Today’s the day. The day I say goodbye to my carefree do-nothing way of living and give a big ol’ hello to the rest of my life.

If fourteen seems too young to be given a life sentence to the same routine day-in and day-out, then you clearly don’t know a thing about Pioneer Group Beta II. Our little society has inhabited Planet 4502 for three generations.

From what we can gather, we’re the only group to have been remotely successful. The other three dozen Pioneer squads didn’t make it more than a few years.

I glance around at our small group of graduates, a whopping sixteen of us.

While it would seem that my odds would be good to get a good gig, that is not the case. My class is the largest in our short history. Usually only six or eight make it to Assignment Day.

Half of each graduating class gets assigned to Agriculture. No one wants that job. It’s all back-breaking labor and a promise of a shortened lifespan.

This planet may be suitable for human life, but that’s about it. The air is mildly toxic, and anyone who works an outdoor gig knows their life will be at least ten years shorter than the rest of us.

“Congratulations 3052 grads!” Says Poppy, our peppy Director of Education. “Now that you have entered into working age, it’s time to get you your gig assignments.”

A collective nervous silence emanates from our group. Poppy knows we all dread this day, at least she’s trying to make it exciting.

“As you know, your class is the most successful we have ever had in Planet 4502. A testament to our hard work and commitment. You will be joining these ranks to better our society, and improve the lives of generations to come.”

I glance at Travis, my best friend for as long as I remember. He gives me a reassuring look. He knows how nervous I am today. But anyone would be, if both your parents had died young in the Agriculture fields.

“Now, for you assignments. Our leaders carefully select a Gig for each of you. They look at your academic work, aptitude tests, and personality assessments to determine your best fit.”

I roll my eyes. That’s just straight bullshit. They play favorites here. Everyone knows it. And if you have family in certain Gigs, you’re way more likely to get into those. That’s why Travis is not worried at all. He comes from a long line of Engineers.

What I would give to be admitted to the Engineering Core.

Poppy begins by rattling off names and assignments. Theresa and Clara are going into Education; Oscar and Greta will be Medical; Mason, Bart, and Sally are assigned to Food Preparation; and so on.

“Mira,” I meet her gaze, “you have been selected to be President Farsi’s personal assistant.”

I stare at her , dumbfounded. The President’s personal assistant? It’s not the Gig I wanted, but at least it’s not in the fields.

That’s when I look over at Travis and realize his name wasn’t called for the Engineers. His face completely white. He’s been assigned an Agriculture Gig.