by Tanya Ross
“Good to meet you, Gladys, but I still have questions!”
She didn’t think it was good to meet her. That was a lie. Couldn’t this Gladys see that she was bleeding on the inside and needed help? She observed the room, noting its emptiness. She was the only person there besides the receptionist. The level-coordinated colored chairs lined up against the wall had to be all for show. Because why would there be people waiting? Nobody got sick. People didn’t just die.
“As people in Tranquility pass away, they become even more precious to the well-being of our citizens,” Gladys continued. “We don’t want anyone to worry about their loved ones. Tranquility has arranged a special transport for them. That is the way it’s done, and so you can go home and be at peace. Is this your first death experience, dear?”
“Yeah. And this is my mom. I really loved her…”
Take a deep breath. You’re gonna be okay. She concentrated on the positive self-talk. Maybe if she was stronger, this lady would answer her questions.
“Are you able to manage your emotions? What is your Alt registering?” Gladys quickly prodded.
Ember looked down in shame. “I’m not doing well with my readings. This has been so, so horrible.”
“I know you realize what’s at stake, Ember, so you need to continue trying hard and just trusting all of us in Management. We have everyone’s best interests at heart.” Gladys smiled a thousand-watt smile at Ember. “So, go on home. And remember, if your Alt readings don’t come back up by tomorrow at this time, your Status will be affected.” Gladys then picked up a stylus, handed it to Ember, and asked her to sign the tablet indicating she was leaving the hospital.
Sad and confused, Ember spun out through the revolving door, almost catching her royal blue jacket on her way through the turnstile.
She was not half a minute out the door when Ember felt her Alt vibrate. She pushed back the sleeve of her blue jacket to check its message. Her Alt continued to show a downward trend and was registering strongly in the red zone. “Shazz! Second Alt Alert of the day. I need to get home. Security. And meditation! That’s what I need… “ Ember felt new peace at the thought.
At the curb, she looked at the array of CommuteCars waiting for passengers. There were ten cars lined up in the circular queue on the street. Luckily, she was able to find a royal blue car with “Level 8, Peace” painted on its side, five cars down the street. This was the car she needed, the only one that could transport her home. Setting down her mother’s belongings, Ember pulled her Status Card from her jacket pocket. The royal blue plastic blinked in the sunlight as she inserted it into the car’s door slot to activate her account. After a short bell, the polished door slid open, and a friendly robotic voice and blinking lights reminded her to remove her card. Ember grabbed her gear and slid inside.
“Welcome to Tranquility CommuteCars,” the dashboard announced. “Make yourself comfortable and relax. This will be a lovely drive. Please respond with your desired drop-off location.”
“Home,” Ember replied.
“Home,” the car responded, as it pulled out onto the street.
Ember was suddenly tired, thirsty, and hungry. She snuggled down into the bucket seat, but not before pulling a lemonade and churro from the food dispenser in front of her. She needed to restore and stabilize her mood. Her primary purpose today would be to pull her Alt’s points up.
Ember’s thirty-minute ride was a blur. She must have fallen asleep after devouring her first food in over a day. Then she woke abruptly, shaking off sickening images from her recurring dream of running, giant books, and a pool of blood…
One of her favorite songs, “Power Up,” piped through the car speakers, accompanied by the car’s honey-voiced computer. “You have arrived at your destination. Thank you for using CommuteCars, Ember. Have a perfect and very happy day.”
Like a zombie, Ember moved from the car to the steps leading up to her door at the Purple Vale complex. Her fingerprint opened the orchid colored door, and she hesitated before stepping inside. This was a first. Not only was the heart of her home gone with her mother, but Ember would not be permitted to remain in a Level Fourteen complex. Now she would be on her own. She was old enough as an orphan, even though she wasn’t eighteen. She would be expected to move into a complex for her own Status, now that her mom was dead. She was not sure how much time she had before City Hall would be enforcing the location change for Status. That is, if she didn’t fall out of her own Level Eight. Her personal grief was an emotional enemy that needed conquering. Especially now that she was on her own, she would need the things her Level Eight Status would provide.
But Ember was not prepared for what she saw upon entering their home. She gasped, and then felt the breath leave her body. The interior was in shambles. Their personal belongings were thrown about the room; even the walls were bare, the artwork stripped off, lying in bizarre places around the Great Room. Furniture was overturned but also slashed on top and underneath as well. Lamps were dismembered. Books from the bookcase, their spines askew, were sodden butterflies, their pages scattered like leaves. The one thing that still looked untouched was the fish tank where Jonas, their two-inch goldfish, swam about peacefully, oblivious to the destruction.
She felt the blood in her head seem to evaporate, and she swayed on her feet. She grabbed the wall to steady herself and then sunk down, defeated, onto the floor. She didn’t know she could take even one more step into this chaos. Who had been in their home? Why? Putting her head in her hands, she broke down, tears dissolving whatever makeup she had left at the end of the day. All alone. What was she going to do?
Again, she felt a pulse on her arm. Her Alt was crashing—the third time today. Its frantic buzz mirrored her panic. Get in control. Think. “Happiness is a choice…” Ember whispered.
Looking to her Alt as comfort, Ember pressed the “H” icon in the right-hand corner of its face. The “Help” icon was for emergencies only, but this had to be an emergency…she didn’t know what else to do.
A female voice emanated from the Alt’s bejeweled wristband. “We understand you are in distress. How can we help?”
“Someone…has broken into…my home and made a mess,” Ember said. “And my mother…has died. I have…no one to help me. Could you send someone out…please?” Her Alt showed a two-point increase with the ‘please’ on the end of her request, but Ember couldn’t appreciate the gain. Not with the accompanying warning on her Alt. She was suddenly sweating. Her clothes felt too hot. Her hands trembled, and the quakes traveled down her arms and legs. Her heart pounded too fast, too hard. She tried taking a deep breath to calm herself, but her breaths were sharp and shallow. Her vision narrowed and darkened. Closing her eyes, she saw bright pins of light. It felt like she was dying.
The electronic voice continued. “According to your Alt, you are having a severe emotional crisis, Ember. Aid will arrive shortly. Please breathe deeply and meditate while you watch your Alt’s screen. It will provide you with a stress-relieving exercise.”
Ember took a jagged breath that failed again to fill her lungs. Thank goodness for the excellent response team at Tranquility’s City Hall. They were going to take care of her. Someone was coming. All she had to do was wait.
10
Will’s Introduction
The door, shiny black as a crow’s wings, still operated on hinges, unlike most others in the city. Its weight was a surprise. A heavy metal, the door displayed an engraved sign with letters in gold: Plauditorium. Filled with anticipation and without hesitation, Will turned the knob and, with more effort than he thought he’d need, pushed the door open.
At first, he was puzzled. A warm earthy fragrance, just short of what you’d call sweet greeted his senses. He stood, pondering it, for a moment, his eyes sweeping the expansive room for clues. But he suddenly realized he carried the same odor himself—his suede jacket multiplied a hundred times. Every Plauditor wore one.
Even though he’d slid in just before eight, P
lauditors were already there, working zealously. Warmth spread through his heart as he beheld uniformed Plauditors, many at stations around the room watching hundreds of flat screen telemonitors on the walls. Since Tranquility was a bubble city—entirely enclosed—it was a full-time job to observe people’s daily activities so they could remain safe.
Will ventured further into the room where fifty staff members were dressed in identical versions of Will’s own uniform. The accent colors on their uniforms were different. There was no doubt as to each person’s Status. He noticed none of them wore their Plauditor hats. He took his off, nervously putting it under his arm.
As Will entered, the Plauditors raised their right hands high above their heads, palms out, one finger up, in acknowledgement of his presence. He gestured back, making sure he showed his respect and acceptance to all.
In close to what would be the middle of the gymnasium-sized room, Will’s name appeared up on a screen in bold letters, along with his current Alt reading, which he noted was in the high 900s today. There would be no hiding his emotional state here. As it should be, he thought.
He crossed the room to his laminated bright yellow desk over which the silver and acrylic screen hung suspended in the air. He tossed his hat on the desk. Sitting down, he tested out the comfort of his chair. His chair. Shiny. Plush. And even though his chair wasn’t the best in the room–he was just a Level Twelve, after all–he felt like a king in it. Being a Plauditor was the start of something big.
He noticed a series of buttons on the right arm of the chair and tested them out. Whoa—vibration. He grinned. That first button was there to offer massage, a relief from any stress the job could have. As if there was stress. He couldn’t imagine anything that could upset him here.
He felt like a little kid, pushing the buttons, finding the second one to be a gentle heat that warmed his seat. Cool. Button Three—immediate chilled air swirled around him. He found another dial he could adjust to personalize the force and temperature. He tried to guess Button Four before he pushed it. Fragrance maybe? Or music. Probably music.
Someone cleared his throat behind him, making him jump. A man hovered directly behind his chair, so closely Will could feel his breath. Will swiveled and stood up, somewhat embarrassed at being blind to what was going on around him. He’d need to improve if he was going to be a decent Plauditor.
“So. Welcome, Will! Great to see you! Honored to have you here.” The man’s right hand jutted out to shake Will’s. The silver metallic stripe on his uniform shone like a wet dime. A Level Seventeen!
Will reached out to shake his hand, to discover the fellow offered the Tranquility salute instead. Will returned the gesture, slightly amused by the gentleman’s height. Will’s five-eleven-foot frame towered over him. The guy was shorter than any adult male he had seen before, probably just over five foot.
“I’m Tedman Adoravi, Chief Plauditor. I’ll be showing you around and introducing you to a few key people. Then we can put you to work!” Tedman laughed heartily as if his statement was the biggest joke of the day.
“Great! I’m game,” Will said. He wondered when he was going to get training for this job. All he knew was he had to watch the monitors, report problems, and be an influencer for happiness in the city. As structured as Tranquility was, there had to be a vast amount of information to learn. A kernel of doubt snaked its way into his mind. Was he up to this? All the learning? His lack of experience at doing anything bothered him. That’s a negative thought, Will, his conscience prodded. Let it go. He forced a smile, took a deep breath, and remembered this was the opportunity of a lifetime. I was meant for this, he told himself, as he brushed a small piece of fuzz off his jacket sleeve. Not tolerating that lint either, he mused.
“So. How’s your family?” Tedman asked, as he gestured for Will to follow him.
“Good. They’re happy I’m here.” Will trailed behind Tedman, who walked surprisingly quickly on his stubby legs.
“So. What do you do in your spare time?”
“Umm…just hang out. You know, with friends.” His mouth was strangely dry.
“So. Yes. But you’re a city celebrity. What’s that like?”
The man has a strange affection for the word “so,” he thought. Weird, but whatever. Will normally didn’t have any trouble being conversational. He’d always been outgoing and polite to a fault, so he couldn’t shut this guy down, but the small talk grated on him a little. Questions about his family, his friends, and especially his newfound fame he certainly didn’t want to share with his new boss. More than anything, he just wanted to get started on his job.
“I’m adjusting,” Will said. “I hope the spotlight disappears soon.” No sooner had he said that, than he passed under a broad halogen can light hung from the ceiling. He smiled wryly, the irony of the double meaning not lost on him.
Tedman led Will over to an adjacent room. They stood just outside the door and peered in. “Broadcasts are made here. Everything— absolutely everything—that is broadcast comes from here.”
“What if the equipment fails?”
“Never happens.” Tedman shrugged his shoulders. “If it did, the city couldn’t get information. But this keeps the news central. The Magistrate’s daily speech, Tranquility News, and ‘feel good’ stories. We do it all.”
“Who can broadcast?”
“The five people you see here in this room are the key writers, communicators, and anchors. Eventually you might create public service announcements. Plauditors cheer up the population. That’ll involve separate training.”
Will’s eyes scanned the production room. On the wall was a large canvas. A colorful portrait of the city’s mascot, a Halcyon with molten eyes, looked back at him. The wings seemed to vibrate with deep magenta. Magenta symbolized the universal harmony that was the promise of their community. Flecks of blue for serenity accented the tips of those wings and its reflective eyes. Throughout Tranquility, citizens celebrated their good luck and happiness with paintings of this symbol in corridors and on buildings. According to legend, the Halcyon was a bird that had the power to calm.
The five people inhabiting the powerful broadcast room, filled with both small and large screens were flanked by shiny knobs and slick cameras. They seemed heavily engaged in the daily programming. The broadcasters, two in purple suits, and the others in yellow, lavender, and orange formal apparel, were discussing ideas, their voices a tangle of highs and lows. One fellow—the orange-clad Level Thirteen—looked to be fine-tuning the equipment, making sure the broadcast system was operating effectively. Will thought, I hope it won’t be long until I can advance to broadcasting. I’d love to be on camera.
The arm Tedman placed on Will’s shoulder broke his concentration. Tedman led him back out into the main room, his short legs somehow able to generate some unusual speed. Will hurried to keep up. “I’ll show you the main unit here. You’ll ‘cut your teeth’ in this room. If you work hard at being a Plauditor and your Alt points stay high, you’ll be in line for a broadcasting position.”
Most of the Plauditors in the room were watching their monitors intently. Every eye appeared focused on the job at hand, and while the projected Alt scores showed a room full of happy people, he could tell the employees took their jobs very seriously. Their jobs make them happy, he mused.
“So. I see your desk neighbor has just clocked in. Let’s head back over to your station so I can introduce you,” Tedman said.
It’s not the most social place I’ve ever been. I see a few people I recognize, but most of them are older and in higher Status groups than I am. I hope I’ll have a chance to meet more people.
As if Tedman heard his thoughts, he stretched out his arm and put his hand on Will’s shoulder. “We’re going to make sure you’re happy here, Will.”
As they approached, Will looked to either side of his own workspace. To the left of him, instead of another workstation, was a table-sized cart holding doughnuts with colored frosting, a carafe, and an
assortment of multi-hued cups. No one would be sitting on that side of him, then. He loved that he could grab a snack whenever he wanted. How much better could this job get?
On the other side of Will’s area, a young man who looked to be about five years older than he swiveled around to meet Will’s gaze. A square face accented by a turned-up nose broke into a toothy grin. His smooth auburn hair reminded Will of a hairstyle model, its thickness combed back from his forehead and cropped straight across his neck. He held a cup in his hand and spilled it slightly as he put it down in a hurry on his desktop.
“So. Austel, meet Will,” Tedman boomed. “He’ll be your right-hand man, so to speak.”
“Hey, Austel. Guess we’ll have to tolerate each other.” Will grinned. “Looks like I’m takin’ up residence.”
“Great. Just don’t upstage me, okay?” The light words had an oddly serious tone.
“No worries about that. I’m fresh in, remember?”
“Yeah. One that’s famous. A hot shot. And I’m just a Level Eleven,” Austel said with mock humility. His wide brown eyes reminded Will of a dog’s, soulful and innocent.
The guy’s a nerd, but not a weak one. He noticed the fellow’s muscles, a sharp contrast to his bookish appearance. Instead of a handshake, Austel gave Will Tranquility’s acknowledgment gesture. Will responded, arm up, index finger raised.
“We’ll be a great duo, bro,” Will proclaimed.
Austel put his hand over his heart in an overly dramatic gesture. “Indeed. You honor me, new comrade.”
11
Will’s Investigation
