by P. S. Lurie
“Ruskin,” I say, trying to be calm but sounding harried.
“Take him to the prison. I will not have today’s announcement ruined by an ungrateful individual.”
Yells of “Kill him” and “Throw him off the Fence” come from above but President Callister ignores them. “The prison,” she repeats.
I don’t understand Ruskin’s reaction but it’s almost as if he is pleased by this decision as his lips start to curve upwards, taking form at her words, despite still being woozy and not quite able to muster a full smile. It doesn’t make sense for him to be happy with this outcome. Maybe unlike the rest of us, his spirit is still strong and all he has left is the conviction of his defiance. Maybe he is pleased that he didn’t concede like the rest of us and we should bear his disappointment. If only we all pushed back together.
Policemen sweep us aside and drag Ruskin away before I can say any more to him. About Henry. Or Jason. And in that moment, with Mr and Mrs Peters dead and Ruskin doomed to be imprisoned once more, I have failed one of my obligations because there is no one in the family left to tell what happened that night to Jason.
Selene
I watch as the couple are sent overboard to their deaths. It’s the same as always, a moment of sadness for the loss of lives because I am a compassionate person at heart, then I compose myself because I remember that this was the right thing to do for the rest of us. The utilitarian thing to do, as Nathaniel puts it. But this time something strange happens. The memory of the dream I had last night returns to me like a bolt of lightning. Although they will be unable to stay afloat, I imagine the two people on the surface of the sea, and then it is as if I can feel what it is like to be floating myself, to feel the iciness of the water on my skin, to be basking in the moonlight. In this vision, the world turns dark.
It’s an illusion, some trick of the mind, some remnants of my compassion towards these people, but it feels so real.
I remind myself: I’ve never been on the other side of the Fence, or at least not for years and years, and Nathaniel told me I’ve definitely not been near the sea let alone in it.
But now I can picture myself on the water from above, as if I am looking down at my body, carried along by the tranquil tide. Everything goes quiet around me. Calmness washes over me but I know that it won’t last long, as if I already know that the serenity has to be short-lived. It is as if I allow myself this moment of peace because what comes next will devastate me.
The scene changes. I am greeted by the waterlogged couple who have been sent to their deaths and now all around me are the bodies of previous victims who float lifelessly. The picture blurs in my head, causing me to grab Nathaniel’s arm in order to steady myself.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, just a little dizzy.” I should have taken the pill. I messed up. Should I tell him?
“Shall we go?”
“I’m fine. I want to hear the rest of the announcement.”
I feel his grip tighten in between my fingers but my hand is slack because my head is preoccupied with the horror and I’m struggling to come back to my senses.
Then I hear the scream beneath me and scan the crowd. It’s easy to locate the boy as he pushes forward and into view as people make a clearing around him. I watch him wail and wonder who these people were to him that made him demonstrate disloyalty in such a petulant way. No one has ever spoken out during previous announcements.
Then he is clipped around the head and I think it’s dealt with. It’s enough to take me away from the sensation of floating and I am ready to turn my attention back to President Callister but two women run over to his aid. From this distance I have no reason to distinguish them from anyone else but my eyes scan to the television screens as it cuts to a close up; someone has taken the executive decision to not ignore this altercation, but only for a moment before it cuts away back to a composed President Callister.
It is only a snapshot but more than long enough for me to see what I needed to, even if the people who help the boy mean nothing to anyone else around me. As if the woman who came to my apartment this morning pre-empted it, one of the Middlelander’s resemblance to me is eerily similar. The tall, blonde lady on one side of the boy looks like an older version of me.
And in that one fleeting moment everything changes.
Theia
Jason asked me to find his family if anything went wrong. I had assumed the worst, that they were all dead, but now I learn that they were alive for all this time. They must have been in captivity with the Upperlanders biding the time for Ruskin to observe his parents’ deaths. I don’t believe President Callister’s explanation about their failed rehabilitation because the Upperlanders have no reason to spare resources on saving three extraneous people. This has been a sick re-enactment of the cull one year ago and the Peters family have been unfairly kept alive just to play the game that we had to endure last year. That the Upperlanders set it up for Ruskin to arrive just as his parents were killed is the cruellest part of all.
I kept Leda safe and hope I’ve done the right thing by handing her over to Doctor Jefferson. I’ve not been able to locate Ronan, and now I’ve lost Ruskin. Sometimes I wonder if it would have been easier to be one of the many who didn’t make it to the Upperlands but that’s not fair because I remember what I told myself on the night we were Rehoused: I was one of the lucky few to live on and I will never give up for that reason alone. Everything I do is in my community’s honour and I have to keep going. I need to protect what’s left of my family. I need to play the Upperlanders’ games of loyalty and gratitude longer.
The cameras have turned away from us and I look upwards towards President Callister who continues to be unfazed by the interruption. “I apologise for that altercation. Fortunately for that young man we don’t have time for his execution so he will be sent to prison, where he will be expected to learn how to be grateful for all we have provided to him.
“It is not just because we are decent people that we will not kill him today but we don’t have time to bring him up here because, as I said before being interrupted, there is good news.”
A pause as she spreads her hands out. “Today we will be relocating everyone onto the Utopia.” A smile beams across her face and an electronic fanfare plays, which is then drowned out by a huge roar above us, louder than any previous applause, piercing my eardrums and sending my mind into a tailspin.
Kate and her counterparts may be celebrating but that’s not good news for us down here because where does that leave those of us who haven’t been promoted? Are we about to be flooded out after enduring unnecessary hardships?
It’s even worse for me because there is too much that remains unresolved and, even if I am allowed onboard, I am not in the slightest ready to be packed off onto a ship without first finding my brother and working out a way to smuggle my sister.
“Thank you, thank you,” she says to calm the masses on the next tiers up. “It gives me great pleasure to announce that in the next few hours we will be asking everyone to pack their belongings and make their way in orderly fashion to their new homes. The Middlelanders who have not yet been promoted...”
There’s a stunned silence from us and gasps of anticipation above us. It has long been assumed we would be left behind with some explanation that we hadn’t shown enough loyalty to share the limited resources on the Utopia. At this point I’ve wondered what a rebellion would look like and if we had the strength to rise up, not that we did it the first time around.
President Callister looks downwards. “This is a message to you. We are not savages. Everyone will be coming with. We have comfortable barracks for those not yet promoted and the same rules will continue on sea as on land. Gratitude and loyalty are of chief importance to keep the pride of the Upperlands alive as we deem our civilisation: Utopia.”
The constant overtures of applause are sickening but this is really happening. And my stomach turns at the thought that we’ll be in close quarters with
even less space to hide. I don’t have much time before I need to collect Leda and hope Doctor Jefferson can give me enough medicine to nurse her back to health. I will go straight to the hospital from here instead of to Kate’s apartment. She will expect me to help her pack but that isn’t my priority.
Further than that, no semblance of a plan comes together in my head. There’s the problem of smuggling Leda once more. She’s not a baby and her lungs are clogged so the suitcase method is a no go. And how am I going to find Ruskin in a matter of hours when I have learnt nothing this past year?
I don’t have to spend any more time thinking about my next moves because President Callister has two final announcements to make.
“We wish we could take every single person but the Utopia will need space for the population to fluctuate and we are already struggling for space by taking every Middlelander despite their lack of promotion.”
A few boos from the Upperlanders but President Callister waves a hand to shush them.
“Therefore, those in prison will not automatically be included and a solution will be explained to them in due course. As you can see we don’t have much time before the sea overcomes the Fence despite our attempts to fortify it. It is for that reason that we cannot safely clear a way to allow the water in smoothly. Therefore, shortly after five o’clock this evening, when we have all settled into our new homes, we will rig bombs along the Fence and detonate them, allowing the sea to flood through and raise the Utopia. We cannot wait any longer because, as you can see, the water could overpower the Fence at any point. Therefore, you will need to be aboard by three at the latest as we will batten down the hatches at this point. There are entrances running the line of the hull. I repeat, these will be sealed at three o’clock. Be prompt.”
I think of Ruskin who has been taken back to prison. I don’t know what I can do to help him before then.
“Now, before we finish, it’s my favourite part of the announcements. Although those who survived the Great Cull will be coming with, the same rules continue to apply and this will be the final chance for any Middlelanders to board the Utopia anew. Do any Upperlanders wish to nominate anyone to be promoted for the last time before we move to the Utopia?”
At first I think this is a bit pointless if we’re all being moved onto the Utopia and surely everyone is itching to pack but, with everything she says, there must be a purpose. President Callister knows that the promise of the promotions once a month keeps our hopes alive, and keeps us in line as their lackeys. It’s what I assumed; the Upperlanders have become reliant on our services so of course we’ll be going with.
A few calls come out of the silence from the Upperlanders above us. I dread that Kate will shout my name; being sidetracked before I can pick up Leda is the last thing I need. In the lower part of the arena we all turn around to look at the Upperlanders with everyone but me hoping it is their turn. But then a shout comes from close by, at ground level, which has never happened before during this part of the proceedings. Self-promotion is disallowed.
My stomach sinks as I immediately recognise the deep voice. This is definitely not part of my plan. I just have time to turn around and lock eyes with the man as he finishes his statement.
“I wish to nominate myself,” Doctor Adam Jefferson shouts, holding Leda in full view.
Selene
My mother is dead. I have no family but Nathaniel. I was born in the Upperlands. I have never been in the sea. I am in love with my fiancée. We will marry on the Utopia. President Callister will dance at our wedding. Isn’t this my truth?
No.
It’s all lies.
My hand falls away from Nathaniel as I stare down towards my mother who is anything but dead and all at once everything comes back to me, as if a freezing tide has smacked into me and shocked my system into waking and remembering everything.
I was in the Middlelands a year ago and last saw my mother through our front window. I was in a uniform, patrolling. No, that’s not right. I was in a uniform but I wasn’t a part of this. My mother and I both survived the Great Cull.
Oh god. The cull was not great. It’s as if my realisation has shaken true empathy and morals back into my body. How could I have believed any of this was good? How could I have been so cruel? I cheered as people were pushed to their deaths.
The boy protesting is Ruskin Peters, Henry’s friend.
Henry died. I know this because I saw his killer leave his house. And the other person next to Ruskin is that girl. Theia. Perfect Theia Silverdale. Wait, she helped me. She gave me the uniform that allowed me to leave Henry’s house. She’s a good person. But Henry died so that Ronan could be Rehoused. I saw Theia and Ronan arrive by van following the cull. What happened next?
I don’t remember anything more. Who is the man next to me and why do I think we have shared many years together? There are photographs of us in the apartment. They can’t be real.
It all slowly comes back to me. Nathaniel tormented me that night and now I am engaged to him. He and I had sex this morning. I feel my body quiver. How did I believe I loved him? This remains the most confused part in my mind.
I watch as Ruskin is dragged away. Of course, the couple who were executed were his parents.
I want to break free and run downstairs to join my mother. Even though our relationship was strained I no longer care, but I can’t go because the repercussions would be grave for all of us. It’s not like any of the people around me would take my side over Nathaniel’s. Besides, it was forbidden that both my mother and I could survive. Just like with Ruskin’s family it’s not too late for the Upperlanders to take care of that.
Am I in danger if I stay quiet? Nathaniel has done something to me to keep me captive and I need to work out what to do next. My head pounds with an overabundance of questions, which is now beset by terror.
Then I remember what else happened that night last year. I killed two men.
My thoughts stab away at me and leave me with nothing but a frightful haze so that I barely hear President Callister explain that we are all going to be moved to the Utopia. The world goes quiet around me, my ears ring, and I don’t know what to do except remain calm and pretend nothing has changed, but I can feel myself tremor. I have to force myself to clap in time with everyone else but it sickens me to do so.
I look at Nathaniel and the final part of the night one year ago comes to the forefront of my mind. He reappeared throughout to torment me, until he finally dragged me away to be his prisoner although he was supposed to take me to the jail. I hated him then. I wanted him dead.
I think of what he has done to me this year. Using those pills to mess up my head. Violating my mind and my body.
One year ago I killed two men, which unleashed violence that I had bottled up from years of cruelty from my mother.
As much as I have tried to pretend otherwise, I could kill again and, although so much is confused in my mind, one thing is clear: my desire to want Nathaniel dead resurfaces and is more powerful than ever.
Ruskin
Blind rage took over as I watched my parents die and I couldn’t hold my hatred back. I hadn’t considered what I was going to do until I came round from the blunt force to my head that knocked me to the ground. At first, I was incredulous that my parents had been killed in front of me, drowned with no chance of being saved. The Upperlanders held true to their word that only one of us would survive and, although I hated being witness to it, I am relieved that neither one of my parents had to be standing here and watching on instead of me.
I could have turned around, without causing a scene, and left this place from the same way I came but I would be directionless and I’m not sure I could face the scale of this city again. Then the anger overcame me and I couldn’t allow lies to be told about my mother and father. I didn’t see the guard approach before he slammed something into my head and I am still in a daze but one thing is clear as I am dragged away and just catch the woman’s words that I am being taken to priso
n: I have done the right thing.
My plan worked.
Theia Silverdale tried to help me. I didn’t know her well but she looked ill, gaunter than in the Middlelands. She may have survived the flood but she has nothing to smile about. Why would she when she had to watch all her family die, or was she integral to their ends? Didn’t she have a brother? Maybe a sister too? That’s right, there was a baby girl.
Where was Henry? I didn’t have time to ask her before I had to carry out my plan. It was a risk to continue arguing; for all I knew I could have been thrown over the Fence as well and given to the sea but a little fortune pointed in my direction and now I am being taken away from the masses of people.
The sound diminishes as I am escorted through the still desolate city. Everyone must be at this speech. The scale of this place is overwhelming; in each direction there are endless buildings and boulevards that stretch out of sight, and there is no way I could have found Jack on my own without being navigated back to the prison. I am not definitely headed towards our cell but it is my best hope. After finding out about Jason and watching my parents die, Jack is all I have left, so what I had to do was obvious.
I don’t have much of a plan for if I’m locked in a different room to him. Maybe I should have kept quiet and searched for him in my own time instead of aiming for incarceration but I have been left with nothing and at least if I am stripped of all hope I can say that I fought against the Upperlanders. From what I saw of Theia and the other Middlelanders, who watched on carelessly as my parents were murdered, it is more than could be said of them.
I don’t understand what has happened to them this past year but it is as if they have become loyal to the Upperlanders. Maybe not loyal but at least not defiant. Reminded by the continuous use of another word today, I shudder at the idea that they have forgotten what came before and might even be grateful.