The Emperor's Concubine

by Killarney Sheffield

  My mother smiles when I set my sketchbook on the pristine white counter. “Hi, darling; I’m so glad you are finally home for good.”

  After crossing the room I give her a quick hug, noticing the lines of worry framing her eyes which hadn’t been there before. “Is something wrong?”

  She smiles and runs a shaky hand down her white apron to smooth it. “No, no, why do you ask?”

  “No reason.” Though she turns away, I can’t help observing the grim set of her lips. “Where’s pa?”

  “He’s in the gathering room.”

  Dumping my satchel on the floor I head for the gathering room, pausing to run a hand over the photo of my mother and I reclining in a field of yellow daisies when I was five. The green of the meadow and bright yellow flowers compliment my cheery red sundress and lend a little vibrancy to the bland white of everything in the dorm. All the dorms are the same in Imram, colourless, disinfected, nondescript buildings. Not homes, merely places you exist, a building in which to bide your time between work or school shifts. With a soft sigh, I enter the gathering room and place a kiss on my father’s forehead. “Hello, Pa.”

  He looks up from the tablet where he is reading the weekly news and smiles. “How was school?”

  “Oh, the same old, same old.” I sit cross-legged at his feet and lean back against the chair. “Every morning we are reminded how we destroyed the earth with our carelessness, and how great Emperor Forbais is for saving mankind.”

  Pa chuckles. “Yes, I suppose. How are your grades?”

  I pick up my little brother’s drawing he scribbled with a bit of coloured wax from the foot stool. “Still in the ninety-eighth percentile.”

  “Good. You will be assigned an elite task upon graduation.”

  “Probably just some boring computer job.” Petie enters with an arm full of odd bits of paper. Ruffling his curly brown locks I take them from him and browse the crude figures and items he’s drawn, each in bright garish color.

  “You should be proud. Everyone will look up to you,” Pa admonishes.

  “Everyone?” Meaning who, I wanted to ask. Nobody cares what task anyone else is assigned. It is all the same, we are all the same. Our treatment doesn’t change and there are no perks for being given a better job than anyone else since we don’t get paid. Yes, I have a real argumentative streak which I’ve learned to bury deep inside. The twinkle in pa’s eye proves he knows it. There is no point in arguing the point with him, though. He’s proud of me and though it’s fruitless I’m glad he is.

  The meal siren echoes across the broadcast system. Together we file into the dining area. Four covered trays slide down the chute and onto the table. As my habit, I take the one labelled ‘teen girl’ and sit in one of the high backed metal chairs positioned along the counter. Upon lifting the lid I discover plain pasta, a tofu chicken breast, a slice of course bread and a bright dollop of steamed vegetables. As usual. the only spot of colour on the tray are the limp vegetables. When I open the carton of soya milk and take a sip. I spy the tiny red wrapped parcel almost hidden under my napkin. After swallowing I return the carton to the tray. “I see the powers that be remembered my birthday.” It’s not really a present, just another reminder to people we can’t go where we please, or do as we like without the emperor’s permission.

  Without much enthusiasm I pick up the traditional present marking a sixth, twelfth, and eighteenth birthday and open it. “Oh, yay.” When ma’s lips thin I resist the urge to roll my eyes and affix the bright green tab to my bracelet. She hates it when I roll my eyes. In my defense, verbally protesting is a crime, so what’s a girl to do? “Another tag for my bracelet, I wonder what this will give me access to now, gold, riches, a life?” On my sixth birthday I received a blue one which granted me access to the school. On my twelfth birthday I was given a yellow one which granted me access to the education centre. This green tab I suppose will tell me of my future career. I’m a bit perturbed. I honestly hoped there would be some sort of fanfare. Right, wishful thinking. Suck it up, Princess. With a cheeky grin I hold my arm aloft. “Tada! Don’t I look marvellous?”

  Ma smothers a sob and looks down at her tray. A glance at my pa’s stiff upper lip confirms he, too, is struck by the future unknown to us all. He looks away and picks at his tofu. All right, so my attempt to make light of the situation is a bust. The only one oblivious to the tension in the room is Petie, who grins and holds up his own bracelet with the shiny new blue tab he received only weeks before. “I got to go to school; maybe you will get to go to one like me.”

  I ruffle his hair. “I’ve already been to that one, Petie.”

  He shrugs and digs into his dinner marked ‘male child under 12’. “My school’s better.”

  “Sure.” The primary educators who walked around with rulers to smack your hands for any indiscretion, from talking out of turn, or having to go to the bathroom in between permitted breaks were a real hoot. In fairness, I suppose all educators are the same. An unwelcome recollection of one of my classmates who challenged something read in their history book on the destruction of the planet just a few weeks ago swims to mind. No one disputes the educational books. The girl had been convinced her father told the truth when he said he had gotten a glimpse of a green oasis outside of Imram’s high walls once. The girl was beaten for her slip of tongue and sentenced to two weeks in solitary with no home visitation.

  The rest of the lukewarm, bland meal is eaten in silence. Once done I help my mother rinse the trays in our allotted portion of water and send them back up the chute to be sterilized before the next meal service. When the task is finished the family gathers in the other room to await the broadcast.

  With a soft smile ma slips a small box from the pocket of her apron and passes it to me. “For your birthday.”

  Upon opening the box I discover a silver flower with a yellow jewelled centre strung on a thin chain nestled inside. “Oh Ma, where did you get it?”

  “I traded my beauty supply allotment for the month to Mrs. Peters.”

  “You shouldn’t have, ma! A whole month?” I hug her to me. My ma is the best. The beauty bundle isn’t much, a tiny tube of hand cream, a razor that gets dull after only a couple uses and a square of scented oil paper to dab behind your ears, but it is the only luxury a woman gets all to herself here.

  “That is alright, Ocean, I will survive.”

  I try not to cry, but a tear trickles down my cheek at the thought of such a sacrifice and of all the other birthday ransoms of the past that ensured such a special occasion would not go unmarked. “This is the best day ever. No more school, a new routine and a pl-” I bite my lip to keep my secret. It will upset Ma and Pa if they know I’ve broken the law and saved the fragile plant. Besides, having a secret all to myself and Sol, is a bit of excitement that is rare here. A knock on the door has everyone scrambling to their feet.

  “Quick,” Ma hisses, “Turn the picture around!”

  Leaping into action, heart pounding I turn the picture of Ma and I around to display the regal image of the emperor, and then hurry to answer the door. Any reference to the world before the destruction is forbidden. After peeking through the peephole to determine our visitor is only Danika and Sol, I open the door.

  My friends step inside and each give me a hug. “Happy Birthday!”

  Sol taps my shoulder and holds out his hand. When I position mine below his something dry, green and sweet smelling drops onto my palm. I puzzle it for a moment before recognition dawns on me when the scent reaches my nostrils. “Mint? Is it really a mint leaf?”

  He nods. “Mr. Horner gave it to me. It is the last one from his secret stash before he was retired from the supply warehouses. I want you to have it.” He fastens the necklace around my neck and pops the back off the flower, to reveal a little hiding spot just big enough to conceal and protect the fragile dried leaf. “As a remembrance of before the event and in hopes that we might someday return to the land.”

  “Thanks.” With care
I press the herb inside and then lead the way to the gathering room.

  The screen attached to the wall glows and then flickers to life with a loud buzz.

  “You’re just in time for the broadcast.” Sitting at my father’s feet I pull Danika down beside me and ma perches on the arm of the chair, holding Petie’s hand. Sol takes up a solitary standing position beside my brother.

  Tense silence replaces our earlier good humour. An icy tentacle of dread glides up my back bone. Something terrible is about to happen. Something I will have no power to stop. I try to brush the thought from my mind. No, this is my day to be happy, nothing can ruin that, I won’t let it.

  The emperor’s image appears on the screen. The artificial lights gleam off his bald pate before someone adjusts them. His usual black suit gives the impression he is solid and un-bending as he stands at a marble podium flanked by red and gold curtains. The colors are almost mesmerizing when one is used to dull grey, white, dusty green and navy blue. After clearing his throat he looks directly into the camera. Those black, emotionless orbs offer nothing but emptiness. It’s almost eerie. The man of stone we call him behind his back. Does he have any feelings? It never seems so. Maybe he’s not even real... wouldn’t that be a scandal? What if all these years we have been following the guidance of nothing, but a hologram?

  My musing is interrupted by the Emperor’s stiff monotone, “Citizens of Imram, we are facing a crisis of gigantic proportions. As you know, many of our elite succumbed to the effects of the disaster that made us rebuild our civilization. We are now faced with dwindling numbers to repopulate those whose valuable input controls and governs our great city. Within a few short years we will simply cease to be without new blood to infuse into the population. I have therefore issued a degree that when put in place will insure the survival of those most deserving of our people. Every girl who has reached majority age since the beginning of the year, and was never touched with the black sickness, will be relocated to a special facility within the week where they will be used to ensure our continued survival. You will receive further instructions tomorrow and be assigned a travel tag. All boys who have reached their majority will be taken to the trade assignment facility as expected. Anyone who tries to avoid their duty will be executed.” The emperor smiles into the camera as if he has just blessed us with a wonderful gift and then it fades to static.

  Terror renders me silent as I try to digest everything I’ve just heard. I’ve reached my majority as of today. ‘Used to ensure our continued survival’... Used... how? It takes me a moment before I realize I am staring at Sol. The silence stretches between us like a force field until it is broken by a howl of despair issued from my mother’s lips.

  Pa launches from his chair and gathers her close. “Hush, Lea, you’ll frighten her.”

  The next thing I know I’m clutching Danika’s hand. “Was I ever touched with the sickness, Pa?”

  “No.” His thin, strangled answer echoes in the tiny room.

  A choked sob escapes Danika. “Nor have I, I’m sure of it.”

  “What does it mean, Pa?” I know what it means, I am just afraid to put it into words, as if maybe not saying it out loud will render the idea void. My wide eyed gaze flickers across all their strained expressions.

  Sol looks away and then down at his hands. “It means you will be taken away.”

  Chapter Two

  Sol and I sit on the roof top under the artificial stars. I think we are both shell shocked because neither of us says anything for the longest time. Finally Sol sighs. “My mother will be wondering where I am. I’m in no mood to deal with her tonight, though.”

  “Your father won’t care.”

  Even in the dark I can feel his disgust. “He never cares, he’s too drunk to bother. The stench of rot gut oozing from him by this time each night makes my eyes water.”

  I can only imagine what his home life is like. “Alcohol is illegal so where does he keep getting it?”

  “No idea. He doesn’t even care that if he’s caught it will put my mother’s life in jeopardy too. I dare not tell him where I’ve been and start a fight, so it is best to wait until he’s passed out to sneak home.”

  “I don’t like you out on the streets after curfew, who knows what will happen if you are caught by an enforcer.” Every time Sol defies curfew leaves me knotted and sleepless, wondering if he made it home undetected until I see him the next day.

  “It’s better than listening to my father’s drunken slur about how I need to get my head out of the clouds, how you’re not my betrothed, how stupid I am…”

  Poor Sol. Sometimes I think he lets his grades slide just to prove his father right. “You’re not stupid.”

  “I don’t understand why my mother doesn’t report him to the enforcers. Our lives would be better without his abuse. The look in my mother’s eyes tells me she sympathizes with me when he’s on one of his tirades, but she will not let on to my father. He likes to take his temper out on her when he’s drunk and she knows better than to give him more reason to be angry at her. I wish he was dead.” He sighs. “No, that’s not true, I just wish he wasn’t my dad.”

  Reaching out I close my fingers around Sol’s. Sol would never hurt anyone. He’s big but sweet and gentle, not a killer. “Tomorrow you will get your assignment and then you’ll never have to live under his roof again.”

  Sol picks up his guitar. “Like you, I dream of a life outside of Imram. I remember more of the outside than I let on.” He picks a few chords.

  I close my eyes and allow myself to recall my life before these cement walls.

  “I used to love hockey and fishing, now… well, I’m not sure I love those things anymore, it’s been so long since I did them.” He strums a little too hard on the guitar. With a twang the second string breaks and curls back to hit his hand. “Damn!” Sucking the nicked digit he sets the instrument back in the corner and then stretches out beside me.

  “You should be more careful, Sol. Now you’ll have to apply for another string.” Music is allowed in the hubs, but instruments and replacement pieces are in short supply. One must apply for what they need and if one’s lucky the officials might grant your request. Supposedly it is because these things are in short supply, but personally I think it is just the way of the emperor keeping ultimate control over the citizens of Imram.

  “Tomorrow I will find out my assignment in the city. I’m not smart like you, Ocean. My grades are barely passable. I’ll probably just be some boring tofu production worker, or something of that sort. As long as I don’t end up as an enforcer…”

  I can’t help shuddering at the thought. Sol is a big guy for his age, and tough, but he doesn’t have that ruthless quality the officials are surely looking for to be a good enforcer. No one really wants to get that ominous red tag with the black dot in the center, after all, who wants to be assigned the task of injecting someone with the purple poison? “I suppose in the job category it is the worst, except for the women who are going to end up as concubines, that is.”

  Sol squeezes my hand. “You won’t be chosen. You are beautiful, however, there are hundreds of girls who have reached their majority in the city and only thirty-three officials, counting the emperor. What are the odds you will be chosen?”

  My voice chokes with emotion. “Chosen or not, I will still not be allowed to marry you. I’ll have to be content to be your best friend. Will it be enough for both of us?”

  “It will have to be.” His tone is just as grim.

  Rolling over I rest my head on my arm. I’ve seen my betrothed before, just a quick glimpse of him in the square once. I believe his name is Ignis. He’s a bespectacled brainiac, like me. I wish he didn’t exist. No, I don’t wish him dead exactly, just gone. I’ve seen Sol’s betrothed too, at my school. She’s not ugly, though not near as pretty as some. With any luck, she will be picked as a concubine and I not, then perhaps the emperor would entertain the idea of allowing Sol and I to wed. Then again, all sorts of things
could happen. Sol’s betrothed could meet with an unfortunate accident… it happens all the time. I don’t wish her dead exactly, just gone. With a groan I flop back onto my back. None of these are new thoughts by any means. Still, there is nothing I can do about any of it, but accept whatever happens. It’s so unfair.

  Chapter Three

  “I’m going out for a few minutes, Ma.” With the ominous tag delivered with this morning’s meal tray marked #2-2-3 clenched in my fingers, I exit my dorm and climb the ladder to the roof. The thought has crossed my mind I could throw it away and claim I never got it, perhaps find someone to take my place. It wouldn’t work though, for the tags are set to correspond with my bracelet, the one assigned to me for life as evidence of my existence and place in the community. As I swing my legs over the ledge and step onto the roof, I see Sol and Danika are already there waiting for me. They sit cross-legged by the cracked flower pot which holds the small, fragile weed. I don’t know why we’ve decided to share our tags up here, it just seems right to keep this moment between us. Suddenly the plant doesn’t seem as important as before.

  Holding back my grimace I kneel down beside them. It will serve no purpose to let them see how scared I am. I’m sure they are just as frightened. “Ok, so who’s up for trading tags? Unless of course you have a rainbow one. I’m not into chicks.” My lopsided grin and attempt at humor is met with blank stares. “Tough crowd,” I mumble. “Did you get your tags this morning?”

  Danika nods.

  Taking a deep breath I gather my courage and hold out my hand. “On the count of three, okay?”

  After a moment of hesitation Danika holds out her fist and looks to Sol who counts in a slow even tone, “One, two, three.”

  At the same time we all flip our hands, each displaying the tag nestled against our palms. The silver tag gleams in my hand with the black symbol of fertility on it, which I can only assume means I’ve been chosen as a concubine. In contrast a black tag lays nestled in Danika’s without a symbol on it. In Sol’s hand rests a red tag with a black dot, the symbol of an enforcer.