me reading an ebook that was left on a fluid interface. He stares at me, “You. . . you can read?”

I freeze, knowing I cannot let him know. I’d been told too many times about the consequences. They involve plasma guns! But Asher doesn’t let go: “How? We were always told . . .”

I take a deep breath: “Yes, we were originally bred that way, but somehow we evolved. I’m just like you. Please, don’t tell anyone!” I close my eyes and wait for him to run and tell on me, but he stays. He clears his throat: “I won’t say anything, but let’s talk later. Meet me in my tree house after dinner.” He leaves the room, and I sink to the floor in relief.

I’ve held my head down, let it all slide past, but now, that is a thing of the past. I will not stay silent, I will not stay still. The fire inside me is burning, and I will rise from the ashes.

Asher and I’ve been meeting for months in his treehouse. We discuss everything from sports to why the sky is blue. Asher gives me little math and science lessons. I trust him enough now to show him the poetry I write, and he loves it. I am happy for the first time in my life.

His parents are starting to ask questions, but Asher just tells them he always wanted a pet and a Stult is perfect for the role. That characterization of me puts them at ease for now, but I worry.

Nothing happens for a while, and I relax. Until one day, we come inside, and the parents are waiting for us there. “24601, come!” I follow Asher's mom into the laundry room. She turns: “We know what you have been doing with Asher, we overheard you in a treehouse. I should return you, but I like having a house-slave around. You’re never to speak to my son again. Do you understand?” I’m so scared, I can only nod . . .

I’ve dealt, been here, done that. But my “beens” and my “dones” have never been mine. Forced to watch all I hold dear slip away in the sands of cruelty.

I sneak into Asher’s room later. I just can’t stop speaking to him without explaining. Asher spots me and grins: “Hey! Guess what! I have two things to tell you! Do you want to hear the good thing first, or the best first?” “I suppose the best one first,” I say quietly. He beams: “I’d hoped you'd say that! I got a great idea! It’s just stupid to just call you 24601 all the time, so how about Emma?! It means 'complete'. Isn't it perfect?” My heart aches for my new and instantly lost name. “Asher, I have something to tell you-” He cuts me off, “And guess what! My dad says I’m old enough to finally get some enhancements! I’ll be stronger, faster, smarter! Isn’t that cool!” “Yes it is, but Asher-” He cuts me off again, “I can’t wait! Maybe you’ll be able to get them too? I can explain to my parents about you…” “Asher,” I say firmly, “Your parents know everything. This’ll be our last real conversation. It’s over.” I turn away, I don’t want him to see the tears welling in my eyes. “I’m sorry,” I say.

Sunlight filtering through the grey smog, ferocious winds, pulling me apart. But now, I will stand tall, and I will become a mighty oak tree, pulling apart the dirt with my roots.

A week passes. The whole family just ignores me. I spend my days cleaning up after the Summers, and dreaming about the future I’ll never have.

I miss Asher, his laughter and our conversations. I feel like I’m suffocating. I lie in my bed a long time one night unable to fall asleep. My eyes snap open as I feel somebody leaning over me. “Shhh!” I sigh in relief as I recognize Asher’s voice. “Come on. Let’s get out of here!” I take his proffered hand and silently follow him out into the woods surrounding the house until I cannot contain myself any longer: “What happened?” Asher smiles with sadness, “I overheard my parents talking tonight. They decided to turn you in – apparently, there is too much risk of you ‘corrupting’ me.” My heart stops, as he continues: “Also, you know, those enhancements I was so excited about?” I nod mutely. “Well, they make you better, yes, but also cruel and unfeeling. I don’t want that! How can my parents be fine with it!” He turns away in sadness. I take his hand and we continue for a long time without speaking.

Blue wind swirls in a dark landscape giving darkness to the young and old. A light breaks, and the sun comes out.

We’ve been living in the woods for a while now eating berries and mushrooms. Nobody’s found us yet, although Asher’s parents must be looking! Neither of us has any ideas what to do. One morning, as we marvel at the sunlight shining through the dank cave we've been living in, Asher turns to me with bright eyes: “I have an idea, we must show the world the poetry you write. Nobody without feeling or intelligence can write like that! People will understand that Stults are just like us and you and all Stults will be free!” I smile at his boyish enthusiasm: “I don’t think it’s going to be that simple. . .” Asher takes an enote out of his backpack and I recognize my poetry.” “I just couldn’t leave it behind,” he says and I feel happy tears coming. “I’m in,” I say.

Later that night, we sneak into a nearby town appropriately called Freedom. We break into its beam lab, find a beamer and send a page from my enote with a caption “By Emma, FKA as Stult 24601” to all the people in the beamer’s archive. And with a sigh of relief, our work is done. As we flee the lab, Asher and I look at each other and grin – we are on our way!

My legs were tied down, with heavy stones. Sticks were thrown at my feathered wings. But now, I have shaken my rocks off, and I can fly free.

Even we’re surprised at how fast my poetry spreads among the people, it’s all over the country after only one month! The government tries to delete the beamed copies, confiscate the versions that people printed out, and jail the people distributing it, but people hide it and send my poetry to their neighbors and friends.

We have to find a different hiding place and keep moving as the police come to search the woods around the town of Freedom. Occasionally, we slip into some village and watch the news from outside of some house. The HoloVision shows geneticists and psychologists arguing about whether it’s possible for Stults to write poetry, but people seem to believe us! They also show mass demonstrations against the Stult program. When the presidential election time comes, there’s even a candidate that campaigns on a “Free Stults” platform, although nobody thinks that he’ll get elected. On the day when election results are announced, Asher and I are waiting with bated breath under an open window of a cottage in the middle of nowhere. We hope against hope that “our” President is chosen. When the results comes in, I spring up, tears in my eyes. I hug Asher. “We did it,” I whisper. We’re finally free!