The Giver

Page 16

 

  "You could go look in the Hall of Open Records. Youd find the names. But think, son. If you apply for children, then who will be their parents-of-the-parents? Who will be their grandparents?"

  "My mother and father, of course. "

  "And where will they be?"

  Jonas thought. "Oh," he said slowly. "When I finish my training and become a full adult, Ill be given my own dwelling. And then when Lily does, a few years later, shell get her own dwelling, and maybe a spouse, and children if she applies for them, and then Mother and Father—"

  "Thats right. "

  "As long as theyre still working and contributing to the community, theyll go and live with the other Childless Adults. And they wont be part of my life anymore.

  "And after that, when the time comes, theyll go to the House of the Old," Jonas went on. He was thinking aloud. "And theyll be well cared for, and respected, and when theyre released, there will be a celebration. "

  "Which you wont attend," The Giver pointed out.

  "No, of course not, because I wont even know about it. By then Ill be so busy with my own life. And Lily will, too. So our children, if we have them, wont know who their parents-of-parents are, either.

  "It seems to work pretty well that way, doesnt it? The way we do it in our community?" Jonas asked. "I just didnt realize there was any other way, until I received that memory. "

  "It works," The Giver agreed.

  Jonas hesitated. "I certainly liked the memory, though. I can see why its your favorite. I couldnt quite get the word for the whole feeling of it, the feeling that was so strong in the room. "

  "Love," The Giver told him.

  Jonas repeated it. "Love. " It was a word and concept new to him.

  They were both silent for a minute. Then Jonas said, "Giver?"

  "Yes?"

  "I feel very foolish saying this. Very, very foolish. "

  "No need. Nothing is foolish here. Trust the memories and how they make you feel. "

  "Well," Jonas said, looking at the floor, "I know you dont have the memory anymore, because you gave it to me, so maybe you wont understand this—"

  "I will. I am left with a vague wisp of that one; and I have many other memories of families, and holidays, and happiness. Of love. "

  Jonas blurted out what he was feeling. "I was thinking that . . . well, I can see that it wasnt a very practical way to live, with the Old right there in the same place, where maybe they wouldnt be well taken care of, the way they are now, and that we have a better-arranged way of doing things. But anyway, I was thinking, I mean feeling, actually, that it was kind of nice, then. And that I wish we could be that way, and that you could be my grandparent. The family in the memory seemed a little more—" He faltered, not able to find the word he wanted.

  "A little more complete," The Giver suggested.

  Jonas nodded. "I liked the feeling of love," he confessed. He glanced nervously at the speaker on the wall, reassuring himself that no one was listening. "I wish we still had that," he whispered. "Of course," he added quickly, "I do understand that it wouldnt work very well. And that its much better to be organized the way we are now. I can see that it was a dangerous way to live. "

  "What do you mean?"

  Jonas hesitated. He wasnt certain, really, what he had meant. He could feel that there was risk involved, though he wasnt sure how. "Well," he said finally, grasping for an explanation, "they had fire right there in that room. There was a fire burning in the fireplace. And there were candles on a table. I can certainly see why those things were outlawed.

  "Still," he said slowly, almost to himself, "I did like the light they made. And the warmth. "

  "Father? Mother?" Jonas asked tentatively after the evening meal. "I have a question I want to ask you. "

  "What is it, Jonas?" his father asked.

  He made himself say the words, though he felt flushed with embarrassment. He had rehearsed them in his mind all the way home from the Annex.

  "Do you love me?"

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Father gave a little chuckle. "Jonas. You, of all people. Precision of language, please!"

  "What do you mean?" Jonas asked. Amusement was not at all what he had anticipated.

  "Your father means that you used a very generalized word, so meaningless that its become almost obsolete," his mother explained carefully.

  Jonas stared at them. Meaningless? He had never before felt anything as meaningful as the memory.

  "And of course our community cant function smoothly if people dont use precise language. You could ask, Do you enjoy me? The answer is Yes," his mother said.

  "Or," his father suggested, "Do you take pride in my accomplishments? And the answer is wholeheartedly Yes. "

  "Do you understand why its inappropriate to use a word like love?" Mother asked.

  Jonas nodded. "Yes, thank you, I do," he replied slowly.

  It was his first lie to his parents.

  "Gabriel?" Jonas whispered that night to the newchild. The crib was in his room again. After Gabe had slept soundly in Jonass room for four nights, his parents had pronounced the experiment a success and Jonas a hero. Gabriel was growing rapidly, now crawling and giggling across the room and pulling himself up to stand. He could be upgraded in the Nurturing Center, Father said happily, now that he slept; he could be officially named and given to his family in December, which was only two months away.

  But when he was taken away, he stopped sleeping again, and cried in the night.

  So he was back in Jonass sleepingroom. They would give it a little more time, they decided. Since Gabe seemed to like it in Jonass room, he would sleep there at night a little longer, until the habit of sound sleep was fully formed. The Nurturers were very optimistic about Gabriels future.

  There was no answer to Jonass whisper. Gabriel was sound asleep.

  "Things could change, Gabe," Jonas went on. "Things could be different. I dont know how, but there must be some way for things to be different. There could be colors.

  "And grandparents," he added, staring through the dimness toward the ceiling of his sleepingroom. "And everybody would have the memories.

  "You know about memories," he whispered, turning toward the crib.

  Gabriels breathing was even and deep. Jonas liked having him there, though he felt guilty about the secret. Each night he gave memories to Gabriel: memories of boat rides and picnics in the sun; memories of soft rainfall against windowpanes; memories of dancing barefoot on a damp lawn.

  "Gabe?"

  The newchild stirred slightly in his sleep. Jonas looked over at him.

  "There could be love," Jonas whispered.

  The next morning, for the first time, Jonas did not take his pill. Something within him, something that had grown there through the memories, told him to throw the pill away.

  17

  TODAY IS DECLARED AN UNSCHEDULED HOLIDAY. Jonas, his parents, and Lily all turned in surprise and looked at the wall speaker from which the announcement had come. It happened so rarely, and was such a treat for the entire community when it did. Adults were exempted from the days work, children from school and training and volunteer hours. The substitute Laborers, who would be given a different holiday, took over all the necessary tasks: nurturing, food delivery, and care of the Old; and the community was free.

  Jonas cheered, and put his homework folder down. He had been about to leave for school. School was less important to him now; and before much more time passed, his formal schooling would end. But still, for Twelves, though they had begun their adult training, there were the endless lists of rules to be memorized and the newest technology to be mastered.

  He wished his parents, sister, and Gabe a happy day, and rode down the bicycle path, looking for Asher.

  He had not taken the pills, now, for four weeks. The Stirrings had returned, and he felt a little guilty and embarrassed about the pleasurable dreams that came to him as
he slept. But he knew he couldnt go back to the world of no feelings that he had lived in so long.

  And his new, heightened feelings permeated a greater realm than simply his sleep. Though he knew that his failure to take the pills accounted for some of it, he thought that the feelings came also from the memories. Now he could see all of the colors; and he could keep them, too, so that the trees and grass and bushes stayed green in his vision. Gabriels rosy cheeks stayed pink, even when he slept. And apples were always, always red.

  Now, through the memories, he had seen oceans and mountain lakes and streams that gurgled through woods; and now he saw the familiar wide river beside the path differently. He saw all of the light and color and history it contained and carried in its slow-moving water; and he knew that there was an Elsewhere from which it came, and an Elsewhere to which it was going.

  On this unexpected, casual holiday he felt happy, as he always had on holidays; but with a deeper happiness than ever before. Thinking, as he always did, about precision of language, Jonas realized that it was a new depth of feelings that he was experiencing. Somehow they were not at all the same as the feelings that every evening, in every dwelling, every citizen analyzed with endless talk.

  "I felt angry because someone broke the play area rules," Lily had said once, making a fist with her small hand to indicate her fury. Her family—Jonas among them—had talked about the possible reasons for rule-breaking, and the need for understanding and patience, until Lilys fist had relaxed and her anger was gone.

  But Lily had not felt anger, Jonas realized now. Shallow impatience and exasperation, that was all Lily had felt. He knew that with certainty because now he knew what anger was. Now he had, in the memories, experienced injustice and cruelty, and he had reacted with rage that welled up so passionately inside him that the thought of discussing it calmly at the evening meal was unthinkable.

  "I felt sad today," he had heard his mother say, and they had comforted her.

  But now Jonas had experienced real sadness. He had felt grief. He knew that there was no quick comfort for emotions like those.

  These were deeper and they did not need to be told. They were felt.

  Today, he felt happiness.

  "Asher!" He spied his friends bicycle leaning against a tree at the edge of the playing field. Nearby, other bikes were strewn about on the ground. On a holiday the usual rules of order could be disregarded.

  He skidded to a stop and dropped his own bike beside the others. "Hey, Ash!" he shouted, looking around. There seemed to be no one in the play area. "Where are you?"

  "Psssheeewwww!" A childs voice, coming from behind a nearby bush, made the sound. "Pow! Pow! Pow!"

  A female Eleven named Tanya staggered forward from where she had been hiding. Dramatically she clutched her stomach and stumbled about in a zig-zag pattern, groaning. "You got me!" she called, and fell to the ground, grinning.

  "Blam!"

  Jonas, standing on the side of the playing field, recognized Ashers voice. He saw his friend, aiming an imaginary weapon in his hand, dart from behind one tree to another. "Blam! Youre in my line of ambush, Jonas! Watch out!"