I Am Margaret

by Corinna Turner

  “What did you get flung in here for?”

  I didn’t need to ask her: her antique hearing aids made it redundant.

  “I can’t do math.”

  “Bummer.”

  “Yeah. So what’s it like?”

  Polly shrugged.

  “We only got here half an hour ago. There’s a girl called Jane in the group who were here first. She’s already talked to one of the Old Year, as they seem to call them.”

  “Which one’s she?”

  “There, talking to your friends.”

  She pointed to an Asian girl with a sharp face and two long dark braids who’d just left Harriet and Caroline and gone over to Sarah, but after a very brief exchange, she came straight on up to me, glancing at my detail card as she passed.

  “Margaret?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what’s your IQ?”

  “I’d rather not say.”

  “I’ll take it you understand big words then.”

  I just shrugged, but she looked pleased.

  “I’m glad to find another one. There’s me, Polly here, you and Rebecca. Everyone else is rather on the dim side.”

  Just what was I supposed to say in response to that?

  “You’re Jane?”

  “Janita, really, but everyone calls me Jane. No one can pronounce British A names nowadays. Myself included.”

  The Registration laws were so strict they’d forced the majority of most ethnic minorities to return to their ancestors’ homelands, simply to be able to find a partner. An unintended consequence, if you believed the EGD.

  “I hear you’ve been here longest?”

  “Yeah, our school’s only over the next pass. I managed to have a good talk with one of the Old Year before they were marched off for their exercises. There’s a whole gym on the ground floor or something.”

  I couldn’t help glancing around the room at the milling girls. All new, surely, and the door was locked.

  “There’s a loose cinder block,” Jane grinned and pointed. “In that bunk over there… Courtesy of some industrious predecessors. The Old Year’s dorm is next door, on the other side of that barred gate; it’s all mirror-imaged, apparently.

  “Lessee, yeah, that hatch there is the trash chute.” She pointed to the right of the little window. “It goes to an incinerator, so they say, so don’t chuck anything you want down there. Recycling chutes beside it, obviously. The washrooms are next door, ‘parently, and the showers are immediately below, beside the cafeteria, and that’s about all you need to know. The Old Year reckon the boys’ block on the other side is just a reflection of this one, but of course they’ve never been there.”

  “Do we get to see the boys at all?” I couldn’t help thinking of Jonathan. Someone else who knew Bane…

  “Nuh-uh,” Jane shook her head decisively. “And it sounds like it’s no loss. Apparently that Major Everington just lets the boys do whatever they like over there and they go positively feral. Emily—that’s the girl in the Old Year—said sometimes at night they can hear the boys fighting—I don’t mean just a couple, but all of them, fighting and howling like packs of wild animals.”

  My eyebrows went up.

  “Can’t imagine us behaving like that.”

  “Well… no. Don’t think the Menace would ignore it, anyway.”

  “That’s what they call the warden,” put in Polly.

  “Yeah,” said Jane. “Sounds like she’s a bit of a sadistic cow. Emily said they’d hardly been here three weeks and the Menace marched them all to the Lab—that’s the smaller building furthest from the gates—and forced them to watch an execution. The whole thing. Does it to every year, Emily thinks, so that’s something to look forward to, not.”

  My stomach churned slightly—I just said, “Sick bitch.”

  “Yeah. Most of the other guards are all right, apparently, but Emily said there’s one you’ve got to watch. New guard, name’s Finchley. Just after he arrived she called him to let her out to go to the washroom—there’s a buzzer there by the door, see—and he tried to follow her in there. Fortunately she managed to dive past him back into the passage where there’s a camera. But none of them have ever pushed the buzzer when he’s on duty again. Finchley—I’d remember it: their names are sewed on their pockets.”

  I grimaced.

  “Great. I reckon we should just hang on, then, if we can, or go in twos if we have to, ‘least until we see how most of them are.”

  Jane nodded.

  “Yeah, that wouldn’t hurt. They aren’t allowed cameras in the washrooms or in here, so the guards come up once an hour and open the hatch in the door to take a look. There’s a few women guards who do the nightshifts, apparently.”

  Polly looked pleased.

  “We’ve some privacy, then. What’s the food like?”

  Jane looked rather scathing.

  “You know, I didn’t think to ask. A perfectly balanced diet, I expect; probably suit you.” Her eyes flicked up and down Polly’s svelte figure. “Probably tastes rubbish.”

  “It’s a fair enough question!” said Polly.

  “I expect we’ll find out soon enough,” I remarked. “It must be nearly dinner time.”

  “Emily said it’s at six,” said Jane.

  I checked my watch.

  “Quarter of an hour, then.” Half my mind was on the bunks, though. “Twenty beds exactly. All full.”

  “Yeah,” said Jane blackly. “And Emily said their dorm has twenty beds and twenty girls failed their Sorting. And twenty boys. And the same for the Old Year when they arrived.”

  “So. Not rumors after all.”

  “You mean the rumor there’s no actual pass mark for Sorting?” asked Polly.

  “Yeah,” said Jane. “They do just choose the twenty worst. Bastards. Not that it would’ve helped me if there was a pass mark.”

  “What did you fail for?”

  “Nothing,” said Jane. “My parents failed me. I’m unregistered.”

  I winced.

  “Oh. Now that really must suck. Though… you’re rather lucky, aren’t you? Not to have been called for dismantling before now?”

  Jane shrugged and pulled a face.

  “Yeah, yeah, I know. Lucky, lucky Jane. But it still sucks.”

  Didn’t it just. To grow up knowing that any day the inspectors could arrive at your house and take you away, just because of something your parents didn’t do. But the rumors were true. No pass mark. Well, didn’t that expose the supposedly high-minded arguments for Sorting for what they were. Something that comes from a bull’s behind. Supply and demand was the truth of it.

  “Do we ever get to go out of the building?” Polly was demanding.

  “Yes, apparently we get daily exercise in a yard outside and a weekly walk on the battlements—that’s what Emily called them.”

  “Really, we’re allowed to go up there?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, it’s not like we’d get through that wire,” I pointed out. “If you fell through it by accident—or at all—I reckon you’d be dead before you got anywhere near the ground.”

  “Is it that sharp?” Polly seemed surprised. Clearly she lacked a best friend well-versed in such matters.

  “They call it razor wire for a reason. Imagine falling through that many razors.”

  Polly’s mouth opened in a little ‘o’ and Jane’s eyebrows rose slightly.

  “Well, considering the drop and the machine guns, I don’t think that’d be my preferred method of escape, but it’s worth knowing.”

  “Are you going to escape?” asked Polly. “Can I come with you? I thought it was impossible?”

  “It is,” said Jane brusquely. “Honestly, I wasn’t being serious!”

  Yes, you were... She just didn’t intend to take Polly into her confidence, not yet, not so easily...

  “Huh.” Polly looked disappointed, then brightened as the sound of footsteps came from the passage. “Ah, dinner time.”

>   It was early and I would’ve remarked on it, but Jane jumped in.

  “Do you think of nothing but your stomach?”

  Polly bristled.

  “A bit of decent grub will improve the next year or so immensely, so sue me for being interested what it’s like!”

  The door opened and the warden stepped through.

  “Inspection!” she barked. Could she actually talk normally?

  Two men in white coats followed her and two guards. Uneasily, I stepped over to my detail card, glancing to check that Sarah’s bunkmate had steered her into position.

  “Hurry up,” the warden was grumbling. “It’s not exactly difficult!”

  But everyone was in place now and I could feel the tension. Sarah could too, she looked anxiously at me but when I mustered a reassuring smile she beamed back and stayed put.

  “All yours, Doctor Richard,” said the warden happily. Doctor? Well, that had to be a courtesy title; a dismantler’s training might have some similarities to that of a medical practitioner but it was considerably more limited in nature.

  “Right…” One of the men in white coats was consulting a clip board that looked a lot like the one the warden had earlier. “Two ZB3a tissues in this lot; about time, we’ll process one straight away.”

  “I still think it’s rather late, Richard,” objected his colleague. “We won’t be finished until…”

  “They’re clean out and demanding more,” interrupted the first man. “We process one tonight, Sid. You want a black mark on our supply record?”

  “It wasn’t our fault we didn’t have any,” grumbled the other, but ‘Doctor’ Richard was walking along the room, looking at the cards.

  “Well, here’s one…” My blood froze in my veins as he peered at Sarah’s card. Then looked her up and down as though she were a piece of meat. “Huh, not in very good condition. Let’s have a look at the other one…”

  Sarah’s chubbiness might’ve just done her a favor. Richard was moving up the room, Sid and the two guards trailing behind. I glanced at Polly… She was dead white; I could actually see her trembling. Oh no, she wasn’t, was she?

  Richard and Sid stopped in front of us.

  “Here’s the other, a nice O+, C18c…” Richard’s eyes ran up and down Polly’s trim figure. “Oh yes, looks close to Prime Condition already. This one will do nicely.” He flicked his fingers at the guards. They stepped forward and took hold of Polly’s arms. Every last hue drained from her face and she tried to pull away.

  “Please don’t take me!” she gasped. “I’m really unfit, really, really unfit, you don’t want me!”

  Richard didn’t appear to hear her. He was engrossed in his clipboard, no doubt reading Polly’s entry. He tilted it to show something to Sid.

  “Excellent,” said Sid, and they both turned to go.

  “Please! Please!” cried Polly, struggling wildly, but the two guards dragged her along easily. “Please!”

  My heart thudded in my chest, helplessness choking me. I couldn’t help her… anyway, fear flowed through my veins instead of blood, paralyzing me…

  “Please!” screamed Polly, throwing herself from side to side as she tried to break free. “Please don’t take me, please don’t take me! Please, please… why don’t you take her! Why don’t you take her!” She jerked her head at Sarah as she was towed past. “Please, take her, look, she doesn’t even understand, take her, please… please…”

  The two men in their white coats walked on as though the room were silent, still engrossed in their clipboard.

  “Oh, that’s good,” said Sid. “Shame about the ears, but they’ll be glad of that…”

  The door slammed behind them and the sound of Polly’s begging echoed its way along the corridor and muffled, descended the further stairwell, to be finally cut off by the closing of another, distant door.

  The room erupted into nervous whispers, but grief for Polly and dismay at my own weakness rooted me to the spot. There was nothing you could do, Margo. But if there had been, would I have acted? Or just stood, trembling, hoping it would not be me? What if they did come, some time before our months of Prime Condition, for one of my own tissue type? Do for your neighbor what you would have them do for you, and all that?

  I shuddered as a cold finger seemed to run down my spine.

  “Margy, Margy, what wrong?” Sarah was clutching me, unsettled by the fear and distress filling the room. I forced the thoughts to the back of my mind, slipped an arm around her and smiled.

  “It’s all right, Sarah. Polly has to go and stay somewhere else now and everyone feels sorry for her because of that. But it’s a very nice place she’s going, so she’ll be right as rain. Don’t you worry about it. We’re going to have dinner now, are you hungry?”

  Sarah nodded eagerly and looked around as Jane came up, her face pale and pinched.

  “Hi, Jane,” Sarah greeted her.

  “Hi… what’s her name again?”

  “Why don’t you ask her?”

  “Sarah!” Sarah said, unasked, tapping her chest. “You’re Jane with pretty skin. I’m Sarah. Sarah knows names.”

  Jane just snorted, but... secretly flattered?

  “Yep, you always remember names, don’t you?” I tried to speak lightly. “Your hair’s all over the place, you know.”

  “Hair!” Sarah went off to find her brush and Jane glared after her.

  “Why didn’t they pick her? It wouldn’t have bothered her, would it?”

  “They have no more right to take Sarah than to take Polly,” I said tightly, seething inside.

  “Right?” snorted Jane. “You open the law book and I think you’ll find they do. But they acted like Polly wasn’t even human!”

  And Sarah wasn’t? Fortunately, at that moment the door opened and a female guard stuck her head in.

  “Dinner,” she said brightly. “Come along, girls.”

  Wow, a friendly face!

  The food was bland, as Jane predicted, and no doubt very nutritious. I sat at a table with Jane, Sarah, Harriet and Caroline, and Rebecca joined us. Jane was right that Rebecca was smart, but she’d a problem with her bones, so here she was. How was Jonathan Revan getting on, over with those feral boys? How would he fit into a pack mentality?

  We were sent up to fetch our towels after dinner so we could have showers, then we were shut back into our dormitory. I would’ve liked to speak to the Old Year, but there was such a crush around the hole in the wall that I spent the time meeting some more of my companions in distress instead. Thank goodness the loose brick wasn’t over my bunk, but cheerful Annie didn’t seem to mind.

  At nine-thirty the woman guard unlocked the door so we could go to the washrooms and at ten she locked it again and switched off the lights. The whispering continued but

  I drew the blankets over my head and tried to concentrate on my prayers. I’d memorized as many as I could—certainly no question of having anything of that nature on my bookReader.

  Memorized or not, the empty bunk beneath me kept forcing itself into my mind. Had Sid and Richard finished yet? Was Polly all packed away in neat little bags in the Lab freezer, awaiting collection in the morning? I shuddered and tried to concentrate. But the words of my final nighttime prayer stuck in my throat.

  It was the most difficult prayer I knew, but with my Sorting in mind, I’d made a point of saying it for several years now. But this night, try as I might, I could not seem to mouth the words into the darkness. I fell back on saying the rosary on my fingers, choosing to meditate on the Sorrowful Mysteries—what else tonight?

  Once I’d finished, the painless fate that awaited me had shrunk a little beside Our Lord’s agonizing execution and I was finally able to whisper the last prayer into my pillow.

  “Domine, jam nunc quodcumque mortis genus prout Tibi placuerit, cum omnibus suis poenis ac doloribus suscipio.” O Lord, I now, at this moment, accept whatever kind of death it may please You to send me, with all its pains and sorrows.

&
nbsp; I dropped asleep feeling as though I’d just run a spiritual marathon. Amen, Domine, Amen.

  ***+***

  4

  REASSIGNEES

  Why was my bed so uncomfortable? My mattress felt twice as hard as usual. I rolled over sleepily—ouch!—my elbow had struck something very solid. My eyes flew open. Gray concrete cinder blocks. My heart plummeted. No longer a human being. Just a reAssignee, waiting to die.

  Assaulted by a sudden wave of self-pity, I buried myself in happier memories.

  Staring out over the sports ground, I hoped I’d be able to find Bane. The field was packed; high, temporary fencing encircled it. An unusually massive stage had been built at one end, flanked by huge screens, high powered lights blazing expensively all around.

  Clouds rolled through the night sky, tantalizing everyone with brief glimpses of an occasional star. You could see people making mental inventories of raincoats and blankets as they waited in line.

  “ID.”

  The gate guard shot another unconscious glance upwards as I displayed my ID card and swiped it through the reader. The machine made a happy peeping sound. One harmless sixteen-year-old, not supposedly dead or of any interest to the EuroGov whatsoever. I moved on. Look for my parents and the picnic first or find Bane? Perhaps Bane had already found the food... and the gel heat cube.

  I rubbed my gloved hands and zipped my coat up higher. New Year. How many countries in the EuroBloc actually had weather suitable for outdoor events in January? Like they cared. This madness had been going on for years and the stage was heated, or so I’d heard.

  “Please make your way into the sports ground and find places as efficiently as possible,” boomed the loud speakers. “The EuroGov Annual Summit will begin in just under one hour.”

  They switched back to loud music.

  “Hey, Margo!” Sue was waving to me, mini-skirted despite the chill. “Come dance.”

  “I’ll find Bane first. Go on.”

  Sue loped off towards the throng at the foot of the stage, bare shouldered after shedding her coat, and I glanced around at the familiar picnic cum party cum concert. Happening right now in every city and town across the EuroBloc. And what exactly were we celebrating? Well, this year, Salperton was celebrating the fact that the EuroGov High Committee were here, in little—oh so honored—Salperton-under-Fell.