The Fall of Chance

by McGowan, Terry

  Unt felt betrayed at his friend’s casual insult. It couldn’t go unanswered so in spite of himself, he hit back saying, “You might end up a Medic, Bull, but I’ll be Councillor and when that happens, I’ll snap her up before you have a chance.” It was nonsense but he had to peg Bull back.

  Bull was about to laugh it off when he saw red. So did they all, literally. They’d spotted a red shirt at the edge of the group and the man wearing it was Rob. He had stopped and was looking at them. Had he heard what they’d said? He was at that vague range where ‘within earshot’ could vary wildly.

  They all eyed him warily, Unt most of all. If he’d heard, surely he’d be laying into them right now. Rob never stooped to fighting but no-one doubted he could take any one of them. He wasn’t doing anything though, just staring. Maybe he’d heard a little part and only suspected what was said.

  A few of the boys tried greeting him sheepishly but he just ignored them. After several terrifying seconds, he simply walked away.

  As he went from sight they all shared a laugh of the guilty. “Councillor?” laughed Colun, “You’re not going to be any Councillor, Truffles. If you weren’t going to be involved in farms before, you will now: that’s when some plough scrapes you out of the grave Rob’s dumped you in.”

  That was a rallying cry to Bull. The brief trade of insults between him and Unt was forgotten as he rose to Unt’s defence. He cut into Colun with a string of witty put-downs that Unt could never have come up with. In a minute, the group discussion was dissolved and the Bull-Colun conflict took centre stage.

  Unt let the argument go over and past him and kept up with the sparring from the rhythm of their patter alone. He might have been the trigger for it but it soon had a life of its own.

  Bull was getting the best of it, sprawled casually over the horse’s neck as he tossed back insults. It wasn’t long before Colun found some excuse to leave and drifted off into the deepening darkness. A shrill note in the background marked his opening salvo at his next target.

  2. The Street Less-Travelled

  Unt perched himself beneath the foot of the horse, chin resting on his raised knees, watching the scene as night took command. He looked across at Fate Hall and considered its imposing frontage.

  It was a grand building - far grander than anything else in town. It had been built in the early days when the colony was very young. It was its centre-piece, its foundation and its heart. It was built to be a lasting statement of the colony’s intent to prosper and it had been invested with all the love and attention that statement demanded. It was cultivated from expertly cut blocks of stone and was embellished with craftsmen’s finest work from the joinery to the rugs, the curtains to the fittings. It dominated the Square and the town beyond.

  When it was full-dark the doors of the Hall opened and a pair of men in black tunics stepped out with unlit torches. With a great air of ceremony they went over to the braziers, lit their torches and stepped out into the Square, taking their light to the remaining fixtures. This was all part of the nightly routine and it turned few heads but still, everyone seemed to be aware of it.

  When the men were done, they returned to the Hall. They solemnly extinguished their brands in a waiting water butt and returned to the Hall’s interior gloom. A few moments later, seven men emerged, walking in a V-formation like birds in slow-moving flight. These were the Councillors and their off-white robes matched the general greyness of their hair. The crowd’s casual observance of the fire-lighters grew until it gathered the attention of all.

  Every night, the Councillors would come out to address the people and mostly folk didn’t listen but tonight they fell silent. At the head of the V was Councillor Pello. The Councillors took it in turns to lead the nightly address and tonight looked to be the turn of their oldest member.

  To Pello’s left and right were Hodd and Taylor. Hodd was one of only two Councillors from the second generation: the remaining five were all founders belonging to the first generation. Kelly, stood behind Taylor, was the other younger Councillor and behind him was Erk. On the other side, behind Hodd were Councillors Brooker and Lasper.

  Unt was only passingly familiar with most of these old men. When his parents had died, they had all been attentive to the orphaned boy but as time passed, so had their interest. The one that Unt remembered best, the one who had been kindest to him, was Councillor Conway but he was one of the two who had died in the years since.

  Unt had met Pello during Work Experience. Before their Fall of Chance, every teenager spent time in each of the professions to determine where they were best-suited. While they were with the Councillors, Unt’s group had been assigned to Pello and although he had seemed genial enough, he hadn’t seemed sure what to do with four teenagers. He had impressed on them the importance of the Fall keenly and often but he hadn’t really shown them much about the work itself.

  The other Councillor who Unt knew by more than reputation was Lasper. Councillor Lasper was Rob’s father. Most of the parents of Unt’s generation had been about the same as his own but Rob’s mother and father were older. Parenthood had come late to them - too late for his mother who had died giving birth.

  By all reports, the experience had embittered Lasper. He was thin and reedy with a haughty attitude but doted on his son. Rather than hate the child who had robbed him of his wife, Lasper transferred his love for her to his son. He had been a frequent player in Unt’s childhood, often interfering at school on the lookout for Rob’s interests.

  Nobody was supposed to get preferential treatment from any Councillor, especially a relative. Lasper was always pushing the boundaries but never tested them too far. All the kids knew him to be mean and irritable and they kept out of his way whenever they could.

  Lurking in the shadows behind Lasper, distinctive in his red shirt, was Rob. He was the only person who could abide being so close to the Councillor and the only person Lasper would choose to have near him.

  Unt let his attention go back to Pello as the old man raised his arms. The motion quelled what was left of the ambient noise. Pello turned his face a little skyward and the firelight caught his glasses at such an angle that the lenses seemed filled with flame.

  “Citizens!” This single toll rang soundly from its worn and aged castings. “I bid you good evening. Let us give thanks to one another for attending this night’s society.”

  The chorus went out: “I thank you all”.

  Unt had heard the same words every night of his life since he’d been old enough to come to Promenade. The words normally failed to register in his consciousness, as routine things tend to do, but tonight he felt the meaning behind them. Perhaps it was Pello delivering them with greater gravitas than normal, or maybe it was the occasion, but Unt found himself actually leaning in to listen.

  “Tonight is a very special night. Tomorrow is the day of selection, the Fall of Chance and so, for a portion of our number, tonight is the last night of childhood.

  “The Fall is a special occasion for all of us and it is right that we should call tonight the Pride because we have much to be proud about. All of us have helped raise these children and now they are ready to take their part in our great society. The fruits of our collective labours are ready to be gathered and bear seeds of their own.

  “Naturally, most credit goes to the parents, friends, family and, of course, the children themselves, But each of us has played some small role whether we have felt it or not. That is the nature of a society: we all have our own part to carry out for the benefit of the whole.

  “Everybody contributes, therefore every post is equally important and I would ask our young people to bear that in mind tomorrow. You may have an idea of what post you want. Some will get their wish, some won’t, but to those who don’t I ask you not to despair. Your part will be no less vital than the one you would have chosen. The end is the same just as who you are stays the same.

  “Tomorrow, we welcome one hundred and seventeen new colleagues into our work
force and fifty six unions will bring new life to our community. Those of us who have been with us from the start are now in our twilight years and it gives us great pleasure to see a new generation come through, leaving our community in a position of strength. May this ideal we all share remain secure for many years to come.

  “In coming of age there is great happiness, not only for those reaching adulthood but for everyone. Soon, some of you will be welcoming new colleagues into your place of work: may you extend them the warmest of welcomes. May the same be true for those of you who are welcoming new neighbours.

  “For those of you who face this new world, enjoy your new lives but do not forget the family who raised you. Likewise, to those families, do not consider this a parting but continue as part of each others’ lives as we all continue to be part of the greater family.”

  He smiled. “And that, I think, is enough patronising rambling from this old man. It’s time to rejoice and to feast. Now, go and enjoy yourselves!”

  With Pello’s closing words, new figures emerged from the doorway of the Hall. Lines of people bearing steel-lidded platters threaded between the standing Councillors. This was another part of the daily routine: the communal feast.

  In truth, it was rarely much of a feast. The Council would roll early in the day to decide what would be served and normally it was little more than bread and vegetables. It was hot food to keep people warm on cold nights, not food that would excite the palate, but on special days, a modifier was added to increase the chance of serving something more exciting. Today looked to be following the plan: a few brightly coloured marks on the soup urns promised something vibrant within.

  As the food-bearers worked through the crowd to the marble table that bordered the fountain there was a shift among the people there. People turned and followed the food en-mass. It was like iron filings being drawn by a magnet. Unt wasn’t immune to the pull himself but it wouldn’t be right to seem too eager. He affected the same indifference of the other boys, all the while knowing that the best stuff would be gone before the unspeaking group consciousness decided it was all right to be hungry.

  If for nothing else but to keep his eyes off the food, Unt cast a hooded glance at the girls’ corner. Straight away he noticed Rob’s shirt moving easily among them. Rob had that unique power: he could pass from one sex to the other with ease. He was immune to the rule that said you must gather here and look over there. He could mingle among the girls as freely as he did with his own kind and he was welcomed by them.

  Rob had an animal authority, an assumption of entitlement that was automatic. Unt wanted to hate him for it but he couldn’t. He envied him, yes, but for Rob, dominating a social space was so natural you couldn’t blame him for it. He didn’t do it with ego: it was just his good fortune that he could.

  Unt watched Rob as he threaded from one group of girls to another. It was like changing partners in a dance. Unt expected him to make a bee-line for Crystal but she didn’t even seem to be there. What was he doing?

  He stopped and talked with Mélie, Olissa and a third girl, Frid. Frid was a dumpy tomboy who was always in khaki and was destined for the Engineers. Why would he be talking to them? Was he trying his luck while the cat was away? Maybe they’d had a falling out?

  But then Unt saw his answer. Crystal emerged from the crowd right beneath Rob, Mélie and the others. It seemed impossible that she could have been hidden by a mere mass of bodies. She wore a lilac dress and seemed to have her own purple glow about her. She enticed the eye like bait wriggling on a hook but here she wasn’t the one playing the lure. Unt thought he saw what Rob was doing: if there was one thing that was sure to draw a girl who liked you it was talking to other girls.

  A blow between the shoulder blades nearly tilted him from his perch. “Grub’s up,” said Bulton.

  Unt looked at the queue for the food. “It’s still busy.”

  “That’s because all the good stuff’s getting eaten. Come on! It’ll all be gone if we don’t get a shift on. I think I see a slab of tomato flatbread with my name on it.”

  Unt could have thanked Bull and his insatiable stomach but still he looked back to the others. “Anyone else coming?”

  “No, they’re all morose idiots like yourself,” said Bull.

  “Morose is a bit of a big word for you.”

  “How about decapitation? Anyway, what’s big is the hole in my stomach.”

  “It’ll be big to match your stomach if you don’t stop eating.”

  “If I get a wife who can’t cook I might just do that. The way I see it, this could be our best chance of a decent meal for a long time. Now, pick up those bandy legs of yours and come get some food with me.”

  With that, Bull bodily hauled him to his feet and they wandered back into the throng. Bull elbowed his way in near the queue, ignoring the protests of those already standing behind.

  “You ready for tomorrow?” Bull asked from out of nowhere.

  “What?” asked Unt, taken off-guard. Bull’s eyes seemed to look everywhere but at Unt, as though he hadn’t asked the question.

  “Are you ready?” Bull repeated, head scanning the Square.

  “You’re not nervous are you?” Unt laughed. In all the years he’d known Bulton, this was as uncertain as Unt had ever seen him. Maybe there was some doubt under that guileless veneer.

  Unt felt the press of something cold, metallic and flat in his palm. “I was going to ask you the same thing.”

  Automatically, Unt looked down and felt a boot kick his own. He took the hint and looked away to the fountain but his glimpse had been enough. He’d caught the polished gleam of a hipflask, the curve of metal and now he could feel the liquid rolling inside.

  “A bit of advice from my father,” Bull muttered. His mask of innocence failed and he couldn’t stop a grin from escaping.

  Unt slipped the flask up his sleeve, one-handed. He fiddled with the screw cap, working blind and was hindered by a sudden lurch in the queue. Finally, he got it undone. Keeping the bottle so it stayed upright, he faked a cough and under the guise of covering his mouth, took a gulp. The fake cough instantly became genuine as the coarse liquid etched a fiery path down his throat.

  “Hard-hitting advice, you could say!” laughed Bulton as Unt palmed the liquor back. “It was his parting gift to me and I’m sure he’d want you to benefit too.”

  Unt could feel the alcohol’s warmth coursing through his body. “And did he know he was giving such strong advice?”

  Bull shrugged. “Maybe not at the time, but I’m sure he’ll see in the morning.”

  “And did you make a roll to see if you should take it?”

  “For precious paternal advice? Only two dots would stop me heeding it.”

  ‘Two dots’ was a double-one on the dice. Bull was saying he’d rolled to see if he would take the booze but only a score of two would stop him. That put him in murky waters. It was a crime to fix odds when making a professional decision but for personal matters, everyone could devise their own odds. It wasn’t illegal to stack them like Bull had but it was frowned upon.

  Where Bull might have broken the law was if he set odds that encouraged criminal behaviour. If he took the booze without permission, which it seemed he had, or if they were caught drinking underage, then his actions fell into that category and that spelled possible trouble.

  Unt wasn’t really worried about any criminal charges. Theft would need Bull’s dad to press charges and as for drinking underage, well, they’d be adults tomorrow. There was, however, time for bad behaviour to influence the Fall and that made Unt nervous.

  Bull took a swig behind an unconvincing burp and passed the flask back. Doubting he could sell another cough, Unt made a show of scratching his ear and snatched at some more.

  “Hey, Unt.”

  The stereo interruption of girls’ voices made him turn his head and mouth open. Warm liquid dribbled down his chin as he turned to face Mélie and Olissa.

  “Hey,” he answered la
mely, quickly trying to wipe away the evidence.

  “Ladies!” beamed Bull, putting on his grandest voice. Mélie smiled awkwardly but Olissa was less guarded and fixed him a withering glance.

  “You guys getting food?” asked Mélie.

  “Mind if we join you?” asked Olissa.

  “Sure,” shrugged Unt in his best attempt at a casual manner. Straight away, he worried he’d oversold it and just sounded bored.

  “The more the merrier!” Bull’s enthusiasm rescued him.

  So the girls shuffled into the queue, squeezing in with the boys. The people behind muttered angrily but Unt didn’t notice. Mélie was pressed so close he could feel the warmth of her body, the wool of her sweater brushed against his bare wrist, a downy, fuzzy sensation. Her hair was very straight and glossy, he noticed, oddly.

  She was so close that when she looked at him she looked up through her long, dark lashes. “So, do you know what you’re hoping for?” she asked him.

  “Well, there’s two Manager posts,” he stammered. “Farm Manager, that is. I’m after one of those, I guess.”

  “Oh,” said Mélie. “That sounds nice.”

  “What about you?” he asked.

  “Career? I’m not sure. I’d like to be an Educator, I guess.”

  Unt felt he should probably say something but couldn’t think what. The four of them had worked together closely for months but there was an awkwardness between them that seemed to kill conversation. Bull had his eyes on the food ahead of them and Olissa was standing sullenly. Unt willed the queue to shuffle them out of the silence.

  Mélie leaned in. “You’ve got something on your chin,” she whispered.

  Unt raised his hand to his face like it was news to him. “Oh, er, thanks,” he mumbled, trying to wipe the drink away as casually as he could.

  “You know, I wouldn’t mind a bit,” said Mélie quietly.