Omni: The Omni Duology, #1

By Andrea Murray

They will risk everything, even challenging the all-seeing eye of the Omni government. But will the prize be worth the cost?

Seventeen-year-old Pierce is a Drudge, the lowest social stratum in society. For over two years, he’s hoped—prayed—that his upcoming aptitude test will finally free him from his virtual slavery and give him a chance at a better existence. When he rescues Harmony, an Artist and member of the most successful stratum, his life takes an unbelievable twist. With his gallant act and good looks, he becomes a media sensation. Every stratum in society seeks his membership for their publicity, but as he becomes closer to Harmony, Pierce realizes what fame in Omni is truly like. His choices will not only affect him but Harmony as well.

The life Pierce thought he wanted may not be worth the cost to either of them.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Dragon Moon Press
• Release date: Jun 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781988256153

Andrea Murray

Andrea Murray doesn’t consider herself a writer. Instead, she thinks of herself as a teacher with a writing problem. Though she began writing as a kid, Andrea didn’t become serious about it until 2010 when a group of students inspired her to write her first novel. Before beginning her adventures in education, she was a part-time janitor, secretary, factory worker, cashier, and waitress (but only for three days).When not teaching junior high English, she writes editorial book reviews or reads historical and paranormal romances. Besides reading, she’s a television addict and devote WAY too many hours to it. Visit Andrea's website at http://byandreamurray.com/ on Twitter @byandreamurray or Facebook https://www.facebook.com/andreamurrayfanpage/

Book preview

Prologue

FLAMES LICKED DANGEROUSLY close to Pierce’s shoulder as he dragged an overturned chair into the fire’s path. Behind him the steel safety door slid closed, blocking his only escape. He kicked at the chair, hoping the blaze would choose leather and wood over flesh and bone as he crawled to the window overlooking the courtyard. Alarms screamed, and neon-green liquid squirted from hidden ceiling sprinklers. His bloody hand slipped the first time he tried to pull himself up to bang against the tempered glass he didn’t stand a chance of breaking.

Swiping at the liquid and sweat stinging his eyes as much as the smoke, he screamed, lifting his hand and slamming it down even though the street was empty of citizens at this hour. Leaning heavily against the unyielding glass while coughs wracked him, he tried to call out again, but the heat seared his lungs from the inside out.

In another fit of coughing, he slid back to the floor and glanced down at his bare, alcohol-soaked chest. It was pointless, all of it, the fame, the credits, Hale’s sacrifice.

Harmony’s face flashed into his mind. He had never told her he loved her. He’d tried to show her, but he should’ve said the words he’d thought nearly from the first moment, should’ve shouted them from the roof of this damn building. He loved her silky curls against his cheek and the way her blue eyes had stolen his soul that afternoon in the park. He loved the way she tried to protect her sister and how she’d fidget with her shirt when she was nervous. He loved every part of her. She had been his for a little while, and her face would be his last thought.

He smiled, closed his eyes, and waited for death.

Chapter One

WHAT IS THAT? Hale pointed at the dark spot on the front of Pierce’s black, government-issued regimental shirt. You know you can’t wear that, right?

Pierce glanced down and shrugged, It’s a grease stain, Hale. I don’t have another clean one. He sat down heavily on the edge of the twin-sized bed platform and pulled on the canvas shoes that had a hole worn in the toe. Besides we’re only working kitchen maintenance. No one will even see us but old Iron Fist, and he’s pissed at me already. Glancing in the wall mirror, Pierce ran a hand through his black hair, which stuck out riotously. Damn, I’ll have to spend some credits on a haircut soon before I get cited again.

Don’t underestimate Stern, and stop calling him Iron Fist, or you’ll end up saying it in front of him. Stern could be your ticket to something better. Hale creased his sheets and tucked his blanket into his own platform.

Pierce shook his head and snorted as he tossed his blanket across his platform, not bothering to see if it actually landed on the mattress or not. My ticket to what? Bartering vegetables? Hygienics? That’s every Drudge’s dream. Getting rid of trash.

Walking across the stark room, he unplugged his communicator and slipped it into the pouch sewn inside of his regimental shirt before flipping his platform up with a resounding bang against the wall. Snapping his fingers, he turned to his closest friend with a smirk. I know. I could barter on the forbidden market, trade illegal games and taboo fiction. He picked up Hale’s copy of The Grapes of Wrath from the floor and tossed it on Hale’s platform, ripping the already ragged cover a little more.

Hey! Take it easy. I just bartered for this one. Cost me a hundred credits, Hale clutched the paperback novel to his chest before laying it back down gently and folding up his own platform. Irritated, he checked his perfectly-styled, brown hair in the mirror before grabbing his assimilation badge and heading for the door.

Pierce sighed, and Hale stopped, his hand before the door swipe, I’m not like you. I’m not patient and cautious. I can’t stand feeling like I’m kissing Stern’s ass and begging for a handout. He huffed again in frustration. Just because the government says we’re Drudges doesn’t mean we have to be happy about it. Growing up in a system orphanage shouldn’t automatically put us in the lowest stratum. He ran his hands through his hair.

When Hale turned and pinned Pierce with a glare, his brown eyes lit with something Pierce rarely saw from his friend. I’m not kissing Stern’s ass or begging for anything. We don’t have a choice, anyway. What’re we supposed to do, run off to one of those Reconstruction colonies? Learn to live without electricity and running water? They’d probably find us and give us even worse assignments. He took a calming breath. In a few months we can both take our aptitude exams, whether they—he waved his hands vaguely indicating everyone who’d spit in their faces their entire lives—like it or not. They have to allow us to take it when we turn eighteen, and then our lives will actually start. Almost three years of Drudge work will finally be over. He gazed up as though he could see their futures written on the ceiling.

Pierce nodded, smiling for the first time since his communicator alarm went off an hour ago. No more overnights in the manufacturing center, no more month-long trips to the farmlands, and no more kitchen duty for rich, stuck-up jerks. He clapped Hale on the back and glanced down again at the stain on the front of his regimental. Pretty soon Stern will be slaving for us.

Hale smiled, swiped his hand across the sensor, and stepped out into the hallway. Pushing the elevator button, Pierce glanced toward the other ten doors on the floor, behind each an identical, barren cubicle like the one he and Hale had inhabited for nearly three years. The government-operated facility was filled with Drudges just like Hale and him, all teenagers waiting for a chance at something more.

He wasn’t a total idiot; he knew that all four strata were governmentally regulated, but the other three carried prestige, and with prestige came freedom—not true freedom like the freedom he’d read about in Hale’s taboo fiction, but the closest thing to it in Omni.

Since taking over the government nearly seventy years ago, the Omni party had firmly established his and every other person’s place. Being born to an unmarried couple without a procreation permit, Pierce was immediately placed in the system and, as a result, the lowest stratum, without a chance at the aptitude test until he became an adult. He was deemed Drudge, the working-class stratum, as far away from Artist, the entertainment-class and highest stratum, as he could possibly get. Not that he thought he’d ever become an Artist. He wasn’t that deluded. He’d never be able to paint, create music, or act; at least he didn’t think he would, though in truth he’d never had the chance to try. He might have the physical strength to play in the OFL or the OBA, but he’d only played sports with Hale and a few of the other strays in the Dependent Childcare System.

He hadn’t told Hale, but his greatest fear was that he wouldn’t perform well on his aptitude exam, and he’d be stuck forever cleaning up after other people, waiting on other people. No qualifying score meant no chance of a better life. He’d be forced into a consort with some Drudge girl whether he wanted to or not, so they could procreate and make more Drudges. Being a Drudge meant nearly complete Omni control. They’d tell him where to work, what to do, and who to marry.

So, you want orange or apple? Hale asked, holding up two juice pouches he’d grabbed on their way out of the building lobby.

Pierce cocked one eyebrow. Orange. He snatched the pouch from Hale’s hand. Why do you bother asking? It’s been the same choice for almost three years.

Hale shrugged. Never know. You might change your mind someday. He smiled and started down the street toward their job assignment for the day.

Hale would make a great Healer. He cared about other people, and Pierce assumed he was smart enough considering he spent every spare credit on books. Though orphans received only the basic, free education provided in Omni, Hale had never let that stop him from learning everything he possibly could, and Pierce could see Hale rushing in to save some guy who was having a heart attack while he sat at a traffic light or performing surgery on some super-important citizen. Soon they would know.

There she is! Hale stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, gaining more than a few scowls from the surrounding crowd.

Hey! Watch it! Pierce yelled as a man in a red Healer regimental shoulder bumped him. Who? Pierce asked, turning to Hale.

Amena, Hale lifted his chin in the direction of a redhead in a green regimental, sitting at an outside café scrolling on her communicator. I told you about her.

Pierce followed his gaze. Let’s talk to her. But before he could take a step, Hale grabbed his arm.

Are you crazy? I can’t just walk up to her and … and …

Pierce laughed. And what, Hale? Say hi to her? He shook his head. Just because she’s a Geek and you’re a Drudge doesn’t mean you can’t talk to her. How do you even know her name?

I asked around, and that’s easy for you to say. Girls of all strata practically drop their regi when you walk by. He shook his head. No, not until after the test, and if I don’t test out at Geek stratum, I’ll never have a chance anyway. You know you can’t consort outside of your stratum.

Who’s talking about consorting? I’m not saying throw her on the table and procreate. Just introduce yourself. It’s not illegal, talking to a girl. You don’t need a permit for that, Hale. Pierce yanked him toward the table.

Hale sighed again and dug in his heels. No, let’s go. I don’t want to be late again. He tugged Pierce past the café table. When the girl looked up and smiled at Pierce, he gave a little wave. She was cute, and she was obviously smart, or she wouldn’t be a Geek. Only the most intelligent were selected for the technology stratum. If Hale tested high enough, maybe he would have the confidence and the right to date her.

The glassy front of the Palace Center glinted in the sun as the boys approached it. The Palace was the city’s hottest spot. People from all strata gathered there for the biggest events, and today’s gala definitely qualified. A sizable crowd of citizens and reporters lined the red-carpeted walkway into the building. An excited buzz rippled through them.

A doorman in a black regimental more decorative than theirs turned from the reporter and cameraman who’d just finished interviewing him. The smile on his face vanished faster than the tip he’d hoped to receive.

Oh, it’s you two. I’d hoped Stern would have rejected your service commands, the older man said. Around back with the other Drudges. He hooked his thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward the side of the building.

Uh, hello, you’re a Drudge, too, pal. Pierce stepped closer to the man.

The man snorted. Not like you, stray.

Hale grabbed Pierce’s shoulder. Not much longer.

Pierce silently hoped he was right.

Chapter Two

"IT’S TOO TIGHT, CAPRICE. You can’t wear that. Harmony pointed to her twin sister’s newest purchase. You’re still a minor, remember? Do you want to get your privilege revoked again?"

Caprice twirled before the floor-length mirror. The tight, purple satin clung to her like a second skin. But Artist Tawdry designed it just for me, she whined. Axis will love it! She smoothed her hands over her hips suggestively then ran her fingers along the plunging neckline.

Yeah, I’m sure he will, Harmony murmured, abandoning her effort to preserve what little was left of her sister’s modesty and her chance to use the mirror in their joint dressing cubicle. She walked toward her cubicle, twice as large as it had been a year ago since her recent films, and checked her appearance in the smaller wall mirror hanging beside her bed platform. Though she and Caprice were similar in looks, they weren’t identical, the differences more about attitude and less about genetics.

It’s perfect. Even you have to admit that, Caprice called from the dressing cubicle. Harmony sighed as she touched the pale-pink chiffon of her gown. Compared to her sister’s, Harmony’s dress was downright matronly. Caprice wanted attention more than she wanted to breathe. Maybe that’s why she was constantly trying to shock with her dress and behavior. She flirted mercilessly, snubbed people at every turn, and hated the rules that pinned her down, making her hard to work with. But her film appearances smoldered, and as forward-thinking as Omni society was, sex still sold. As long as Caprice remained the fresh meat on the market, she’d stay on top, but as soon as a spicier dish scandalized the audiences, her career would be over.

Caprice stuck her head in the door of Harmony’s room. We can’t all get the leading roles. Some of us have to rely on other methods, sister.

That’s not fair. You refused to even read for a part in this new movie after Galvan worked so hard to get us a meeting with the director.

Please. Caprice flipped her hair and returned to her mirror. That’s been Galvan’s job since we were ten, and why would I want to work that hard? I don’t care about being some award-winning Artist. She shuddered slightly. Way too much effort.

It isn’t bad to want to create something lasting, you know? You make it sound so terrible.

You’ve been working like a Drudge since we were fifteen, two years of constant training. You never have any fun, and you act like an old woman. Caprice met Harmony’s eyes in the mirror as she stepped into the dressing cubicle again. She shook her head and held up her hand. And before you even start, I know you like privacy. I’ve heard it a million times, but that’s not part of the deal—not even for you.

Harmony absently ran the expensive fabric through her fingers. She wondered guiltily if she or Omni had created this misplaced hunger in her sister. Though Harmony wasn’t the attention hog Caprice was, she craved achievement and hated that it was piggy-backed with fame. If she could perform and exist anonymously, she would, but the government would never allow that. If she wanted to continue to act, she would have to continue playing her role for Omni as well. She was a civic asset, a pawn, and the more fame she earned, the needier Caprice became.

When the door sensor beeped, Caprice jumped up and answered it. A wide-eyed girl in a blue regimental gripped the handles of a black bag. Finally! I thought you’d never get here. I want to be fashionably late, but I’ll have your job if we miss the reporters!

Harmony rolled her eyes as she went to the rescue of the lower-level Artist who had the misfortune to be assigned to their embellishment duty today. Their usual girl had been promoted to Superior Artist and would only be supervising under-Artists now. She hoped this new girl could withstand her sister’s manic moods and outrageous demands.

Did you bring the purple flowers I told you to bring? Caprice rifled through the Artist’s bag as soon as she set it on the table. She yanked out several clear boxes, her face screwed up as though she’d just smelled the hygienic truck passing. This is what you brought? Roses, lilies, and … I don’t even know what this is. Orchids! I said orchids—purple, white, pink with purple centers—that’s what I said! Something exotic and memorable. The only thing memorable about these—Caprice threw the boxes at the quaking Artist—will be a reminder of your last day as an Artist and your first day as a Drudge!

I, I’m sorry, Artist Caprice. It was such short notice, and I couldn’t get— She twisted her shirt front.

Caprice threw up her hands and flopped into the chair before the lighted vanity. She tossed her honey hair over her shoulder. Just get started. We’ll make do with those. She pointed at the hair pins glittering among the bottles and creams atop the vanity’s reflective surface.

The Artist pulled out the tools of her trade, the makeup and spray bottles specifically created for the sisters. Harmony moved a chair beside Caprice and picked up a makeup compact.

Caprice rolled her eyes. Really? Can’t you just be a normal celebrity one time and let her do your embellishment? She flipped her gaze toward the girl. Even as incompetent as she is, she’s had formal training.

Harmony pinched her sister’s arm.

Hey! You’ll bruise me! Caprice rubbed the spot and scowled.

"Well, at least it will be purple. Harmony stuck out her tongue. Stop being so unpleasant—to both of us." The Artist dropped her head, trying to hide her smile behind her curling wand, and slid a look of gratitude in Harmony’s direction. Ignoring her sister’s complaining, Harmony dabbed at her cheeks with the makeup.

When the Artist finished Caprice’s hair and face, she turned to Harmony. Would you like me to... She motioned with the wand toward Harmony’s white-blonde hair. Harmony nodded.

Make sure you don’t pin hers like mine. I don’t want people confusing us. Caprice smeared another layer of gloss to her already glistening lips.

As if they ever would, Harmony thought. I’m wearing mine down, Caprice. Don’t sweat yourself.

Your dress is lovely. It must be so wonderful to wear a color besides blue. The girl’s voice was barely above a whisper. Her touch was so light that Harmony hardly felt it brush the narrow strap on her shoulder. So pretty.

Harmony turned in her chair to thank the girl, but Caprice interrupted her, It is, not that you’ll ever really know, but at least you never have to worry about what to wear. She shrugged.

Harmony cringed inwardly. Regimentals were meant to promote equality and clarify citizens’ roles in Omni, but high-profile citizens, Omni officials and Artists, mostly, but some superiors in other strata also, were granted permission to wear non-regimentals. Harmony had always thought it seemed a little unfair.

As a means of control, that privilege was sometimes revoked, causing public humiliation. Caprice had already experienced that shame game when she’d refused her stylist’s advice and worn a very short, very tight dress to a government event promoting family entertainment and was forced to wear the standard blue regimental of the Artist stratum. She’d spent those two weeks studying at an exclusive acting school, or that’s what she told her followers. Harmony knew she’d been hiding at a spa from the prying eyes of her fans.

When the door slid open again, Harmony was slipping on the silver heels her stylist had selected for her. She took one last look in the mirror and shook her head, flicking the flowing skirt with her hand. She hated playing dress up for the government, but she had to continue the game.

Expecting to see Superior Artist Galvan, Harmony stood open-mouthed when Axis and his brother Malice filled the doorway.

Axis! Caprice squealed, launching herself at the hulking boy. I didn’t think I’d see you until later at the event! She pressed her body against his before kissing him fiercely.

Harmony’s cheeks burned with embarrassment while Malice’s intense stare seemed to scorch a hole through her. Caprice had failed to mention she’d set the door to automatically open for Axis’s assimilation badge. They would definitely be discussing that decision later.

Malice and Axis were football players for the OFL. The brothers were invaluable members of the Spartans, the most popular team in the nation. As physical Artists, the brothers had more leeway than most citizens of Omni. Physical Artists provided the