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there was little else about the life of a child in the compounds that resembled the life of any other child. There was little about the children themselves that resembled any other children in the world.
    Tabitha had lived at Humanity for her entire life, but had only been given access to the entire facility since Apartheid came to an end a few years earlier. Before Apartheid ended, the residents of “colored” descent, and the residents of “white” descent were kept in different facilities, although Tabitha thought it ironic since all the albino residents were technically the same color. Everywhere else in the world skin color meant so much for a person’s race, but in the compound, only in the fullness of your lips and the texture of your hair could your true origins be found. For a child that grew up in the compound, albinism was the only race they knew. The black children were the antonym of their race, the white children the extreme of theirs. They were minorities among minorities, a community of the colorless, but within these walls it didn’t seem that they were a minority at all.
    C h a p t e r  3
    Anytha couldn’t help noticing that Camp congregation days seemed to be getting increasingly intense as of late. It seemed that Commissioner Inali’s sermons and decrees were becoming more passionate and powerful in the last few weeks. No matter what, Inali always seemed to have something fresh up his sleeve to amaze or shock the entire congregation. His unpredictable and charming nature drew thousands of people to the doors of their camp every week.
    Commissioner Inali was a rising star in the Practice of Blue, being one of the most notably effective Starters in the country. He was the first colored man in the entire Practice to begin his Camp before Apartheid had even ended, and this fact alone drew members of all races— those looking to shake the heinous ties of racism—to the doors of his Camp. Inali was known for his booming voice that fit the liking of his large body perfectly. To Anytha, he stood what seemed like seven feet high, with dark skin and a shaved bald head. His arms bulged, looking bigger than most men’s thighs, and his broad shoulders and perfectly straight teeth made him a prize among the women of the camp. He was as handsome as they came: charismatic, poised, stylish and intelligent. His suits were tailored to perfection for his chiseled, muscular body, and he was never seen in public without one. Inali looked like both a preacher, and a male fitness model at the same time; his shear presence had the ability to suck the self-confidence out of the pit of anyone’s stomach.
    However, as soon as he spoke to you, your confidence would return, stronger than before. Inali had a way of encouraging his camp members in a way that very few people could. His words were moving—full of wit and depth. His stories were entrancing, and his words were only made more beautiful by the person that spoke them. He was the type of human that one encounters rarely in a lifetime—so close to perfection in the eyes of so many, and yet seemingly humble, spending his valuable time speaking with as many camp members as possible throughout the week.
    The auditorium where they heard Inali’s sermons was shaped like a white, concrete hemisphere, resembling a man-made hill rising out of the ground surrounded by white limestone.
    The sun was hot in the sky today. For the first time in weeks, there were no rainclouds overhead. The bright parking lot circling the building’s perimeter shone back the heat of the day. Walking into the dim foyer of the auditorium took the stress of the sun off of Anytha’s eyes immediately.
    Anytha and her parents walked through the front doors into the building, shaking hands with the decrees that were welcoming guests at the door and handing out brochures with announcements and recent events. The lights in the auditorium were dim, which usually meant that pyrotechnics or an intense