The Perfect World (The Perfect World Series Book 1) (10 page)

Ms. Linda opened the door for them and led them inside. The small room was split into two sections of desks, one on each side of the room. Chairs were all black in color and had two oblong holes in the back of them. There was a large whiteboard at the front of the classroom with an overhead screen that could be pulled down with a string when necessary.

She split the line into two groups again, and Cyrus found himself in the middle of the row on the right-hand side of the room, with Scott sitting on his left and Melody across from him in the last desk on the left side of the room. Everyone sat quietly in their seats and waited for further instruction. They had all learned early that talking amongst themselves was never appreciated or appropriate.

“Every one of you is to stay in your seats until I come back with your new instructor. If any one of you acts out and decides to get out of your seats, you will go without dinner tonight. Do you understand?”

They all nodded, and Ms. Linda nodded curtly back.

“All right then. It will be just a minute or two.”

Their caretaker left the room with her normal purposeful haste, and they were on their own. The sounds of shuffling feet could be heard, and a few coughs as the children just sat there. Deciding to lighten the mood a bit, Cyrus made a funny face at Melody across the room. She put a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle and then clapped her other hand over her mouth as he made another one. Scott caught on to Cyrus’s act and decided to join the fun. The other boy moved his chair across the floor at different speeds to produce an assortment of funny sounds. After a particularly long one, the entire class was laughing about it. Cyrus had never seen all the other kids laugh at the same time before, but it felt wonderful.

The feeling wouldn’t last as Ms. Linda arrived back with the new teacher in tow. One withering look from this new woman silenced everyone in the room, and they immediately sat up straight, feeling on edge. Her eyes were a sharp blue, reflecting her cold nature as she scrutinized each and every child with distaste. Her mouth was small and incredibly thin. Her hair was a shimmering blonde that was wound back in a tight bun. She wore the same colors of clothes that they did, although hers were a better fit. Her mien showed off an air of superiority that she didn’t try to hide.

Cyrus saw the belittling way she looked at all of them, and a cold stone formed in his stomach. This woman almost made him wish they were still with Ms. Amelia, something he thought was impossible.

“Good morning class.” The woman’s voice was light, feathery and undeniably smug. “I will be one of your four new teachers for the next ten years. I will be your homeroom teacher as well as your math teacher. It sure is wonderful to see your new, bright, shining faces today. My name is Ms. Neva,” she spoke as if her own name were hallowed and they were lucky to hear it. “Can you all say, ‘Good morning, Ms. Neva?’”

“Good morning, Ms. Neva,” they all said with varying levels of enthusiasm. Cyrus’s was on the lower end of the spectrum.

“Excellent,” she remarked crisply. “You will say this to me every morning before we start class. Now, I need to tell you a little bit about the curriculum. There are five types of classes you will have throughout the day. They are English, Math, Science, Social Studies and Physical Education. Physical Education classes will occur every other day of the week. Do you understand? Say, ‘Yes, Ms. Neva.’”

“Yes, Ms. Neva.”

“Good. You all seem so obedient already, but I still need to go over some of the rules with you.”

She turned to the board and grabbed a black marker from the shelf beneath it. Their new teacher wrote the word ‘rules’ in big letters at the top of the board, then underlined it.

“Rules,” she read to them, then wrote a definition after the word. “Rules are laws that everyone in class must obey. There are no exceptions. Can everyone tell me what rules are?”

“Rules are laws that everyone in class must obey. There are no exceptions.”

“Good. Now for the rest.”

She paused to scribble six rules on the board. Cyrus and the other children impatiently fidgeted in their seats as the squeaky marker traveled around the board. Finally, Ms. Neva turned back to them and pointed to the board.

“Okay class, could everyone tell me what rule number one is?”

“No one is to answer a question individually,” they spoke in monotone unison.

“Good. Rule two?”

“If everyone has not understood something, then no one has.”

“Good. Rule three?”

“No one is to ask a question individually.”

“Good. Rule four?”  

“Speaking to others individually is forbidden.”

“Good. Rule five?”

“Your instructor is always right.”

“Good. Rule six?”

“Negative emotions will not be tolerated. Any student that shows such emotions will be declared sick for the good of everyone.”

“Now, does everyone understand the rules?” There was a hint of impatience in her voice as she asked the question.

This time, all of the children nodded. Cyrus did so quite vigorously as he did not want to go over them one more time.

“Excellent,” Ms. Neva spoke without feeling. “Now that you understand the rules I must give you my word as your instructor that you will receive the best education the world has ever known. You will all know equal amounts about each subject. Everyone will be equal in ability. Most importantly, every one of you will be sufficiently prepared to receive your destinies.”

Cyrus and Scott shared a sour look between them, both of them feeling that these rules and classes seemed awfully familiar already. Cyrus glanced across the room at Melody to see that her head was already resting on her hands and a resigned expression on her face.

“Well,” Ms. Neva continued, “now that you understand the rules, we can discuss the subjects you will learn. We will all start every school day with a short homeroom period. This period will be used for going over our schedule and any other announcements.

“The next period will be English, and it will be taught by Ms. Kara. In English class, we will learn basic grammar, learn sufficient writing skills, and have carefully scripted conversations.

“Math class will follow English and will be taught by me. In math class, we will learn basic arithmetic, be able to solve basic word problems, fractions and decimals. Does everyone understand so far?”

“Yes, Ms. Neva.”

“In social studies class, we will learn about the injustices that plagued the uncivilized times. Your Social Studies teacher is Mr. Johnson, and you will all learn about how much better off we are now thanks to the efforts of the Experts. After this class, you will have a short lunch break.

“Science class will follow math class and will be taught by Mr. Alvy. Science is the study of known facts. In science class, you will learn about the basics of rock formation, electricity, and biology.

“Physical Education will be taught by Mr. Warden. This class will maintain the health of their bodies. This is a class where we will play games that will be fair and fun for everyone.

“Once classes are finished, you will be escorted back to your rooms by your caretaker. A computer class will take place after dinner providing you with additional information. Does everyone understand the schedule?”

“Yes, Ms. Neva,” they said in unison.

“Good. This is going to be a short day for us as it is only an introduction. Everyone will need to get the assigned reading materials from the storage room to be prepared for class tomorrow. There are books, notebooks and pens that everyone will need to have to complete the courses. Ms. Linda will show you where the materials are. I will now go and fetch her for you. No one is allowed to speak while I am gone.”

Ms. Neva didn’t waste a moment of jetting out the door to exit the classroom, not even to say goodbye. Cyrus’s good mood upon entering the room and going to this new school had been entirely deflated by the lecture he had just been given. The subjects were different, but the way they were going to be taught hadn’t changed. Nothing was going to be different. He had a feeling the next couple years were not going to be pleasant.

In a short space of time, Ms. Linda was back, and she put them into their line. They moved to the end of the hall, where Ms. Linda picked out the materials each of them would need from now on. He received four small black books with different subject titles on them, along with a black notebook, black pencil pouch with black pens inside. Every one of them received the same collection of items, and when the last child had the selected items, the class exited the building and headed back to their floor.

Cyrus felt relieved to be back in his room after that introductory lesson. He was more anxious about the future now than when he had left. The only thing that eased his worries was that glowing orange, purple barrier of the Quarantine Dome. Omnipresent and seemingly unbreakable, it made him feel that even when things changed, whenever things got worse, that lighted wall would always be there. He stared longingly at it from his small white-walled room.

Cyrus was staring up at the white ceiling of his room feeling irritated. It had only been one month since he had started taking lessons at his new school, and he was already starting to dread going to them at all.

And today really didn’t help,
he thought as he blew out a long breath.

He had gone to class in the morning as he normally did these days. It had been a fairly average day, which meant tedious and boring until it was time for Social Studies class. The class was normally taught by Mr. Johnson, but today they were stuck with Ms. Neva. She quickly explained that Mr. Johnson had gotten stomach flu and had proceeded to teach the same lesson they’d been learning for nearly a month.

The class took an hour, but Cyrus could sum up most of the lecture in a few sentences. During Uncivilized Times, people used to choose their leaders. This caused problems because some people didn’t approve of the leader in power and this caused an endless amount of negative emotions. That was why the Experts decided the best solution was to switch to dynastic rule, which was the natural progression of leadership in an Enlightened Society. Thus, in the Perfect World there were six ruling families for the six major countries of the world. The current dynastic leader of America was a man named Aeron Bertrand. He was known as The Great Leader and would rule the land until either he named his successor or died in office.

When Ms. Neva finally got done rehashing this information for what felt like the millionth time to Cyrus, she finally began discussing the Bertrand family’s beliefs and policies. These policies were for the good of all people and could never be questioned.             

Just like everything else in our world,
Cyrus thought with an eye role as he placed his head on his desk. He was content to just tune the rest of the lesson out, when something Ms. Neva said caught his interest.

“Our Great Leader Aeron Bertrand and the Bertrand family are very wise people. Back in Uncivilized Times, people used to look at one another and believe that they looked different. This was because the people of Uncivilized Times used to see what they wanted to see. The Bertrand family realized this mistake and taught us all an important belief. No person looks any different than any other person. We all look the same.”

“No, we don’t.”

Ms. Neva whipped around to face Cyrus, who seemed just as surprised as she was by the words that came out of his mouth.

“Yes, little boy. Yes, we do.” Her sharp blue eyes narrowed and her mouth pulled into a tight smile.

Cyrus frowned and turned to Scott, who shared his incredulous look. Then he turned back to his teacher and spoke in a firm voice. He would not betray what his eyes told him.

“No, we don’t. His hair and eyes are darker than mine. He’s shorter than I am. We are
not
the same.”

“It’s true,” Scott spoke up just as strongly. “His eyes are green, when mine are black. His face has freckles and mine doesn’t. How are we the same?”

“You. Are. The. Same.” Ms. Neva spat on in a slow, deadly hiss. “You only think you’re different because you’re uneducated. Right now, you’re under the delusion that you’re different. It will change over time.”

“How? How can my eyes be wrong?” Cyrus questioned back petulantly.

“Because they are. Besides, I think you two have forgotten one of our rules. I am your instructor. As such, I am always right. Do you understand?”

“No,” Cyrus and Scott both said, but many other students answered with a resounding ‘Yes.’

“Good.” Ms. Neva went on ignoring Cyrus and Scott, but keeping a very close eye on them both. They were both relieved when Social Studies ended a few minutes later. The entire class got up, filed into their line and headed into the cafeteria for a short lunch break.

Unfortunately, lunch was hardly an improvement over Social Studies class. Their lunches came in the form of an aluminum container with foil wrapped on top. Each container was the same size and filled with the same contents. When everyone had their small box, they were told by the cafeteria attendants that they could open their lunch. Cyrus unwrapped the foil to find that they were having breakfast for lunch. His container was divided into compartments containing two sausage links, hash browns, a container of ketchup for the hash browns and a small pancake with no syrup.

The seven-year-old boy made a face at the food before him. The hash browns were always pretty mushy, and he always drowned them in ketchup to choke them down. He voiced his displeasure to Scott, who sat right next to him. Scott was going to reply when they were spotted by one of the cafeteria attendants. Cyrus was pulled aside and spent the majority of the lunch period being lectured about how lunch period was a quiet time where no talking of any kind was allowed. Then the attendant informed him that everyone liked hash browns, and he was just too immature to understand the idea. When Cyrus returned to his seat, he found that none of the food tasted very good to him anymore.

He had been extremely relieved when it was finally time for Ms. Linda to take him back to his room. He couldn’t remember a time where he wanted to see the plain white walls of his room so badly. Once he was inside, he flopped down on his bed and grumpily stared at his white ceiling. His moody staring was interrupted by the surprising sound of a click. His door was open, but not at the usual time.  Cyrus was equally confused when Ms. Linda walked into his room. She looked incredibly grave as she stared at him.

“Hi, Ms. Linda,” Cyrus spoke politely, though there was a note of question in his voice. “Why are you here?”

“I’m here, dear boy, because I received communications from Ms. Neva. She said that you expressed differences between your classmate and yourself. This is a sign of sickness and that you need to be kept away from the other children for a while.”

“For a while?” Cyrus repeated in shock. “How long is ‘a while?’”

“A few days,” Ms. Linda replied sadly. “At least until you are deemed better. You will remain in this room for the next few days except to go to the bathroom. Your meals will come as scheduled, and I will check on your progress periodically.”

“But—” Cyrus tried to argue as she opened the door to leave, but his caretaker wouldn’t hear it.

“That is all, Cyrus,” she said with finality as she shut the door.

For a moment, Cyrus did nothing but sit on his bed and stare at the closed door. Then the frustrated boy spun around onto his stomach and began pounding his pillow. He was so angry; he didn’t know what else to do. He pounded and pounded for an interminable length of time until he was exhausted. When he was done, he rolled back onto his back and covered his eyes. Two hot tears slid down his cheeks as his mind cried out against his punishment.

I don’t feel sick. I’m fine! he raged in his head. Why do they call me something I’m not?

Cyrus spent the rest of the week in captivity. He wasn’t allowed to go to their new school or take computer classes. The young boy spent much of this ‘sick’ time either sleeping, staring out the window or staring at the ceiling.

The only breaks he got for his boredom were the scant visits from Ms. Linda, who was her normal serious self, and one from Scott, who hid in the bathroom again trying to talk with him. Apparently, Scott had been deemed sick as well, though not quite as seriously as Cyrus. Scott only missed two days of school for his sickness while Cyrus missed four days. Scott told him exactly how much he wasn’t missing at their new school, which made him feel slightly better. Unfortunately, as tedious as their new school could be, it was still better than spending all his days in idleness without even a computer lesson to keep him occupied. When Ms. Linda told him that he was better and was allowed to go back to school again, he felt a mixture of dread and relief.

The weekend slogged by for the bored young man in his third story corner room. He had spent a good portion of the week staring at the Quarantine Dome outside his window. He wondered if one day he would be sent there. The very idea should have scared him, but instead, all it did was fill him with curiosity about life within those glowing walls. 

Tired of lying around, Cyrus pulled out his notebook and pen to draw a picture of the glowing wall. He wished he had another color pen to make it look more realistic, but all he had was a single black pen. Carefully, looking up to do the sketch, he traced the swirling colors as he saw them, the thick wall of white as it always stood, marking it eternally into his notebook. When he was done, he smiled at his final product. It wasn’t an exact replication, but it was made by his hands. His and his alone.

Encouraged and feeling better than he had in a while, he began stacking some of the items from his room once more to make a tower. The task was soon accomplished, and after he was done admiring it, he noisily knocked it down to the ground.

Grinning at the mess he’d made, he picked the books back up and tried to build another design. Then another. Then another. Cyrus was trying to find a way to stabilize his latest creation when Ms. Linda walked in. He was so caught up in his work that he didn’t notice her come in until she coughed to get his attention.

“What do you think you’re doing, Cyrus?” she asked with a tired resignation in her voice.

“Building things with this stuff.”

“That’s not what they’re for, young man.”

“I know that,” Cyrus responded irritably. “I’m just using them as materials because I don’t have anything better. What’s wrong with that?”

“Noth—” Ms. Linda started to say, but stopped herself. She maintained her severe demeanor and spoke with a little more edge. “It’s just that if you persist in doing this ‘building’ as you call it, you may end up being sick again. Is that what you want?”

“No,” Cyrus spat out with a pout. He was just having a little fun. What was sick about that?

“That’s right. You don’t,” Ms. Linda spoke with finality. “Getting sick is a serious business, Cyrus. If you are sick too often, then you may never get better.”

“What does that mean?” he questioned with a chill running down his back.

“It means that someone will have to come and take care of you forever,” she answered cryptically. “In other words, you will never receive your destiny.”

“What if that is my destiny?” Cyrus asked with all seriousness, swallowing the lump in his throat.

“It doesn’t have to be,” Ms. Linda spoke in a calm voice. It did nothing to calm down the agitated young boy.

“But, then, what else could it be?” Cyrus asked, voicing his secret fear. “I like building things like this. I really like it, so much that I think I could do it all day long. If building things causes sickness and it’s what I want to do, then what else could my destiny be than to be sick? What else could it be other than to go there?”

Cyrus pointed out the window towards the Quarantine Dome. Ms. Linda took a long look at what he pointed to and then sighed as she carefully stared back at him.

“Listen to me, Cyrus. I’m advising you stop doing this nonsense for your own good. If you find that you can’t, then don’t let me catch you at it again. Never speak of building something to anyone else. Understand?”

“Um, yeah, understood,” the young boy said with surprise. He had never expected Ms. Linda to say something like that.

“Good,” she said casually. Her tone of voice made it clear that the previous discussion was over. “Where’s your trash?” she asked neutrally.

“Wha—? Oh, right there.” He pointed to the top of the dresser.

His caretaker found what she was looking for, threw it into her garbage bag and twisted it shut. She slung it over her shoulder and headed out the door.

“Ms. Linda!” Cyrus spoke quickly, trying to stop her from leaving so soon.

“What?”

“Thanks.”

“For what?” his severe caretaker asked him with a look. The look told him never to mention the conversation to anyone. He nodded his understanding and was happy to see her give him the faintest traces of a smile. Then she was gone.