Have you ever felt dead even though you’re very much alive? Sometimes I wonder if the apocalypse really happened, or if the world has always been as it is. Maybe my memories are just dreams and not reality... not this reality, anyway. The remembrance of flower filled meadows fills my mind as well as father’s mares with pretty foals frisking at their sides. The little grey pony, Mischief, mine once, trotting along the white washed fence, massive trees overhead intertwining their boughs to create a shady canopy over the road. If I try hard enough I can almost smell the flowers and freshly cut hay...Almost...An unwelcome grimace forms when the light odor of chemically sterilized air fills my nostrils instead.
The escalator slows and comes to an unexpected, abrupt halt. The grey steps are frozen, leaving me stranded in the middle of the incline. It’s broken again. With a sigh I make my way up the last couple of motionless steps, resisting the urge to bound up them. The corridor is crowded with a sea of grey and navy blue uniforms which flow with me, in a mind numbing tortoise like fashion to the arch. The task of holding my wristband up to the scanner is so mundane I almost forget to wait for the red light to turn green and the familiar beep indicating I am registered as, ‘Number 223.’ Yup, that’s me, not Ocean Delany, just Number 223. Sometimes being a mere number annoys me, like today, other days it doesn’t bother me at all. Okay, if I’m being perfectly honest, some days it doesn’t bother me, as much. At least my friends and family refer to me by my given name.
Scanning the crowd, I move on. Maybe something exciting will happen today, though by the expressionless faces it doesn’t appear likely. This day is different, but the routine is the same, lines of girls like me, boarding the subway to return home from the education centre. It is the same pattern followed every Day Six since I was called up to the centre on my twelfth birthday, seven years prior. It is the way of things here, we live at the school and return home for one day each week to share with family, all the teens from the hubs have to do it. The routine is so mundane and boring. Just once I would like to scream, just to see something different, to make people smile, look, jump, anything to liven the place up. However, it’s been drilled into my head and everyone else’s, don’t cause a commotion, don’t drift from the norm, be invisible...just another face in the numbered crowd. That familiar feeling of resistance rises in me, making my fingers clench at my sides. No, resist temptation; there will be time for free expression when you reach the dorm.
My friend Danika catches my eye with a brief smile before she looks away. Excitement tingles, raising the hair on my arms as we exit the tunnel and head above ground. No, there’s nothing new to see here. Even so, I can’t help but examine the concrete passageway. Grey walls as far as the eye can see, flat, smooth and nondescript, guiding me home to my family’s dorm. Home is usually only a one day respite from the cold, stale environment of the routine of school, but not this time and that is what is fueling my steps and everyone’s inner excitement today. This day marks the graduation ceremony and brings with it all the eighteen year olds’ assignments in the city. I look forward to it, as much as anyone can look forward to having the rest of their life assigned to them without a say, I suppose. Still, since very little different ever happens here it is a most welcome breather from the norm.
My parents hold to the belief the land is much the same as before the destruction of the planet. Are they right? According to the Emperor and his officials, all was decimated except for the city of Imram, where we all live now. In the city there is only concrete and food genetically engineered and grown in giant warehouses. The possibility of the old world is always in the back of my head. Thankfully the Emperor hasn’t figured out how to read citizens’ minds yet, or I’m sure many of us would be convicted of treason for the same thoughts.
With a frown, I blink and exit onto the street. In spite of the momentous day and the anticipation in the air there are no banners, no ticker tape parade to mark this celebratory day, nothing but grey buildings on cement foundations as far as the eye can see, cold, sterile and impersonal. It’s a definite let down. It’s like the year the Emperor canceled Christmas. I draw a deep breath of air tinged with a mild chemical odor. Still, I can’t help the smile forcing my lips to curl. No more school!
My joy is dampened by the crowd gathered in the square before the subway terminal. A crowd is never good. It means either a revolt is at foot, which will be easily quelled by armed enforcers, or someone is being questioned for a crime. We all know ‘questioned’ is just a sick way of saying accused and sentenced, seldom is anyone ever found not guilty, even if you didn’t do it. Biting my lip, I close my eyes as the first tortured scream rings out. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as it is followed by a second bone chilling howl.
Though I know better I’m drawn to look, as are those gathered to witness the unfortunate man’s fate. My neighbor Mathias stands stretched between two sets of manacles positioned to hold him spread eagle on the balls of his feet. His wife crouches before him screaming.
Heart in my throat I leap forward, pushing my way through the crowd. “Stop!” Anger carries me to stand before the first enforcer. “What did he do?”
The uniformed man shoves me. “Get back.”
“No.” Stubbornly I hold my ground. “What is this man accused of?”
The enforcer holding the needle shakes his head. “Treason, what else?”
I hold up my hand in a futile gesture. “Why? He has never uttered a word against the emperor.”
“He stole from the warehouse. Now get back.”
Mathias gives me a pleading look. “No! I didn’t steal. I swear I didn’t steal anything.”
Anger is my only defense against the helpless terror threatening to squeeze the breath from my lungs. “That isn’t treason. Who accused him?”
“Get back, or you will get the same as him for interfering!” The second enforcer pushes me and I tumble to the ground. The bite of concrete against my tender skin brings tears to my eyes and I stifle a yelp.
Two enforcers stand in rock still silence as a third sticks the needle into Mathias’s foot. The purple liquid is expelled through the plunger into the victim who screams, protesting his innocence onto deaf ears. Even those loved ones who gather around crying can’t help him. I doubt Mathias would have stolen. Everyone knows Emperor Forbais’ spy cams are everywhere, it would just be too big a risk, besides everything is always locked away and rationed carefully by his henchmen, I mean ‘officials’. One slip of the tongue and you could be seen as a threat to security. People who are seen as such in any way to the new order are disposed of, publicly.
The poison injected into his feet begins to spread a path of burning purple fire through his limbs and his howls of agony grow louder and louder. His face contorts with unspeakable pain. I can’t help him. Oh God. I can’t watch. Scrambling to my feet, I run blindly through the crowd to flee the sight and sound. I’ve seen the punishment before, the victim tortured by the burning until he, or she, goes insane from pain. The idea is to make you confess your sins before your organs are eaten away and you die. It never seems to work though, for the pain makes talking and rational thought impossible amongst the ear-piercing wails.
“Ocean,” Danika, my best friend, appears in my line of vision. “Come on, let’s go home.”
“It’s Mathias, Danika, Mathias.” Tears stream down my face and I don’t bother to wipe them away. “He’d never steal, you know that.”
Her eyes are brimming with her own unshed waterworks. “I know it and you know it; there is nothing we can do for him.”
I’m so angry, yet there is nothing I can do, or say to right it all, except accept it as I know I must. “It’s not right!”
My dark skinned friend puts an arm around me and glances behind. “Hush, the enforcers will hear you. Come on.”
Sobbing, I clap my hands over my ears to block out the horror of torture and allow myself to be led away. Danika is right. There is nothing I can do for Mathias now. When we’ve turned two corners and the evidence of torture has faded, I uncover my ears and swipe away the tears. “I should have helped him... done something.”
“There was nothing you could do, you know that.” Danika pauses to give me a shake. “Stop it. Get a hold of yourself. You can’t arrive home like this and scare your mother.”
She’s right. Ma will be excited to see me home for good. She’ll probably have a celebration planned for the big night. Not only is my school term done and I’m entering the next phase in life, but today is my eighteenth birthday. I am officially a woman, no longer a child. My face heats at the thought of Sol. Will he see me as a woman now and no longer just his friend?
Danika snaps me back into the present. “Hey, can I come over and watch the special broadcast tonight?”
“Sure.” Forcing the sight and sound of Mathias’ torture from my mind I fix her with a small smile. “We should have time to talk before street curfew. Do you have any idea what your assignment is going to be?”
Danika links an arm through mine as we head down the crowded street. “No, I hope I get allocated with you, though. I don’t want to be split up from you and Sol. I should see if he wants to come over tonight too.”
I cast a sly glance at her. “You always invite him.”
Danika grins. “Because you’re sweet on him.”
“I am not.” I look away, my cheeks burning. “We are just best friends is all.”
“Oh please! You do so like him and he likes you. I’ve seen the way you look at each other.”
Yes, I do like him. In fact he, the rooftop and our quiet times spent there are a bright spot of color and joy in my monotonous existence. A lump forms in my throat and I force it back down. “It doesn’t matter. The Emperor has already picked our betrothed. And he never changes his mind.”
“You never know. Sol could apply for a bond like that boy in hub three. He got to marry the girl he chose.”
I can’t help rolling my eyes. “The Emperor had her betrothed put to death so he had to change his choice, and the boy’s match was sickly. It was just luck they got to be with the one they loved. I’m not that lucky.”
Danika releases my arm when we come to her dorm among the neat rows. Each one looks identical, a sturdy black door with a peep hole set against the dull grey of the concrete cube. Only the # 370125 B in grey lettering identifies it as housing Danika’s family.
“I’ll see you after the evening meal.”
“Okay.” I move on down the walk.
“Ocean!”
Looking over my shoulder I spy Sol jogging up behind. We don’t have as much time to spend together these days, with going to schools in separate parts of the city. Once one turns twelve the law decrees girls and boys attend separate schools. It is a barbaric rule as far as most are concerned, but one does not challenge the emperor unless they have a death wish. Sol catches up with me and brushes his sandy locks from his forehead. My heart melts at that simple and familiar gesture. Yeah, I’ve got it bad.
“Do you want to sit on the roof a while?”
The familiar flutter starts in my chest which always seems to occur when Sol is around. “Sure, just for a while. Danika is coming over after to watch the broadcast tonight.”
He falls into step with me down the concrete street. “I wonder what the Emperor is going to announce.”
I shrug. “Who cares, it probably won’t affect us anyway. He most likely just wants to pat himself on the back or something, as usual.” My foot catches on a piece of raised cement and I stumble. That is when I see it. There in the crack a tiny green weed struggles for existence. “Sol, look.” Fascinated I kneel on the concrete, ignoring the rough surface digging into my tender bare knees. “What is it?”
Sol crouches beside me. “It’s a plant, a real plant!” Lowering his voice he casts an anxious glance over his shoulder. “The enforcers must not have noticed it yet.”
Careful not to break it, I pry the root from the damp soil in the crack. The soft shoot sports a single wide green leaf. I turn it around in my hands filled with awe for such a tiny living thing. “I wonder what kind of plant it is.”
“What does it matter? The enforcers will kill it and fill in the crack as soon as they discover it.”
Scowling, I cup my fingers around the seedling to protect it. “Oh no they won’t, I’m going to keep it.”
Sol gets to his feet. “You can’t. You know the rules. No living vegetation other than the genetically engineered ones in the food warehouses is allowed within the city walls, Ocean. It could carry contaminants from the outside world and start the Black Sickness all over again.”
“It is only one little plant, Sol. What harm could it cause?”
“If you get caught with it you’ll be punished.”
“No one will know. I’ll hide it on the roof top.” I carry on down the pathway, excitement quickening my normally sedate steps. When I glance back to see if he’s coming, Sol shakes his head and scoops as much black dirt from the sidewalk crack as he can, and then follows.
We head around the side of my hub #370129 B and climb the thin iron ladder to the roof. From a pile of odds and ends in the corner of the rooftop I pluck a small, chipped clay pot. “I knew some of the things we salvaged might come in handy one day.”
With a sigh Sol helps plant the already wilting weed and then wets the dirt with a bit of sterilized water from his own supply bottle. “There. Are you happy now, Ocean?”
Grinning, I set the weed in a place of honour amidst my paper flowers on thin drinking straw sticks. “Yes, now I have living hope the Emperor can’t destroy.”
“I don’t know about that.” Sol sits cross legged before my odd paper flower display. “The Emperor doesn’t want people to remember what the world used to be like.”
Sitting beside him, I pull out my treasured sketchbook to draw the plant. “I don’t understand why.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to long for what was. It can never be again.”
“Bah!” Waving his claim away I sketch a pastoral scene behind the plant I’ve drawn in the middle of the page. Little by little my idea of a meadow filled with foliage like the one I’ve rescued takes form. “Pa says one day we will return to the past. We’ll frolic in fields of living things, drink from waterways cut through a land of vegetation and be free again one day.”
“Hush, Ocean!” Sol hisses and then glances around as if the dome has ears. “Your words are considered treason. What if someone should hear?”
It’s true. You never know who might be listening. Still, today of all days I refuse to let it bother me. Besides, in my heart I believe one day we will leave this place of concrete, rules and genetically engineered food stuffs. A shadow falls across the roof as the artificial sun slips below the great wall encircling the city. On cue the dome turns dusk, painted in awe inspiring colour just like it does every day at the exact same time. If nothing else, life here is predictable. My inner rebel speaks out, despite the risk. “I know we will be free again one day, Sol. I have to believe, because the idea of being no more than a cog in the wheel of this stale prison stifles me.”
He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You are more than that, Ocean, at least to me.”
His lips descend to brush mine with sweet intimacy. Where his fingers rest against my jaw slow warmth spreads, leaving me giddy. I love him. Forever and always.
When he pulls away and I look into his cool blue eyes, I don’t doubt his claim. I am someone to him, not Number 223 but Ocean, and he loves me too, I’m sure of it, but what is the point? It is doubtful the Emperor will allow us to wed. He makes matches of his own desire; ones he claims are for the benefit of the people as a whole. Love is not a factor in his decisions. Sighing, I tug my hand from Sol’s. “We’d better go.”
“Yeah.” Sol helps me to my feet. In silence we climb down from the rooftop and go our separate ways.
The door handle to my family dorm is cold beneath my fingertips, yet I am warmed by the thought of my family within. Pasting a bright smile on my lips, I open it and enter. “Ma, Pa, Petie? I’m home.”
Six year old Petie’s footsteps echo across the white tile as he bolts for the door and launches himself into my arms. “Ocean! I drew you a picture.”
“You did?” After giving my little brother a big hug, I set him on his feet. “Well, what are you waiting for? You better show me.”
He trots off down the corridor in the direction of the gathering room while I head for the dining area. I adore my little brother. He’s so cute and full of curiosity. It’s sad, by the time he’s twelve this life will have squeezed all the wonder from his body, leaving him an obedient shell to the rules.
My mother smiles when I set my sketchbook on the pristine white counter. “Hi, darling; I’m so glad you are finally home for good.”
After crossing the room I give her a quick hug, noticing the lines of worry framing her eyes which hadn’t been there before. “Is something wrong?”
She smiles and runs a shaky hand down her white apron to smooth it. “No, no, why do you ask?”
“No reason.” Though she turns away, I can’t help observing the grim set of her lips. “Where’s pa?”
“He’s in the gathering room.”
Dumping my satchel on the floor I head for the gathering room, pausing to run a hand over the photo of my mother and I reclining in a field of yellow daisies when I was five. The green of the meadow and bright yellow flowers compliment my cheery red sundress and lend a little vibrancy to the bland white of everything in the dorm. All the dorms are the same in Imram, colourless, disinfected, nondescript buildings. Not homes, merely places you exist, a building in which to bide your time between work or school shifts. With a soft sigh, I enter the gathering room and place a kiss on my father’s forehead. “Hello, Pa.”
He looks up from the tablet where he is reading the weekly news and smiles. “How was school?”
“Oh, the same old, same old.” I sit cross-legged at his feet and lean back against the chair. “Every morning we are reminded how we destroyed the earth with our carelessness, and how great Emperor Forbais is for saving mankind.”
Pa chuckles. “Yes, I suppose. How are your grades?”
I pick up my little brother’s drawing he scribbled with a bit of coloured wax from the foot stool. “Still in the ninety-eighth percentile.”
“Good. You will be assigned an elite task upon graduation.”
“Probably just some boring computer job.” Petie enters with an arm full of odd bits of paper. Ruffling his curly brown locks I take them from him and browse the crude figures and items he’s drawn, each in bright garish color.
“You should be proud. Everyone will look up to you,” Pa admonishes.
“Everyone?” Meaning who, I wanted to ask. Nobody cares what task anyone else is assigned. It is all the same, we are all the same. Our treatment doesn’t change and there are no perks for being given a better job than anyone else since we don’t get paid. Yes, I have a real argumentative streak which I’ve learned to bury deep inside. The twinkle in pa’s eye proves he knows it. There is no point in arguing the point with him, though. He’s proud of me and though it’s fruitless I’m glad he is.
The meal siren echoes across the broadcast system. Together we file into the dining area. Four covered trays slide down the chute and onto the table. As my habit, I take the one labelled ‘teen girl’ and sit in one of the high backed metal chairs positioned along the counter. Upon lifting the lid I discover plain pasta, a tofu chicken breast, a slice of course bread and a bright dollop of steamed vegetables. As usual. the only spot of colour on the tray are the limp vegetables. When I open the carton of soya milk and take a sip. I spy the tiny red wrapped parcel almost hidden under my napkin. After swallowing I return the carton to the tray. “I see the powers that be remembered my birthday.” It’s not really a present, just another reminder to people we can’t go where we please, or do as we like without the emperor’s permission.
Without much enthusiasm I pick up the traditional present marking a sixth, twelfth, and eighteenth birthday and open it. “Oh, yay.” When ma’s lips thin I resist the urge to roll my eyes and affix the bright green tab to my bracelet. She hates it when I roll my eyes. In my defense, verbally protesting is a crime, so what’s a girl to do? “Another tag for my bracelet, I wonder what this will give me access to now, gold, riches, a life?” On my sixth birthday I received a blue one which granted me access to the school. On my twelfth birthday I was given a yellow one which granted me access to the education centre. This green tab I suppose will tell me of my future career. I’m a bit perturbed. I honestly hoped there would be some sort of fanfare. Right, wishful thinking. Suck it up, Princess. With a cheeky grin I hold my arm aloft. “Tada! Don’t I look marvellous?”
Ma smothers a sob and looks down at her tray. A glance at my pa’s stiff upper lip confirms he, too, is struck by the future unknown to us all. He looks away and picks at his tofu. All right, so my attempt to make light of the situation is a bust. The only one oblivious to the tension in the room is Petie, who grins and holds up his own bracelet with the shiny new blue tab he received only weeks before. “I got to go to school; maybe you will get to go to one like me.”
I ruffle his hair. “I’ve already been to that one, Petie.”
He shrugs and digs into his dinner marked ‘male child under 12’. “My school’s better.”
“Sure.” The primary educators who walked around with rulers to smack your hands for any indiscretion, from talking out of turn, or having to go to the bathroom in between permitted breaks were a real hoot. In fairness, I suppose all educators are the same. An unwelcome recollection of one of my classmates who challenged something read in their history book on the destruction of the planet just a few weeks ago swims to mind. No one disputes the educational books. The girl had been convinced her father told the truth when he said he had gotten a glimpse of a green oasis outside of Imram’s high walls once. The girl was beaten for her slip of tongue and sentenced to two weeks in solitary with no home visitation.
The rest of the lukewarm, bland meal is eaten in silence. Once done I help my mother rinse the trays in our allotted portion of water and send them back up the chute to be sterilized before the next meal service. When the task is finished the family gathers in the other room to await the broadcast.
With a soft smile ma slips a small box from the pocket of her apron and passes it to me. “For your birthday.”
Upon opening the box I discover a silver flower with a yellow jewelled centre strung on a thin chain nestled inside. “Oh Ma, where did you get it?”
“I traded my beauty supply allotment for the month to Mrs. Peters.”
“You shouldn’t have, ma! A whole month?” I hug her to me. My ma is the best. The beauty bundle isn’t much, a tiny tube of hand cream, a razor that gets dull after only a couple uses and a square of scented oil paper to dab behind your ears, but it is the only luxury a woman gets all to herself here.
“That is alright, Ocean, I will survive.”
I try not to cry, but a tear trickles down my cheek at the thought of such a sacrifice and of all the other birthday ransoms of the past that ensured such a special occasion would not go unmarked. “This is the best day ever. No more school, a new routine and a pl-” I bite my lip to keep my secret. It will upset Ma and Pa if they know I’ve broken the law and saved the fragile plant. Besides, having a secret all to myself and Sol, is a bit of excitement that is rare here. A knock on the door has everyone scrambling to their feet.
“Quick,” Ma hisses, “Turn the picture around!”
Leaping into action, heart pounding I turn the picture of Ma and I around to display the regal image of the emperor, and then hurry to answer the door. Any reference to the world before the destruction is forbidden. After peeking through the peephole to determine our visitor is only Danika and Sol, I open the door.
My friends step inside and each give me a hug. “Happy Birthday!”
Sol taps my shoulder and holds out his hand. When I position mine below his something dry, green and sweet smelling drops onto my palm. I puzzle it for a moment before recognition dawns on me when the scent reaches my nostrils. “Mint? Is it really a mint leaf?”
He nods. “Mr. Horner gave it to me. It is the last one from his secret stash before he was retired from the supply warehouses. I want you to have it.” He fastens the necklace around my neck and pops the back off the flower, to reveal a little hiding spot just big enough to conceal and protect the fragile dried leaf. “As a remembrance of before the event and in hopes that we might someday return to the land.”
“Thanks.” With care I press the herb inside and then lead the way to the gathering room.
The screen attached to the wall glows and then flickers to life with a loud buzz.
“You’re just in time for the broadcast.” Sitting at my father’s feet I pull Danika down beside me and ma perches on the arm of the chair, holding Petie’s hand. Sol takes up a solitary standing position beside my brother.
Tense silence replaces our earlier good humour. An icy tentacle of dread glides up my back bone. Something terrible is about to happen. Something I will have no power to stop. I try to brush the thought from my mind. No, this is my day to be happy, nothing can ruin that, I won’t let it.
The emperor’s image appears on the screen. The artificial lights gleam off his bald pate before someone adjusts them. His usual black suit gives the impression he is solid and un-bending as he stands at a marble podium flanked by red and gold curtains. The colors are almost mesmerizing when one is used to dull grey, white, dusty green and navy blue. After clearing his throat he looks directly into the camera. Those black, emotionless orbs offer nothing but emptiness. It’s almost eerie. The man of stone we call him behind his back. Does he have any feelings? It never seems so. Maybe he’s not even real... wouldn’t that be a scandal? What if all these years we have been following the guidance of nothing, but a hologram?
My musing is interrupted by the Emperor’s stiff monotone, “Citizens of Imram, we are facing a crisis of gigantic proportions. As you know, many of our elite succumbed to the effects of the disaster that made us rebuild our civilization. We are now faced with dwindling numbers to repopulate those whose valuable input controls and governs our great city. Within a few short years we will simply cease to be without new blood to infuse into the population. I have therefore issued a degree that when put in place will insure the survival of those most deserving of our people. Every girl who has reached majority age since the beginning of the year, and was never touched with the black sickness, will be relocated to a special facility within the week where they will be used to ensure our continued survival. You will receive further instructions tomorrow and be assigned a travel tag. All boys who have reached their majority will be taken to the trade assignment facility as expected. Anyone who tries to avoid their duty will be executed.” The emperor smiles into the camera as if he has just blessed us with a wonderful gift and then it fades to static.
Terror renders me silent as I try to digest everything I’ve just heard. I’ve reached my majority as of today. ‘Used to ensure our continued survival’... Used... how? It takes me a moment before I realize I am staring at Sol. The silence stretches between us like a force field until it is broken by a howl of despair issued from my mother’s lips.
Pa launches from his chair and gathers her close. “Hush, Lea, you’ll frighten her.”
The next thing I know I’m clutching Danika’s hand. “Was I ever touched with the sickness, Pa?”
“No.” His thin, strangled answer echoes in the tiny room.
A choked sob escapes Danika. “Nor have I, I’m sure of it.”
“What does it mean, Pa?” I know what it means, I am just afraid to put it into words, as if maybe not saying it out loud will render the idea void. My wide eyed gaze flickers across all their strained expressions.
Sol looks away and then down at his hands. “It means you will be taken away.”