Rising Up: A YA Dystopian Sci-Fi Series (Tranquility Series Book 1) Read online

  Accord Number Three

  The Elite and the Magistrate will determine Banishment from the Tranquility community. Banishment will occur for producing and maintaining Alt numbers below Level One over a period of six months. However, no less than eight interventions will be implemented before a citizen is labeled a REM (Resisting Emotional Management). REMs will be released to The Outside and their histories erased. REMs are not allowed to return to the city. No deviants will be tolerated.

  “This means that you always try to be happy. You follow the rules. If you don’t, counselors will work with you. But there’s a limit to the help. You have to want to change.”

  “What’s ‘Banishment,’ Gramps?” Will climbed up into his lap. Suddenly he wanted to feel secure—to be protected.

  “‘Banishment,’ Will, is when you’re no longer allowed to live in Tranquility.”

  Will snuggled up closer. “Where…where would I go?” His voice quavered.

  “There’s a place called The Outside. If you don’t keep your points up, that’s where our City Hall would send you. But, don’t worry. I know you’ll never be banished, Will.”

  “How’d you know?” Will’s face went a little pale.

  “Because I know you, Will. You have the proper heart, and you’ll follow the laws.”

  “Tell me, Grandpa! What should I do?”

  “Stay happy—that’s all, Will. That’s all. Then you can rise up in Status. I’m dressed in orange—'cause that’s my Status color. But there are more. Both Accord Four and Five tell you what you need to know.” He read again.

  Accord Number Four

  Every Tranquilite will pledge himself/herself to uphold all laws in Tranquility. He or she will devote special attention toward the Values listed below, associated with the Status maintained by the individual:

  White — Level 1: Purity

  Ivory — Level 2: Unity

  Beige — Level 3: Respect

  Pink — Level 4: Loyalty

  Brown — Level 5: Order

  Turquoise — Level 6: Trust

  Kelly Green — Level 7: Responsibility

  Royal Blue — Level 8: Peace

  Mint Green — Level 9: Conformity

  Magenta — Level 10: Tenacity

  Lavender — Level 11: Obedience

  Yellow — Level 12: Energy

  Orange — Level 13: Optimism

  Purple — Level 14: Nobility

  Indigo — Level 15: Integrity

  Copper — Level 16: Resilience

  Silver — Level 17: Enlightenment

  Gold — Level 18: Wisdom

  Accord Number Five

  Citizens will dress according to their Status. Dress code violations will result in counseling and ultimately, Removal.

  “Blue’s my favorite color! I’m gonna wear that!” Will’s face beamed like a Chinese lantern, already forgetting his worry about Banishment.

  “I have no doubt, Will. You’ll do well.” Gramps dropped his blue-veined dry hand onto Will’s slight left shoulder and patted him.

  “What else, Grandpa?” He rubbed his eyes. He was getting sleepy.

  “The next part is about sickness and death, Will. But, again, Tranquility has everything figured out.” He patted Will’s shoulder again, this time ending his pat in an affectionate squeeze.

  Accord Number Six

  If, by some unknown reason, a member of the community becomes ill, Tranquility’s specialists may diagnose and treat the individual. Treatments include visualization, music therapy, acupressure and massage. It is the responsibility of the citizen to heal themselves through positive thinking. Injuries will be treated with the Medela machine. Tranquilites should reach the age of 100. However, at that time, the Elite will terminate life by merciful euthanasia.

  “This says you’ll live a long time. You won’t ever get sick.”

  “Sick? What’s that?”

  “It’s when you don’t feel good in your body. A few people here are doctors, but you won’t need them. If you get hurt, Medics and a special machine can help you.”

  Will was puzzled. “My body feels good.” He turned to gaze into his gramps’ eyes. He swallowed and then stared at the floor before asking, “What’s you-then-asia? Is that somebody’s name? Asia?”

  “No, no, Will. It’s not you-then-asia. It’s ‘euthanasia.’ It means that the government gives you a shot, and you go to sleep. You don’t come back, though.”

  “But you’ll come back. You’re my grandpa. You have to come back after you sleep.”

  “No, Will. I can’t come back.”

  Will thought his grandpa looked sad. He was sad, too. He climbed back up into the chair next to him.

  “Are you a hundred, Gramps?”

  “Soon, Will. But I’ve had a good life. Don’t you worry. When the time comes, I’ll always be with you. I may be a memory, but a solid one. That you can never lose.”

  Will’s brows furrowed, and his eyes welled up.

  “Now, now.” Gramps hugged him with his bear-like embrace. “Let’s talk about something wonderful.”

  Accord Number Seven

  Since Tranquility holds its members in high esteem, awards will be presented to individuals who go above and beyond their responsibilities to the City. Alt points must be higher than the majority of people of that Status. This citizen demonstrates a dedication to the Status Level’s assigned value through service or written works. Recognition includes plaques, morning news announcements, and/or jewelry. The Augur Prize is one such honor, represented by a Status-determined, priceless ring.

  “This means if you earn more points on your Alt than anyone else, you get a ring. Or, if you prove you have fully developed the character trait of that Status level.”

  “Do you have a ring?” Will asked.

  “No. But my hope is that you might one day.”

  A smile lit Will’s face, and his voice grew bubbly. “Who do I ask for one?”

  “Ah, Will. You don’t. The prize will come if you earn it.”

  Accord Number Eight

  Individuals who achieve Level 18, Gold, are invited to join the Elite to serve in City Hall with the Magistrate. This council determines the best welfare for its citizens, drafts laws, and recognizes citizens in the community.

  Will said, “Gold! It’s all about gold, huh?”

  “Sort of. If you earn enough points, you become a high level. Level Eighteen. Part of the government. Make the laws. The rules. You’re called Elite.”

  “If I’m a Leet, I can make the rules? I got lots of ideas!”

  “Save ‘em up, Will. For some day. Now, listen carefully. These are the last of the Accords.”

  Accord Number Nine

  The Magistrate holds his term for life. In the event the Magistrate should die, members of the Elite will choose a new leader among themselves best suited for the position.

  “Our leader’s called a Magistrate. He’s in charge. He and City Hall always have your best interests at heart.”

  “Can I be a Magistrate?”

  “You never know.”

  Accord Number Ten

  Notifications in writing made to individual citizens from City Hall will be obeyed without question for the good of all citizens and the peace of Tranquility.

  “This means you need to obey the laws. Take orders. They’ll keep all of us from suffering ever again like the people of the past.”

  Will shook his head up and down, to show his understanding, his eyes solemn as a prayer. “Okay.”

  “Not just ‘okay.’ Promise me, Will. Promise me! No matter what, you’ll never betray your family or your government.”

  “Yes, I promise.” Will raised two fingers in the air to show his pledge. “You can count on me. I’ll always remember.”

  His mind snapped back to the present like the stretched release of a tight blind. He would make them all proud. His mom, especially, who told him to work hard and leave a legacy for future family members to follow like his grandpa. Perha
ps at some point he could meet the Magistrate, Tranquility’s leader, and thank him personally for providing everyone, especially himself, such a wonderful life.

  4

  Ember’s Loss

  Ember jumped, startled. A phone call was coming through her Alt. An upbeat tune from the city’s Top 40 shattered the stillness. Its lyrics taunted her; they were a purposeful reminder that life was blissful, ideal. Yet, the music grated like a shrill saw. She was discouraged and deeply troubled.

  “Hello?” She breathed into her Alt, immediately realizing that whispering was unnecessary. Her mom slept on, undisturbed.

  “Ember—Dr. Abutor. Beautiful day in our fine city. Your mom—resting comfortably?”

  “Doctor! Thanks for calling. I’ve left messages for you for days now…I’m really concerned about my mom…she hasn’t eaten or spoken for a week. She doesn’t wake up. She needs something–something to help her! Isn’t there anything more you can do?”

  Ember looked around the room, searching, almost as if she could magically conjure something up to help her mom. Instead, the room’s walls seem to close in. The antiseptic smell of the hospital room, partly disguised by a lavender fragrance, clung to her clothes. It added to a nausea created by anxiety.

  “We’ve tried everything, Ember. Remember working with your mom and the doctors? Traditional healing methodologies, all utilized. Laughter sessions, check. Music therapy, throughout. Imagery used as well. There was no genetic abnormality to correct with GFX. In your mother’s case, sadly — those haven’t worked. Bewildered the medical team. Never even identified the disease at all. Pretty challenging finding a specialized cure. Way beyond our skills.”

  “But my mom’s a fighter, Doctor! She went running every morning and worked her shifts at the museum just days before she was admitted here. No one in the community even realized she was sick. She was always the one engaging others in positive conversation. She never complained or cried. There must be something you can do, Doctor! I’m not even able to communicate with her! What if these are my last moments with her? I can’t even say good-bye…”

  “So…very sorry, Ember…that time has passed. We’re still monitoring her Alt carefully along with her other vital signs, but there’s absolutely no emotional activity on her Alt.” No wonder I can’t feel her emotions, Ember thought. And her aura is gray and dim. “Try some breathing patterns—they help prepare people for the worst. And, talk to your mom. Who knows? Possibly, she’s still able to hear you. Again, I am sorry.”

  Ember eyes filled with tears as she saw the upside-down face on the Alt’s screen, an icon verifying the end of the conversation.

  Her eyes now on the Alt’s surface, Ember realized it was time for monitoring her emotional state. She loved her Alt. Her most precious possession was sensitive and absolute, a good friend. The emotional monitoring, unlike unexpected phone calls, was a welcome activity, comforting in its ongoing presence, its feedback necessary for life to stay peaceful and happy. But this was not a typical day.

  She sucked in a deep, jagged breath. Her mother’s life was ebbing away, triggering a tightrope walk with Alt readings. Depression was a severe sin in the community, the Alt noting it with ease. What would it read now?

  Ember tapped on her Alt. Place her index finger…wait ten seconds…

  Vibration resonated on her wrist—the signal that the Alt had completed registering each emotional and physical strand. She glanced down, hoping for the best. Every point—good or bad—counted. Ember held her breath.

  Her reading came up, blinking neon pink. Respiration rate—twenty-five breaths per minute, heart at 100 beats per minute. “This is accelerated.…” She caught herself talking aloud. The “C” measurement—the Cortisol hormone secretion protecting the body from stress—was elevated. She had to concentrate.

  Ember’s Alt vibrated and started to ping. To her dismay, a downward arrow popped up in the display. It appeared as a solid form but soon began to transform into a repeating downward arrow. A bar of red appeared at the bottom of the Alt’s face, indicating that she had bottomed out in the red zone! Don’t panic, she thought.

  Her tears threatened to break free, but Ember couldn’t allow herself the freedom to cry. A tear had its price. A tear was a risk. Even a simple, reactive thought was fatefully significant. Ember gazed out the hospital window tonight and sighed. As with all nights, every window was wet with rain. The raindrops were like tears, tracing with their tracks her difficult journey.

  In spite of what was happening, it was vital to battle emotions. Even death was not an excuse to be weak or sad! She had to breathe deeply and be calm! Think positive thoughts!

  As if she was on the outside step of a moving merry-go-round, gripping the iron bars, Ember hung on. A thought settled into her unbalanced psyche—a reflection back on her early schooling when she had her Empowerment Teachings. Those teachings throughout her life had successfully enabled her to overcome negative energy. Ember concentrated on slowing her heartbeat by repeating a common mantra: “Happiness is a choice that requires effort.”

  Ember struggled not to cry and kept reaching over to squeeze one of her mother’s hands from where it listlessly dangled over the side of the hospital bed. Her childhood history came to mind, memories streaking through like meteorites in the night sky. She saw her mom pushing her on a swing when she was four. She saw the homemade birthday cake, iced in pink, that her mother placed in front of her; saw, too, how her mom brought sparklers out for an extra surprise, her own eyes as bright as the fiery shreds. She remembered notes in her lunchbox with positive affirmations and heard her mother singing as she dressed for the day, not hitting the proper notes. She saw her mom pouring essential oils into Ember’s bathtub, remarking they were “magical.” She saw her mom at forty, graduating to Status Level Fourteen, her face radiant as a pearl newly formed, as she received a set of silky purple clothes. Each change in status meant a new color to wear. Purple was the color everyone wore at Level Fourteen, but Ember thought that the color looked more magnificent on her mom than anyone else in Tranquility. All these scenes projected in her mind as if in an old-fashioned film, now crushing toward “The End” in the final frame.

  Ember squeezed her eyes shut, willing these memories to take hold and register on her Alt. Love was the ultimate emotion. Pure. Stronger than all. She believed that love could prevail. As if in confirmation, she felt a vibration on her wrist…an encouraging sign.

  Mom’s ruptured breathing from the hospital bed grew louder. Could her mother feel the love, too? She breathed in deeply, willing her own breath to repair her mother’s.

  “Mmmm…”

  What was that? Had she heard something other than her mom’s irregular breathing? Ember listened carefully but heard no more unusual hums or purrs. One of the machines made a soft whirring sound…okay…the machines were making adjustments.

  “Mmmm…”

  Ember sat up in her chair. Wait! It was Mom making that noise! Maybe Mom was rallying?

  Ember leaned in toward her mother. “Mom…? I’m here…it’s Ember, Mom.” She put her hands on her mother’s face. “Mom…I love you. Please…can you talk?”

  Only silence answered.

  She had been so hopeful that what she had heard was more than just breath. She placed her hands around her mother’s face and silently begged her to respond.

  Ember closed her eyes, again remembering the carefree days with her mom before the illness slithered stealthily into her near-perfect body. The most dominant memory…her mother’s shining blue-green eyes noticeably twinkling when she smiled, her hugs all comfort and selflessness, her values exemplary.

  When Ember was eight, she achieved the first level on the Continuum’s Spectrum. Her mouth curled in a smile, remembering the beautiful white dress her mother had sewn for her. In a special Status ceremony called Renew, Ember graduated from wearing pale pink, the color of all Tranquility’s children, to wearing white. White symbolized purity of thought and new beginnin
gs.

  Ember took her hands gently from her mother’s face. She turned her eyes to the clock on the wall. How long had she sat here, concentrating, dreaming, hoping for something — anything? The clock’s muted ticking was both a comfort (all clocks in the city at large were programmed to soothe), but yet, the tick-tock was a reminder that time slowed down for no one, not even in Tranquility.

  5

  Ember’s Hope

  “Em…ber.” The word was weak, barely audible.

  Ember’s head whipped back around. “Mom! I’m here, Mom! You’re talking!” Ember cried.

  “Don’t wear…” Talesa’s voice faded out to a whisper.

  “Mom! What? What shouldn’t I wear?”

  “No…time...” her mom’s eyes were still closed, but her mouth quivered.

  “Mom! Please! What are you saying?” She implored her mother to help her understand. “I need you to fully wake up, Mom…Mom!” A whoosh from behind distracted Ember from her mom’s labored whisper.

  The unanticipated rush came from the automated door blowing in a stubby medic with red hair cut in a smooth bowl shape. Go away. Ember’s heart was tumbling once again — an intrusion. Right when Mom was trying to tell her something important!

  The medic, wearing a bright yellow uniform, stomped in. “How’s she doing, darling? We want to make sure her medication is high enough that she has pleasant dreams, you know.” Medic Redhead, or whatever her name was, walked briskly to the bed, turned up the medication sliding into the tube, checked her mom’s vitals being measured on the Alt on her wrist, fluffed the pillow, and smiled.

  Ember was ready to burst. She jumped out of her chair and ran to this new person. She’d interrupted, but maybe she could help. “Medic! My mom talked! I haven’t been able to talk to her for two weeks, and she actually spoke!” Tears blurred her vision, and her whole body vibrated with nervous tremors.