Two
Bright and early Saturday morning, Cardinal City is plastered with people along all the streets and sidewalks. As far as the eye can see, sixteen-year-olds in formal gowns and suits of every shade of the rainbow cloud the landscape. In front of the bright-red Cardinal building a large platform is raised with several chairs sitting in judgment behind the Machine. I've only ever seen pictures of the Machine in our history books. The black-and-white pictures of the mechanical brain that weeds out future criminals always looked sinister to me. In person, there really isn't much to it.
The round disc is only large enough for a single person to stand with their feet together. Two poles extend up from the base, topped with flat readers for our hands. That's where the Machine gets its information, though how it works is a mystery. A small horizontal bar in the front that links the readers will display the green and red lights that indicate each person's status. I've seen video games at the teen center that looked more sophisticated.
"Rebecca, Rebecca, over here!" Cheryl's voice rings out above the din from where she stands next to a small shop. "Isn't this exciting?" she asks when my parents and I finally wind our way through the crowd to join her. "Did you see the cameras?"
I stop moving and take in the square for the first time. I was so absorbed with the Machine I completely missed the video cameras positioned on high stands around the platform and throughout the crowd. Off to the side a raised booth towers over the crowd with more cameras. It reminds me of the booths used by the newsman when they show the Thanksgiving Day Parade every summer to commemorate the election of the Cardinal.
"Why are they there?" I ask.
"They're going to film the ceremony, of course. Do you think they'll show it to all the Territories?" Cheryl grabs my hands and pumps our arms up and down, nearly hitting several other people on the tightly packed sidewalk. "Just think, everyone back home will get to see us in our Acceptance gowns when it's our turn at the Machine."
Thanks to Cheryl's speculation, my mother is now fussing with every part of me within arm's reach. My dress is smoothed, my curls bounced and hairpins checked to make certain that no rogue strand of hair can mar my on-screen debut. "Stop twisting your necklace, Rebecca," she says, batting at my fingers. "It makes you look nervous." I am nervous.
I push my arms down to my sides, but it's hard to keep them still. It would be nice to have everyone from home see me in something other than the plain, collared dresses that make up my normal wardrobe. But this isn't a fashion show. Not everyone on that stage will make it to the ball tonight. Some among us will be Rejected and sent to the PIT. There isn't any tolerance for heathens who threaten our peace. The PIT keeps them away from us where they can only hurt each other.
I take a deep breath and release the fists knotted at my side. I can't go into the ceremony expecting the worst. It doesn't matter how horrible the PIT is. I won't be going there. A strong, deep voice calling out from the loudspeaker brings me back to the present.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, would all those participating in today's Acceptance ceremony please report to the right side of the stage. Our ceremony will begin momentarily."
Sure enough, the banners all around the square show less than thirty minutes on their countdown.
"Oh, Rebecca. My little girl all grown up." My mother gives me a quick peck on the cheek and a light hug, careful to avoid wrinkling my dress.
"We love you," my father says, pulling me into a deeper hug despite the clicks of disapproval from my mother. My father is a man of few words, so the ones he does say count extra. I lean in and hug him back, tighter than I have in years.
