"After all, the illusion of choice only works so long as it stays an illusion" - Debra Kelley. 

.............................. 

The blurry shapes of what looked like people floated about in the bluish space above me. I groaned, sucking in a deep breath of air as I rubbed the backs of my hands over my eyes to clear my vision. What I saw next jolted me immediately into a sitting position. 

I was laying in a hospital bed, a faded blue gown draped over my sweaty body. Two nurses stood in front of me, looks of concern on their faces. 

"W-what is this? Where am I? Where's my daughter? We were at her school and then..." 

And then what? Now that I thought about it, I didn't really remember. 

"Looks like we need to cut back on the painkillers- she's hallucinating again," the shorter nurse said quietly to the other as she made a note on the clipboard in front of her. 

"You had an accident while driving back from the school. You're very lucky someone called an ambulance so soon- we believe there was some head trauma. But since you got to us so quickly, the worst you'll suffer is some short term memory loss," the second nurse explained much more helpfully. 

"But- but my daughter!" Everything in the room seemed to blur out of focus. I scanned the small space around me frantically, most of the nurse's words going in one ear and out the other. I didn't care what had happened to me- I didn't care about anything until I was sure that my Sofia was safe. 

"Your daughter was sent to a special facility for children dealing with... unique Benchmark struggles for a three-week supplemental education program. Her teacher says you authorized it." 

An inexplicable feeling of anger rushed up from my gut. Somehow, I knew I'd been horribly cheated, though I couldn't put my finger on the who and the why. 

"I authorized nothing of the sort!" I shouted indignantly, my chest heaving. Both of the nurses recoiled at my outburst. I must've been a sight to see- a screaming thirty-something suburban mother with matted hair and bloodshot eyes. "Quite contrarily, I opted out of the Benchmark for my daughter! For the rest of her life!"

"We can't expect you to remember the details of the moment, Mrs. Lancaster. The woman who brought you here- Debra Kelley- says you were very emotional and must not have been...thinking entirely straight," the first nurse reassumed her professional smile, talking with practiced ease. "Speaking of Ms. Kelley, she's been waiting outside for you to wake up for quite a while. We'll go ahead and give you a moment to, er, catch each other up on what happened." 

And with that, before I could offer my opinion of the plan, the two nurses turned their backs to her and headed toward the door. I balled my hands into fists at the sight of Ms. Kelley's slight figure behind the translucent glass window. How could she make such a blatant mistake? How could she confuse my request for its exact opposite? I was ready to give that woman a piece of my mind, but the worst thought yet only struck me when she was already inside the room, taking her seat in a chair across from my bed. 

What if it wasn't a mistake? 

"Ah, Mrs. Lancaster. I'm glad to see that you're feeling better," Ms.Kelley said silkily, folding her hands over her crossed legs. 

"What did you do with my daughter? I believe I made it abundantly clear that I wished to opt out of all further involvement with the Benchmark!" 

"Opt out of her Benchmark and you opt out of her future," Ms. Kelley said coldly. "What will seventeen-year-old Sofia think of you ten years from now when no competitive college will accept her without recent Benchmark scores? What kind of a mother will you be to her?" 

"What kind of mother I am is none of your business!" 

"So stubborn, so illogical," Ms. Kelley shook her head, running her hands through her hair. "It's because of people like you that there isn't really an opt out option on the Benchmark. It's just a formality, like the 'decline' button you see after reading a website's terms and conditions. No one is supposed to choose it- doing so would fundamentally violate its purpose. After all, the illusion of choice only works so long as it stays an illusion."

"Listen, I'm not afraid to sue!" I hissed threateningly. "In fact, let me call my lawyer right now. I'm not going to say another word until he's here."

I reached over to the table beside me, hoping I would find my phone, when Ms. Kelley let out a long sigh. 

"You were in a car accident. I called the ambulance and potentially saved your life. You'll sue me for that? Listen, no one but you and I were in the room when we discussed Sofia's Benchmark. I know you're angry at me, but you have to trust the system. The rules are in place for a reason- they will help you and your daughter out in the long run." 

"No! They're going to make her just like everyone else! They're going to take away the most important part of who she is..." I trailed off, tears streaming down my face, as I realized just how helpless I was. "Why are you doing this?" I choked out, shaking my head softly. "Why?" 

"You think this is me?" Ms. Kelley smiled grimly. "Mrs. Lancaster, I am a government employee. Ask the UN why they ratified the Benchmark Accords, complete with their unsavory classified clauses. Ask your lawmakers whom you voted for why they welcomed the UN's decision with open arms. But don't ask me... I'm just doing my job." 

And that was when, for the first time in my life, it all began to make sense. But the feeling wasn't enlightening- it was depressing. The illusion of choice... Ms. Kelley was right. We did what they wanted, whether we knew it or not. Always. 

"The Benchmark Accords were never meant to ensure every child in the world a basic education, were they? They're a political tool! They force a child's mind into a tiny box! Are differences of opinion such a hazard nowadays?" 

"The Benchmark Accords prepare children for 21st century jobs." 

"My daughter's leprechaun story might've been mathematically cumbersome, but it was a beautiful story! What if my daughter wanted to be a writer? Is that not a 21st century job, huh?" 

"No, realistically, it is not. Competition in the publishing industry will only continue to-" 

"I don't care about competition!" Something snapped in me as all the emotions I'd been holding back for the past few minutes were let loose. I felt betrayed, not just by my government but by the very society I lived in. Only one concern remained at the front of my mind. 

"I just want my daughter to be happy. Is that too much to ask?" I questioned feebly before bursting into sobs.