We are eliminating Tier 3 and Tier 2 only to create new Tiers? This answers questions that I have had since childhood. Evolutionarily, it’s brilliant. Always surround top candidates with the best, allowing them to be fed daily by those of similar capability. Exposing them through service to those who struggle, creating intense responsibility and accountability, all while allowing them the freedom and flexibility to innovate and explore possibilities in whatever area suits them best. Bentley would be thrilled to hear this. The potential for continual progress is—well, it’s exciting.
The Director smiles, as if interpreting my thoughts. “Obviously, this process will extend far beyond our lifetime, but currently we are faced with a dilemma. During this interim period where fixed Tiers are being phased out, awaiting the transplant of new, higher Tier divisions, we are left with resources that exceed our needs. Not only physical resources, but the time and talents of those in Tier 1, desperate to be utilized. How would you solve this problem, Nick?” he asks, his eyes almost dancing.
I ponder this for a moment. “Well…” I begin. “We could slow our physical resource production, or use extra resources to focus solely on industries in need. Advanced technology comes to mind,” I postulate.
“That is exactly what we initially thought—” the Director starts.
“But,” I interrupt, “we can’t necessarily use all of our human resources toward tech. Tier 2 and even many Tier 1 individuals are not directly suited for innovation in that field. They would need to still be utilized in some way, but,” my mind spins, “if we are trying to slow production, how could we use them to their full potential and allow them to progress individually if we have no need for their end result?”
“Yes, Nick. Yes. You see the problem.” Another image appears on the display. “This is our current population in our territory. You can see the percentage that we have allocated for technology service and innovation—much higher than in the past. Here you see the allocation for the remaining population. This equates to production that is far beyond what we need or could possibly use. Some excess is sent to other territories that can use it, but most are in the same situation.”
“Current research still demands a Tier system?” I ask.
“Yes,” Grace answers. “Berg is still sure that this is the most reliable way to achieve peace and progress simultaneously.”
“Nick, with everything continuing to move forward with few—if any—undesirable effects for society as a whole, it would be impossible to argue a change of trajectory. Why would we give this up for an unknown? For a system that could fail when we have one that is succeeding?” Shari contributes. I see multiple heads nodding around me and reluctantly agree. Too many unknowns with any other options at this point.
“Given this situation, five years ago, a council was held with all Berg territorial committees and an agreement was reached. We, as committee members in all territories, are to serve as keepers of these extra resources. We are to allow ourselves to be served by those who need to serve, which enables us to better problem solve and give back. We have to use physical resources that would be wasted otherwise, utilizing the excess so that we may provide better administration, organization, and leadership to those we have stewardship over. We feel like you have the insight and skills needed for this incredibly important assignment and would like to invite you to join us.” The Director sits and his display goes dark.
I hesitate, not sure whether I should speak.
When the room remains silent, I ask, “What exactly does that look like?”
“Travel, Nick,” Shari says, smiling. “We travel. In order to preventatively care for our territories, we have to understand the issues that could potentially be introduced. Seeing diversity first hand allows us better perspective in our leadership.”
“Service provided to our families gives us time and energy to create stronger bonds. With life expectancy higher than ever, we can dedicate ourselves to the mentoring of our children and grandchildren, potentially creating the first long-term family groups in the Tier system,” a man contributes.
“Complete access to anything we want or need, along with absolute freedom to explore. I can invent without fear of failure or waste and I don’t need approval for any of it. We are trusted to use resources wisely, but aren’t limited as we have been in the past. Think of the good you could do without any limits on your research!” another woman speaks out.
Complete access. Flexibility. One hundred percent of my time spent with Kate and the kids, or pursuing the hundreds of research projects that are on my mental docket. And my dad, we could see him regularly. No more research check-ins or limitations, no more community responsibilities, no more stress. Only meaningful contribution. There are at least five projects I can think of right now that I know have been shut down because of a lack of available resources. Projects that I believe have the potential to break research on the brain wide open. And those are only the few I can list off-hand. How many more exist—perhaps with some data already collected?
“Is family included?” I ask softly, dazed by the thought of this. “I mean—”
“It’s a package deal, Nick,” the Director answers. “Your pair would be extended the same responsibility if you accept. Children will obviously need to remain unaware, for consistent conditioning experiences, but we have protocols in place for that. I would hope that you and Kate would move forward with another round of fertility, fulfilling your commitment to the current project. This assignment will be a transition, and we have a procedure that will need to be followed where your pair is concerned, but—”
“I accept,” I say. How could I not? The applause resumes and I am greeted by handshakes and embraces all around, voices telling me that my new assignment will begin immediately and, eventually, we will need to make arrangements for relocation. It is only then that I realize I probably should have asked for time to discuss this with Kate. Maybe at least a night to process. Overwhelmed, I excuse myself, reminding everyone that I have young children at home who need me.
I step into the silence of the hall and tears fill my eyes. Out of relief? Yes. Out of excitement for a life of utter freedom to do good? Yes. A million times yes. My life has been on an upward trajectory with so much potential, and yet no obvious space for me to break through to something big. This is it. The opportunity I have always hoped for.
Are my tears also out of worry that I have upended our lives with no input from my partner? Out of sadness for Tier 3? I didn’t even get the chance to know them…
Yes. All of it. Something inside of me dreads telling Kate, knowing—at least in part—what her reaction will be. And this? This is what hurts the most. She can’t know how Tier 3 was dealt with. It would crush her. I cry out of frustration that I don’t measure up to her goodness. To her compassion. That deep down, I know I am a substitute. A second best, despite all that I do to prove otherwise. Even this incredible opportunity can’t make me forget that she loves someone else. I weep. Pressing my hands against the rough brick, forcing myself to remain upright. I heave in anguish and euphoria both, releasing everything that I have held wound up within me for the last year. Then, gathering myself, I walk home, thoroughly spent.
62 Eric
“That’s why I’m here,” I say. “The people who love me, and even those who just know me, have recommended that I take some steps to move forward. I don’t know what that will look like but, for Tal, I’m willing to try,” I say, falling back gently against the chair.
“I think that’s admirable of you, Eric,” Dr. Houser states. She mirrors my behavior, leaning back as well, and it isn’t lost on me. It works despite my recognition. I feel slightly more at ease. “What does ‘moving forward’ look like to you?” she asks.
“I—I honestly don’t know? Practically, I think others would like to see me re-pair, but the thought of it,” I pause. “Well, the thought of it makes me nauseous, frankly.” I laugh nervously.
“Do you wish you could consid
er re-pairing? I mean, if we were able to get to a point where your physical feelings surrounding it changed, is it ideally something you would want?”
I think for a moment. “Is it possible that I don’t know what I want? Or want to want?” I don’t even remember the last time I thought about what I wanted. “I love my son. I love watching things grow, and I love the sun on my face. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten,” I answer.
“That’s okay, Eric. We can work with that. How about we take pairing out of the equation. What relationships do you have in your life?”
My mind scans through the people I interact with and am immediately disappointed in myself. “I don’t have many,” I mumble, clearing my throat.
“There’s no judgement here, Eric.”
I nod. “The only relationship that I put any effort into is with Tal.”
“Let’s start there, then,” she says kindly.
I arrive home to find Tal working at the kitchen counter. I’ve only been gone an hour, but it seems he is almost finished with his project.
“Hey, Dad,” he says, not looking up.
“Hey,” I say, ruffling his hair.
“How did therapy go?” he asks.
“It was good, I think. I set some goals. I am going to try a few things to help me build new relationships,” I say hesitantly. Complete openness is my goal with Tal, but already I can tell it’s going to be uncomfortable.
“You do need some friends,” he teases, grinning.
“You don’t like being my only friend?”
“It’s flattering, but no,” he laughs, pausing in his task. “Dad, I want you to be happy. Stop worrying about me, just—well, yeah. Build some new relationships.”
“Apparently I should come to you for therapy, no need to leave the house,” I joke, moving closer to him and catching his gaze. “I will, Tal,” I add seriously. “I’m going to work on this, and I’m sorry I’ve used you as a crutch.”
He nods slightly, then returns to his work.
I smile in spite of myself, watching Val walk toward the table. Standing to greet her, we awkwardly shake hands, not knowing whether to embrace, and she sits across from me. I haven’t seen her outside of work, and she looks stunning.
“Hey,” she says. “So. What prompted this?”
I take a deep breath. Openness, I remind myself. Vulnerability. “I have set some goals to build new friendships. Turns out, I haven’t put forth much effort in that area, and when I thought of who I would like to get to know better...you were at the top of the list,” I say, noticing her blush.
“I’d like to get to know you better, too,” she says.
We order our food and ask each other questions. I find that easier than coming up with topics at the moment, and she is more than happy to play along.
“What were your parents like?” I ask.
“They were hard workers,” she answers. “They weren’t concerned with pushing for Tier 1 or improving their status, they only wanted to do what was best for us kids and give us as many opportunities as possible. They were incredibly annoying when it came to nutrition,” she answers and I chuckle. “It’s true! My mom used to practically stuff vegetables down our throats!”
“Well at least they cared, and you lived to tell the tale,” I tease.
She daintily takes a bite of the popcorn that sits on the table as an appetizer. “What about you?” she asks.
My mind goes blank for a moment. I haven’t thought about my life in ages. Thinking of my childhood and parents feels somehow separate. A different me, or a long-forgotten character in a book I loved. Nostalgia and warmth envelope me and I smile.
“What?” she asks.
“Sorry, I haven’t thought about it in a while. A long while. Remembering makes me happy.”
“Well that’s the best endorsement of a family I’ve ever heard,” she says, grinning.
“They were wonderful,” I agree. “Both of them were always supporting and pushing us to accomplish anything we wanted. To ‘find our path’, my mom used to say.”
Val’s smile fades slightly and I notice a quizzical look on her face.
“Are you ok?” I ask, concerned.
“Yeah, it’s just—I find it fascinating that your parents had that mentality. That seems to be more of a Tier 1 mindset. If I would have heard that I could do anything when I was growing up, I wonder if that would have shifted any of my decisions. Despite my parents’ contentment, I was focused on doing everything right. Checking every box. Making sure that I maximized my potential to qualify for Tier 1. Then, when it didn’t happen…well, I wish I would have embraced my Tier 2 life sooner,” she determines, looking down at her lap. “Did you feel lied to when you did everything you could and still didn’t get a shot?”
“Huh,” I say. “I guess I haven’t ever thought about it that way. I don’t clearly recall ever being worried about qualifying for Tier 1, I was only focused on finding a way that I could make an impact. I don’t know if I’ve succeeded,” I chuckle introspectively.
“I think you have,” she says encouragingly.
Our food is brought to the table and I am grateful for the break in conversation. Why didn’t I ever want to qualify for Tier 1 testing? I understand why it’s not possible now, but could it have been before—before Kate? Why can’t I remember? Puzzled, I take a few bites of my potatoes. Was I really that complacent?
“This is really nice, Eric. Thanks for inviting me. It’s rare that I use credits for a night out and I needed a break,” she says gratefully, wiping her mouth with the corner of her cloth napkin.
“I think I have enough credits to go out every night for a year,” I laugh.
“Really?” she exclaims. “How? Don’t you use them for time off or specialty food? That’s where all of mine go.”
“No, Tal and I are pretty simple.” And there it is. Tal. I don’t remember if we have talked about him before. I hesitate, wondering what she is thinking.
“How old is Tal again?” she asks, not missing a beat.
“He is eleven,” I say. “Acts like he’s older, but only eleven.”
“How is he doing with conditioning?”
I chew slowly, mulling this question over. “He struggles, to be honest. He, like you mentioned, really wants to qualify for Tier 1, but I don’t think that will be a possibility. We’ve been through too much. I don’t know that his brain will respond the way they want it to, even if we did more rounds of reversal.” I sigh. “I wish I could have the attitude my parents had, but I’m too practical, I guess.”
She nods. “I think it’s a good thing. Not to get his hopes up. Speaking from personal experience,” she jests, but her face belies the hurt and disappointment she spoke of earlier.
We enjoy the rest of our meal and walk for a block or two before our paths separate. At the corner, she looks tenderly up at me.
“Thanks for letting me be a friend, Eric. I really enjoyed talking with you.”
“Thanks for being patient with me, I’m sorry—”
Her hands shoot up between us. “No apologies. We all move at our own pace. I’m glad that you are making progress and happy to be a part of it,” she says, dropping her arms to her sides.
Not thinking for once, I reach out and pull her close. Her head rests beneath my chin and her hair smells of warm honey. My body hums at the connection. After a few moments, I reluctantly let go. With a warm flush in her cheeks, she waves and we go our separate ways.
63 Nick
Upon returning home, I feel desperate for Kate. My emotions are volatile and I know she can sense it. Since I don’t trust myself to talk—nor do I understand what I am able to discuss with her yet—I kiss her deeply before she can ask me anything. Feeling her body respond to mine sends tingles across my skin. I will never take for granted that I get this. That I get her.
Lying beside her, I feel silent tears slide down my cheeks. Kate is unaware, her head buried between my shoulder and neck, and my hand errantly traces her
shoulder blade, her hair falling softly around my fingers. My emotions war within me, the decisions I have made weighing heavily on my heart. If everything I have done is right, consistent with my priorities, why don’t I feel at peace? Even now, when all seems to be perfectly falling into place? Reason and logic have led me here, yet I feel I am slogging along blindly. The small deceptions and secrets have seemingly created a house of cards—one that could come crashing down around me at any moment. Nothing feels solid, though logically I know that it is. Even if it did come crashing down, reversal could fix it, yet...I fear loss so much. I realize it must be different to be with someone who hasn’t been manipulated to love you.
The initial relief I felt at the meeting is quickly dissolving into worry and doubt. The Director’s explanations initially made perfect sense, but I shrink at the idea of telling Kate what I’ve agreed to. But think of all the good I can do. We can do, together. Shouldn’t she be excited at this opportunity? Is she holding us back? Is my bond with her preventing me from fulfilling my potential? Has she become what I am loyal to? I regret these thoughts as soon as they materialize. Why am I deciding her feelings for her? Once I explain everything, how could she not understand? Kate is the best of us. Being with her should do nothing but ensure my ability to contribute. Resting there, holding her, I eventually slip into fitful sleep.
After having a few weeks to ponder all that has happened—along with continued success in trials—my excitement for these changes has been rekindled. Along with my new assignment, I have requested to continue on with my current research. Despite my intense desire to begin new projects, my focus is still on reversal. I won’t be able to move forward until I have closure on this, especially where Kate is concerned. With the added benefit of having full access to any resources I deem useful, and no longer having to attain approval, I am compelled to see this through. Instead of trying to constantly mentally justify my reasoning for the trials, I give myself permission to accept the fact that curiosity and concern for Kate supersede anything else at this point. Since she is purely a microcosm of the Tier 1 individuals I could potentially heal, this priority is justifiably placed.
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