by Dima Zales
As we pass by all the merriment, I curse my horrible fate. I’m tempted to ask the Guard what the problem is, but I know that might result in a longer Quietude.
What’s really odd is that we’re not walking toward the Quietude building. We’re heading southeast, in the opposite direction.
I glimpse another Guard. This one has a female Youth walking next to him. She’s wearing a long Birth Day summer dress that’s somewhere between pink and magenta in hue. Spotting her red hair, I realize it’s Grace, except that makes no sense. Why would she be in trouble? Did Miss Good Behavior finally manage to misbehave?
Grace sees me and raises an eyebrow but keeps walking, the epitome of obedience.
As we walk, an idea enters my now-paranoid mind. Is Grace here to give testimony? Is this reckoning related to my staring at her yesterday? Did she notice me watching her do those yoga poses? She didn’t seem aware of me when she was exercising, and she couldn’t have known what I was thinking, even if she had seen me looking. Even I don’t fully understand what came over me that morning. All I know is that it was something forbidden. Still, given Grace’s presence, I have to consider the unpleasant possibility that this walk is related to that incident. I imagine Adults asking me questions about that incident, and my cheeks burn.
Farther away, another Guard and another person are walking in our direction. As they approach, I recognize the Youth-hyena hybrid accompanying the Guard.
It’s Owen.
This pair makes more sense. Like Liam and me, Owen is no stranger to Quietudes or trouble in general. Could he be the reason we’re here? Did he tell the Adults about Liam and me filling his room with Food bars last night? That doesn’t seem like Owen. Though he’s a bully and a jackass, Owen has a code, of sorts. He’s never once ratted us out, and we’ve returned the favor. Why change that pattern now, over such a minor prank? If it came down to it, if we told the Adults about the literal shit he gave us last night, he’d be in a lot more trouble than Liam or me. Plus, how does Grace fit into everything?
This is getting really odd.
On the bright side, I think I know where they’re taking us. We’re all heading straight for the cube that is the Administrative building. I’ve been to that place a few times before, but I’m guessing Grace is very familiar with it. The building is where one goes to rat on someone, which I never have. In my case, I was brought there to hear a lecture from the Dean on the subject of ‘being a good citizen of Oasis’—something reserved for the severest troublemakers.
I can’t help but ask the Guard, “Why are we going to the Administrative building?”
The Guard doesn’t reply; he just does something with his hand.
I feel relaxed again and realize that maybe things aren’t so bad. Maybe the three of us need to help the Adults with something that has nothing to do with us being in trouble.
My Guard and I are the first to enter the building, and he leads me through the empty corridors towards the Dean’s office. Only now do I realize that the Dean, along with all the other Adults, is probably too busy with Birth Day to deal with us.
My suspicion is confirmed when we enter the waiting area. Usually there’s a receptionist here. Today, there’s only one person waiting for us.
Liam.
My usually hyperactive friend looks pretty calm, all things considered. I suspect he’s playing it cool in front of the Guard.
“Someone will be with you shortly,” the Guard says. “Don’t go anywhere.”
He gestures to lock the door leading out of the waiting room. When Adults do that, any Youth who tries the door-opening gesture doesn’t get results. However, unlike a Quietude, confinement in a room is no big deal. It can even be seen as a vacation from Lectures, since Screens and everything else work the way they usually do. The nurse does this when Liam or I pretend to be sick. I say ‘pretend’ because only a few of my visits to the nurse’s office have been for real. I bet the same goes for Liam. I don’t know about him, but I can count on my fingers the number of times I’ve been genuinely sick.
“Dude,” Liam whispers as soon as the door closes behind the Guard. “Why are we here?”
“I don’t know—” I begin to say, but the door opens again, and the two other Guards bring in Grace and Owen.
“Thank you, Albert,” says the shorter, smaller-framed Guard in a strangely textured female voice. “We’ll summon you if you’re needed.”
The taller Guard, Albert, nods and leaves the room.
As the door closes, Liam and I exchange glances. Two things are unusual about that little exchange: First, we’ve only come across a female Guard once, during an incident with a fallen tree. Second, Guards never call each other by their first names in front of us.
Judging by the canine alertness on Owen’s face, he also noticed at least one of these irregularities.
“Please sit,” the female Guard says to Owen and Grace. “Theodore, be prepared to talk to us in a minute.” She makes the door-locking gesture and says, “Let me just set things up.”
She heads into the Dean’s office.
As soon as the door closes behind the Guard, Owen jumps to his feet and looks at me. “Why-Odor?”
I don’t say anything, but I’m gripped by sudden anger—anger more potent than anything I’ve experienced since childhood. Did Owen’s stupid nickname cause it?
Oblivious to my emotional state, Owen gives Liam a onceover and says, “Li-Li-Kins? Did one of you stoop to ratting? Is that why your little girlfriend is here?” He glares at Grace before saying to Liam, “Did you decide to take lessons from the biggest snitch in the Institute?”
Grace looks like he slapped her. Her eyes glint with moisture.
Surprisingly, I feel bad for her. She must be so overwhelmed over getting into trouble with us. Also, seeing her upset makes me angrier, even if what Owen said isn’t exactly undeserved. I guess I just don’t like seeing anyone get bullied. I suppress my emotions, reminding myself that we’re a shout away from the Guards.
“How was your dinner, Slowen?” Liam asks, using a nickname for Owen that never caught on.
“You mean the stuff you left me?” Owen replies without hesitation. “It wasn’t so bad, compared to yours. Speaking of which, did you eat everything I left you, Theo, or did you guys have to split it?”
Without fully understanding what I’m doing, I get up.
Owen gives me an uncaring look and says, “Do you want to dance with me? You should wait till all this is over—”
“If you don’t shut the fuck up, your new nickname will be Swollen,” I say, my teeth grinding painfully in my effort to rein in my anger.
Liam gets up and stands behind me.
Grace gives me a horrified look.
Belatedly, I realize I said the F-word in front of her. My Quietude is a guarantee now, even if the Guards brought us here on benign business.
Owen looks ecstatic, as he also understands this fact.
Seething, I ball my hands into fists. He provoked me on purpose, on Birth Day of all days. Maybe I was wrong about him possessing a code.
The anticipation of losing all that Birth Day fun feeds my fury, and I step toward Owen. If I’m going to miss out on Birth Day anyway, I might as well get satisfaction of a different kind.
There’s a glimmer of fear in Owen’s eyes.
I feel a hand on my shoulder, and Liam says, “Dude, what the hell are you doing?”
I exhale.
He’s right.
Was I about to hit Owen?
What the hell is going on with me?
The door opens.
A helmeted head peeks out, and a female voice says, “Theo, please join us.”
8
I unclench my fists before the female Guard can see them. Taking a calming breath, I walk toward the door.
I can’t help but notice she’s the first Guard, and a rare Adult, to call me ‘Theo’ instead of ‘Theodore.’ Another oddity, albeit a smaller one.
“Sit there
,” says the male Guard, nodding toward one of the Dean’s guest chairs.
He takes the Dean’s chair and the female Guard sits to the side, on another guest chair.
This little exchange sets a record for the longest conversation I’ve ever had with a Guard. Of course, I don’t mention that, knowing full well that speaking will likely get me into more trouble.
“I need you to do as I tell you,” says the male Guard, his voice icy. “If you do, you’ll be out of here quickly.”
“Please,” the female Guard adds in a softer tone. “I can imagine how much you want to get back to Birth Day.”
It might be my imagination, but did she turn her helmet toward her colleague in a show of disapproval? Why would she do that? Are they playing ‘good cop, bad cop,’ like in the ancient movies?
“I’ll do as you tell me,” I say as evenly as I can. Then, with a little bitterness, I add, “It’s not like I have a choice.”
“Good,” says the male Guard. “Put your hand to your chest.”
“Huh?” I look into his mirrored helmet, but all I see is the spherically distorted reflection of my own puzzled face.
“Like this,” the female guard says, placing her arm across her chest.
“Stop stalling,” the male voice says sternly.
I cautiously raise my hand to my chest, and the female Guard nods in approval.
“Say, ‘I consent to the Lens of Truth and swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,’” the male Guard says.
“What?” I look from one Guard to the other.
The male Guard drums his fingers on the desk. “Do you want a Quietude?”
I vigorously shake my head.
“Then say, ‘I consent to the Lens of Truth.’”
“I consent to the Lens of Truth,” I say, but in a small act of defiance, I do my best to sound as unenthusiastic as I can.
“And swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” he prompts.
“And swear to tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” I repeat robotically.
A peculiar sensation washes over me. It feels as though a phase of Oneness suddenly emerged inside my consciousness, except I feel incorporeal. During Oneness, I feel connected to imaginary, faraway galaxies and stars, but now, it’s as if I’m no longer inhabiting my body… as if I’m some kind of ancient spirit.
“State your name,” comes a voice.
From where I’m ‘floating,’ I can’t tell which Guard asked me the question. Then suddenly, back in my body, my mouth moves without my volition. It says, “Theodore.”
From my perch outside my body, I find it more than odd that my mouth can speak without me willing it. And why did it use such a formal version of my name?
“How old are you, Theodore?” a voice asks.
“I turned twenty-four today,” I say again without meaning to.
“Ask him something he would want to lie about,” a voice says. “Let’s make sure the compulsion really works.”
“Okay,” says what I have to assume is the other voice. “Bring up his neural scan.”
My mouth stays shut this time. They didn’t ask me a question.
“Have you done anything inappropriate today, Theodore?” a voice asks. “If not today, then how about yesterday?”
“I felt inappropriate sensations as I watched Grace do yoga,” my mouth says. I’m appalled. I want to jump back into my body and stop my stupid mouth from saying these things, but I can’t get back, no matter how much I yearn for control. As though to spite me, my mouth continues. “Additionally, I played a prank on Owen. We filled his room with Food bars.” No, I mentally scream at my mouth, but I can feel it isn’t done yet. Despite my titanic effort to silence it, my mouth opens and utters, “Finally, I used the F-word a few minutes ago.”
At least my mouth didn’t reveal that I nearly attacked Owen. I guess it doesn’t consider ‘nearly doing something’ as ‘actually doing something.’
The voices confer in hushed tones. All I hear is, “His neural activity is extremely bizarre, but the Lens is clearly working.”
“What happened to Mason, Theodore?” a voice asks. “Do you know who Mason is?”
“I don’t understand those two questions,” my mouth says. “Are you talking about the people who worked with stones? People from History Lecture? Or do you mean the secret society?”
“Did you make the Council Forget a meeting?” a voice asks.
“I don’t understand this question either,” my mouth says. “What council? What meeting?”
“Why is your neural scan so erratic?” a voice asks.
“I don’t know,” my mouth replies.
For what feels like an hour, the voice asks more of these meaningless questions. My mouth pretty much always answers, ‘No,’ interspersed with the occasional, ‘I don’t know.’
“Do you understand what has happened?” a voice finally asks.
“No,” my mouth says.
My consciousness rushes back into my body, and I instantly feel in control of my mouth and other faculties, except it’s too late. I already told them about the yoga incident and the prank, not to mention my use of vulgarity.
I’m screwed.
I look from one Guard to the other. Given their reflective helmets, it’s impossible to tell how upset or disappointed they are.
I look to the side.
There’s a large Screen with neural activity on display.
Given one of the questions I was asked, it doesn’t take a big leap to figure out that it’s my scan we’re looking at.
Examining my brain scans has been a sort of hobby of mine over the years. What I see here looks nothing like the scans I’ve seen before. The image sends a chill down my spine. Is all this abnormal activity a side effect of something they did to me?
The female Guard gets up, distracting me from my thoughts.
“Follow me,” she says, her voice oddly comforting.
She heads for the door, and I get up and follow, my feet dragging as though my shoes are filled with lead.
When I enter the waiting room, Liam, Grace, and Owen look at me questioningly. I give them a shrug and make my face into as confused an expression as I can. I don’t know what to tell them. Nothing that happened inside the Dean’s office makes sense. Of course, even if I had anything to say, it wouldn’t be safe to say it in front of the Guard.
The female Guard passes through the room, gestures for the door to open, and makes sure I exit ahead of her. She then joins me in the corridor and meticulously gestures to lock the door behind us, as though Liam and the others are crazy enough to run away under these circumstances.
Leading me down the long corridor, she brings me to a room I’ve never seen. Judging by its lofty size and a couple of comfortable couches in the middle, this is some kind of administrative lounge area.
“Stay here,” the female Guard says. “Once we’re done questioning the others, you can go back to the festivities. It shouldn’t take longer than an hour.”
As soon as she closes the door behind her, I begin to pace.
Nothing makes sense.
Why did she say I’d be going back to the festivities? I confessed to enough wrongdoings to be in Quietude for a long time. Why would they let that slide?
These thoughts bring me back to a deeper mystery: Why did I answer those questions without wanting to? And what was the purpose of those questions?
On a whim, as I circle the room, I make a door-opening gesture. I’m certain the Guard locked the door behind her, but it’s not like I have anything else to do.
To my shock, the door opens.
I step across the threshold, but the strangest thing happens.
Part of me—at least I think that’s what it is—says in a voice that’s not my own, “Don’t leave, Theo.”
This voice in my head is extremely weird for several reasons, not the least of which is that it sounds feminine.
“Sit on the couch,” the voice says. “You might
feel disoriented as I restore your memory.”
I have no idea who the voice belongs to or what it’s trying to tell me, but sitting sounds like the best idea I’ve had in a long time. I walk over to a couch and sit down.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see the door close.
A strange avalanche of sensations floods my head. I feel a horrible sense of vertigo and a sudden need to lie down.
As soon as my head touches the cushion, drowsiness overwhelms me.
I close my eyes, and my awareness goes away.
9
I open my eyes.
Did I just wake up?
Looking around the room, I find it too large to be the one Liam and I share.
Then it hits me: this is the Administrative building.
I remember what happened.
I remember everything that happened.
I also realize I’m no longer alone in the room.
A familiar pixie-haired woman is sitting next to me on the couch.
“Phoe,” I exclaim, sitting up. “I’m back.”
“Don’t talk out loud,” she says and gives me a worried smile.
I examine my memories.
As far as I can tell, they’re all back. Then again, I didn’t think I was missing any information a minute ago, when I was missing everything.
I recall Phoe and everything that happened from the very first day she spoke to me. I remember Mason from when we were little kids to his demise. I also recall, in detail, what it felt like to not remember these things. It’s like that ‘on the tip of your tongue’ sensation. After you do recall the trivial detail that eluded your brain, you can’t believe you blanked on something so basic. Except in my case, this happened with hordes of important facts.
I also realize how much easier my life was when I didn’t remember these things. How much happier I was in my ignorance.
Phoe’s fears about my split identity weren’t exactly valid. Yes, a more innocent Theo existed for a time, but he isn’t dead. He’s part of me, the Theo who’s more complete but wishes he wasn’t. I internalize everything he experienced the way I imagine drunk ancients internalized all the crazy things they did while intoxicated.