by Tanya Ross
Will smiled and nudged his friend on the shoulder. “Black’s ugly, but I’m gonna try to make it look good.”
“Yeah, right. The yellow stripe on that hat looks like a halo. And you’re no angel. I know the real truth about you.”
Will laughed and gave Wee a shove. “Just don’t tell anyone,” he said in his most dramatic voice. Taking off his hat, he twirled it with his fingers and then tossed it up to catch it a few times before dropping it at his feet.
“Well, I won’t be competing with you in scoring points. Your Alt’s gotta be on fire! How many points did you rack up, anyway?” Wee said.
Will picked up his hat and put it back on his head, its brim to the back. “Because of yesterday? I figure 16,000 points maybe. To rise up, it’s a 4,000-point increase, right? I’m still in shock.” Will opened his eyes wide and put his hands on both sides of his face, clowning around.
Then he got serious. He glanced down at the Alt on his wrist. Its leather band was embossed with every one of Tranquility’s Status colors in a mosaic design. The Alt’s face—a two-inch, digital screen—was square and flat. The numbers on the black background changed constantly depending on the function being displayed. It not only told time; it was his communication device. But its most important function was its purpose—to track the way he felt every minute of his life. It measured every single emotion. This minute he was happy, but he always felt the pressure to keep his mood light.
Weeford whistled. "Won’t be long you’ll be moving out of Turquoise Towers and into Yellow Sunrise. Ya won’t want to walk to my place."
Will said in disbelief, “Can you believe it? All my dreams are coming true. I just wish…”
Weeford shook his head up and down. “I get it. I know your family’s story. Your family still lives in White Sands. And why would anyone want to live his or her life on Level One? I don’t understand why your parents can’t seem to rise up.”
Will looked around, suddenly conscious of the people around them easily hearing the conversation about his parents. It was okay that Weeford knew everything about his family. But he didn’t want it broadcast all over the street corner.
Will felt his face flush. Whether from embarrassment about his parents or guilt about feeling that way, it was an emotion to avoid. Time to put a positive spin on it. “Me? I don’t want to wear white every day. Be a Level One. No living in a two-bunk, one-bath, solo-bedroom apartment.”
Weeford said, “You turned eighteen anyway. You’re on your own. You do what you need to do. Your parents have a whole different idea of life.”
“My parents say they want to live ‘simple lives’,” Will said, “but I don’t believe it. It’s like they’re stuck or afraid to move up—I don’t know. Their lives are limited. They can’t afford to buy anything they want or eat great food. It upsets me.”
Weeford’s face showed concern, his eyebrows looking like caterpillars going uphill. “You can’t let it upset you. Their situation isn’t about you. Don’t let your points drop over it. Remember, they —”
“Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself – you know that. But, yeah. I know I’ve told you what my parents believe. And you’ve kept it a secret. Thanks. But now I’m a Level Twelve, I’m gonna get them out of White Sands.”
“Will, how’re you gonna do that? It’s not like you’re Elite.”
“Someday, Wee…”
Will gazed out across the intersection, now a hive of colors and activity, but he didn’t really see any of it. His mind was in a faraway place. He badly wanted to be important, and that meant rising up. But he never wanted to do it at someone else’s expense. In his heart, he knew he had a purpose, and it was far bigger than himself.
“Only four more levels to go, and you’ll be a candidate for the Elite. Then I can say ‘I knew you when,’” Wee said.
Will’s face brightened. “As Elite I could help make decisions to help people like my parents. I would honor my grandfather. He taught me so much about supporting our government and making Tranquility a better place.”
Wee said, “It wouldn’t surprise me if you also got an Augur Prize for what you’ve done. I can see that happening, too.”
“You give me too much credit, Wee. If it weren’t for Jesse’s rescue, I’d just be an ordinary guy.”
“But your Alt points don’t drop—ever. Don’t know how you do it. Nothing bothers you or upsets you. For the rest of us, growing our Alt points is a challenge,” Wee said.
Will knew it was true. He had an incredible mindset. Although he still had to check and recheck his Alt like everyone else, he made his point increases an unparalleled personal quest. Like a young athlete diligently preparing for the Olympics, he practiced the art of self-control until he thought his soul would bleed.
Will looked at his friend. “I try really hard. To be honest, though, I have fears—fears I’ll never be able to help my parents. Letting my grandfather down. Keeping myself apart from emotional risks, like girls. Failing at my new job…it all scares me, Wee. I’m not stone, even though I want to be.”
The fog around them was lifting, evaporating in the mystical way Tranquility controlled its precipitation. The monthly vapor acted as a cleaning process for the city, purifying their enclosed city from within. Rays of sun shone through translucent holes in the mist, making the space look other worldly. Will gazed up, his focus on the sparkle that hung in the air.
Weeford punched Will’s arm. “Yeah. And now that you’re a Level Twelve, you can’t even date anyone with a lower Status. That’s gonna be a real challenge. Who you gonna find your age who’s a Level Twelve?”
“I’m not ready to think about that. I just want to do what’s best for Tranquility and be happy.”
As if his fears literally came to life, he watched as two men dressed in bright red robes with hoods come out from Seventh Heaven, a popular restaurant, across the street. Sciolists! They carried a young, protesting female with purple hair toward a crimson CommuteCar parked at the curb. The teenage girl—a lowly Level One—flailed against her unwelcome detainers with her arms and legs. “Let go of me! Let go!” she screamed. The fight she put up clearly marked her as a resistor. No one acted like that, even in a Removal. It just wasn’t proper.
He and Wee both turned to watch, their mouths agape, along with others standing along the sidewalk. One by one, people looked away or cast their eyes downward, embarrassed, and moved on. The girl, still screaming, and the silent Sciolists carrying her disappeared into the car. The CommuteCar took off, moving down the street as if it were a common occurrence.
“Poor girl,” Will finally said. “Did you see her face? So red. She was crying.” His face crumpled in sympathy, and his Alt vibrated with a surge in points. For compassion and kindness, the Alt was generous. “I’d like to help people like that.”
“I’ve never seen a Removal in progress before, have you?” Wee said.
“No. Must be a pretty severe violation of emotion, though. She was hysterical. Not good.”
“Just so long as it’s never one of us,” Wee said.
“I hope she gets the help she needs.”
“Maybe she’s going directly to The Outside,” Wee said, in an uncharacteristic whisper, his eyes wide.
“Hope not. The climate out there…enough to drive people insane. I’ve heard things. It’s either blistering hot or ungodly cold. Always gray. That—and other things. Can’t believe anyone could actually survive out there.”
Wee said, “I’ll take my blue skies and 75 degrees in Tranquility, please. Climate control rocks.”
Will’s Alt buzzed a warning. The GPS tracker connected to his Alt showed he wasn’t close enough to his destination to be there at eight A.M.
“I’d better get going. I don’t wanna be late.” Will began walking backward as he talked. “Wish me luck for my first day…I’m headed to the Plauditorium now.”
“You don’t need luck, Will—you might as well have ‘Too Talented’ written in the sky ove
r your head.” Weeford wrote with his finger in the air. “You’ve got it all now, buddy! Catch ya later.”
Will, intent on making up time, strode forward, but stopped, turning back to his friend.
“Wee! Hang out later?” he yelled.
“Can’t today. Gotta work late,” he called back.
Weeford waved again and then darted across the adjacent crosswalk into Prosperity Park and blended in with the Pink Level Fours like himself waiting in line to go over the bridge.
Will watched him until he disappeared. From his vantage point, it looked like a rainbow of colors fanned out, starting with the Level Eighteens dressed in gold at the front of the line. A peaceful process for a perfect city.
The last block to the Plauditorium was down a charming street with little shops, all with friendly facades and inviting scents. The Candy Tree was first on his left. Its picture window featured precisely carved chocolate creations, hung with red licorice and flowers made from frosting. It cost very few of his Alt points to acquire candy from the store, and it was always busy, filled with people, even this morning as he sauntered by. He grinned as he watched the children buying candy for breakfast, their faces full of smiles and their bodies jumping up and down in anticipation. Lucky kids. He looked past the sign that barred anyone below a Level Three from entering the store. The memory of his own disappointment as a child who was excluded from the shop surfaced momentarily, but he quickly dismissed it. He no longer had those restrictions. His new Status would allow him to purchase so many excellent things—from tailored clothes to gourmet food.
Next door, The Wild Hair, one of Tranquility’s salons, boasted its popularity with luminescent pink, green, and yellow curly cues on its façade. He sidestepped a thin, smiling woman who emerged from the door. Her bright pink hair stood straight out around her head like a lion’s mane. Of course, it matched her outfit, a Level Four, through and through.
A seventy-inch monitor on his left invited prospective patrons to witness inspiring makeovers. Anyone in Tranquility, man or woman, could get a luxurious spa treatment—featuring an effervescent green solution called Lustrum—and emerge looking years younger and refreshed. No one had to worry much about appearing old unless they didn’t have enough Status or Alt points to get an appointment. Some day. Someday I might need that.
The Detoxification Station, the third store on the street, was a bold, kelly green, the color used to represent nurturing and new beginnings. He gave a nod and a smile to the lovely models outside the door who were giving out samples of freshly minted water and cleansing minerals. Each sample not only tasted refreshing but gave each person who samples it a burst of energy to face their day. A virtual reality advertisement in the window announced the shop’s special for the day. They were offering a half-off special only for Level Twelves to honor Energy, that Status Level’s unique trait. Will politely passed on the offer as he thought, I have more energy than I need.
Staring into The Salt Mine’s window next, Will pressed the app on his Alt to remind him to stop there later. He remembered he was out of Jarnish—the best tiny cracker in town. Sprinkled with sea salt, cinnamon, and coated in peanut oil, it was a sticky, addictive treat. He continued on down the crowded street with new anticipation, knowing he would be able to snack on Jarnish on his way home.
3
Will’s Promise
Will was pumped full of hope. He stopped a block away from the Plauditorium and thought again about his humble parents and wise grandfather.
A sweet memory floated to the surface of his mind—a special, unforgettable discussion he’d had with his grandfather, Blake Verus. Will had spent many golden hours with his grandpa—time he fervently wished he could bring back. He had enormous trust and love for the old man, his balding head shiny as the moon, his eyes a paler version of green than Will’s own. He loved the way the edges of Grandpa’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how the grooves of his smiles were imprinted on his gentle face. He knew now they were only wrinkles. Back then, he thought his gramps had simply been marked with permanent happiness pleats.
His grandpa always seemed so wise; Will knew he had to be The Most Enlightened Being in the universe. He was the one who knew all the true answers to life’s puzzling questions, and yet he had the goodness and joy of the most ideal citizen of Tranquility. Will had always wondered why the old man always dressed in orange until he understood that he was a Level Thirteen, a Status worthy of deep pride.
Will had been only eight when his innocent, eager curiosity spawned the most important conversation of Will’s life. It had happened only a couple of years before his beloved grandpa passed away.
“What was the world like before?” Will had asked, climbing up on his grandpa’s lap.
“Ah. A bad place. We were starving. No money.”
“Did someone steal their money, Grandpa?”
Will turned his head and moved it close to his grandpa’s face so their foreheads were only an inch apart.
“Not any certain person, no. They had money in a savings account, but the banks failed. They never got their money back. They couldn’t make ends meet.”
Will pulled his face back, still keeping his eyes on his grandfather’s, but then leaning away.
“But your dad had a job, didn’t he?”
“Yep. Sent drones around the country. High demand for it, too. But after a while, no one was able to buy anything. Or send mail. People lived awhile on what they had. When supplies ran out, people did anything for food. They committed crimes. Even killed people. They were only out for themselves. It was hopeless.”
“That’s awful. You had to live through that?” Will climbed off his grandpa’s lap, pushing his arms up and down on his grandpa’s knees.
“Yes, buddy. That’s why you must promise to always follow the laws we have here in Tranquility.”
Will stopped moving. His grandpa’s tone was stern. It scared him a little. He plucked at the pajamas he wore, discovering that the white fabric actually had white dinosaurs on it. But Will couldn’t—shouldn’t—think about dinosaurs. His grandpa was talking about laws. That was a lot more important.
“What are the laws? How can I remember them?” Will rubbed his face, as if to erase the lines of worry on his forehead.
“Tranquility’s laws are always in the Cloud.” His grandpa pointed up.
“In the clouds?” Will asked, looking at the ceiling.
“Not an actual cloud, like the ones in the sky. It’s an invisible thing. Every person has access to ‘em. I have a printed copy, too. I like my printed copy. It’s solid—real.” Will’s grandpa shuffled across the room and opened a drawer in an orange bureau. He carried the printed copy back, treating it with great honor. “Let’s read it together, Will, and then I’ll teach you how to memorize them.” His voice cracked with awe as he began to read:
LAWS AND SOCIAL ORDER OF TRANQUILITY
Accord Number One
Every citizen will be issued an Alt from the time they are five years old. Each day’s Alt measurements for HAPPINESS will be collected, analyzed, and submitted to the Elite at City Hall. All citizens must commit to be a part of the Continuum Spectrum.
Every increase in points by 4000 on the Spectrum will result in approval for advancement in Status by the Elite Council. Achievement on the Status hierarchy will result in the following upgrades and privileges, including and limited to:
● Neighborhood – citizens will be assigned to a housing area in keeping with their Status
● Food – various levels of chef expertise and availability of foods by Status Level
● Clothing – color assigned to the Status with potential designer availability
● Jobs/Careers – increased levels of responsibility for leadership in the community
● Privileges – access to store products and services
● Transportation – available by monorail, sedans, and limousines
● Activities – community events, recreation and thea
ter
“So, I’ll explain this, so you’ll understand. Your Alt. The points on it? It’s what you use to get everything. Food. Clothes. Toys. Your parents use ‘em, too. That’s what makes Alt points so important. Long ago, there was money. Now, you use your points. Understand?”
Will shook his head up and down in an exaggerated “yes.”
“Let’s look at your Alt, Will.” The old man turned Will’s wrist up to face him. “Your points. They’re good. Keep it up.” He gave Will a broad smile.
Will’s enthusiasm boiled over. He patted his grandpa’s face. “So, that’s why you live in Orange Glen, and I live in White Sands?’
“Yes, Will. If you work hard at being happy, no matter what happens in your life, you could live in Orange Glen someday, too.” Grandpa cleared his throat and began to read again:
Accord Number Two
All citizens who have achieved a new Status goal will attend and be recognized at Status ceremonies. This will be conducted at City Hall by the Elite, with the Magistrate presiding, on the 18th day of each month, at 7:00 p.m.
“Each year there’s a ceremony. A big party. At City Hall. But just for people who rise up to a new Status level.”
“How many times, Grandpa?”
“For what, Will?”
“How many ceremonies did you have?”
“Well. Let’s see. That would’ve been twelve.”
Will jumped up and down, his legs like springs. “That’s a lot!”
Grandpa chuckled. “You’re right, my boy. Keep listening.” His voice took on a more serious tone.