The Magical Book of Wands

by Raven M. Williams

  Although she carries the ration cards for all three of them, there’s no telling what will actually be available, apart from a few likely staples such as powdered mashed potato, powdered milk, and powdered eggs. If she’s lucky, she might get a few sausages, and perhaps even the weekly piece of fruit Junior Citizens are entitled to.

  “Smile!” Sally calls out, abruptly snapping Jill’s attention back to the here and now.

  Her granddaughter has her arm raised, holding one end of the twig between her thumb, index, and middle finger. She flicks her wrist, waving the sprig at a weary pair of Senior Citizens in front of them, calling out again: “Smile!”

  “Oh Sweetie,” Jill says. “Folk are tired, bettermost leave them...”

  Her voice trails off when she sees the reaction of Sally’s victims...at first there is an almost comical shock, which Jill imagines results from being spoken to in the first place. This is followed by a light tremble of the corners of their mouth, the first indication of the hesitant smiles which follow.

  Jill stares in amazement as those turn into full smiles, accompanied by a sparkle in the eyes.

  “See,” Sally tells her grandmother triumphantly. “I told you it was...special.”

  All Jill can do is nod, speechless. Sally spins around, aiming her twig at the people behind them: “Smile!”

  Again: Shock, hesitant trembling of lips, and then the gorgeous sight of warm smiles.

  “What a delightful little girl,” the male Senior Citizen in front of Jill says. His companion nods her agreement.

  “My granddaughter,” Jill says proudly.

  “Smile!” Sally repeats her flick of the wrist, her summoning of unaccustomed smiles, and laughs for the sheer joy of it.

  “Careful,” the Senior Citizen who has just complimented Jill says, his eyes quickly darting upwards. Jill looks in the indicated direction, to see a wall-mounted camera slowly turning their way.

  Jill comes to her senses immediately.

  “Sally, put it away now!”

  “Yes, Grams.”

  Fortunately, Sally is quick to understand, and conceals the twig in a pocket of her coveralls.

  The others assume neutral expressions, and resume staring patiently in front of them, waiting for the queue to shuffle another few steps forwards.

  Jill too, sets her countenance at a passive level, fully aware the camera is now pointed at them. It is best if nothing can be read from her face. Certainly not anger, or any other kind of dissatisfaction...nor curiosity, sadness, merriment, or any other demeanour suggestive of emotive cognizance.

  Even Sally looks stony-faced, apart from her eyes, which twinkle with fierce joy, presumably at her newly discovered magic.

  The Citizens who had been conjured to smile, ignore Jill and Sally for the duration of the queue, although Jill fancies that their backs are a bit straighter, their heads held a bit higher, and – when the queue progresses – their steps infused with a lighter spring.

  § § § § §

  Jill is pleasantly surprised by her rations. Not only does she manage to get a few sausages, there are even a few rashers of bacon, and to her delight she is given some butter and two whole fresh onions, as well as a large orange for Sally. There is one last task before they can head back to their tower block. Sally’s old working boots are battered and beaten, and a request for new ones has at long last been met with a coupon for new ones.

  Jill leads Sally deeper into the Commercial Centre complex, away from the long and silent queues by the food shops, all the way to the back to the clothing and shoes section. The area is only dimly lit, with just a few Citizens milling behind various counters. There is no one waiting by the counter for Junior Citizen Shoes, much to Jill’s relief. A teenage girl, about fifteen or sixteen years old, wearing the grey coveralls of a shop assistant, appears from the doorway behind the counter. Jill is struck by the thought that the teenager bears some resemblance to Sally, and thus all the more saddened by the girl’s pale face, the dark shadows below her tired eyes, and her general demeanour which conveys a sad air of hopelessness and resignation.

  Is this Sally’s future? Is this all she has to live for?

  Jill hands over the coupon.

  “One set of work boots, size 1,” the teenager reads, her voice dull.

  “They are for me,” Sally informs her. “Not for Grams.”

  “Are they now?” The shop assistant peers at Sally, more intonation in her voice, and even a brief spark of liveliness in her eyes.

  “I outgrew my old ones,” Sally says. “They were from when I was young. Six. I’m seven now.”

  “Much older,” the shop assistant agrees.

  Jill dares a brief smile. “Sally is a Junior Apprentice. Would it be at all possible to get boots with reinforced toes?”

  She doesn’t explain why. Safety at Sally’s work is treated with the same casual carelessness that Jill knows from her own work, but to suggest as much is on a par with criticising the State. Still, Jill would prefer it if Sally’s toes were protected from falling tools.

  The shop assistant looks regretful and apologetic. “They really only have those on the second and third floor...actually, let’s go and have a look, you never know what I might find...”

  She beckons Jill and Sally to follow her through the doorway. They emerge into a dimly-lit, large storage room, occupied by rows of metal shelving units, all stacked with plain cardboard boxes. There is a table with some chairs near the door. The shopkeeper points at the chairs.

  “Take a seat. I’ll have a dig around.”

  She disappears down one of the aisles. Jill and Sally sit down, Jill with some relief to be off her feet for a short while. The effort of rushing to Sally’s work, and then hastening away from the fox on the wall, is exerting a price. Jill already knows that she will sleep badly this night, kept awake by her aching joints.

  “There’re no cameras here,” Sally says with wonder.

  Jill looks around. “You’re right Sweetie. I expect that is because few people ever come back here.”

  “But that woman let us...”

  Woman? Oh, she means...

  “I think she took a liking to you, Sweetie.”

  “She did?!” Sally was thrilled. “I think I like her too.”

  The shop assistant returns, brushing dust off the box she’s holding. “These might do.”

  “You look sad,” Sally tells her.

  “Sally!” Jill cries out. “That isn’t...”

  “It’s alright, Ma’am,” the shop assistant says. She tells Sally: “I am a little, I guess.”

  Sally’s eyes widen with concern. “Why?”

  The shopkeeper looks uncomfortable. “I guess... I dunno, really.”

  Jill understands the reluctance to admit to any notion of unhappiness, as it can easily be construed as being too critical.

  “Look what I have!” Sally shows the shop assistant her ash twig.

  “A magic wand!” The shop assistant intonates amazement.

  “I am not supposed to say that,” Sally quickly points out.

  “Of course not,” the teenage girl responds. “How silly of me. But...is it?”

  Sally grins, raises the sprig, flicks her wrist...“Smile!”

  The magic works again, the shop assistant’s face is transformed by a gracious smile.

  She’s rather beautiful, really. But...

  Jill isn’t entirely at ease with the situation. There is a lot of talk unrelated to their business; mention of magic wands, smiles...normally Jill wouldn’t trust any stranger, there simply being too much at stake, but somehow this girl has disarmed her.

  As if she has read Jill’s thoughts, the shop assistant says: “But, back to business. Let’s take off your boots, so you can try the new ones on.”

  She kneels by Sally’s feet, and begins to unlace the little girl’s boots.

  Sally looks pleased, and Jill is grateful that the shop assistant has made an extra effort. She gives the teenage girl a fo
nd look...

  ...until she notices...

  ...Jill frowns. Tells herself that she must be imagining things. Looks again. Shakes her head almost imperceptibly. Could it be possible?

  When Sally’s new boots have been laced, Jill suggests that her granddaughter tries them out.

  “How far should I walk, Grams?”

  “All the way to the end of the aisle, Sweetie.”

  “And back again!” Sally is off.

  “My Dear...?” Jill says softly.

  The shop assistant looks at Jill, puzzled at the tone.

  “I couldn’t help but notice...” Jill points at the teenager’s own work boots.

  The girl looks at them. “I don’t...”

  Then she spots what Jill has seen, on the outer side of her right sole...a spray of dried droplets of red paint. There’s not much of it, and not quickly spotted...but once seen, it’s clear that it’s the kind of pattern left by a spray can.

  “Squash the beef?” Jill asks softly, looking away only to ascertain that Sally is still on her brief walkabout.

  The girl colours red, then assumes a defiant look. There is nothing left now of the tired looking, dispirited teenager. It has been replaced by a reckless, gutsy challenge, and the power of conviction.

  “Why?” Jill asks.

  “Because...,” Squash answers. “Because it just ISN’T right. And nobody is doing anything about it! Someone should do something...say something...”

  Paint something...maybe if this is how Sally turns out at that age, I’d be proud...but the risks she’s taking!

  “Well, you’d best get that cleaned, awfully fast, before someone notices it,” Jill advises.

  Squash looks at her in astonishment. “You’re not going to...you’ll...?”

  “I’m going to thank you,” Jill says sincerely. “Because I cannot even begin to explain how much I enjoyed seeing it, the memories it brought back...I admire your bravery, but...”

  She shakes her head.

  “I should be even more careful,” Squash says softly.

  “I think you should, yes.” Jill smiles at the girl, who smiles shyly back.

  The state would have an apoplexy if they knew how much smiling has been going on today.

  “Our secret,” Jill suggests. “And for heaven’s sake, get that paint off.”

  Squash nods. “Thank you.”

  “No,” Jill says. “Thank you.”

  For a short – chilling – moment, Jill realises that she’s guilty of collusion now, aiding and abetting in Deviancy and Sedition. To her surprise, the notion fills her with secret pride, rather than fear. It feels like she has struck back, somehow.

  Further reflection dissipates when Sally returns, enthusing about her new boots, leaving Jill with far less complex thoughts and emotions to deal with, enveloped by warm love for her granddaughter.

  § § § § §

  The laundry done, Jill’s thoughts turn to the evening’s meal, wondering how she can be creative with their rations, trying not to let thoughts of their encounter with Squash distract her. While she is busy at the kitchen counter, Sally is seated at the small kitchen table, studying her Junior Apprentice exercise book. It consists mostly of fill-in-the-blanks exercises, in which slogans from Citizen Motivational Messages need to be completed.

  The ash twig is on the table as well, and Sally keeps on throwing longing looks at it, no doubt eager to play with it some more, and show to her mum when she gets home.

  “The sooner you finish your homework,” Jill gently chides her. “The sooner you can play with the mag...special twig again.”

  “The workbook is dull,” Sally protests, as she usually does when completing her homework. “Boring. It’s so easy.”

  “Then you’ll be finished all the quicker, Sweetie.”

  “I wish I could wave my mag...”

  Jill gives her a stern look.

  “...twig at it,” Sally says. “And either make it go away, or else complete it all in one second!”

  Jill chortles.

  If only...

  Someone begins to pound at the door.

  “Open up!” A rough male voice. “Open the door!”

  Jill recognises the voice as belonging to their Domestic Supervisor, so is not duly concerned as she makes her way through the short hallway to the flat’s front door. Domestic Supervisors carry out regular inspections, and although the one assigned to Jill’s flat is curt and gruff, he isn’t as zealotous as some of his colleagues.

  Jill opens the door...

  ...her heart skips a beat when she sees that the bulky Domestic Supervisor is accompanied by an Enforcement Officer. She sees her own reflection in the Enforcement Officer’s dark, reflective visor, her wide open eyes filled with apprehensive concern.

  Has Squash been caught? Has she spoken of my collusion?

  “This is her,” the Domestic Supervisor tells the Enforcement Officer. “Jill.”

  “Proper name?” The Enforcement Officer says through a speaker in his helmet, which distorts his voice by giving it a metallic rasp.

  “BN3-02F85-NN984d,” Jill answers. “I’ve got my ID in my coat pocket, should I...?”

  The Enforcement Officer shakes his helmeted head. “I’m here to issue a Mark to Junior Citizen BN3-39Y53-NN984d.”

  A Mark? Dear God, no!

  “Sally!” The Domestic Supervisor barks. “Sally, come here.”

  Jill gathers all her courage. “A Mark?”

  She cannot see the Enforcement Officer’s eyes, but can feel their gaze upon her.

  “Are you disputing the Mark?” He asks, his gloved hands tightening around his gun.

  “No, no,” Jill says hastily. “I just wanted to know what kind of Mark.”

  “Black,” he says curtly.

  Jill momentarily shuts her eyes, fighting the sudden dizziness and nausea that threatens to overcome her.

  I should have never let her keep that damned twig...we took so many risks today...oh poor Sally. It’s all my fault.

  She opens her eyes again, when she hears the Enforcement Officer speak. “BN3-39Y53-NN984d?”

  Sally has come to stand beside her grandmother, and Jill folds a protective arm around the little girl’s slender shoulders.

  Pink Marks be damned.

  Feeling fiercely protective of her granddaughter, Jill briefly contemplates wrestling the gun from the Enforcement Officer, but has to admit this is a foolish notion which would achieve nothing but severe trouble.

  “BN3-39Y53-NN984d?” The Enforcement Officer asks again.

  “Hullo, I’m Sally,” Sally replies shyly, following her greeting with an inquisitive: “Can you see through your helmet?”

  The Domestic Supervisor shakes his head in disapproval. The Enforcement Officer ignores the question, and begins to talk in a bored monotone. He sounds like he’s reading, and Jill supposes there might be some sort of screen within the visor that feeds him information.

  “Junior Citizen BN3-39Y53-NN984d. Today, at 16:14pm, at Latitude 50° 49' 26.40" N and Longitude 0° 06' 18.00" E, you were observed in breach of State Guideline 63.4, sub clause 7b...”

  “What does that mean?” Sally asked, looking from the Enforcement Officer to Jill.

  “It’s a Black Mark offense,” the Domestic Supervisor says sternly. “Deviant behaviour.” He gives Jill an accusing look.

  “...Have you anything to say in your defence?” The Enforcement Officer concludes.

  Jill shakes her head, and squeezes Sally’s shoulder. It’s never wise to contest a Marking.

  She glances at Sally, and to her horror, sees that Sally has brought the ash twig, and now raises it, flicking her wrist...

  No! Don’t!

  “Smile!” Sally says, following her spell up with an exemplary smile of her own.

  The world seems to stop, the scene in the hallway a frozen tableau.

  “She didn’t mean...” Jill begins to say, in a trembling voice that trails away when she sees the Domestic Sup
ervisor’s mouth twitch. She watches in disbelief as he struggles not to smile...and fails – his face almost entirely transformed as his mouth broadens into a large grin.

  Jill forces herself to look away from the unaccustomed sight, turning her eyes instead on the Enforcement Officer, only to see her own face, pale and fearful, reflected in his visor. Sally is still holding up her twig, beaming, her eyes wide with innocence and the absolute conviction that the slender sprig in her hand will work its magic.

  Fearing the worst, Jill barely dares to breathe. The Enforcement Officer holds his silence, his face unreadable, his body language tense, hands gripped tightly around his gun.

  Please. Whatever else, you’re somebody’s son, brother...husband and father perhaps...no matter how much you’ve been impersonalised...Please...She’s just a little girl!

  There is a soft static buzz, then a tinny voice barking impatient instructions. Jill realises that the sounds are coming from the Enforcement Officer’s helmet.

  “Negative, Sir,” the Enforcement Officer replies to whomever is speaking to him.

  His next words astonish Jill. So much so that she can scarcely believe what he is saying.

  “I have concluded that the allegations made against Junior Citizen BN3-39Y53-NN984d are baseless, Sir. I suspect a fraudulent attempt to gain extra rations. I request permission to abort the Marking.”

  No CCTV then, someone in the queue must have reported us!

  “Yes, Sir. Thank you Sir,” the Enforcement Officer concludes. The soft crackling sound from his helmet ceases. He slings his gun over his shoulder, and then, most uncharacteristically for an Enforcement Officer, gets down on his knees, until he’s at eye level with Sally.

  “Thank you, BN3-39...Sally.”

  Sally looks at him solemnly, replying with an earnest: “You’re welcome, Sir.”

  “Now you...you be careful, do you understand me?”

  Sally nods. The Enforcement Officer raises his head, his visor aimed at Jill. She senses the question behind the impenetrable screen designed to hide his humanity.

  “We will be, Sir,” she tells him. “Thank you so much.”

  The Enforcement Officer rises again. “We are done here,” he says curtly to the Domestic Supervisor.

  That is the end of it. The two men leave. The door shuts. Jill lets out a deep breath, turns to face her grand-daughter.