Limbo (The Last Humans Book 2) by Anna Zaires, Dima Zales

swiftly to keep up with probably-Jeremiah’s angry gait.
    “Looks like they won’t give me a Quietude despite all those things my mouth blabbed on about while I was under the Lens’s compulsion,” I think at Phoe.
    “No,” Phoe replies. “They probably don’t care about such trivialities today. They’re focused on the investigation for the Envoy—the investigation I might ‘aid’ very soon. Also, they’ll likely make you Forget you ever saw them, which would make a Quietude odd, since you wouldn’t recall how you got into trouble.”
    “Go,” the Guard says when we reach the outdoors. He waves toward the Birth Day celebrations in the distance. “Stay out of trouble.”
    I immediately walk away, not needing to be told this twice.
    Maybe-Jeremiah goes back into the building, presumably to get the others.
    “Just as I thought,” Phoe says. “He tried to make you Forget everything that happened. Go somewhere private and do it quickly, unless you want to run into Liam, Grace, or Owen.”
    I head for the nearest structure, which happens to be the cuboid Lectures building. Seeing it deserted might be interesting. This idea never came to me on prior Birth Days because there’s always too much other fun stuff to do.
    Phoe is silent until I enter the building, walk into a Lectures Hall, and sit.
    “Okay,” she says and brings up one of the giant Screens that Instructors sometimes use to put their notes on. “This is that urgent bit of information I mentioned earlier. Just don’t panic.”
    I bet the words ‘don’t panic’ are among the most ominous phrases ever uttered, on par with ‘oh no’ and ‘this will only hurt a bit.’
    On the Screen, I see the Dean’s room, only it’s just Jeremiah and Fiona there now.
    “He’s just a Youth,” Fiona says forcefully. “Despite all the technology in the world, they sometimes have hormonal imbalances. You know what those things can do. Isn’t it why they’re kept separate? As a Youth, I once got my period despite all the preventative measures. My neural scan prior to that was—”
    “Stop.” Jeremiah’s white-gloved hand covers his helmeted head as though he’s dodging a thrown object. “Are you trying to make me vomit?”
    “It’s just biology,” Fiona says, but Jeremiah raises his hand, palm out, to stop her from speaking.
    “I’m not aware of any natural reason his neural scan would look like that ,” he says, lowering his hand. “He’s a male, so your disgusting little story doesn’t apply. However, I have seen scans of Youths and Adults who were deemed insane, and though his is slightly different from those, it’s similar enough that I still insist he be Forgotten, for the good of our society. He’s not violent yet, but that is where this usually leads.”
    “Fine. We’ll talk to the Council, and together, we’ll decide.” She cracks her knuckles.
    “I don’t see the point in wasting our time with bureaucracy. We have an investigation to conduct and—”
    “Have you ever Forgotten someone without formally clearing it with the Council?” Fiona places her hands sharply on her hips. “Because you asking me this makes me wonder—”
    “Of course not,” Jeremiah says, a little too quickly and defensively.
    “Then I don’t understand the necessity of bypassing proper protocols this time either,” she says, her tone cold and formal.
    “Like I said, the reason should be obvious, and time is of the essence,” Jeremiah says. “We learned nothing in regards to our ultimate goal, and instead of needless Council deliberation, as two senior members, surely we can—”
    “My vote would be against Forgetting him,” Fiona says, raising her chin. “I will say so at the Council meeting, should we have one. If you want to save time, we can easily agree to dismiss this matter, as we don’t need the Council for that. Otherwise, the whole Council will have to weigh in.”
    “Fine.” Jeremiah’s posture is tense. “Theodore can