CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Stoner Demands Answers
Over at the
Headquarters of the Blue Guard, Inspector Ward Stoner was on another rampage.
“Boone!” He barked as he charged past Chalky Boone’s desk. “Come into my
office.”
“Right,” she responded as she
grabbed up her palm-held verbal steno recorder.
The inspector stood at the
window seeing nothing. “I need as much information as you can get on Christiana
Applewait.”
“Lady Applewait?” she
questioned.
“Yes, Christiana Applewait. Is
she so far above us all that you can’t get a dossier on her?” Stoner’s body
twitched as he hiked up his pants and smoothed his shirt trying to control his
seething anger.
Chalky blinked in disbelief.
“Yes . . . Ward . . . she is ―”
Stoner certainly knew the law.
He turned and glared at her. His valued assistant and First Lieutenant was
perhaps the only person left in the city who actually knew him. “Chalky, I don’t
want to hear that answer.”
“I know you don’t, but it’s
the truth.” Chalky stood her ground with feet firmly planted. She was the only
person who could tell the Chief Inspector, “No.”
“Boone, let’s not talk about
what’s true. Let’s grind out a little of what’s necessary.”
“Ward . . . she is a Legacy
Citizen. You know the laws regarding the Council of Elders and those who will
rise to that position. The Law of 2031 purged every file known to Society of
even the name of a Legacy Citizen. None of our e-files have a word about the
Wise Ones.” Boone’s tone was calming but firm. Educated as a lawyer, she knew
the law.
“What about the little wise
crackers, the second and third generations?” He hissed with sarcasm.
“Inspector ―”
“Then how do we know she’s
Legacy? Tell me that.” His face was red and the veins on his temples bulged
with anger. “Can’t anyone do their job around here but me?” he shouted.
“There is a paper file on each
of the members of the Council, their ancestors, their descendants, and any
pertinent information about them, including education, achievements, and their
writings. But, there is nothing that we can access from our readers. It is not
in the air, anywhere. It’s on paper.”
“Okay, okay, let’s sit down
and brainstorm.” Stoner sat at his desk, leaned back and closed his eyes.
“Applewait is her father’s name. She is Legacy by linage from her maternal
grandparents, Oliver and Constance Richly.”
“Yes, that’s true, Ward, but
she is also Legacy through her paternal grandparents, Abraham and Claudia
Applewait. They passed into the sleep several years ago following a house
fire.”
“Those wood frame houses in
Oakwood should have been demolished a long time ago. They’re nothing but tinder
boxes waiting to ignite,” Stoner said. “The fancy people think they are so
great because they have so much space.”
“Space and ambiance. I was in
one once and it seemed so warm and friendly.”
“Oh please,” Stoner drew out
his words with indignation. “Those buildings take a lot more maintenance than
the newer, high-rise buildings.”
“Yes Sir. There was a rumor
that the senior Applewait’s house was deliberately torched,” Boone added.
“Why hadn’t I heard about
that?” Stoner snapped back. “Arson is a crime you know.”
“That was about the time your
wife went to sleep, Ward. You were off duty and probably weren’t informed.”
Stoner made no response. He
had barely acknowledged the passing of his wife in his own frozen emotions. He
was locked in a state of grief and anger and never spoke of her out loud.
“So, by linage, she is a Lady,
Lady Applewait,” Boone broke the silence.
“I’m not impressed,” Stoner
snapped back. “So, where are these paper files on the Legacy Citizens?”
“I . . . don’t know how to
access them,” Boone said. “But, some place I ran across the addresses of a few
Legacy Citizens. Those locations are stored here in my palm-reader.” She spoke
into her reader, “Legacy addresses.” She selected a tab and the information was
instantly available. “Christiana Applewait lives in the penthouse,” she read,
“in the Indian River Apartments.”
A slight sneer crossed
Stoner’s lips. “Yes, I know.”
Chalky looked up but said
nothing about his comment. “Her parents live in the Lee Ridge High Rise and her
grandparents, two of the twelve, live in Oakwood, at 721 Primrose Lane.”
“That’s all we have?” He
growled. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Who has access to the paper
files if they’re so secret?”
“The Council of Elders, Sir,”
she stated flatly as if she had just completed a circle. “And those files are
stored in the vault at Fort Knox, Kentucky where the gold used to be stored.”
“The gold is still there, Boone.
It was never moved as they said it had been.” Stoner’s expression softened from
the anger that was usually stored around his eyes. “I would be willing to bet
that not even the current Council members remember what’s in those files. We
could say anything we wanted to about any of them.”
“Yes, but if you spread lies
about even one of them, are you willing to bet your career, maybe even your
life, on getting away with it?” Chalky asked.
“Maybe not this time. For now,
it may be enough to know where I can find them. As long as I know where these
people are, they’re as good as captured. They’re not going anywhere. I’ll keep
an eye on Oakwood myself. It might be amusing to haunt the good little citizens
who never have a worry, never have a care. Maybe I can shake them up a little
bit.”
“Ward, you just can’t harass
them.” Chalky moved in a little closer and nearly whispered. “It’s against the
law.”
“Boone, I am the law!” he
shouted.
“Hold your voice down, Sir.
You’re sounding out of control.”
“Don’t you dare talk to me like
that,” he seethed.
“I’m the only one who can,
Ward.” She refused to retreat; she did not back down.
“You listen to me Boone, I
don’t plan to do anything now, just watch and wait. But, the time may come when
the benefit of creating some chaos in Oakwood might far outweigh the cost. I
don’t know when. Maybe years from now. But, it would be fun if it happened in
my lifetime.” He spun his chair around and refocused his stare outside his
office. “I have the time. Laws or no laws, power is everything. I can wait for
the prize — when the golden nugget is ultimate control.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Gracie’s Grief
9:30 a.m.
My
conversation with Marge at the library had lifted my spirits. She had revealed
her knowledge of the suppressed book and other forbidden documents hidden in
the back rooms. I kept the book I had slipped out of the library wrapped in the
folds of my cloak. As I rode across town to the medical center, I saw Sean, the
man from the sing along—the one who delivered underground newspapers. He was sitting
on the P-T side bench, and this time, I wasn’t uncomfortable. He smiled but
said nothing. I found that strange, since he had spoken out so freely last
evening. Then, I saw that he was carrying a large bag of rolled up newspapers.
I was amazed to see the papers out in the open! News sheets of any size had not
been printed in years and the reality was, they had been forbidden. The
Government Communications Agency, the GCA, hadn’t initially banned them, but
had corrupted the print outlets to the point they were no longer credible.
Columnists and reporters were regulated on the most trifling detail, to the
point they were eventually forbidden to report almost anything. Finally,
newspapers were banned with the excuse they were no longer relevant.
Sean is delivering newspaper around town! He must have been delivering papers each
time I had seen him on the bus. Since people hadn’t seen newspapers in our
lifetime, there was no danger. They didn’t know what he was carrying.
I started to walk past him
without acknowledging his presence but he stopped me. He spoke in a dull tone,
like everyone else on the bus that day, but his eyes conveyed another meaning.
“I found that special
high-mountain coffee we were talking about last evening. Do you know, it is
grown at such high elevations, the snow caps look like grandpa’s white hair,”
he laughed lightly. Others looked up.
His cryptic message was not
well veiled but esoteric enough to slip past those around us. “Wonderful! Could
we enjoy some at the Gift-giving celebration tomorrow?” I asked.
“That would be perfect. I
could come by in the afternoon, after dinner.” He smiled. We were just two
causal friends talking about the little things of life.
“We will be at ―” I couldn’t
mention my grandparents’ home. “Well, here’s my stop. Why don’t you call me
this evening and I’ll give you the directions?”
Since grandparents no longer
existed for most people in our age group, a mention of mine would have drawn
curiosity. I saw my stop approaching, so I said no more.
I got off the bus near the
huge medical center which housed several physicians’ practices, various
specialists’ offices and labs. As I walked through the reception area toward
the lift, I heard sobbing coming from the Women’s Lounge. It was so strange to
be drawn to the sound of sorrow. A few days before, I wouldn’t have even heard
it; or, if I had, I would have walked on past.
Cautiously, I pushed the
lounge door open, not knowing what I might find. A young woman lay on the
bathroom floor with her legs pulled up to her body. She was rocking back and
forth, while moaning and sobbing like a wounded infant. She was gripping a
partially opened pocket knife in her hand. I rushed in and knelt down.
“What happened to you? What is
wrong?”
She whimpered and opened her
eyes a little. “My Lady?”
“I’ll get a doctor for you.
Just lie still.”
“No!”
“But, you need care.”
“I just came from a doctor’s
office. They can’t do anything.” I saw her slide the knife under her body as
she closed her eyes again.
I sensed her horrible plan and
reached for the knife she had tried to hide under her clothing.
“No, I must have it,” she
gasped and grabbed at the knife as I pulled it from underneath her.
As she struggled to grab the
knife from my hand, the blade popped open and slashed my arm a few inches above
my wrist. I flung the knife out of her reach as she struggled to get up.
“Oh no, My Lady, no!” she
pleaded when she saw my arm. She sank back to the floor.
I quickly wrapped a clean
white cloth from my pocket around the slight wound and then turned back to her.
“What has happened to you? Tell me, so I can get the help you need. Can you
give me your name?”
“My husband and I love each
other, My Lady.” She started to sit up. She breathed more freely and the
gasping stopped. “We have two beautiful children. Then, I got pregnant again so
my doctor said we would have to abort the baby. Then the doctor was sick and my
time went on.” Her whispers bore testimony to the pain within her.
“So, your pregnancy
continued?”
“Yes, there aren’t enough
other doctors in his practice to cover his patients when he’s sick. I was seven
and a half months along when they came for me. They terminated the pre-birth
mass just this morning.” She looked up at me with grief written on her face.
“My Lady . . . I saw her. She was so tiny and pink and breathing. She wasn’t a
mass of anything. She was a baby—my baby.” Her voice faded to a weak whisper.
“It feels like my heart has slipped into a vast abyss. I am so lost and empty.”
I felt so stunned that I
couldn’t find words to sooth her grief, so I sat on the bathroom floor with her
and folded her in my arms. “Where is your baby now?”
“She . . .” the little mother
sobbed in my arms, “she was discarded. They said, since we already had our
allotted two children, the third birth mass was unnecessary. They . . .” her
words drifted off to a whisper, “just threw her away.”
“What’s the problem, Gracie?”
A nurse startled us as she barged into the lounge unexpectedly.
“There’s no problem,” the new
mother whispered with fear in her voice.
“You know what Doctor told
you. If you can’t pull yourself together, you will have to be hospitalized and
that will put a point in your chart,” the nurse said.
Gracie looked at me in terror
and tried not to look at the pocket knife I had picked up and still held in my
hand with the bandaged arm. She glanced quickly away. “No, I’ll be fine. I was
just a little weak and this lady spoke to me.”
“We’ve called your husband.
He’s waiting for you in the hall. Are you coming?”
“Yes, yes of course. Stephen
is here? Good,” she smiled weakly and got up.
“Gracie, stop by the Main
Library after the Holidays. We could have some coffee or something,” I said as
she started to walk away.
She turned and looked at me
with amazement in her tired eyes. “You would have coffee with me?”
“I want to very much,” I gave
her a little side hug for reassurance. “My name is Christiana.”
“I know who you are, My Lady.”
She smiled and then was gone.
When I got into the hallway, I
saw Gracie disappear out the door with a young man. He had his arm around her
as though he were both protecting her and guiding her unsteady feet. I stood
there and watched them until they were out of sight. Grief was another emotion
I was learning. And, sorrow often comes as its opposite, the joy of life.
Little did I realize this was only the beginning of the horror stories I would
encounter.
CHAPTER THIRTY
An Invitation and a Discovery
10:00 a.m.
I had come
to the medical building to see Jason O’Reilly. I looked at my time piece. The
encounter with Gracie, the tragic woman in the Women’s Lounge, had happened so
fast. I was still stunned when I walked into Jason’s waiting room and looked
around. It was empty and quiet. Even the receptionist was absent from her
station.
“Christy!” Jason walked
through the door from the inner hall and nearly bumped into me. “What are you
doing here?”
His surprise would have put me
off but when he gathered me in his arms, his reassurance made me feel wanted
again. “Well now, that is better,” I smiled.
“Oh yeah,” Jason ran his
fingers across my back. “I’ll phrase it differently this time.” He cleared his
throat with dramatic flair. “I am so happy to see you Christiana. To what do I
owe this visit?” He bowed slightly.
“I have come on the happy
chance you have no plans for Gift-giving dinner, but I’ve just had a horrible
experience.”
“What on earth happened?” It
was then that he saw the wound on my arm and the knife I still clutched in my
hand.
“My arm will be fine. It’s stopped
bleeding. I cleaned it in the bathroom. But Jason, there was a woman.” The
whole incident raced through my mind. “She was so sad. I think she would have
taken her own life with this blade if I hadn’t heard her crying and found her
on the bathroom floor.”
He looked at the cut on my
arm. “The bathroom? Here in this building? Where is she?”
“She had a pregnancy
termination but, Jason it wasn’t a cell mass at all. It was her baby they threw
away.”
“That’s why I don’t have
maternity patients, Christy. It’s the law. Thinning out the population has been
legal, and even required, for a long time. I can’t do it.”
I looked around the room to
make sure we were still alone and cleared my head of the image of Gracie and
her only encounter with her beautiful baby daughter. “We’ve had the Length of
Days policy for a long time, Jason. I’m hoping we can overturn it, including
the section on two for two, two
children for each couple. Maybe it will start a fresh reverence for life for
all people. Let’s talk about something else. I can’t bear the pictures that are
stuck in my mind. I have to think about something happy, something full of
life.”
“I know Christy.” He hugged me
again. “What would you like for a Gifting present?”
“To have a simple life again,
like it was a few days ago. I haven’t told you before about this strange little
man who lives in my building. He turned up again, rumpled and unkempt.”
“You have a lot going on in
that building,” Jason laughed.
“So it’s turning out to be.”
All of the faces of laughing, singing people flooded my mind. My thoughts were
overrun, like an unexpected infestation of vermin, by the foulness that Silas
Drummond had described. “Jason, the man told me what really happens to those
entering the long-sleep. It was too horrible to imagine.”
“What did he say?”
“Their bodies are burned and
their ground bones and ashes are used in things like building construction and
fertilizer. Jason, today I saw that man being forced into a strata-car. He said
that we were all in danger.”
“Did you believe him,
Christy?”
“I don’t know. It all seems so
ghastly, so preposterous. I don’t even want to think about any of that. I want
to think about Gifting Dinner.”
“Tomorrow? Christmas dinner?”
“I’d like you to come for
holiday dinner,” I smiled. “It will be our family Christmas feast. Are you
busy? Can you come?”
“Actually, I have no plans at
all. Usually, I make rounds in the hospital so those who are stuck there on the
holiday have someone to talk to. Right now, I have no patients in the hospital.
What did you have in mind?”
“We will all be at Grand-mère
and Grand-père’s house. I would like for you to come to our family dinner with
me.”
“I get it, you want a ride in
my car,” he laughed mischievously.
“I do not need a ride, Sir.
The transit will be running tomorrow.” I gave his arm a little smack and then
buried my head in his chest. “Don’t make this so hard, Jason.”
He tossed his head back in
fresh enjoyment. “I would love to come to Christmas dinner with you. When can I
pick you up?”
“Grand-mère serves holiday dinner
promptly at twelve noon.”
“Oh . . . I missed that.
Dinner will be at your grandparents’ home, two of the Wise Ones. I’ll have to
confess, I could feel a little intimidated around them.” He teased again.
“Don’t be. Grand-mère already
knew who you were when I mentioned your name, Dr. O’Reilly.”
“She knew me or had heard of
me?” Jason’s chest puffed out a little.
“She knew you. She called you
by your first name.”
“Perhaps she knew my parents
or grandparents,” he wondered out loud. “In that case, I would be honored to
join all of you for Christmas dinner.” He kissed my forehead and lingered
there, close.
“Now, here’s another thing,” I approached the
new idea more carefully. “I had thought I would invite Dahlia too. She could
talk to my grandparents about the spiritual awakening she is experiencing. They
could give her more answers than I could. I know Society doesn’t approve of
socialization between bosses and employees. Would you be uncomfortable if I
invited her?”
“Christy, she would be your
guest, not mine. Besides, joining someone for dinner at another person’s house
is hardly fraternization.”
“Why do you think they
initiated the non-mingling law in the first place?” So many laws were beginning
to sound strange now that I was being detoxed and thinking with my heart as
well as my head. “What could be the harm in enjoying someone’s company?”
“Maybe enjoyment of anything
was considered taboo. My parents had told me that marital relationships and
loyalty to one’s spouse had totally broken down in the past, threatening the
emotional safety of nearly all of the country’s children. Keeping people apart
was a way of making sure that new alliances were not begun with people outside
the family unit.”
The image of Gracie and her
supportive husband flashed before my eyes with the agonizing pain and desperate
emptiness over the loss of her baby. I shuddered and wanted to crawl closer
into Jason’s arms.
He gave me a reassuring hug
that let me know he was there. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yes, of course. I just want to
have a beautiful Christmas. I need only lovely thoughts right now.”
“Okay, a wonderful Christmas
has been ordered for you and if you want to invite Dahlia, that would be fine
with me too.”
“Do you think she would come?”
“She came in for a few minutes
today. Let’s go ask her.”
I looked around the room again
and added, “Wait Jason, I want to show you something first.” I pulled the book
from under my cloak. I was trembling with excitement and fear. “It’s all right
here.”
Jason pushed the book away,
pulled my cloak over it and said nothing. He checked the door to the inner
hallway and led me quickly through the complex and back to his private office.
Then he turned around and closed the door carefully so as not to make a sound.
“We have to be careful with any book in our possession, Christy.” He threw his
arms around me and drew me close. “Okay, what did you find?”
I placed the book on his desk
and it fell open to the page I had marked. I turned the book around for him to
read. “Jason, the law regarding our Length of Days can be changed.” My voice
shook and cracked as I forced out the words in an excited whisper. “A
referendum can be scheduled.”
“But Christy, how long would
that take?” Jason sighed.
I felt my hope plummet again.
“I cannot think about that now. The referendum will be in time. It has to be.”
Jason looked toward the door.
There was no sound, no movement. Then he began to quietly read. “A referendum
in our government is usually in the form of a direct vote which is initiated by
the legislature, the government itself. There is a second type of referendum,
initiated by the citizens. The second type is an initiative, ballot measure,
or proposition. This last form of
vote is originated by the citizens as a petition. A binding referendum requires only a simple majority of the voters
for it to carry. With enough signatures, the measure is brought to a vote by a
citizens’ referendum. If passed, it
is binding.”
“Don’t you see, Jason?” I
begged. “If we can get a majority of the citizens, right here in Capitol City,
to sign the petition, perhaps the government will see the need to change the
policy for the entire land.” I held my breath as I waited for him to answer. He
had to agree with me.
“Christy, I think you may have
found the solution,” he whispered. Then he paused. “There is a small hitch.
There is a cover letter that must accompany the petition. If that official
document is not with the petition, it won’t be valid.”
“An official cover letter?
Where would we get that?”
“It says that one can be
secured from the Office of Government Regulation.”
“They won’t be open until next
Monday, due to the holidays.” Again, my emotions plummeted. “There is so little
time.”
“Maybe we can intrude on a
Constitutional Court judge this evening or even tomorrow. You’re a Legacy
Citizen. They will have to take your call.”
I smiled. “I find it
interesting how you can distance yourself from your own legacy, Jason. You are
one of us.”
“I know, I know,” He admitted.
“We can ask the judge together. Now . . . the next step is the petition. We
have to find out how we can get a petition signed by a majority of the voting
citizens without raising suspicion from the Blue Guard. I know they would stop
us,” Jason said.
“There will be a way. I know
there will.” It was done. “Now, Jason, may I see Dahlia?”
Jason took my hand and led me
down the hall to a supply room and small pharmacy. Dahlia, a dark beauty, had her
back to us when we entered.
“Dahlia?” Jason’s voice was
full of disappointment and surprise. “What are you doing?”
Dahlia was stuffing paper
packets of the tiny white pills into her pockets. She turned, startled, when
she heard her name.
“Dr. O’Reilly!” Dahlia jumped
and staggered. Jason eased her onto a chair in the corner.
“Dahlia,” I whispered and
knelt down in front of her, “you are the one who has been giving the detox
pills to the people in town, aren’t you?”
“But, you reported the missing
pills to me in the first place,” Jason seemed confused and hurt.
“Since we finally had a
patient who needed them, I thought it would soon be obvious that some were
missing. I was afraid you would call for an audit of the pharmacy.” Dahlia
didn’t say more. She merely nodded in admission. She swallowed hard then spoke
with fear in her voice. “Yes, Christiana, I have started to pass them out too. I
couldn’t keep feelings of love and other emotions from my friends. Even if I
would get caught, the gift of life was too precious to withhold.”
“Dahlia, I understand.” Not
completely out of Jason’s hearing, I whispered in Dahlia’s ear, “The music
stops when you don’t have the pills, doesn’t it?”
“Christiana, you know? You
have heard the music already?” She wiped her eyes on the corner of her cotton
office jacket.
“Yes, Dahlia, I’ve heard it. I
wouldn’t give it up for anything either.” I gave her a hug. “Now, for the
reason I came to talk to you. I’ve just invited Dr. O’Reilly to share Christmas
dinner with me and my family. I want you to come too.”
“Oh, My Lady . . . I am not
worthy,” she whispered.
“None of us are, Dahlia. I
have contributed nothing to earn my place in society. I was born into it. I did
not earn it. Please say you’ll come.”
“Yes,” her voice was faint,
and I could sense apprehension beneath the surface of her words. She looked at
Jason.
Then I realized that Jason
held the key to Dahlia’s future at that point. I wondered what her fate would
be in his hands. I was learning that he was a fair man, a man of integrity, but
he also expected the same in return.
He took the pills from her
pockets and placed them back in the cabinet. “We’ll find another way to detox
the people, Dahlia. It will be necessary to do it a little at a time in order
to make sure they have no adverse effects.” He helped her to her feet. “The
chemical additives in our water supply have made illegal drug use a thing of
the past. Drawing the police or Blue Guard into this would only raise alarm. No
one else needs to know about this. We have to keep our circle small, but I will
have to take the key to the pharmacy from you.”
Dahlia handed it over with
relief.
“For now, why don’t you go on
home and enjoy the rest of the day. Tomorrow, I’m going to pick up Christiana
about fifteen ‘til twelve. If you can be ready then, we’ll all go together.”
“Dr. O’Reilly,” she sobbed,
“how can I thank you?”
“By being the loving, caring
person that you are,” Jason said, “and the best healthcare professional I know.
No one has been hurt. The pills weren’t narcotics. They were neutralizing
agents. The patients who became suicidal had abused the tablets you passed on
to them. They detoxed too fast. Taken properly, they would have been fine.” He
took a tissue from the box on the table and smiled. He dabbed at her eyes and
added, “You will have to blow your own nose.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Stoner Waited
Outside the
Health Center, Ward Stoner waited in his car for his target to emerge. Her ID
tag had told him she was there. He crouched in his vehicle like a thief,
waiting to catch his next victim in a weakened state. He had always been able
to dominate a situation, to use his mind and the weight of his office, to force
his will on others. He could have had any of his Blue Guardsmen follow a young
woman around town. But, he knew in his gut that this case was different.
A transit car streamed by
overhead and he thought again about the ghost who had brought him into the hazy
vapor of mystery in which he found himself. It was either one of the biggest
cases of his career or someone was making a colossal fool out of him. It had better not be the latter. He
tried to look at both sides of the paradox he called his life.
He inspected the old-fashioned
timepiece he wore on his wrist. It had been his great-grandfather’s, and for
some reason he enjoyed wearing it. It had a tiny knob on the side of the case
that he faithfully wound each night when he took it off. There was no one who
would have dared to call him sentimental, any more than they would have called
him Inspector Tombstone to his face. Besides, sentimentalism had lost all of it
meaning.
Sentiment required emotions
and most people had none. But, the watch brought a strange sense of continuity,
a feeling of family. The hands on the face marched slowly on into the day. He looked again at the doors leading into the
medical office building.
He wanted to leave but the
whole thing mesmerized him. As he pressed on, in an effort to find answers to
the puzzle he had started calling the Princess Case, he felt a strong force
pushing back the more he pursued. He had to admit that the challenge made him
angry. But, in the greater game he found himself in, he had finally met his
match, an equal force to push against. Or was it equal? Still, the watcher
watched.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Many Had No Joy
10:45 a.m.
As I
gathered up my things to leave Jason’s office, he wrapped me in his arms. “I’ll
meet you at the Demitasse in an hour? We could have some lunch.”
He gently touched my back, a gallant gesture of ushering someone along.
“Lunch would be fine,” I
agreed.
I soon walked back out into
the wintery day and across the street to the shops I enjoyed so much. The
library book was tucked neatly in the fold of my cloak.
The little shopping village
was like something out of a Dickens novel, even if most people didn’t know who
Dickens was. I loved the little cluster of fancy shops and felt at home there.
Since I had an hour before I
would meet Jason, I decided to spend my time shopping, something I rarely did.
I passed the coffee shop and drifted into the boutique a few doors down. I
hadn’t bought new clothes in a long time. Clothes never seemed important
before. I wandered over to the sale rack and shuffled through the hangers.
Legacy Citizens have no need to shop from the reduced section since our
personal fortunes and our annual stipend, allow us to live very comfortably,
but I enjoyed saving money.
“Good morning My Lady,” the
sales clerk smiled lightly but her eyes were dull and unresponsive.
“Good morning,” I replied then
realized the woman was a classmate from secondary school. “Valley? Is that you?
I haven’t seen you in several years.”
“Yes, Ma’am, it’s been a long
time. I didn’t think you would remember me.” Her eyes were looking away but
there seemed to be a spark, a new measure of pleasure on her face.
“Of course I remember you. We
managed to survive Mr. Funderman’s advanced mathematics class together.” I
walked through life respected but alone when classmates no longer acknowledged
my existence.
“Thank you for remembering,”
she added. “Is there anything I can help you with? We have a nice selection of
holiday green caftogs over here. That color would look beautiful on you with
your coloring.”
Caftogs were long garments
that took their design from a combination of the caftan and toga styles. They
had a top with full caftan sleeves, under a wound skirt that then came around
and draped up and over the shoulder. The display of fine silk garments, woven
with threads that prevented the usual wrinkling, enticed me.
“Yes, Valley, they are
beautiful.” I ran my fingers over the delicate fabric and down the sleeve to
the price tag. It was expensive but certainly not out of my budget. Ordinarily,
I would not have considered such an extravagance. I was perfectly satisfied
with more modestly priced garments but then I saw Valley’s face and understood.
She must have worked on commission and a sale of that magnitude, the day before
Gift-giving Day, could have made her family’s holiday more joyous.
“It is very lovely.”
Valley didn’t pressure me as
it wasn’t appropriate to push a sale on a Legacy Citizen.
“I’ll take it,” I smiled and
took the garment without trying it on. “I’ll wear it to my grandparents’
Gifting Day party.” It was bound to fit. The government established a uniform
sizing system for all clothing many years ago. If you wore a size six, every
six fit exactly the same way.
I casually slipped the library
book into my clothing package and started to leave. To continue the comfortable
contact I had with Valley, I asked, “Do you have plans for the holidays?” I
waited for a response from my old friend.
“Plans?” she questioned with
an emotionless expression except for an artificial, painted on pleasantness.
“You know . . . are you going
to be with your parents for holiday dinner?”
“We always had gotten together
but . . .” She paused as if she were searching her memory for a happy holiday
with her family. “It’s been so long since my grandmother was alive. She made
the best date pudding.”
“I always found the term, date
pudding, a strange name for a cake.” I hoped to get a real smile out of Valley,
a brief reprieve from her dull life.
“What?” Valley blinked and
stared. She was no longer with me but had drifted off to a gray existence among
the colorless memories of her life.
I took my shopping bag with
the book and package tucked inside and wished Valley a joyous Gift-giving Day.
Outside, I saw the town clock and knew I was nearing my time with Jason and I
smiled. A Blue Shirted Inspector looked at me sharply so I quickly wiped the
smile from my face. He darted into the bank on the other side of the boutique
and was quickly gone. I thought he looked familiar but dismissed him from my
mind and smiled again. I had discovered that my face felt more relaxed when I
smiled. And, the annoying pain between my eyes, I used to frequently
experience, vanished when the corners of my mouth tuned up. Wow! Life was vibrant and new. But, when would the
happiness stop? If I couldn’t end the Length of Days terrible policy, my joy,
like Valley’s, might be gone forever.
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1st in a trilogy.
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