The Societies

Right

Julianne's POV

The war ended the year before I was born, so I lived under the conditions of the new life we all had.

I live on the right side of the wall.
Here we think creatively. Most importantly we create new possibilities. No logical answer is correct.

I have loved my life here. The creative ideas that have flown through my head are endless, but I can't help but think about what is on the other side of that wall.

The Wall. Graffiti and millions of people, mostly elders, who will sit and stare at the wall for hours on end. The wall that separates the right from the left or, as we say, the right from the wrong.

My birthday is coming up. I will be turning 18. The year that you truly decide what society you belong in. In the month that my birthday is in, I will get a chance to see what is on the other side of the wall.

It is quite rare to find someone go to the opposite society, but soon to be 18 year olds will go to the opposite society for the next few weeks until The Choosing. When The Choosing rolls around, they get to choose which society they truly want to be in.

Tomorrow, I go to the entrance of the wall. The gap between the two societies to give loved ones from the opposite sides to have a chance at seeing each other. The only problem is that the huge gate only opens once a month to the public; the one day that the 18 year olds switch sides.

I stare up at the wall, a small gap, just at the right height for me to see through and for someone else to see me. I never look in the gap though. I'm too scared at what I will see. Tomorrow I will see it anyway. I can only hope to find this gap to look through on the other side.

As I walk home, I think about all the things I will see tomorrow. Grandmother told me that her great grandmother lived in a time of almost-peace among everyone. That she had lived in a city called New York, where left and right brained people lived in harmony to make something even greater than we could ever imagine. Right brained people who were talented made something called "music" with their voices and funny looking things that made sounds called "instruments". Left brained people would help them schedule and manage their time so that they could spread their "music" among others.

I wish I could live in a time of music. The only thing close to this "music" that we have today is faint sounds that make a pattern. Nobody else notices it but me, and yet, I still try to recreate the same pattern.

I look around and find that I am already home. The thinking must have made me subconsciously walk quicker and with purpose.

I walk into my room filled with color and light and little trinkets and small machines that I have created throughout my life.

All I can think about is tomorrow, and what will come of it.