The Unspoken: Book One in the Keres Trilogy (2 page)

Harc steps back in line with only the tiny crown of circuits and silk in her hair. Factories. I see a vision of her losing one of her beautiful long fingers in the machines and I almost choke on a sob.

“
Wex.
”
My heart is in my stomach again, as it was for Merit. Only there is a burning sensation in my throat now, and my eyes begin to prick. I feel the stage move under me as he walks to the center. There
’
s a buzzing in my ears as I strain all my senses to discover what they have done to him during our Solace.
“
Powerful as the river water coming down from the distant mountains, Wex can serve Chelon with the strength of ten boys his age, though he is wise enough to realize his own limitations. Never crossing boundaries and always responsive to a request.
”

The crowd presses forward as Wex is left with two ornaments, a string of golden corn with ruby tomatoes studded in-between and a sparkly circular wreath of coal. The novice moves in front of him so the crowd can
’
t see which is removed and placed on the table in front of him. Wex runs his eyes over the table and narrows them for an instant. The string of corn. Nutriment Cultivation. Wex is in the fields. It seems unreal. Wex has achieved the ultimate goal of working outside of the inner wall, out from under constant observation. Something reserved for the most obedient, not for someone just this morning released from Solace.

Before I can fully comprehend Wex
’
s assigned line of Service, Frehn is already in the center with ornaments being removed.
“
Power needs structure, patience needs guidance. He excels in Physical Assessment, as you can all imagine,
”
there is a demure giggle from all the girls,
“
Frehn is a young man on the verge of being someone on whom all of Chelon can depend, if he chooses.
”
They say things like this so we all feel dependent on each other
’
s cooperation. So we feel that we must comply in order to keep the rest of Chelon from punishment.

Charming and mischievous, Frehn had stolen kisses from all three of us girls by the time we were nine. And we all had been in love with him for it. Unafraid and steadfast, remarkable. He had the misfortune to be born a twin just minutes after the Spring Grouping. He was raised with his twin for a year before the next Grouping took place, and because we cannot have blood families, his twin was removed from him and placed with another Play Group. But he remembers, and whenever we passed others from our year in the halls, his eyes were always searching their faces, looking for a face that matched his own.

And his eyes dart now, not at the crowd before us, but at the people on stage. He has not looked forward once since called. His movement is not unnoticed, but as he is not looking at PG3456, he is not likely to be punished harshly. The novice places her hands on his hips in an effort to remind him of where he is. He looks down at her as if it
’
s the first time he has seen her and smiles wearily. She has removed the last ornament, leaving a looping chain of diamonds and coal laced with emeralds that match his eyes. My head reels. Frehn is in the mines. Uncontainable Frehn underground.

I lock my eyes on him as he walks back to the line, back tall and strong as ever, resolute. He glances at me and winks.

So they haven
’
t broken you after all
. I feel his strength in
that wink, defiant and patiently waiting for his moment.

“
Keres!
”
It
’
s almost said harshly and I suspect the Mother needed to repeat herself. I
’
m filled with a desire to present a good show for Chelon, for the Absolute Mothers watching from their balcony, and for PG3456. I am not broken. At least for the next three minutes. I am whole, unchanged. Assign me in the textile factories, let me frantically work to keep my hair and limbs out of the weaving machines, leaving me no spare minute to let my mind wander and plot.

I force my back straight and attempt to glide to the center of the stage, tying to emulate a dancer
’
s smooth movements. I purposefully avoid looking at anyone, pinning my eyes to the corner of the opposite residence compound. With a slight smile that I hope is steady, I try to raise my hollow cheeks so the blue star under my eye catches the sunlight. There is a rustle in the crowd as a woman moves forward slightly.

“
Keres, born on a summer
’
s morning in the height of growing season. Her hands are nimble, top of her class in all the Pedagogics. Physical Assessment marks higher than most of the boys.
”
She glances around the Play Groups at this, waiting for the boys to make noises of disbelief. They don
’
t.
“
She is quick of mind and resistant to bodily harm.
”
Yes, and won
’
t that help me when I am fighting against the machines. She
’
s not talking anymore. The crowd is not moving, PG3456 are statues. I glance down at the table in front of me to count the removed ornaments. Nutriment Cultivation, Mineral Recovery, Architects, Healers, Pedagogics, Fauna Management, Keeping... and Component Fabrication. What
’
s left? I instinctively reach up to my hair and pat, and I feel it. The cold black diamond of the Unspoken.

I try to remember the last time I saw someone left with the black diamond. Like water swirling down a drain, my mind pulls me down into the past. All the years blur together in an eddy of colors and sounds. I remember an Oath of Service exactly like this one, only I was looking up at the stage rather than down from it. There was a boy, left with just the sparkling black diamond hanging from his belt. He looked perplexed. I suppose the same way I do now. His brow creased as if he was trying to remember a time before him when the black diamond remained. No one in the audience clapped for him either.

I feel like an empty shell standing on the stage, my hand on the black diamond, my soul hovering somewhere above my body. Everything goes in and out of focus around me, and the soundless crowd before me melts into a myriad of visions.

Over the past two years of my life there were days when the Heavy Feeling threatened to overcome me. It pressed me back down when I tried to get out of bed. I could visualize its long black smoke fingers sinking into my chest, pushing me further away from what I knew I needed to do. I needed to get up. I needed to move. The Heavy wouldn
’
t allow it.

Late yesterday afternoon there was a sound at the door followed by a light clicking on in my room. The Mothers had come in to take the lunch tray and replace it with the dinner version. I couldn
’
t open my eyes to see which Mother brushed the crumbs away from my sheets. It was as if she
’
s brushed my mind clean and I couldn
’
t remember anything. I had to wait until they were gone and the light was off to sink back and hide in my memories. It wasn
’
t difficult to remain perfectly still while they wiped my face and hands with a wet cloth. They spoke to me in low soothing tones while they bustled around me. Reminding me that tomorrow was a big day and I would have to get up.

I wondered then what they would do if I just stayed like this, immobile and void of emotion. Prop me up on a dolly and wheel me down to the center courtyard to be assigned to Service? The thought of The Mothers having to cover up my current state at a public ceremony cheered me a little. I could picture them gathered in groups, their large white headdresses rubbing against each other, franticly trying to piece a plan together that would appease the crowd. No one wants to see a fifteen year old girl who has been devoured by the Heavy. People may become upset if they see the Solace has not reformed but broken me. That would be a waste of resources.

The light switched off and The Mothers left at last. In reality they were probably only in the room for a few minutes. But since my Solace had begun, minutes had felt like days. Alone again, I inhaled deeply trying to smell what they had left for dinner. Soup. Knowing I would have to eat to get through the ceremony, they would leave something I
’
d have to sit up to eat. Just an extra reminder of their control, even if they let me wallow, despondent under the Heavy.

Slowly, I pushed myself up the headboard into a sitting position and swung the tray forward over me. The spoon felt like it was made of lead and the soup was thick. The clock
’
s face showed it took me more than an hour to finish and slide back down in the sheets. Now that the business of surviving to the next meal was over, my mind was free to wander again.

I had shut my eyes and tried to think about what brought us to this place. In my mind I could hear the sharp intake of breath at the door and a great deal of tisk-ing noises. I remembered being jolted awake; we were in the common room and it was long after power down. PG3456 in a mass on the floor. We had fallen asleep in each other
’
s arms. The Mothers
’
faces were white with horror. We were picked up, taken to our rooms, and told punishments would come in the morning. And they did of course, but perhaps because we were only ten or maybe because we were all together rather than in pairs that night, the punishment was light. We hauled water barrels for Fauna Management. But after that night, someone came to be sure our solitary doors were locked every night after power down.

When I was thirteen, PG3456 finally found the limit to The Mothers
’
tolerance. It started in a Traditions lecture. The instructor was reviewing the details of Play Groupings and how they are essential to Chelon
’
s success as a city. He paused to ask if there were any questions. Doe raised her hand to ask what made a baby a boy or a girl. When the anatomy chart was pulled down and explained again, Doe shook her head,
“
No, I mean what decides if a baby will become a boy or a girl? Is it The Mothers?
”
A pained expression flashed across the Pedagogic
’
s face, and he ignored the question, continuing on with the lecture. Doe slipped down low in her seat so as not to catch his eye again, silently thankful he did not press his button, summoning The Mothers.

The rest of the morning lectures passed without anything out of the ordinary and we let the tension go with a sigh of relief.

After lunch, we opted to walk near the outer wall, which afforded us a marginal level of privacy instead of attending one of the voluntary activities taking place around the Quad.

“
Why wouldn
’
t the Pedagogic answer Doe? She gave credit to The Mothers after all,
”
Wex began immediately.

“
Maybe it
’
s because The Mothers don
’
t pick. It
’
s probably biology just like the animals. It
’
s just chance who ends up a boy, and that riles them up,
”
Frehn said.

The question that biology and animals related to us somehow sent us all into pensive silence for the rest of our walk. That night at dinner, a Mother approached and asked us to follow her. We left our trays where they sat and complied. She led us to her sitting room and began to ask us questions about what we learned in lectures that day. We knew what was coming. Without an outward signal of any kind, we unilaterally agreed not to speak about the Traditions lecture. We would force the Mother to ask us about it directly.