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His father nodded. ‘His name – if he makes it to the Naming without being released, of course – is to be Gabriel. So I whisper that to him when I feed him every four hours, and during exercise and playtime. If no one can hear me.
‘I call him Gabe, actually,’ he said, and grinned.
‘Gabe.’ Jonas tried it out. A good name, he decided.
Though Jonas had only become a Five the year that they acquired Lily and learned her name, he remembered the excitement, the conversations at home, wondering about her: how she would look, who she would be, how she would fit into their established family unit. He remembered climbing the steps to the stage with his parents, his father by his side that year instead of with the Nurturers, since it was the year that he would be given a newchild of his own.
He remembered his mother taking the newchild, his sister, into her arms, while the document was read to the assembled family units. ‘Newchild Twenty-three,’ the Namer had read. ‘Lily.’
He remembered his father’s look of delight, and that his father had whispered, ‘She’s one of my favourites. I was hoping for her to be the one.’ The crowd had clapped and Jonas had grinned. He liked his sister’s name. Lily, barely awake, had waved her small fist. Then they had stepped down to make room for the next family unit.
‘When I was an Eleven,’ his father said now, ‘as you are, Jonas, I was very impatient, waiting for the Ceremony of Twelve. It’s a long two days. I remember that I enjoyed the Ones, as I always do, but that I didn’t pay much attention to the other ceremonies, except for my sister’s. She became a Nine that year, and got her bicycle. I’d been teaching her to ride mine, even though technically I wasn’t supposed to.’
Jonas laughed. It was one of the few rules that was not taken very seriously and was almost always broken. The children all received their bicycles at Nine; they were not allowed to ride bicycles before then. But almost always, the older brothers and sisters had secretly taught the younger ones. Jonas had been thinking already about teaching Lily.
There was talk about changing the rule and giving the bicycles at an earlier age. A committee was studying the idea. When something went to a committee for study, the people always joked about it. They said that the committee members would become Elders by the time the rule change was made.
Rules were very hard to change. Sometimes, if it was a very important rule – unlike the one governing the age for bicycles – it would have to go, eventually, to The Receiver for a decision. The Receiver was the most important Elder. Jonas had never even seen him, that he knew of; someone in a position of such importance lived and worked alone. But the committee would never bother The Receiver with a question about bicycles; they would simply fret and argue about it themselves for years, until the citizens forgot that it had ever gone to them for study.
His father continued. ‘So I watched and cheered when my sister, Katya, became a Nine and removed her hair ribbons and got her bicycle. Then I didn’t pay much attention to the Tens and Elevens. And finally, at the end of the second day, which seemed to go on forever, it was my turn. It was the Ceremony of Twelve.’
Jonas shivered. He pictured his father, who must have been a shy and quiet boy, for he was a shy and quiet man, seated with his group, waiting to be called to the stage. The Ceremony of Twelve was the last of the Ceremonies. The most important.
‘I remember how proud my parents looked – and my sister, too; even though she wanted to be out riding the bicycle publicly, she stopped fidgeting and was very still and attentive when my turn came.
‘But to be honest, Jonas,’ his father said, ‘for me there was not the element of suspense that there is with your Ceremony. Because I was already fairly certain of what my Assignment was to be.’
Jonas was surprised. There was no way, really, to know in advance. It was a secret selection, made by the leaders of the community, the Committee of Elders, who took the responsibility so seriously that there were never even any jokes made about Assignments.
His mother seemed surprised, too. ‘How could you have known?’ she asked.
His father smiled his gentle smile. ‘Well, it was clear to me – and my parents later confessed that it had been obvious to them, too – what my aptitude was. I had always loved the newchildren more than anything. When my friends in my age group were holding bicycle races, or building toy vehicles or bridges with their construction sets, or—’
‘All the things I do with my friends,’ Jonas pointed out, and his mother nodded in agreement.
‘I always participated, of course, because as children we must experience all of those things. And I studied hard in school, as you do, Jonas. But again and again, during free time, I found myself drawn to the newchildren. I spent almost all of my volunteer hours helping in the Nurturing Centre. Of course the Elders knew that, from their observation.’
Jonas nodded. During the past year he had been aware of the increasing level of observation. In school, at recreation time and during volunteer hours, he had noticed the Elders watching him and the other Elevens. He had seen them taking notes. He knew, too, that the Elders were meeting for long hours with all of the instructors that he and the other Elevens had had during their years of school.
‘So I expected it, and I was pleased, but not at all surprised, when my Assignment was announced as Nurturer,’ Father explained.
‘Did everyone applaud, even though they weren’t surprised?’ Jonas asked.
‘Oh, of course. They were happy for me, that my Assignment was what I wanted most. I felt very fortunate.’ His father smiled.
‘Were any of the Elevens disappointed, your year?’ Jonas asked. Unlike his father, he had no idea what his Assignment would be. But he knew that some would disappoint him. Though he respected his father’s work, Nurturer would not be his wish. And he didn’t envy Labourers at all.
His father thought. ‘No, I don’t think so. Of course the Elders are so careful in their observations and selections.’
‘I think it’s probably the most important job in our community,’ his mother commented.
‘My friend Yoshiko was surprised by her selection as Doctor,’ Father said, ‘but she was thrilled. And let’s see, there was Andrei – I remember that when we were boys he never wanted to do physical things. He spent all the recreation time he could with his construction set, and his volunteer hours were always on building sites. The Elders knew that, of course. Andrei was given the Assignment of Engineer and he was delighted.’
‘Andrei later designed the bridge that crosses the river to the west of town,’ Jonas’s mother said. ‘It wasn’t there when we were children.’
‘There are very rarely disappointments, Jonas. I don’t think you need to worry about that,’ his father reassured him. ‘And if there are, you know there’s an appeal process.’ But they all laughed at that – an appeal went to a committee for study.
‘I worry a little about Asher’s Assignment,’ Jonas confessed. ‘Asher’s such fun. But he doesn’t really have any serious interests. He makes a game out of everything.’
His father chuckled. ‘You know,’ he said, ‘I remember when Asher was a newchild at the Nurturing Centre, before he was named. He never cried. He giggled and laughed at everything. All of us on the staff enjoyed nurturing Asher.’
‘The Elders know Asher,’ his mother said. ‘They’ll find exactly the right Assignment for him. I don’t think you need to worry about him. But, Jonas, let me warn you about something that may not have occurred to you. I know I didn’t think about it until after my Ceremony of Twelve.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Well, it’s the last of the Ceremonies, as you know. After Twelve, age isn’t important. Most of us even lose track of how old we are as time passes, though the information is in the Hall of Open Records, and we could go and look it up if we wanted to. What’s important is the preparation for adult life, and the training you’ll receive in your Assignment.’
‘I know that,’ Jonas said. ‘Everyone knows that.’
‘But it means,’ his mother went on, ‘that you’ll move into a new group. And each of your friends will. You’ll no longer be spending your time with your group of Elevens. After the Ceremony of Twelve, you’ll be with your Assignment group, with those in training. No more volunteer hours. No more recreation hours. So your friends will no longer be as close.’
Jonas shook his head. ‘Asher and I will always be friends,’ he said firmly. ‘And there will still be school.’
‘That’s true,’ his father agreed. ‘But what your mother said is true as well. There will be changes.’
‘Good changes, though,’ his mother pointed out. ‘After my Ceremony of Twelve, I missed my childhood recreation. But when I entered my training for Law and Justice, I found myself with people who shared my interests. I made friends on a new level, friends of all ages.’
‘Did you still play at all, after Twelve?’ Jonas asked.
‘Occasionally,’ his mother replied. ‘But it didn’t seem as important to me.’
‘I did,’ his father said, laughing. ‘I still do. Every day, at the Nurturing Centre, I play bounce-on-the-knee, and peek-a-boo, and hug-the-teddy.’ He reached over and stroked Jonas’s neatly trimmed hair. ‘Fun doesn’t end when you become Twelve.’
Lily appeared, wearing her nightclothes, in the doorway. She gave an impatient sigh. ‘This is certainly a very long private conversation,’ she said. ‘And there are certain people waiting for their comfort object.’
‘Lily,’ her mother said fondly, ‘you’re very close to being an Eight, and when you’re an Eight, your comfort object will be taken away. It will be recycled to the younger children. You should be starting to go off to sleep without it.’
But her father had already gone to the shelf and taken down the stuffed elephant which was kept there. Many of the comfort objects, like Lily’s, were soft, stuffed, imaginary creatures. Jonas’s had been called a bear.
‘Here you are, Lily-billy,’ he said. ‘I’ll come and help you remove your hair ribbons.’
Jonas and his mother rolled their eyes, yet they watched affectionately as Lily and her father headed to her sleeping-room with the stuffed elephant that had been given to her as her comfort object when she was born. His mother moved to her big desk and opened her briefcase; her work never seemed to end, even when she was at home in the evening. Jonas went to his own desk and began to sort through his school papers for the evening’s assignment. But his mind was still on December and the coming Ceremony.
Though he had been reassured by the talk with his parents, he hadn’t the slightest idea what Assignment the Elders would be selecting for his future, or how he might feel about it when the day came.
Chapter Three
‘Oh, look!’ Lily squealed in delight. ‘Isn’t he cute? Look how tiny he is! And he has funny eyes like yours, Jonas!’
Jonas glared at her. He didn’t like it that she had mentioned his eyes. He waited for his father to chastise Lily. But Father was busy unstrapping the carrying basket from the back of his bicycle. Jonas walked over to look.
It was the first thing Jonas noticed as he looked at the newchild peering up curiously from the basket. The pale eyes.
Almost every citizen in the community had dark eyes. His parents did, and Lily did, and so did all of his group members and friends. But there were a few exceptions: Jonas himself, and a female Five whom he had noticed had the different, lighter eyes. No one mentioned such things; it was not a rule, but was considered rude to call attention to things that were unsettling or different about individuals. Lily, he decided, would have to learn that soon, or she would be called in for chastisement because of her insensitive chatter.
Father put his bike into its port. Then he picked up the basket and carried it into the house. Lily followed behind, but she glanced back over her shoulder at Jonas and teased, ‘Maybe he had the same Birthmother as you.’
Jonas shrugged. He followed them inside. But he had been startled by the newchild’s eyes. Mirrors were rare in the community; they weren’t forbidden, but there was no real need of them, and Jonas had simply never bothered to look at himself very often even when he found himself in a location where a mirror existed. Now, seeing the newchild and its expression, he was reminded that the light eyes were not only a rarity but gave the one who had them a certain look – what was it? Depth, he decided; as if one were looking into the clear water of the river, down to the bottom, where things might lurk which hadn’t been discovered yet. He felt self-conscious, realising that he, too, had that look.
He went to his desk, pretending not to be interested in the newchild. On the other side of the room, Mother and Lily were bending over to watch as Father unwrapped its blanket.
‘What’s his comfort object called?’ Lily asked, picking up the stuffed creature which had been placed beside the newchild in his basket.
Father glanced at it. ‘Hippo,’ he said.
Lily giggled at the strange word. ‘Hippo,’ she repeated, and put the comfort object down again. She peered at the unwrapped newchild, who waved his arms.
‘I think newchildren are so cute,’ Lily sighed. ‘I hope I get assigned to be a Birthmother.’
‘Lily!’ Mother spoke very sharply. ‘Don’t say that. There’s very little honour in that Assignment.’
‘But I was talking to Natasha. You know the Ten who lives around the corner? She does some of her volunteer hours at the Birthing Centre. And she told me that the Birthmothers get wonderful food, and they have very gentle exercise periods, and most of the time they just play games and amuse themselves while they’re waiting. I think I’d like that,’ Lily said petulantly.
‘Three years,’ Mother told her firmly. ‘Three births, and that’s all. After that they are Labourers for the rest of their adult lives, until the day that they enter the House of the Old. Is that what you want, Lily? Three lazy years, and then hard physical labour until you are old?’
‘Well, no, I guess not,’ Lily acknowledged reluctantly.
Father turned the newchild on to his tummy in the basket. He sat beside it and rubbed its small back with a rhythmic motion. ‘Anyway, Lily-billy,’ he said affectionately, ‘the Birthmothers never even get to see newchildren. If you enjoy the little ones so much, you should hope for an Assignment as Nurturer.’
‘When you’re an Eight and start your volunteer hours, you can try some at the Nurturing Centre,’ Mother suggested.
‘Yes, I think I will,’ Lily said. She knelt beside the basket. ‘What did you say his name is? Gabriel? Hello, Gabriel,’ she said in a singsong voice. Then she giggled. ‘Ooops,’ she whispered. ‘I think he’s asleep. I guess I’d better be quiet.’
Jonas turned to the school assignments on his desk. Some chance of that, he thought. Lily was never quiet. Probably she should hope for an Assignment as Speaker, so that she could sit in the office with the microphone all day, making announcements. He laughed silently to himself, picturing his sister droning on in the self-important voice that all the Speakers seemed to develop, saying things like: ATTENTION. THIS IS A REMINDER TO FEMALES UNDER NINE THAT HAIR RIBBONS ARE TO BE NEATLY TIED AT ALL TIMES.
He turned towards Lily and noticed to his satisfaction that her ribbons were, as usual, undone and dangling. There would be an announcement like that quite soon, he felt certain, and it would be directed mainly at Lily, though her name, of course, would not be mentioned. Everyone would know.
Everyone had known, he remembered with humiliation, that the announcement: ATTENTION. THIS IS A REMINDER TO MALE ELEVENS THAT OBJECTS ARE NOT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE RECREATION AREA AND THAT SNACKS ARE TO BE EATEN, NOT HOARDED had been specifically directed at him, the day last month that he had taken an apple home. No one had mentioned it, not even his parents, because the public announcement had been sufficient to produce the appropriate remorse. He had, of course, disposed of the apple and made his apology to the Recreation Director the next morning, before school.
Jonas thought again about that incident. He was still bewildered by it. Not by the announcement or the necessary apology; those were standard procedures, and he had deserved them – but by the incident itself. He probably should have brought up his feeling of bewilderment that very evening when the family unit had shared their feelings of the day. But he had not been able to sort out and put words to the source of his confusion, so he had let it pass.
It had happened during the recreation period, when he had been playing with Asher. Jonas had casually picked up an apple from the basket where the snacks were kept, and had thrown it to his friend. Asher had thrown it back, and they had begun a simple game of catch.
There had been nothing special about it; it was an activity that he had performed countless times: throw, catch; throw, catch. It was effortless for Jonas, and even boring, though Asher enjoyed it, and playing catch was a required activity for Asher because it would improve his hand-eye coordination, which was not up to standard.
But suddenly Jonas had noticed, following the path of the apple through the air with his eyes, that the piece of fruit had – well, this was the part that he couldn’t adequately understand – the apple had changed. Just for an instant. It had changed in mid-air, he remembered. Then it was in his hand, and he looked at it carefully, but it was the same apple. Unchanged. The same size and shape: a perfect sphere. The same nondescript shade, about the same shade as his own tunic.
There was absolutely nothing remarkable about that apple. He had tossed it back and forth between his hands a few times, then thrown it again to Asher. And again – in the air, for an instant only – it had changed.
It had happened four times. Jonas had blinked, looked around, and then tested his eyesight, squinting at the small print on the identification badge attached to his tunic. He read his name quite clearly. He could also clearly see Asher at the other end of the throwing area. And he had had no problem catching the apple.
Jonas had been completely mystified.
‘Ash?’ he had called. ‘Does anything seem strange to you? About the apple?’
‘Yes,’ Asher called back, laughing. ‘It jumps out of my hand on to the ground!’ Asher had just dropped it once again.
So Jonas laughed too, and with his laughter tried to ignore his uneasy conviction that something had happened. But he had taken the apple home, against the recreation area rules. That evening, before his parents and Lily arrived at the dwelling, he had held it in his hands and looked at it carefully. It was slightly bruised now, because Asher had dropped it several times. But there was nothing at all unusual about the apple.
He had held a magnifying glass to it. He had tossed it several times across the room, watching, and then rolled it around and around on his desktop, waiting for the thing to happen again.
But it hadn’t. The only thing that happened was the announcement later that evening over the speaker, the announcement that had singled him out without using his name, that had caused both of his parents to glance meaningfully at his desk where the apple still lay.
Now, sitting at his desk, staring at his schoolwork as his family hovered over the newchild in its basket, he shook his head, trying to forget the odd incident. He forced himself to arrange his papers and try to study a little before the evening meal. The newchild, Gabriel, stirred and whimpered, and Father spoke softly to Lily, explaining the feeding procedure as he opened the container that held the formula and equipment.
The evening proceeded as all evenings did in the family unit, in the dwelling, in the community: quiet, reflective, a time for renewal and preparation for the day to come. It was different only in the addition to it of the newchild with his pale, solemn, knowing eyes.
Chapter Four
Jonas rode at a leisurely pace, glancing at the bikeports beside the buildings to see if he could spot Asher’s. He didn’t often do his volunteer hours with his friend because Asher frequently fooled around and made serious work a little difficult. But now, with Twelve coming so soon and the volunteer hours ending, it didn’t seem to matter.
The freedom to choose where to spend those hours had always seemed a wonderful luxury to Jonas; other hours of the day were so carefully regulated.
He remembered when he had become an Eight, as Lily would do shortly, and had been faced with that freedom of choice. The Eights always set out on their first volunteer hour a little nervously, giggling and staying in groups of friends. They almost invariably did their hours on Recreation Duty first, helping with the younger ones in a place where they still felt comfortable. But with guidance, as they developed self-confidence and maturity, they moved on to other jobs, gravitating towards those that would suit their own interests and skills.
A male Eleven named Benjamin had done his entire nearly-Four years in the Rehabilitation Centre, working with citizens who had been injured. It was rumoured that he was as skilled now as the Rehabilitation Directors themselves, and that he had even developed some machines and methods to hasten rehabilitation. There was no doubt that Benjamin would receive his Assignment to that field and would probably be permitted to bypass most of the training.
Jonas was impressed by the things Benjamin had achieved. He knew him, of course, since they had always been groupmates, but they had never talked about the boy’s accomplishments because such a conversation would have been awkward for Benjamin. There was never any comfortable way to mention or discuss one’s successes without breaking the rule against bragging, even if one didn’t mean to. It was a minor rule, rather like rudeness, punishable only by gentle chastisement. But still. Better to steer clear of an occasion governed by a rule which would be so easy to break.
The area of dwellings behind him, Jonas rode past the community structures, hoping to spot Asher’s bicycle parked beside one of the small factories or office buildings. He passed the Childcare Centre where Lily stayed after school, and the play areas surrounding it. He rode through the Central Plaza and the large Auditorium where public meetings were held.
Jonas slowed and looked at the nametags on the bicycles lined up outside the Nurturing Centre. Then he checked those outside Food Distribution; it was always fun to help with the deliveries, and he hoped he would find his friend there so that they could go together on the daily rounds, carrying the cartons of supplies into the dwellings of the community. But he finally found Asher’s bicycle – leaning, as usual, instead of upright in its port, as it should have been – at the House of the Old.
There was only one other child’s bicycle there, that of a female Eleven named Fiona. Jonas liked Fiona. She was a good student, quiet and polite, but she had a sense of fun as well, and it didn’t surprise him that she was working with Asher today. He parked his bicycle neatly in the port beside theirs and entered the building.
‘Hello, Jonas,’ the attendant at the front desk said. She handed him the sign-up sheet and stamped her own official seal beside his signature. All of his volunteer hours would be carefully tabulated at the Hall of Open Records. Once, long ago, it was whispered among the children, an Eleven had arrived at the Ceremony of Twelve only to hear a public announcement that he had not completed the required number of volunteer hours and would not, therefore, be given his Assignment. He had been permitted an additional month in which to complete the hours, and then given his Assignment privately, with no applause, no celebration: a disgrace that had clouded his entire future.