The Killing Jar by RS McCoy

a little tight, but otherwise it was comfortable enough.
    Theo tucked his wristlet under the suit where he could wear it inconspicuously. He didn’t want to explain why he wouldn’t let it be burned along with the rest of his things.
    One by one, they emerged from the changing rooms in their identical suits. “All right, this way,” Barron led them further down the hall. Theo felt like a cow headed for slaughter.
    The next room held eight Craftsmen, each standing behind a slim cosmetology chair. “Go on and have a seat.” Theo and his fellow Scholars each sat, Theo more despondent than the others. He had thoroughly enjoyed his shoulder-length hair, and while he had known he would be required to remove it after his Selection, it made the transition no less difficult.
    He was supposed to be here with Nate. They had talked countless times about cutting their hair today, in this moment, only Nate wasn’t here. Theo felt the first shards of abandonment.
    Without a word, the young Craftsman behind the chair took clippers to his head and shaved it clean. His dark locks cascaded to the floor. When she offered him a mirror, Theo hardly recognized his reflection.
    His head was smooth, the skin on top lighter than that on his face. His features stood out vividly, his grey eyes like pools.
    It was done.
    Theo pushed away from the chair and found his position against the wall to wait for the others.
    “Hey, looks good,” Isaac offered when he too was shaved clean.
    “Thanks, you too,” Theo replied, though he didn’t mean it. Isaac looked like an infant. Theo wondered if he looked that bad as well.
    “When do you think we get to go back to Lanc Central? I have all my stuff in a locker. My tablet, my pod keys.”
    “I’m not sure.”
    Soon enough, the eight males were brought to a small auditorium to wait, though they were never told why. An hour later, the five females entered, each with uniform straight hair pulled back in a bun.
    Theo would have expected to see fallen features, but none of them seemed all that affected by the change in appearance. Then again, they had all chosen this life.
    Dr. Winters arrived behind them and took her position at the front of the room to begin the standard address. She was tall and slender, her nose pointed as was her chin. Behind her, the Scholar logo hovered via holographic projection.
    “Today, you have all made the honorable decision to join the elite class of Scholars. In a few minutes, you will be escorted to your barracks where you will live until such time as you have secured a mentor.”
    The holograph changed to show a spreadsheet of names. “Once in your barracks, you will be assigned a tablet. You will be given six months to identify an area of interest. Then you will be eligible to apply for a mentor. You have one year to secure a mentor or you will be released from the Scholar class.” The already quiet room fell silent, as if the entire group stopped breathing. They had all known what was at stake, but now that they were here, it felt more real.
    “With the guidance of your mentor, you will complete five years of study before you can apply to the Scholar Committee to perform your own research. Once approved, you will be eligible to apply for grants to fund your research. If you fail to secure funding, you will be released.”
    Theo swallowed hard. Was he capable of all that?
    Oblivious to her intimidated audience, Dr. Winters continued. “Upon completion of your third year in the Scholar Academy, you will be invited to apply for marriage. The Scholar Committee will determine the likelihood of your success based on genetic compatibility. The state of your research and funding will dictate the timeline upon which you will be allowed to apply for Child Permits.”
    Of all the rules and regulations of the Scholar class, Theo’s future children were the only facet that genuinely interested him. The marriage he knew would be dry, like his parents rather than Nate and Casey.