Gwendolyn stood outside a wrought iron fence, one perfectly polite policeman at her side. As though she were some sort of criminal. She stared at a two-story brick of a building, at the narrow windows that seemed to be squinting at her in suspicion. At the top of the black gates, words were written in black bars: The Home for Unclaimed Children.

 

A slight breeze chilled her scalp, as they had not let her take any of her hats. Or any of her clothes at all, save for the violet dress she had been wearing, and it was a touch too cold for the thin fabric and short sleeves.

 

She had been permitted one last night in her own bed, though the policeman never left the apartment. Miss Sahida had stayed as well, right until they carted her off. The gloom had settled so thick on Gwendolyn’s shoulders that she hadn’t even resisted.

 

Miss Sahida had insisted that Gwendolyn be allowed to pack her satchel, with her copies of Kolonius Thrash and the Perilous Pirates, The Annals of the Fae, and her notebook. Although the police had not permitted her any of her pencils.

 

The doors of the Home opened. A woman emerged, and strode purposefully toward the gates. She did not open them, but spoke through the bars.

 

“Is this the one?” she said. She was clad all in grey tweed, with a silk ribbon round her throat like a choker, and she peered at Gwendolyn over a pair of cat’s-eye glasses that perched on her nose. She was thin as a rapier, her features sharp as glass, and her voice was hard as granite. Despite all that, Gwendolyn had to admit that she was quite stunning, with raven black hair, full lips, and a complexion like cool milk.

 

The policeman immediately removed his hat. “Yes, this is her. Been on her own for quite a while now, but here she is, Ms. Childkeeper, ma’am.”

 

“And her assets?”

 

“What, the apartment and all that? Nicely taken care of, and at your disposal. All her things have been transferred to you and the Home.”

 

The Childkeeper nodded and smiled prettily. “Very good. Thank you, officer. You’re a credit to our City.”

 

The man grinned and fidgeted. “Just doing my job, ma’am. And you as well. Might I say, you’re a darn sight prettier than the old Childkeeper. Things have been runnin’ much smoother on your watch the past couple a’ years.”

 

The woman inclined her head. “Indeed. Now, if you don’t mind, the girl must be made suitable. We’d hate for her to burden you any longer.”

 

“Oh, she’s no burden at all,” he said. “Her place is on my beat, and she’s always seemed like a nice young thing. Thought it was only right to look after her m’self.” He looked down at Gwendolyn and smiled, but Gwendolyn was in no mood for smiling and glared at him with every intention of disintegrating him on the spot with the heat of her gaze. But the policeman only flinched a little.

 

The Childkeeper pursed her lips. “Hmmm. Nice. I always say, nice is one thing. Useful is better. We’ll do our best to make her into something productive.” She opened the gates. As the policeman stepped inside, she put a hand on his shoulder. “And thank you again, officer. I can take her from here.”

 

The policeman blushed. He gave Gwendolyn an almost pitying glance, then left.

 

The Childkeeper knelt down to Gwendolyn’s level. “Hello. I am the Childkeeper. I would say that it is nice to meet you, but I’m afraid I don’t much care for orphans.”

 

Gwendolyn opened her mouth to correct her, but the Childkeeper put a finger against Gwendolyn’s lips. “Don’t trouble yourself. There will be no need for you to speak. I’ve been told all about your situation. I respect your commitment to remaining a contributing member of society, even in the face of your loss. Few children make such good use of themselves. Still, we have rules, and children must always follow the rules.” The Childkeeper stood, headed up the walk, and flung open the double doors.

 

Inside, Gwendolyn found herself at the head of a single enormous room. Long tables ran down the center, and several dozen children sat at them. Each was dressed in a uniform shade of grey, the boys in slacks and shirts buttoned up to the neck, the girls all in dresses with a sash and bow at their waist.

 

There was a bowl of porridge in front of each one, and the very first thing Gwendolyn noticed was the way they ate. They dipped their spoons and brought them to their mouths in perfect unison, the sound of spoons on bowls making a dreadful rhythm, like the relentless drumbeat on a ship of enslaved rowers.

 

The Childkeeper clapped twice. The children turned to face the door in unsettling unison. “Children,” the Childkeeper called, though she hardly raised her voice. “Welcome our freshest unfortunate. She’s come to stay with us.”

 

The Childkeeper clapped again, and the children stood with one great screech of benches being pushed back. Music came from somewhere, rhythmic pounding chords from what sounded like a piano, and perhaps an accordion, though Gwendolyn could see no such instruments.

 

And then, all the children began to sing.

 

 

Welcome to the home for those like you.

 

Worthless Retches finally put to use.

 

 

It was a dreary song, nearly a funeral march. They banged their spoons and bowls to the beat.

 

Gwendolyn was speechless.

 

 

Here in the Childkeeper’s Care

 

We learn that life can be fair.

 

If you look to your work

 

and you don’t ask questions.

 

 

In what was clearly a choreographed routine, the students began passing bowls to the left and right, sliding them across the table, all in time with the rhythm of the music.

 

Gwendolyn finally found her own voice. “Why are they all singing?”

 

The Childkeeper surveyed her charges with obvious pride. “Because this is a happy place. And happy children sing.”

 

Which did not reassure Gwendolyn in the slightest.

 

The children rose from the long benches and began to dance. Some twirled around the floor, others stood on the benches and tables, stomping and jumping to the relentless beat of the song.

 

 

We’re happy, healthy, well-adjusted youth.

 

We labor daily like good workers do.

 

And when we come of age

 

We won’t be such a drain

 

We’ll be Cityzens who

 

can be pro-duc-tive.

 

 

“Don’t worry, you’ll catch on soon. Although they do seem rather excited today…”

 

If any of the children were excited, Gwendolyn certainly couldn’t tell, despite all the singing and dancing.

 

“They don’t get much chance to sing this particular song. It is so rare that we receive new arrivals.”

 

“But where is the music coming from?”

 

The Childkeeper waved dismissively. “We have no time for frivolous questions. You must be acclimated.”

 

Before Gwendolyn could respond to that rather unsettling statement, a group of children pirouetted up to her. They grabbed at her satchel. Gwendolyn tried to resist, but there were too many of them. They snatched it away, and tossed it into the dancing crowd, where it quickly disappeared.

 

Then they grabbed her by the arms, and pulled her through the chorus of dancers to a smaller room off to the side, a sort of large closet. The three girls pulled various dresses from cabinets, dancing around the room with them. They spun Gwendolyn in circles, holding up each dress in turn to see what would fit.

 

 

You will become just like one of us.

 

Proper clothing simply is a must.

 

 

A dress was selected and Gwendolyn was pushed behind a screen, then rather roughly helped to undress. She tried to protest, but lost her breath as the bow was cinched tightly around her waist.

 

 

If we are seen by the rest

 

The Cityzens are distressed

 

So inconspicuous dress

 

keeps us unnoticed.

​

 

The children marched her of the dormitory and back to the central dining room. Which was no longer a dining room at all. The tables and benches had been pushed against the walls. The Childkeeper stood in a wide central aisle, tapping her foot in time to the relentless rhythm of the song.

 

 

Learning keeps us always occupied

 

Training, taming, all our restless minds.

 

 

Beside her was a Central gentleman in a black suit who gave off a sense of power and authority the way a radiator gives off heat. He eyed the orphans with approval as they danced around the adults and took their seats.

 

 

The Home turns us all into

 

Workers ready to do

 

Whatever it takes to improve

 

our kind City.

 

Our great City.

 

 

With one last, long, mournful note, the children sat. There was a rustle of skirts, the screech of benches, and all was silent. The girls stared across the central aisle at the boys, all arranged in neat and quiet rows.

 

The Childkeeper inspected her charges. “Very good. As everyone knows, all orphans sing and dance. Your pathetic situation in life makes those who look upon you sad, so it is important to put on a positive attitude to cheer up any visitors, a service to the City that so kindly takes you in at other’s expense. Now that our newest unfortunate has been properly acclimated, let us begin our lessons.”

 

Back and forth the Childkeeper walked, looking over the children but never truly looking at them. “We have a visitor this morning. I would like to introduce you to Mr. Pump, head of the City Council. He has taken valuable time out of his day to come speak to us on pressing matters. Please do not disturb him.” She turned to Mr. Pump with a beaming smile.

 

Mr. Pump coughed and adjusted his thin tie. “Ahem. Yes. You are most welcome, Ms.… erm, Ms. Childkeeper.”

 

The Childkeeper giggled. Several children gasped in shock. “Please. Call me Charlotte.”

 

Mr. Pump coughed again, his confidence tempered with a hint of bashfulness. “Charlotte, then. I assure you; it is entirely my pleasure.” He pushed his horn-rimmed spectacles further up his nose and straightened.

 

“I will be blunt. New developments are at hand. Resources are quite scarce since the Change. The factories on the Edge that have been producing our food, and water, and clean air are running down. Food shortages are occurring. Power shortages as well. Your wonderful caretaker has presented the City Council with a marvelous opportunity for you all to be of use.” He smiled at the. “You should be very grateful for her.”

 

The Childkeeper put a hand to her throat and waved dismissively with the other. “Oh, do stop, Mr. Pump. You are too kind.” Then she turned to the children with her usual business-like demeanor. “You will be used to boost the power of these factories to maximum efficiency again. Isn’t that exciting?”

 

“Hardly,” Gwendolyn grumbled. The girl next to her turned and shushed.

 

The Childkeeper paced the aisle, heels clicking on the polished floor. “You know that as orphans, you are of no worth to the City. You will now have the chance to prove that you can be more than a drain on society’s resources.”

 

Gwendolyn scowled. “Horrible woman.”

 

She was shushed again, this time from both sides.

 

Mr. Pump cleared his throat. “The Change has wreaked havoc on the Cityzens. Our normal way of life has been shattered. Misinformation is being spread through the Lambents—wild stories that defy logic or sense. Even vicious deceptions about our own City. There is some poppycock about a wasteland beyond our borders. Rumors of some tremendous war.”

 

“Lies, of course,” said the Childkeeper. “The City is the way it has always been.”

 

Gwendolyn stood up. “That’s not true!”

 

Every eye turned toward her. Mr. Pump was taken aback. The Childkeeper stopped pacing and pivoted. The eyes behind those cat-eye glasses glittered, though her expression was kind and patient.

 

“Sit down, child.”

 

“I’m not ‘child.’ My name is Gwendolyn! And you’re the ones who are lying!”

 

The Childkeeper’s tone was gentle, but firm. “You insult our guest. Please, sit down.”

 

“No!” Gwendolyn was building up steam. “The Change has been wonderful. We have stories, ideas, and imagination! Our world is full of color! Even the sun has started to come out, and people are happier—”

 

The Childkeeper nodded, and an older girl on the bench in front of Gwendolyn turned and smacked her on the hand with a short wooden stick.

 

“Ow!” Gwendolyn cried. Her knuckles stung. The girls on either side put a hand on her shoulders and shoved her down onto the bench.

 

“Please continue, Mr. Pump.” The Childkeeper rested a delicate hand on his shoulder. “I know the sight of these orphans is quite distressing. I shall keep them as pleasant as possible, to alleviate any discomfort.”

 

Gwendolyn tried to stand, but the other girls held her down, and the older girl smacked her across the knuckles again.

 

Gwendolyn glared at the girl and rubbed her hand, but this time she stayed put, forced to listen as Mr. Pump and the Childkeeper continued to lecture them.

 

As much as Gwendolyn hated to admit it, she wondered if Mister Zero had been right when he said the loss of the Lambents would hurt the City. He claimed to have been using their power to keep things running smoothly. Had the Change been a terrible mistake? The idea gnawed at Gwendolyn’s insides, and she shoved it down where she wouldn’t have to think about it.

 

Which was easier to do as her rumbling stomach distracted her. The lecture on he City’s “values” dragged on through what should have been lunchtime, but there was no stopping to eat. Gwendolyn hadn’t had breakfast, and had eaten only a single bite of pomegranate for dinner the previous night.

 

Eventually Mr. Pump took a seat to observe the Childkeeper at work, and the lessons shifted to maths. The students were forced to stand and recite sums and multiples. Then they recited philosophy, extolling the virtues of tradition and consistency by rote memorization.

 

Gwendolyn lost track of it all, drifting in a dreary haze. She did not even have her usual imaginings to comfort her. The dreariness and droning made her too drowsy for daydreams, and she didn’t have any ideas anyway.

 

Endless hours later, Gwendolyn was shaken from her stupor by the sudden silence in the hall as the final recitation ended. The Childkeeper tucked her arm into the crook of Mr. Pump’s own and walked him toward the door. “Mr. Pump. I have additional plans, if you’d like to hear them. Working with these children has given me much experience in the cleansing of contaminating ideas.”

 

He patted her arm with his free hand. “I would be absolutely delighted to have the pleasure of your company once more, Miss, err, Charlotte. And might I say, what lovely company it is.”

 

The Childkeeper giggled again. “Oh, Mr. Pump, you are too much. I can see why such a charming man has gained control of the council.” She opened the door, led him out, then closed it behind them.

 

There was a whirl of activity, and the benches and tables were rearranged for mealtime. Several children disappeared into what must have been a kitchen, for they soon emerged with bowls and spoons. The girls sat on one side of the table, the boys on the other, and the bowls were plunked down in front of them. The children all ate in unison again, spoons scraping bowls in the same relentless rhythm.

 

Gwendolyn’s stomach clamored at her to join in, until she looked down at the grey goo in front of her. She poked it with her spoon. It jiggled.

 

She and her appetite struck a hasty truce, and it retreated.

 

“This is disgusting. Even for the City. What is this?” she whispered to the girl next to her.

 

“Nutrient glue. The most efficient delivery of all essential calories and nutrients. They wouldn’t waste valuable food on the likes of us.” Then she smacked Gwendolyn’s hand with her spoon. “Now be quiet, new girl.”

 

“Fine,” Gwendolyn scowled, rubbing her hand and wiping grey goop on her dress. “Not exactly friendly, around here, are you?” She looked around at the others, and moved her spoon up and down without actually eating any of the disgusting slop.

 

But disgusting as it was, she hadn’t had to cook it herself. She hadn’t planned the meal, hadn’t done the shopping, hadn’t had to think at all. She had simply been taken care of. And that was a very tempting feeling indeed, one with hints of home and cozy and safe. She could just be a child again, if she wanted, and undo all the growing up she had never wanted to do. All she had to do was stop struggling and let it happen. It would almost be easy.

 

These thoughts were interrupted when she noticed the boy sitting across from her. Gwendolyn Gray was a clever noticer, and she realized with a shock that she recognized him.

 

“Bill!”