Tattooed

XVIII

I had never felt more thankful that I worked alone than today. I had slightly dark circles under my eyes and my hair was a mess. After last night's nightmare I was not in a working mood. I was used to functioning on a few hours of sleep by now but nightmares were a different story. I would've called in but I wanted to find something in the library archives.

The bookshelf I found the giant book in had to have more material about the outside world or the world before stratums were placed. I hypothesized the books were placed in the bookshelf because they were somewhat illegal. I don't think it can be called illegal if there's no law against books of the outside world, but I know it's something higher officials want to cover up. It had to be. That's why I didn't understand the titles when I was reorganizing it.

The archive was still a giant unorganized mess and I felt bad I wasn't doing my job, but my curiosity was too strong to ignore. I bent down to the lone bookshelf and ran my finger along the frail book spines. There was nothing else about stratums or the so called revolution mentioned in my book. I stood up in disappointment. I rubbed my eyes and yawned.

"Well, I know I'm not going to get anything done today," I said out loud to myself. "So might as well call in, take a nap, refresh, maybe read."

I was out the door and already calling Gregory in two minutes flat.

Back at home I was sitting in bed, wrapped in a blanket, with the book propped in my lap. Mr. Gregory graciously let me skip a day, but only if I made up the hours another time. I skipped a couple of chapters in the book, looking for something of interest. And then I found it.

Implementing Tattoos in the Stratums:

I readjusted my position and focused on the slightly faded words. I could feel my heart pump faster in anticipation.

Once the Founders were deceased the next generation decided new rules had to be made to keep the peace. The state prided itself on its new interconnected utopian like Stratum system. However unrest began to slowly build up again, the people started to fight against each other over different beliefs in the stratums. The new rulers looked to Dr. Merzel, who was a scientist who studied in the works of our tattoos and why they form on our bodies. They funded his research and although he died before finishing it, they studied his notes and concluded tattoos appeared during special life defining experiences. They took this newfound knowledge and further concluded that those with the same types of tattoos must be similar in beliefs. So the next rulers implemented a new system. The Stratums were renamed, and people were assigned to certain stratums based on the tattoos they had. The system worked perfectly, for a while. The work flowed more smoothly but whenever people from different stratums met, it almost always ended in complications, if not a fight. So more rules were placed, people from other stratums were no longer allowed to fraternize or leave their stratum outside of business.

The rulers also made children who turned eighteen undergo a test to decide what their new stratum was based on the tattoos they earned over their life period. If they had to leave their home stratum, the rulers decided it was best to continue to ban interaction with families in fear of stratum collisions. It was the best solution the government had to keeping peace and avoiding a repeat of anarchy like the states around them.

I felt like I couldn't breathe. No one, no one had ever mentioned that part of our history. In school even the teachers didn't know why our stratums were the way they were, they only told us it was for the best. Now I knew the truth. But that wasn't what shook me up the most, it was the one name mentioned in the passage. Dr. Merzel. That means there was a good, good chance that he was one of my ancestors. And he was the reason people were seperated by their tattoos.

I frantically turned the page and continued reading. My fingers were shaking.

The only complication the next generation rulers had left was the test. Dubbed "The Branding" there was a machine that analyzed all the tattoos and matched them up to a chart of stereotypical stratum tattoos. Arsty tattoos added a point to the Creative stratums, wicked looking tattoos added a point to the Courageous stratum. Whichever stratum had the most points was the new assigned stratum. But there were people who didn't have a lot of tattoos, or who came out tied in points. The rulers could not identify them, and therefore were seen as a threat to the peace. The solution? Create a new stratum, stick them in there, and make the rest of the state believe there was something wrong with them.

I slammed the book shut and threw it to the other side of the bed as if I saw something I wasn't suppose to see. And I think I did. Suddenly my whole life felt like a lie. I thought back to the day of my Branding, I felt special. But according to what I just read, nothing was special. Tattoos magically appearing on our skin was the only magical thing about it, the machine gave it meaning based on statistics and stereotypes. The whole Branding ceremony was just a point system. I thought about the people in the Colorless Stratum and I saw them in a whole different way now. How many of them were both equally Courageous and Cunning? Or Clement and Creative? And because of that they were put in the saddest stratum, just because a long time ago some higher official thought they were a threat.

I felt sickened by everything. I grabbed the book and hid it then walked out of my house to get some fresh air. I tried acting normal, but how can you act normal when nothing is going to look the same anymore?