Equals

Chapter 1

Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live in a world, without conflict, without war, total equality and peace? I have, and I do.

                                                        An (Almost) PerfectWorld

           “Azurite, hey wake up!”

           “W-what, what’s going on?”

           “Come on! Today’s the day!”

           “Ugh, Aurelia can’t you just tell me what’s going on?!” Sisters can be so unequal sometimes…

           “Today’s the Choosing.” The moment I hear her say that last word I spring up from my bed and rush downstairs. Aurelia’s already done. Her hair tied back in braids, a loose-fitting blue satin dress, and I must look ridiculous, but again, it’s not like she can say anything about me. “You look equal.”

           “Same to you, is the Choosing on yet?”

           “You know the rules.” That’s right. They can’t start until everybody’s ready and at the auditorium. It would be unfair and unequal to go ahead with the ceremony without someone there. “Well come on hurry up! The whole city’s probably waiting on you. I hear they’ve already done roll call.”

           I hurry and brush out my hair and change into a yellow version of Aurelia’s dress, making us look equal. Once I’m ready we rush to the auditorium and get a good seat. This is most people’s favorite time of year—unless you’re in the ceremony. The Choosing Ceremony decides who will stay in the city, and who will leave. Those older, who can’t look as equal as the rest of us are let go, but I really don’t know what happens to them. Maybe they go to some special city outside of the walls of our city. Children five and under are too cute to be called equal. Nobody is allowed to judge them until they reach their sixth year, and from then on they’re in the ceremony until they turn sixteen, then you’re in the highest year you can be, with all of the...what’s that word…perfect people, and you stay there until you reach a year where your natural equality starts to grow less equal, and you become a Caregiver for incoming zeros. Each year you go into another year of appearance. The older you are, the more …I think the word was, beautiful, you’re seen in society. I’m fourteen, so I’m almost done. Aurelia’s in her thirteenth. You’re judged in front of the entire city each year. If they find you adequate, (only the judges can make you…unequal) then you move on to the next year. If they don’t, you’re let go. So six years are always nervous. They’re so used to being coddled and cradled, they don’t know judgment. I’ve never seen a six year being released before, but like the judges always say “There’s a first for everything!” They make these ceremonies sound like fun, but for most people its life or death. Everybody pays attention to the six years, but everywhere in between until the ceremony of sixteen nobody pays much attention. No six years are let go, so I feel relieved. I don’t know anyone in their sixth year, but you can’t help but pity them when they’re taken away from the city like that. Aurelia’s safe. Eventually they get to the fifteenth year. I should be nervous, but I really don’t care. I’ve made it fourteen years; I’ll make it this year. They call you randomly, (or so they say) but I think they save the ‘let go’s’ for last. I hear them call many people’s names I know. Shea, a girl from my fifth year class, Arlo, from my neighborhood when I was a seven, Eamon, he was in my eighth year class. They call at least fifty other names, and I grow impatient, although I know I can’t. I have to remain equal, until everybody is done their turn. I finally pay attention when I hear one of the judges speak. Judge Maria. Her name is so strange, I think. But I can’t think about things like that. Her name is just as equal as mine. There’s something strange about her. She’s so…different looking. I’ve always looked at people with equal looking faces. In our ancestors world they would be called…pretty, I think. But she’s not equal in our way. She’s equal in a different way. It’s almost intimidating. She starts to speak,

           “And we have now reached our final fourteen year. Estella, you are now a fifteen.” What?! There must be some mistake! I have to move on to year fifteen! I can’t leave! I want to shout out, to tell her she’s…what’s the word? Wrong. I want to tell her she’s wrong. But accusing someone of being wrong would result in the same punishment. And standing up would make me less equal than the others in the crowd, so I stay in my seat, watching Jude Maria’s eyes on mine. Her eyes are a strange kind of equal too. Most of our eyes are an equal shade of brown, but not hers. Her eyes have a strange yellow color. Yellow like one of those old things I’ve seen in the museums…what are they called? I think something like a bus. Only her eyes are a brighter color, they pop out in such an unequal way I’m surprised she hasn’t gone to the Equality Building to get it more equal. Most people would, but maybe that’s what keeps her moving up from year to year. When people feel something about them is unequal, you go to the Equality Building, and they make you look equal. I think our ancestors did things like this. Had procedures called ‘surgeries’ to make themselves look…more equal than others, by making their bodies more equal looking to other people. Most people think it’s very unfair of them to do so. Making themselves equal unnaturally, in my history class we have to learn strange words for everything. I think the word you would use for their equal-making procedures would be, “cheating,” but I don’t know that word very well. I don’t even think our Equal Mind Makers, (once called ‘teachers’) understand the words. Eventually she calls me up, and puts an arm around my shoulders. She pulls me behind the stage, and whispers in my ear, “You may be wondering why you are not an equal this year.”

           “Yes ma’am. I want to be equal again.”

           “You will be, in time.”

           “But won’t I be less equal? Won’t I be…what’s that word…be-hind the others?”

           “Oh Azurite, nobody is really behind, some people are just less equal longer than others.”

           I try to understand what she’s telling me, but I don’t. I’ve never seen or heard of anybody being pulled backstage to be unequal longer.

           “Now back to what I need to tell you. “

           “What’s that?”

           “I have a job for you Azurite, a special, job.”