III

They never told my parents what happened.

Why would they? For all they knew, I just bumped my head and I'd overreacted. I eventually stopped crying, and they did a scan of my head without finding any problems. They saw no reason to concern my parents. I was fine.

But I most certainly was not fine. That pill left a thirst in me, an insatiable hunger for more real emotions, where I could truly feel something. Simon let me have the ones he didn't want that much. He told me that once, long ago, people had feelings like that all the time.

I couldn't even imagine having such strong emotions every second of every day.

To get the pills, Simon was very generous with me. Or so he told me. All I had to do was satisfy his pill rants. When he took Grief, I had to comfort him. When he took Jealousy, I complimented him. When he took Anger, I had to argue with him. When he took Fury, I had to let him hit me. He never touched any part of me that showed. He mostly hit things like my stomach. Simon never forgot to remind me every day how lucky I was, to be getting at least one pill every time we had time with Child Guides.

For three days, I waited impatiently every single day until we were finally released to the study hall, where I knew I'd get one of those beautiful, shiny pills. My body was already having little shaking attacks, craving those beautiful, shiny capsules, and a little worry thought nagged me from the back of my head. Tomorrow was a rest day; how could I possibly go a day without the pills?

When I got to the corner, Simon was already there, unwrapping the packaging. I grabbed my chair and sat on the edge, waiting, as he opened the container and examined the little pills.

"I don't really feel like Jealousy today." he mused, holding up the little green pill. "You can have it." I held out my palms eagerly, and he handed it to me. I stared at the little pill, then slowly slipped it into my pocket, to save it for tomorrow. It would be better to save it. I could hold off the capsules for today.

"Have you ever seen Hatred?" Simon asked me, and I shook my head, no. Victor took a lot of the pills at home, by himself. I never saw him cry, because he avoided the ones like Pain and Loneliness, until he was alone. He picked out the black one, then snapped the container shut, slipping it into his pocket.

"Come on." Victor took me over to the small closet, where he sometimes locked me in, when he'd taken Cruelty, and turn off the lights. "Lock me in, and don't let me out until the hour's over. Hatred lasts the longest, and it's the strongest and best of all emotions. It's too dangerous to have me out and about on Hatred. Got it?" I nodded, and he went into the closet.

"Don't even think about leaving me here." Simon warned, and swallowed the pill. I shut the door quickly, locking it, and heard a few things were knocked about, probably Simon's body reacting to the capsule.

I could hear his breathing quicken, and he suddenly hit the door. I jumped, and checked the lock to make sure it was in. He rattled the doorknob, then pounded the door again.

"Samantha! Let me out!" his yelling was muffled by the door, but I still bit my nails nervously, for fear of someone coming back here. I don't know what I'd do if somebody came, with Simon on pills.

"Let me out now!" Simon viciously kicked the door, and I slid down the smooth surface to sitting on the ground against the door.

"I knew you wouldn't do it." he snarled. "You're worthless, Tiny, just like everyone else. Weak, spineless, taking whatever they throw at you like mindless sheep on their way to the slaughterhouse. You hear me, Tiny? You're weak. You don't even know what's really going on, because you can't see the big picture. You can't see how we're tricked, every day, into doing what they want. That means you're weak. Worthless, pathetic!"

Tears slid down my face, and I put my hands over my ears, but I still knew that Simon was in there, spewing poison and lies.

Or were they lies?

Nobody had ever given me any advice on me as a person, negative or positive. What if Simon was right? Was I really weak?

I had to do extra recreational time, because the teachers said I wasn't at approved physical condition. Sometimes, I finished my workbooks before others, and got reprimanded for breaking the regulations.

What if I was just a mistake?

Brring.

The bell to go back rang, and I quickly jumped up, popped the lock open, and ran, grabbing my pack, past all the EST's, wiping my eyes, all the way back to my class, and found Terrance. He looked at me.

"Have you been crying?" he asked with mild interest.

"No." I lied as Teacher did a head count.

"Okay." Terrance nodded and faced the front again. Teacher clapped her hands then started out of the study hall, and all followed in our ranks.

I glanced back at the other class, that Simon was just joining. The other Teacher reprimanded him for being late, and he flashed a winning smile and said something, most likely a lie. Just before I passed through the door, his eyes found mine, and he gave a menacing smile.

I swallowed, and kept walking.

That night, Mother got a message. Her own mother, my grandmother, was about to Pass. Tomorrow, we were to go to the Senior Residential Area to be with her one last time before she Passed the day after that. They didn't expect us to be there when it happened, but they encouraged one visit to say goodbye.

"We'll go tomorrow." Mother declared, and Father nodded.

I'd seen Grandmother once, at a public gathering, when Mother pointed her out to me.

"That's my mother." she had told me, pointing to a woman with a tired, stooped figure, and a thin body that you could see had once been very big, way bigger than the approved conditions.

But I thought no more of it. Seeing your parents' parents wasn't a very common thing. Father's father had Passed when I was very young, and all I remember was afterwards, as we walked out of the room, where Father folded his arms as he walked and said, "Well, that's the end of that."

"They said that the new addition comes on Thursday." Father suddenly announced.

"Excellent." Mother responded, and everything was quiet again, until evening meal came. I had been jumpy and excitable all morning, but the DNS helped to calm me down enough to fall asleep.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

"Welcome." the woman at the counter smiled at us. "How may I help you?"

"We're here to visit an Agnes, room 138." Father spoke, and the smallest flicker of displeasure flashed across her face before she regained her composure.

"Of course, he will show you the way." she gestured towards a man that had appeared out of nowhere, dressed in the Senior Residential Area's standard worker clothing. He smiled.

"Right in here." he stepped into a Building Transport Pod, and we followed him.

Fwick.

The doors shut behind us very fast, so fast that it barely made any sound at all.

Cli-click, beep.

The man entered something into the computer, then scanned his card, the little beep announcing a valid card.

Sssss.

The locks on the BTP released, and I assumed we were moving, although I couldn't feel it. We stood in silence, waiting as we sped along the tunnels.

"May I ask what the purpose of your visit is?" the man asked politely.

"My mother is to Pass this week." Mother told him. "We're here to visit her."

"Congratulations on her Passing." the man said.

"Thank you." Mother replied.

For the first time in my life, I looked at their conversation and began to think. Why would he say congratulations? Wasn't Mother sad that she was going to lose her mother? If Mother ever died, I would probably take a Grief pill. I'm not really sure why, but that emotion seemed like it was meant for when you lost things.

Fer-shick.

The small sound let us know that the BTP had locked into place, and that the ride was over.

Fwick.

The door flashed open, revealing long, white halls, with lots of uniformly white doors. It was silent and deserted, mostly like our own Residential Area, only that our Residential area was usually a grey color.

"Right this way." the man started down the hallway.

My parents started up an idle chat with the worker, and I lagged behind, slowly counting the doors as we passed them - 119, 120, 121, 122 - all neatly inscribed on little grey plates fastened to the white doors. Each door also had a shiny silver lock on the outside. Some were firmly fastened.

"Here we are." the man announced. Room 138.

Inside, we could hear shouting, and sudden loud crash. An old man, accompanied by a worker, slowly walked by. At the loud crash, he chuckled softly.

"Old Agnes is at it again." he said softly.

Psh-tck.

Our worker slid the tiny metal ball in the lock from the locked position to the unlocked position, and looked at us.

"I should tell you....." he hesitated.

"I know how unpredictable my mother is." Mother said curtly, and he nodded, opening the door. The shouting became loud and clear, and we all went in, hearing the door close and lock behind us.

We went down a small, cramped hallway, entering the main room. An old woman, just as thin and stooped as I remembered, was on one side on the bed, a pillow in her hand. A worker was on the other side, and what looked like a DNS smoothie clutched in her hand.

"I won't take it!" the old woman yelled. "Throw it away, or I'll throw this!"

"Agnes, don't." the worker spoke firmly and calmly. "You'll spill this lovely drink. Now, please, just drink it."

"Lovely?" the old woman snorted. "Not likely. I won't drink it, and you can't make me, you robot! Get out!"

"I can't leave until you-" the worker suddenly stopped, and cocked her head as if listening to something, probably through her ear implant. Everyone got one when they reached their fifteenth year.

"I suppose you can skip it today." the worker finally spoke, and lowered the thick blue drink.

"Thank you." the old woman said, but didn't really sound like she meant it. It was an over exaggerated, oozing way of speaking, that kind of made you feel like she was being mean instead of nice.

"Oh, are you here to visit?" the worker asked sweetly, just noticing us.

"Yes, I'm here to visit my mother." Mother responded.

"Well, look at who decided to show up." the old woman's voice was pointed and sharp. "My dear daughter. How I've missed your wonderful company."

"Thank you. I've missed you too." Mother told her.

"I was being sarcastic, Botty dear." she snorted, then folded her arms, turning her attention back to the worker. "By the way, Little Miss Drug Dealer, I have a message from the queen. Get the hell out of my room." She pointed a gnarled finger at the exit, and the worker left.

"Mother, what does 'hell' mean?" I tugged on her uniform, whispering.

"I'm not sure, but when I was younger, she used it when she was upset. I wouldn't use it." Mother told me.

"Well, well, well." the old woman's voice cut me like a knife. "Looky here. It's my granddaughter, if I could even call her that."

"Of course she's your granddaughter. Why wouldn't she be?" Mother asked.

"Well, for one thing, she wasn't made the natural way. She's an emotionless shell, just like you, Botty." the old woman harrumphed, and climbed into her bed.

"I'm sorry, Grandmother." I said politely, as you should always address your elders with respect.

"Ooh, look at her! She's so fine and proper! You should be proud of her!" she taunted, sounding a lot like Simon. "Don't call me Grandma, kid. Call me Agnes."

"Call you by your first name?" I was aghast. That went against every courtesy lesson I'd ever had in school. She rolled her eyes and turned her attention back to Mother and Father.

"You two, leave. I don't even wanna see you two. I've been through too much to have to deal with your baggage. I'm too old." she snarled.

"We came to visit you, before you Passed." Father said calmly.

"Oh, so Passed, is it? That's what they're calling dying nowadays?"

They continued to talk, with the old woman, or Agnes, I supposed, using strange words like 'sarcastic,' 'queen,' 'wanna,' 'nowadays,' and 'dying.' I carefully stored them away in my memory, in case I needed them someday, and wandered over to the shelves in the corner.

Unlike most shelves in residential areas, there was nothing on the metal slots that looked Government-Approved. I didn't see the three designated Decorations, the family photo document, or any of the ten books. Instead, there was a strange assortment of items I'd never seen before.

What looked like a small human girl sat in the corner of one shelf, dressed in a strange uniform that opened at the bottom, and wore unnecessary color and design. I tapped her skin; hard and smooth, but it wasn't metal. Her face was delicate and pure, pretty to look at, but not very practical, framed by long brown hair that had odd twists in it. I tugged at the twisted parts, pulling them straight, and watched them spring back into place. I'd never seen hair with twists in it. Everyone I'd ever seen had normal, straight hair.

Three whole shelves were devoted to huge books, but none of them were the ten Government approved set. Could there possibly be even more books than those ten? They all had strange titles, like Shakespeare, Les Miserables, Anna Kerenina, Moby Dick, Earth History, and other words that I'd never even seen before.

But the most intriguing item on the wall was a simple wooden box, gathering dust, forgotten in the corner. As they argued in the background, I slowly picked up the box, turning it in my hands and hearing something rattle inside.

I carefully lifted the lid, to find the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. There was a small disk, a yellowish color, but a darker shade that sparkled and glowed, twisted into a shape I'd never seen before. The shape was made of two curved parts on top, that led down to a point at the end. A strange slender chain, the same color, was connected to the shape on both sides of the chain, creating a loop. What's the use of a chain, I wondered. If you can't attach it to anything?

 Picking up the object, I discovered that the shape was in fact two shapes stacked on top of each other, connected with a hinge on the side, like it was supposed to open. I slid my fingernail into the break, and it suddenly popped open.

A beautiful sound flew out, a sound that couldn't even be described, with continuing, harmonious volumes that intermingled and swayed back and forth. Mesmerized, I became deaf to everything else, only hearing those bewitching, dancing sounds. 

I was so engrossed in the beautiful sounds, that I didn’t even notice the sudden silence behind me.

When it finally ended, I slowly closed it, then prepared to open it again, before a voice stopped me.

“What are you doing?” Agnes’s voice asked behind me, not sounding at all cross, but I was so scared that I dropped the precious object.

“Samantha, you know better than to go through other people’s possessions.” Mother scolded me, and came over. “I thought we’d raised you better than that.” she tsked as she shut the wonderful thing back in it’s dusty box and putting it back on the shelf.

“We’ll be off now.” Father told Agnes, and started for the door.

“Come along Samantha.” Mother ordered me curtly, and I slowly lagged behind, giving one last look at that old box.

“No, wait!” Agnes suddenly shouted, and we turned, surprised. She was standing in the hallway, staring at me with the queerest expression.

“Wha-” she swallowed. “Why were you looking in my things?”

“I’m sorry.” I flushed. “I-I didn’t mean to touch your things. They were just so.......pretty.”

“You thought they were pretty?” Agnes bent down in front of me, staring at me with her vivid green eyes. “You......you were curious about them?”

“I don’t know what that means.” I looked up at Mother, then back at Agnes. “I’m sorry I touched your things.”

“No, no.....it’s fine, fine.” she whispered, staring intently at me before suddenly standing up. “Go, leave.” she ordered, and Father opened the door. The male worker who’d escorted us here was waiting outside. They both went for the door, and I began to follow, when Agnes suddenly placed a firm hand on my shoulder.

“No.......” Agnes’s voice quavered. “No, not you. You stay.”

“Mother, she can’t stay. You’re going to Pass in three days. You can’t keep a child.” Mother said, irritated.

“I said, she’s staying.” Agnes spoke firmly. “She - Samantha, was it? - is going to stay with me, until I......until I Pass.”

“You aren’t allowed to keep children.” Father told her.

“I don’t care.” Agnes sounded very angry now, and moved in front of me. “She’s staying with me. Ask anybody. They’ll let me. Ask......ask Thomas Long. He’ll say it’s allowed.”

“Thomas Long?” Mother asked. “But he’s a member of the Government. How do you know him?” I didn’t know the name, but I knew he was important. People with two names were usually very special.

"That's not important now, is it?" Agnes snapped. "Call him. Call him right now."

"We don't really call people anymore, Agnes." the worker said soothingly, taking a step forward. "Now, why don't you-"

"Stop treating me like I'm crazy." the old woman snarled. "Now back off, before I break your fingers off." There was awkward silence for a while, after the worker hastily retreated, when Agnes suddenly gasped.

"Oh! Come with me!" she grabbed my hand and dragged me over to her shelves, and began to dig through all the clutter.

"Where is it, where is it......" she mumbled to herself, searching, opening and throwing things about until her hand grasped a small piece of paper.

"A-ha!" she crowed triumphantly, and rushed over to the room's main computer.

"Agnes, really!" the worker followed us, looking quite annoyed, but Agnes ignored him, typing numbers into the computer. "I've had it up to here with your disruptive behavior. If you continue to refuse us your cooperation, I'll be forced to-"

Suddenly, the screen lit up, showing waves and waves of numbers and code, moving at alarming rates.

Blip.

The screen went fuzzy, then a man's face popped up, who looked at us with surprise.

"Thomas Long!" the worker gasped, and the man in the screen peered at us. He was old, at least as old as Agnes, a shiny bald head, a wrinkled face, and tired blue eyes.

"How in the Ruler's name did you get this channel? It's private." the old man snapped, and I instantly disliked him.

"I'm so s-sorry, sir, it won't happen again, I'm so very-" the worker babbled before Agnes cut him off.

"Yeah, it was me who got the channel." she spoke loudly, and Thomas Long looked at her very intently.

"Do I know you?" he asked carefully.

"I don't know, Tommy Boy, do you?" Agnes crossed her arms. The old man, who had been absentmindedly shuffling papers, suddenly froze. He swallowed.

"What....." he whispered. "What did you call me?"

"Tommy Boy, of course. Have you forgotten your own name?" Agnes smiled, crossing her arms, as Thomas scrutinized her with a horrified expression.

"Tria?" he murmurs the name like he's in some horrible nightmare, and stares at his desk without seeing anything on it.

"Good job, TB, you recognized me." Agnes congratulated him sweetly.

"But.....but I thought......" Thomas Long swallowed again. "I thought you were-"

"Dead?" Agnes interrupted. "No, still here. I supposed you and Sockers had forgotten all about me, but obviously Socker's remembered. I'm scheduled to - what was it again? Oh, yes, I'm scheduled to Pass this week. Would you know anything about that?"

"Uh, w-well....It's been very busy and......I guess Harmon just forgot to tell me, because I had no.....I had no idea. I'm-I'd like to, ah, congratulations!" his words tumbled and tripped over each other, and his wrinkled hand dabbed a handkerchief on his forehead.

"Yes, I'm quite excited." Agnes spoke with such underlying rage and menace that I shivered. "Now, TB, this is how it's going to be. I am going to Pass in a few days. You know who's going to be staying with me? This young lady, right here, Miss Samantha. Technically, according to your rules, she's my granddaughter. So, she will be excused from school, she'll spend her days and nights here, you'll take care of the details for me. But she will not leave me, until I am dead." Thomas Long cringed, sinking lower and lower with every blast of sarcasm.

"Um, we-we don't really use that word anymore, Tri-" he cleared his throat and corrected himself. "Agnes."

"Why not? It's not like anybody knows what it means anymore." Agnes said bitterly.

"Agnes, I can't do this."

"Too bad. Cry to someone who cares."

"No, really, Agnes, it's not my jurisdiction. You'd have to apply for a temporary residency change for the child, and frankly, you.....you don't have that kind of time." his voice had faded away to almost nothing, and Agnes glared at him.

"You. Will. Make. This. Happen." she spoke clearly, firmly, and threateningly, and Thomas Long squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his temples.

"Fine, fine!" he exploded. "Fine, I'll do it! Are you happy? Are you happy now?" Both of them stared at each other.

"Happy?" Agnes spoke softly, so quietly that he could barely hear her. "You want to know if I'm happy? Oh, TB, why would you even ask that? You asked if I had something you stole from me, all those years ago. Am I happy?"

I looked up at Agnes's face, and her age finally showed through her tough exterior, a wave of emotion that I'd never seen before, and had only felt with those pills.

"Goodbye, Thomas Long." Agnes whispered, and reached for the termination button.

"No, wait, Aggie, I didn't mean it like-"

Flick.

His face disappeared, leaving a blank screen.

Agnes remained hunched over the computer, her body trembling, then straightened, facing my parents and the worker.

"You heard him." she speaks in a voice that's firm, but desperate. "Get out." My parents looked at each other.

"As long as it's allowed." Mother spoke first. "Good-bye, Samantha." Father gave me a small wave, and they both left.

"I'll go fetch a sleeping mat." the worker told us, and followed them, leaving me alone with a woman I'd barely met.