floating oval faces, different shades of brown and pink, two-dimensional, like shaded drawings. I am not afraid this time. I dont feel anything.
I answer all the questions exactly as I should. When I am asked to give my favorite color, for just the briefest, tiniest of seconds my mind flashes on a sky the color of polished silver, and I think I hear a word gray whispered quietly into my ear.
I say, Blue, and everyone smiles.
I say, Id like to study psychology and social regulation. I say, I like to listen to music, but not too loudly. I say, The definition of happiness is security.
Smiles, smiles, smiles all around, a room full of teeth.
After Im done, as I am leaving, I think I see a shifting shadow, a flicker in my peripheral vision. I glance up quickly at the observation deck. Of course, its empty.
Two days later we receive the results of my boardsall passesand my final score: Eight. My aunt hugs me, the first time she has hugged me in years. My uncle pats me on the shoulder awkwardly and gives me the largest piece of chicken at dinner. Even Jenny looks impressed.
Gracie rams the top of her head into my leg, one, two, three times, and I step away from her, tell her to stop fussing. I know shes upset that Ill be leaving her.
But thats life, and the sooner she gets used to it, the better.
I receive my Approved Matches too, a list of four names and statistics age, scores, interests, recommended career path, salary projectionsprinted neatly on a white sheet of paper with the Portland city crest at its top. At least Andrew Marcus isnt on it. I recognize only one name: Chris McDonnell. He has bright red hair and teeth that stick out like a rabbits. I only know him because once when I was playing outside last year with Gracie, he started chanting, There goes the retard and the orphan, and without really thinking about what I was doing, I scooped up a rock from the ground and turned around and hurled it in his direction.
It caught him on the temple. For a second his eyes crossed and uncrossed. He lifted his fingers to his head, and when he pulled them away they were dark with blood. For days afterward I was terrified to go out, terrified Id be arrested and thrown in the Crypts. Mr.
McDonnell owned a tech services firm, and was a volunteer regulator besides. I was convinced he would come after me for what Id done to his son.
Chris McDonnell. Phinneas Jonston. Edward Wung.
Brian Scharff. I stare at the names for so long that the letters rearrange themselves into nonsense words, into baby babble. Gone Crap, Just Fine, Wont Spill, Pick Chris, Sharp Things.
In mid-July, when my procedure is only seven weeks away, its time to make my decision. I rank my choices arbitrarily, inserting numbers next to names: Phinneas Jonston (1), Chris McDonnell (2), Brian Scharff (3), Edward Wung (4). The boys will be submitting their rankings too; the evaluators will do their best to match preferences.
Two days later I receive the official notification: Ill be spending the rest of my life with Brian Scharff, whose hobbies are watching the news and fantasy baseball,
and who plans to work in the electricians guild, and who can someday expect to make $45,000, a salary that should support two to three kids. Ill be pledged to him before I begin Regional College of Portland in the fall.
When I graduate well be married.
At night I sleep dreamlessly. In the mornings I wake to fog.
Chapter Twelve
In the decades before the development of the cure, the disease had become so virulent and widespread it was extraordinarily rare for a person to reach adulthood without having contracted a significant case of amor deliria nervosa (please see Statistics, PreBorder Era).
. . . Many historians have argued that pre-cure society was itself a reflection of the disease, characterized by fracture, chaos, and instability. . . . Almost half of all marriages ended in dissolution. . . . Incidence of drug use skyrocketed, as did alcohol-related deaths.
People were so desperate for relief and protection from the disease they began widespread experimentation with makeshift folk remedies that were in themselves deadly, consuming concoctions of drugs assembled from common cold medications and synthesized into an extremely addictive and often fatal compound (please see Folk Cures Through the Ages). . . .
The discovery of the procedure to cure deliria is typically credited to Cormac T. Holmes, a neuroscientist who was a member of the initial Consortium of New Scientists and one of the first disciples of the New Religion, which teaches the Holy Trinity of God, Science, and Order. Holmes was canonized several years after his death, and his body was preserved and displayed in the All-Saints Monument in Washington, DC (see photographs on pp. 210212).
From Before the Border, A Brief History of the United States of America, by E. D. Thompson, p. 121
One hot evening toward the end of July Im walking home from the Stop-N- Save when I hear someone call my name. I turn around and see Hana jogging up the hill toward me.
So what? she says as she gets closer, panting a little.
Youre just going to walk by me now?
The obvious hurt in her voice surprises me. I didnt see you, I say, which is the truth. Im tired. Today we did inventory at the store, unshelving and reshelving packages of diapers, canned goods, rolls of paper towels, counting and recounting everything. My arms are aching, and whenever I close my eyes I see bar codes.
Im so tired Im not even embarrassed to be out in public wearing my paint-spotted Stop-N-Save T-shirt, which is about ten sizes too big for me.
Hana looks away, biting her lip. I havent spoken to her since that night at the party and Im searching desperately for something to say, something casual and normal. It suddenly seems incredible to me that this was my best friend, that we could hang out for days and never run out of things to talk about, that I would come home from her house with my throat sore from laughing. Its like theres a glass wall between us now, invisible but impenetrable.
I finally come up with, I got my matches, at the same time that Hana blurts out, Why didnt you call me back?
Both of us pause, startled, and then again start up at the same time. I say, You called? and Hana says, Did you accept yet?
You first, I say.
Hana actually seems uncomfortable. She looks at the sky, at a small child standing across the street in a baggy swimsuit, at the two men loading buckets of something into a truck down the streeteverywhere but at me. I left you, like, three messages.
I never got any messages, I say quickly, my heart speeding up. For weeks Ive been pissed that Hana didnt try to reach out to me after the partypissed, and hurt. But I told myself it was better this way. I told myself Hana had changed, and she probably wouldnt have much to say to me anymore.
Hana is looking at me like shes trying to judge whether Im telling the truth. Carol didnt tell you that I called?
No, I swear. Im so relieved I laugh. In that second, it hits me just how much Ive missed Hana. Even when shes mad at me, shes the only person whos ever really looked out for me by choice, not because of family obligation and duty and responsibility and all the other stuff that The Book of Shhh says is so important.
Everyone else in my lifeCarol and all my cousins, the other girls at St. Annes, even Rachelhave only spent time with me because they had to. I had no idea.
Hana doesnt laugh, though. She frowns. No worries.
Its no big deal.
Listen, Hana
She cuts me off. Like I said, its no big deal. She crosses her arms and shrugs. I dont know whether she believes me or not but its clear that, after all, things are different. This isnt going to be some big, happy reunion. So you got matched?
Her voice is polite now, and slightly formal, so I take on the same tone. Brian Scharff. I accepted. You?
She nods. A muscle flexes at the corner of her mouth, almost imperceptible. Fred Hargrove.
Hargrove? Like the mayor?
His son. Hana nods, looks away again.
Wow. Congratulations. I cant help sounding impressed. Hana must have killed at the evaluations.
Not that thats any surprise, really.
Yeah. Lucky me. Hanas voice is completely toneless. I cant tell if shes being sarcastic. But she is lucky, whether she knows it or not.
And there it is: Even though were standing in the same patch of sun- drenched pavement, we might as well be a hundred thousand miles apart.
You came from different starts and youll come to different ends : Thats an old saying, something Carol used to repeat a lot. I never really understood how true it was until now.
This must be why Carol didnt tell me Hana called. Three phone calls is a lot of phone calls to forget, and Carols pretty careful about stuff like that. Maybe she was trying to hurry up the inevitable, skip us both to the ending, the part where Hana and I arent friends anymore. She knows that after the procedure once the past and all our shared history has loosened its grip on us, once we dont feel our memories so muchwe wont have anything in common. Carol was probably trying to protect me, in her own way.
Theres no point in confronting her about it. She wont try and deny it. Shell just give me one of her blank looks and rattle off a proverb from The Book of Shhh.
Feelings arent forever. Time waits for no man, but progress waits for man to enact it.
You walking home? Hana is still looking at me like Im a stranger.
Yeah, I say. I gesture to my T-shirt. I figured I should probably get inside before I blind someone with this.
A smile flits over Hanas face. Ill walk with you, she says, which surprises me.
For a while we walk in silence. Were not that far from my house, and Im worried well go the whole way back without speaking at all. Ive never seen Hana so quiet, and its making me nervous.
Where are you coming from? I say, just to say something.
Hana starts next to me, as though Ive woken her from a dream. East End, she says. Im on a strict tanning schedule.
She presses her arm next to mine. Its at least seven shades darker than mine, which is still pale, maybe a little more freckled than it is in the winter. Not you, huh? This time she smiles for real.
Um, no. Havent gotten down to the beach very much.
I will away a blush.
Thankfully, Hana doesnt notice, or if she does she doesnt say anything. I know. I was looking for you.
You were? I shoot her a look from the corner of my eye.
She rolls her eyes. Im glad to see her attitude is coming back online. I mean, not actively. But Ive been down there a few times, yeah. Havent seen you.