The Perfect World (The Perfect World Series Book 1) (7 page)

“That’s quite a lot to ask, child,” Ms. Linda commented as she picked up her bag again. She started to leave. “It is more dangerous because sometimes there is no way to get better. When that happens, a sick person is taken away and put in a place far away from other humans.”

“Taken where?” Cyrus’s voice was barely above a whisper.

“There.” Ms. Linda pointed out his window towards the glowing wall with its shifting colors. “That wall is really a half circle known as a Quarantine Dome. It’s where the sick people go.”

Cyrus opened his mouth to ask another question, but Ms. Linda cut him off.

“I’ve already said more than I should have. The rest will be explained to you by Ms. Amelia in group discussion classes. There’s no need for me to answer anything else.”

“But—”

“No buts, young man. I have a schedule to keep. Goodbye for now Cyrus.”

She grabbed her trash bag, hastily exited the small room, and the lock clicked in place. Feeling thwarted, Cyrus plopped down on his bed and crossed his arms with a pout. He tried to calm himself by thinking that he’d get more information in class, but it didn’t help at all.

Cyrus finally moved from his bed to the window. He dragged his wooden stool over and stood on it to get a better view. His eyes locked onto the glowing wall that he now knew as the Quarantine Dome. The place where all the sick people went. He knew he should be scared of it; that it was a bad place, yet he couldn’t help but be comforted by the changing colors against the white wall. They were warm yellows, pinks and oranges this evening. The colors brought him a strange sense of peace, and he remained transfixed well after the lights had turned off in his room. It was a long time before Cyrus moved from the stool and even longer before he could sleep, his mind filled with the questions of the day.

Cyrus awoke much earlier than usual the next morning after falling asleep at such a late hour. He yawned and stretched, wondering why he was feeling so restless when he remembered what he had learned yesterday from Ms. Linda. Although, what was much more surprising to him was the idea that he actually wanted to go to group discussion class today. He was hoping to learn more about being sick and the Quarantine Domes.

He jumped out of bed and got dressed on his own. The young boy debated staring out his window some more when he heard a familiar thump from his food slot. It was breakfast time.

Hoping for some better fare than yesterday’s sandwich, Cyrus hastily opened the slot and pulled out its contents. His excitement lasted for a split second more before he recognized the gray gooey substance in the container before him.             

Oatmeal. Cyrus’s face transformed into a terrible pout. Ick! I would rather have another peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Why can’t I get any good food to eat? I’m hungry …

Cyrus heard his stomach growl and reluctantly opened the container. He choked down a few bites to calm his stomach, then placed the oatmeal on his dresser. He glared at it for a moment before Ms. Linda arrived.

His caretaker seemed to be hustling around even more than usual this morning. Cyrus thought maybe this was because she didn’t want to answer any more of his questions. Feeling grumpy because of two foul meals in a row, the young boy decided to say nothing to Ms. Linda at all. If his caretaker noticed his silence, she made no comment on it.

When the lock clicked open for Cyrus to go to his morning class, he burst from his room and hurried into line. He wanted to do something, anything other than sit in his room for another hour.

The students marched silently down the stairs, to the right and into their long conference room. They sat down in the seats and didn’t say a word, just like always. Ms. Amelia’s smile was gap-toothed and forced, as always.

“Good morning, class,” she spoke with her usual sickening sweetness.

“Good morning, Ms. Amelia.”

“Now, yesterday we learned some new vocabulary words, didn’t we?” Her big, dull eyes were on all of them now, watching them nod. “Say, ‘Yes, Ms. Amelia.’”

“Yes, Ms. Amelia.”

“Of course you did. However, there should be one word that you learned today that is the subject of today’s lesson. That word is ‘sick.’”

The squeaky whiteboard marker made its marks and formed the word on the board.

“This word has been around since Uncivilized Times, but the Experts of our Enlightened Society have given it a better definition. You see, the experts discovered that the idea that any one person was better than another was part of a serious mental illness, which is a problem with a person’s brain.” She put a finger in the middle of her forehead to show where the brain was.

“They were suffering from illusions of grandeur, which means that they imagined themselves to be better than other people. The experts diagnosed the problem and decided that the only cure was to catch the symptoms early and isolate the problem before it could spread. After all, we have to take account of the feelings of even the very sick. We must use our understanding of our own equality and make it known to them what they should be thinking. People do need to be taught what to think, especially those who are sick.”

Ms. Amelia began writing a few words and phrases down on the board and then told them to repeat it. She praised them every time they did it. Just like she did every lesson. Cyrus soon grew tired of the praise and her squeaky whiteboard pen. He was filled with the sudden urge to snap it.              

“Very good! Oh, you all learn so fast.” The squeaking stopped with her praise, and the pen was capped. Cyrus inwardly sighed in relief.

“Now, we’re going to talk about something really scary.” She elongated the last two words to emphasize them. “Are you ready class? Nod your heads for me.”

They all did.

“There’s something scary that happened in Uncivilized Times, something that’s still with us today. I’m only going to do this once because I believe it’s important for you to know.”

Ms. Amelia walked resolutely over to the drawn curtains. She went to the pulley and drew them back. She revealed a grass lawn outside the window, covered by a tall brick wall. Above that, was the wall of the Quarantine Dome that Cyrus was looking at yesterday.

“Can everyone see this?” she asked as she pointed to the wall that rose high above the sky. Everyone nodded without being told this time, and she grimaced. “This is something that is left over from Uncivilized Times. It’s what happens when we have to use extreme measures.”

“Unfortunately, some people get incredibly sick and cannot see our way of thinking. They were not born with the ability to reason properly, to accept the equality of others as well as the equality of themselves. They could never live properly in our fair society. They would certainly hurt the feelings of others, which is something we must avoid at all costs. Thus, we make the only choice we can. We have to quarantine them. We remove them from our society permanently. We send them to these Quarantine Domes,” she gestured towards the glowing wall, “for the good of us all.”

“Now, children, you must listen to this! Those domes are very dangerous, and if you ever go near them, you may become very, very sick. Then, you will become uncivilized, and we will have to take care of you. If you are not able to be cured, then you will have to be placed inside the quarantine dome. Does everyone understand?”

All the children nodded. Some of them looked at their teacher with wide-eyed fear. Some looked at her with confusion, mixed with trust. Fewer still looked at her with disbelief. Cyrus and Scott were two of the few.

“I can’t press enough how important it is for all of you to remain healthy. If you get sick, then you will not be able to reach your destiny. Remember, all of you are special, and all of you have a destiny. So, please, listen to what your teachers tell you and don’t ask too many questions. Everything will turn out okay if you do as I ask.”

Ms. Amelia smiled giddily at all of them again, and some of the students smiled back happily. Cyrus did not.

“Good. Now, let’s do a little review, shall we?” Ms. Amelia pulled out some vocabulary cards, and Cyrus guessed that they were the color cards. He wasn’t wrong.

Ms. Amelia took them through all the colors as she had many times before. Cyrus was fidgeting in his seat when the repetition finally came to an end. He noticed that Scott was practically asleep  in his chair.

“Excellent. All right, class I have a very important question for you. Which color do you like the best?”

Everyone waited for her to tell them what to say, but one girl sitting far to the left of Cyrus piped up. She was a stringy girl with alabaster skin, red hair that just touched her shoulders and blue eyes. Her smooth voice was lined with excitement as she gave her answer.

“Red!”

The class was silent as Ms. Amelia looked at her in surprise. Immediately, she turned away from the girl and pretended she had not spoken.

“So, no one has an answer for me, then?”

“I said, red.” The girl spoke again, with a bit of an edge to her voice this time.

“The answer is that no one likes any color better than any other. We like all colors equally,” Ms. Amelia stated with finality.

“But I like red the best!” The girl spoke up again, this time with a shrill voice that showed her displeasure at being ignored. She crossed her arms and pouted at their teacher as she turned towards her.

“Now, Ms. Hannah, it is important to remember that we like everything equally,” Ms. Amelia said in a very even voice. “This was decided by the Experts as the only way to create positive feelings for every person. Doing anything else will result in making other people unhappy. Do you want to make other people unhappy, Ms. Hannah?”

“No,” she said with irritation. Her brows were furrowed, and her face was turning red from all the attention on her.

“Of course you don’t. Would you like it if someone liked a color better than red?”

“It would be okay,” the young girl replied with honesty. “It’s okay if people like other colors.”

“No, it isn’t,” Ms. Amelia said reproachfully. “You are a very young child now, who isn’t emotionally mature yet. Once you become mature, that will change, and differences in opinion will bother you as they bother everyone.”

“It won’t bother me.” The blue eyes were fierce, and her small fists were balled.

“What?”  

“The differences.”

Ms. Amelia frowned deeply at the young girl, but she remained defiant. The teacher turned on her heel, pulled out a new set of cards and continued the vocabulary review. Cyrus and Scott shared a look while her back was turned to the board. Both of them were impressed with the girl, though Cyrus was a bit worried about her. He wished he could tell her that his favorite color was also red.

The lesson ended much quicker than usual for Cyrus, mostly because the class was so edgy after that incident with Ms. Hannah.  When it was over, Ms. Amelia strode away from them without the usual dismissal. Cyrus didn’t really mind this as he never believed their teacher ever missed them in the first place.

As the class lined up and took the elevator back up to their floor, Cyrus kept track of where the red-haired girl was in their line. Stealing quick glances at her as they were all sent to their rooms, Cyrus made a mental note that she went into room 311.

He thought about the red-haired girl once he was back in his room and lying on his bed. Cyrus had never really noticed her before, but thinking back on it, he remembered that she was one of the students who raised their hands when he had asked a question about the cows. She also didn’t seem to believe what Ms. Amelia was saying, if today was anything to go by. That made Cyrus grin, and he wondered if he would ever get a chance to speak with her.

Cyrus thought about how he could do this until his computer class began. He unenthusiastically pulled himself up from his bed, got his notebook and pen out of his desk and plopped himself down on the stool. The machine began to do roll call, and that’s when Cyrus noticed something troubling. Typically, the machine called thirteen student names during lessons. Today there were only twelve.

Which name was missing?
Cyrus wracked his brain to remember all the names of the children on his floor. He had never been able to put the names to the faces as they always spoke in unison during discussion classes.
I’ll listen to the voices and see if that girl’s is here.

When the first vocabulary word popped onto the screen, Cyrus said the word when prompted and listened to the other eleven voices. He listened closely to another word to be sure, but after that he knew whose voice was missing. The red-haired girl’s voice wasn’t there. A cold bit of fear settled in the young boy’s stomach as he wondered why.

What if she’s sick? What if they took her away? he thought as the computer droned on with the lesson. There has to be a way to find out …

Cyrus stared down at his notebook and an idea popped into his head. He ripped off a corner of the paper in his notebook and scribbled a little note on it.

“
Are you OK? Cyrus Wright.
” Frowning at the short note, he scribbled a little more underneath it. “
I like red too.
” He frowned again, wondering if it was a stupid note, or if it was a stupid idea to give it to her. Then, he wondered why he should care about it at all, got frustrated and lay down on his bed. He waited for the lock to click, and when it did, he got up and exited his room.

He walked around to the bathroom and stopped outside room 311. He whistled casually as he bent down outside her door to tie his shoe. While doing this, he took the folded note he had in his hand and quickly shoved it under her door. When that was done, he went into the bathroom and returned to his room like nothing happened.

As he shut his door, his heart was pounding, and he felt a bit sweaty. He didn’t know why he was so keyed up, though he felt like he got away with something extraordinary. Talking to the other kids just wasn’t something that was done.

Realizing he was just standing by the door for no reason, he went back to his bed and lay down. He took a few deep breaths and calmed himself. No one had seen what he’d done after all. How would anyone find out about it?

To distract himself, Cyrus looked out his window. It was raining outside, and the rain was lightly padding against the swirling orange purple barrier behind the tall building. The rainfall was soothing to the young boy, though a big part of him wished to be out there and play in the rain. He imagined sliding around in the wetness, jumping in the puddles and squishing all the mud he could. He smiled widely just to think of all the fun that would be.

A swishing noise on the floor interrupted his daydreaming. Sitting up, he saw a folded piece of paper on his floor, a short distance from the door. Getting up, he walked over to it and picked it up with haste. Opening it, he looked curiously at the contents below.

“I can’t participate. I’m sick. I’m glad you like red. Melody Hannah.”

He was happy to have heard from her, but he was displeased to see the ‘sick’ part of it. Did someone tell her she was sick? Did she herself feel sick after what happened today? He wished he could ask her.