The Web

Chapter 2

When I first came here almost straight away I noticed that people don't like to speak aloud. I realized that it is because it is easier to pick up if you are lying when you talk. I am one of these people. James, my brother, used to laugh at me when I would try to hide his presents from him before Christmas. He used to say my voice goes higher whenever I really try to lye. So it is thanks to him I have learned this about myself. Now I don't talk unless necessary. It's hard, really hard. But important if I am to be seen as a good citizen. Being classified as a "big-mouth" can be bad to have on your file. So now I find myself owing my brother, just like old days. I miss him.

Here rules are very strict. When I arrived everything was taken from me. They said it was so that everyone has a chance of being equal, and starting from the same position so that it is easier to study our behavioral patterns. It has taken me a long time but, once I had a good record on the database, and collected 300 points to show for it, the outsiders granted me an art book. It is small with rough paper, perfect for drawing. I was told that no one else was to see what I drew, just in case of messages I thought. But I agreed and it was given to me. I have to put it in a locker that has a pin when I'm not using it. Thou I have this sneaking suspicion that they check my book when I put it my locker for it shoots up once it is locked in and comes back only when I enter the pin code. But I don't mind. It has taken me far too long to get it and it would be too easy to complain and have it taken away. I just have to be careful of what I draw.

Our city walls create a circle. That circle encloses us and forms our boundaries. There are around 300 people here, I have drawn 175. Most people here have tanned skin when they first arrive because of the sweltering sun on the outside. But after a month you can already see them pale. That's why I try to draw newcomers, there is more spark in their eyes. Sometimes the outsiders that work in the kitchen or shops ask me to draw them. Once they realized I am banned from showing them my book and they grab me a blank slip of paper and ask me to draw them on it instead. Later I realized that my points were suddenly higher. So now I know how to get more points.

Now I have been given a booth out the front of one of the outsider's shops. It's not uncommon for an insider to be given a job by a person of The Web. They say it draws people to there shop. I get paid 5 dollars a day. I know it is not much, but for every person, I draw they pay me a dollar. And every time someone comes to the booth because of me and then goes into the shop I get an extra dollar. On a really good day, I can leave with up to 24 dollars.

Because of my new job, I will be kicked out of the room I stay in now when I turn 18. But that's just rules of The Web. Proper money management can earn you points.

"Morning Kathryn," I say as I swing open the door at the shop. Manners can be good for record and points but no one has been able to test how many points from manners you receive. So manners are just a default of ours now.

"Good, good, on time as usual. I have paints ready for you, I think we need to step up our game. The other shops seem to be trying to use out tactics." Kathryn rambled as she went out the back to fetch the paint. I looked down at the floor so that I do not see any of the things that price far above my worth. My black boots are scuffed and tattered against the smooth wooden floors. Jeans are two sizes too big for me so that I do not have to buy a new pair for long. Small holes crowd around the knees.

"Pick your head up girl, there's far too much work to be done. Now, have you been practicing with paint in your sketchbook of yours back at the room?"

"Yes ma'am," I reply with my head up, her eyes are a soft brown with black hair that is pulled back into a long braid behind her head.

"Good," she says, "good, good," handing me the paint with an approving nod. I turn and head out to the front both. The doorbell chimes in my ear as I step off the shop step. The booth is painted blue, drawings of people crowd the walls, held up by little white thumbtacks.

Sitting down on the hardwood chair, all my equipment in front of me, I look out to the street. People walk forwards and back in their well-rehearsed lives. You can tell who they are by their factual expression and clothes. Some people except this life, others just keep their mouth shut. Here everything is quiet, but not peaceful. People are kind bet not honest. For people that have been trapped by lyes, they make many more of their own. But not everyone is as easily persuaded to stay, I call them the Candidus, people who want to speak out, who want the democracy back. Candidus don't often get to say as much as they like, we the Taciturn find them selfish and stupid. The people who choose to join the Candidus make it harder for the rest of us to live in peace. They are the reason there is so little trust here, but they are ofter newcomers that turn Cadidus and get caught. There seems to be an unwritten rule on newcomers and how we must pardon their rash behavior.