I sat on the bed shaking with frustration and anger when Victor rushed into the room. He sat on the bed and pulled me into his arms.
“Do they have fiction writers who get paid to make this stuff up!” I cried. “Everyone who knows me knows Betas raised me until I was seventeen.”
“That’s how we fight this lie,” Victor said. “We use the hundreds of people who know the truth.”
“There is also documentation of my Beta life,” I added. “My school report cards until my senior year say I’m a Beta. So do my identification cards.”
Victor poured a cup of coffee and handed me my cup. “Do you still have them?”
“Yep,” I replied and gulped my coffee. I needed the caffeine to deal with the latest propaganda.
“Do you want me to call Shane to help you interview people?” Victor asked.
“I’ll do it,” I sai
