[ WP ] Everybody who turns 25 learns a reality shattering secret about the world . Nobody has ever leaked this secret to somebody under 25 . Today is your 25th birthday .

“ Name? ” 
 
 “ Felicia Krohn. ” 
 
 The woman, “ Gladys, ” according to the name tag pinned to her white lab coat, stepped away from the desk. Rows of filing cabinets stretched from floor to ceiling and stretched to reach tall, coolly lit windows. The light picked up dusty swirls and halos around Gladys as she bent and pulled a drawer, wheezing. She picked through the files until she found mine, and pulled out a slip of paper that wafted and crackled in the draft. My mouth got dryer as her heavy footsteps dragged closer. She lay the document on her desk. Felicia Annette Krohn. Born Day 3, 177th cycle, 0900 hour. 
 
 “ Place your index finger here, please, ” Gladys guided my hand to the white Phlebotomer. I winced as the needle shanked my finger. Gladys held my hand over the 25th square on the paper, alongside 24 increasingly faded blotches of red. She handed me a square of gauze and fed the paper into a slot. The slot made a vacuuming sound which I knew meant my sample was being whisked away to some lab. Perhaps. I could not be sure. 
 
 “ Thank you, Ms. Krohn. You may have a seat over there, ” her eyes flitted up at me, baggy and red-rimmed with clumsily-applied violet eyeliner. “ Happy birthday. ” 
 
 I sat down beside a man hunched over in his chair and clasping his shaking hands. His eyes were still and seemed to see beyond the industrial carpeting of no color in particular. The woman next to him, closer to the door, sat straight with her slim jaw held aloft. Her grey eyes slid over to me under their long eyelashes. The door opened. 
 
 “ O ’ Hare, Blanche, ” called a man in a white coat with a clipboard. Blanche slowly stood and smoothed her skirt before following him inside. The door shut behind them and I gazed around me. Drop tile ceiling. Fluorescent lighting. Gladys blowing her nose and inspecting the tissue. 
 
 “ Donuts are here! You want lemon or raspberry? ” called a nasal voice from beyond the file-drawers. “ ‘ bout damn time, ” Gladys stood and slid shut the frosted glass window. 
 
 I waited for the voices to fade before I gave the man beside me a sidelong look. “ So, ” I whispered, grabbing a magazine from the table and opening it to a random page, “ what do you suppose it is? ” 
 
 A pause stretched for minutes, and it seemed he had not heard. Or chose not to hear. 
 
 “ My sister got her secret many cycles ago. Acted like she was the queen of Sheba when she got home. I could ’ ve slapped that smug grin off her face, ” I volunteered, the carpet soaking up my voice. The man blew out a breath and balled his hands into fists on his knees. Clenching, unclenching. 
 
 “ I tried for weeks to get her to tell me. I was so darn curious. When that didn ’ t work, I pretended like I wasn ’ t interested. She was so full of herself, she had to be burning to rub my face in whatever it was. No, that didn ’ t work either, ” I laughed. My conversation partner didn ’ t break his gaze from the floor. 
 
 “ Well... I finally got the idea to look for it in her diary. She kept it hidden inside this teddy bear with a ripped seam she didn ’ t think I knew about. With her cigarettes and lighter. When she caught me, slapped the back of my head so hard my ears rang. And I couldn ’ t even tell on her because it ’ s forbidden to do what I was trying to do, right? 
 
 But then she said the weirdest thing, ” I glanced over and saw the man had tilted his head slightly toward me. 
 
 “ She said- ” 
 
 “ Rodriguez, Hector, ” 
 
 Hector jumped in his seat and turned his head toward the doctor. “ Hector, follow me, please, ” the doctor tapped his pen on the clipboard. Hector went in like a man walking to the gallows. 
 
 The door shut again and I smacked the magazine back down on the table, reclined until the back of my head bumped the wall. I bit my tongue and rubbed my sore scalp as I took in my bland tableau once more. Why is it that I had not seen anyone come back through that door yet? 
 
 The door opened once more, giving me a start. “ Krohn, Felicia, ” said a woman who never looked up from her clipboard. She propped open the door with her foot and took a greasy bite out of a glazed danish while she waited for me to come in. 
 
 I balled up the stained gauze in my right hand and followed the woman down a hall that ended with one door. 
 
 “ Go on inside and the doctor will explain your results, ” the woman said through a mouthful of danish. 
 
 “ Results? Of what? ” 
 
 She rolled her eyes at me, turned her heel and walked away before turning into another hall out of sight. 
 
 I placed my hand on the cold metal handle a moment before grasping and turning it. 
 
 “ Come in, Felicia! ” the doctor piped in a sing-song voice. She hugged me with thin arms and beamed in a way that drew her lined face taut against her skull. Before I could think to return the hug, she was already sitting down behind her desk and motioning for me to take the chair across from her. 
 
 “ I ’ m Dr. Hopper, I will be explaining your results with you today, ” she folded her hands over a thick file, “ are you having a happy birthday, Felicia? ” 
 
 “ Er... yeah, I think so. Um, what results? Have I been tested for something? Am I... sick or something? ” my voice broke. 
 
 Dr. Hopper simpered and slid a box of tissues toward me. “ There, there, nothing to worry about. This is your big day! You get your secret! ” 
 
 I blinked and plucked a tissue from the box to dab my eyes, conscious of her studying my face with inscrutable eyes that didn ’ t seem to follow her mouth. 
 
 “ You have been monitored closely with the greatest care every cycle of your life, ” she began. “ We have concluded, Felicia, that you have a soul. ” 
 
 “ What? ” 
 
 “ It ’ s great news! ” 
 
 “ Isn ’ t everyone supposed to have a soul... I mean, how do you even test for it? Aren ’ t you supposed to be a doctor? ” 
 
 “ Oh, Felicia, honey, that ’ s the secret. Since the 34th cycle, we found something, markers in the blood, that indicate the presence of the soul. ” 
 
 “ So some people don ’ t have one? ” 
 
 “ As far as we know, no, not everyone tests positive for a soul. ” 
 
 “ If you can know by looking at my blood, why wait until I ’ m 25 to tell me? ” 
 
 “ The brain is fully developed by about 25. The genetic markers for the soul are strongest by then. Some scientists believe the soul may have its seat in the brain. So you see, we can ’ t know for sure if a person has a soul until they reach their 25th birthday. ” 
 
 We sat in silence for a moment. “ Wait. How do you even know this thing is a soul? ” 
 “ Because it persists. We ’ ve studied - please excuse me if this seems morbid - but we ’ ve looked at what remains after the bodily tissues have decayed. This material, the soul, it persists. We ’ ve even been able to contain it. For a little while. Would you like to see one? ” 
 
 My skin crawled. “ Um... no, thank you. I ’ m just trying to figure out - what does it mean? ” 
 
 “ That ’ s for you to decide, Felica, ” 
 
 “ What about people who don ’ t have a soul? What happens to them? ” 
 
 “ It depends. Probably nothing. Some people didn ’ t believe in souls even before they received the secret. How can you miss something you never believed you had? ” Dr. Hopper steepled her fingers together and smiled at me. 
 
 “ Well then... why is this kept a secret? ” 
 
 “ Because people need to have a choice, ” she pulled a stack of paper from the file and slid it across the desk to me. 
 
 “ What ’ s this? ” 
 
 “ It ’ s your extraction consent form, ” Dr. Hopper handed me a pen.
