by Tanya Ross
“Do I have a choice?”
Xander looked at the thing on the table. About four inches tall and a foot long, it was actually beautiful. Down its center was a purple stripe with a faint checkered pattern lit from within. Each side of the stripe had panels that glowed pink, while the base was illuminated by a turquoise light. What faced him was a lens. Its circle of mint green was like a shiny eye, with two black cylindrical knobs on either side. Two other buttons above the lens on both the right and the left side reminded him of what a primitive robot’s eyes might look like.
“Your choice is to remain in Tranquility…or not.” Win sighed, as if this was a delicate decision. He stared Xander in the eyes, finally dropping his gaze as if burned by the fire there.
“Okay—let’s see what ya got, Sir.” Xander wondered if the Neuroscope was already measuring his defiance. But, okay. He had nothing to hide because he didn’t care. Xander closed one eye, examining showy colored gems hung on the wall. They were as big as his head. He squinted, trying to estimate the difference in measurement between them. Five inches apart, he thought. Perfect, of course.
Win’s voice filtered back to him. He wondered how many minutes the guy had droned on before he tuned back into what he was saying.
“…a lot of sessions. Now we need to take you back through your whole life, Xander. We need to explore how your anger is rooted in your childhood. I’m going to ask you now to search your memory. A time when you first felt a challenge to following the behavioral expectations in Tranquility.”
Xander watched a gnat briefly land on Winslow’s face. No matter how perfect Tranquility was, it couldn’t get rid of pesky little insects like that one. He marveled that Winslow didn’t seem to even feel it. He smiled to himself, wondering how long the bug would crawl around there without Winslow breaking the conversation to deal with it. The gnat was a lot like himself. Just like they can’t get rid of how I want to feel, he thought.
Winslow said, “The Neuroscope will measure your thoughts and feelings and your vital signs, like the Alt. It’s in your best interest to be as open as possible.” Winslow gestured with his hands, as if trying to impart more wisdom through them.
Yep. The gnat was still there, and Winslow droned on.
“When the Neuroscope’s numbers accelerate, that will show me what the actual triggers are for your…um…disorder. So, Xander, let’s think of that moment when you first noticed that your emotions became a problem.”
Xander remained silent, still trying to buck the system, the moments ticking by one by one. But as hard as he tried, there was no stopping the process. An invisible force pulled on strands of his brain; he was being hijacked. The system locked in on his subconscious.
A scene immediately came to his mind, and he began to talk. He didn’t want to. The words just flowed out. “I was 13…All of the students at Felicitous Middle School earned extra time at lunch for ‘kind and considerate behavior’ and for showing their ‘smiling faces’ all week long. I was stoked about having the long lunch hour…”
Winslow tapped his fingers on the table. “Now that we have that memory at the surface of your mind, the Neuroscope will project your Alt readings on the screen. The entire experience you are envisioning will follow.” A wide, electronic screen hidden behind a panel in the Purge room revealed itself, dropping down and rolling out to cover the wall in front of them. “Both of us will be able to see exactly how this event happened, Xander.”
Xander squirmed, feeling overexposed, like being hit with a spotlight while totally nude. He watched in wonder as the once private memory began to roll along as an historical biopic…
Twenty kids sat in a classroom at white desks. Each student was synching their Alts to the screens on their desks and to one on the wall.
“Shazz! That’s my middle school classroom, he reflected. That takes me back…” Positive words and instructions for proper breathing techniques for stress relief were on the board. “Ah…it’s Empowerment Strategy day,” he realized. The teacher—oh, yeah, Mr. Dictus droning on… “With each increase in Status comes more responsibility” …. “Thirteen-year-olds are no longer considered children,” and “Each young person has to be analyzing emotions” … “Eye those Alt results carefully throughout the day…”
Xander closed his eyes, but it didn’t dissolve the image in his mind…
A large display board in his now virtual middle school classroom emerged from the ceiling with bright and bold colored lights. Students’ points flashed up on it in both numbers and pictures. Xander saw his own scores on the Leaderboard; his were at the bottom, of course. Whatever.
The name and scores of the best performing student were at the top of the board: Ember. Xander snickered in real time, noting the excitement on Ember’s face. What a kiss-ass, he thought.
“Congratulations, Class,” Mr. Dictus said. “A moment ago, I viewed the live tracking of your Alts. You’ve reached a class total of 1000 points today. You can see how working hard pays off, especially when you are all so happy about that hard work! You’ve earned extra time at lunch.” He put two thumbs up in the air and slapped the table next to him with gushing exuberance. “You are dismissed! We’ll see you all back here for an exciting and uplifting afternoon studying history.”
The Ember girl, her face glowing like moonlight, turned to another female student seated next to her. “I’m so glad we get more time at lunch. I can practice my visualization skills to impress Mr. Dictus!”
The other girl smiled and nodded enthusiastically. “You wanna practice together? We could eat lunch and then…”
“No thanks, Lorna…but you have a great lunch…” Ember grabbed her brand-new lunch pail from its resting place on the floor and rushed out the door to the crowded eating area. On her way, she called out to others. “Hi, Jexa—I love that new outfit! Hey, Toff! How’s it going? I heard you aced our math test.” Her voice vibrated with fondness. Some students lobbed back a few positive compliments of their own before going on their way. Other students responded with smiles and waves, followed by the upward arm gesture, their single index fingers creating a zoo of Number Ones, a gesture of trust and acceptance.
Xander hooted as he watched the scene from his virtual reality chair. Ember was throwing out those stupid comments just to score more points for herself. As if she actually heard him from the future, she slowed her steps and checked her Alt for her current reading. This was getting more and more entertaining. He realized he was not only getting to relive his own memory, but he was seeing what went on behind the scenes that day.
Ember stopped to admire some artwork in a display box window, making sure she left encouraging comments on the guest log. Her Alt must have pinged then; she looked down at it and smiled. She walked further along the sidewalk under the shade of the corridor cover and made her way to the end where it stopped at a broad wall. She stepped onto iridescent tile in front of a four-foot by eight-foot mirror illuminated—even by day—with clear, crystal light bulbs.
“Welcome, Ember, Level Three. Your clothes are neatly pressed today, and your smile is bright. Have a most perfect day.” The mirror’s voice had a bell-like sound, crisp, and soothing to the ear.
There she adjusted her skirt and removed a brush from her bag, dreamily running it through her strawberry blond hair. Returning her brush to her bag, she pulled out a pair of round framed sunglasses with beige rims and slipped them on, pausing to admire how they looked in the mirror. She glanced around and moved away, now dedicated to impressing the world. But instead of walking out into the main quad, Ember walked out of the open corridor and around the building away from the students. Their bulging masses congregated around the soda fountains and ice cream dispensers.
Winslow’s voice intruded. “Keep watching carefully, Xander. I don’t want you to miss what’s important here.”
At Winslow’s prompting, Xander continued to study her moves. She kind of looks like a spy, he thought. She’s looking around and ducking behind a buil
ding! Ah—it’s the Yoga Studio. It’s pretty isolated back there… He had to admit, though, he could relate. He had also sought daily retreat from the crowds.
She thoughtfully removed her sunglasses, placing them next to her, settled herself on the ground and opened her lunch pail, pushing buttons within the lid. Within two minutes, layers of different substances created real fare on their own within the lunch pail’s interior. It was the perfect result of 3D printing and nutritional analysis provided by her Alt.
She’s happy by herself. No real friends, though, he guessed. Shade from a lonely tree embraced the space, and it was quiet as a bug’s whisper.
Within a moment, he watched himself step out from behind a shade-shrouded wall in front of Ember, as if he were making an entrance as an actor in a dramatic play. He smiled at the way his clothes defied the rules; his eyeliner was painted on thickly; and his black hair, accented with purple, rocked.
“What’s up?” he blurted out.
Ember jumped and put her hand to her chest. Her face went pale. “Shazz! You scared me to death!”
“Didn’t mean to, of course.” His voice was blustery and loud.
Ember’s brow furrowed, and she stepped back. “What…what are you doing back here?”
“Eating lunch.” Xander unshelled a peanut, threw the shell on the ground, and popped a nut into his mouth. “Why? You got a problem with that?”
“Well…I come here every day. It’s kind of…you know…my own place. I like to be by myself at lunch.” Ember took a deep breath and looked at him through lowered eyes, as if meeting his eyes would burn. “You know… you need to be kind and considerate…” She glanced around at the tree, the warm, speckled cement sidewalk, and the white brick wall.
Xander realized, even without knowing her well, that those were solid, protective, and dependable pieces of her world. He said, “I guess you’re gonna have to find another place. I’m feeling very positive here. It makes me smile, and I think it will make me so happy for the rest of the day. So, sorry. I was here before you.” He stepped forward, stamping the ground with a heavy right foot. “This spot is now… taken.” He smiled, but it was the vicious smile of someone who was enjoying the situation to its fullest extent.
8
Xander’s Lesson
The electronic screen in the Purging room became brighter, and Xander blinked.
“Xander, pay close attention to the indicators on the side of the screen,” Winslow said, tapping the table. For a while Xander had been so lost in watching his own performance that he had forgotten where he actually was. Stupid Winslow.
Xander refocused. There were numbers on the screen. He saw that these were now Ember’s numbers—not his. He could see how Ember’s points were deflating as he bullied her. The digits revealed her respiration levels. She was in a panic.
He, by contrast, was clearly not ruffled, standing there just as if he owned the place, relaxed, contented, and happy.
The screen-star Xander continued to gaze down at Ember as he tossed another peanut into his mouth, adjusting position to catch it just before it bounced to the ground.
Ember stood up and shuffled from one foot to the other; Xander shifted in his chair before the screen.
“Focus, Xander,” Winslow commanded.
Noticing his chair was askew, Xander straightened it out and pivoted to a forward position. He noticed that the gnat had finally left Winslow’s face and had landed directly on the table in front of him. He put his thumb out and squashed it flat.
“Xander—what are you thinking now?” Watson probed.
“That girl is sure weak. Here she’s supposed to be the best student in the school and she’s going all to pieces.”
“Keep watching, Xander. You’re on the verge of discovery.”
The scene continuing on the screen again captured Xander’s attention.
Without warning, words gushed out of the girl’s mouth and hung, electrified, in the air. “You have no right to be here! Look, I don’t know who you think you are, but this is my place!” She wrung her hands, as if to recapture and take back the words.
Her bravado is such an act, he thought. How pathetic. Let’s see how far this can go.
“I know who I am, Ember. I’m Xander from your pre-lunch class. And…really? There’s no sign or anything saying that it’s yours. Look at the wall.” He gestured around. “Is there a ‘No Trespassing’ sign on there? I’m claiming this part of the sidewalk”—Xander pointed straight down— “and I’ll get points for ‘finding moments of solitude.’ That’s a quote from the rules book. And remember—don’t start something we’ll both regret.”
“You’re not just Xander from class. You’re a…a…monster!”
Getting under her skin…she’s gonna lose it! Xander leaned forward in his counseling chair, fascinated. This was getting more and more interesting. He remembered it all, the thrill of it. What a rush!
“Maybe if your food was somewhere ELSE, you could LEAVE!” Ember swooped down and grabbed the lunch pail resting next to Xander. She hurled it as far as she could across the pavement. The metal clattered, a tin cacophony. Peanuts showered the cement like BBs, and a slightly overripe banana splatted its guts on the adjacent wall. An unopened water bottle cannoned down the sidewalk out of sight, and a sandwich of peanut butter and pickles bounced its way to a thud—right in front of a Quad Supervisor’s feet.
Perfect. He couldn’t have planned it better if he’d tried.
Ember’s Alt reading had alerted the attentive, devoted supervisors on campus. With the school’s GPS tracking system, Ember was easy to find. She was out of control. Anger was poison for Alt readings. He watched her close her eyes and sway on her feet, as if the angry outburst made her dizzy.
The outtake stopped for a second, and Xander looked at Winslow to see if it was Winslow or his own brain that had temporarily stopped the mind film. But it then went on to right itself after the pause, simply then replaying the moment before the interruption.
Xander rendered an endearing smile for the Quad Supervisor, as if he was innocence personified. “Listen,” he explained, “I honestly don’t know why she’s so upset. We were just talking. I tried to cheer her up…” he said.
The no-nonsense Supervisor directed Ember to climb aboard a utilitarian mini-cart, and they buzzed down through the buildings to arrive at the center of campus. Some students stared at the truck as it whizzed by; many, however, remembered to avert their eyes. A pariah was best ignored.
Xander chuckled. This session hadn’t been bad at all. It was sooo entertaining.
Winslow grabbed the armrests on Xander’s chair, spinning him away from the room’s screen to look him full in the face.
“So, Xander,” the counselor said, “It’s power, isn’t it? It’s not enough for you to have self-control. You need to be in control of other people to be happy. This session has shown me that you have a deeply serious disorder.”
Journal Entry #5427
We thrive on happiness here. It is our very blood. There isn’t one thing that the people of our city lack in order to be peaceful and merry. I often lie awake at night wondering how I can make our Tranquility even more perfect—more visionary. I’ve read and studied Sir Thomas More’s Utopia, which is an amazing blueprint for our society. Our municipality is based on More’s original ideas. One of my favorite excerpts is this, paraphrased slightly in more modern language:
“If a man wants a position and goes after it with selfishness, he loses it for certain. The office and the people live in harmony and love among themselves. The Magistrates never conduct themselves pompously or cruelly to the people. Instead they wish to be considered fathers, and by being like fathers, will qualify for the love and respect of their citizens. The people award them all kinds of honor, more voluntarily because they are not required to do it. They have few laws which are their constitution. Because they adhere to the constitution happily, they don’t require many laws at all.”
Of course, I
AM such a Magistrate. All I desire is to be esteemed for the goodness I can bestow.
--Serpio Magnus, Magistrate
9
Ember’s Exit
After the inexplicable circle in the hospital room, and no one to question, Ember gathered the few personal items left in her mother’s room. A tablet, now dark and needing a charge, marked the end of Talesa’s long days of reading. Her mother’s purple satchel with clothes, makeup, brush, and toothbrush couldn’t be left behind, either, even though there would be no use for it anymore. The items were heavy in Ember’s arms as she collected them and pushed her way through the crystal glass door.
The hospital’s elevator was modern and slick, welcoming Ember with bells and audible greeting: “Have a beautiful and tranquil day.”
Ember stepped out, feeling like she herself had died. She forced herself to stop at the front desk to see if she could determine what steps she should take next. Where did her mother disappear to, and why? Was the hospital now in charge?
A long-haired brunette woman in a mint-green skirt and jacket proudly sat behind a sheer plexi-glass table in the lobby. “Level Nine,” Ember thought. “She’s only a Level Nine.” As Ember approached, she absorbed the strong sympathy flowing from the matronly figure. In spite of the pity, the woman assumed an authoritarian air as she looked above her half-glasses and focused her attention on Ember as she approached the desk. Ember took a deep, cleansing breath.
“Hello…. I’m Ember Vinata. My mom…. just…died. I need to know what happened to her…I mean, I know she died, but she…she actually disappeared out of the bed. Can you tell me where they took her? I need to make sure she’s being taken care of…”
“Ember. I’m so sorry for your loss. But you don’t need to worry. She didn’t ‘disappear.’ Your mom is in good hands. Kelasts take charge of deceased persons. They’re compassionate and dedicated men and women, treating her with loving care. So much depends on it, you know?” the woman said. “By the way, I’m Gladys.”
