“Hey, Echoe. Care to join me on a run?” My best friend, Lark Thomas, asks me. I smile, for I’ve been waiting to escape the bleak wasteland that is my home.
“Of course. Let’s go!” I reply with enthusiasm. I skip out my front door, and jog alongside Lark. There’s silence between us, but not an uncomfortable kind. It’s simply an absence of sound, because we don’t want to utter a word about our secret. It’s so extraordinary we can’t speak of it out in the open, as it is punishable by death.
Our feet find the path to The Artists’ Palette all by themselves. My eyes search the dull town for a sign of happiness, of life, but to no avail. I knew I wouldn’t find any, though I had to try. All that’s left of my once lively, colorful, town is a gray nightmare.
My village used to have bright houses dotting the roads, with yards of emerald green grass, towering trees, and flowers of every shade. Once there were children laughing and playing in the parks. Pets were walked on the streets, and festivals were held in the center of town. That was before the Administration took over.
The once vibrant houses are now drab shelters. Grass and trees are sparse and colorless. Children are at school for ten hours a day, plus two dedicated hours for exercise, one hour before and one after school. When students graduate at age eighteen, they are forced to work. Pets are prohibited, and festivals outlawed.
Nothing dares to stir or make any sort of noise, for fear it might sound “expressive”. The townspeople are all terribly frightened of the Administration. Not that I can blame them. I am scared as well, though nobody would guess. It terrifies us all that at any moment, any person can be executed, and nobody can protest.
You see, four years ago, any use of the right side of the brain was banned. This is the part of you that controls creativity, humor, philosophy, religion, and any kind of art. If a person or object was found with even one of those qualities, it was deemed illegal.
These changes came to pass because it had come to the attention of the Administration that people were spending too much time on self-expression. According to those in power, time should be spent on learning math and science. Our country was falling behind other nations intellectually, as they had begun to invent things that weren’t even on our list of dreams. This scared the Administration. What if they were creating war devices of similar complexity that would make us an easy target?
Immediate action was taken. Language arts, music, and visual arts were completely cut out of our curriculum. Instead of devoting study time to history, we were given a faint outline of our past. Math and science were our focus, and school days were extended.
In the midst of all of this change, the Administration felt that we were also becoming physically unfit as compared to other nations. They mandated two hours of vigorous aerobic activity every day as a requirement of our education, one hour before and after school. It had been discovered that exercise helped create neurons in the brain, thus improving brain activity, and increasing concentration.
Acceleration was seen almost overnight. Students were advancing at a rapid pace, and we would catch up to the other countries in a generation or so. Yet, in the eyes of the Administration, this new strategy wasn’t working quickly enough.
It was concluded that the expression of individuals was the cause of our dismay. Time spent on creative pursuits, such as art, poetry, music, entertainment, and religion was diluting the time we had to study. The Administration could not afford this kind of distraction. As a result, it was decided that upon turning eighteen, we would have the right side of our brain deactivated, allowing us to focus entirely on math and science.
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The Artists' Palette
Fantasy"The earth without art is just 'eh'" Echoe Springs lives in a dystopia where the Administrators (opposers of creativity and art) rule with an iron fist. In an act...
