1st 5 Pages October Workshop- Chin Rev 2

Name: Shirlyn Chin

Genre: Young Adult Science Fiction

Title: Weight of Your Legacy

Pitch:

Michi Harada has one goal in mind: establish communication with her father, who is currently jailed in a maximum-security prison. A goal more easily said than done, given Michi’s status as a fugitive and the fact that her father’s case cannot be disclosed, since it is supposedly a matter of national security.

When Michi unearths that her father has actually been working as a scientist at a classified laboratory, it is like a stab to her heart. All these years, he wasn’t in prison after all. Even worse, Michi can see how her father’s medical background makes him a valuable asset in contributing to the international counter-terrorist effort. In a world where terrorist attacks have graduated to using bio-weaponry, firearms are no longer enough to stop these attacks. Michi’s father refuses to go home, not when he knows he is making a difference, especially since his wife, Michi’s mother, was killed in a terrorist attack.

Now, Michi has to choose between staying with her father and potentially contributing to his work or going home with her best friend and leaving her only remaining parent.  

Pages:

Chapter 1

MICHI

CANADA

There is a short queue outside the prison clinic as usual, but today, the line is made up of correctional officers rather than sick or injured inmates. Jittery on nerves, I barely notice the difference. It isn’t until I have opened the clinic’s door that I stop myself belatedly and knock.

Inside the brightly lit office, possibly the cleanest room in the entire prison, Uncle looks up, a syringe in his hand and a frown already in place. “Michi?” he says, perplexed. He puts the syringe down. “Is something wrong?”

Sitting across from Uncle, one of my more irritating colleagues raises an eyebrow. Henry has his sleeve rolled up, ready for his flu inoculation shot. He smirks at the sight of me. “Harada!” he calls with false merriment. “Having your lunch break?”

I know what he is insinuating: come to see uncle dearest? It is a long-running joke in the prison that Uncle only adopted me because he suffered from a sudden fit of loneliness eleven years ago. A perfect match, they like to call Uncle and me – an unsociable and quiet girl for an equally unsociable and quiet man, a man who looks like he doesn’t know the first thing about being a father. The joke is getting really stale, especially today, when I am anxious and irritable enough as it is.

I ignore Henry; he isn’t the one I’ve come to see anyway. Finally meeting Uncle’s eyes, I’m unsurprised at the pointed questions in them. There is nothing Uncle can do today except to act normal. I am the one who can further our plan along, so he has to trust me with this. Uncle is never good at trusting people. “Michi,” he repeats now. “Is something wrong?”

I can’t help the sigh that escapes. “Nothing’s wrong, Uncle.”

His eyes remain on me, urging for more information. “Did you have your interview already?”

“No. I… I’m going there. Soon.”

“Did you want to ask me something before the interview?”

“No, Uncle.”

“Did you forget, um…” Uncle makes some vague, uncomfortable gestures, what with the presence of a third party in the room. “Did you forget one of the answers we practiced last night?”

“No, I didn’t.” I have perfected my answers to every comma and full-stop. I won’t forget.

Uncle blinks at my response. I can almost hear his thoughts: Then what are you doing here?

A little voice in me answers, Hoping for a ‘good luck’. There is nothing Uncle can do today. Everything is on me. A hug is too much to ask, but a ‘good luck’ isn’t. Is it?

Flustered, I move further into the room, noting how full the small dustbin beside Uncle is, cluttered with empty vaccine bottles. I thump the cup I am holding on Uncle’s table. “I brought a cup of coffee for you.”

“I see,” Uncle says, uncomprehending. “Thank you.” Turning back to Henry, he picks up the syringe once more. “I think it is better that you go now, Michi. It’s impolite to be late.”

As I watch, Uncle sticks the syringe into a new bottle of vaccine, pulls the liquid out, and injects it into Henry’s arm. Then, pressing the injection site with a small piece of cotton, Uncle puts a bandage over it. Everything over and done under five minutes; Uncle’s steady hands never falter. I wring my shaking hands enviously.

“All right.” Uncle angles his tablet to Henry and gives him a pen. “Sign here, please.” Uncle points to the bottom of the electronic form, declaring that the person in question has already received his inoculation shot.

There was a time when the Ministry of Health had the idea of using flu vaccination patches. It was shortly after World War III, when people were clamouring for increased health care because of the epidemics. Shaped and used like a bandage, so that people could self-administer flu vaccinations at home, the flu patches had sounded like a good solution for the problem at the time – all the citizens could be vaccinated in a shorter period without having to rely on doctors. But when imitations of the flu patches started popping up in the black market, people started buying the imitations and hoarding them, thinking that the more vaccinations one injected, the better.

The use of flu vaccination patches is abolished now. Still, there is a steady black market for government-grade flu vaccines, so Uncle takes the inventories of his vaccines and medicine supplies very seriously.  

Uncle sighs when he notices me hovering. “Michi Harada, stop wasting time. Go to your interview now.”

Henry barely suppresses his laughter. He finishes signing and hands the tablet back to Uncle. The jerk shoots me a tragic look, mouthing “aw”.

Why did I think Uncle will be different today just because of my interview? I whip around to the door, grounding my teeth. Henry saunters behind me, getting too close for my comfort.

Once we are out of the clinic, he claps me on the back before I can move away. “Good luck, Harada!” he exclaims, making sure the COs^[1] lining along the hallway hears him. “I know you can’t wait to leave us to guard a maximum-security prison. So good luck!”

In response, my colleagues shoot me dirty looks. “Yeah, good luck, Harada,” one of them mutters. “You are just like your ‘uncle’,” another sneers. “Think yourselves high and mighty. I hope you get your transfer. Crestfield can have you.”

You are just like your ‘uncle’. That comment stops me cold. Slowly, I turn back and glare at them, my colleagues, a slew of words which will get me in trouble with Uncle at the tip of my tongue.

Unsociable or not, Uncle is still my family. He and I have both sacrificed so much to find out why otou-san^[2] is jailed in Crestfield. If it isn’t for otou-san, Uncle could’ve worked in a hospital rather than a prison, like he’d originally wanted to. I might have become a doctor instead of a correctional officer.

Hell, if it isn’t for otou-san, Uncle and I wouldn’t have needed to run away from home and migrate to Canada in the first place.

“Swallow your own tongues, jerks,” I growl.

Veering left, I march down the hallway towards the Warden’s office.

“Oo!” they shout behind my back, sounding like a bunch of imbeciles.

I suppose I should be grateful that these twerps didn’t say anything in front of Uncle, at least. There was a time when they would’ve.

The hallway is unusually empty today. Since this is one of the hallways which lead towards the prisoners’ unit, it is usually crowded with new prisoners coming in or existing prisoners going out for their court hearings. I pass by two of my colleagues. One of them give me a sidelong glance. I catch the words “Crestfield” and “transfer”.

They think I’m a snob, I know; same as the way they think of Uncle. When I started working here at nineteen, I discovered that Uncle was well-known among these bricked walls and bars. The Warden must have blabbed about Uncle’s credentials at some point, because everybody in the prison knew that Uncle could’ve worked in a big hospital rather than a prison. A point that works against Uncle’s favour, since he is quiet to begin with.