Rewinder Read Online Free PDF

fellow students in passing, if at all. For that reason, attachments during training are discouraged.
    “Your instruction will occur through various methods, including daily individual sessions and occasional group meetings such as this. Let’s see.” He looks back at his colleagues. “Have I missed anything?”
    The others shake their heads.
    When Sir Gregory looks back at us, he says, “I know you have many questions. The best way to get answers is in a one-on-one meeting with your personal instructor, so if you will all rise.”
    We stand.
    “Single file, please, after me.”
    When we leave the classroom, Sir Gregory leads us through the building and into a hallway with twelve numbered doors on either side.
    “I’ll call out names followed by a number,” Sir Gregory says. “Once you hear your name, proceed to the corresponding room. This will be the room you use throughout training, so don’t forget your number.”
    As I wait for my name to be called, I try to memorize the others’ names. The girl who all but called me a servant is Lidia Brewer. She’s sent to room 18, and I can’t help but hope I’m assigned a room nowhere near hers. When Sir Gregory says my name, though, the number he announces after it is 17.
    When I enter the room, the first thing I notice is how white it is—walls, ceiling, floor—and then the three pieces of furniture that fill the space—a wooden table between two metal chairs. No one is present so I’m unsure which seat to take. I decide I want to see who comes into the room so I scoot around the table and claim my place.
    It’s several minutes before the door finally opens, and a woman in a simple gray dress with a bag over her shoulder enters. She’s shorter than I am by nearly a foot, and if she weighs more than seven and a half stones I’d be shocked. Her hair is dark, almost black, and cut so that it barely touches the tops of her ears. What I notice most, though, is the aura of confidence that moves with her. It’s not something you see in the neighborhood where I grew up.
    After closing the door, she takes the other seat. “Hello, Denny,” she says, holding out her hand. “I’m Marie Jennings. Welcome to the Upjohn Institute.”
    “Thank you,” I say as we shake.
    “I’m to be your personal instructor during your training,” she says. “And you are to be one of our potential Rewinders.”
    “Yes, um, so what exactly is a Rewinder?”
    “That’s the big question, isn’t it? What do you think?”
    I’ve done nothing but try to figure that out since leaving the classroom, but am no closer to an answer so I shrug and shake my head.
    “The definition’s very straightforward,” she says. “A Rewinder is a verifier of personal histories.”
    “Okaaay,” I say, still not understanding.
    “Had you heard of the Upjohn Institute before you came here?”
    “Never.”
    She sets her bag on the table and removes a leather-bound sheath. After opening it, she studies one of the papers inside and then looks up. “That’s right. You were an Eight before.” There’s no judgment in her voice, which surprises me, as she clearly comes from a higher caste.
    “I feel like I’m still an Eight.”
    “Give it time,” she says. “Pretty soon you won’t even think about what you are or where you came from. All right, let’s talk about the institute for a moment. It was established with a singular purpose. People come to us to trace and verify their family histories. To have a history certified by the Upjohn Institute means that no one can dispute your lineage. No one. Our results are accepted by the very top of society.”
    By very top, she must mean the king. Just the thought of working at a job even remotely connected to the Crown is terrifying.
    “So a Rewinder does these verifications?” I ask.
    “Correct.”
    “How, exactly?”
    “Quite simple. You will observe and report.”
    “Observe?”
    She reaches into her bag and pulls out a wooden