00
The day that I died was much like the day that I was born.
Rain clouds outside left the dark room smelling of mildew and something sweet. A blistering chill crept in through the weed-infested, dirt-caked floorboards.
Well, most people would call them weeds, reaching up and spreading through cracks, no matter how seemingly strong or impenetrable the foundation. There is a certain beauty to that, I think. A willingness to grow and adapt. To change.
I’m sure they’ll tell you that the world was sick.
They’ll say that Earth had given up years before the Final Abandonment, that over-population, pollution, famine, corruption, and war had been sucking the life out of its core since the dawn of mankind. They’ll say that people couldn’t help themselves, that we were flawed by nature, taking and taking until finally there was nothing left. Everything was gone, everyone was gone. By the time we were able to find another suitable planet for human resettlement, ninety-five percent of the world’s population had perished. So, all remaining survivors boarded a ship, and never looked back toward the planet they had scraped clean and left for scrap.
Now we live in peace, a better version of ourselves than we once were. There would be no more loss; this time things would be different. They had to be different. And so they were.
At least, that’s what they’ll tell you.
Maybe my death was not nearly as dismal as I had once predicted it to be. I lived long enough: a life full of love and beauty, as well as hate and deceit; never enough to sway my path, my purpose. At least I’ve known, once I closed my eyes, that my part was done. I now fall into a long and restful sleep, the ground asks me to give in to its embrace, and I happily oblige, joining the weeds on their way towards the sun.
The rest is up to you.
01
The shadows of early afternoon were short.
This was the most definitive observation one as young as Evelyn could make that might hint to her the time of day. These metrics, along with other, more tedious planetary functions, had not yet been introduced as core learning for students in the Seedery. The Masters said that the oldest scientists on Anastaeden were still young enough to be Earth-born, futzing around in confusion as they perplexed over this un-Earthlike place. They had only just come to a definitive decision regarding temporal measurements, surmising that its introduction to children would only present further challenges if the system were ever to falter. For now, shadows and the sound of a school bell would have to be enough.
By the looks of it, maybe… half past first-bell?
It was still an hour before lunch. Evelyn, herself, was puzzled as to how it had taken them this long to discover the most trivial of facts, what with the preemptive environmental surveys conducted before this planet had even been considered a candidate for sustaining human life. What an odd thought. Had they simply jumped ship praying for their eyes to not melt from their skulls?
Surely not.
It seemed as though the attention of all newer STEAMs was continuing to stray farther and farther from the necessities that Earth-borns still appeared to consider so vital.
The sky was the brightest it would be all day. Barely any clouds reached over the forest’s peak, a rare sight, just an endless expanse of lilac near-nothingness stretching on. Apparently, on Earth, before the air was too heavily polluted by fires and industrial smog to make out the handle of the big dipper, the sky had been blue. But the atmosphere here was different, thickened by water vapor and a slightly greater concentration of nitrogen.
Is that right?
Perhaps she had it written down in her notes somewhere. She always wondered which color she’d have liked better.
Blue or purple, blue or purple—
Phoebe nudged her arm in warning. Ed Ivy had stopped discussing the values of resource partitioning within the communities residing outside of Garden boundaries. Now she stood still, arms crossed, looking towards the two unassuming girls in the back row of a small, sparsely ornamented classroom.
“Evelyn,” she said, irritation apparent in her tone, “since you have found such interest in the intricacies of your window, you must already know the correct portioning fraction of grain-based food when distributed to people sixty-five and older. Would you care to share with the class?”
Ivy’s reputation preceded her: perhaps the strictest Sprout Educator, that is, in terms of likelihood to deduct points from a student’s discipline score for… minor insubordination. No transgression, whether an untucked collar or a wandering eye, nothing got past that vulturous gaze. Not to mention her evident disdain for one particular student who, recently, had been unable to keep her mind from floating about at inopportune times.
“Um—” Evelyn began, taking a moment to consider.
She was, as it happened, stuck. The question was all wrong. For one, it hadn’t taken into account the time of year. Much like Earth, Anasteden was split into season-like periods; variation in rainfall and temperature was dictated by planetary positioning. Consequently, different times of year offered different crop yields, meaning there would occur instances in which those in older age groups must be considered with greater care. Along with that, average percent body fat differed between genders, meaning it would take less of one thing to maintain the health of an able-bodied woman than it would an able-bodied man.
But Ivy would have known this. Educators were required to have the community Manuscript memorized forward and back before advancing past the Nursery Towers and into Vocation. Ivy was attempting to make an example of her.
“I don’t know, miss.” Evelyn capitulated that feigning ignorance rather than challenging the knowledge of an Ed would garner her less trouble in the future. If this unexpected surrender took Ivy off pace, she did not let it show. Instead she let out a sigh, rubbing at her temples.
“Please see me after class.”
Evelyn resisted the urge to roll her eyes as a snicker bounced through the room. This event was going to put her Education score on thin ice; better to not risk the points she’d only recently raked in for Demeanor.
The rest of class went as usual. All the Sprout Eds tended to focus their curriculum on community building, leadership, and dispute management, whereas Seeds were just beginning to read and write coherently, as well as calculate simple algebra. Not until you reached the Nursery Towers were you separated into specific areas of study: a Vocation.
Each of the four disciplines were assigned their own space for initial practice and refinement: First was the Science, Technology, Engineering, Agriculture and Medicine practicum tower, also known as STEAM. It was nearest the infirmary, likely due to its higher incident rate among Saplings working in the chemical labs, among other things. They were primarily in charge of maintaining the infrastructure and health of The Garden and surrounding outer-communities.
Next was Law and Order, or as most Sprouts and older Seeds liked to call it, the Stick Factory, on account of the… more prudish type that tended to frequent these areas of study. Once graduated from this tower, new Masters had the choice to stay within The Garden’s walls, assisting in upholding the Manuscript as well as enforcing proper punishment among those who choose to ignore such guidelines, or they might choose to take a more “hands-on” role outside, maintaining order in outer communities. Earth-born Eds often equated them to what they once called cops and lawyers, old roles that had since been reshaped to better fulfill the needs of a new, more advanced era in human existence.
The third tower was Education and Childcare, though most referred to it as Pre-Ed. There, Saps were trained in basic mathematics, physical sciences, history, and literature in order to set a precedent for younger generations beginning to explore where their skills might be best applied for the betterment of the entire society. They were also taught to provide childcare to Seeds as prior receiving their first Betterment Procedure at the age of ten they were still considered dependents. One would often see these Saps wading through classrooms, learning from Eds, or in the childcare center becoming accustomed to long hours surrounded by nothing but whining babies and sticky toddlers.
Last, and most difficult to place into, was Leadership and Community Building. Those chosen to advance in this practicum were usually the most amicable among their peers. They were top-ranking students, most suited to grab the reins of the next generation while also guiding the population through the delicate years of early establishment following the final Abandoning of Earth. They are also in charge of all historical record keeping in and out of the school. Evelyn could hardly keep herself from drooling at the thought of endless, unrestricted, original copies of books written by authors born far away from here.
“Evelyn!” Ivy snapped.
How long has she been calling my name?
Before she had a chance to respond, a pink sticky note stuck to her desk caught Evelyn’s gaze.
I’ll save you a seat in rec once you’re finished getting yelled at 🙂 —P
She felt a light flush rising in her cheeks at the sight of the familiar handwriting, but there was little time to be giddy as her attention was pulled once again by a rising sense of impatience radiating from Ivy’s twitching brow.
“Do you know what the point reduction is for repetitive inattentiveness during lecture?”
She grimaced, because of course she knew: one mark for an initial offence, three for a second, and for a third—
“Ten marks,” Ivy announced. Was that a hint of glee in her voice? She definitely did not like Evelyn. “If I am not mistaken, you were only five points away from completing your Education and Leadership sectors. Your behavior as of recent has surely put quite the damper on your little speed-run of The Seedery.”
Wait a minute. “I apologize ma’am, perhaps I misunderstand, but what do you mean by Education and Leadership? Absentmindedness during lessons only prompts a demerit on my Education score.”
Ivy cocked an eyebrow. Amused, perhaps. “Well, your demerit in Leadership is on another account entirely, dear. A Miss Avery Sapling reported one Evelyn Sprout interacting and ‘playing’ with a Seed just around a span ago.”
Evelyn recoiled.
That Stick bitch!
Avery, a current Sap recruited to the Law and Order tower, had been a particularly prominent and disruptive force in Evelyn’s life since her early years in The Planter. Back then they had been good friends, but when Avery moved on to Sprouts, something changed. It was as if she had become a completely different person, one that no longer had any interest in continuing a friendship with a student younger than herself.
Once Evelyn had passed into Sprouts three years later, a year earlier than most, she was already considered an outcast among her peers, the other kids finding her rapid progression through The Garden to be an open threat on their own future placements. She’d figured that Avery would have been a welcome break from the endless glares and harassment, but this assumption could not have been less true. She was the worst of them all. Even after everyone else had forgotten Evelyn’s existence as her presence faded into the masses, Avery continued to make her life a living hell for the next four years, until finally, she passed her placement exam and moved on to her Nursery tower. Evelyn had thought the torment was over. Had she learned nothing?
Of course the separation of a mere grade level would not deter Avery’s venomous bite.
“Miss,” Evelyn began. Shit, what to do. The effort of keeping the increasing panic and anger from her voice made the words come out quieter than intended. “with all due respect, that boy was being harassed by the other kids and Care Takers weren’t stepping in and—”
“Enough!” Unbeknownst to Evelyn, Ivy had closed the distance to an arm’s length as she rambled. “There is an excerpt to which I have no doubt you are familiar:
“‘Do not interact or socialize with those outside your class. Any student found breaking this rule will gain a strike towards transfer and will have ten marks revoked from their Leadership score for failing to set a proper example for their fellow peers, thus encouraging further disobedience and possible anarchy.’”
All Script entries ended with a similar dramatic note, meant to nail in a sense of imminence and grandeur via tedious repetition. The size of the infraction made no difference to the weight of its consequences.
Ivy continued like this for a while, going on about upholding an image for her sake along with the school’s. But Evelyn had stopped listening ages ago, the sound of blood rushing behind her eardrums, a deafening roar, fingernails digging into her palms, willing her mouth shut lest she worsen an already dire situation.
Brrrrriiiiiing
The bell sounded abruptly, cutting through the haze.
“Well then, that’s that,” Ivy said, finally taking a step back. “I hope you have learned your lesson. Now head to Rec before you miss lunch.”
Evelyn turned to leave, hands red around the new indents in her palms. Before she could reach the door, Ivy spoke up one last time. Expecting more scolding, Evelyn looked back with hesitation, but was surprised to see Ivy’s expression had changed to something softer than before.
“I know this must be frustrating for you, considering how close you were to your second Progression Exam. But you need to understand that your actions… they affect much more than your ranking.” She placed a hand on her shoulder. “In the future, please be more careful. I’d hate to see another one of my students transferred.”
And with that, Evelyn was sent on her way.
***
“I cannot believe her!” Phoebe had saved her a seat in the back corner of the Sprout Eatery. A wall divided the separate classes, but Saps were just on the other side of the one nearest Evelyn’s seat. It was all she could do not to picture Avery’s smug face as she undoubtedly bragged to her Stick friends about a “try-hard Sprout” that deserved what she had coming.
“Doesn’t she have anything better to do than obsess over you?” Phoebe cupped her hands over her ears. They often turned bright red in response to her quick temper, blending right in with amber curls pulled tight against her head. Evelyn couldn’t help but smile as she continued to rant about problems that were not her own, always so considerate of those around her. She’d make an amazing Care Giver. Evelyn only wished she could do the same for her.
Well, she wished a lot of things. But that was neither here nor there.
“She’s worse than the rest of them,” August chimed in from the other side of the table. He was busy eating one of his ungodly concoctions: toast with peanut butter and butter beans. “No one even listens to that rule. Even Sticks don’t care much if your intent is to dissolve conflict.”
August was a tall and handsome seventh-year Sprout like Phoebe. The two of them had known each other for as long as either could recall, or at least as long as they cared to recall. He’d been preparing for his next Progression Exam at the end of term, but they doubted that the Masters would allow him to pass no matter how good his scores would undoubtedly be. His current track in Personal Presentation, a ridiculous sector meant to keep track of dress code violations and inappropriate speech, was… less than satisfactory.
Several years ago he had been reprimanded several times for failing to keep his unruly hair out of his eyes, and even more severely when he outright refused the head of Education’s suggestion to just shave it all off. Lucky for him, a much more forgiving Ed had stepped in to offer an alternative option, teaching August to twist his curls into dense locks that were easier to manage and maintain. That worked for a while. The issue now was that he kept growing them out past his ears, which had earned him, you guessed it, further point deductions.
“It looks like a helmet when it’s short!” That’s what he told the head of Education. But to no surprise, this did nothing to improve his placement. Though on all other accounts, his record was perfect: a stubborn, self-obsessed genius.
“Avery is overbearing, no doubt, but you had that Education reduction coming. What’s been making you so spacey recently? It’s not like you to slack off so much.” You could always leave it to Sam to tell it how it was. The fact that she agreed with Evelyn at all was a shock in and of itself, though it likely had less to do with who was in the right, and more about which side was opposing Avery’s.
When Sam was only in her first half of Seeds, she got injured while playing on the outdoor facilities. She had been climbing up the side of a play-structure when her foot slipped. As she hit the ground her head snapped back and, along with the addition of a nasty concussion, her right eye went askew and had remained that way ever since.
Avery and some of her friends would call her names and swing objects in front of her face, taunting her and laughing as she struggled to follow its movement, eventually bursting into tears from frustration. Though Evelyn would never admit it, she was grateful to Avery in that respect. After all, if not for their shared tormentor, she and Sam would have never formed a bond. They were each other’s first friends in Sprouts. Evelyn had helped her cut her hair into a half bang to cover her eye. Now Sam tended to come off as cold, even to her closest friends, likely in an attempt to deflect some of that vulnerability they now shared.
She had not been wrong in her judgement, though. Evelyn had been distracted.
It was two past third-bell now, so rush in the Eatery had already come and gone. But still a few Sprouts milled about, grabbing whatever was left behind by the other kids. So, to avoid any unwanted listeners, Evelyn leaned in towards the middle of the table, beckoning her friends to do the same.
She quieted her voice to a murmur. “I found a book.”
They looked to her, unsure of what to make of this comment, clearly confused.
August was the first to speak. “What about it? What book?”
She shook her head, pausing to consider, and quickly sending a glance over her shoulder. When she was sure that no one was within earshot of the table, she turned back. “I found a book, outside of the Library.”
Her words hung in the air like a loose piece of thread from the hem of a skirt. Several heartbeats passed, and while Phoebe and August’s expressions had settled on mere disbelief, one look at Sam and you might have thought she’d swallowed a handful of tacks; her palms laid flat on the table, feigning a calmer expression than she was capable of maintaining.
“And you reported it immediately.” Not quite a question, more of a plea, desperately holding onto any semblance of halcyon she had left, which was not much. Evelyn kept her gaze glued to the table, but Sam persisted. “You sent it to Leadership. Right Evelyn?”
Phoebe and August turned their gazes towards Sam, then to each other, then back to Evelyn, still wearing the same expression. Normally, this common occurrence of synchronism would have led to an outburst of laughter from everyone present. If only the mood weren’t so drab.
“Are you fucking crazy?” She tried, with little success, to keep her voice below a whispered scream, but the panic was seeping through. “You know what the Keepers will do! You withheld information about a book outside of Library premises. Even worse, you kept it!” She gripped the sides of the table now, knuckles white against its plastic yellow top.
Her worries, though Evelyn did not wish to admit it, were warranted. Students were required to uphold Manuscript law with varied levels of scrutiny from the moment they entered the Planter and joined their first Seed class. And while certain violations prompted a lighter chastising (score reduction or a slap on the wrist) three particular rules took precedence above all else:
Principles 1 — Page 15:
From Primary to Regulated Guidelines — Section 12b
Do NOT venture outside of Garden boundaries,
Do NOT enter the Master’s Rec unaccompanied,
Do NOT take any books out of The Library — If a book is found beyond Library grounds, return and report is mandatory —
If a student was caught infringing on just one of these rules, even once, consequences become extreme. The moment Evelyn had discovered this book, she would have been under oath to report the incident to the Bookkeepers immediately. If anyone were to find out about her insubordination, it would mean immediate transfer to an outer community where she would live out the rest of her life as a member of Staff, never to set foot on Garden premises again. Newly named and repurposed.
This was going to be difficult, getting past Sam’s better judgement.
“You don’t understand, this isn’t like the others.” Evelyn knew she would not convince anyone, not when something like this was bound to put anyone on edge, not without any hard evidence. She furrowed her brow in frustration.
Though nobody would dare say this in front of the Masters, many students called The Library a “tomb”. Nearly every shelf was filled to the brim with nothing but biographies written about Earth-War veterans, describing ruthless and bloody battlefields full of miserable soldiers squabbling over pointless land disputes, or historical accounts of the “human footprint” and its detrimental effects on the Earth’s oceans and atmosphere, blah blah blah et cetera et cetera. Overall, a relatively dismal space, save for a few drawn books meant to help Seeds learn to read and write.
This book, though, it was different because it was beautiful, each page evoking an emotion that Evelyn hadn’t known herself capable of feeling. And the pictures…
No. This book was not like the rest.
“Where is it now?” August asked. The initial shock had worn away, his brows sitting ridged above dark, auburn eyes, leaving his expression far sterner than before. It made him look much older than the nineteen-year-old boy from only moments ago.
“It’s, um… It’s in my backpack.” She recoiled in preparation for a blow. Sam seemed as though an aneurism would come upon her as a blessing, taking her far, far away from this foolish girl with a death wish she clearly meant to share.
Feeling defensive, Evelyn rebuked, “What if the Eds decided to conduct a surprise inspection? I couldn’t just leave it in the room!” She quickly lowered her voice again, reminding herself as a few students glanced her way that this was not a conversation for the general public. “I didn’t want to risk it.”
She could feel the shame beginning to weigh her down, the confidence in her choices feeling less and less justified as each moment passed. It seemed that the more she spoke, the more she came to realize the severity and stupidity of what she had done.
So what if the book was special? So what if she shared a title with the author? Had her selfishness really been so immense that it had blinded her to common sense?
She sank further into her chair.
“Can I see it?” Phoebe had been so quiet this whole time that Evelyn hadn’t realized it was her asking until she looked up and caught her eye. Sam and August turned to her in surprise. She had seemed so flustered before, but her demeanor was changed; was it determination that Evelyn caught flashing in her eyes, or fear, or both? Whatever it was, it stopped Sam from immediately butting in.
Evelyn started, “Pheebs, I’m not so sure that’s a good ide—”
“I want to see it.” She was standing now, her eyes glued to the floor. Had her evaluation been wrong? Maybe it was neither determination nor fear; was she desperate?
“Okay,” Evelyn blurted without thinking.
“Okay?” Sam fumed. “Tell me you’re joking! You need to report this now, or better yet, give the book to me and I’ll burn it before anyone even notices it’s gone.”
“You can have it,” Phoebe said, finally having collected herself enough to meet Sam’s indignant gaze, “but you have to let me see it once.”
“Hey wai—” Evelyn was cut off once again, this time by an Ed telling all the remaining Sprouts to clear out of Rec. It was time to start heading to their next class.
“One past first-moon tonight.” Phoebe grinned and gestured to all three of her friends. “You know where.”
And with that, she turned and walked off at a brisk stride, not bothering to wait for anyone in her apparent haste.