Chapter 2.
Every morning begins in the same way. A boiling hot shower followed by a freezing
cold one to close up your pink pores.
Apply the skin cream that makes its appearance more porcelain and pure. It looks like acrylic paint as it is squeezes
through the nozzle on the bottle, thick and opaque. But it is necessary if you want to blend in.
When it is almost dry, powder the body with pearlescent particles and a big
fluffy brush. Let it all dry.
Pull on the same nondescript clothing that everyone
in Community wears: suits for those in Office Based Employment; denim and corduroy for the Manual Based
Employment; scrubs for Science Based Employment; old fashioned uniforms for the
different Educations (blood red for Infant Education, emerald green for Lower
Juvenile, navy blue for Upper Juvenile and battleship grey for those in
Transitional Training); jersey trousers, skirts and tops for Recreational wear;
formal wear for Formal Situations. It
makes us equal. Community likes
equality.
Once you are finished dressing it is time to tackle
your hair, face and eyes. You may wear a
wig, dye it so your birth colour is hidden or enhanced, but it must be kept
neat and away from the face and eyes.
The face may be covered in thick or light make up depending on the
necessity of the wearer. Remember your
Category’s needs. Now, time for the
eyes. The eyes are the windows to the
soul. Your eyes may give you away. Some use contact lenses; the cheap,
disposable option. Some save their Coins
for permanent surgery. Always remember
to check your eyes before you leave your Dwelling. For it is the eyes that can
make, or break you.
When you leave your Dwelling, make sure you keep
your distance from those in other Categories.
Try and wear a hat to cover your eyes and face, without overstepping the
boundaries. When boarding the Metro,
don’t give other passengers eye contact.
If you do, look away quickly so you don’t rouse suspicion. Be anonymous.
Animosity is equality.
Be the chameleon during the day. Copy their moves, nuances; don’t use your
natural accent and dialect. Stay
faceless and blend in. Only the
Superiors know your Category. Follow
your instructions, play by the rules, they keep you safe from others. Rules are equal.
It is only in the
evenings, in your Dwellings or Common Areas that you can be yourself. Free from Community’s chains and
restraints. Go on, take off your wig and
remove those lenses; speak how you wish to speak! Don’t worry, they don’t record your voice,
the days of ‘CCTV’ and ‘bugging’ were abolished a century ago, and Panel
Communications are only mildly monitored.
You are safe in your Dwelling; with those from your Category; with your
kin. But remember, when you are in
Community you need to be anonymous. Or
you will become a Negative.
Every day seems to have this same routine. I wake up; go through the same Preparations
as anyone else would, no matter what Category they are. I attend my classes at my Upper Juvenile
Education Institution. I get good
grades, with high marks in Linguistics and Creativity. I enjoy reading books, especially the ones
that are in the Lockdown area of the City’s Resources Facility, old books by
writers of different creeds and heritages, brimming with unusual ideas and
imagery. I enjoy socialising with my
peers, both Category As, who I see at both Education and in our Common Areas in
the evenings or weekends; and some Category Bs who are less observant of our
appearances.
Education and Employment are mixed. They don’t openly segregate us, but all Category As know our place. We can befriend a Category B, but never marry
one or bring them into our Dwelling. To
socialise outside of Education we always prompt a trip to an integrated area
like a Shopping Complex. Category Bs may
never realise that their classmate, colleague, or even friend, is a Category
A. As far as Community is concerned,
most Category Bs believe that Category As live in ghettos in the Inner City
Slums, or out on farms in the Produce Zones.
It’s not true. We are everywhere,
but we are hidden. And that is for our safety.
I don’t mind the routine. I even appreciate it. I like knowing that by one simple action I am
safe and my family is safe.
Well, we were, till a
few weeks ago.
You never know when something significant may happen
in your life until it is too late. My
family was very content living in the quiet suburbs of our City, Ruskin. We lived in a zone that had good Education
Institutions and high prospects in Employment.
We were happy. My twin sister and
I were working hard in our Upper Juvenile Institution for Education; and our
younger brother was in his final year at Lower Juvenile Institution for
Education. My Father had recently earned
a small promotion in his Pharmaceutical Employment and my Mother held
Employment in a Hair Design concession in the local Shopping Complex. We blended well. We were happy.
Now, I have never exactly been the most outgoing
person on Earth. To be outgoing is a bad
trait for any Category A to possess, but my twin, Eloise, is even more
introverted. She is obsessed with
animals and Agricultural Studies. She
always scores high in Applied and Theoretical Science. She is, in many ways, my opposite. She is right handed; I am left. She’s tall and skinny; I am not. She is excellent in Numerics and Sciences; I’m
more Linguistics minded. But I’d be lost
without her.
I wish I could say the same about our younger
brother, Edison. He is a livewire. He takes risks, silly risks. His hair is now permanently shaved off since
an incident two summers ago. He refused to
let our Mother dye it dark for his return to Education. If she hadn’t have done it, that night, as
he’d slept, we may have run the risk of becoming ‘Relocated Indefinitely’ or
worse, be Recategorised as ‘Negative’.
Blatant disregard for the rules brings harsh penalties.
Edison seems to be growing out of his
rebelliousness. Slowly. I do worry about his Education at this rate,
as he isn’t a genius, yet he does show Exercise Aptitude. I worry about his ability to blend in at
Upper Juvenile Education level.
You’d now think it was Edison that caused our
‘situation’. Wrong. It was Eloise.
You see in Education Institutions siblings within
the same year group are always separated, especially twins. Especially Category A twins. So I barely saw her during Education. This was bad, because without me, she became
even more reticent. She became a mouse.
This was her downfall, what got her noticed.
There was a particularly unpleasant girl in her
Numerics class, a very competitive Category B called Suzie-Anne. She was brazen, sociable and always had
something to say about other people. She
was popular, involved with the Education Committees and was, in the eyes of the
Instructors, perfect. Yet she wasn’t
perfect. Not in my eyes, not in the eyes
of my twin. She was a bully, a poison.
It began after the Mid-Summer break. We had our New Semester Assessments of
Progress, which were fairly important in ensuring you had enough marks to pass
the scholastic year (and therefore not attend Remedial Summer Education) and as
usual I struggled to gain my pass in Numerics.
Eloise, however, managed to achieve 97.5% in her Assessment. This was the highest score ever achieved in
our Education Institution. She was
thrilled with her score and her Instructors gave her a lot of praise and
attention, which in my view, was duly deserved.
The second highest score was 97%. It was the second highest score that my
Education Institution had achieved. The
second highest score belonged to Suzie-Anne.
To say that she was angry would be the
understatement of the century. She had
never been beaten in an Assessment of Progress in Numerics before. She had always got the highest score. So she
retaliated, the only way she knew how: by using her skills of popularity.
It started small.
A snigger as Eloise walked past in the corridor; a trip-up as she walked
past; a shoulder bump when passing. But
Eloise was far too introverted and quiet to report it. She just carried on studying, working hard.
Eloise beat Suzie-Anne a second time two weeks later
in an Applied and Theoretical Science exam.
It was focussing on Astronomy.
Eloise got 100%. Suzie-Anne only
achieved 89.5%.
Things began to escalate. The rumours began.
First, it rippled through Suzie-Anne’s social
circle. The whispers and glares from
those girls began to leech their way through the class. Then they grew. Snide words as Eloise walked through the
halls and sat in the classes. Eventually
even I began to hear the gossiping and name calling.
“She must be a Cat A. Look at her nose!”
“I bet she’s a Cat A, who is cramming these
subjects, so she can create some new form of viral warfare.”
“That Eloise Cesari definitely is one of those
Category As and she is going to kill us!
Its revenge!”
“I think she is a spy for the Cat As! Maybe she was sent here from one of the Inner
City Slums?”
The gossip was worrying. I knew that Eloise was ignoring it, but if
the Instructors caught wind of it, or even if the rumours got worse, she would
be at risk from a lynch mob. It’s
happened before. Category Bs are scared
of Category As rising again. When they
suspect an ‘Infiltrator’ then they attack in a pack for their own
‘safety’. Occasionally there are reports
on the Panel, of Category As being ripped apart by Category Bs’ bare hands, of
archaic methods of torture being used. Confined violence. It’s barbaric. Community always tries and quash the stories,
sometimes unsuccessfully.
So I broke my silence and spoke out. I told my parents, as I knew my twin
wouldn’t. My Father was furious. He was clenching his fists and went red with
rage. My Mother cried and held Edison to
her chest. She almost boarded Eloise up
in her Sleeproom for safety, but she knew it would only add fuel to the rumour
fire. Mother told us to be careful
whenever we left for Education and spent her days worrying about our safe
keeping.
Father couldn’t contain the anger after someone
decided to throw rotten food over Eloise during lunch the next week. She came home in tears, the pungent smell of
decay hanging around her as she walked from the Metro station. My Father took one look, and smell, of my
sister and went over to the Panel. He
pressed the small Panel Call icon and dialled one number combination: 01204.
A face appeared one minute later. It was one of Superiors in charge of the
lesser known Department of Category A Integration for our City, Ruskin. At this point we, the children, were asked to
leave the room.
That evening we sat around our standard issue table,
drinking from our standard issue mugs.
The air outside was muggy. A late
summer storm was needed to break the humidity.
Birdsong could be heard from the tree in our small, tidy garden. We sat
in silence. My sister had puffy, red
eyes from crying. Edison was unusually
still and quiet. I looked at my parents;
my Mother had worry lines cracking her forehead; my Father was looking around
the room, calculating and processing the news.
We were being Relocated. In 48 hours.
They were sending a Relocation team of Category As
in the next day to pack our small amount of belongings and move them onto
another city. My parents’ Employment was
being ‘transferred’, their Company Superiors aware of the problem. Eloise and I would be continuing final year
of Upper Juvenile Education in another City, in a new class, with new people
who didn’t spread rumours, albeit accurate ones, about our family.
We were to inform our friends and family that we
were being Relocated because my Father was being advanced to Department Manager
in his Employment, a “well deserved post,” we were to say.
It was all a lie, but the Superiors always want what
is best for Community, even if it means keeping a family of Category As
safe. For this, I should be
thankful. But I am scared of what this
new City brings. I am scared that we
will be discovered again.
And next time the Superiors may not be so
helpful. Next time we might be
Recategorised.
This is the first night in my new Sleeproom. It looks the same, with the same standard
design and functionality as my old one.
But it smells different. The
sound outside is different. It feels different.
But most of all, I feel different.
I am a Category A.
I am different.
