Scripted Read Online Free PDF

scale near the door. I clench my fists as I watch the electronic display make up its mind.
    â€œYou hit your weight target.” Dr. Kanavan makes a note in my file.
    â€œGreat.” I relax my fingers. If only it were all so simple. If I don’t make my ratings target, the solution isn’t as simple as cutting my candy intake. I can guess what the Audience wants to see, but I’ll never know for sure. At my last Character Report, I asked Mik if he had any idea why my ratings had fallen, but he just clucked genially, patted my head, and reminded me of Clause 57, which limits how much the Reals can interfere with the show, the clause meant to keep
Blissful Days
natural and lifelike.
    I sit on the metal table in the middle of the room and watch as Dr. Kanavan types out a code on a number pad next to a cabinet. She lifts the cabinet’s cover and pulls out a tray of vaccination tubes, which she brings over and places on a table next to me. I stretch out my arm, and she preps the needle, then feels for a vein. I watch impassively as the needle slides under my skin, smooth as a diver slipping into water.
    Selwyn claims her arm is sore for weeks after Media1 vaccines, but I don’t feel much, and the red bumps the vaccinations leave behind vanish in a day or two. I turn my head and look at the thin sliver of sky the window shade leaves unconcealed, light blue with white undertones. It reminds me of Callen’s eyes.
    When I think about Callen, it’s like I’m teetering.
    â€œIt’s lovely, isn’t it?” Dr. Kanavan says, following my gaze to the window.
    But I never fall.
I blink, returning to real life.
    â€œSo beautiful. The scripted sky,” she continues.
    This morning while I was in history, company helicopters thrumming outside had startled me out of my semislumber. The windows had fogged up with the chemicals they use to control the weather.
    By this afternoon, the windows were clear, the clouds were gone, and what was left was the scripted sky.
    â€œAt home it never looks like that,” Dr. Kanavan says, loading up another injection. “Always dirty because of pollution. The sky in Zenta will probably be pitch-black while I’m there.”
    â€œThat’s too bad.” I shake my head, imagining Belle and my father stuck with a dark sky. Dr. Kanavan slides another needle in.
    â€œZenta wasn’t my top pick,” Dr. Kanavan murmurs. She keeps her eyes focused on the needle. “I wanted to go to the Drowned Lands. Everything’s so cheap, the sky is clean, food is fresh, and I heard the water’s clear as glass, but it’s not like you can trust their hotels to be sanitary. So many dumpy places there, and I hear you get swarmed by beggar children. Not to mention the Drowned Lands aren’t so safe for mainlanders right now.” She draws back the syringe, and the needle slides out.
    â€œI’ve heard the jets,” I venture. I have to be careful not to act too interested.
    â€œThe secession movement has picked up strength, and the government is having a lot of trouble stomping out all the rebel groups. They say some parts are secure, but I’m not going to risk it. I’ll stick to the luxuries of Zenta,” Dr. Kanavan says, gripping my arm firmly with her small hand and pressing in yet another needle. I avert my eyes and watch the custodian push his mop bucket down the hall through the open doorway. I wonder if Belle will visit the Drowned Lands when she’s in the Sectors.
    I flinch at a sudden pressure on my arm and turn back. Dr. Kanavan is twisting herself to the side to get a better angle on what’s hopefully the last vaccine. Her new position makes the green sequins shimmer. “Almost done,” she says. She wants to get back to her vacation daydreams and her television. She packs the vials back into the tray and returns them to the cabinet, on autopilot. While I wait, I draw circles in the air with my