On the Write Path

by Iliana Sandoval

Wednesday May 13, 2026

Chapter 1

We were standing over the red brick at the top of the Dundurn Square steps, when the sky whistled towards us. They had set off the fireworks. 

“Why do they even launch those damn things?” David said, mostly to himself. “No one can even see them. The sun hasn’t set.”

“To let us know we finally made it,” I responded, sarcastically

“Do you think you’re ready, Javier?”

“No.” I said, looking down into the crowd. 

It was the evening of our graduation and one of us was going to win The Contract. When the fireworks tapered off, I heard Geraldine Hamilton speak into a microphone. Her voice was barely audible. It was as if I was the only one that had heard her. Having to hear her filled me with rage. She quickly adjusted the mic and told everyone that the ceremony was about to begin. Then, she ordered all of us to our seats. People began to shuffle, looking for their chair. Geraldine glared at them, looking almost surprised, as if she had excepted everyone to clap after her announcement. She forced a smile. She was the owner of Geraldine Inc., Geraldine owned all of us.

We made our way down the steps to where all the chairs were located. Next to our seating stood a tall white sign, with bolded black letters. It said: “Reserved for Graduates.” Behind us sat the Canaster Administration and the Labour Union. They both came every year to celebrate The Contract. Behind them sat our families. As I walked, I saw my mother, she was sitting in her chair looking through the graduation program. My sister, Elena, was next to her and our eyes met. We had grown up talking about this day and that day had come. I was going to graduate, and I could tell she wanted to cry. 

Everything blurred together. I was the last person to be announced: Javier Campos. I hated that there were so many people there to watch. I never liked crowds. They blinded fold me, like they had David and the rest of the class. I could hear the curtains close.

I heard someone call my name. It was Taylor. I hadn’t had a chance to see him before the ceremony. His voice was shaky. He sounded just like the day he told me, Paul his brother had gone missing.

“Yeah,” I replied, so silently, worried anyone else would hear. 

I listened to him take a slow deep breath. “You know I’ve been afraid of death all my life.” He steadied his tone. “I think about it every day, even more after what happened to my brother.” He paused for less than a moment and then went on, “Do you think he’s dead?” 

“I don’t know,” I replied, wishing I had more to offer.

He scoffed, and then every word that came out of his mouth lingered, so slowly, as if he had already accepted that he had no chance. “I don’t think death will let me think about life.” 

I trembled and called out his name. But Taylor did not respond. It was almost like the Administration had taken pity on him. As if they had allowed him to say his last rites. I never heard his voice again. I wish I could tell you what happened to him, but I don’t know. I don’t know what happened to any of them.

Geraldine Hamilton removed my blindfold. 

I looked around. Where did they all go, I wondered. Petrified, I could feel myself becoming numb.

“You better smile or I’ll have your sister killed before she even starts school,” Geraldine asserted, staring into my eyes. Her voice was sharp and cruel. 

I forced a grin, and she pushed me forward. 

A member from the Labour Union, 0706 – or Miles, as I came to know him – appeared from behind us and walked towards the curtains. 

Walking passed us, he welcomed me to the Union. His voice was joyful and warm, as if he wasn’t a robot

I had never spoken to anyone from the Union before.

“Well, say something,” Geraldine demanded. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those anti-union people.” 

“N-no…,” I responded. 

“It’s quite alright, Geraldine,” interrupted 0706, waving his hand dismissively. Then he pulled the cord, drawing the curtains open. 

I was now in front of everyone. Geraldine yelled into her microphone, announcing that I was the winner. The Union and Administration stood up and cheered, as if I had won the lottery. 

Everyone else was slumped, terrified of what had happened. Their eyes were empty, as if life had escaped them a long time ago. There were no bodies to bury, because no one knew what happened, yet they painted The Contract like a prize. 

“You got hired, kid,” he said, as if his kind hadn’t taken our jobs.