“This will be quick,” Enderson said. “I expect the session to progress without complication or interruption.”
No introduction, no welcome, just straight to business. Carrington took a deep breath and tried to silence the pounding of her heart.
“This morning you will be given a list of rules that are to be followed explicitly. Should you feel inclined to apply your own interpretations to them or observe them selectively, you do so with the acknowledgment that punishment is meted out with a heavy hand. It is essential for the well-being of your kind and of the entire community that the Authority Worker Stacks run seamlessly. It is also crucial that you regard your trade as your utmost priority and give it the respect it is due.
“Your trade assignment will be based on your physical condition and your rank. These assignments, once given, are never to be questioned.” Enderson’s face pulled tight and stern as he continued. “I cannot emphasize enough the importance of compliance without complaint. Your future and your purpose are tied to the trade you receive, and you should treat it accordingly. We monitor all trade activity and expect each of you to excel in your performance. Anything less will not be tolerated. Is that clear?”
“Yes, Authority Lane,” the girls said in unison. Carrington wished her voice had a semblance of strength instead of the meek tones of a scared little girl.
“The rest of the morning will proceed in the following manner: Lead Authority Worker Neely will rehearse the rules with you. I suggest you memorize them quickly. You will then be led to the clinic, where you will have your physical. These evaluations are repeated monthly. Once your physical is complete, you will meet with me to receive your trade assignment.
“You will be expected to report to your trade hub promptly tomorrow morning. As God set forth the law, so the law must be obeyed.”
The room repeated the phrase and then fell quiet.
Carrington watched as Authority Lane left the room, his cane gripped tightly at his side, his shoes once more echoing off the hard floor. Each step hammered the terrible reality further into her heart. The door shutting hard behind him provided a final blow, driving her dread deep enough to split her heart in two.
7
Isaac stood outside his wife’s hospital room. He watched as the young male nurse unplugged the single machine that had been keeping her alive. His wife had told him once that she feared death. That when she closed her eyes she could see the monster coming for her—a black beastly serpent that could easily snap her bones before swallowing her whole. She had begged him then to make sure that the doctors tried to revive her if she passed into the next life.
He hadn’t mentioned her request.
The nurse stepped out of the room and gave Isaac a mournful look. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Authority Knight.”
Isaac nodded because keeping up appearances was necessary. He sent the young man away so he could have a moment alone with his dead bride. He stepped into the room and walked to the side of her bed. Her eyes were closed, her once-olive skin now ghastly pale. He tried to feel pity for himself, to feel remorse for his loss, but his marriage had been a disappointment, and he surprised himself with the emotion that did rise to meet him: relief.
Isaac had married Abney seven years ago because it was required of him to take a bride. At the time his father was sitting in the Authority seat as head of religious affairs. Isaac knew one day the role would be his and that he would need a son to continue the family line. Abney had been the most logical choice. Smart, upper class, beyond beautiful, elegant, full of grace. She had been highly sought after, but no other suitors had Isaac’s status, and he’d chosen her.
They’d been married nearly three years when the doctors confirmed that she was incapable of bearing children. He had not hated his wife for her uselessness—hate was not a godly emotion—but her inability to be of use presented a problem. At the time, his father had been close to death, and Isaac knew the responsibilities of the Authority seat would soon be his own. If Isaac had no son who could carry on the family name, his rule would die with him, and he couldn’t have that.
He couldn’t calculate the number of hours he had begged God for answers. He was more righteous than most, maybe than all; he had committed himself to religion above all other things and understood that the holy book was food for the soul. He had found his faith strained as he’d struggled to see God’s hand in his wife’s barrenness. He knew now that God had been testing him. It was time to change the world, to bring it back into the holy light of righteousness.
Isaac brushed the deceased woman’s cheek and marveled at the utter stillness of death, the pronounced finality of it; yet he was certain this was in line with his calling.
Praise be.
Carrington was directed into a large oval office by a Lint who looked lifeless. Carrington imagined that this was what happened to every girl in the Stacks—in time, they lost any hope for life. The Lint shut the door behind her and left Carrington alone in the room with Authority Lane.
The physical had been lengthy but easy, and it had given Carrington ample time to work herself into a complete panic. Receiving a trade was no small thing. It defined the rest of a Lint’s existence. None of the trades were desirable—they were the jobs other citizens avoided but which were essential to functional living. However, some trades were better than others.
Carrington waited for Authority Lane to look up from his desk and give her instructions. He poked at something on his desktop monitor and grimaced before lifting his head.
“Sit,” he ordered, pointing toward two chairs opposite him. She moved quickly and tried to remain calm. She didn’t want him to think she was incapable of composing herself.
Authority Lane scanned the information compiled on his screen. The monitor emitted an eerie blue glow that made the room feel ominous.
“Carrington Hale—is that right?” Authority Lane asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good physical attributes; physical results confirm excellent health.” He paused and finished interpreting the information. Carrington wished she knew what he was seeing, how the computer was sizing her up.
“Tell me what happened at your Choosing.”
Carrington wasn’t prepared for his question and it hit her like a brick.
“I’m just curious because, by all accounts, you should have been a clear choice—well liked by all your teachers, top tier, excellent scores. It almost seems as though there has been some mistake.”
She dropped her eyes to her lap and battled her rising sorrow. She struggled through the screaming in her head to find a logical response.
“I’ve seen this before, Carrington. A seemingly perfect choice, and yet here you sit without any clue as to why.”
“Yes.”
“I have some information here that may put some of your questions to rest. You had seven suitors spend time with you and your family. Four of them sought out Authority counsel. Two of those narrowed their choices down to their top two, excluding you. The other two had you as a top candidate.”
Carrington felt her pulse quicken. She had been a top choice in two different cases. Maybe there had been a mistake.
Authority Lane stood from his desk and slowly made his way toward her. “The reason I bring this up is because you need to understand that some girls come in here with the idea that something somewhere went wrong. They imagine that they aren’t to blame; they foolishly believe the system, the law, was corrupted somehow.”
He was now beside her, and he reached for the chair to her right. “You see, this kind of thinking breeds discontent. It affects your work, which affects those around you. That leads to a disruption of the status quo—the system of conformity we rely on from Authority Workers.”
“I wouldn’t—”
“No, you won’t.” He sat, his face closer than Carrington cared for. “You won’t because from this moment on you will realize one truth: this was not a mistake. There was no error. This was inevitable,
and you belong here.”
He spit the daggers, one after the other, right into Carrington’s face. She wanted to rip her eyes away from his daunting stare, but she couldn’t. She sat pinned by the weight of self-rancor.
“I expect your complete cooperation, your utter devotion to your trade. Understand that your usefulness rests in your ability to perform. You’re a smart girl, so I am certain we will never have to have a conversation like this again, correct?”
Carrington shook her head and blinked away her tears.
“Excellent. Because of your top rank, you will be working in factory maintenance. You will report to the Farm Lands first thing tomorrow.” Authority Lane stood and walked back around the desk. Carrington stood as well and waited to be dismissed.
“Any other questions?” he asked.
Carrington did have one, but fear was keeping the words tied inside her mouth. Still, she knew she’d never have another opportunity, and she thought maybe if she knew the answer she could find a way to sleep at night. Her courage paper-thin, she nodded.
“Yes?”
“So that I may be aware of my shortcomings, do you know why I was not chosen by either candidate?”
Authority Lane gave her a curious glance, but then turned his eyes back to the report before him. “Neither gave a reason. My guess is you just weren’t enough.”
Carrington bit her tongue to distract her brain from the pain gathering in her chest. Authority Lane dismissed her, and she used all her restraint to walk rather than run from his office.
Once past the Lint standing by the door, she couldn’t keep her legs from dashing away. She pushed through a side door and felt the warm smack of sun across her face, a sharp contrast with the cool air. She gasped for breath and tried not to fall into a crumpled ball in the dirt. Tears poured down her cheeks, making the loose hair around her face stick to her skin.
Why had she asked? It had been better when she thought she had done something wrong. But to have done her best and still be trapped in this place? Nausea rolled in her gut. She had remained Unchosen because she simply wasn’t enough. The thought melted into her head and burned at the insides of her skull. Her mother was right: she was a complete disappointment.
“Miss?” a voice said.
Carrington turned to see a CityWatch guard standing a couple of feet away. Fear choked her breath, but then she recognized his kind eyes. He was the guard from the line. She didn’t know him—he might be as cruel and vile as the others—but something in her softened and relaxed.
“I’m sorry—I’m going back inside,” Carrington said. She viciously wiped away the tears on her face and scolded herself for being so weak.
“Are you al . . . al . . . all right?” the guard asked.
Carrington noticed the struggle on the guard’s face as he spoke. He was tall with dark-tan skin, a strong jawline, and black shoulder-length hair. His shoulder span seemed to be twice as wide as Carrington’s body, yet she didn’t feel an ounce of intimidation. From his size alone, she had no trouble believing he could be violent if he chose, but he was acting as if he cared.
“Yes, I’m fine,” she said.
He nodded and walked back to the door she had just come through. He opened it and waited for her to enter. She did, and he gave her one last nod before softly shutting her inside.
Carrington kicks her little feet back and forth as she hums. They are still inches from the ground, but her mother tells her she will be able to touch one day. She is reviewing the truths her mother makes her memorize and wishes her daddy would come home so she can go play outside. He has told her mother that she is too young to start working on her truths, but her mother insists it’s better to be ahead.
It isn’t that Carrington doesn’t like learning the six truths; in fact, she loves to learn and can’t wait to start her practicing lessons, but right now she just really wants to play.
“Let’s go over number one again,” her mother says. She is sitting beside Carrington at their kitchen table. Her mother’s dark hair is pulled up on top of her head the way she wears it most days, and her tiny silver earrings sparkle in the sun. Carrington once asked her mother when she will get a pair of earrings, and her mother said when she graduates from her first practicing lesson. That isn’t for another three years, which is an eternity, and Carrington wishes time would move faster.
“Carrington, are you listening?”
“Yes, Mother. I just don’t want to do this anymore.”
“Well, life will be full of things you don’t want to do, and this is more important than anything you do want to do. Do you understand?”
Carrington shakes her head and dramatically throws her head down onto her arms, resting on the table.
“You will be six this summer; you are old enough to start learning what is required of you to be chosen.”
“What if I don’t want to be chosen?”
“Hush! All girls want to be chosen. God commands it. Otherwise, you’ll live a life of solitude, never to be a wife or have children. Would you rather have that?”
“But why do I have to work to be picked? Why can’t I just pick for myself without all this work?”
“Because that is not the law.”
“It’s a stupid law,” Carrington says under her breath.
“Carrington Hale, you will not speak about the law this way. The law saved our race, our people. You wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for the Authority and the true law.” She lifts Carrington’s head to look her in the eyes as she continues. “After the Ruining, the world was a toxic place. Robert the Holy and his Authority built us a place to exist in. He ruled with the Veritas, teaching us all how to live by the ways of God. For the last 150 years, the Authority has been keeping this a safe and peaceful place. The Choosing is for the good of everyone.”
Carrington looks at her mother, her eyes filled with concern. “It doesn’t really feel that way.”
Her mother shoves her chair back and pulls the little girl into her lap. “I’ve heard stories of a time when the Choosing didn’t exist. Everyone chose for themselves. People were joined and then ended their commitments; women didn’t marry until they were too old to have children, some deciding never to have children. People in committed relationships were unfaithful; people fought over one another. Some people even intentionally came between spouses. There was a harmful idea that you could have whatever you wanted, anyone you wanted. Society lacked peace, and the people were full of jealousy and hate. Does that sound like a place you would like to live?”
Wide-eyed, Carrington shakes her head.
“You know what keeps us from going back there?”
“The Authority?”
“That’s right, the Authority and their true laws. Be grateful, my sweet daughter, that you do not have to live in such a dreadful place.”
“Will I get chosen?”
Her mother chuckles and places a kiss on the top of Carrington’s head. “Of course you will, and the one who chooses you will love you and give you children to love, just as I have you.”
Carrington smiles and wraps her tiny arms around her mother’s middle. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, but you still have to practice your six truths.”
“Can I please go outside?”
Her mother hesitates for a moment and then smiles. “Once more through and then we’ll go.”
Carrington claps in excitement and jumps down from her mother’s lap and back up into her own seat.
“From truth number one,” her mother says.
Carrington’s eyes snapped open and darkness filled her vision. She was back in the Stacks, where she had fallen asleep only hours earlier; she was no longer the five-year-old girl dreaming of playing out in the sun. She stayed on her side in her bed and heard the familiar sound of her roommate’s snore. There was no hint of sunlight coming through the window, which meant it was still very early morning.
She rolled onto her back and tried to make out the ceiling
above her. Nothing. The darkness was too thick. The memory stung like a wasp trapped inside her head, and Carrington tried to think of something else. She didn’t want to remember her mother that way, didn’t want to remember being young and full of hope. Get it together, Carrington. This is your place—time to accept it.
She knew her inner voice was right, and she clenched her teeth hard enough to make them ache. She would shut it off. Shut it all down. She would sleep, and then she’d be too numb to feel anything. She wouldn’t cry; she wouldn’t mourn; she’d just be numb.
He watched her slip down the slope from where he stood in the darkness. It was far past curfew.
A rule breaker—his least favorite kind.
Not that he favored any. He felt little emotion toward them in general. They were a nuisance—like flies buzzing around in the middle of a sweltering day. It would be just as easy to eliminate them, but God had created all things, had He not? Maybe they could be taught to be useful, to buzz only when told.
The young brunette looked behind her to make sure she wasn’t being followed and continued into the night.
She clearly feared getting caught; the punishment for betrayal of the Authority’s rules was gratifyingly brutal, something he once lived for. Now he found his feverish appetite was appeased more wholly if he took matters into his own hands. His was a mission of redemption, after all. Save those who can’t save themselves.
Even the flies.
It was the holy mission: to cleanse the world and all those in it, to shine light into darkness and wage war against the filth, against the unholy creatures under his power. Patience was needed when doing holy work, so he would wait until the time was right before snatching the fallen and beginning the cleansing. All as it was intended.
The Choosing Page 5
