The Capitalist Plan

Surprise!... Surprise?

Two years passed as the our fields finally started to grow long and tall. Mama sometimes let me play in the brilliant grains after my coursework, and I loved to feed the birds with the fallen pieces, though she would never let me touch the servant's works. After the long years of teasing it from the soil and letting it grow, our huge crop was ready to start its first harvest of hopefully hundreds to come.

I advanced another level in my computerized classwork for my fifth time, causing a mild celebration. I was already three, almost four years ahead of most the kids my age, and I could tell Mama and Papa were proud of me, Mama more than anyone else.

"You're doing so well, baby girl, so well!" she told me.

With levels, however, came more knowledge. When I got to this level, I started learning about history. About WorldAmericana. About all of it.

I discovered how our government works and why it works like it does.

I read books that described unimaginable thrills and adventures.

I even did research projects on a war that no one had ever mentioned before.

That was when an assignment had me watch CNN News, rather than our programmed DSNY hosts. It was the first time I realized that our amazing, wonderful world wasn't so wonderful. That there was a world separate from my own, where people died for scraps of food I would incinerate.

It was also the first time I started to understand what the Capitalist Plan was, and why it was so important.

So when Papa came home one day, one day before the beginning of the Month, shouting and yelling about a contract, I actually understood some of what was going on.

"I've got a new deal!" He picked me up, smiling, but I sensed a bit of worry under his happiness. Mama came running outside and wrapped us into a giant hug.

"How about we celebrate with a dinner?"she asked. I knew that the extra money would only make things harder tomorrow, when things started closing, but for now it would make us happy.

"Of course!" Papa said, carrying me to the still-waiting carriage-pod and setting me inside. He kissed Mama gently before offering his hand to help her up. She sat next to him and across from me.

"Please take us to Truvisto." he told the computer. Both Mama and I gasped. Truvisto was the most expensive, classy restaurant in the United, if not WorldAmericana. And while it was close enough from home, we had never went before. We rarely went out to eat when we had our own cutting edge computer chef, though we did have it make extremely fancy meals for certain occasions.

The engine hummed as Mama exclaimed, "Who was your contract with?"

My father just smiled.

"It shall be a night to remember!" he declared after some time. I smoothed out the wrinkles in my dress, glad I was wearing something prettier than my normal clothes.

When we got there, it wasn't quite dark yet, so we were able to walk outside to get into the building. It was almost halfway full inside, but when we walked past the doors a vallet put a fat ring over the handle, signifying its capacity.

I realized this was to keep it intentionally comfortable and spacious, and this made me kind of happy. Like we were special.

We sat down at a modern bench, and got small holotablets to order. Almost every picture was something I could have had our computer order, but the attendant assured me that it was all human-made and tasted much better than a computer could make. I hated the way he talked to me, as if I was a little girl and could only understand simplistic words.

I ended up choosing a shrimp bowl.

Mama and Papa talked for sometime, with Papa telling a story about a glitch in the computers at work. I sat and followed the conversation, answering when they asked me a question. I loved listening to him when he was so happy, and watching his face light up when he got to a good bit. The way Papa told the story, adding in gestures and different voice tones, made even the most bland things seem fun.

The shrimp came quickly, and, as promised, it tasted wonderful. Much better than anything the computer could have come up with. Just the right amount of sweetness and a burst of flavor, plus the taste of the smoke on them made it the best meal I had ever had. I wanted more of it, but didn't even have to ask. A new platter came out almost immediately after mine was empty.

I was about to pick apart the new dish, but the waiter lingered behind Mama. Papa was still telling his story, and Mama didn't seem to notice the man. I cleared my throat, which caused her to look up.

"Mrs. Chancelliere?" He asked, almost hesitating. When Mama nodded, he continued. "May I have a word with you?"

Mama looked at Papa, then nodded and stood up. The waiter's voice lowered, and I couldn't hear it. By the look on Mama's face, something bad had happened. She was crying, silently, barely even able to talk. Papa quickly stood up and started talking to the waiter, holding Mama up and comforting her. Within a minute, he had scooped me up in his arms.

"We need to go, Isra." he told me gently. I wanted to complain, but didn't say anything. Something important had happened. I just didn't know what.

My parents on the other side of the sound wall on the carriage ride. I couldn't hear anything they were saying, but they were really worried, which made me worried. They had never shut me out like this. Even with the Capitalist Plan, I had always gotten some idea what had happened. No one was even talking to me, so I played with the computer instead, pulling up games, and Guess Who, and even 20 Questions.

When we got home, the wall slid open automatically.

"Wait for us outside." Mama told me. I jumped down from the door and stood there, dangerously close to being seen.

"We need to tell her." My papa said, fiercely whispering.

"She wouldn't understand how important this is!" My mother responded.

I felt myself wishing that they would, so I could figure out what was happening, but I knew better than to tell them that.

"She's eight, and understands better than any kid her age. We need to tell her."

In a moment, they both appeared outside the car by me, Papa helping Mama down.

"Isra, something bad has happened. We need you to understanding and patient, okay?" he told me.

I nodded and fiddled with my dresses pleats. Papa looked at Mama and nodded. Mama's hands shook badly as she grabbed Papa's.  She looked as if she didn't know what to tell me, and kept glancing away from me.

"Your grandpa Jerdon has died." She said with a long exhale.