There is only one sink in our house. It's usually hidden behind a curtain in the bathroom. Our faction only allows me to wash my hands on the third day of every two months. A lot can happen to your hands in two months. I scrub soap around each of my fingers carefully to make sure they come out clean. I scrub slowly. The rule is after your hands are clean, the water is shut off and you have to wait another two months. Stalling gives me extra time to feel the water rushing down over my hands. Smoothing all the calluses from molding soap all day.

"Beatide?" I notice my mother standing in the door of the bathroom. I sigh.

"Guilty as charged," I say. She nods disapprovingly at my sparkling clean hands. I shut off the water.

"It should only take you two or three minutes to wash," she says "You just used all of my washing time."

"Sorry!" She turns and heads back downstairs.

"Hey! Aren't you going to wash?" I call after her. No response. I feel guilty about using her water. I'm not exactly an example citizen in our faction, Bathnegation. Not like my Mother at all or Caleb, my perfect brother. Most Bathnegation citizen have the same quality, selflessness. Something I've spent all 16 years of my life working to get. I walk to my room on our creaking wooden floor full of splinters. At least it's clean. Just like everything else in this vapid world. I examine the contents of my closet. It looks like a lump of navy cloth hung on a rack. All of my clothes are navy. I pick out a dress that falls just above my ankles. The sleeves hang of my hands so I roll them up. I twist my hair up into a sloppy bun. Appearance was never something I ever worried about. Everybody in Bathnegation looks the same, but today 16 year olds from all of the factions will join to take the aptitude test. Satisfied with my outfit, I skip down the stairs. Excitement is overflowing in me, the aptitude test is coming.

•••

The aptitude testing room is packed with teenagers. Caleb and I find a seat next to the rest of the Bathnegation children. I'm not familiar with any of them. All my life I molded soap, never even thought about going to play. It's obvious to tell which children are from which faction. The Cleandor faction is dressed in silver and white. The Cleandors mainly focus on laundry soap. So all of their clothing is in pristine shape. The Laundrity are peaceful folks. Dressed in mainly lime green. All day they use Cleandor laundry soap to gently scrub clothing. Boring! The Odorite's have the worst job of all. The spend all day working on deoderant. Which means only every two months, they actually get to apply it. The Dustless dress in mostly black to show the color of all the dust they clean. The Dustless are brave, venturing into the darkest of corners to scrub dust away. All of the Dustless girls have short skimpy dresses that barley cover their thighs. I suddenly feel uncomfortable looking at them and roll down the sleeves on my plain dress.

It takes about an hour for the officials to give the aptitude test to all of the kids finally, they call my name.

"Beatide Prior?" I stand up and smooth my dress. A woman leads me into a small dark room.

"I'm Squeaky," she says. I have to cover my mouth to stop from laughing at her name.

"Yes, Squeaky, as in Squeaky clean," she says. "Don't worry, I get that a lot. Although I'd expect a little more respect from a Bathnegation born child."

"Sorry I-"

"I'm kidding! Now, we have to start testing. Please sit here." She indicates a large tan chair. I nervously slide in. Squeaky fits a brace around my head. She also attaches a wire from the brace to a computer screen. It flickers to life.

"See this? I can see everything that goes on in your mind on this screen."

"A simulation" I understand.

"Yes, drink this" She hands me a small vial of some serum. I swallow it down. It tastes horrible, but the taste disappears fast as my eyelids start to droop.

"Good luck!" she says. And with a click of a button the brace snaps shut and my mind goes blank.

•••

I open my eyes to find myself in a small gray room. There's a table with a bar of soap and a washing board. I stare at both.

"Please chose," a loud feminine voice says. I look at each. Somehow my body doesn't want to work with my mind, I can't pick!

"Now!" the voice says. I start towards both, but I can't chose.

"Fine." the voice says. A large dog appears in the corner of the room. Drool pours out of his mouth. He's smacking his lips at me. Or something behind me. I turn to see a small washing machine. The dog crouches down to pounce. It leaps towards us. I dive in front of the washing machine. Why did I chose to defend the washing machine? I don't know. A new simulation appears. I'm on a bus traveling down a dirt road. A man is sitting next to me smacking on some chewing gum and reading the paper.

"Oi, you heard about this nonsense?" he asks me. He shows me a news article about a robber who took all of the soap from a faction. Without even reading it I know that I know who the culprit is.

"I- I- guess I" I stutter over the words. "I don't know!" He nods and goes back to reading. There's a flash of light and I open my eyes again. I'm back in the testing room. Squeaky looks at me. Her mouth is wide open and staring at me.

"How did I do?" I ask. She rushes to my side.

"Listen," she whispers "You'd better not tell anybody what I'm about tell you." I nod "This test, it's meant to see how each child fits into the factions. For instance if you were Laundrity you would've chose the washing board."

"But I didn't!" I say.

"Shshshsh!" She hushes me. "There's only a few people, quite rare, who get the results you did."

"What am I?" I ask.

"Well, usually I'm not allowed to tell, but Beatide, you have to know. You don't fit into a faction."

"I'm factionless?"

"No no no. Worse. Well, sort of. You fit into three factions. Dustless, Bathnegation, and Odorite. It means, you have a gift, you're detergent. Long ago when the factions were created, there was talk of a legendary substance called detergent. Some people are just born with it in their blood, like you. The detergent makes you almost invincible, like a cleaning machine!"

"Is this a bad thing?" Now I'm starting to worry.

"Well no, but the leaders, they don't like detergents, they mess up the system. You have to promise not to tell anybody. When the Choosing Ceremony comes, make the right decision."

I nod. She gestures me out of the room. We walk down the halls in silence. Back to my brother, Caleb, who seems quite happy about his results, but the rest of the world is a blur. Only Squeaky's words echo in my mind. "It means you have a gift, you are detergent.