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My father put his fork down and reached to pat my arm. “I’m sure you’ll do well in Lottery, Amber, but even if you end up as Level 99, we promise that we will still be here for you.”
“Of course we will,” said my mother.
“We’ll even promise to keep feeding you melon juice once a week,” added my father.
The attempt at humour convinced me they really meant it. Relief swept over me and left me hovering on the edge of tears. I mustn’t start crying. Gregas was already looking horrified at being dragged into such an emotional moment.
I desperately tried to get the conversation away from Lottery. “It was rather traumatic going to Level 93 yesterday. I was strapped on a stretcher, and a paramedic was taking me down in a lift, when a telepath squad joined us.”
My mother gasped. “No wonder you’re stressed and suffering from ridiculous worries. It must have been terrible for you, being trapped in a lift with one of those ... repugnant creatures.”
Gregas abruptly discovered words. “You can tell from their masks that nosies have peculiarly shaped heads. If you were in the lift with a nosy, you must have been very close to the creepy thing. Did you get a look under its mask?”
“Yes, I was very close to the nosy.” I shuddered. “It was leaning over my stretcher, looking down at me, but I didn’t see its face, only a glint of purple eyes.”
Gregas looked horrified and thrilled at the same time. “My friend, Wesley, says he saw a nosy take his mask off once, and there was a purple head underneath, with no hair or proper face at all, just saucer-shaped eyes.”
“Stop upsetting your sister, Gregas,” said my mother. “It’s appalling that a telepath squad should force themselves on someone that’s injured and helpless for no good reason. I’ll complain to Health and Safety about it.”
“Actually, the telepath squad did have a good reason for coming in my lift,” I said. “They came to arrest the paramedic.”
“You saw someone get arrested?” Gregas’s eyes widened. “High up, Amber! What was the paramedic thinking about that got him arrested?”
I had a feeling that Gregas would soon be telling Wesley a lurid version of this story. “It sounded like the man was planning to hurt two people.”
“He was? What will happen to him?” demanded Gregas.
“I don’t know. The telepath mentioned corrective treatment.”
Gregas gave a theatrical shudder. “Wesley says that his uncle worked with someone who got taken away by a telepath squad and they never saw her again.”
“Wesley has an extremely overactive imagination,” said my father. “Don’t you remember when his parents moved to this corridor four years ago, and he told you they weren’t his real parents? They’d just adopted him after he was traded here from another Hive.”
“I should never have believed Wesley about that,” admitted Gregas.
“No, you shouldn’t,” said my father. “While it’s true that Hives trade a few people after Lottery to fill key vacancies, it’s hard to imagine that our Hive had a desperate need for an eight-year-old boy with an addiction to coconut flavoured crunch cakes. I suspect that Wesley’s statements about nosies are equally unreliable.”
I suddenly had a new fear to add to my concerns about Lottery. What would it be like to come out of Lottery and be traded to another Hive? There were one hundred and six other Hive cities in the world. I’d heard a few of their names on our Hive news, and I’d picked up the fact that some of them were smaller than our Hive and some were bigger, but I knew nothing about what life was like for their people.
We hadn’t been taught anything about other Hives in school, because an ordinary loyal citizen of our Hive should have no interest in them, and anyone assigned to a profession in something like Hive Trade would be imprinted with all the information they needed. I’d heard whispered rumours of how conditions in other Hives were better or worse than our own, but they were probably just the wild imaginings of people like Wesley.
Was it possible that I’d come out of Lottery and discover the truth about other Hives by being traded to one of them? If that happened, then I’d never have any contact with my family again.
For a second, I was numbly picturing that horror, but then commonsense prevailed. People were only traded to fill positions that were utterly vital to the functioning of a Hive. For once, my total lack of talent for anything was reassuring. I definitely wouldn’t be traded to an alien Hive, because none of them would want me.
“Don’t you think so, Amber?” asked my father.
“What? Sorry, I was thinking of something and got distracted.”
“I was saying that I find the presence of telepaths deeply unpleasant, but cases like your paramedic prove that they perform a vital service for the Hive. If your paramedic was thinking of harming people, then he had to be stopped before his thoughts became actions.”
“I agree,” I said.
“Let’s forget about telepaths now, and enjoy the rest of our meal,” said my mother. “Gregas mustn’t be late for school.”
Gregas groaned. “School is such a waste of time. I’m twelve years old. I can read, know my tables, can recite all the Hive Obligations, and sing all the Duty songs. Why do I have to keep spending three hours a day, five days a week in school when there’s nothing left for me to learn? I’ll be imprinted with all the other knowledge I need when I come out of Lottery.”
It seemed as if every conversation I’d had in the last day or two kept coming back to the subject of Lottery. Were people mentioning it more because the Lottery of 2531 would be starting soon, or was it just that I was far more sensitive to every passing reference? I tried to force away thoughts of what it would be like to be imprinted, and ate the last few forkfuls of my casserole.
“After Carnival, your school lessons will concentrate on preparing you to move to Teen Level, Gregas,” said my father. “You’ll have plenty of new things to learn. Such as how to use laundry machines instead of dumping dirty clothes in a basket to reappear, magically folded and clean, on your shelves.”
“How to budget so you can live comfortably on your teen allowance,” said my mother.
“The limited range of food and drink on Teen Level,” I said gloomily.
Gregas reverted to grunting an inaudible reply.
We had chocolate crunch cakes with cream drizzle for dessert, and then Gregas left for school. My parents and I watched one of the Hive entertainment channels after that, our attention divided between a thriller about a Hive England Defence team chasing a spy from another Hive, and a conversation about my parents’ work developing new types of fruit and vegetables for the Hive hydroponics areas. There was, mercifully, no mention at all of Lottery.
When I finally left, I had a couple of illegal crunch cakes in my pocket. Rather than tamely going back to Teen Level in a lift, I headed for the shopping area, and walked across to the moving stairs in the centre. I gave one furtive look round for hasties, couldn’t see any, and jumped on the handrail of the downway.
I balanced there precariously, as the moving handrail carried me down through the shopping areas on Level 28, Level 29, and Level 30. Strictly speaking, riding the rail was against the Hive safety rules, but it was accepted as a harmless teen gesture of rebellion, so I risked nothing more than a mild scolding from any hasty that spotted me.
I’d reached Level 33 when I heard the traditional warning whistle all the teens used, one low note, one high, one low, that meant hasties were about. I looked round to see who was whistling the warning, and saw a young man going past me on the upway. He looked as if he’d been through Lottery at least two or three years earlier, but he grinned at me, and made the T sign with his forefingers that signalled serious trouble.
I was puzzled, but waved my thanks at him, and jumped down to stand sedately on the moving stairs of the downway. When I reached the shopping area on Level 34, I saw why the man had been warning me. A group of a dozen hasties were standing near the moving stairs, studying everyone who went by, as if they were looking for someone in particular. I’d no idea what was going on, but judging from their grim expressions this wasn’t a good time to be caught riding the handrail.
When I reached Teen Level 50, I walked along the corridors back to my room. When I opened the door, I half expected to find a hole in the wall, but the air vent inspection hatch cover was in place. The towel hanging over it had obviously been moved and then hung up again. I went across and adjusted it to cover the grille properly.
I grudgingly gave Forge credit for keeping his promise to be out of the vent system by the time I returned. I inspected the room suspiciously, but the only sign of disturbance was that the heap of dirty clothes on the floor had been shoved further into the corner.
There was a ringing sound from my door chime. I opened the door, expecting to see either Forge or Shanna, but it was Atticus. He held out a familiar bag and towel.
“I brought these back from the beach for you.”
“Oh, thank you.” I took them off him. “I’ll need them for swimming training.”
He stared down at his hands for a moment before speaking. “What I said to you about my parents being Level 80 ...”
“Don’t worry. That was a private conversation so I won’t tell anyone.”
“That’s not what I meant.” He stared down at his hands again, then looked up at me and spoke in a rush. “I’d like you to be my partner for Carnival, Amber. I told you my parents were Level 80 because I didn’t want to mislead you into thinking I had a high level family like you.”
I was stunned into silence. A boy from another corridor group had asked me to partner him last year, but I’d turned him down. Given the oddness of my reaction to Forge, I’d felt it best to stick to the Carnival parties for the younger teens and single people, where everyone danced the solo or communal ribbon dances.
Partnering someone for Carnival was a significant commitment. It meant spending three days of parties in their company, with the implication that the relationship would continue after that.
I dealt with the minor side issue first. “How did you know that my family was high level? I only had the set of basic possessions authorized under the Teen Level equality rules, and I never mentioned my parents’ level to anyone.”
He laughed. “When I arrived on Teen Level, it was clear who’d come from a high level of the Hive. You were shocked by how basic the rooms were, and mentioned food and drinks that we’d never had on Level 80.”
I remembered my conversation with the man at the refreshment kiosk in the Level 93 park. “Things like melon juice?” I asked guiltily.
He nodded. “It only took me a minute looking up luxury items on my dataview to work out your parents’ levels. Shanna’s parents were elite. You were next highest of the girls, with parents who were at least Level 30. Forge was the highest of the boys, with parents who were at least Level 20.”
“You’ve forgotten about Reece,” I said. “His parents are elite.”
Atticus laughed. “Reece keeps claiming his parents are elite, but that isn’t true.”
I blinked. “Reece has been lying about that?”
“Yes. Reece misunderstood something Shanna mentioned on the first day. He thought she was talking about a fruit when it was a type of cake, and she gave him a withering look. His parents are Level 40 at most.”
Atticus looked at me expectantly. He was waiting for me to make a decision about being his partner for Carnival. Buzz had suggested it might be helpful to date someone, and that did make sense. Forge was my best friend’s boyfriend, and we went swimming training together. I spent far more time with him than any other boy, so naturally I’d be focused on him.
I tried to force thoughts of Forge out of my mind. The important thing wasn’t how I felt about Forge, but how I felt about Atticus. I certainly liked his quiet, serious nature, and I thought he was very intelligent. He fought a losing battle to keep his rebellious brown hair tidy, and he didn’t have Forge’s spectacular good looks or muscled build, but I found him attractive.
If I accepted Atticus as my partner for Carnival, then we’d be going to the parties for older teens in relationships, and things like kisses would be expected. The idea of kissing Forge made me feel deeply uncomfortable, but I could imagine enjoying kissing Atticus.
“You obviously hadn’t realized I was building up to asking you to be my Carnival partner,” said Atticus. “You’d better take some time to think about it and give me your answer tomorrow.”
“I don’t need time to think about it. I’d love to be your partner for Carnival.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind about the level difference?”
“There’s a level difference between our parents, but not between us. All teens are Level 50 and equal.”
“That’s wonderful.” Atticus gave me a joyful smile. “Perhaps we could do some things together over the next few days, so we get comfortable with each other’s company before the Carnival parties start.”
“Yes, that would be a good idea. We’re supposed to be at our community centre tomorrow morning for the next activity session on embroidery.” I pulled a face. “Not that there’s much point in me going. I was dreadful at the embroidery session last week. For that matter, I’m dreadful at most things. I’ve been to every type of activity session our community centre has offered since I came to Teen Level, and shown no sign of talent at any of them.”
“You’re good at swimming,” said Atticus.
“Not good enough to be a professional swimmer.”
“You’re still doing better than me,” said Atticus. “I seem to have no talents at all.”
I shrugged. “Anyway, I’ll be free tomorrow afternoon and evening.”
“We could go to one of the evening parties on Teen Level beach.”
“My doctor said I should stay away from Teen Level beach until the cut on my head heals, because wet sand might cause problems.”
“We could just go to the park,” said Atticus.
I frowned. “Linnette and Casper are park volunteers, and they’ll be helping out there tomorrow afternoon.”
“Does that matter? We aren’t hiding this from our friends, are we?”
“No, we aren’t. I only meant that we’d end up in a group with Linnette and Casper, and the idea was that we’d spend time alone together.”
“That’s true.” Atticus paused to think. “The Blue Zone Arena has started running Light and Dark pageants in preparation for Carnival. We could go to the one tomorrow afternoon.”
I didn’t really enjoy Light and Dark pageants, but I’d already turned down two suggestions from Atticus so I felt I had to accept this one. “Yes, we can do that.”
“Were you planning to eat lunch at the community centre after the activity session?”
I nodded. I got most of my meals at the community centre because it was the cheapest place to eat.
“I was planning to skip tomorrow morning’s activity session,” said Atticus, “but I think I’ll go along after all. That way we can have lunch together before we go to the pageant.”
There was an awkward moment. Were you supposed to kiss someone after agreeing to be their Carnival date? I wasn’t sure, and Atticus didn’t seem sure what to do either, but then I saw someone further down the corridor.
“Reece is watching us,” I whispered a warning.
“I’d better go then. I’ll see you later, Amber.”
Atticus hurried off down the corridor, and I dodged back inside my room and shut the door to avoid Reece. I went across to the wall mirror and looked at my reflection. The lump of glue in my hair made it look like my head was as peculiarly shaped as a telepath’s, but Atticus had still asked me to be his partner for Carnival. I’d definitely done the right thing accepting him. By the time Carnival was over, I’d probably have forgotten all about my odd reaction to Forge.
I was smiling foolishly at my reflection when a disembodied voice spoke from the end wall.
“Amber, it’s me.”
