“You have a spoon or a fork or something embedded in your left buttock.”
“Hilarious. Pull it . . . OW!”
“Sorry, what were you saying?”
And we giggled, then guffawed, then burst out laughing. Inappropriate, given the circumstances, but something of a relief.
“Was it really necessary to have me eaten?” I asked.
“That was Courtland we just got killed, pumpkin, not some poor Delta that no one gives a fig about.”
“Did you just call me pumpkin?”
She scratched her ear nervously. “Is that okay?”
“I suppose. Listen, you could have had yourself eaten.”
“What do you think I am, nuts? Okay, here’s the story: You get captured by a yateveo, and while Courtland is risking his life to slit the bulb and release you, he is grabbed and deposited in the same tree. But because there is no gloop to break his fall, he breaks his neck. Stone dead in an instant.”
“How about that,” I said. “Courtland died a hero.”
“The best lies to tell,” said Jane, “are the ones people want to believe.”
I was lucky that the tree had been relatively young: The barbs were numerous and quite short, as opposed to the other way around. Despite this, my leg and arm were still painful, and the juices stung in my wounds. I was very glad when we finally reached the stream and I could rinse myself off and wring out my clothes. Once done, we began the long walk back to the base of the escarpment and the flak tower.
We didn’t talk for a long time, each of us consumed by our thoughts. It’s confusing to suddenly have to reappraise all you know, to rejigger one’s outlook in the light of new knowledge, and realize that everything you thought was truth and justice was little more than an elaborate fiction. Most of all, I couldn’t help wondering what my mother had suffered that required her to be Mildewed. I was only glad that my father had not been her attendant swatchman.
“Why did they have to kill all the Rebootees?” I asked, finally breaking the silence. “Why not just, well, reeducate them as they claim they do?”
Jane thought for a moment.
“I used to think the most ingenious part of the whole system was how color and mandate were interwoven. The Rules dictate every aspect of our lives, but our devotion to the Spectrum gives them credibility and relevance. But then I got to thinking that perhaps it was all much, much simpler, and that the complexity of the Rules and the strict Chromatic Hierarchy were there to serve a greater master.”
“And what’s that?”
“Continuous sustainability. A community where everyone has their place, everyone knows their place and works ceaselessly to maintain continuance. If you were to dispassionately consider the principal aim of the society to be longevity rather than fairness, then everything is downgraded to simply a means of attaining that goal. Rather than waiting for a resident to prove themselves disharmonious, the system simply flags them early and sends them off to Reboot as a precaution. If you think about it, the whole notion is quite ingenious.”
“I’d be the first to applaud,” I said, “without the murder-of-innocents aspect. But once we tell everyone the truth,” I continued, “Head Office will have to explain itself. After all, the Rules apply to all, irrespective of hue or position. If the headmaster knows of High Saffron, he can be personally held to account.”
“Almost certainly. But Head Office has many defenses. Prefects, Mutual Audit, National Color—and the Nightseers. We’ll have to tread carefully and leave no footprints.”
“But you do have a plan?”
“We did, but without Ochre and Zane I’m not sure where to go. I’m up for Reboot on Monday, but I’ll probably just ride the conveyor to a far-off corner of the Collective and join up with the Riffraff or something.”
“You’ll have seven hundred merits for coming to High Saffron with me,” I pointed out, “which only leaves you a hundred short. Dad owes me a thousand, and Tommo has a sweep going. We can bring you up to full residency with that lot.”
“It would make more sense to still be around,” she mused, and we fell silent for a while as the afternoon was hot, we were in a hurry and it was a lot harder going up the escarpment than coming down.
“So,” I said as we finally rounded the last corner and came within sight of the flak tower, “is there any good news?”
She looked across at me and smiled. “I think the answer is in loopholery. Small changes can be effected by a certain degree of circumvention. We’ll use the Rules to change the Rules.”
“Defiance through compliance?”
She nodded.
“I like the sound of that.”
“How do we put High Saffron out of action?” I asked. “I mean, that’s got to be the first priority, yes?”
“Maybe not. We need to know what we’reup against before we attempt anything.”
“But thousands will die if we don’t do something!”
“And millions will die if we fail. We can’t afford any mistakes, Eddie. How often do you think a Grey with night vision and a potential Red prefect with a conscience find themselves wanting to change things, and together? If we do something rash, or hasty, or ill conceived, we’ll simply be silenced. It may take hundreds of years before another attempt against the system is possible. Careless talk about Pookas killed eighteen hundred people in Rusty Hill. The whole of Green Sector South fell to the Mildew one hundred and seventy-six years ago. What do you think happened for them to earn that? Sedition on a grand scale? Or a single word said out of place? One thing we do know about Head Office is that it’s not noted for its restraint.”
We walked past the flak tower and up to the summit section. We reached the purple tree as the shadows were beginning to lengthen. I’d been walking slower, and we were behind schedule. I only hoped that Tommo would wait for us.
“So what’s your plan?” she asked.
I had been thinking about this. “Stay in East Carmine and become Red prefect.”
She smiled. “With you on the inside and me on the outside,” she said, “we may get to learn something. Formulate a plan. And when the time is right—strike.”
“So life carries on as usual?” I asked.
“Life carries on exactly as usual. Same old Chromatic claptrap, dusk until dawn.”
I suddenly stopped walking.
“What’s up, pumpkin?”
“I can see a snag.”
“A big one?”
“Elephant-sized. I’m expected to marry Violet.”
“Yes, I was wondering when you’d remember that particular nastiness.”
“Jane?”
“Yes?”
“Will you marry me?”
“I thought you were on a promise to Violet?”
“I never agreed anything to anyone.”
“Your dad will veto it.”
“I can persuade him otherwise. And think: It will brown off the deMauves like nothing else on earth.”
“I’m in,” said Jane without hesitation. “I’ll leave the timing of the announcement up to you.”
And we kissed again. It was a warm, indescribably lovely feeling. But it was more than just physical. It was a dialogue between two young people with high ideals and a Big Plan. It was about belonging, secrets, partnership, commitment. It was also a kiss, unlike the last one, that didn’t taste of yateveo gloop. And after we stopped, she just stood there, eyes closed.
“Mmm,” she said, “that was nice. Listen, why didn’t you leg it back home to East Carmine yesterday? I know Violet nixed the whole Constance plan, but you wouldn’t have had to risk High Saffron.”
“Actually,” I said, “it was what Stafford said.”
“Oh, yes?” she asked suspiciously. “And what was that?”
“He said that I should ‘never underestimate the capacity for romance, no matter what the circumstance.’ I think he was referring to you.”
“Fathers!” she snorted. “Does yours meddle, too?”
&nb
sp; “You’re Stafford’s daughter? I thought he was a G-8?”
“He is.”
“But you’re G-23.”
She sighed. “The G-code isn’t a family name. It’s our address.”
“I didn’t know that. But then,” I added, “I never really troubled myself to find out.”
“Don’t worry,” she said, “it’s a Chromatic thing. No one troubles themselves with the Greys. And thanks.”
“For what?”
“A great first date. I really enjoyed myself.”
“For our second date I thought we’d dismantle the entire Collective and replace it with a system run on the principles of fair play, equality and truly harmonious coexistence. What do you say?”
“Teaser!” she replied, and gave me a playful slap on my shoulder.
We ran the last half mile into Bleak Point to find the Model T still there. The sun was already hitting the tops of the hills—if we drove really fast, we might make it back to the dams before the light went completely. We’d still be stuck out at night, but at least closer.
“At last!” said Tommo as we ran up. “Do you know the time? It’s eight o’clock!”
“Thanks for waiting.”
“Waiting nothing,” replied Violet. “Plank-head Cinnabar doesn’t know how to drive.”
“Neither do you.”
“I am a Purple,” Violet replied loftily. “I don’t do that sort of thing.”
Jane ordered Tommo to hand-start the engine, and after five minutes of fruitless cranking, the motor finally coughed to life. Wasting no time, Jane reversed the car and tore off back toward East Carmine as fast as she could.
Return to East Carmine
6.6.19.61.247: Vulgar mispronunciations of everyday words will not be tolerated.
We drove in silence for the first ten minutes, Jane concentrating on getting us home as quick as possible, but without mishap. I was sitting on the flatbed with Tommo, and Jane and Violet were up in the cab, silently ignoring each other. When Jane and I arrived, Tommo had been sitting in the Faraday cage at the side of the road, with Violet positioned on the Ford’s running board facing away from him. She looked beside herself with rage and had doubtless been venting her anger on him for most of the day, which can’t have been a huge bundle of laughs, even with someone like Tommo, who deserved it as much as anyone.
It was lucky that it was a clear evening; navigation might still be possible ten or fifteen minutes after sundown. Jane could have driven us all the way home, of course, but she’d told me she would keep her pupils locked tight and suffer the same woeful lack of night sight as the rest of us. We all knew we weren’t going to make it; the question was how far we would get. But the other unasked question could not be ignored forever, and it was Tommo who finally asked it. “Where’s Courtland?”
“He got taken by a yateveo on the walk back.”
“Wow,” said Tommo. “But you’re okay, right?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’ve no idea how good that makes me feel.”
“Well, thanks, Tommo.”
“Oh, it’s nothing personal,” he said, just in case I misconstrued his meaning. “If both of you had been killed, I would have stood to lose a fortune on my sweep. At least this way I get to break even. And listen,” he added, “that really hurt when you kicked me.”
“And you were going to leave me to starve to death in the flak tower. Do you want to make something of this?”
“No.”
“That Tommo is a reptile,” said Violet. “If I find myself alone with him again I will feed him poison, and accept the consequences.”
“And I’d gladly drink it.”
We drove on down the road, on several occasions running dangerously close to the verge as Jane took the sweeping corners recklessly fast. I looked across at the sun, which was just beginning to touch the hilltops. I turned back and Violet caught my eye, smiled, bit her lip and then attempted some repairs.
“Edward, darling,” she said, “I’m so sorry about what happened early this morning. It was theft of the most malicious kind. But we were all just so worried that you might not have returned, and the deMauve lineage has much benefit to offer the village. You do understand how important that is, don’t you?”
I thought carefully. “I’ll forgive you, Violet, as long as you defer the seven hundred merits you should have earned to Jane Grey here.”
She consented easily to this without looking at Jane, and I asked Tommo to be my witness, to which he readily agreed.
“You are a dear!” said Violet. “I declare our marriage firmly back on—Mummy and Daddy will be delighted.”
“I won’t be marrying you, Violet.”
“I’m only pretending you have a choice to be polite,” she said in a more forceful tone. “In fact, there isn’t a choice at all.”
“I could be on a promise.”
She gave out a short gale of laughter. “No one in the village would dare to offer you a promise while I’m the front-runner,” she declaimed haughtily. “That’s the advantage of having so many people eager to be your friend.”
There was a pause in which she stared at me, and I stared back with an unconcerned look. Then she frowned and glanced at Jane, then at me, and then the penny dropped.
“Oh, no. That is so sad. Please tell me you’re joking.”
“I’m not joking, Violet.”
“I withdraw my pledge of seven hundred merits. Cinnabar, you heard nothing.”
“I most certainly did,” he replied, their argument—whatever it was—still firmly in his mind.
“Listen here, Russett,” said Violet. “If you’re after a bit of youknow on the side, I don’t mind. In fact, you could definitely do with the practice. I’ll even give you the two merits it’ll cost you.” She winced, expecting to be punched—no doubt her intention—but Jane ignored her and just continued to negotiate the turns of the road as we thundered on toward East Carmine.
“I aim to lead a blameless life from now on,” Jane remarked evenly, “tending to my Civil Obligation and my husband.”
Violet made a face.
“Even the thought makes me want to vomit. Jane Russett sitting at High Table with the rest of the prefects? Have you any idea how shabby and nouveau couleur that is?”
Even Tommo was beginning to get concerned.
“Listen,” he said to me, “I’m all for this annoying-Violet game. In fact, I wholeheartedly applaud it. But this is some sort of huge scam, right? You’re holding out for more cash because she tricked you into a harvest? If that’s the case, you need to speak to me to renegotiate. We might up it to twelve grand, but even the deMauves will draw the line eventually.”
“Don’t see me as you, Tommo. I don’t want to marry Violet, I want to marry Jane. I think we should marry who we want. It’s as simple as that.”
“And what about my marriage fantasy league?” he asked. “Do you have any idea how hard I’ve worked on that?”
“Dangles to your stupid league,” interrupted Violet. “What about our baby? Could you really see it growing up to be Doug’s?”
“You tricked me. And if you go public, the deMauves are finished as head prefects. Your family would have to go to Grey and back before they’d be reinstated.”
She fell silent, deep in thought. There was truth in what I said. Although my father and I would also get it in the neck for our involvement, the deMauves had far more to lose.
The sun dipped below the horizon as we reached the first of the dams, and with only ten minutes or so of navigable light left, we weren’t going to make it home. Or at least, not tonight. It would be a cold and lonely night, huddled in the cab, and not helped by Violet, who would doubtless complain volubly until dawn.
“Hey,” said Violet, suddenly changing tack and addressing Jane directly, “would you like to be my friend? I have lots of friends. Some say, in fact, that I have more friends than anyone else in the village.”
“I think I can live quite h
appily without your friendship, Miss Violet.”
“Then I’ll buy him off you,” said Violet impatiently. “How much do you want?”
“He’s not for sale. Not at any price.”
“I can get you a cushy job at the linoleum factory.”
“I’ll be the Red prefect’s wife,” replied Jane coolly. “Why would I want to work there?”
“You’re getting above yourself,” she remarked, her voice rising. “You are horribly arrogant. This is because you think you’ve got a better nose than me, isn’t it?”
Jane turned to look at her.
“I don’t think I’ve got a better nose than you. I know I have a better nose than you. If the arbitrary division by which the Collective is split were set by nose quality rather than color vision, I’d be head prefect.”
“And,” I added, eager to back her up, “if it were run on the basis of who was best at manipulative dishonesty, it would be Tommo.”
“If it were run on those who demonstrated the most smug, pompous, and self-satisfied attitude,” continued Tommo, eager not to be left out, “you’d both run it jointly.”
We traveled on in silence, and as we approached the marshy area where we had seen the flamingos earlier, the light fell abruptly within the valley walls, and Jane slowed to a stop as a wall of impenetrable darkness loomed up in front of us. We could still see the sky, but everything below the line of the ridge was a muddy gloom that seemed to dance and ripple as our eyes attempted to give it some sort of form. I heard Violet swear, then make some comment on how her parents would be sick with worry. But this was as far as we could go without artificial light. Or at least, as far as we were willing to admit we could go.
“Tommo,” I said, “did you steal one of the lightglobes from the flak tower?”
“I got kicked in the ribs,” came a sour voice from the darkness. “My mind was on other matters.”
“I think we should sing,” said Violet after a pause.
“If you do, I’m taking my chances with the night,” retorted Tommo.
And they started to bicker.
“Yewberry gave me three hand flares,” I announced as I rummaged in my bag. “Each one will last five minutes. They might get us as far as the closest dam to the village, and within line of sight. They’ll be keeping an eye out for us, so at least they’ll know we’re all right. Who wants to have a crack at it?”