The World Which Is

Chapter 22

"I'm an adult," I say through clenched teeth.

"You're my son!" he replies, like the two are mutually exclusive. Like that's all I'll ever be to him. Just this thing he's afraid of losing, instead of a person capable of making his own decision. I don't know if there's anything I can say that's going to change that.

"She's my best friend, Dad. It's just the command center. GrandPa Louis will be there, so have Base relay a message to him about watching over me. But I promised her I'd be there. Don't make me break it, please."

His expression softens a little. "Alright, you can go. But you are coming right back here, Dennis. I swear, if you aren't here when I come back for lunch, I will never let you out of this house."

I head for the door without replying. I'm too angry for whatever I'd say to lead to me going to Josie's ceremony.

He can't do this!

Fuck, if there was somewhere I could go, I would.

The door opens when I turn the knob. As soon as it closes behind me, I'm running. I don't want to be late.

* * * * *

I push my way through the crowd until I'm in front. I've seen larger crowds for the ceremony, but then I see there's only four people standing before the control board. Today the panels are going from one wall to the other.

The four of them facing us, and Josie smiles when she sees me. I don't know the other three.

"Today is a special day for these young people," Grandpa Louis says, standing behind them. He's in his commander's uniform. A pale gray coat over a white shirt cut to look like his power armor. He only wears it for special events, and only if it's expected of him, like when he's presiding over Choosing Day. "Today, they pick their classes and the responsibilities that come with them. Today, they leave behind the playtime of children, and take on the duties of adulthood." He steps behind the blond hair boy and places a hand on his shoulder, stopping him from fidgeting. "Martin Bailey, what is your class."

He swallows. "I'm a baker, like my mother," he hurries to add, and a few people chuckle.

GrandPa Louis steps behind the next person. "Josephine Gesner, what is your class?"

"I am a patroller," she answers proudly.

Figures. Patrollers always get to fight, even when there aren't any monster attacks. They're the ones who get called anytime someone's causing trouble.

"Alice Woodrow, what is your class?"

"I am a brewer," she replies, straightening.

"Octavia Eaton, what is your class?"

"I am a mason."

Grandpa Louis steps around her and faces them. "Welcome to adulthood," he says gravely. "The time ahead will be filled with hardship, but remember to make some for things you enjoy. Remember that your class doesn't define who you are, it is only one facet. And don't forget what it was like to be a child. We have enough overly serious adults in this town already."

Chuckles and laughs from the crowd.

"No, I'm serious. You bunch need to lighten up, or I swear I'm pulling out the boots."

More laughter, but from the old folks. It's a joke among them. GrandPa Louis explained it to me, but I still don't get how a boot to the head is a funny thing. Base refuses to make copies of where it's from and pass them along to everyone in town.

"Let the kids make their own humor," is the response anytime GrandPa Louis asks him to do it.

It's interesting how he never orders Base to do it.