The Unwanteds (4 page)

A
fter the Purge, the High Priest Justine gazed pointedly out the window of the ancient Quillitary jalopy in which she rode. Next to her sat the secretary to the high priest, a prune of a woman who had served the land of Quill since Justine had become ruler fifty years before. While the secretary was not a forgetful woman, she had somehow managed to disremember her own name decades ago, and no one else could recall it either. Now she simply answered to Secretary.

Normally, the High Priest Justine was accompanied by at least one governor as well, but on the day of the Purge all of
the governors were busy delivering the Unwanteds to their deaths, and so it was just the two women in the backseat of the vehicle today.

“Secretary,” Justine said evenly. “I’ve decided that this will be your last year.”

Secretary stared straight ahead at the back of the driver’s head. She nodded slowly.

The High Priest continued. “I’ll choose your successor from the university. You’ll train him as your assistant. When he’s ready, we’ll send you on to the Ancients Sector to be put to sleep.”

“Quill prevails when the strong survive,” murmured Secretary. Her voice showed no emotion.

It was a matter of usefulness, of course. Until this year, when Secretary’s eyesight had begun to grow fuzzy, there would have been no reason to eliminate her, though recently she seemed to be moving a little more slowly, too. Her time had come. And the last thing Secretary wanted was to bring shame to the High Priest Justine or the land of Quill for not emanating perfect strength. Secretary nodded her head slowly and watched the dizzying blur of checkerboard shadows that
rushed over the vehicle from the barbed wire overhead. The shadows did not make her feel secure today.

When they arrived at the palace, the High Priest Justine and Secretary made their way to the dining room for the annual steak luncheon feast, this year celebrating the largest Purge of Unwanteds Quill had ever seen. A moment later Quillitary General Blair arrived, greeted the high priest, and took his place at the far end of the table.

The three waited in silence until the governors returned from the Death Farm. Justine’s eyes gleamed when finally they appeared. “Greetings, Governors. The Unwanteds have been disposed of, I presume?” she asked as the palace servants served the meal.

Senior Governor Haluki nodded curtly and handed the Death Farm’s gate key to the High Priest Justine. “It’s done,” he said. He was one of two middle-aged governors. The other four were young and fairly new to their posts over the past five years—all recent graduates from Wanted University. They had replaced Justine’s elderly governors, who’d had to be put to sleep once they’d lost their edge.

The high priest nodded to Haluki, satisfied. “A record year,” she said. She became preoccupied with working her dull knife like a saw across the steak. After an unsuccessful bout, she glanced up. “It was the first year that the Unwanteds outnumbered our Wanteds.”

Haluki grunted as he attacked his steak. “Even so, we’ve been too lenient in past years,” he said gruffly. “Quill feels richer without them already.”

“Indeed it does, quite right,” Justine muttered, still struggling with the steak. Finally frustrated, she slammed the knife on the table. “Cook!” she bellowed to the empty doorway, and then she turned to the senior governor. “Great Land of Quill, Haluki. Find me a university student who can solve the beef problem, will you? This steak is nowhere near first-rate.”

“Of course,” Haluki said, nodding to young Governor Strang, who made a mental note of the assignment.

At the high priest’s call, the palace cook rushed into the dining room and bowed deeply. His body trembled, though his face was dull and lifeless.

Justine glared at the cook. “Clean up the kitchen. When you are finished, find me a replacement cook—one who actually
knows something about cooking—to serve in your stead.”

The cook’s eyes grew wide. “But the meat—,” he began.

“Silence!” Justine hissed. “By dusk I want you to make your way to the Ancients Home. You have outlived your usefulness. How you made it past me when you were thirteen, I know not. You should have been an Unwanted.”

“Yes, High Priest Justine,” whispered the cook. His face was now struck with the realization that he would die that night. He knew better than to ask if he could stop at his house in Quadrant Three to say good-bye to his wife.

Justine dismissed the cook with a wave, and he disappeared. “Haluki,” Justine continued, “you are right. I’ve been far too lenient, letting some slip by as Necessaries when they should have been eliminated. From now on, one reported infraction is one too many. There should be no room for mistakes in Quill!”

Loud cheers echoed all the way down the table to General Blair, who shouted, “Quill prevails when the strong survive!” Five governors echoed the sentiment. Senior Governor Haluki, gnawing wildly at his steak bone, eyed the elderly high priest. “Hear, hear,” he said.

Artimé

I
t took a good deal of the afternoon for the children to thaw. Alex had a small headache, but it seemed to go away once a group of teenagers, who were slightly older-looking than the group of Unwanteds, delivered to them a delicious picnic supper on the lawn by the shore. As the children ate, the teenagers formed two rows facing them. A rousing but pleasant noise burst from the nearby bushes, and the group stated words of welcome in a most peculiar way. The tops of nearby trees seemed to swish in the breeze like pom-poms. The Unwanteds had no idea what it all was, as they had never seen nor heard anything like it ever before.

Alex could guess, though, since he had witnessed Meghan’s very serious infraction, that what the teenagers were doing was called singing. And though the noise was very fast and loud, it was exciting, and it sounded good to his ears. He looked at Meghan, concerned, knowing how wrong this sort of thing was. But Meghan was enraptured by the performers and didn’t notice.

When the song ended, the choir bowed politely while Mr. Today applauded loudly. “Clap for them!” he said to the new Unwanteds. “Like this—hands together! Applause! It tells them that you liked it,” he explained as the choir dissipated. “You did like it, didn’t you? Meghan, I’ll bet you did.”

Meghan’s eyes grew wide. She glanced in each direction uneasily, perhaps out of habit, and cleared her throat. “Yes, very much, sir.” And then, when Mr. Today chuckled merrily, she added, “Thank you,” and tried to smile.

He nodded encouragingly to her, and to all the children, and then his face grew sober. “You may express your feelings and say what you are thinking here in Artimé,” he said in a soft voice. “It will be hard, at first. But you are safe to speak your mind. All of you.” His eyes grew misty for a moment, and then
he clasped his hands in his lap. “There are some things we should talk about,” he said.

Everyone stopped what they were doing, and all eyes focused on Mr. Today, who continued. “You already know that your parents and the government of Quill believe you to be eliminated by now. You know they are not mourning for you. They’re doing what they do every day, which is to work to build Quill into a place of extreme power and super intelligence. You, dear children, are what they call creative. Imaginative. The government, and especially High Priest Justine, wants to eliminate creative thinkers like you—they see creativity as a weakness. After all, it could lead to something horrible … like magic.” He afforded a small smile, picked a flower, and handed it to Meghan. She hesitated and then took it, and in her hand it turned into a small silver music box.

Meghan jumped and sucked in a startled breath.

“Music,” Mr. Today said. “When you wind the little key, the music box will play a song. Sometimes you’ll hear a song with voices saying something, like we just witnessed here a moment ago.”

Meghan nodded. “Singing,” she said. She turned the key
tentatively, and a few wondrous notes sprang from the box. She startled, and then her shock melted into a grin.

“Indeed,” Mr. Today replied, peering at the others to see if they understood. “Singing and dancing. Painting, sculpting, telling wild tales,” he said, glancing at Lani, who blushed. “Theater, playing instruments, writing stories and poems,” he continued, glancing at various others at each word. “That is what you are now free to do.” He noticed their puzzled looks. “Ah, but I’m getting ahead of myself.”

He paused and tapped a finger on his lips as if he were thinking carefully. “I have two very serious requests. Because of your creative minds, you have been eliminated, or so think the people of Quill. My first request is this: Please consider the ramifications if you ever decide you want to go back to Quill.”

The group of children blinked, hanging on to every word.

“If you ever go back, if you ever contact anyone there in any way, your parents or your siblings,” he said, glancing at Alex, “the governors, or anyone, you risk exposing us all. You take the lives of everyone here in Artimé into your own hands. If discovered, this place, and everyone in it, will be destroyed.

Alex shivered, even though the day was still warm. He thought about his twin brother, Aaron, and felt a sharp pain run through him, as if half of his own body had been severed from the rest. But he knew that Mr. Today was right. And there was no way he would jeopardize the life of the man who had saved him, or the lives of the others here. Alex nodded very seriously along with the rest of the group. But part of Alex wished that Aaron could have shared in this good fortune.

“My second request,” Mr. Today said, “is this: Please take the classes I offer. Train with my warriors and learn how to fight. Because if the High Priest Justine, the governors, or the Quillitary
does
discover that you have not been eliminated,” he paused, letting the words sink in, “they will kill me for deceiving them. And then they will kill you once and for all. And if that happens, Artimé will disappear.”

Samheed, who had been silent ever since his whispered oath, now stiffened. “Fight against the Quillitary?” he sneered. “Impossible.”

Mr. Today cocked his head. “Ah, Samheed,” he said. “The realm of possibility here in Artimé is only limited by our imaginations. You’ll get used to it after a time. But you seem
quite disturbed, my friend. Why is it that you think fighting is impossible?”

“Look at us!” Samheed waved his hand around at the group. He stopped and pointed at Alex, glaring. “In case you don’t know, we’re the rejects from Quill. We’re not strong or intelligent. We’re not capable of fighting. We’re worthless! And you think we stand a chance against the Quillitary?” Samheed rose to his feet. “What you have here is all really impressive, Mr. Today, but come on! You don’t seem to have any soldiers except for that group of oversized animals at the gate. No tanks, no weapons—they’ll destroy us in about one minute!”

Alex shifted uncomfortably and looked down.

The small smile on Mr. Today’s face remained hidden by his hand as he stroked his chin and grew thoughtful. “Hmm,” he said, almost as if he expected Samheed to say more.

And the boy did. “This place is ridiculous. I’m not taking your stupid classes.”

At the word “stupid,” and all the words around it, the other children’s eyes widened in fear. In Quill an outburst like this was against the law and a most egregious infraction that would seal a child’s fate, with no exception.

“It’s
not
stupid,” Lani burst out, without meaning to. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

Alex, feeling both a bit protective of Lani and a bit miffed at Samheed for always glaring at him, shifted on the picnic blanket in case he had to do something—although he had no idea what “something” might be—and shot a look of support at Lani.

Samheed laughed sarcastically. “Not for a baby, maybe.” He looked Mr. Today in the eye and said, “I think you are a complete lunatic.” And then, as if he knew where he was going, he stalked off down the lawn to the seashore and kept walking along its edge.

The Unwanteds watched, stunned. Every one of the children knew that people in Quill were not allowed to argue or become angry with other Quillens. They were taught to bank their rage and keep it somewhere deep inside, so that in case of attack they would, with one unified surge, pour the rage out upon the heads of their enemies. Of course, Quill had quite a lot of rage saved up, since there had been no sign of enemies in the entire fifty years of High Priest Justine’s reign. Yet the government instilled much fear into the people about evil foreign lands beyond the protective walls of Quill—unimaginable places like the great
desert and the dark forest—as if an attack were imminent. And who were the people of Quill to question the rulers who had kept them safe all this time?

But here in Artimé, nothing was as the Unwanteds expected.

The other children began chattering, shocked at Samheed’s actions and words. “What is he doing?” “Is he allowed to go off like that?” “Isn’t someone going to stop him?” “Why does he have to be so mean?” This last one from Lani, who felt wounded, having just been called a baby.

Samheed’s outburst was foreign to the Unwanteds, and they watched Mr. Today, waiting for him to punish Samheed for the infraction. But to their great puzzlement Mr. Today did nothing.