The Declaration

by Gemma Malley

  Charlotte looked down at the floor. ‘We’re Surplus,’ she said flatly. ‘We don’t want anything. We don’t have the right to desires. We are here to serve.’

  ‘Good,’ Mrs Dawson said matter-of-factly. ‘Let’s see it in practice, shall we? One after the other, I want you to cross the room in front of me. Silently, so I can’t hear a thing. Anna, you start.’

  The Surpluses gathered at the side of the room, and Anna glided across the floor as quietly as she could, followed by Sheila and Tania, all of them prompting nods of approval from Mrs Dawson. Next Surplus Harry made his way across, picking his feet up and frowning in concentration. Harry was a tall boy, with curly hair, large feet and an almost skeletal frame. He had arrived at Grange Hall in the same year as Anna, but he had more in common with Surpluses who had arrived when they were much older – he was quiet, often distracted, and wasn’t good at anything as far as Anna could tell.

  ‘I hear you,’ Mrs Dawson snapped. ‘Go back and do it again.’

  Reddening slightly, Harry went back to the side of the training room and started again, staring intently at his large feet as he tried to stop them making a sound.

  ‘No!’ Mrs Dawson shouted when he had taken just two steps. ‘You clumsy boy. Do it again.’

  Harry retreated and he wiped beads of sweat off his forehead as he started again, this time forcing himself on to tiptoes and looking nervously at Mrs Dawson. Halfway across, Mrs Dawson opened her mouth as if to speak. Harry’s eyes opened wide in anticipation of another criticism, and as they did so, he lost his balance, grabbing on to a desk as he fell to the ground, and pulling it down with him.

  Mrs Dawson stood up.

  ‘Up!’ she shrieked. ‘Stand up. You useless Surplus.’

  Harry pulled himself to his feet, apologising profusely, but Mrs Dawson was deaf to his words. She pulled his hands in front of him, placed them on a chair and then picked up the cane she always carried with her, smashing it down on Harry’s fingers. ‘Clumsy!’ she shouted. ‘You will learn not to be clumsy. Now, do it again.’

  His face white with pain and shock, Harry made his way back to where his fellow Surpluses were waiting their turn. One of his fingers was bent the wrong way and he seemed disoriented as he started to cross the room for the third time. He made it only a quarter of the way across the room before stumbling again, his entire body clenching with fear as he awaited his inevitable punishment.

  Mrs Dawson looked at him in disgust. ‘You will go without supper tonight and you will practise walking across this room all night,’ she said. ‘And if before breakfast you cannot do it silently, then you will miss all meals tomorrow and practise again the following night until you can do it properly. Do you understand?’

  Harry nodded and staggered over to where Anna, Sheila and Tania were standing. He stared at the floor nursing his bleeding hand, as Surplus Charlie’s turn was called.

  ‘She only picked on you because Surplus Peter isn’t here,’ Charlie hissed at Harry when he’d successfully crossed the room a few moments later. Then he looked meaningfully at Anna. ‘And Peter’s going to pay for it too.’

  Anna stared at him, then looked away. She didn’t care. All she’d ever wanted was to be a Valuable Asset. And she was determined that she wouldn’t care about anything else. If her lip was quivering slightly, if she felt suddenly gripped by fear and uncertainty and a feeling like she was falling, then she was fairly sure it would pass. Things generally did at Grange Hall. Mrs Pincent saw to that.

  For the rest of the day, Anna applied herself to her training sessions and chores in a way that would have made Mrs Pincent proud. She polished the floor of her dormitory, and then polished the corridor outside just for good measure. She was at Central Feeding early to help prepare that evening’s feed, and didn’t even roll her eyes when she was given the meat to prepare. As a Prefect, meat preparation was a job she was well within her rights to delegate to a younger Surplus. It was a lowly job, made harder by the fact that the kitchen knives were so blunt they barely scratched the surface of the rubbery, gristle-filled flesh they were given once a week, offcuts from the local maximarket where Legals bought their food. Instead, she performed a thorough job of boning and chopping, and all the while, she was practising being invisible, keeping her eyes lowered and her feet light. And as she worked, she focused her mind on the task at hand by repeating Evening Vows to herself.

  I vow to serve, to pay my dues

  And train myself for Legal use.

  I vow to bear the Surplus shame

  And repay Nature for the same

  I vow to listen, not to speak;

  To steel myself when I am weak.

  I vow to work and most of all

  To serve the State if it should call.

  Evening Vows were said every night before bedtime. They reminded Surpluses of their Place in life, Mrs Pincent said. Not that Surpluses could have a purpose, not really; that would suggest they had a reason for existing, when they didn’t. But it gave them a sense of what they were to do with their lives, of how they were to pay Mother Nature and the State back for looking after them, when really they should have been tossed back where they came from.

  Anna could never really understand how that would work; where would they be tossed back to? But she didn’t ask, just in case Mrs Pincent decided to show her.

  She frowned, and stood up to put the prepared meat in the large vat for cooking.

  But as she did so, she felt someone coming up behind her, and turned suddenly, to see the face of Surplus Charlie just a foot away from hers. Surplus Charlie was also a Prefect, but where Anna exercised her authority through firm words, a belief in rules and a much talked about closeness with Mrs Pincent, Charlie’s authority stemmed primarily from his size. At fifteen, he wasn’t particularly tall for his age, but what he lacked in height he made up for in bulk, partly because of a natural muscularity, and partly because he regularly commandeered the food from other boys at his table, who would readily give up their bread or broth in spite of their hollow, aching stomachs because the alternative was far worse than hunger. Charlie could torment a boy until he no longer had bladder control; could dole out such horrific punishments that Solitary seemed a welcome respite.

  Today, his face was swollen, something that Anna had registered in Decorum, but hadn’t dwelt on. Surpluses regularly sported bruises and cuts – the result of punishments, fights and games. No one asked why a cheek was red or a hand wrapped in a makeshift bandage, and unless the injury was very serious, no treatment was ever sought – or given. Only on very rare occasions was a doctor sent for. It had only happened twice during Anna’s time at Grange Hall, once for a boy who broke his leg in several places during a game, and once when a new Surplus had a fever. Illness was feared by Surpluses. Without Longevity drugs, they were vulnerable to any number of viruses and ailments, but few admitted their discomfort until it was absolutely necessary; Mrs Pincent had made it clear many times that sickness was a sign of weakness. Illness suggested that Mother Nature didn’t think you’d ever be Useful and wanted to ‘weed you out early’.

  That’s what had happened to the new Surplus. She had something called a fever and she died, in the end. Bad genes, Mrs Pincent told Anna a few weeks later. It was ‘for the best’.

  Anna looked briefly at Charlie. His lip was bloody and his left eye was barely visible, hidden behind the cheek that had inflated protectively around it. It was odd, Anna thought to herself, slightly nervously, how Charlie looked even more threatening when he was injured.

  ‘So now I know who to blame if the meat’s ruined,’ Charlie said sneeringly as Anna narrowed her eyes at him.

  ‘What do you want, Surplus Charlie? You shouldn’t be in the kitchen,’ she said, trying her hardest not to shrink back at the mere sight of him. She turned back to the vat and continued to scrape the meat into it, but she could feel his eyes boring into her neck and it made her uncomfortable.

  ‘Your little friend,’ he said in a low voic
e. ‘Where is he?’

  Anna frowned and looked at him uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said evenly. ‘I don’t have friends, Charlie.’

  Charlie moved closer so that Anna could feel his breath on the back of her neck. ‘Surplus Peter,’ he said coldly. ‘Where is he?’

  Anna stopped what she was doing. Charlie was in Peter’s dormitory. If he didn’t know where Peter was, then who did?

  Cautiously, she turned round. ‘Why do you want to know where Peter is?’ she asked.

  Charlie smirked. ‘I knew it. So, he went running to you, did he?’ He shook his head slowly. ‘You know that Surplus is trouble, don’t you, Anna? You know that he deserves everything he gets. And you do too.’

  Anna gripped the knife she was holding.

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she said flatly, forcing herself to look Charlie in the eye, to show that he didn’t intimidate her. He was no threat, she reminded herself. She was a Prefect. She wasn’t a weak Surplus ripe for bullying.

  Charlie shrugged. ‘If he went running to you, it won’t make any difference. He had it coming. Needs to learn some respect. Mrs Pincent understands, you know, Anna. She knows that Peter only got what he deserved, so there’s no point telling her any different. You think you’re her favourite Surplus, but you’re not. She pities you.’

  Anna felt her stomach clench in anger. ‘No one pities me, Surplus Charlie,’ she growled.

  Charlie smirked, and leant down closer to Anna. ‘Everyone pities you, Surplus Anna. Peter especially,’ he said, his voice menacing. ‘Why do you think he tries to protect you? Because he thinks you’re pathetic, that’s why.’

  Anna stared at him, her eyes wide. ‘Protect me?’ she asked uncertainly. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘I’m talking about this,’ Charlie growled, opening his overalls to reveal a large greeny-black bruise stretching across his chest. ‘He’s a maniac. And all because I said the most useful thing they could do with you is to put you out of your Surplus misery. I meant it too.’

  Anna could feel Charlie’s breath on her forehead and she jutted out her chin to show him she wasn’t scared.

  ‘Wherever he is,’ Charlie continued menacingly, ‘I’ll find him. I kicked his head in because he deserved it and I’ll do it again too. I’ll kill him if I have to. Mrs Pincent won’t care. And I’ll be sure to make it look like an accident, don’t you worry about that.’

  Before Anna could say anything in response, Charlie walked off, just missing a Domestic who had come to check on Anna’s work.

  ‘Hurry up,’ she shouted angrily, staring at the still raw contents of the vat. ‘Get on with it, you lazy Surplus.’

  ‘Yes,’ Anna said, her voice level in spite of her racing mind. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll be quicker now.’

  She added boiling water along with a packet of powdered stock to add bulk to the stew, but as she stirred the mixture, all thoughts of Evening Vows had left her head. Instead, all she could think about was Peter. About the trouble he was in. About the conviction, deep down inside of her, that she had to tell him, had to warn him. She knew it was out of the question; knew that it would mean breaking every rule that she had so vigorously upheld for most of her life. But she also knew that she didn’t have a choice. Peter was her friend, however much she tried to deny it. And Anna, who had never before allowed her heart’s voice to be heard, was now unwillingly and unavoidably in its thrall.

  At 1 a.m., Anna lay awake in her bed, contemplating what she was about to do, working out how long it would take her to get to Solitary to see if Peter was there, how likely it was that she would disturb a Surplus in her dorm or, worse, get caught once outside. There were no longer cameras along the corridors of Grange Hall – those that had been installed originally had proved too expensive to run and there was no money for replacements. But Mrs Pincent didn’t need cameras to keep the Surpluses at Grange Hall in their beds at night; she preferred to rely on good, old-fashioned fear, preferred to stalk the corridors herself when she couldn’t sleep, which was often. If Anna was caught out of bed, she’d be beaten; if she was found making her way to Solitary, she couldn’t conceive of a punishment severe enough.

  Gingerly, she sat up and looked around the small, cramped dormitory that had once served as the office to the Director of Operations, Department of Revenue and Benefits. There were ten beds in all, with little space between, each with a steel frame and thin mattress. On nine of them, female Pending Surpluses slept, hair splayed over their pillows and hands curled into little fists, a situation replicated all the way down the hall in all the other dormitories containing all the other Surpluses.

  Trying not to think too much about what she was doing, Anna eased herself out of bed and winced as her feet touched the cold, hard floor.

  Softly, recalling her Decorum practice, she slipped silently out of the dormitory and down the corridor. Grange Hall was strangely silent – even the Smalls seemed to be asleep. A surge of fear gripped her. She felt so exposed, so utterly vulnerable, alone in the darkness, her toes clenching against the coldness of the floor. With five hundred Surpluses and thirty staff, the Surpluses were rarely alone at Grange Hall; to be so now felt both terrifying and exhilarating at the same time.

  Slipping through doors, down the stairs and then along the cold, damp and dark corridor that ran along the basement of the building, Anna finally found herself approaching the Solitary cells. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself.

  ‘This better be worth it, Surplus Peter,’ she muttered to herself as she turned the corner.

  But then she stopped abruptly and slipped back behind the wall. There, outside one of the three Solitary cells, was Mrs Pincent, with two men, one of whom was carrying Peter through the large, metal door.

  Anna frowned, trying to work out what was happening. Was he ill? Where were they bringing him from?

  Anna felt her heart beating loudly in her chest, and held her breath, peeking round the corner to see what was happening. She was fairly sure no one had seen her, but if Mrs Pincent and the two men were planning to go back upstairs via Staircase 3, she would be trapped. There would be nowhere she could hide – the stark grey corridor had nothing but the locked doors to store cupboards, and there was no way she could outrun them either; they were just a few metres away.

  But to her immense relief, once the men had deposited Peter and locked the door of his cell, they turned and followed Mrs Pincent the other way along the corridor.

  ‘You’ll get your money upstairs,’ she heard Mrs Pincent say as they walked away. ‘And if you say one word about this to anyone, the Authorities will find out about your little black market ventures, do you understand?’

  Anna heard the men grunt in reply, and waited until their footsteps could no longer be heard, then stealthily slipped round the corner towards the door of Peter’s cell.

  ‘Peter,’ she whispered. ‘Peter, can you hear me? It’s Anna.’

  Chapter Nine

  It took five minutes of whispering and lightly knocking on the cell door before Anna got any response from Peter, and even then it wasn’t much more than a moan.

  ‘Peter, is that you?’

  There was a pause, then she heard a shuffle. It sounded like Peter coming closer to the door. She felt scared and relieved and embarrassed all at the same time.

  ‘Anna?’

  His voice was muffled and sounded sleepy.

  ‘Yes. I . . . I just wanted to check that you were OK. I didn’t know where you were, and then Surplus Charlie . . . I just wanted to check you were here,’ Anna said awkwardly. She shivered violently and wished she’d thought to bring her blanket with her now.

  ‘Anna. You’re here.’

  Anna frowned. ‘Are you OK?’ she whispered. ‘You sound funny. Did Charlie hurt you really badly?’

  She heard Peter yawn.

  ‘My head,’ she heard him say. ‘I feel . . . They gave me something. An injection. I feel woozy. How long
have I been here?’

  Anna frowned. ‘You didn’t have an injection, Peter. Surplus Charlie kicked your head. He told me. But why are you in Solitary? Did Mrs Pincent find you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Peter said vaguely. ‘I remember the fight. But Mrs Pincent got me out of bed later and brought me down here. At night-time. They gave me an injection . . . What time is it?’

  Anna looked at her wrist.

  ‘Half past one,’ she said, her heart sinking as she realised just how little sleep she was going to get tonight.

  ‘Look, I can’t stay,’ she said quickly. ‘I just had to warn you about Charlie. He wants to kill you, he said. I didn’t know where you were, so —’

  ‘I can handle Charlie,’ Peter said, his voice beginning to sound a bit more normal. ‘But Anna, don’t go. Not yet. Stay and talk to me.’

  Anna felt her face flush slightly and bit her lip self-consciously. The floor was freezing and damp under her bare feet, but still she sat down.

  ‘You can’t defend me, you know,’ she said awkwardly. ‘You can’t let Surplus Charlie bully you. I can take care of myself. You’re in enough trouble as it is.’

  ‘I don’t care about trouble,’ Peter said flatly.

  ‘You can’t say that!’ Anna said agitatedly. ‘When you get out . . . you have to learn how to behave.’

  ‘If I get out,’ Peter said darkly.

  Anna sighed. ‘Of course you’ll get out, Peter. You just have to Learn Your Lesson, that’s all.’

  ‘And what lesson’s that?’ Peter asked, his voice irritable. ‘Don’t get born? Don’t have an opinion? Don’t tell Charlie that he’s a bully and an oaf?’

  Anna’s eyes opened wide. ‘You said that?’

  ‘Yes, I said that. And he and five others thought they’d use my head as a football. I’m assuming that’s why I’m down here. They must have run to Mrs Pincent afterwards and said I started it or something.’

  Anna frowned. ‘Charlie didn’t say anything about telling Mrs Pincent,’ she said. ‘He didn’t know where you were either.’