I sit on my bed, and a new worry arrives. The same worried anticipation everyone else feels. I fold my hands, and then unfold them. I scratch my leg and find myself tapping my fingers. I force myself to stop. I stand. Stretch. Sit. My fingers fiddle with my MCC.
When Morning Meal ended, we went back to our rooms. We now have ten minutes to do any final mental preparation before we present our first Gratitude Speech. Everyone else has their MCCs now, clutched in their fists.
Ellen Windsor, one of the two Heads, will speak to us for a couple minutes before the Opening Speeches begin. Then we’ll start. The lower numbers will go first. I’ll be towards the end, since my numbers is one of the highest.
I watch my roommates, trying to get my mind off of the speeches.
Piper’s big blue eyes are closed, her head tilted down. She’s breathing deeply. Her hands shake as she brushes away a strand of blonde hair that’s escaped her braid.
Dana focuses on the steel gray wall in front of her. Her mouth silently moves, practicing her speech in her head. Her skin is a few shades darker than mine, but it means nothing to me. Her frizzy, dark brown braid trails over her shoulder. Her fingers distractedly scratch the inside of her elbow.
Kate paces back and forth across the room, her black braid swinging from side to side. Her sharp green eyes flash to me, narrowing in a glare, before passing away.
The normal Teaching Bell rings. We all stand, if we aren’t already, and stride out the door. The hall fills with girls on their way to the Lecture Hall in orderly silence. Nobody pushes or shouts. Nobody says anything. We walk the same, even speed. Just like we are told.
We flood through the doors of the Lecture hall and find our seats. Mine’s in the 12th row, near the back. One of the first seats in that row. I stop at the seat labeled 986 and sit down. Sitting and waiting. Again.
Everyone finds their seats. Every seat is filled except for the normal few in the back. Officials close the heavy, steel doors, standing in front of them. Back straight. Silent as always. Officials talk only when they have to. Every Official’s hair is pulled tight into a bun. Not a stray hair. Black pants, black shoes, and black long sleeved shirts. Flawlessly intimidating.
Everyone sits quietly. Either with our legs or ankles crossed. Hands on our laps. Staring straight ahead. Not a sound escapes our lips.
I watch out of the corner of my eye as five new Officials stalk in. Each grips a small hologram generator. They claim the row of empty seats in the back. They activate their holograms and rapidly type into them.
I direct my attention back to the front after I see another Official climbs up to the stage approaches the podium in the middle. She speaks into the microphone. “I would now like to present Ellen Windsor.”
We clap for five seconds like we were taught in Etiquette Teaching. We have to count. We practiced.
A woman totters up to the stage in high heels, almost tripping over her silvery green gown. Blond, almost white hair curls around her face. Red, red lipstick sticks to her lips. She does what I think is supposed to be a smile, though it looks more like a snarl.
“Hello,” she says, chirping into the microphone. “I’m Ellen Windsor.”
As if we didn’t already know. Everyone knows the names of the Heads. They’ve been drilled into our brains since we were born. Besides, the Official just presented her.
“Today is a fabulous day. The Opening Speeches of the Gratitude Ceremony. I don’t know about you, but I just love Opening Speeches.” She’s too enthusiastic.
“I know that all of you have prepared the most wonderful speeches for me. I wish I could hear them. I really do. But I have many other Opening Speeches to attend to. As you know, I’m listening to the eighteen years, just like always. Three years from now you can present to me. Oh, I can’t wait for it. You look like an especially promising year.” I suppose she says this to every year.
“Now, like I’ve mentioned before, I have a busy day ahead of me, as do you. I must be off. I wish you the best of luck and do your best. I’ll see you throughout the rest of the Gratitude Ceremony.”
Besides today, we don’t know what will happen all the other days of the Gratitude Ceremony. This is our years first time doing it. It lasts for five days. Four days without any type of preparation.
“Remember fifteen years, have fun.”
She wobbles of the stage and waves. We clap again like we practiced. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Stop. Silence.
The previous Official returns to the stage. “We will now start the presentations. When your number appears on the screen, please come to the stage. All the numbers will be in ascending order.”
The first number appears on a screen behind the stage. 836. A smaller girl with red-blonde hair. She slides her MCC into the slot with a shaking hand and slowly begins. The speech praises Ellen and Derek Windsor, the Heads. Just like mine. Just like everyone else’s.
The day goes on and the speeches slur together. Some girls stumble on words with red faces. Other girls confidently fly through their speeches. Anxiousness builds as every girl finishes, bringing it closer and closer to my number. The Officials in the back with holograms don’t look at those presenting. They instead focus on typing into those screen. They must be reporting on our presentations.
The day goes smoothly until 867. I have only a vague memory of her. She glares at everything through defiant eyes. She steps up to the stage, slides her MCC into port and smiles sweetly at the crowd.
Too sweetly.
She begins reading. She gets halfway through her speech before she stumbles over a word. She stops and glances up. Her eyes narrow on the Officials in the back, still typing into their holograms.
“Hey!” Her voice cracks into a scream. The Officials in the back tense. Their blank faces slip into surprise.
She leans over the podium, her voice shrill, “Why don’t you pay attention to us? We were forced to work really hard on these. We’d like you to actually listen to them instead of ignoring us on your little holograms.”
Two Officials stride purposefully towards the girl.
“Oh, that’s right. Ellen, you send your little Officials after anyone who says the truth. Quiet anyone who states that what you are doing is wrong. Do you see this everyone? This is what you are paying gratitude to today. This is Ellen’s ‘perfect’ environment.” The girl speaks carefully into the microphone to make sure everyone understands her.
The Officials reach her, grabbing her wrists. She screams. Kicks. Punches. Slaps. Even bites. “Get away from me. You get your hands off of me. Do you see this everyone? This is our perfect environment in action. I command everyone to remember me. Mia. 867. Remember what they do to me.”
I wonder how many other girls are in the crowd silently agreeing with everything she says. Most of her words hold the truth. But she’s approached it all wrong. The Officials can control us physically, but not mentally.
The Officials lash out and grab her. Mia screams again. Tears stream down her pale face. She makes her body go stiff, then limp. She sits down, before bursting back upright. She lies down, forcing the Officials to pick her up. She tries to turn around, but the Officials have a tight grip on her arm. Too tight to escape now. An Official pulls something out of her pocket. She produces a shiny needle. The clear inside reveals a flash of dark green.
The Official jabs it into Mia’s arm. Mia goes limp, falling hard to the floor. The Officials pick her up and carry her wordlessly out of the room. Her arm drags on the shiny metal floor. New Officials take the other Officials’ place.
A new number flashes on the screen. 868. A different girl stumbles up to the podium. Her face white, her hands shaking. The speeches seamlessly resume. We act as though nothing has happened, just like we’re supposed to. This has happened only a couple other times, but the rules surrounding it are clear.
Don’t talk about Mia. Don’t ask about her. Don’t think about her. She’s in the Unknown now.
We have Mid-day Meal at our normal hour. Over half of the speeches are finished. I internally debate whether I should eat my Vita to listen to what Josh says. What’s wrong with it? We’ve learned what it does in History Teaching. It gives us extra vitamins and nutrients. It guards us against sickness. I decide to eat it, despite his warnings. There are too many Officials today. Maybe I’ll try another day. Just once. I pop it into my mouth, the sour taste covering my tongue. I swallow it easily and wash it down with water.
The Opening Speeches resume. The numbers creep closer to mine. Piper’s number appears. 984. She confidently strides forward, climbing up the steps. She takes a deep breath and begins. Her voice shakes slightly at the beginning, but she relaxes as she continues. Her speech flows easily to the end. She steps down as Kate’s number shows on the screen.
Kate looks out at the crowd with her cold eyes. She launches into her speech. Fast. Too fast. It’s hard to understand what she’s saying.
A thought creeps its way into my head, slowly growing. Dizziness overtakes me at the thought of it.
I know why my Renewal Official gave me back my MCC. She ruined my speech, deleted it or changed it. She must be watching. She wants to see me embarrass myself. She will laugh when I say what she wrote. Laugh when I am confused. Laugh when I am taken to the Unknown.
I look up. Kate wraps up her speech. I’m not ready. I can’t. Black spots dance across my vision. My unfocused eyes catch my blurred number flashing across the screen. I stand, trying to clear my thoughts. I can’t.
I step in the aisle and stumble up the stairs. I’ve been preparing for this for days, yet it feels unreal.
I slide my MCC into the port. Words appear in the hologram floating above the podium. I feel the eyes of everyone on me. I look out to the crowd, close to two hundred people, four hundred eyes.
The only thing I can do is read.