Incubation (The Incubation Trilogy Book 1) by Laura Disilverio Page B

responses, to examine all the data and draw proper conclusions. You were different from your peers from the start. Where they saw what , you wanted to know how . You were worth my time.”
    I’m too gobsmacked by his news to appreciate his backhanded compliments.
    “So you need to put this behind you. Don’t waste effort trying to track down your biological parents, or worry about who they are, or were.” He dismisses my parents with a wave of one gnarled hand. “Clearly, they were highly intelligent people and probably attractive, because you’re not ill-looking. Your genetic legacy is the same whether you know their names or not, so let’s move on, hm? You can’t let this distract you from what’s really important.”
    He doesn’t need to spell out what’s really important: the work we do in the lab, trying to improve food production techniques and defeat the super locust. Nothing matters but the work, serving Amerada. Well, not today. I turn on my heel and stride away, not even bothering to make up an excuse. Anger seeps into the layers of confusion and disappointment gripping me. I become conscious of pain; I’ve been clenching my fists so hard my nails have left deep half-moons on my palms. I flex my fingers.
    I can’t sneak away to the beach now, so I return to the Kube proper, leaving the dome behind. My boots slap on the floor and an oncoming line of eight-year-olds falters when I pass. One thought blazes in my mind: they have lied to me. All my life I’ve been promised a reunion with my parents if I behave, study hard, contribute to the Kube and Amerada. Well, I’ve done all that and now the prize I’ve been promised—family—is wrenched away. Maybe it never even existed. I know who to blame.
     

Chapter Six
    In the Supervising Proctor’s office, I don’t even slow down for the aide. He’s only half way to his feet when I blast past.
    “You can’t—” he starts. He squawks as I bang open Proctor Fonner’s door. I slam it behind me, cutting off the aide’s gobblings.
    Proctor Fonner displays no surprise at my entrance and that takes a little of the wind out of my sails. I halt three steps inside the door. He looks up from the screen he’s reading from, taps it closed, and raises his thin, dark brows a hair. “AC Jax. Apparently we need to re-work our etiquette curriculum.”
    The words are calm and measured, and in that instant I know he knows exactly why I’m here. He’s been expecting me all day. His flip comment about manners enrages me further and I’m suddenly at his desk, palms flat on the polished surface, leaning forward. This close I can see the fine lines mapping his skin, a hint of chapping on his thin lips. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why did you let me think—?”
    He doesn’t try to make out like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. “I can see you’re disappointed by the outcome of your Reunion Day, Jax. I don’t altogether blame you.” He steeples his fingers and leans back, large head heavy on his thin neck.
    “You lied to me!” I slap a hand on his desk and my palm stings.
    He doesn’t flinch. “As with all decisions related to the upbringing and training of apprentice citizens, we did what we thought was in the best interest of the state and the apprentice.”
    “What the hell does that mean?”
    “It means,” he continues with the same calm tone, “that we decided it would only unsettle you to know that your arrival here was in any way different from your peers’. We wanted you to fit in, to bond with the other apprentices; in short, we didn’t want you distracted or distressed by the knowledge that your parents—”
    “Didn’t want me.”
    “—chose, due to circumstances we cannot evaluate, to provide you with a safe life, a good life, by leaving you at this Kube.”
    His unceasing calm inflames me. “You let me sit in that room all morning, hoping they would come!”
    “I couldn’t know for sure that no one would come. I was hoping