by Tanya Ross
With an earnest sigh, he propelled himself forward into the wilderness before him. Water, food, and people in that order, he determined. It was going to be a challenge.
He had no sense of direction, but his sense of time and his blistered, aching feet told him he had been walking for a few hours. He had discovered nothing to suggest that he would even survive a day or two out of the city. The trek had been long, and Xander was discouraged. The air of the place still weighed heavily on his lungs.
Just when he was ready to break down in frustration, he saw in the distance what looked to be a small copse of trees. At least those would offer him some shade for a time, and if they were growing there, some way to find water nearby.
Ten minutes later, he arrived. To his dismay, the trees, anorexic at best, were partially cut, obviously for wood at some point in time, and more or less dead. Someone had been here, but now no one was around; he was still alone. Except for the faint smell of smoke in the air, the surroundings offered no shred of humanity or animal life. He sank down on a section of cut tree to rest, sagging against its shredded form.
Putting his head in his hands, he stared off into space. He couldn’t go another step; this was the best place for him to make a camp. It would have to do for today. At least he wasn’t dead yet, he rationalized. He would prevail! At that, a joke he’d heard pushed its way into his thoughts: Never knock on Death's door. Ring the bell and run—he hates that. Xander chuckled. Yes, he would, indeed, have to be running.
He bent down and picked up a couple of sticks, one about three feet long, the other about a foot. He could use them to start a fire, if he found food. No need for warmth…the sun, while lower in the sky, was unrelenting.
Suddenly a tiny movement captured his attention. A lizard, about six inches long, was watching him from a nearby rock. Dinner! he thought. The lizard cocked its head, blinking with its bright, beady eyes, content to bask in the sun. Xander inched his way closer, never making eye contact with his intended meal. He realized that he was close enough that he could bash the lizard with one of his sticks. He stood perfectly still, measuring the distance with his eyes. Finally, he let his stick fly. Thwack! The stick hit the lizard square across the middle. It was oozing liquid, but still somehow alive, its head and legs jerking spasmodically. His fingers closed around the writhing creature. Xander squeezed it hard until its eyes bulged out, and it flopped across his knuckles, dead. He would stay alive another day.
Journal Entry #5484
There is much to do as the Magistrate of Tranquility. No one knows—except perhaps the Elite—what difficult things I must handle on a daily basis.
Most days I’m satisfied with what the readouts show, but once in a while there are people who can’t maintain their contentment. They obviously don’t try hard enough. When that happens, I’m the one who puts the plans in motion for intervention. It’s a heavy responsibility, and I don’t take the task lightly. I can think of several, just this month, who have been disappointments.
Today a REM, Xander Noble, was exiled to The Outside. When I monitored the Continuum Spectrum, I found the city’s scores had already improved. Even one REM disturbs our peace. I feel responsible for helping all of our people to remain emotionally stable and happy.
And, yes, I become disappointed. I’m also often sad and angry. But I wear no Alt. As the Magistrate I am free to exercise my emotions. Sending citizens to The Outside is not a pleasant task. It would make anyone question their own humanity. So, I willingly take this on, to be a proper judge of others’ emotions. Every day I realize what uncontrolled emotional highs and lows could do to our citizens. These unbridled emotions I experience and tolerate are exhausting, but necessary. I accept and bear the burden, but I often wish there would be someone trustworthy to take this on.
Because of my responsibility, I have no family. I have chosen to be alone. A family would complicate the decisions I must make. My city is my family, so I gladly sacrifice any other blood ties. The Elite body is my clan. They support me in my needs and follow my recommendations without question. It is through me that the Elite can help govern Tranquility.
--Serpio Magnus, Magistrate
15
Ember’s Inventory
Two days after the break-in, Ember was still getting her living quarters organized to where she could find everything. Putting her possessions back together, though, was a calming experience. She was still raw from the last few days’ traumatic events, but her Alt numbers had at least normalized, thanks to her dedication to Tranquility’s best mental exercises and her return to a routine.
She still missed her mother terribly. The place didn’t feel like home anymore without her mom there. When she felt especially lonely, she wrote letters to her mother about how she felt and what had happened since her death. It wasn’t like she was truly talking to her mom, but she could make believe her mother would receive the letters. In them, she promised her mom she would try hard to become the person her mom would want her to be. In the end, the positive energy she put into it, and her make-believe life with her helped her. Dwelling on the loss would not bring her mother back or help her move forward.
City Hall had not wasted much time notifying her that her days in the Purple Vale sector were numbered. One short day after she had returned from the hospital, the eviction notice was posted on the front door. Ember pulled a five-by-five card from a stiff white envelope. A royal blue background imprinted with an old-fashioned white key formed a frame for “Home Sweet Home” written in script. Below was listed her new address at Number Twelve, Blueberry Way. She would have to be there within two weeks, where all the Level Eights like herself lived, provided she could stay in control of her points and maintain her Status. Although not nearly as plush as Purple Vale, the Blue Riverfront development would represent a new beginning for her.
Along with the notification about the move, Ember received a purple envelope with the seal of the city holding the flap closed. Breaking the seal, Ember read the letter inside:
“Tranquility’s leaders are sorry for your loss. We understand this is a traumatic period of time, but one we trust that you will manage with dignity and optimism. As you know, every cloud has a silver lining!
Items previously owned by the deceased will need to be returned to the city. Talesa Venata’s Alt is especially important. In your loved one’s honor, the Alt will be smashed, its parts rearranged artistically. From there it will be encased in a crystal jar bearing Talesa’s name. The jar will sit in the City Hall Memorial Room with many others who have come and gone before.
The rest of the deceased’s possessions are on the attached list. Please be sure that you account for every item on the next page. These items will go to the Clearing House where they will be recycled and made new again for someone else to own. We respectfully ask that you begin this process immediately so that you may heal quickly. We determine that one week from the receipt of this letter should be sufficient. Again, our deepest sympathy in your bereavement.”
As Ember examined the list, she realized what a daunting task she had before her. She looked over the extensive inventory, pacing the floor with a nervous energy. She would have to check off hundreds of items.
Finally, Ember recognized she had procrastinated as long as she could. In exactly twenty-four hours she would be deemed late for the collection. She stroked her Alt, feeling the safety and security it offered her, before grabbing a box, scissors, and some packing tape and heading down the hallway to her mother’s bedroom. It was time to pack up Talesa’s things.
In great haste, she made the bed, resisting the urge to put her face in her mother’s pillow. Smelling her mom’s personal scent and perfume would send her back into mourning — not an advisable place to go. The closet was next, and again, Ember did not hesitate as she lifted each soft, pristine garment out, folded it, and placed it in the box she had brought. So many lovely purple clothes…
She was proud of her own efficiency as at last she headed to h
er mother’s dressing table under the broad, bright window. Talesa’s makeup was still scattered about, something that Austel probably felt was better left to Ember to arrange. She would normally place items back into the special little drawers that were painted with delicate flowers and calligraphy, designating each drawer for a purpose. Talesa always reminded Ember that organization was a shining personal attribute; it allowed the mind to stay focused. The more organized a person’s possessions, the more a person’s life would imitate the process.
Ember picked up all the pieces of makeup, again placing them in yet another box, the final one of the day. She pulled open each of the wooden drawers of the dressing table, still finding random items that Austel had tried to position after he had taken inventory. A few beaded necklaces, glimmering earrings, and even underwear were stuffed into the dressing table in a haphazard fashion, lonely artifacts of a life gone too soon.
Into the box they went, and Ember pushed to shut the last door front, symbolically making the collection more final.
“What is wrong with this drawer?” Ember wondered aloud. “Shazz!” Ember tried to shut it again, and for a second time it stuck, its front protruding for about a half inch. Pull it out, push back in. What was so hard about that?
“I’m going to have to take the whole thing out!” Ember yelled out to the room at large, throwing her hands up in the air. She felt a strange tickle down her spine. Anger. Breathe. Be careful. Get those emotions in check.
Grabbing the defiant drawer with a hand on each side, Ember eased it out until it again became stubborn, refusing to give up its position. Pushing up on the bottom, Ember blew out a frustrated blast of air, and then with a Herculean yank, freed the drawer from whatever anchored it to the table. Ember tumbled backwards, landing in heap not unlike a half somersault. She lay there for a moment, rubbing her hip, its throbbing like a displaced heartbeat. As she tried to sit up on the floor, her feet and legs mulishly refused to move. It was behaved as if they belonged to someone else. “Graceful much?” Ember muttered. Her Alt vibrated, reminding her that her negative self-talk was registering on the scale.
Ember righted herself at last and picked up the drawer which had landed on its side. She realized instantly that the thing was empty and had probably become stuck from recent disuse. She slid it back into its casing, but still could not get it to fully close. “Shazz! What’s goin’ on here?” Taking a deep, discontented breath, she pulled it out again, entirely dislodging the drawer from the table. With the determination of a keen detective, she peered more closely into the hollow recess of the dressing table. Something that looked like gauze was lodged in the very back.
She reached her hand in, grabbed, and pulled the wad out, realizing it had been hooked on a tiny nail. Unfurling the gauze, she gawked at the discovery. Her heart skittered like an escaping mouse. She had found her mother’s special ring.
16
Ember’s Secret
The dazzling amethyst and diamond ring had been on her mother’s finger “twenty-four-seven” for the last three months, but when she became sick, Talesa put away all her jewelry and, sadly, never put it on again. I wonder what it’s doing in the back of the drawer, thought Ember. I could have completely missed it!
Ember held the ring up to the light, and memories of the Day of the Ring and the Ceremony sprang to the surface. She was instantly in another place and time, and she felt infused with love…
“Mom…I’m so excited you’re getting this award. So proud, too!”
“Thanks, Ember.” She beamed her characteristic smile. “I have to go up on stage now. See you right after in the reception room.”
Ember had smoothed her deep blue evening dress as she made her way to her seat in the front row of the theater. Talesa’s joy radiated from her. So incredibly strong, it didn’t even take Ember’s empathic talents to feel it.
The lights dimmed as Talesa made her way onto the stage and seated herself in a highly decorated purple chair. Seventeen other chairs, making a total of eighteen, were a rainbow of color. The seats held men and women of all ages, each person’s smile bigger than the room.
Then the Magistrate stepped to the podium. It was the first time Ember had ever seen Serpio Magnus in person. She was awe-struck. People thought him to be a chivalrous, compassionate individual, but to Ember, he seemed rather fearsome. The man was tall, which alone was intimidating. His black hair, sparsely iced with delicate strands of lustrous silver, reached almost to his shoulders. Regardless of his age—unknown but estimated to be around fifty—he radiated good health and perfect skin, unmarked by lines. He must visit the Youth Restoration clinic all the time. Or maybe they even come to him…Ember felt his presence strongly, his inner strength and emotional luster almost bowling her over. When her gaze reached his eyes, as piercing as gray steel points, he scrutinized her with intense curiosity in return.
“Good evening, Tranquilites! Welcome to our twenty-fifth annual Day of the Ring Ceremony. Tonight we have eighteen distinguished citizens who are to receive an award. Each ring, the Augur Prize, represents and symbolizes the special qualities of these individuals. We name them for the first Magistrate of Tranquility, Bahram Augur, who began using a circular band to symbolize Tranquility’s never-ending Emotional Continuum. All eighteen levels are being honored here tonight.” The great Magistrate’s hands shook with excitement, and, to Ember’s dismay and revulsion, several droplets of spittle shot out from his mouth over the podium. “The Commission nominated these individuals, but also vetted them, determining who was most worthy to receive this prestigious award. It is an immense honor.”
She snapped back into the present. Ember polished the ring’s stone with the bottom of her shirt and held it up to the light, where its prismatic facets glimmered like stardust. It was as breathtaking as she remembered. The amethyst stone, three carats in size, sparkled in a solid gold swirly “T” criss-cross setting. Two tiny diamonds set off the amethyst on each side. Above and beyond its monetary worth, it was priceless for its symbolism. Nothing comparable could be purchased with Status points.
She grabbed the possessions inventory from the top of the dressing table, frantically looking for the ring’s presence on the index, hoping against hope that it had been overlooked. Her heart sank as she saw it listed in bold directly above the Alt.
I can’t part with this. One thing of my mom’s to remember her by…I’ve got to keep it safe! It’s like she left me something to comfort me.
She slipped it into her shirt pocket, knowing that putting it on her finger would be impractical. The ring would never fit her, as her hands were diminutive in comparison to her mom’s. It wasn’t something she would wear around every day anyway, and it wasn’t hers, but it could be a special keepsake to keep and treasure forever.
Picking up the box she had packed, she left the room, and closed the door behind her. The furniture and heavy items would be left to the movers to clear and move. She pasted a smile on her face—she knew the value of the external to affect inner feelings—and went downstairs. All was now packed, including her own possessions. She set the box down on a nearby table, dragging her fingers across the top as if to say goodbye.
Next, she would head down to City Hall to inquire about the move and turn in the inventory list. It would have to be stamped and notarized. She picked up a pen off the table, signing her name in bold lettering, affirming its completion.
The ring seemed to burn in her pocket. She had never before done anything so rebellious. Her palms were damp with moisture, and she squeezed her hands together to keep them from shaking. Her Alt vibrated a warning. Shazz! Her points were dropping. She immediately forced a smile onto her face and thought about going down to the Fun Zone later to help balance her emotions.
A short while later, Ember emerged from the blue CommuteCar in front of City Hall. She had seen City Hall, of course, but she had never been inside. She was young, inexperienced, and naïve. City Hall was not for people like her, but for the Elite—the
government who provided them with peace and happiness. She had never had a reason to be there.
After passing the ten-foot iridescent “T” statue in front of the double glass doors trimmed in gold, she entered the building. Looking up, Ember determined the building stretched to the skies, as it was either open at the top, many stories up, or had a glass ceiling at some point. In the lobby, a massive wooden desk, gold, easily twenty feet long and seven feet high, dominated the room. The front of the desk was laser-carved, the carving with faces of former and current leaders of Tranquility etched deeply into the smooth grain. They were meant to be encouraging, but Ember found them unnerving. They were so realistic! Each face had a softly shaped smile and vibrant looking eyes. Flags of all colors lined each side of the room, about eight feet up. Each flag, each color, a Status.
Ember strode with what she hoped to be a convincing, purposeful confidence up to the front desk where she planted her feet in a wide stance, her eyes glued to the woman behind the counter.
Behind the desk was what appeared to be a person, but Ember quickly realized she was mistaken. Ember felt no emotional energy, saw no aura. It wasn’t a person at all. Its hair glistened unrealistically under the overhead chandeliers, and its eyes blinked a little too sluggishly. A rose-colored blush dusted the cheeks on snowy skin. Its slender arms moved fluidly on and off a keyboard like a pianist in recital. Shiny, pearly teeth highlighted a bow-like mouth, lips an ideal shade of peach. “She” was picture-perfect. Her name tag had A.S.P.E.R. written on it in bold gold letters. In fine print were the words “Alt Spectrum Policy Enforcing Receptionist.”
Ember glanced around, hoping to find others in the room. Real people. There was surely someone else. But the foyer was empty, except for herself. Nothing to do but go forward. “Hello. I’m Ember. I have to register my mom’s personal effects and ask about a few other things.”
