by Tom Dillon
* * *
The next day Kai woke up unusually early again, but waited until the morning bell that would signal them to assemble and confirm their Assignments. When it rang, most of the others repeating their performances of grogginess, although this time there were certainly some who had drank too much the night before. Kai put on his clothes and ate some nuts and dried fruit that he had purchased the day before. Rafi was up as well, and together they walked to the amphitheater that served as a gathering place for the new Vaarplik cadets. Two man were in the middle, one standing holding a sheet of paper, the other sitting at a small table that held a book that would record each of their choices on that day.
“Good morning,” the standing man said, his words drawing a low groan from his audience. “I am Instructor Malik, and I would like to welcome you to the Vaarplikt. As all of you have been Bound and presumably already know your responsibilities, I will move on to the actual assignments.”
Kai looked down at his slip, as he had been doing every few moments since he had found it on his bunk. He knew that he should be happy, but he wasn’t. He was barely aware of what was happening, even when Rafi was called and she squeezed his shoulder before bouncing down the stairs to accept her assignment.
As he sat and waited for his name to be called, Kai could see his future stretching out before him. He wondered how many other strings would be pulled, what sort of path would be cleared for him. He pictured himself moving up through the Council, acquiring more and more influence; his options seemed limitless. But how much satisfaction would he be able to derive from a fixed game? He pictured himself as an old man, having accomplished much but feeling unfulfilled from a life that had never done more than muddle around in the shallow waters, never exploring the challenges and boundaries that made up the shores of experience. Still, the course of his life would be shaped by his own choices more than anything his father could do. Declining the opportunity that had come his way would be no better than letting his father pull his strings. Kai’s internal deliberation was still going on when Malik called his name and he went to stand in line behind his peers.
When he reached Malik, the man smiled and said, “What do you choose?”
Kai hesitated before speaking. “I choose to work with the carpenters.” He had been unsure up until that moment of just what he would say, and Malik’s face looked as surprised as he felt.
“Are you sure?” Malik asked.
“Yes,” Kai said.
Malik nodded and the clerk at the table scratched something out and wrote something else down. Kai went back to his seat to watch as the rest of his peers made their choices. As he walked back along the central aisle, he saw a few eyes cast his way, no doubt wondering what Assignment was so bad that he would choose to be a carpenter.
“What were you thinking? You might as well have opted to be a common laborer.” Rafi said when he sat back down.
“I’m not going to be a clerk just because my father wants me to,” he said.
“That’s just silly,” she said. “If your slip said Clerk on it, it’s because someone thought you’d be good at it, not because your father made it happen. Besides, do you even know anything about carpentry?”
“I know they build stuff.”
“Just let me know where you’ll be working, alright, so I don’t get killed by a falling scaffold of yours or something.”
“I guess you’re right,” he said, ignoring her jibe. A part of him felt that his decision had been petty, but he looked down at his arm, at the false Seal, and knew that he had made the right choice.
END
About the Author
Tom Dillon lives in Olympia, Washington with his awesome wife and an assortment of cats, ducks, and dogs. When he isn’t busy writing or reading, you can find him riding his bike, working wood, or rock climbing. Visit him online at https://pawnstorm.net.
About the Series
Other Stories by Tom Dillon
Try Not To Panic
The Press
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