A/N: So, first off, I believe in equal rights for everyone, men and women, any race, any nationality or sexuality. But this idea came to me, and wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it, so here I am, publishing something that will probably get flamed for being sexist or something. Apologies to anyone who gets offended, but really, this story isn't about 'putting women in their place', it's about giving everyone, men and women, equal freedoms. So, here's the story.

Her name was Amelia.

That was all he knew about her. Her name was Amelia—no surname, apparently. Her hair? He didn't know. Eyes? Nope. Height, weight, age? No, no, and no. Gender? He wasn't sure if she even was a girl.

He only knew that the person was called Amelia. It was unsettling—he was supposed to meet her/he/it later. A rebellion in the making, she was helping to plan it. Or he, whatever.

He lived underground. At sixteen, he was only three years off from being moved across the country to the coast, where he would meet Lucinda. She was supposed to be pretty—at twenty-three, she was supposed to still hold a youthful appearance, though she had just recently given birth to her second child. A son. Disappointing her, to say the least, he was handed over to the Officials and sent underground with the rest of the men, to be raised as Breeding Stock, as they all were.

It made him sick.

He hated being a male—hating only existing to continue his race. He wanted to be somebody. He wanted an actual life—not to be some rich woman's play thing.

So he would meet with Amelia, and they would start a rebellion.

"Walter?"

At the sound of his name, he spun around nervously. It wasn't a rare name—one of the more popular ones from the year he was born, but no one knew who he was, here. He was in a disguise—he was wearing the same clothes as the rest of the men there—clean and white and flawless, though it spoke up loudly that he was only Breeding Stock.

The girl who had spoken his name had dark, wavy hair and cold eyes. She looked perplexed—like she couldn't fathom why in the world was he not underground with the rest of the men. He wasn't sure how she knew him—but it was unsettling, to say the least. He needed to be unknown to the world to ignite the rebellion; he couldn't risk being compromised.

His voice low, he asked, "Amelia?"

She nodded vehemently, and grabbed his wrist, "Come along now," she bit her lip, "You're not supposed to be here."

His stomach flipped. This was the agreed meeting spot. The right time, the right place, but this girl... Was he followed? Oh no, he gulped. They were going to send him back underground—he couldn't do it, couldn't go back to being just another boy, just another replaceable thing.

So he yanked his arm away from her, grabbed her wrist, and ran forward. Because he wasn't going to let anyone overpower him anymore.

A/N: So, what did you think? Reviews, please.