by Jane Redd
I stared at the book in Chalice’s hands. As much as Rose’s story repulsed and scared me, my curiosity was stronger than ever. “I’ll read a few pages,” I said, the words jarring in my throat.
Chalice moved to the door and sat next to it, listening for anyone who might come along the corridor. I sat on the floor as well and leaned against my bed, deciding to read only a few pages. But I kept on turning them, one after another.
There’s no one I can talk to anymore. Neighbors spy on each other. Best friends turn each other in. Parents testify against their own children. I don’t know if this journal will ever be read, or if it will be destroyed with everything else that seems to be attracting the zealots’ attention.
I had heard of the zealots—the ones who were out of control. The government had to step in and save the people from them. I glanced at Chalice, my throat feeling thick. She nodded for me to continue, her back pressed against the door.
Tens of thousands have died—not from the incessant flooding as I might have thought, but from diseases, starvation, and destruction through mudslides.
Tens of thousands . . . later millions. I had never allowed myself to think of the deaths that must have occurred as the rain persisted and the earth underwent catastrophic changes. Sorrow came up from the hidden spaces in my soul, and my hands trembled as I turned the pages to read about the diseases. About the hunger and food rationing. But I needed to read this; needed to understand.
The light in our room had dimmed as the afternoon faded to night outside.
And then the first introduction to him.
The new edict was delivered by a man wearing an official-looking uniform—that of the new regime, or the Legislature, as they are calling it.
I discovered that I was holding my breath as I read.
When I opened the door and let in the officer, I was surprised to see he was no older than me. Probably about nineteen or twenty. He had the look of someone who had to grow up too fast and taken on heavy responsibilities too soon. Like me. I barely heard what he said as he spoke, but I did catch his name, although I won’t write it here. I couldn’t help staring up at him. His shoulders were broad, his arms long. The overcoat he wore was a little short on his wrists, as if he’d had to dress in another man’s uniform. Or maybe there weren’t enough to go around, and they had to share when they went out on official business.
Stop, I wanted to tell Rose. Stop and think. But there were still more pages to read. My heart rate quickened as Rose described their first touches, their first kiss, what they said to each other.
We hid among the trees, eating apples. That’s when he leaned over and wiped the juice from my lips and kissed me.
My face burned as I read. The emotions that Rose described were so close to the ones that I had worked to suppress. Emotions that I’d never let fully develop. But Rose hadn’t suppressed hers. She’d embraced them.
Rose described how they met in secret, always hiding from others. Even though I blamed her for being so foolish for falling in love in the first place, I couldn’t stop reading. Until the next words came.
I am pregnant.
I stared at the word: pregnant.
We’d been taught about the old ways of reproduction, when men and women produced children without regulation, without prefertilized eggs or controlling implantation. Children were conceived randomly, and there was no testing done after to gauge the best chances of survival and fitness. Infants who had disfigurements or other ailments weren’t Taken, but allowed to grow up among society.
Reproduction and birthing were never discussed outside of class. We learned about it in twelfth year and left the rest of the details to the B Level. Women in the B Level were allowed to undergo in-vitro once they’d passed the caretaker exams and found a commitment partner.
Was Rose in the B Level society then? If this was the year 2061, then the population mandate had already been enacted. Everyone knew that was one of the first rules established by the Legislature so they could get the rampant diseases under control.
I can’t tell him about the pregnancy. It would be too hard for him to hide such news. I’ll have this child in secret, and my mother says she will pass it off as her own and take whatever punishment that might entail, since there has been a population mandate in effect for two years now.
I knew it. My pulse throbbed in my throat as I continued to read.
No one has any idea when the mandate will be lifted. So many children have died from malaria and other diseases from the damp. Even married couples must use contraceptives. It’s very difficult to get a marriage license, and if you obtain one, children aren’t allowed until the mandate is lifted.
I glanced over at Chalice. She was sitting on the ground with her back against the door. “She became pregnant,” I said, my throat strangely tight.
Chalice nodded, but didn’t say anything. She pulled her knees up and wrapped her thin arms around them.
I continued to read, my heart heavy as Rose wrote about her first weeks of nausea and how many times she feared being discovered, but she still refused to tell her boyfriend. Another blow came during that time, with the death of her “father,” who’d been suffering from one of the damp diseases.
Then a new mandate:
Today, he came to our home, on business from the government. I could hardly keep my eyes from him, but forced myself to stare at the floor. A new system of fortification has been installed by the Legislature. A system where they can control us, at least that’s the way I see it. Everyone is to report to the health clinic where each person will undergo a small surgical procedure and have a Harmony implant placed into their shoulder.
I do not trust the Harmony. They say it’s perfectly innocuous, but I don’t believe them. I won’t get the Harmony implant, and they cannot force me.
The Harmony implant. Had she really refused to get it? I turned the next page.
They forced me. Used drugs to knock me out, and now I bear the Harmony scar like every citizen. But something curious happened and it didn’t work like it was supposed to. I still have the same emotions. Even stronger, perhaps. I could pretend to be like everyone else, but then I am a fraud, and I refuse.
I read the words again. From what I could tell, she didn’t have the second implant—the key—yet.
Something else happened. When I was coming out of the drugged state, I overheard a conversation between two doctors. It seems there is an underground building project that will be reserved for emergency purposes. If the rain never stops, there is a plan to create more land surface by building higher mountains. Something about generators. I’m determined to discover the plan.
My heart thumped as I read, not knowing if I really wanted to continue. This was the beginning, so many years ago, and whatever Rose had hoped for the future hadn’t yet come to fruition.
I have joined up with the Carriers. I’m not sure how many of us there are, but we each carry a key that will activate the generators. A new hope for the future. It will be dangerous, but if things get too desperate, it will provide a new beginning. We will take back our humanity from the Legislature. Whoever can bring a stop to the rain will be the new leaders. If the Legislature gets control of the keys, then they will stop the rain, but they will continue in their absolute control, too afraid of the power of human emotion to disable the Harmony implants. We must destroy the Legislature, activate the generators, and give back dignity to the people. We must never let the Legislature know how much power we have.
It was all there. Rose and the other Carriers knew what they were up against. They’d started a plan to take over the Legislature, then to stop the rain. Even if it had been accomplished in Rose’s lifetime, it would take generations for the earth to restore itself to even half of what it once was. The earlier generations would need to make all of the sacrifices for the benefit of the later generations.
I thought about what else Rose had said—there were more Carriers than just herself. Who had started the movem
ent? And how many Carriers were left?
I was caught trying to cut out my Harmony implant. Carriers everywhere have been executed for one reason or another as they refuse to conform. If the Legislature knew these rebels were carriers, there would be an all-out war. I await my own trial now. And although I know there is no hope, I’ll walk proudly to the judges’ council. I may die because I believe in the power of love and the power of choice. No matter what they say, I still believe that people are good and can make right decisions. I believe the world can find redemption if given a chance. I refuse to tell them where I put the Carrier key. And I refuse to name the father of my baby—the Council will discover I’m pregnant soon enough when my belly grows in prison. My mother has promised to put in a petition to raise the child as her own in case I am not released. If I am sentenced to execution, I’ll tell my mother where this journal is. I’ll tell her about the key and where I’ve hidden it.
The writing ended, and I leafed through the remaining blank pages, wondering how long she lived after that. If Rose had only followed the rules, she would have had many more pages of her life to write about. But where would that leave me? Naomi wouldn’t have been born, and I wouldn’t be here, either. Maybe none of the keys would have been passed down, and I wouldn’t be a Carrier.
My own grandmother had turned her back on the Legislature. She’d ignored the rules that were for her benefit. And my mother was a product of that. A shiver passed through me like a warning. So am I.
As if to match my mood, the rain came in thick torrents, slamming against our single window. The lamppost light cut through the darkness, but did nothing to dispel the feeling of gloom.
I looked up at Chalice. Her mouth was pulled into a tight line, and she gave me a single nod. “I saw you reading the book last night when you thought I was asleep. So I waited until you fell asleep and then I read it, too,” she said in a low voice. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my business.”
Surprisingly, I didn’t feel mad, or betrayed—only worried. “You shouldn’t have. Now we can both get into trouble.”
Chalice lifted a shoulder. “Not more than I did wearing this.” She held up her hand, displaying the metal ring.
“Why are you still wearing that?” Apparently Chalice hadn’t learned her lesson in Detention. Or . . . I studied her. She was courageous. Fearless.
She was silent for a moment before she spoke. “It’s not why you think. I’m not ready to go over the edge and get myself Demoted. This ring brings me comfort, that’s all.”
“It’s just a piece of metal; how can that be comforting?” After reading about Rose’s stubbornness, I couldn’t bear to see Chalice act the same way, to take the same risks.
Chalice’s expression was blank, impossible to read. How could she believe in any of the ancient religions when they had corrupted so many people?
As the silence filled with the driving rain outside, I closed my eyes, thinking of Rose’s final words.
If I am sentenced to execution, I’ll tell my mother where this journal is. I’ll tell her about the key and where I’ve hidden it.
Rose didn’t have to die so soon. Even now, thirty-seven years after her death, no Carrier had activated the generators. And the Harmony implants had protected the city from rebellions, saving many lives. Was that so wrong?
Naomi’s voice popped into my mind. You have been taught one way of thinking. But I will teach you another way.
I put the book back in the satchel; I’d find a place as soon as possible to dump the thing. I didn’t want to be caught with Rose’s words. She had died because she followed her feelings, and that would be my fate too if I didn’t learn to suppress mine.
I opened my eyes and exhaled. Chalice was looking at me. “Sorry about your grandmother,” she said.
“She knew she was breaking the rules.” I kept my voice hard, hoping to harden my heart as well, to push my emotions into a far corner. I couldn’t let Chalice know that I was sympathetic, and scared.
“She was only following her beliefs,” Chalice said.
“Sometimes a single person’s beliefs contradict what’s good for the whole.”
Chalice released a sigh and climbed to her feet. “You sound like an ethics lesson.”
Yes, I did. I shrugged for Chalice’s benefit.
“What do you think happened to the man she loved?” Chalice asked, settling on her bed across from me. “Do you think he ever turned himself in?”
“I doubt it.” I was suddenly tired. I didn’t want to be in the same room with the book anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with it. I didn’t want Rose’s sad words echoing around in my mind, and I didn’t want to discuss it with Chalice, with anyone. We had been speaking quietly, but what if our room was being monitored? And what if Chalice decided to report me for keeping the book as long as I had?
I looked away from Chalice, toward the dark window, thinking of Rose’s boyfriend. She hadn’t mentioned his name, so it would be impossible for me to research, even if I wanted to. Which I didn’t.
Rose had a chance to conform. Everyone knew the rules—right from the first classroom until our end cycle. They protected all of us from ugly lives of crime, dishonesty, immorality. From repeating the past.
My grandmother had deliberately broken the rules, and she wasn’t afraid. Did I have the same courage? I didn’t know.
Chalice was watching me, her face pale in the dim light and the circles beneath her eyes looking even darker. “I’ll see if I can find something to burn the book with.”
At least she agreed with me on that. As Chalice reached the door, I said, “Be careful.” The image of Sol being carried away was still haunting me.
With Chalice gone, I stood before the window and stared out at the falling rain. I clutched the book in my hand, refusing to open it again. I didn’t want to think of Rose’s life of chaos and uncertainty, her world of constant death and the way she must have watched entire cities being destroyed.
Behind me, the door slid open. “Back already?” I said as I turned.
But it wasn’t Chalice. Two inspectors entered my room, eyes trained on the book in my hands like they’d seen it right through the door. One of the inspectors held an agitator rod.
A flash of heat bolted through me, and it only took an instant to realize what had happened. It was as if I’d stepped outside my body and was looking down at my writhing limbs. My scream cut off when everything went dark.
Nine
Cold and hard. The first sensations of feeling crept into my spine and brought me back to consciousness. Had I fallen off my bed? Tripped in the school yard? Then I remembered. The book. The agitator rod.
I dragged my eyes open. My mouth tasted acrid, and my body felt as if I’d run nonstop for hours, leaving me with no strength to move. The room I was in was smaller than my dorm and had no windows. It glowed faintly with a pale yellow, as if the sun filtered in from somewhere, yet there was no heat and no lighting system.
Like a prison. Had Rose felt like this? Alone, cold, in pain? I tried to block out her out, along with the unforgiveable rules she’d broken.
Someone whispered my name, “Jez.”
I turned my head toward the wall next to me in the direction of the sound. There was a sliver of light coming beneath it. Was it a door? I pressed my hand against it. Solid rock.
“Jez, is that you?”
Sol.
I inhaled, wincing at the pain in my chest. The air passing through my lungs hurt—breathing hurt. “Yes.” I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, trying to get a handle on the pain. Why did my throat hurt so much? Why was Sol in the next room? Was this Detention?
“What’s wrong, Jez?” the whisper came. “What did they do to you?”
“They . . . shocked me with an agitator rod,” I said, having difficulty keeping the soreness out of my voice.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I . . . don’t know.” I rolled over, facing the wall. A shadow shifted in the space
of light. Sol was on the other side. “Where are we?” I said.
“Detention.”
I nearly laughed, but choked instead, and tears sprung to my eyes. I had done everything I could for years to stay out of Detention, and now, less than a week before Separation, here I was. The stone ground was cold beneath me and the rough walls were like nothing I’d ever seen.
“Can you remember anything?” Sol’s voice again. It sounded as if he was whispering in my ear.
What did he mean? Of course I could remember.
“I’m sorry,” I said, the cold floor causing me to shiver. “You shouldn’t be here.” I had to think of a way to exonerate Sol. It was my fault he was here.
His voice cut into my thoughts. “Jez, this is very important. Do you remember why you were shocked?”
I took a few more breaths, and my pain seemed to stabilize as long as I didn’t move. “My inheritance was an illegal book. I should have turned it in right away.”
“This is the book you told me about in the classroom?”
“Yes,” I asked. “I’m sorry I said anything to you. What . . . what did they do to you?”
But he didn’t answer my question. “You remember talking to me in class?”
“Of course.”
“You were shocked with an agitator, Jez. You aren’t supposed to remember.”
I let the information sink in. The Harmony implant didn’t work, and now this. “The agitator was supposed to destroy my memory?”
“Just your memories over the last day or two,” Sol whispered. “It’s a method commonly used by the Legislature. Many times it’s enough to deter the person from committing more criminal acts. They forget, and with the lost memory, their desire to rebel fades.”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Did they consider me a criminal now? Did they think I’d rebel? Would I be Demoted after all? And why didn’t the agitator rod work on me? Was it because of the key?
