“We’ll have to pull over and switch into manual mode after the last field marker. These things are connected to the grid and tracked pretty closely. I wouldn’t want anyone to get suspicious about why one was headed out of town,” Helms said.
The ride was smooth, like floating through air, which made sense considering that was exactly what they were doing. Helms and Larkin chatted casually—she asked him about some field test he had taken and he proudly boasted about his high marks. She laughed at things that weren’t necessarily funny, and the stupid grin on his face never wavered.
It was hard to miss the flirtatious nature of the banter that passed between them. Carrington watched, feeling a little like she was intruding, and tried to remain very quiet.
The ride turned rough after Helms switched the vehicle into manual. It no longer floated; rather, it bounced along the dirt on wheels. He talked less and used the steering mechanism to guide the vehicle. The turns were more harsh, the movement less fluid. Still, they maintained a good rate of speed and before long they were well beyond the outskirts of town.
Carrington glanced around, trying to make out objects by starlight. Most of the ground was bare, but occasional mounds of rocks formed sharp edges, and vegetation lay scattered among some old structures that were not much more than rubble. Dirt stirred under the wheels and left large clouds behind them as they traveled farther away from the comfort of familiarity.
They charged up a small hill and Carrington could see a large abandoned building at its peak. She thought she saw light flicker in one of the windows as they approached, and she felt the vehicle slow and pull around to the side of the structure.
More vehicles came into view; people, too. Some stood watch while others filed into the building. The stars were bright enough to make out many different uniforms—other CityWatch guards and Lints, families from the Cattle Lands and Farm Lands, business owners, children—all gathered together, greeting one another as if they were family.
Helms parked his car with the others and came around to offer Carrington his hand. She climbed out of the car, shock still buzzing under her skin. Larkin tucked her arm through Carrington’s and led her into the building. People were headed down into the lower level, bundles of supplies strapped to their backs or tucked under their arms. They carried blankets to sit on, food and drink to share, and extra coats in case a breeze rushed in.
There were dim lights set every couple of feet as they moved down the stairs. Then Larkin pulled Carrington through a final arch and onto the main lower-level floor. The room opened up into what looked like an unfinished basement. It stretched deep and dark—the walls stone, the floor cold gray—but in the center a lively group of people was collecting, laughing and telling stories, sharing lights. It was unlike anything Carrington had ever seen.
Larkin found a spot toward the front of the group. Helms took a place leaning against a large beam behind them with a few other guards, all of them smiling and greeting one another as friends, not as coworkers.
Carrington managed to sit down without falling backward. How could any of this be possible? These souls looked as if they had been meeting this way for an eternity. She couldn’t pull her eyes from the crowd until they landed on an individual standing in the center of the group. She was dressed in common clothes, her hair loose around her shoulders and gold even in the dim lighting. Carrington couldn’t see her face, but she knew if she could, she would find dark-emerald eyes, light skin, and a perfect complexion. The girl definitely favored her mother over her father. Carrington blinked hard to make sure she wasn’t seeing things.
“She’s real,” Larkin said.
“That’s Arianna Carson,” Carrington whispered.
“She’s been coming to these meetings longer than me. At first people didn’t want her here, since her father could sentence all of us to a lifetime in prison, but she continued to come and others began to see that she was as hungry to hear what Aaron had to say as anyone. Now, seeing her here, people have hope that maybe things could be different someday.”
Arianna, Carrington knew, was the eldest of Ian Carson’s three daughters. Since the Authority President didn’t have a son, whoever Arianna married would be considered for the position when Ian stepped down. Arianna was only fifteen and wouldn’t participate in a Choosing Ceremony for another two years, but once married, she might have some sway over the way her husband led, if he were awarded the presidential seat. There were murmurs that change could be possible.
“You’re new. I’ve never seen you before,” a little voice said to Carrington’s right. She turned her attention away from Arianna and saw a small child, her white dress swinging to her knees, her black hair braided and draped across one shoulder. Her eyes were like blue diamonds and Carrington saw Warren in her little face. She wanted to reach out and wrap the tiny creature in a hug, but she restrained herself.
“Here,” the little girl said, holding out a small yellow flower.
“What’s this for?” Carrington asked.
“It’s beautiful, like you.” The little girl took a step forward and tucked the stem behind Carrington’s ear. She giggled and ran off before Carrington could move.
“It is a beautiful flower,” another unfamiliar voice said. Carrington turned forward and found a middle-aged man squatting in front of her. His face was tan from days in the sun, and he was unshaven, his dirty-brown hair hanging to his ears. He had a small build but didn’t seem too thin. A loose white T-shirt hung off his shoulders and brown pants covered his legs. He was every bit average looking in his plain-colored shoes and the denim jacket cradled across one arm.
Yet his eyes were extraordinary—soft brown, like warmth reaching through Carrington’s chest and touching her heart. She felt vulnerable, naked. It was uncomfortable, but she didn’t want him to look away.
“May I?” he asked, pointing at her flower. She reached up to pull it out from behind her ear and handed it to him. He gently grasped it between his fingers. He smiled at the flower, and Carrington’s heart skipped.
“Do you think this flower is beautiful?” he asked.
“Yes,” Carrington said.
“And what do you think is its purpose?”
Carrington scrunched her face in confusion. “Its purpose?”
“Why does it now sit in my hand?”
“It’s beautiful, so it was picked.”
“So it’s the picking that gives it its purpose, and its purpose is to be beautiful. Was it not beautiful before the little girl picked it?”
“Well, yes, it was.”
The strange man smiled and softly chuckled. “Exactly. It was always beautiful, even as a seed, because it did the most amazing thing!” He swirled it around in the air like it was magical, and Carrington couldn’t fight off her smile.
“What?” she asked through a giggle that surprised her.
“It grew.”
His eyes again touched Carrington’s heart, and a strange emotion swelled within her.
“I believe the flower’s purpose is not to be beautiful; it is to grow. Many seeds shrivel in the ground, but this one grew, and therefore it has been picked already, it is chosen already, it is beautiful already.”
His words tugged at something deep within and she felt tears spring up. She dropped her eyes from the man’s face and scolded herself for reacting so dramatically. He was just a silly little man. He reached out, grabbed her hand, and sweetly placed the flower in her palm.
She looked up and saw his eyes were filled with joy. He bent down and placed a kiss on her palm beside the flower and brought his head back up.
“You are as beautiful and chosen as this flower,” he said. “Welcome.”
He stood from his spot and walked to where he could face the rest of the group. Carrington glanced toward Larkin and saw that the girl’s eyes were wide with wonder. The entire room was silent. Everyone had watched her interaction with the man, and all eyes had followed him as he moved forward.
Coul
d this be the great teacher Aaron?
Carrington looked back to the flower in her palm and stared. Suddenly she found it difficult to breathe evenly and to stop the flow of tears. It was Aaron—it must be. And abruptly Carrington understood why Larkin and these others were willing to risk so much to come and hear him.
“Everything grows,” Aaron said from his new position, front and center. “All living things take a journey. A journey, for many, that consists of constant remembering and forgetting. Does a flower forget its beauty? Does a bird wonder whether or not its wings are lovely? What about those of you here—do you forget? Many of you look around this group and see the colors of your uniforms and, with each uniform, a label. That label becomes your defining characteristic, your mark on society.”
Aaron paused and started walking around to the right side of the group. “The Authority has taught you to believe that the color of your garment gives you your place. They say that in knowing your place you have peace, that easy lines can be drawn, that you can discover God’s purpose for your life. But I say that the Father tells you a different story. A story free of labels and false identity.”
He continued to circle the group, all eyes following his movements. “What if I asked you to strip off your uniform, to shed the color that gives you purpose? Would you be able to label one another then? Would you be able to pick out the guards, the workers, the Lints?”
A cluster of people near Carrington whispered, discussing these ideas.
“What then would set us apart? Man and woman, blond and brunette, short and tall, skinny and fat?” Aaron asked.
Several children in the front row giggled at his words and he smiled at them with sincere fondness. “What if you could abandon all of the labels the world has placed on you? Who would you be then?” Aaron let the question hang in the air for a long moment. Carrington was picturing herself without all the things that outlined her purpose: her place, her femininity, her failures. What would be left? Nothing. The warmth that had lit her heart was fading. Aaron’s words made little sense.
“That is the journey, my friends. The journey of discovery, the journey of life! Imagine what it might be like to truly uncover your identity—who you are outside what you have been told you must be. Perhaps if you knew that identity, you would not see uniforms when you looked at each other; you would see with clear vision.”
Aaron chuckled deep in his throat and softly shook his head. “No doubt you will soon forget how to see, forget your true identity, but that is what brings us back to the journey, my friends. Life is a journey of remembering and forgetting one’s true self. But don’t fret and be filled with fear if you forget, because only after forgetting can we remember. Yes? And each time you recall who you are, your vision strengthens.”
Aaron had come full circle and jumped up onto a large metal box that sat against the wall in front of the group. “Remember who you are!” He placed his fist over his heart and spoke in a loud voice. “I am Aaron, son of my Father, inheritor of the earth, beautiful and blameless, chosen. I am Aaron, son of my Father, inheritor of the earth, beautiful and blameless, chosen.”
The children close to the front began to giggle again as Aaron chanted this mantra. A couple of them clapped and cheered, causing the other children around Carrington to do the same.
Aaron stopped chanting, climbed down from his metal perch, and marched to a small girl who sat with her mother in the front row. He dropped down to her level and put his fist back up to his heart. The child, as if receiving some hidden message from him, followed suit and placed her own tiny hand on her chest.
“As I am,” Aaron started, “so are you. You are the daughter of your Father, inheritor of the earth, beautiful and blameless, chosen.”
The small girl smiled, jumped from her mother’s lap, and wrapped her arms around Aaron’s neck. He embraced the child and Carrington felt her skin prickle in response. It was clear Aaron believed that child was exactly as he’d said: beautiful, blameless, chosen.
He unwrapped the girl’s arms from his neck and placed her back in her mother’s care. He stood and slowly surveyed the crowd. “As I am, so are you. Know who you are, my friends. Come and see; take the journey.”
13
Isaac straightened his collar and ran his palms over his head to smooth his hair. In one short hour he would be picking his future bride and the mother of his heir. He would like to think he was the kind of man who was above frivolous worries, but that didn’t slow his accelerating pulse.
He had completed the necessary preparations; he had researched each inhabitant of the Stacks, reading over profile after profile to secure the proper choice. He had narrowed it down to a handful, and the next step was to speak with each in person before making his final decision. Isaac had done this dance before, learned the moves, followed the steps, held his partner when necessary. He hated this game but knew it was an unavoidable means to his desired end.
If there was another option for securing an heir, Isaac wouldn’t hesitate. Although he worked hard to disguise his insecurities, women had always made him uncomfortable. Their cunning glances, their sexual temptations, their insatiable need for love and affection. It had always been more than he could handle.
His mother had been the worst of all. From the moment she brought Isaac into the world she had demanded a level of love from him that was impossible to satisfy. The way she had cried when she felt lonely, even in a crowded room, or screamed at him to hold her when he was the one who needed the comfort of her embrace had confused him as a child and infuriated him as an adult.
When her delusional need for adoration wasn’t met she became violent, angry, and cruel. Had Isaac made friends in his youth, he would have been afraid to invite them over. Had he sought solace from other people, she would have shut down his interactions. Her obsession with being the center of his world could have driven him mad, had he known life could be different. Yet despite her demands he had failed to love her properly, and she died by her own hand several years before his father’s passing.
Isaac’s father told him she had been ill. He instructed Isaac to remember her only with love and respect. Isaac had begged God to help him love his mother in her grave, but even after she’d gone he couldn’t love her the way she needed.
A knock sounded at his door and an escort signaled it was time for departure. Isaac took a final glance at himself in the mirror and walked out his front door after the CityWatch guard. He climbed aboard the official vehicle and found Dodson Rogue and Enderson Lane inside.
“Good afternoon, Isaac,” Enderson said.
“Good afternoon. I was unaware I would have company,” Isaac said. The vehicle started forward and smoothly glided toward their destination.
“Well, you are traveling to my facility, so I thought my presence would be appreciated.”
Isaac forced a smile. His disdain for Enderson was nearly as great as his distaste for Dodson. Although they were fellow Authority members and extremely different from one another, Isaac found them both insufferable. Enderson was pompous and narrow-minded and invested less time in religious affairs than a man of the Authority should. It was, after all, the council’s purpose to provide the people of the city with a clear vision of God’s law, and Enderson failed on all accounts. Dodson, on the other hand, was quiet but simple in both appearance and intellect. He was easily fooled and had a temper that could make him look like a child.
“Of course. And you, Dodson?” Isaac asked, trying not to sound appalled. Appearances were important.
“When an Authority member travels outside the boundaries of the city, I want to be there. Besides, we have business at the Stacks.”
“Another Lint girl has gone missing,” Enderson said. “It appears she may have sneaked out on her own. There has been no trace of her after three days.”
“And how does this concern me?” Isaac asked.
“Either the girls have found a way out of the sealed building or they are receiving inside help.
We’ll be talking to all the CityWatch guards that patrol the Lint grounds.”
“It is standard procedure to rule out my men as participants in such impropriety,” Dodson said. “We are doing a full workup of the building as well. We’ll find the hole.”
“Or we’ll find the man,” Enderson said. “Ian has asked all Authority members to take part in the interrogation process.”
“When?” Isaac asked.
“Tomorrow morning, early,” Enderson answered.
“If we haven’t found the hole by then,” Dodson said. His face was turning an uncomfortable shade of pink. The contempt Enderson and Dodson had for one another was thinly veiled.
“Obviously,” Enderson muttered, then turned to Isaac. “I’m assuming your participation won’t be a problem.”
Isaac nodded politely. “Anything for the Authority.”
Carrington stood in a large room; a handful of Lints accompanied her. The girls had been pulled from their work in order to clean up and change into casual dresses that were nearly the same color as the gray of their uniforms. No one seemed to know why they were here, but all of them shared a similar sense of dread. It was unheard of to pull a Lint from her trade. Without further information, Carrington could only fear the worst.
The first thought that entered Carrington’s head was that they had been reported sneaking out to see Aaron. There had been several other Lints there; these girls could easily have been among them. But Larkin wasn’t in the room, and Carrington was sure that had she been found out, Larkin would have been as well. Then again, at this point nothing was certain.
Behind her present fear the thoughts and words of Aaron lingered as they had for the last twenty-four hours. Carrington had barely spoken after they left the abandoned building. She had sat silently in the back of Helms’s vehicle as he and Larkin excitedly talked about the messages buzzing in all their heads. The whir of new ideas, new freedoms, new ways of living resounded.
The Choosing Page 10
