Fallen

Chapter Two

~2~

          When I open the door of my small house I call, “Mom! I’m home!”  I look around and examine our two-bedroom house. From pictures in magazines and newspapers, I know that houses long ago looked nothing like those of today.  Out kitchen is filled with two appliances:  a refrigerator and a microwave. Our refrigerator is stocked with exactly enough food to last my mother and I one month.

            The same machines that choose our work assignments choose our dietary routines as well.  What we eat, when we eat, and when we exercise.  What we do and how we act is sent to computers in the head building of each town, where it is recorded.  There, the computers make choices that they think will make everyone happier and healthier.  All of the choices are automatically sent to our Pods, small electronic bands that everyone must wear around their wrists at all times. They send regular notifications about our daily schedules and the foods we are allowed to buy each month.  They also house tiny GPSs that can track exactly where we are 24 hours a day.

            “Good. You’re here. I get very worried when you don’t tell me where you are,” my mom walks over and kisses my forehead.  I know that’s not true because she knows I go to the library every day after school.  This is a daily routine for us:  she pretends to be a caring and thoughtful parent and I apologize and assure her that she has no reason to worry.

            “Of course, Mother,” I say sweetly and stick my bottom lip out slightly for dramatic effect.  “But you have no reason to worry. I am almost sixteen now; I can handle myself.”  Being careful is something everyone learns to do.  Our Pods can detect sounds and you never really know when someone is listening in.

            I once read in a book that there once were people who had lost all of their hearing ability.  They communicated by using something called sign language, in which they used their hands to sign letters, words, and phrases.  In the book, there was a list of many of the signs.  I showed it to my mom, and we both caught on very fast.  We use it during times when we don’t want anyone else to hear us.

            This is one of those times.

            Her eyes look worried and scared and it takes every ounce of strength for me to not run over and hug her, because that would surely make her worse. So, instead, I smile.

            Is everything alright, I sign. What’s wrong?

            “That is exactly why I am worried. You are sixteen and will be getting your job assignment soon; I don’t want to lose my daughter,” my mom says, a single tear slipping out of her amber eyes.  Even though we are having this conversation just for cover-up, I can tell that she means this. Rose, whatever happens, please understand that I love you. Forever and always, she signs, multiple tears streaming down her tan face.

            The urge overpowers me and I run to embrace my mother. I step back so our eyes are level. I want my mom to hear this, to know it is true. With tears now running down my face I manage, “Mom, you will never lose me. No matter how old I am, you will always be my mom and I will always love you with all my heart. Forever and always.” I smile, our amber eyes gazing into each other’s.  Other than our eyes, my mom and I look completely different; she said I got my looks from my father.

            We hug once again and I can smell her lovely aroma.  She is perfect, not only as a mother, but as a person; no wonder my father fell in love with her.