Daughter 4254

Chapter 6

 I thought back on the times when I knew the question I wanted to ask would enrage our instructor and I could have held my tongue but chose not to.

 “Why can’t all the ill persons be allowed medicine vouchers?” my six year old voice rang out in my thoughts.

 “4254, you are out of line. The rules are the rules and this is the way it has always been. There are not enough medicines in production. We cannot waste any on those who are unproductive and do not contribute. Class! Let this be a reminder that we do not question the Leaders or the Rules. 4254, stay after class for reprimand. You will be written up for interrupting and badgering your elders.”

 I thought of the time when I picked extra strawberries from the field, hiding them in the pockets of my smock, and brought them to my mother who had not smiled in days. We had not been given a strawberry allowance that season. I knew my mother loved them and I had hoped they would bring her back from the dark place she had seemed lost in. My brother had turned me in for that one.

 Once I saw an older boy sitting in The Chair facing The Shop. He must have done something really horrible because he’d been there for two days, people staring, the sun beating down on him. I couldn’t stand it anymore. I saw his exhaustion and humiliation. I ran home and filled a small pouch with cold water from our tap and ran it back to him, quietly approaching him from behind and handing it over his shoulder before dropping it in his lap. I ran before he could see who had taken pity on him and broken the rules.

 I’m sure he didn’t see me, but the guard at the corner did and blew a whistle, calling me to a halt. If I had stopped then, it might have been better for me. But my blood was coursing through my veins like lightning and I couldn’t stop. I ran towards the woods, thinking that I could possibly hide there or just keep running to the mountains and maybe find a new family, a new community, one where children don’t go hungry for asking questions. The guard tackled me on the dirt path just four paces from our home. My head hit the ground with a thud. I could taste blood and my breath was completely gone. He got to his feet, picked me up like I was nothing more than a pillow, and carried me back to the Secondary School. All children were disciplined at their homes or their main assignment center. I had received food rationing and loss of free time for that little trick. I was too young for The Chair myself or they would have probably added that to the pile. Later, I would be “old enough to know better” when I turned from the trek to school one morning and headed into the woods with a sack of my few things on my back instead of my assigned readers. I was determined to at least make it to the edge of the forest where I could see the mountains more properly.

 “Stealing and hoarding food.” The leader was reading off my list of offenses after they hauled me back. “Trespassing on community forest property. Insubordination. Truancy.” It seemed like after a while that they were just making things up. But I knew the end result.“24 hours in The Chair.”

 I settled into a complete state of apathy as they strapped me in with the leather belt. I still don’t remember much of the daylight hours I spent in the chair. I was so apathetic that time there seemed to just float away from my memory like tiny bits of cotton caught in the wind during harvest. The night, however, was cold and uncomfortable. I kept trying to find a position to sleep in, but it was impossible. There were noises all around me and I was sure some beast would come and rip me and the strap off my vulnerable perch before eating me under a bush somewhere.

 At one point, I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. I turned my head sharply and tried to focus on the spot that moved. There wasn’t much light at all. Curfew was strict and energy was not to be wasted lighting outside areas when they were not in use. My instincts told me there was definitely something there and it was definitely a person. My heart climbed into my throat. Every hair on my body jumped to attention and I held my breath. Suddenly a shape emerged from the darkness and appeared in the light of the half moon that was barely lighting the square. It was my mother.

 “Mother?” I whispered the word to myself, not daring to believe she was really there and not wanting to alert any Auto Eye attendant that might be watching. An adult out past curfew was a serious offence. What was she doing?

 She saw my recognition and she smiled in the dark. She was just close enough that I could make out the light lines starting to form on her face, deep when she smiled and shallow when she relaxed. She kissed her hand and held it out to me. I smiled back at her and she pointed up. I wondered if it was a warning and looked immediately. My eyes met a cloudless sky filled with millions of stars dotting and dancing above me.

 My fear was gone. My anxiety was gone. My mother was there, always watching me. I should have known. I looked back to thank her silently, but she was gone. I spent the rest of the night just staring up. Even in that punishment, there was redemption.

 But on the day of The Tests, for a split second, I thought back on these choices to break the rules and wished I could take them back, if for no other reason than to give myself a better chance at fulfilling my mother’s wishes. The moment was brief, though. I’ve never been one to regret the past. “I have done what I have done and I can’t take it back.” I said this out loud as I stood, to be sure that I could accept it and walk down the stairs into the rest of the day, the rest of my life. I would know in ten days’ time the results of my test and my new assignment. I just had to try to stay out of trouble until then.