A Song of Silence

Chapter 14

Astrid

We recite the pledge in our history class together once again. We are meant to have it memorized, speak it from the heart. We are meant to be the citizens that they want, and we must show our loyalty to them. This is one of the many ways that we do.

"I pledge allegiance to the Imperium, who guard us and keep us. I pledge to follow them and their path of justice, peace, and order to the end of my life."

Short and simple and easy. We have been saying it since I was eleven years old, old enough to understand our dark past and how important the Imperium is to all of us, how we must dedicate ourselves to them, like our parents who came before us, like our grandparents, who came before them.

There is no one name that began the Imperium. Instead, it was a group, a society, a community who could understand our struggle, yet still remain clear-eyed and clear-minded enough to see the solution that remained before us.

Sometimes I wonder what kind of person I would have been had I been born before the beginning of the New Era. Sometimes I question whether it was right of them to control us, but I must suppress these thoughts, because of course, it was. If I were not to be controlled, – if there even is such a person who exists – I would think that I would still praise them and show them that their work was life-changing. A long time ago, centuries ago, people like us were fighting, warring between one another, for all the things they didn't have. It's hard for me to imagine a place like that, where the more important thing, if ever given the choice, was your own life. Now, we believe in things bigger than ourselves, because what are we, really, if not a piece of a puzzle, waiting to be connected to show some greater image than depicted on each fragment?

History is my favorite class, because we can learn from the things that we shouldn't have done in the past. It's knowledge that we can apply in our everyday lives to become better people, not just something we learn because we have to and then ignore as soon as we leave the classroom. The thing about history is that in the moment, we're only picking the best available option with the information that we have. Sometimes it'll end up for the best, but sometimes it'll end up for the worse. You can't really tell which it'll be until you take a full step back and actually take a good look at it. We can claim that we ourselves would have done better than our ancestors, but that's only because we can see the full story, the edges and frame of the picture, which are cut off when you are there. But it is vital if we want to improve, because even if we're picking the best choice of what we have, we need to be informed of the consequences of all of them, and we can't do that unless we look back and see where we went wrong. That's why it's so important.

Mr. Curtix, with his shaggy black hair and bright emerald green eyes, is also one of my favorite teachers, mainly because he always pays special attention to my love for history and praises my work. I'm not sure whether the teachers at our own school will be part of the new program and whether we might be able to help them out, but if they were, I'm now considering that he might be a good mentor. But then again, teaching is not something I could see myself doing, unless the Imperium were to call me to do it.

But today we have a different teacher, one I recognize to be the administrator of the Pouring, the test we take every day. What scares me the most is that I have not the faintest idea of why he would possibly be here. Attendance for teachers is mandatory, save for the Imperium placing them temporarily in other work and the allowance of three sick days given every three years. So basically, none of the teachers are ever absent.

Where is Mr. Curtix? is what I want to ask, but this man frightens me at least a little because of the sheer power he has over me. He could easily tell his fellow officers that I had failed the Pouring, even if I didn't, if I were to get on his bad side. It would be all too easy to cross his path, and if I did, then he could ruin everything, everything for me. So I don't ask. Questioning is not a thing that we are meant to do, and if we do, we could get punished. I can see from the confusion reflected on the rest of my peers' faces that they are barely restraining themselves from asking as well.

"Good morning," the Nameless Tester says stiffly, more as a formality than as a genuine greeting. But after years and years of this, we know the drill.

"Good morning," we chorus, lacking enthusiasm and in a monotone voice, empty of emotion.

The Nameless Tester narrows his eyes, the cold ones so unlike Mr. Curtix's warm and friendly eyes. We have done something unacceptable already, even after only a couple of minutes in the classroom. "Good morning, who?" he prompts, clearly annoyed by this lack of respect, yet trying to act unfazed by our rudeness.

I could not tell you his name, and I doubt that anyone else in the class could. And I'm sure that he's entirely and fully aware of that fact, only he's testing to see how we respond. If any of us were to speak up without the correct answer and inform him of the piece of information that I would guess he already knows, then we'd be punished for disobedience. So I keep my mouth shut.

When no one raises their voice, he glares at us all with disdain and disappointment. "Good morning, sir."

"Good morning, sir," we say at once, and I ensure that there is as much emphasis on the honorific as I can possibly put into the word.

"You will address me as 'sir', and you are not to speak unless you are spoken to," he states calmly, presenting his classroom rules to us. "You will not argue, and you will follow the directions that you are given. Doing so will train you to be an...adequate member of the Imperium, and will show you how to respect your superiors, especially once you are given the position of apprentice to a senior member of the party. Is this understood?"

"Yes, sir." This time, the response is more confident, and it denotes our obedience and agreement – at least, I hope it does. But I still wonder why he is here today, without any warning whatsoever. These wonderings, though, must always stay inside my head, as he has made so perfectly clear. These are questions not to be asked, as we are never supposed to ask on the rare occasion that one of the teachers goes on assignment from the Imperium. Asking questions is asking for trouble. It's drawing the wrong kind of attention to yourself.

"Well, then, if we are all understood, let's begin."