Echoes from the Depths

The next morning, the atmosphere in the Fifth Caste was different. The usual hum of workers heading to the fields had been replaced by heated discussions about the Selection Process. Young people debated their chances with fear and hope, while the older ones shook their heads in disapproval, muttering that it was a complete waste of time.

Helena walked briskly through the streets, trying to avoid the conversations. The same thoughts from the previous night circled her mind. The promise of knowledge, the risk of death, her mother's enigmatic look—everything felt like a tangled mess.

Ethan was waiting for her on the way to the fields. He had a confident smile, but his eyes betrayed a certain uneasiness he was trying to hide.

"Have you decided yet?" he asked, crossing his arms.

Helena let out an irritated sigh, feeling on edge that morning, as though carrying a weight on her shoulders.

"No. And you?"

"If I don't try, I'll be stuck here forever," Ethan replied, shrugging. "You should think about that. You're the only person I've talked to who's still undecided, Helena. There's not much time left."

Helena looked at him, trying to gauge how much of his bravado was genuine. Ethan had always been a dreamer, but she knew he wasn't naïve. He understood the risks just as much as she did.

"Who have you talked to?" she asked.

"I've spoken to almost everyone from our basic education group—Alice, Claire, Eli, Michael, Ron... none of them even considered the risks. They're all joining the process."

"I hope they realize most won't make it," she said. "And those who do... no one ever hears from them again."

Ethan gave a half-smile. He seemed more self-assured that morning.

"Maybe that's better than staying here," he said. "I'm signing up today."

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Helena wanted to argue, but the words wouldn't come. There was a solid truth in what he'd said.

Later, when the workday ended, Helena returned home with a decision weighing on her mind—she needed to know more. Her mother had made it clear the night before that she had important information, but she'd been too evasive to share it without being pressed.

When she entered the house, she found Mira and Selene sitting at the table, talking quietly in the small living room. Selene held an embroidered piece of fabric but seemed more interested in the conversation with her daughter than in her handiwork.

"We need to talk," Helena said bluntly.

The two women looked at her, and Selene gave a cryptic smile.

"About the process?" Selene asked. "It seems you've made up your mind."

"About everything. And I'm here to listen, not to act." Helena pulled out a chair and sat across from her mother. "You said there were things I should know. Now I want to know."

Mira hesitated, but Selene was the first to speak.

"She deserves to know, Mira. Secrets only add unnecessary weight."

Mira let out a deep sigh, exhaustion evident in her posture.

"I tried, you know? The process," she said, addressing her daughter.

The confession hit Helena like a stone in her stomach. She remained silent, waiting for her mother to continue.

"It was over twenty years ago. I had just turned twenty and believed in the promises of the process. I was very different from you. I thought I could change our lives, maybe even help our caste. But the process..." Mira hesitated, as if the words were too painful to say. "The process isn't what it seems."

"What do you mean?" Helena asked, leaning forward.

"It's not about merit like they preach. It's not about who's the strongest, the smartest, or the most loyal. They choose people they've already planned to choose. The rest is just a show."

Her grandmother only nodded in agreement, her eyes glimmering with a mixture of sadness and indignation. Helena felt anger rise within her.

"Then why let everyone sign up?"

"To maintain control." Mira gave a bitter smile. "To make people believe they have a chance when, in reality, everything is already decided."

"And you? What happened?"

Mira hesitated again before answering, as if the memory were too painful.

"I was eliminated in the fourth stage," she said, averting her eyes. "I found out I was pregnant with you, and that disqualified me automatically."

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The revelation caught Helena off guard. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.

"Is that why you don't want me to participate? Because you're afraid I'll fail?"

"No," Mira looked her in the eyes. "I'm afraid you'll succeed."

Helena couldn't sleep that night. Her mother's and grandmother's words echoed in her mind, creating more questions than answers. If the process was rigged, what was its true purpose? Why all the annual commotion? Her mother and grandmother couldn't say, avoiding most of her questions by claiming there were things she needed to discover on her own.

When the clock struck midnight, Helena got out of bed. She wasn't an impulsive person, but she felt she needed to take action, even without knowing where it would lead.

She put on her coat, grabbed her identification documents, and quietly slipped out the back door. The streets were deserted, save for a few patrolling guards. She headed to the administrative center where registrations for the process were being held.

The registration office was small, lit by harsh white lights that made everything feel colder and more impersonal. A Third Caste clerk sat behind the counter, typing on a terminal.

"Name?" he asked without looking up.

Helena hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Helena Argos."

The man typed something into the system, glanced at her, then back at the screen, as if comparing her appearance to the photo on her ID displayed on the monitor.

"Fill this out and leave your fingerprint here," he said, handing her a form.

Helena took the form with trembling hands. As she filled out the fields, a mixture of fear and determination grew within her. When she finished, she placed her right index finger on the scanner, which emitted a small confirmation beep.

"It's done," the man said flatly. "You'll receive instructions in three days."

Helena left the building with her heart pounding. She knew her decision was risky, but she also knew she couldn't live with unanswered questions.

That night, as she walked home, she realized that for the first time, she wasn't just a worker of the Fifth Caste. She was a candidate for the process.

And for the first time, she wasn't ignoring the system.