by Jane Redd
“Jez, say something.”
I heard the fear in his voice. The thought of someone like Sol being afraid of anything made me shiver all over. “I don’t know what to say,” I answered at last. “I remember everything. They caught me in my room, standing by the window, holding that book.” I paused as I thought of Rose’s words. “If the shocking had worked, I wouldn’t remember what I read, either, right?”
“Right,” he said.
I felt him waiting for me to continue. “That means . . . that means it didn’t work and—”
“Jez,” he broke in. “Don’t let them know it didn’t work. Don’t let them know you remember what’s in that book.”
“All right,” I said, or at least I think I said it. My words sounded so far away.
“Why didn’t you destroy it in the first place?” His voice sounded calm again.
I hesitated. “It was my caretaker’s last wish that I read it—it’s the record of my ‘grandmother.’” I didn’t tell him that I’d also hoped it would help me expel thoughts I shouldn’t be having. About him.
“Ah,” he said.
My heart drummed with guilt at not reporting the book the moment I realized what it was. But even if I had to go back, even knowing that I’d be caught, I think I might have done the same thing. I might have still read the book.
“And you read it?” His voice again.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“Let me guess.” Sol’s tone was slow, deliberate. “She talks about the Before.”
I thought of everything I’d learned from Rose. “A little bit. But mostly she talked about the rains and how her life was changed when the Legislature formed.”
There was only silence on the other side of the wall, and then the shadow shifted. I waited, holding my breath. I wondered if Sol was angry now, realizing what he got himself Detention for. What I cost him. This should have stayed between me and my caretakers.
“What was her name?” he asked.
His question surprised me, and it also worried me. I didn’t want him punished anymore because of me. I regretted having told him anything in the first place.
“Jez.” His fingers appeared in the opening at the bottom of the wall. “Tell me her name.”
“What does it matter?”
He wriggled his fingers, and instinctively I closed my hand around them. There was no danger in it, I told myself. A thick wall separated us. Besides, who knew if I’d ever see him again? Don’t go there, I thought, or I’ll stop breathing altogether.
“Please,” he said.
“Her name was Rose,” I whispered.
“Like a flower.” His fingers moved against mine, and his grasp tightened. I was glad he couldn’t see me or the color spreading across my cheeks. The description of Rose kissing her boyfriend came to my mind. If Sol could make me feel this way just holding my hand, what would kissing him be like? I squeezed my eyes shut, forcing the thought away.
“She wouldn’t turn in the name of the man whose child she carried,” he was saying. “Even worse, she tried to cut out her Harmony implant. A serious crime of rebellion.”
“How do you know all of that?” I asked.
His next words sent a chill through me. “She was executed December 3, 2061, a few weeks after her child was born. Her last request was to choose her method of death. Remember the case study?”
It sounded familiar now. I let the connection settle—my grandmother was the woman we’d learned about in class. In the case study, nothing more had been said of the child, only that it was relocated a few weeks after birth. The case study had been an impartial recollection of the events. But Rose’s written words rushed through my mind—her worries, her fears, her love for the father of her child. She had been real. Not just a history lesson or a case study. She was my grandmother.
Then I remembered the conclusion of the case study. “Death by fire,” I whispered, horror sweeping over me as I thought about the barbaric methods of execution in the Before, and how some condemned criminals were allowed to choose the way they’d die. In Rose’s case, her name hadn’t been blotted out like the usual criminals. They had kept her name in the history lessons to be held up as an example.
Sol’s fingers tightened around mine. “It was her, wasn’t it?” he said.
I nodded, although he couldn’t see me. I pictured his solemn gaze, his searching eyes, which seemed to understand me even when I didn’t understand myself. I was grateful he couldn’t see the tears that had started.
“Reading about her reminded me of you,” Sol said. “Now I know why.”
My heart thumped. He couldn’t know, couldn’t realize, that my caretaker had said the same thing in her letter. Did Sol know how I struggled to control my emotions? That I wasn’t like the others? He had seen my tears. He must have guessed.
I waited a few heartbeats before asking, “How do I remind you of Rose?” I wanted to hear it from him.
“The case study had a description of her in it,” he said. “Don’t you remember?”
“Not really.” I thought hard, but all I remembered was the sentencing and her listed crimes. I didn’t recall any descriptive details.
“The study said she was uncommonly beautiful, and she was a danger to society because of it.”
I froze. And that description reminded Sol of me? I was glad for the thick wall between us. I wanted to ask him more, but I was afraid the tremor in my voice would give too much away.
“She naturally attracted trouble,” he continued, “caused men to fall in love with her. Made them lose their good sense and led more than one man to his downfall.”
More than one man? The book I’d read only mentioned one boyfriend—perhaps he was the one she’d truly loved. I tried not to compare him to Sol.
Sol’s voice continued rhythmically, like he was reading. With his brilliant mind, he probably was reading, straight from his memory. “Even if she’d turned in the man she loved, she still would have been imprisoned. The population was on a moratorium during that year. Not even married couples were allowed to reproduce.” His tone was gentle. “The Legislature probably only kept her alive long enough to deliver the child. At least they were merciful on that issue. The child lived.”
The child who had been Naomi. That’s why I’d received the book as an inheritance. Naomi must have sensed something like this might happen and wanted to send me a strong warning. I couldn’t let my feelings for Sol be discovered, or I would never succeed where Rose had failed.
Despite all of the education I’d received about how the Legislature was protecting us from our worst selves, it just didn’t make sense that one of my grandmother’s crimes had been her beauty. My consternation was threatening to become anger. I let my breath out slowly, trying to dissipate the unwelcome emotion. Do not show anger, even if you feel it, Naomi had told me more than once, her hands cradling my face as she looked sternly into my eyes. But this anger kept growing, despite my determination, becoming almost too big to hold in.
Sol pulled his hand away, and the shadow on the other side of the wall moved. It was closer now, darker. “Jez, listen to me.”
His voice fell a notch, and I had to strain to hear. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
My breath caught at the irony. “Too late.”
“No, it’s not,” he said, his tone urgent. “You’ve done nothing but accept your inheritance. Don’t compound it. Do what they ask. Make them believe you don’t remember the book.”
“All right.” Even from the other side of a thick wall, where I’d gotten him sent, Sol was trying to help me. “What about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
A soft scrape came from Sol’s side of the wall.
Then a whisper. At first it sounded like, “I’ll miss you,” but I wasn’t sure. The shadow was gone. Sol was gone. Without a word of goodbye.
Ten
The Council was made up of fourteen judges. Eight men and six women. They wore stiff-looking black robes, severely
short hairstyles, and all appeared to be rail thin. No overindulgence in this group. I forced myself to stay in the present and not think of my grandmother standing before her own council.
I tried to stay calm. I had to get through this—I had to get to the University and become the scientist I was meant to be.
An inspector ushered me to my seat with no explanations of what to expect. At least a dozen other adults sat in the room, all staring at me. I glanced at them quickly, wondering what their crimes might be. It seemed we’d all be present to hear each other’s cases—apparently there was no privacy. While we waited for the hearings to begin, I looked around the spacious room, taking in the marble pillars, the thick beamed ceiling, and the high, arched windows that framed the gray drizzle outside.
Finally, someone moved. The woman in the middle of the judges’ bench clasped her hands together. She seemed to wear a permanent frown, which deepened as I met her gaze. I kept my expression neutral, although I was sure that she could see right through me.
Her long, skeletal fingers unclasped, and she said in a high, reedy voice, “Jezebel, offspring of Naomi and David, please step forward.”
Already? I’d hoped to at least watch a few of the others go through their hearings so that I could prepare a little. I wanted to make sure I said the right things, followed the proper procedure and didn’t mess anything up. I rose quickly, hoping the council would appreciate my eagerness to please, then followed the direction of an inspector who pointed to a sectioned-off area in front of the bench. The worn, crimson ropes formed a square, and as I approached, the inspector unhooked one of the ropes to let me inside.
I took my place and lifted my gaze to the judges. Most of them stared at me, but a few seemed to be looking right past me, as if they had little interest in the proceedings.
The inspector, who’d directed me to the ropes, read the charges from his electronic tablet. I kept my lips pursed as he began. “Citizen Jezebel James has been found out of compliance for the following: possessing an illegal item, in the description of a book. Citizen Jezebel James has also been found out of compliance for the following: reading said illegal book.”
The inspector continued to drone through passage after passage of formalities. I didn’t realize there was so much to say about such a simple crime. Finally his voice cut off, and my breath stalled. Would they hand down judgment immediately? Would I be excused and asked to return after they deliberated?
The room was eerily quiet as I waited.
The head judge spoke first. “Tell us why you read an illegal book.”
I licked my lips, wishing I had Sol or Chalice’s courage. They’d know what to say. Taking Sol’s advice, I said, “I don’t remember opening the book. I only remember picking up the satchel from the Examiner at my childhood home.”
The judge’s expression remained still, as if she hadn’t heard me. She waited. I waited.
I spoke again. “If I’d known what was inside the satchel given to me, I wouldn’t have accepted my inheritance. But since the Examiner gave it to me, I thought there might be important information inside the book.”
Now the judge’s expression changed. Her black eyes narrowed to slits. “Why didn’t you turn it in when you opened the satchel?”
I looked down as I scrambled for an answer. What I said next could determine the rest of my life. “I thought perhaps the book had come into my hands for a reason.” They certainly knew about my caretaker’s letter. “My caretaker gave it to me for a purpose, perhaps as a warning—a warning that is meant for all of us . . . ”
Several of the judges leaned forward, their expressions questioning. My heart sank. Had I said something wrong? Had I given something away? I plunged on, hoping that spending the last five years in their A Level classes had taught me enough to get through this.
“We must always follow the rules, even if we don’t agree,” I continued. “I thought the book was something I was supposed to read—even if I didn’t know why yet.’”
That seemed to relax them, but it was hard to read their placid expressions. The head judge nodded for me to continue.
Was this a good sign? I moved on, embracing the chance to defend myself. “I needed to experience the consequence of hiding something,” I said, directing the focus away from the possibility that I had actually read the book and remembered what I’d read. “The consequence of being caught, and the consequence of standing before the judgment seat.”
The head judge tilted her head, her eyes narrowing. What did that mean? She approved or she didn’t approve?
She was still waiting for me to speak, so I said, “If I’d not had this experience, then I wouldn’t understand the human condition fully as I move on to the University level.” I let out the breath I was holding, hoping they’d believed my act and that it would be enough.
The judge’s hands came together in a swift and decisive motion. “Three months arrest.”
Arrest? I was being sent to prison? I opened my mouth to protest, to question, but stopped myself. Three months . . . how much would that set back my plan? Would I still be eligible for the University?
My eyesight blurred as I tried to appear steady and calm. Somehow I managed to nod to the judge’s council while my mind raced. The inspector gripped my arm and led me from the room. I glanced at the other people waiting their turn. None of them met my gaze now. I was ushered into a side room where a metal cuff was secured around my ankle. It seemed to meld to my skin, flexible, but cool.
Then, we pushed through another door, this one leading to an outside platform in some sort of an alley.
“Where are we going?” I asked the inspector.
He didn’t answer. Maybe I’d be sent to my dorm room and just have to stay inside for three months. My hope grew just a little.
“Do people ever get released early?”
This time he did answer. “Never heard of it.”
My heart sank. I thought I’d made a compelling argument, but it would be dependent on their belief that the agitator had worked on me. I had no way to ask. By the end of three months, how much of the life I’d created would be left?
I’d miss the final tests, the Separation ceremony, the first months of University. Would I still get into the University? Then I remembered . . . the Solstice. Surely I’d be allowed to enjoy the Solstice?
I was about to ask the inspector about Solstice when I heard the familiar sound of an approaching tram. It came around the bend and made an effortless stop. As the inspector guided me onto it, I noticed the dark windows. No one could see in or out. I took a seat on a narrow bench and the inspector sat across from me, his eyes locked on me.
The tram could have held two dozen people—or prisoners. Today it was empty except for us. Seconds later, the metal doors shut, and the dull lights came on. The tram lurched into motion, knocking my head against the shaded window.
After several moments, the tram slowed, and just as I anticipated it stopping, the car tilted downward and descended a hill of some sort. The hairs on the back of my neck bristled. Were we going to the lower levels of the city? The C Level? The docks? Maybe I’d be put on a work crew. But even that would be better than being Banished from the city, to where there was nothing but vast waters and uncivilized Lake Towns full of barbarians.
The air grew noticeably cooler, though that didn’t bother me as much as the encroaching smell. I couldn’t quite identify it. There were definitely chemical qualities to it, not strong enough to burn my eyes, but enough to create a bitter taste in my mouth. I looked at the inspector. He continued to watch me, seemingly unbothered by it.
The angle of the track steepened, and I clutched the bench as the speed increased until, suddenly, we came to an abrupt stop. If I hadn’t already been holding onto the bench, I would have been flung to the floor.
The metal doors opened, and the inspector stood. I rose to my feet, my legs unsteady. The chemical smell was stronger now, invading every one of my senses. The inspector didn’t se
em to notice, but latched onto my arm and guided me out of the tram. As soon as we stepped onto the platform, the doors shut and the tram reversed direction.
It was pitch dark except for glowing beads of light to the side of the platform. The thin string of lights continued to the right, descending as if following a set of steps. Cold air penetrated my clothing, pressing against my skin and making me shiver. There was no doubt now that we were underground.
I folded my arms and inhaled carefully, trying to avoid breathing in the strange smell. The inspector kept ahold of my arm and led me along the strip of light. My vision adjusted slowly, and I began to make out the dimensions of a massive tunnel sloping gently downhill.
“Where are we?” I said, finally daring to ask another question.
His response was abrupt, and something about the tone of his voice made me shudder. “You’ll see soon enough.”
We continued to walk on the smooth surface that vibrated beneath our footsteps. It was certainly metal. Every few steps, I felt a gush of cold air touch my feet as if the floor were suspended somehow and air flowed beneath it.
When the inspector stopped and raised his hand, a door to the side of us that I hadn’t even noticed slid open. He pushed me inside, let go of my arm, and stepped away. The door slid shut behind me, and I was left in complete darkness. Alone.
Eleven
I stood still for several moments, waiting for some other door to open up, for another inspector to take me to the next place. I waited for a voice to come through a speaker and give me instructions, to tell me what tasks I’d be sentenced to for the next ninety days.
But none of that happened. I was alone, with no sound or light, and no way to keep track of time.
The chemical scent was stronger in this room, but it didn’t seem to affect me, so I stopped worrying that they were trying to drug me. Maybe I’d been sent to a facility that processed chemicals, and was going to be forced to work on an assembly line.
I reached my hands out in front of me, hoping to see a glimmer of my skin, but there was nothing in the blackness. I took a step forward, then another. Three steps later I touched a wall. It wasn’t stone or metal, but a soft, pliable substance. I pushed my hand into the wall, making an indent. When I pulled away, it moved back into shape. I ran my hands along it, following until I was in a small circular room.