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“The recorder’s on. Go ahead and read what’s on the card.” Mr. Newman had a soft voice and it sounded creepy, not like Dad’s or Grandpa’s.

“My name is José Raymond Phillips. I’m ten years old. My family has been assigned to Zone 7: Jordanville in upstate New York. How am I doing, Mr. Newman?”

“Just fine, but keep to the script. Its just for your records.”

“Okay. Well, anyway…I live in Zone 7 on the Jordanville farm with other families. We are happy here and enjoy the work and the outdoors. My Dad let me drive the tractor for the first…”

“That’s not in the script, José.”

“Sorry, I just got excited.”

“I’m turning off the recorder. Take a few minutes to compose yourself. Then we’ll try again.”

“Why do I have to make this recording?”

“It’s for your official records.”

“You mean like school records?”

Newman chuckled in a way that was scary. “No, not exactly. We just want to show people that you like being in a zone and that you are happy. You’re happy, aren’t you?”

“I guess so. I mean, I’ve always wanted to live on a farm. I didn’t know they even existed anymore. Just the big, corporate farms run by…”

“That’s different, José. The families living in Zone 7 get to keep all the food you grow. None of it will be sold outside Zone.”

“You should visit us sometimes, Mr. Newman. The food is really great. Mom’s Abuela says it’s really healthy and it tastes a lot better than…” José noticed the expression change on Newman’s face. “I guess that’s not something for the recording either.”

“No, son. It’s not.” Mr. Newman sounded mad but like he was holding it in. “Maybe you’re not in the right mood to make the recording today. I’ll speak with your parents. They can have a talk with you, let you know how important this is.”

“Does that mean I can go now?” José didn’t want to make the recording. He was only doing this because Mom and Dad said he had to. They acted scared of Mr. Newman. When the grownups didn’t think he was listening, they said bad things, not only about Mr. Newman, but the others in “the World,” where all the regular people lived.

“Yes, I think so.”

José heard a big metal clank behind him. That meant the door was unlocked. The person in the Hazmat suit would take him back to his Zone. Mr. Newman only saw José from behind a big glass wall.

“Thanks. Good-bye, Mr. Newman.” José pushed his chair from the gray, lifeless desk and spun around. The “attendant” (they didn’t like it when you called them “guards” or “soldiers”) had already opened the door. They (José couldn’t tell if they were male, female, or something else because of the suit) looked like a big bug.

“This way, José,” the bug said.

José trotted down the corridor ahead of the attendant. They would go through an airlock and then into the land car which would take him back to the zone.

Mom and Dad tried to explain to him why they were now “Zonies” and had to stay in Zone forever, away from normal people. He didn’t get it. His family and everyone else in the Zone were the most normal people he’d ever met. He even got to have a dog. His sisters loved taking care of the horses. It was a lot better than being bullied and called bad names by regular people.

“In you go, kid,” said the bug.

“Thanks.” José slid across the bench seat to the other side of the car. He tried to be nice to everyone, even though he knew Mr. Newman, the bug, and everyone else from the government didn’t like him…didn’t like any of the people they put in Zones.

The bug got in and did something with a remote. The car started moving. It knew where to go because of its programming.

José kind of missed computers, cell phones, and the internet, but there was plenty to do on the farm and they had a lot of cool, old books to read. Grandpa brought a stash of illegal (they were illegal on the outside) discs with great TV shows and movies from when he was little.

He didn’t miss having to put on a dress, dye his hair, and say he was “non-conforming” to “fit in” with the normals. He didn’t miss being called a “freak” or some sort of “phobic” either, whatever that meant.

José was glad to be a boy, to have Mom, Dad, his sisters (although his sisters could be a pain sometimes), everyone in his family, his friends, and his dog. It was the best life ever.

Abuela once told him something but said he couldn’t tell it to Mom or Dad. She said the government was punishing them for being “regular folks.” That was definitely something Mr. Newman wouldn’t like on the recording.

It didn’t feel like punishment. José felt he could be his real self for the first time in his life. He didn’t care if he never ever left the Zone.

I wrote this for the #SciFiFri (optional theme “Zone”) open call. For inspiration, I used this week’s photo from Rochelle Wisoff-Field’s Friday Fictioneers challenge.

I’m not quite sure why I wrote the story the way I did, except that sometimes I feel like my grandchildren are growing up in a world so much stranger and macabre than I could ever have imagined when I was a kid in the 1960s.