Donor 23 Read Online Free PDF Page A

voice. “I…”
    “Speak up,” he ordered.
    “A long time ago, I wrote a poem about you. It was for a school contest—for your birthday. I won a prize for it. All of us who won received an award at Our Governor’s palace.”
    “Isn’t that nice?” Snapping his fingers, he said with a haughty smile and amusement in his voice, “I remember you.”
    The group snickered, but Joan didn’t understand his sarcasm.
    “Let’s see, you were wearing a dress, right?”
    Joan was stunned.
    “Uh, yes, sir. I was, sir.”
    “That was a very nice poem. You’re smart, too.” Motioning to the field, “You do very well out there. I hear you’re a hard worker.”
    “Thank you, sir. I try to, for…for my benefactor.”
    “Yes, and you’re aware I’m your benefactor? Well, it’s my daughter, but I pay the bills.”
    Again, laughter resonated from the group.
    “Yes, I’m aware, and it’s a great honor.” Joan hoped that was the right thing to say.
    “You favor one of your legs. Is there a problem?”
    With a touch of pleading in her voice, she said, “No, I didn’t have a chance to stretch out fully today, sir. I can have it better tomorrow. Sir.”
    “Look up, 23,” he ordered.
    Joan, ever obedient, looked right at him. She didn’t have to crane her neck upward because he was only a few inches taller than she. The Governor had a slim physique. His steel gray eyes, which were the color of a dull knife, sliced right through a person, and she instinctively pulled her head slightly back away from them. He had sharp features, with angular cheeks incongruously ending to a rather rounded chin. He wore his dark hair slicked back; the dark black mingled with a tad of gray. He didn’t mind the gray hair, for he set the standard. Citizens strove to emulate him. His teeth shined a brilliant white, but those in the back were yellow. All in all, though, he cut a fine figure, conspicuous for his smartness. In an unsettling and indefinable way, however, a discreet malice hovered about him.
    Joan was used to seeing his visage on the ubiquitous posters, and when she looked at him now, she saw a noose around her mother’s neck. The Alliance executed her mother for breaking his laws. And Joan also saw the part that she had played in the incident—the awful part no one else knew. The memory of it flashed inside her. Her eyes, which had been mute and shy in the face of her superior, now for an instant raged. Then, just as suddenly, the emotion left, and she hurriedly looked down. She felt the eternal conflict again. She must worship him as taught in school—revere him. She hoped he hadn’t noticed anything.
    He stared at her, “Keep working hard, 23. Hard work pays off, as I’m sure you know. So keep it up. We appreciate it.”
    “I will, sir.”
    “You can go now,” he smiled at her.
    She turned around to leave, and relief swept over her. They weren’t going to cut her loose after all. She tried to hide her limp, as she ran down the steps. Our Governor smiled at her and told her he appreciated her work—conflicting emotions again.

    Gates watched her run off. He noticed the flare in her eyes. It was something rarely seen in the eyes of anyone who stood before him, let alone a donor.
    “Is it really necessary for Tegan to get a new heart?” Mrs. Gates posited to her husband. “If anything, we should tax that 23 for her eyes. Beautiful light blue, did you see? They’d look great in Tegan. But her heart? Tegan wins so often already. She won’t be competing for much longer. Her heart’s fine. I mean, how important is it?”
    Gates stood silent, concentrating on the glass in his hand. True, Tegan wouldn’t be competing much longer, but someday she would be the Governor. In this rebuilding and fluid new world, a leader needed to project an aura of strength, of power, and of supremacy—not only to impress the citizens but to intimidate and control the donors. Donors outnumbered citizens four to one. There were the other