by Tanya Ross
Rising Up
Book One of the Tranquility Series
Tanya Ross
Copyright © June 2019 by Tanya Ross
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
“Happiness is like those palaces in fairy tales whose gates are guarded by dragons: We must fight in order to conquer it.”
― Alexandre Dumas
Contents
1. Ember Vinata
2. Will Verus
3. Will’s Promise
4. Ember’s Loss
5. Ember’s Hope
6. Xander Noble
7. Xander’s Memory
8. Xander’s Lesson
Journal Entry #5427
9. Ember’s Exit
10. Will’s Introduction
11. Will’s Investigation
12. Will’s Salvation
13. Xander’s Win
14. Xander’s Exile
Journal Entry #5484
15. Ember’s Inventory
16. Ember’s Secret
17. Will’s 1025
18. Xander’s Independence
Journal Entry #5515
19. Ember’s Ailment
20. Will’s Lost And Found
21. Xander’s Gang
Journal Entry #5587
22. Ember’s Inquisition
23. Will’s Vindication
24. Xander’s Leadership
Journal Entry #5597
25. Ember’s Visit
26. Xander’s Journey
27. Will’s Day Off
Journal Entry #5618
28. Ember’s Exam
29. Xander’s Revelation
30. Will’s Missing Pieces
Journal Entry #2805
31. Ember’s New Assignment
32. Xander’s Plan
33. Will’s Silver Lining
Journal Entry #5592
34. Ember’s Dilemma
35. Will’s Choice
36. Ember’s Rendezvous
37. Xander’s Decisions
38. Will’s Disclosure
Journal Entry #5599
39. Ember’s Challenge
40. Ember’s Deja Vu
41. Ember’s Debut
42. Xander’s Surprise
43. Ember’s Power
Journal Entry #55101
44. Will’s Pledge
45. Will’s Stand
46. Ember’s Assurance
47. Will Rises Up
Acknowledgments
Before You Go…
Biography
1
Ember Vinata
On a perfect day in a perfect place with practically perfect people, even dreams should be perfect. At least that’s how it was in Tranquility for everyone—for everyone but Ember Vinata.
Ember’s dreams, never murky or blurred, were more real than any fantasy. The moment she fell into a deep sleep, she felt herself rise to the ceiling, sensed a force pulling her out of her body into what was another time and place, independent of hour and matter. Its vivid animation and physical awareness pulled at her mind in a tug of war.
The dreams robbed her of rest, and even though her required levels of happiness peaked each day, an inner, nagging voice reminded her, “You’ll never be pretty or truly happy if you don’t get your ‘beauty sleep.’” Those negative thoughts seemed to always intrude.
Ember knew—had always known she was different. She felt everyone’s emotions, not just her own, and that was enough of a burden. But the dreams. The dreams were horrible.
Her constant midnight companion was the same drama, night after night. The nightmare began—always—with her running. Running as fast as she could. A sinister Someone chased her, her heartbeat the beacon leading him to her. She knew he pursued her because she possessed a special ability, rare and secret, and it was this that her assailant craved. Her frantic footsteps echoed like cracked ice through a gilded building with cold, marble floors, her pursuer’s breath on her neck. She dodged mammoth books with leathery rainbow covers flying by. She reached out over and over to grab the slippery books, knowing instinctively a book could save her, but found her hands grasping only air. Finally, she melted straight into one, through its cover, landing deeply into its pages, which fanned out to cover her with safety.
Yet her black-clad, caped hunter still leaned over her, reached through, and impossibly pulled her, with one jeweled hand, out of her warm cocoon. He shoved her into a golden cage suspended in space. I know you, she thought. Yet, she searched his face, unable to determine his identity.
Without warning, her cage broke free, its pieces exploding and scattering into a stark wilderness, enveloping her in a new scene. She stood alone. A solitary sapling broke through the parched earth beneath her feet like an explosion. As it grew it gathered limbs and fire, where again, Ember saw the face of her enemy.
She wobbled, unsteady on her feet, searing heat driving her to the ground. She cowered, beads of sweat forming on her forehead. Suddenly, a whirlwind of sparkling yellow mist cascaded around her, and a strong arm pulled her to her feet. A handsome “prince”—at least that’s how she imagined him—led her by the hand. Happiness gushed through her veins until they pulsed.
Just when she thought she would explode with joy, her prince fell dead in a pool of blood.
She wakes. And each time she does, she knows. Somehow, her dreams are a terrible omen.
It was near noon, and Ember woke up, aroused by cries for help. She realized immediately, with some embarrassment, that she had been napping, and the shouts had come from her own lips. The dreams had come again, even as she dozed, after many exhausting hours spent waiting in hope for good news.
Ember Vinata sat in a neon-bright yellow-cushioned chair, the color a contrast to her black state of mind. Her mother, Talesa, lay on a stiff hospital bed, medicated on Heniprom, a treatment used at the end of life to ease suffering and pain. Right now, her mother’s ghastly illness, not her own mysterious dreams, was her biggest worry.
Her mom’s last two months had been a series of ups and downs. The “skin disorder” with its large swollen red patches appeared innocent at first. Starting with just one tiny spot on her mother’s right arm, the illness came on suddenly, without warning. Mystifying. Unfathomable. This disease of “undetermined cause” was ultimately toxic. It made its way through her mother’s system like a possessed spirit, aggressively setting up residence in every part of her body.
When Ember and her mom first arrived, they saw beauty. The hospital’s intensive treatment unit was a spa-like sanctuary. Pale pink walls whispered love and calm, while fresh sunflowers in every corner buoyed their spirits with their saffron smiles. Even the medical equipment doing the monitoring, draped in crystalline veils, was a decorator statement.
It was the first time Ember had ever seen the inside of a hospital. For anyone in Tranquility to be in a building such as this was rare. Diseases had been eradicated with the introduction of genetic engineering, called GFX, which allowed doctors to correct faulty DNA. All citizens lived to be a hundred, guaranteed.
But since Talesa was admitted three weeks ago, the room had lost its charm. Today the walls appeared faded, like a Victorian valentine left in a box too long. A food tray with sweet pudding and a filet mignon drenched in buttery sauce sat stranded on the table, each nutritional offering a solemn tease, never to b
e consumed. Unending revolutions of the clock had now created another night, and the darkness crept in bit by bit through the cracks in the shades.
Ember tried to rouse her mom. Gently shaking Talesa’s arm, Ember said with insistence, “Mom…can you wake up, please!” But the only sound she heard was the beating of her own heart.
Ember put her head in her hands, giving in momentarily to complete despair. I feel so helpless—more alone than I’ve felt in my whole life. A black hole is sucking me down… Her mother was the one who gave her life but also saw mystic strength flowering beneath Ember’s timid behavior. Where Ember was shy, her mother saw sensitivity. Where Talesa saw a young adult poised for legendary Status, Ember saw a child who only felt secure when following the rules. Her mother thought she was beautiful; she saw herself as flawed. Who would believe in her if she didn’t have her mom?
What even Ember’s mother didn’t know was that Ember was an Empath. Her gift, first of all, made her feel like a freak. From the time she was ten, she would unconsciously pick up other people’s emotions. She didn’t just have her own feelings, she actually attracted both the negative and positive moods from other people. If someone in her social environment was happy, Ember felt those same feelings. I affected her like a force. If she was around angry people, she grew angry; if she met an anxious person, it fed her own anxieties; and if she came across sadness in others, she became sad herself. The closer her relationship was to someone, the more she was flooded with their emotions. Even strangers bonded with her, sharing more information and emotions than she ever wanted to know. It was disturbing; often she couldn’t separate what she was feeling from what people around her were feeling, and this made achieving Tranquility’s Happiness Standard very difficult. She had to work extra hard at being positive.
But that was not the most bizarre thing about Ember. She could see auras around people. The colors were beautiful—red, green, yellow, purple—there were many, as the people here were good and kind. Happy, of course. However, any dark emotions and auras radiating from people around her infected her like a virus, and it hit hard.
Because of her “talent,” Ember usually chose to be alone. She’d even chosen to leave school, preferring to do independent study at home, because she didn’t want to be in a classroom full of other people. It was difficult enough to handle her own emotions.
And, there was the problem. In Tranquility, all people wore an electronic device known as the Alt on their wrists. It looked a little like the Smart Watches first introduced in the mid-2000s. But technology had come a long way. Back then, the watch kept time, measured steps, set reminders, rang for phone calls, and measured breaths per minute. Now, in the year 2120, a more advanced design measured human emotions and sent all the data to a central computer at City Hall.
This cutting-edge device was what set Tranquility apart and made its citizens special. The people’s ability to control and eliminate negative emotions was the key for people to rise up in society. The happier someone was, the more points would appear on the Alt. Negative emotions, like anger, jealousy, and sadness took points away. More Alt points equated to more Status. More points and Status bought better food, housing, and clothing.
Ember’s life depended on the Alt. That’s why her emotions—her optimism and joy—were so important. She couldn’t afford to carry around everyone else’s struggles. Her Alt points, like a compass at the North Pole, could spin out of control.
But her mother’s life? It hung, suspended. It was a matter of life and death.
2
Will Verus
Will Verus, another citizen of Tranquility, was celebrating.
Just yesterday, he was a Level Six. Today, a Level Twelve. Rising up so many levels was an unprecedented accomplishment. The story hit the Tranquility newsfeed immediately.
Four blocks south of Grand Avenue, Will stood on a deserted street corner headed to work. Running his fingers through his bleach-blond hair, he watched in disbelief as his very own face flashed up on a ten-foot mega screen elevated high above the boulevard. His picture then became reduced to a smaller window in the upper corner. An official-looking commentator loomed large on the main screen and began to recount yesterday’s events:
“Fate entered Will Verus’s life with his rescue of a young teen, age twelve, who climbed the Birds Eye Pass Bridge immediately before the 2:15 p.m. Maglev Monorail’s passing. As the Maglev sped toward the boy, Will Verus risked his own life by climbing the bridge pylons and was able to pull the boy to safety. The boy, Jesse Educari, lives in Orange Glen, and Will’s heroics allowed Jesse to return home with no injury. For this amazing rescue, Will Verus is now a recognized Tranquility VIP. He will be taking his place as a Plauditor this very day.”
Wow, he thought. High profile. A five-second wave of anxiety struck him — in, then out.
The broadcaster continued. “Remember, fine citizens. Every point on your Alt is important. You alone can rise up! You need only to concentrate on being happy. Improvements in your neighborhood, your food, your clothing, your job…it is all within you. Make it your goal to score more points today than yesterday.”
The reporter finished his broadcast for the morning by praising Tranquility’s low crime rate and encouraging listeners to have a “happy, positive day.” He adjusted his shiny silver tie and smoothed the lapels on his high-class sterling plaid jacket. He gave the common salute and signed off. The giant screen faded out and returned with images of fireworks and positive quotes and affirmations.
Other city dwellers were now, one by one, emerging out of early morning wispy fog, finally beginning to join him on the corner. He smiled at the rainbow of color they made. Their clothes heralded every Status hue. The founders of Tranquility were so creative!
He smiled at the easy way that the people of lower Status walked respectfully behind those of the higher classes. It was so orderly. No one forced their way ahead on the street. Kind of like built-in manners, he thought. A system was in place to insure proper behavior. He watched as a girl in brown fell back behind a man in orange. Level Five defers to Level Thirteen.
A few people did a double take after recognizing him from the broadcast, giving him the Tranquility salute in greeting, smiling broadly at him, or warmly praising him. He modestly waved them off. He didn’t like being an instant celebrity.
It wasn’t that Will didn’t appreciate the points, but what made him feel on top of the world was the opportunity to help another person in distress. He felt amazing in spite of the harrowing experience he had climbing the bridge and grabbing the boy.
Will noticed the streetlight signal change. The word “proceed” blinked in green to the rhythm of a conga beat. Time to be moving on.
Heads swiveled in Will’s direction as he strode around the corner to Bliss Avenue. Not only was he freshly famous, his Plauditor’s uniform made him worthy of respect and admiration.
Yet, even without the uniform, he was already used to attention. Like a reflection of his inner self, Will dazzled. His sun-kissed hair, light tan, ultra-white smile, and physically fit body would have been enough to set him apart; however, his eyes were the scene-stealer. They were like emeralds; the brilliant green color leapt from his face and sparkled.
Running footsteps broke Will’s concentration. “Will!” The unmistakable voice brought a smile to his face.
Will turned to see his best friend, Weeford, closing the gap behind him. Weeford's brilliant white grin sharply contrasted with his deep brown skin.
“Hey, buddy—what’s goin’ on?” Will called out. “You’re never out this way.”
Will had his share of friends. He had always been popular. But he preferred to spend his time with Weeford, whom he’d known since they both wore white, two five-year-old kids just starting out.
In those early childhood days, they both wore white, but today Weeford wore a pink long-sleeved t-shirt, tight jean-styled denim pants, and the required matching shoes, a basic slip-on with a rubber sole. Will didn’
t like the color. Unless it was the color of his favorite ice cream, Pink Lemonade.
Wee closed the gap between them, throwing his arm over Will’s shoulders, practically knocking him over. “Just hopin’ to catch you. Gotta congratulate you in person. You the MAN!” He patted Will on the shoulder heavily.
“No big deal, c’mon.”
Wee laughed, the noise booming out, turning heads around them. Wee never had any volume control and had a voice to match his vast size. “Yeah, it is! And look at that uniform. Wooo Hoooo! Man, oh man! It’s gonna take me a while to get used to seein’ you in that thing. You look good, even for you,” he joked, “but I just never imagined you as a Plauditor.”
Will’s uniform was an enviable piece of fashion. A smooth black suede, the jacket fit him perfectly. Across the back it boasted real silver rivets, setting off a striking, yellow stripe, marking his newly acquired Status. Stripe-matching suede also dressed up the narrow collar. The front simply zipped up, but its heavy, inch-wide sterling zipper had a “no nonsense” visual effect. On each wrist were cuffs, accented by single silver rivets on each arm. His pants were a solid black knit—the better to allow comfort and movement—but were trimmed with stripes of yellow suede over each front pocket. Inside the jacket, a smooth yellow knit shirt fit like a second skin. This suit stood out among Tranquility’s showy multi-colored clothing as a bold statement of authority.
