The Fall of Chance

by McGowan, Terry

  Bull had got his post among the Carers because of Unt. The man who Bull had taken the place of now had Unt’s post. Unt reflected bitterly that it was true what the elders taught: whenever man interfered with the natural order he only made things worse.

  “Never mind, mate, there are still farming posts among the Labourers,” Bull whispered. For once, he was nothing but sympathy but all Unt wanted to do was hit him. Didn’t he understand that the two things were completely different?

  Unt knew Bull had a point but it was two draws on before he could even begin to consider a possible consolation prize. By the time he had stopped reeling and started to wonder if he could stand to work under those inferior victors, one of the Farm Labourer posts had gone.

  That made one hundred candidates. Seventeen posts remained, only one of which involved farming. Maybe he’d end up a tanner, stinking of the crap and chemicals they padded about in all day.

  At a hundred and eight, the last glimmer went out. A diminutive red-headed boy named Tryp took the last Farm Labourer job. Unt hated the way his big hair framed a buck-toothed face that flicked around like an over-excited squirrel.

  He felt numb. His ears seemed blocked with wadding and it took a nudge from Bull to make him realise he’d been called. Just in the nick of time, he thought bitterly.

  Unt rolled like an automaton, wrist spilling with almost no conscious effort on his part. The dice came to rest before him: a red six and a white one.

  “Seven,” he said, voice utterly void of caring. At any point, seven would have done it. With his minus three Aptitude Modifiers, that would have made four and his Talent Modifier of two would have put him within range of his goal. If that had happened, Kelly would now be saying he was placed among the Managers.

  Instead, Kelly was reading out another score and was already through his well-practiced lines. “Your Aptitude-Modified score of four places you within the Order of Medics, however, as there are no vacant posts within that Order you are placed within the next vacant Order in the direction of your Aptitude. This being the Order of Councillors, you are hereby placed in that Order.”

  4. Fallout

  It wasn’t so much a gasp but a rolling swell that surged across the chambers like a wave. It was that heavy energy that doused Unt like water and pulled him back to reality. Kelly’s words floated disjointed round his head but wouldn’t come together right. He was a Councillor? It couldn’t be true but there was his name being hooked up on the board.

  Kelly was still talking and was irritated by the disturbance. “There being only one post available in the Order of Councillors, we shall forgo the second part of the draw. Mr Unt, you are hereby assigned to the post of Councillor.”

  But Kelly’s words were just empty noise. No one was listening, not even Unt. They’d already done the simple maths and worked it out. It was impossible: the post was supposed to be Rob’s. But Unt had been so caught up in his own problems that he hadn’t noticed Rob’s name fail to surface and he hadn’t even registered that the post was still there.

  Unt saw Rob sat at the extreme left of the front aisle. Like everyone else, he had turned around to look at Unt and their eyes came together right then. As ever, the Councillor’s son was unreadable. Unt felt like the unwitting victor of a fight he didn’t know he was caught up in. Not knowing what else to do, he nodded in Rob’s direction.

  Whatever Rob’s reaction, Unt didn’t see it. He was literally shaken out of the moment by Bull who grabbed his shoulders in two meaty hands and jostled him violently. Unt felt like an animal being wrung to death by a hunting dog. His eyes wheeled all over.

  As Bull relented, those eyes came to rest on another person whose expression was anything but unreadable. It was Councillor Lasper and his look was so hateful Unt knew he’d just made an instant committed enemy. “If looks could kill” had never felt so true.

  The image his eyes were feeding him was in absolute contrast to the roar in his ears. “Well done, mate!” Bull was shouting at him. “You sly old fox.”

  Finally losing patience, Kelly hollered for silence. “May I remind everyone that eight posts remain and eight more people are waiting to find out who will fill them.”

  The reprimand was enough to cow the noise but it couldn’t do more than create a false veneer of attention. Suddenly, no-one cared. Unt certainly didn’t care. He’d stumbled into triumph from the maw of despair. He didn’t even hear the next draw.

  The very next number after that, however, did get his attention. Rob’s number had finally come up. Kelly spoke his usual words and Rob rolled. When he spoke to announce his score, his voice was devoid of emotion.

  He’d rolled a seven: the same as Unt. If he’d been drawn two turns before he’d be where Unt was now: in his rightful place. As it was, Kelly now announced his alternate destiny. Rob was condemned to the Functionaries.

  Unt could feel Lasper’s eyes boring into him. He suspected that they hadn’t left him for a second, not even to look at his son. The Councillor’s fingers clawed viciously at the edges of his papers. His whole body looked like it was ready to act independent of his mind. There was an animal rage there, caged back by the shell of his robes of office. Councillor Hodd was sat beside him. He looked worried that his colleague might leap up and seemed poised to restrain him.

  But Lasper didn’t make the threatened move and the draw carried on, rolling out to its conclusion with no further drama. After the last post had been doled out, Kelly wasted little time in launching into his next speech.

  “Partners in Fate,” he started, “the first part of the Fall is concluded. We shall shortly begin the second draw; the arrangement of spouses.

  “This part of the Fall is equally important as the first. Our collective home is built on community spirit and it is in the home where community begins. A good home comes from a good partnership: may this draw bring you all good partnerships.”

  Unt looked back to the Order of Ceremonies which included the procedure for what was to come. The gender with the fewest participants got to draw their partners and this year, that meant the girls.

  When it was their turn, each girl would roll their dice and deduct seven from the score. The result would be added to or deducted from their own Order number and that would be the Order they drew their partner from. If the number that came up was higher or lower than the Order numbers available, they would draw from the next available Order instead.

  The system was designed to put people from nearby Orders together. It was assumed that they’d be better-suited to each other and it was because of this bias that everyone had expected that Rob would get Crystal.

  A score of seven would get a Medic like Crystal a partner who was also a Medic but anything less left only one Order possible: the Councillors. There was a five-in twelve chance for girls from the Medics that they would draw a Councillor and now, that meant Unt.

  He still couldn’t believe it but already, he could see one possible obstacle to that outcome. The order in which the girls would roll had to be determined first and as the previous draw had just shown, who went first could change everything.

  As Kelly was speaking, an orderly was filling the black glass sphere with a new set of balls. When it was filled, Kelly would start drawing those balls and the numbers he read out were the numbers of the Orders. A girl from whichever Order he drew out would determine her husband first.

  There were a different number of balls for each Order. There was one for the Functionaries; two for the Clerks and the Makers; the Managers and the Labourers had three balls and the Educators and Protectors had four. The Medics and Hauliers both had five balls and the Artisans had the most with six. Had a girl got Unt’s post, there would have been six for the Councillors as well.

  This inequality encouraged the girls at the extreme ends of the aptitude scale to be drawn first. It was intended to stop all the suitable partners from nearby Orders being taken by girls in the middle Orders. If that happened, the reduced field would mean the girls
had to select from partners increasingly less-suited to themselves.

  Twenty-two smaller containers were also being brought out. They too were made of glass and half were green and half were red. The red ones were set before Morley and the Green ones were put before Croker.

  The red ones contained all the girls’ numbers and they were split up according to their Order. The green ones held the boys’ numbers and they were split by Order too.

  When Kelly drew an Order, Morley would draw a number and the girl with that number would have to stand up and make her roll. Having determined the Order she was to draw from, that girl would then come out to the pots before Croker, draw a number and then find out who her husband was to be.

  Unt looked at one pot at the far end of Croker’s row. There was only one ball in it: that was him. The first girl to draw from that pot would be his wife.

  He then looked at the other, fuller pots. Among the boys’ numbers were those belonging to eight men from the last Fall. For those men, this year was their last chance. If they didn’t get a partner this time, they’d be bachelors for ever. They were put in with their current Order but none of them were Councillors.

  The setting up of the second part of the draw provided a natural recess in proceedings. Kelly might not have declared a break but he might as well have. It wasn’t long before the chamber echoed with a hundred conversations.

  Among the first voices was Bull’s. He sprawled a gorilla arm over Unt and said, “How about that then, mate? You a Councillor and me a Medic: not bad, hey?”

  “Yeah,” Unt nodded. He looked beyond the orderlies at their work. Lasper’s eyes hadn’t left him.

  “’Yeah’? Is that all you can say? You land flat on your feet, take the best job going and now you stand in line to get the pick of the honey.”

  Unt looked at his friend and in that beaming, open face, he forgot Lasper for a moment. He couldn’t help but blush out an embarrassed smile. Unt agreed with Bull, his luck deserved more than a ‘yeah’ but no more words came to mind.

  Bull was happy enough with the smile. “Aye, that’s more like it. Even you can’t be a miserable git at a time like this.”

  “I’m just in shock,” was Unt’s honest explanation.

  “Shock? I should think so. Think how those poor ladies feel. They thought they’d be getting a prime husband and now they risk getting lumbered with you.”

  “You mean Crystal?” Unt raised an eyebrow. His comfortable cynicism with Bull was returning.

  “Well, er, not particularly,” Bull was strangely thrown for a second. Then his grin returned, “But, now you come to mention it, you are in the running aren’t you? I mean, we both are. If her number comes up early and she ends up playing the percentages, then there aren’t many options. It’s gonna be me versus you, eh?”

  “Maybe,” Unt admitted, “Like you say, it depends who comes up first. What if Delanda gets to roll early and picks you?” Delanda was a monstrous girl, easily as big as Bulton and had been assigned to the Labourers.

  “You could get Delanda too,” Bull spat back.

  “Not likely from seven Orders distant,” said Unt, “but six Orders? Once the Educators are gone there’s an outside chance for you, mate.”

  Bull went pale at the thought. “Fate’s sake, you’re right.”

  “Don’t worry,” Unt jumped on his friend’s discomfort, “at least you’ll be nice and safe wrapped up in her big arms. Just make sure you do whatever she says.”

  “Why do you have to spoil a nice conversation?” sulked Bull. “Still,” he piped up after a moment’s reflection, “if Crystal does come up early there’s a good chance it’ll be me or you that gets her.”

  “Isn’t there another guy in your Order?” asked Unt.

  “Three,” Bull waved a dismissive hand, “but they don’t stand a chance.”

  Unt buried his head in mock despair. You had to love Bull’s optimistic discard of pure maths. “They have an equal chance. I swear you don’t get this.”

  Bull leaned back with his arms behind his head. “Luck is what you make of it, Councillor”.

  Unt’s mood darkened instantly. “Be quiet!” he hissed. Bull’s words had struck on something he was trying not to think about. They had made their own luck that day on the bridge and their lie hadn’t just favoured Bull: it had contributed to his becoming a Councillor. An icy black tendril coiled around his heart.

  If anyone found out, they’d be in serious trouble.

  Bull leaned forward so he was level with Unt. “Relax, mate,” he said in a low voice. I wasn’t talking about that.”

  “No? Well what do you think it sounds like to anyone listening?” Unt’s fear made him angry. He looked at Lasper as though the man could possibly have heard but Councillor Hodd was holding him in reluctant conversation.

  “They’d think it was just another blasphemous but throw-away comment from dumb old Bull,” Bulton was unusually serious and a little angry himself. He dropped his voice even lower. “Look, he said. Only us four know what happened at the river and why would any of us tell? Olissa’s a bitch but she’s not that stupid and they both owe you their lives.”

  Unt regretted his temper. “Ok,” he said. “Sorry. I’m just worried, you know.”

  With just those words, Bull was instantly back to himself. He sprawled back and replaced his arm over Unt’s shoulder. “Worry not, my friend. You’re about to find out the true source of misery in your life.”

  He nodded toward the front where Councillor Kelly was back on his feet, ready to resume the draw. Their jobs done, the last of the orderlies were leaving the grand chamber and Kelly wasted no time in carrying on where he left off.

  “The preparations are complete and so I hereby draw the first Order,” said Kelly and plunged his hand into the bowl before him. He made an elaborate show of blindly mixing the balls before finally fixing on one. Drawing it aloft like a precious relic, he held it out and announced “Seven: the Functionaries!”

  There was a pause as he looked over his papers. Bull nudged Unt’s foot with his own. “Not Delanda,” he muttered through unmoving lips.

  “There are twelve female participants from this Order,” Kelly read from his notes, “Mr Morley, will you please draw the first name?”

  Morley’s began to rummage in pot seven. He took as long as Kelly but that was because he was struggling to grasp a ball. Finally, he got one. “Forty-three,” he announced.

  He started going down his list with a hooked finger, looking for the name, but the rest of the chamber had already got it from the big board behind him. “Tressa,” he called when he’d finally caught up.

  Unt wasn’t concerned about this one. Her Order Number was Seven and his was Two so they were five Orders distant. Only a double-one would give the minus-five score needed to make them match.

  A one-in-thirty-six chance was negligible. It would only be once they ran out of boys in the Orders inbetween that any of the girls in the higher Orders would have a chance of picking him.

  The girl Tressa stood up as her name was announced. Unt knew her as a meek thing to start with and her short hair and small frame only made her look more childlike. If Stryker had looked frightened when he was called up first, then Tressa looked absolutely terrified.

  “Miss Tressa, please cast your dice,” Kelly commanded.

  Her small hand dropped two delicate dice. They were tiny things, coloured pink and white. They were so small and faint, Unt couldn’t make out the score. “Nine,” she announced in a tremulous voice.

  “A score of two above your Order,” said Kelly, “Which means you will draw a partner from the Labourers. Please approach Mr Croker’s bench and draw a number from pot nine.”

  As Unt watched her slip awkwardly down the far side of the chamber, he was glad it was the girls and not the boys who had this bit to do. Every set of eyes in the place was watching her slight frame, judging her. The girls might be guaranteed to get a partner but they had to parade themselves first.r />
  Tressa paused in front of the bench, staring at the pot as though it contained venomous creatures. “Go ahead, dear,” said Kelly, not unkindly.

  She plucked a ball, read its number without speaking and looked at the board.

  “Well?” asked Kelly.

  “Eighty-seven,” Tressa spoke into the ground but in the echoing chamber, her small voice carried clear enough.

  So did the whisper of “Aw, hell!” from three seats down. Kelly frowned deeply but chose not to acknowledge the outburst. Instead, he simply stated, “You have drawn Mr Copper. You may now return to your seat.”

  As Tressa shuffled her way back, the general murmur returned. Bull took the opportunity to whisper behind his hand, “Poor Copper: scared of boys, that one.”

  As well she might be, thought Unt. Copper was enormous. He was bigger than Bulton and had been assigned to the Labourers for a reason. He could carry a stone block the size of Tressa with his bare hands. It was like she’d been thrown into the arms of a great bear.

  Time might tell but it was the kind of pairing that made Unt doubt the wisdom of the system. Regardless, he felt for Tressa right now. She couldn't help but have heard Copper’s reaction. It was a cruel and humiliating beginning to a lifelong sentence.

  Not soon enough, the next draw was up and Tressa’s plight was forgotten. Kelly stood up to make his second draw. Again, there was the same over-worked rummaging and then he plucked a ball.

  “Twelve: the Artsians!” he proclaimed.

  A sinewy girl called Colé rose from her seat with the grace of a snake. She was confident - eager, even - and Unt was suddenly disappointed this was one girl he definitely wouldn’t get. Colé was a dancer and the Artisans fit her like a glove.

  “Miss Colé, I appreciate your enthusiasm but you are not the only lady in your Order. Please adhere to procedure and wait to be called,” said Kelly. Colé’s response was a curtsey and if it was possible to put both scorn and deference into such a move, Colé achieved it.