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Fiona sat on the bed in her room, folder of instructions in hand.
She looked down at the folder, thick with papers which, she was sure, detailed all of the many aspects of caring for the Old. Even with all the volunteer hours she had spent in the House of the Old, she knew that there must be much more to learn.
She felt... apprehensive. Yes, that was it. Apprehensive of her new duties as a Citizen-In-Training. Even though she was well-prepared for her new job, and had been hoping for this very Assignment, she still felt nervous.
She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for her friend Jonas. How much worse must he feel, to have been given such a weighty assignment? It was a great honor, to be sure, but also an incredible responsibility to have placed on his shoulders.
Fiona ran her hand over the smooth manilla cover of the folder. What did his folder look like? What, exactly, was the training of a Receiver like?
She knew that it was important to the wellbeing of the Community, though she was not quite clear on all of what the Assignment entailed. She knew that the Receiver of Memories was sometimes called upon to advise the Council when they had to make an important decision.
Still, the Council of Elders would not have given Jonas the Assignment if he had not been qualified.
Even if she were worried for Jonas, she knew that the Council of Elders had chosen well. If the Elders deliberated so thoroughly over ordinary Assignments, how much more so for the future Receiver?
Fiona opened the folder to look at the instructions within.
Most of them were simple enough, and much like what she had expected--she was to go immediately to the House of the Old after school hours, and there were a number of instructions regarding the general duties of a Caretaker, such as the proper proportions of meals to serve, the manner in which to bathe the Old, and, to her mild surprise, the manner in which one was to use a discipline wand.
This last bit troubled her slightly. She disliked the idea of causing anyone pain... but if it was necessary to maintain order, then of course she would do her duty.
She had never seen a discipline wand used in her volunteer hours at the House of the Old, but then again, the Caretakers probably wouldn't assign any of the schoolchildren to care for an Old person who was too much of a troublemaker.
She moved on. Fiona was familiar with many of the procedures, having worked so often at the House of the Old.
But she was stopped short by the very last line on the very last page.
You may lie.
Fiona read the line over several more times, making certain that she understood it correctly.
But those three simple words offered no room for misinterpretation.
You may lie.
The very thought of speaking an untruth was utterly repulsive. The importance of accuracy in speech was a concept thoroughly drummed into every child's head. Even small errors in speech--such as Asher's mixup with "snack" and "smack" that the Head Elder had recalled in the Ceremony earlier--were swiftly reprimanded.
Yet, here in her Instructions, was permission, not to accidentally fumble words, as her friend Asher still did, but to deliberately deceive.
Silently, Fiona closed the folder and set it beside her on the bed, trying to properly label her feelings.
She felt upset, of course. She felt... unsteady, as though a path she had thought was perfectly level had a pothole right in front of her.
She felt more apprehensive than before about her Assignment.
Fiona wanted to talk to her parents, to ask them to explain what it all meant... but somehow, she could not imagine bringing up such an awkward topic at the nightly discussion of feelings.
Maybe she could talk to her friends about it... but Jonas, who she felt would be the most understanding, probably had enough troubles of his own.
Besides, what if they hadn't received that same instruction?
And worse, perhaps, what if they had?
What if they...
No. It was unthinkable. Jonas and Asher would never lie to her, just as she would never, ever lie to them.
The rule didn't say that she must lie, simply that she might.
She was certain that she would never take advantage of that opportunity.
Feeling a bit steadier, she reopened the folder and reread some of the procedures for taking care of the Old. She wanted to be prepared for her first day as a true Caretaker, rather than just a volunteer.
By the time Fiona's mother called her for supper, Fiona had nearly managed to forget that troubling final instruction.
---
"I don't know why I'm so nervous. I've been here so often before," said Fiona. She played unconsciously with her folder, trying not to think about lies.
"Well, everything's different now," Jonas pointed out. He was trying to sound calm, but Fiona could tell that he was nervous as well.
To be honest, she felt just a little strange, walking with him to the House of the Old as she'd done so often before. Everything was different. He was no longer just Jonas, but the Receiver-in-Training. The current Receiver was rarely ever seen. Could Jonas really remain her friend, given his new duties?
She knew that it was only natural to lose touch with one's childhood friends, and that she'd make plenty of acquaintances among the other Caretakers.
Still... it was not a comfortable thought, and not one she wished to dwell on.
"Even the nameplates on our bikes," said Fiona, laughing to release some of her tension. Yet another change that marked the beginning of her adult life.
"I don't want to be late," said Fiona, before suddenly worrying that she had sounded impolite, as though she wanted to get away from Jonas. "If we finish at the same time, I'll ride home with you," she offered, quickly.
Jonas smiled, nodded, and waved a farewell to her as he made his way to the Annex. She watched him go for a few moments, wondering what his training would be like.
Then she hurried into the building to begin her own.
The House of the Old was a pleasant, comfortable place, and as she entered it, she felt herself calming down a bit. This wasn't so different, after all. She already knew most of the duties involved in caring for the Old, though the folder had mentioned a few procedures she was unfamiliar with.
The topic of Release had been one of them, though the folder of instructions had been surprisingly vague on the topic. It said nothing about what happened during the actual Release, or where the Elsewhere the Released Old went was. The instructions merely mentioned that there was a room behind the Releasing Room auditorium where the procedure was carried out.
Fiona assumed that she would learn about it during her training. She was looking forward to it, in fact. The Old always enjoyed it when students came to volunteer, and many of them were quite talkative. They all described the Ceremony of Release in glowing terms, even if no one seemed to know what happened to those Released.
"Ah, Fiona! Congratulations on your Assignment," said Helena, who sat at the front desk, the same as always. As she had so many other times, the attendant handed Fiona a sheet of paper for Fiona to sign.
This time, however, it was not to keep track of her volunteer hours, but to register that she'd arrived for her shift as a Caregiver-in-Training.
Fiona smiled at Helena, still feeling a bit shaky.
"Now, let's see... ah, yes. Since this is your first day, you don't have your uniform just yet. You'll be able to pick it up in the supply room. You know where it is, right?"
Fiona nodded. As a volunteer, she hadn't had any reason to enter the room, but she'd passed by it enough to know where it was--the room was clearly labeled.
"Good," said Helena. "The attendant there will help you get your uniform, and you can change in one of the restroom stalls. As for what you'll be doing today..." Helena consulted a sheet of paper. "Since it's your first day as a Caregiver, as soon as you get your uniform, another Caregiver will help show you the duties you'll be performing. Even with all the time you have spent volunteering, I think you'll be surprised to find how much of the job you still have to learn. I'm sure you'll learn quickly, though. You've always been wonderful with the Old."
"Thank you for the compliment," said Fiona, her face growing slightly warm.
"Once you've changed into your uniform, Anthony will be waiting up here at the front desk." As Fiona walked down the hall, she heard the attendant speaking into the speaker, calling Anthony to the front desk.
Fiona's new uniform felt strange at first, somehow more... official than her ordinary tunic.
As expected, Anthony, a male Caregiver who looked a few years older than Fiona, was waiting patiently by the front desk.
"Hello, Fiona. Congratulations on your Assignment. We are very pleased to have you working with us. Follow me, please."
First on the tour was the Kitchen, which was already preparing for supper. The Old, Fiona knew, tended to eat smaller portions, but she listened attentively as Anthony went over the dietary needs of the Old.
"...it is also important to ensure that the Old recieve enough fiber, calcium, potassium, zinc, and iron--if you end up working in the Kitchen permanently as a meal planner, you'll need to keep all this in mind. Because the Old eat smaller portions at mealtimes, it is all the more important that the food they do eat is rich in nutrients..."
This all seemed very complex, and she strained to remember all of what Anthony had said.
In addition to all that, some of the Old were on special diets.
"...table 7-B is on a special, low-sodium diet--the trays are clearly labelled..."
She hoped that there was a list somewhere that she could take home and study. She asked Anthony, who laughed and replied that, yes, of course there was, but he personally thought she would end up working in a different area of the House.
"You have such a gentle manner with the Old, I think you would enjoy working more directly with them--perhaps in physical therapy, or in the Bathing Room. Still, it is important to be familiar with all of the procedures--even if you generally work in one area, there's always the chance there will be extra help needed in the Kitchen, or the Supply Room, or with the Administrative Records, and you'll need to be ready."
That said, he went on to discuss medications.
Fiona wished that she had requested a notepad to write everything down. She felt relieved when Anthony pointed out the chart which listed all of the medications, who was to recieve them, how much, and at what times.
"It's important to make sure the right person gets the right medicine," said Anthony. "It's not so bad if, say, one of the Old accidentally gets a calcium supplement instead of a multivitamin tablet just one time, but there have been mistakes made in the past." He leaned in closer, conspiratorially. "To tell you the truth," he whispered, "I accidentally mixed up the Vitamin A and Vitamin D tablets once. When the House Administration found out..." he grimaced dramatically. "Well," he said, grinning again, "let's just say I've always been very, very careful with the medications ever since."
The Exercise and Bathing Rooms were barely brushed over--she had helped in both during her volunteer hours--and Anthony had gone briefly over the guidelines for the use of a discipline wand. She remembered all of those from her Instructions, but listened politely as Anthony explained.
"And I think that's about it for today," Anthony finished. "Did you have any questions? I would be happy to answer any that I can."
Fiona paused. Well, he had offered, after all...
"I was wondering," she said softly, a bit uncertain, "since the Instructions only mentioned it briefly... what about Release? Will I be..."
Anthony nodded solemnly. "Everyone is trained to carry out the procedure of Release. You'll learn more about that later... I believe there's one scheduled about a week from now."
"Thank you for instructing me," said Fiona.
"You're welcome," said Anthony.
Fiona spent another hour at the House of the Old, working in the Bathing Room. The familiar duty felt comforting, and when she finally left the House, all of her earlier anxiety had disappeared.
She waited a while at the bike area, but Jonas didn't show up. Fiona wondered what kind of training he was getting.
But it was getting late, and it was almost time for supper. With one last glance to see if Jonas was coming, Fiona got on her bike and rode home.
---
The Ceremony of Release was just as beautiful as she had been told.
There was a place in the audience reserved for the Caregivers. Fiona sat in the third row from the front, watching as Celia, the one to be released, beamed as all of her accomplishments in life were recited for the crowd.
She had been a Nurturer, and had been almost legendary in her ability to nurse a sick Newchild back to health. About thirty years ago, a wave of sickness that had swept over the Community, and while it was not particularly serious in adults, who coughed for a few days and then recovered, several Newchildren had died.
Celia had volunteered herself for extra shifts, tirelessly watching over her charges, often staying overnight to ensure that the Newchildren were well cared for. The mortality rate of this Community had been the lowest of all the surrounding Communities affected by the illness, in no small part thanks to Celia's dedicated care.
She had raised two children of her own in her family unit, both of them now successful Citizens contributing to the Community's wellbeing.
Fiona applauded enthusiastically along with everyone else after Celia gave her farewell speech, then, along with several other Caregivers, got up and left through the special door in the Releasing Room which Celia had gone through seconds before.
The woman was reclining in a comfortable-looking chair, a blissful expression on her face.
Fiona could see, to the side, one of the female Caregivers whose name Fiona did not know filling a syringe with a clear fluid from a bottle.
She had been told, before the Ceremony, that she would be allowed to observe the Release itself, and stood carefully aside to avoid getting in the way.
The Caregiver with the syringe gently took Celia's arm and looked into the Old woman's eyes.
"Celia," she said gently. "We thank you for your life."
Celia smiled up at the Caregiver, tears of happiness welling in her eyes.
Then the Caregiver gently slid the needle into one of Celia's veins, injecting the fluid carefully.
Fiona wondered what it was. Newchildren had to get injections, she knew, to protect them from illness, but she hadn't known that the Old also needed them. Perhaps it was something to prepare her for Elsewhere.
Suddenly, her body jerked. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she went limp.
Two male Caregivers carried in a stretcher. Two more lifted Celia's body from the chair, laying it out on the stretcher, and the Old woman was carried away through yet another door.
Fiona did not see where they took her. She simply stood there, feeling numb.
She was not sure what had happened. She had a vague feeling that something wasn't right.
"Fiona," came a gentle voice. It was Anthony. "Will you walk with me a moment? I'd like to explain a few things to you."
She nodded silently, following him back through the door into the Releasing Room.
The Old were still filing out. The Release hadn't taken more than a few minutes--much shorter than the Ceremony.
The House of the Old had a private courtyard, where the Old could walk around or just sit on the benches and enjoy the fresh air. It was here that Anthony led her.
It was completely empty. Anthony sat on one of the benches. Fiona sat down beside him.
"I know you might be feeling a bit strange right now," said Anthony. "I know I was, when I saw my first Release. But please understand, Release is perfectly natural. We are raised by the Community when we are young. We go to serve the Community when we are older by working at our given Assignments. When we are Old, we serve the Community with our wisdom, until it is time to be Released.
Then, our bodies will be recycled, and we will continue to serve the community by enriching the soil.
During the Naming at next year's Ceremony, a family unit will recieve a little Newchild named Celia, and she will go on to be raised, to be given an Assignment, to grow Old, and finally be Released. It is the natural progression of life.
But learning this makes some people upset," said Anthony intently, "so most are not told everything. You are not allowed to speak of Release with anybody, not even your friends or family unit. Do you understand?"
Fiona nodded mutely, not wanting to speak.
"Good." Anthony smiled. "Now, there's always a bit of confusion after a Release--all sorts of paperwork to be done, and some readjustment--we'll be recieving a new resident in a few days, I believe her name is Sarah, and we'll need to prepare..."
Fiona worked dutifully, though once she was finished with her work for the day, and was getting her bike to head home, she could hardly remember exactly what she'd been doing.
At supper that night, as usual, her family unit spoke about what they'd done that day, and discussed all of their feelings.
When it was her turn, Fiona said, "There was a Release today."
"Ah," her mother said, nodding. "I'm told the Ceremony of Release is supposed to be lovely."
"It was," said Fiona, simply. "I felt happy, watching it."
Lying was much easier than she had thought.
---
They gave her a soft plastic model of a forearm and a syringe full of water.
They showed her where the vein was, and how to insert the needle, and how to pinch the flesh a bit, and inject slowly, so it would barely hurt.
It's only plastic, she told herself as she did.
Every day, they had her practice a few times, a little before she went home for supper.
Only plastic.
Every evening, she cheerfully discussed the happenings of her days at the House of the Old--how she had helped one of the Old, who was blind, during the female's physical therapy session; how the landscaping crew was working on redesigning the arrangement of flower beds in the courtyard--but she never spoke of these practice sessions.
It's only plastic.
A few weeks later, they told her that she was doing it perfectly, and that she could perform the next release.
This one was for another female, named Larissa.
She sat in the audience, smiled and clapped, led Larissa into the room and sat her down, got out the syringe, filled it for the first time with the Release liquid, rubbed Larissa's arm with an alcohol-laden cotton swab, gently took her arm, and smiled at her.
"Thank you for your life, Larissa," she said gently, and then Released her.
Only plastic.
---
That night, at dinner, she spoke laughingly about all the paperwork that had to be done after every Release, and to prepare for the new resident.
She smiled, and she did not once lie.
---
She fit here, at the House of the Old.
She kept up her grades at school, just as she always had, but she always looked forward to going to the House of the Old after school. There was her true calling.
She was still fairly close to Asher, when she saw him during school hours, though Jonas seemed to grow more and more distant.
This did not trouble her as much as she'd thought it would. It was only natural, of course. They were Twelves now.
Though they wouldn't be for much longer--the Ceremony was in just a few weeks. There was no formal Ceremony of Thirteen, and they would simply be citizens-in-training for a few more years, until they were finally assigned their own dwellings.
Fiona wondered if anyone else would be assigned to the House of the Old this year. She hoped to be the one asked to show them around, if there were.
She remembered herself on the first day after the Ceremony of Twelve, so nervous about her Assignment...
But of course she had adjusted quickly. The Elders rarely ever made mistakes.
---
Jonas had disappeared.
Fiona kept stealing glances at his empty seat, but apart from the official announcement, no one spoke about it.
There was a tension in the air. The fact that the Reciever-in-training had gone missing was reason enough for that, but it was almost as though there were something deeper...
A sense of apprehension, as though waiting for something dreadful to happen, pervaded the atmosphere of the Community.
Fiona did not fully understand, but she didn't know how to ask about it.
In the end, she didn't need to.
---
They are coming for her.
She runs, runs, runs, her breath grating harshly against her throat, the muscles in her legs cramping.
They will kill her if they find her--the cruel men (the word soldiers forms itself in her mind), the ones who destroyed her home, her family...
A sob escapes her throat as she staggers on in the darkness. She hears loud noise (gunfire, made by the guns the soldiers carry) echoing nearby, and knows that they are near.
Her foot catches on something. She tumbles to the ground, and pain shoots up her leg.
She tries to get up, but when she tries to put weight on her left foot, it hurts too much to even consider walking.
So she crawls, and crawls, and tries to get away from the ruined, burning remains of her village.
The sky begins to grow light, and for a few moments, she feels a surge of relief...
And then she hears footsteps behind her, the loud clomping of soldiers' boots.
Trembling, she makes herself as small as she can, wishing she could sink into the ground.
She spends an eternity like that, her eyes shut tight, hoping, praying that the soldiers will go away, listening to the footsteps drawing nearer and nearer...
She hears a gunshot.
And then she hears nothing more.
---
Fiona screamed.
It was something she had not done since she was very small. Screaming was undisciplined, devoid of meaning, and unpleasant to others in the Community. No one older than Three would act in such a manner.
But she had never hurt like this before.
She sought to grab onto the emotions, to label them, and thus to control them.
Fear. There had been fear, and there had been pain...
She tried to get up from her bed, and collapsed onto the floor, crying out. Her leg...
No. It was impossible. It had just been a dream.
She got up again. Her leg still hurt, though the pain was not as sharp as it was before, and her back...
"Relief-of-pain. Please!" she told the wallspeaker, then, still shaking, sat on the floor to wait.
Her father brought the pills a few minutes later, and a glass of water to take them with. Her mother followed close behind him, and both Fiona's parents looked grim.
The pills helped a little. The pain in her leg faded, but the tight feeling in her chest and the sick feeling in her stomach remained.
"Fiona," said her father gently. "What happened?"
She explained as best she could. It was difficult to think straight. Her head felt confused. It had felt so vividly real.
When she had finished, she looked up at her parents. All she wanted was for them to tell her, as they had when she had told about her childhood nightmares, that it was just a dream, and could not harm her.
Instead, her father's mouth tightened. "It's happening again," he said, and he sounded... afraid.
Fiona didn't ask what "it" was, but just closed her eyes and curled up, just as she had before, wishing that she could just disappear.
---
Two weeks later, Fiona once more made her way to the House of the Old.
There had been an emergency meeting called the day after Fiona had experienced the first, horrible memory in which the Council of Elders had explained everything.
Jonas was missing, and was now presumed lost to the Community.
All of the memories he had recieved had, as a result, returned to the Community.
"The Reciever! Where is he?" someone had yelled from the audience, interrupting. This was shockingly rude, but no one had said anything about it.
In a weary voice, the Chief Elder simply replied, "He cannot take the memories back."
The crowd had erupted into shouts: "Why not? He did before, the last time!"
Yet still the only response was "He cannot."
All around, people were yelling, and screaming, and weeping.
It was utter chaos, and shortly thereafter, Fiona's mother took her firmly by the hand. Carefully, the family made their way through the broiling crowd and back to their dwelling.
The next few days had been confused. Supplies were not delivered on time, and the family went without breakfast or lunch the day after the meeting. Fiona's stomach had ached with hunger, but it had felt mild next to the pain of her memory.
But, eventually, things had settled down.
The Speaker had announced two days ago, in an uncharacteristically subdued tone, that the Reciever of Memories would be offering aid in handling the memories to those who requested it.
Fiona didn't know how many had taken the Reciever up on the offer. For the most part, everyone seemed to be trying to pretend nothing was happening.
Helena looked up at her as she entered, a haggard look on her face and dark bags beneath her eyes.
"Three more requests, today," said Helena quietly.
Fiona winced. The Old had not gone unaffected by the memories, and more and more requested Release by the day. There had been requests for Release among ordinary Citizens as well, but a few days ago the Council of Elders had forbidden Release to all but the imperfect young, criminals, and the Old to prevent the loss of too many workers in the Community.
In an attempt to dissuade them from requesting Release, the House administrators announced that those who requested Release would be given no proper Ceremony. Even then, the requests came in steadily.
"You've been assigned to perform the Releases for today," the older woman continued. "They are waiting for you in the Releasing Room."
Fiona opened her mouth, as if to speak, then closed it, swallowed once, and nodded.
She had performed Releases before... before the memories. She had done them well, quickly and efficiently.
But now, for some reason, the thought of the procedure felt altogether wrong. She couldn't put her finger on just why, but she felt sick to her stomach just contemplating it.
Still, she was a Caregiver for the Old, and she would do her duty.
She lifted her head, straightened her shoulders, and walked into the Releasing Room.
The three--two males, one female--were all sitting together in the front row of seats, silent.
The rightmost man's cheeks were streaked with tears.
But there was no need to dwell on that, Fiona told herself. All she had to do was perform her duty as Caregiver.
She led the other male into the back room, and prepared. She hardly needed to think any more about what she was doing. She had done it so many times before, first with the soft replica arm and saltwater, and a few times with real Old people and real Release serum.
"Gerald, we thank you for your life," she said as she injected him. She realized that there was no one to carry the body away. She went over to the wall speaker and requested aid, and two other Caregivers arrived within minutes.
She did not look at Gerald's body as they carried it away.
The woman was next. Her face was stony and hard, her jaw clenched. Her name was Sonia, and Fiona remembered what a sweet, talkative woman she was, or had been, always telling Fiona stories about her childhood. Fiona had heard them all, by now--some of them more than twice. Now, Sonia was silent, and Fiona could not meet her gaze.
Fiona prepared another syringe, said the proper words, and injected.
She was out the door before Sonia was carried out, to fetch the third male.
She took him by the hand and led him in, prepared the syringe, turned back to him--
---
"Amazing grace, how sweet the sound..."
She was in a building. Rows and rows of people were standing and singing.
"That saved a wretch like me..."
There was a container in the front of the room, surrounded by baskets of flowers. A large, framed picture of a smiling Old woman stood in front of one of the baskets.
"I once was lost, but now am found..."
She looked up. Light streamed through the window, which looked... different, somehow...
"Was blind, but now I see."
The window had a picture of a bearded man on the front, his arms outstretched.
"Through many dangers, toils and snares..."
The voice of the man next to her was choked up. She turned to him, concerned.
"We have already come..."
The man was Old himself. A word presented itself to Fiona: grandfather.
"'Tis grace that brought us safe thus far..."
Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and Fiona could hear him whispering something.
"And grace will lead us home."
"Muriel," he was saying in a trembling voice. "Oh, Muriel..."
Grandmother.
Fiona's cheeks felt wet. She reached up to touch her face, and realized that she was crying too.
---
Tears streaming down her face, she dropped the syringe.
In quick, measured steps, she made her way out of the Releasing Room, and then out of the House of the Old.
She didn't know where she was going. She didn't care.
She only knew that she had to keep moving, or else everything would catch up with her--the memories, and the raw, intense feelings they brought with them.
Fiona kept walking until she reached the outskirts of town. She had calmed down a little, now, and she knew that she would have to go back eventually.
She didn't want to go back to the House of the Old. She wasn't sure she could face... well, anyone there right now.
She couldn't go back home. Her parents might already have been notified of their daughter's irregular behavior.
There was only one place she could go.
He had said that he would help those who wanted help, and Fiona needed help now.
Slowly, she made her way back toward the House of the Old. This time, she kept walking past it, and into the Annex.
"I would like to see the Reciever of Memories, please," she said softly to the Attendant.
The female looked up. "All right. One moment, please." The Attendant's voice seemed oddly... measured, Fiona supposed, as though she were being very careful not to show any emotion.
Oh, Jonas. What have you done to us?
It was irrational, she knew, to blame him for all this. He hadn't meant to... to...
A fragment of memory rose back in Fiona's mind, and she shuddered.
...to die.
"You may enter. That door," said the Attendant, and Fiona nodded. "Thank you," she replied, her voice sounding thin and papery.
---
The Reciever seemed tired.
"You must be Fiona," he said, after looking at her for a moment.
Fiona blinked a few times, surprised.
"Jonas mentioned you several times," the Reciever continued. "I suppose you've come to ask me for help."
"Y-yes," Fiona stammered.
"Feel free to sit down." A distant look came into the Reciever's pale eyes. "So few seem to want to visit. Most apparently would rather try and ignore the memories, pretend they don't exist... just like before. They cannot get rid of me because of the memories I still hold, but they can ignore me. I was a fool to think things would change so easily."
Fiona said nothing, feeling bewildered.
"But I fear I am being inconsiderate. I hope you'll forgive my ramblings." The Reciever's lips twitched in an almost-smile, then his face grew serious once more. "I imagine that these past few days have brought you things you've never experienced before--things you never knew existed. You want to know how to deal with them."
"I... is..." Fiona started, then stopped, biting her lip.
Is it true that you really can't take the memories back?
The horrible suspicion that had come after she'd read through her folder of instructions so long ago sprung up once more.
Can you lie? Did you?
Fiona settled on a different phrasing, though this too was rude enough that she cringed inwardly as she spoke. "Was the Chief Elder accurate in saying that you can't take back the memories?"
The Reciever looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments before speaking. "Not entirely. I could draw the memories back into myself... but what would happen then?"
Everything would go back to normal. The pain would go away.
"Nothing would change," said the Reciever softly. "Everything would remain in Sameness, forever."
"I was happy with Sameness," said Fiona. "Everyone was!"
The Reciever shook his head. "You were content, perhaps, but you knew of nothing else. And as for everyone..." The Reciever turned away. "Countless generations of Recievers have taken the memories of the world into themselves, to spare their Communities the pain, the joy, and the pure, utter emotion the memories held. Back and back and back...
There have been failures before, those whose hearts broke under the strain of the memories.
Not all were happy with Sameness, and what it took to maintain it."
"But... but why won't..." Fiona turned away, her eyes stinging with frustration. Why couldn't he take the memories back? Why couldn't everything just go back to the way it was, back before...
"Please. Let me give you something that might help you understand." He held out an age-worn hand. "Take my hand."
Hesitating briefly, Fiona did so, avoiding the man's piercing pale eyes. She could feel his hand trembling with effort.
"Close your eyes, and listen."
Her eyes fluttered shut. At first, she could hear nothing but the sound of her own breathing, and that of the Reciever.
Then...
She can hear something...
They are noises she does not recognize. Names rise in her mind, to label the sounds: Violin. Viola. Clarinet. Oboe. Trumpet. Trombone. Timpani. And even more...
The sound surges, rising, falling, sweeping her along until she ceases to be aware of anything else. She is enveloped wholly by the sound.
There is pure, utter joy in the sound, and she wishes that it would stretch on forever.
When she opened her eyes, she found that her cheeks were wet again.
"I'm... sorry," she said, wiping her face. "I..."
"Don't apologize," said the Reciever.
"What... what was that?" Fiona asked.
"That was music."
"Why don't we have it here, in the Community?"
"Because, where there is music, there is the chance of cacophony. Where there is beauty, there is a chance of ugliness. Where there is good, there is the chance of evil. Sameness does not permit risk to exist, and so we have no music."
"But what if it's worth the risk?" Fiona said, softly.
"What, indeed," the Reciever replied, a strange look in his eye.
Fiona looked at him. "I think I might understand, a little."
The Reciever nodded.
"But what about the other memories? The ones that hurt?"
The Reciever gave a small, sad smile. "I'm afraid that the pain never goes away, not entirely. But when pain, like any burden, is shared, it is easier to bear. You might find someone to speak of it with. I am perfectly willing to listen, if you so desire, but all the Community carries some pain. In time, perhaps there will be true sharing, rather than the superficial Sharing that pretends to reveal all and says nothing.
It also helps to remember the good. There are many painful memories, but also many good ones. All too often, people take the bad but forget to think of all the good that still exists. I gave Jonas many good things, as well, and these too will find their way back into the Community.
I fear I cannot help much more than that. I hope that this will aid you."
Fiona rose. "Yes. It has. I thank you, Reciever."
"Thank you for coming. It was good to meet you," the Reciever replied.
Fiona left the Reciever's dwelling and stepped outside.
She did not want to return to the House of the Old, but perhaps she could face her parents, now.
She retrieved her bike from the front of the House of the Old, but didn't head straight home. She had time for a brief ride along the river before it would be time to head for home.
Her world had been shattered, and things would never return to the way they had been before.
But she would survive. This much she knew.
She had been changed, as had everyone else in the Community, even if they didn't realize it yet.
Tomorrow, she knew, she would have to go back to the House of the Old, where she would take care of the Old as she had always done.
But something deep inside her knew that she could not carry out another Release.
She could deal with that when the time came. The rich, powerful notes of the music still echoed inside her, making her heart ache, and yet it was a good sort of ache.
Tomorrow was a new day, and with time, things could change. Maybe for the better.
Fiona brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes, then suddenly braked.
She took a few strands in her fingers, examining them more closely.
They seemed the same as they always did, and yet...
She had been certain that, for the briefest of instants...
...something had changed...
---
It was almost unnoticeable at first, but things did change.
The appearance of books, for one. Each home had always held three, of course--a dictionary, a directory, and the Book of Rules.
Someone, however, had begun to print more.
They were primitively done, and not as well-bound as the official books, but they showed up: books of poetry, books of stories, books of memories.
These books were not officially recognized, any more than the underaged children who were taught to ride bicycles. The official rules, at least, had not changed... and probably wouldn't for a long time yet.
The Old woman, named Sarah, waited patiently as Fiona carefully wrote out the words on her paper. "All right," Fiona said. "Please go on."
"Well," Sarah continued, "the tree was all covered in lights--beautiful, I tell you--and there were boxes wrapped in colored paper beneath it. There was a fire crackling in the... ah, yes, it was called a fireplace, which seems appropriate enough. It seemed dangerous, but no one was hurt, and it was wonderful to watch how it flickered, orange and gold."
"Orange...and...gold... okay, I've got it."
The slow appearance (or, perhaps, return) of color had been one of the more obvious of the things to happen in the Community after Jonas had disappeared.
"There was an animal, too. A dog, with long brown fur... it was sleeping, curled up in front of the fire, the lazy thing. And a family--not just parents and children, but the parents-of-the-parents..."
Fiona listened, and wrote, carefully recording the memory as Sarah told it.
"It was one of the loveliest I've had," said the Old woman. "So many awful ones... but the good ones always make up for it, don't they?"
Fiona smiled. "They do."
That evening, after her shift was over, she returned to her own dwelling. It felt a bit empty--she still wasn't quite used to living on her own. Perhaps she should apply for a spouse...
But that could wait until later.
She read through the papers she had written that day--three memories, duly recorded. Two of them had been good, and one had been terrible--a memory of a terrible plague, and a child weeping for his parents. The man who had told it had to stop several times while telling it, and Fiona had held his hand as he cried.
Yes, things had certainly changed.
She reread her papers carefully, then copied them onto a second set of papers. This second set she placed in a box, to be delivered to the unofficial publishers.
Tomorrow, before she went to her job, she would take the originals and stop by Jonas's old dwelling, where the young Storyteller-to-be lived.
Since there had not been a Storyteller to teach Lily, Jonas's sister, for the most part, had needed to train herself. She had always had a vivid imagination, and as she had grown older, she had also become an excellent listener--a definite asset, nowadays.
Some of the adults of the Community still seemed to do their best to ignore the fact that things had changed. Though they might be found weeping, they would shrug off any attempts at comfort and any suggestions that they try to talk about it.
Perhaps some never would accept the fact that Sameness was fading.
Jonas's parents seemed to be among this group. They were unfailingly polite when Fiona visited, and thanked her for helping Lily with her Assignment. But Fiona had never once heard them mention Jonas's name, or even acknowledge that they had ever had a son.
"They never officially made Jonas a Name-Not-To-Be-Spoken," Lily had confided, once, "but Mother and Father act like it was. So do a lot of people. I miss Jonas, very much... I can't even talk about him, or they find a way to change the subject. It's frustrating."
"I miss him too," Fiona had replied.
She talked about him, sometimes, with Lily or with Asher.
She knew, intellectually, that Jonas was probably gone forever, and had died somewhere. And yet...
She had the strangest sense that he was still out there, alive.
It was a foolish idea, and yet... she couldn't shake it.
There was an image in her mind, far fainter than one of the memories that had come after Jonas left, but still etched into Fiona's thoughts: a sled, rushing downhill, with two people on it... heading towards somewhere beautiful, full of love and warmth.
Someday, Fiona thought, the Community will be that place.
Slowly, but surely, things were changing.
Humming quietly, she put her things away and began to prepare dinner.