"Why doesn't anyone ask me questions about when I was gone?" I ask Sadie.
"People don't generally ask questions," she says with a shrug.
"What do you mean, they don't ask questions?"
"Exactly that. People don't ask direct questions. They may hint that they want more information, or they may ask questions that pertain to work or business, but as a general rule people don't question each other in social conversation."
"How does anyone find anything out?"
"They don't I suppose. Unless the person they are talking to wants to share. You have to realize that asking a direct question forces the person to speak the truth. We are not allowed to lie. So it has become rude to put someone in the position to give out information they may wish not to. When it comes up, some people say "I'd prefer not to answer" but even then you know they are hiding something."
"I never noticed," I say thinking back.
"You might hear some questioning in the Big House, or in the General's family because they are not held to as high a standard of truth as the rest of us. They don't get scanned, I mean."
"I wish I didn't get scanned. I hate it."
"Me too. Don't worry though, once you marry Travis, they won't scan you anymore. The first family is protected."
"Wait. I have been asking questions non-stop. They must think I'm terribly rude."
"No, they understand. It can't be easy to be thrust into a life you can't remember."
"I guess that's why Maggie said my curiosity drove my mother crazy."
"If you were anything like you are now, I am sure you did," she laughs.
"I am so embarrassed!" I moan. "Next time I ask a question just pinch me or something."
"Losing your curiosity that quickly huh?"
"I just want to fit in."
"Don't we all," she sighs.
Dressed and ready, Sadie and I sit down at the small dining table in my bedroom, laughing and giggling with anticipation. Maggie hovers as we eat, huffing and puffing about us behaving like silly girls. Moving about the room, she grumbles over spending the day alone with Alana, who has taken to ignoring us all to play solitaire in the drawing room. Maggie may pretend to be irritable, but I see her slip a few extra credits into Sadie's apron, so I know she isn't really that upset. Claiming she is tired of our antics, she shoos us out the door and we crash head on into Grayson as he walks by.
"I am so sorry!" I say. "I didn't hurt you did I?"
"It takes more than that to hurt me," he laughs. "You ladies have a big day I hear, out visiting the city for the first time?"
"Yes, but we will be back in plenty of time for the games and fireworks."
"You always loved fireworks," he says fondly.
"I did?"
"Yes, as kids we would all hide away on one of the balconies and watch them. We would end up staying up all night because the nanny couldn't find us."
"I would give anything to remember that," I sigh. "It's so strange to know I've had a childhood's worth of memories in this house. I feel like a ghost walking the halls."
"I know everything is different now, but someday you will remember, and when you do, things might be tough for a while. I want you to always remember that your fiancé loved you more than life then, and loves you just as much now. Cling to that if things get difficult."
"I appreciate you saying that," I say blushing. "Travis has been very adamant in his devotion; it's sweet of you to be so supportive of him."
"Not everything I do, I do for my brother. I want you to be happy as well."
"Thank you," I say as I pull Sadie down the hall. I have gotten so used to grumpy Grayson that I am not sure how to respond to kind Grayson anymore. Barely six feet away Sadie starts to giggle and I playfully shush her before falling into laughter myself. Maybe we are just silly girls . . .
"Grayson is very handsome, isn't he?" Sadie sighs, and giggles. "The brooding and drinking aside, he is probably the most handsome man in the whole city. Not that your Travis is any less handsome, mind you. Grayson just has this . . . "
"Fire?" I suggest with a smile.
"Yes," she sighs. "That's exactly it. Those eyes of his could melt even the coldest heart."
"Maybe we should let him spend some time with Alana," I tease.
"No way," Sadie laughs. "I plan on being the only maid secretly pining for him if you don't mind."
We reach the edge of the garden and at last, the city of Veracity is before me. I marvel at the fact that I have been here months without stepping a foot onto its streets. I have spent my time here staring out the windows of the big house, longing to visit all the little shops down the main road. Now I'm on my way, my pockets heavy with credits that both the General and Travis have given me.
The day is beautiful, sunny, and warm with a crisp breeze. Sadie, bless her heart, found me a gown made from a lighter material than I normally wear, and the breeze flows right through it, keeping me cool as we walk.
The city is so alive today. Flowers are blooming in window boxes and flowerbeds, brightly colored flags wave, and brilliantly dressed men and women walk the streets. It's all bright and cheery, standing out vividly against the brash whiteness of the buildings and wall that surrounds them.
The city may look optimistic and friendly, but the people are a different story. As we walk, only those dressed in green even acknowledge that we are alive. The sidewalks are busy, packed with shoppers and merchants, but no one else looks at us. They walk right past us, continuing on with their own conversations, never once meeting our eyes. It's unbelievable that I feel so isolated in such a large crowd of people.
"They act as if we are not here," I say.
"Well, we are in a different class," Sadie says. "To them we don't exist. If they passed their own children in the street they wouldn't acknowledge them. Once placed in our occupations and marriages, we are only able to socialize with the people of our own class in public. We can visit our families in private, of course."
"That seems a little strict."
"Not strict, just orderly. Fewer associates mean fewer complications. It makes sense to only make friends with the people you have things in common with. If I am married to a merchant, I wouldn't have much in common with a farmer's wife now would I?"
"I suppose not."
"Exactly. Now, the merchant and the farmer converse," she says thoughtfully. "But that is just business and conducted in the shop. When we enter one of the stores, the merchant will be happy to greet us and serve us, but on his free time, he would walk right by us like everyone else."
"I don't know," I say, considering the arrangement. "I suppose I see the logic in it, but I just don't know how I feel about the concept of segregation."
"You don't have to feel anything about it," she laughs. "It is not something to think about or dwell on. It's just the way things are. You just accept it, and be happy."
Sadie insists on visiting the bakery first, and even though we just had breakfast, I agree whole-heartedly. The shop is warm from the many ovens, and the smell of fresh bread and pastry is thick in the air. I laugh at the joyous look on Sadie's face as she breathes it all in. Taking a seat at one of the many tables, I wait for Sadie to order. She returns hauling a platter full of round pastries coated with a sticky, sugar glaze. I take a bite and nearly cry out from joy. Soft and warm on the inside, and just the tiniest bit crunchy on the outside, they melt in my mouth and have to be one of the best things I have ever eaten.
"These were popular before the Cleanse," Sadie says. "Only back then, the bakers cut a big hole in the middle so it looked like a fluffy ring. Then they packaged up all the middle pieces and sold those separately!"
"You are teasing me," I laugh. "Who would fall for something like that?"
"People were not very clever back then. Despite all their technology, they were easy to fool. Even the adults would believe anything you said, as long as you said it with a smile."
We are working our way through the tall stack of pas
tries when a jewelry stand across the street catches Sadie's eye. Stuffing the last bit in her mouth, she jumps up with a wink, running over to try on all the different belts and pins. On my way to join her, I spy a familiar face in the crowd, a handsome young man standing next to a flower cart. It's Jack! Jack is just standing right there in the middle of everything, staring right at me.
"Sadie," I say distracted, "I am going to walk over to the flower cart for a minute. I will be right back."
"Okay!" she chirps, "Just don't buy any sunflowers! I hate sunflowers!"
Jack's eyes never leave mine as I make my way to him. Although he is smiling, his body seems tense, ready to run at the slightest hint of danger. I don't blame him. I am anxious, and I am not even the one who would get into who knows how much trouble if I were caught . . . am I?
"Kat."
"Jack."
We stare at each other for a few uncomfortable heartbeats.
"You remembered my name," he says, nervously.
"From a dream," I say. "I haven't told anyone, they don't ask me your name anymore. Why are you here?"
"For you," he says, casting his eyes around the crowded street. "I made a huge, unforgivable mistake, and I want you to come back with me. I was wrong about everything, Kat, it isn't safe for you to be here."
"You are the one who told me to come!"
"I know, and I'm sorry. I didn't know the whole story then. I know this sounds crazy, but you need to come back with me. You have to trust me, the city isn't as safe as I thought."
"You kidnapped me, and wiped my memory! How can you even ask me to trust you?"
"I didn't kidnap you," he says quietly, looking around to make sure no one heard me. If they have, they aren't letting on. "I was asked to hide you. I didn't know why and I didn't ask. At least not at first."
"Right. Now, tell me this "whole story". What has changed to make you think Veracity isn't safe?"
"I can't talk about it here, come with me and I will explain everything."
"No."
"Damn it Kat! Why do you have to be so stubborn?"
"Why did you have to wipe my memory?"
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Sadie walking in our direction.
"I have to go. My friend is coming."
"Come with me." he begs. "I love you. I am sorry that I did this. I only wanted to protect you."
"I can't. I really am sorry, and I don't want to hurt you, but leaving isn't an option. I have made promises. I have a life here."
"We made promises," he pleads. "To each other. If you remember my name you have to remember at least some of our life. Tell me you don't remember loving me and I will go away."
I hesitate.
"I am not going to give up," he promises stubbornly. "I can see it on your face. You remember. That kind of love doesn't just go away. I will be back for you, Kat. I am going to make this right."
"I don't know if it can ever be made right," I say sadly.
16 – Farm
If Sadie saw me talking to Jack, she didn't mention it. I guess there are perks to the "no asking questions" rule. It isn't easy to take my mind off of him, but Sadie can tell something is off and makes a valiant effort. She drags me from one shop to another, helping me fill bag after bag full of clothes, jewelry, and every accessory you could imagine.
When every store has been visited, and we have more bags than we can carry, Sadie drags me down the street to visit the historian. Another example of an older person escaping the confines of the elder camp, Maxwell Anderson has used his seventy-five years worth of knowledge to keep himself invaluable to the General. Max's shop is a cluttered mess of books, ledgers, and paper stacked in tall piles on every available surface. Walking in, I'm assaulted by the musty smell of history and dust. Mostly dust. Max, himself, is a fragile, shriveled old thing, his brown vest and bright blue merchant's shirt loose on his brittle body. In lieu of a belt, his dress pants are cinched tightly with a thin rope knotted about his waist.
This shop has probably never been cleaned, ever. The dust is caked on every desk, table, and book. There are even faded words in the dirt where Max has taken notes in it. Row after row of floor to ceiling bookcases fill the back half of the shop. Giant cobwebs crisscross between them, creating the look of a deserted, and possibly haunted, library.
"Don't be fooled by the mess," Sadie tells me. "He knows exactly where every piece of scrap paper is in here. No one knows how he does it, and I am pretty sure that is the only reason he is still in Veracity."
"It's incredible in here, what is all this?"
"This is our history," Sadie says. "Or what we know of it. During the Cleanse the majority of the old world was purposely lost, so we only know bits and pieces from before these walls were built, but if it has happened since, it is recorded right here."
"So my life is in here somewhere?"
"Not necessarily. It takes time and credits to get your name in the history books. I doubt you ever thought about doing it when you visited. If there is any writing about you in here, it would all be second hand information from the citizens. The historian in Axiom might have something, but knowing your brother, I am sure he wouldn't let you anywhere near him."
"It drives me crazy that no one wants to talk about what my life was like before. They all expect me to just be okay with starting over fresh and somehow finding my way back to who I was. Everyone seems to think that me forgetting is actually a good thing, that the memory of my parents death would break me. Surely I am stronger than that?"
"I don't know. I do know that in the history of the new world, nothing like that has ever happened. It goes beyond what any of us thought someone could be capable of. Would you really want to risk bringing those memories back?"
"No, not really, but I feel like a prisoner of my own limitations. My whole life is gone. Am I just supposed to accept that it's for the best?"
"Would you ladies like to add your name to history?" Max's frail voice croaks from behind a stack of leather bound books. "For just a few credits, you will be remembered for all time! It's a great deal."
"Not today Max!" Sadie hollers. "You have to yell at him," she tells me. "He's practically deaf."
"Who have you got with you, Sadie-girl?"
"Katherine Winters!"
"Ahhhh, our little princess! What a joy to finally meet you in person," he crows as he hobbles out from behind the books, extending a tiny, wrinkled hand toward me. I notice a silver band around the wrist on his opposite arm. At least the history they are recording is accurate . . .
"Little princess?" I ask confused.
"WHAT?" he croaks.
"SHE WANTS TO KNOW WHY YOU CALLED HER THE LITTLE PRINCESS!" Sadie roars.
"Goodness girl! You don't have to shout."
"Oh, for mercy sake." Sadie sighs, rolling her eyes.
"I'm not supposed to talk to you, young lady," he tells me, taking my hand and patting it like you would a child's.
"Please?" I ask sweetly.
"Sorry dear. Orders are orders. Best you two scurry along now."
"You really can't tell me why you called me that?"
"Not if I want to keep my position, but that little blonde trouble maker over there can tell you. It's common knowledge, and I doubt she has been specifically warned not to."
Sadie looks up startled, and then gives the old man a mischievous smile before pushing over a pile of papers next to her.
"Oh, you heathen-child, you!" he hollers, throwing his spindly arms in the air. "I should have kicked you out the minute I saw you. You think I forgot the trouble you made the last time you were here, but I remember! Took me a month to clean up that mess. I swear if you weren't my own flesh and blood I would wipe your name right out of these books," he says waving a handful of papers in her face.
"Settle down old man," she laughs. "You know as well as I do you have nothing better to do than shuffle around filing things. All I did was add a little challenge to your day."
The old man grins
at her, hobbling over to one of the many dusty desks, carefully setting his aged body into the chair.
"Is there anything else I can do for you ladies while you are here?"
"You can't talk about me, but could you explain what happened during the Cleanse?" I ask. "I hear people mention it all the time but no one really knows what happened."
"Sure I can," he says. "That's my job."
"Well would you?" Sadie asks?
"Hush with your smart mouth you naughty thing you," he points a shaky finger at Sadie. "I'll get to the story when I am good and ready."
We wait several awkward seconds . . .
"Ok," he croaks, "I'm ready."
"Oh, for Pete's sake," Sadie mutters.
"WHAT?"
"I SAID, OH FOR PETE'S SAKE."
"Keep your voice down child, and learn to enunciate. You've got that 'twang that's hard to understand. Dirty farmer's talk it is."
"Watch yourself old man, your own son is one of those dirty farmers. Why don't you stop being difficult and tell your story?"
"Alright, alright . . . Before the Cleanse, the world was populated with more human beings than we have numbers for. They stretched from one end of this planet to the other, breeding and dying so fast that life became a blur. They raced to each milestone, so greedy to get to the next big thing that they lost sight of the world around them. Their technology was so vast, and so incredible; it would sound more like a story than real life. They had many great achievements, but had forgotten how to truly appreciate what they had, so their accomplishments were joyless and bitter.
The people of the world divided themselves into different groups, each with their own government. Every society had its own set of rules and morals, which often caused devastating wars, resulting in great famine and death for its people. Things grew even darker near the end, with the government full of power-hungry deviants who would do anything to keep their secrets. This desperation was the final piece of the puzzle for the creators of the Cleanse. It was the perfect time to introduce the scanner.
Veracity (The Seven Cities Book 1) Page 13
