SELF/LESS 01

Chapter One

I can feel the raw flesh rubbing against the inside of my heels
The blister just popped
Good! I hope I bleed all over these wretched satin shoes
My first pair of heels, the first of three, Mum said
Heels for occasions- today is an occasion
Actually, today is the biggest day of my life
Today, I will walk into the Civic Auditorium as a 17-year-old high school graduate
And walk out-

"Name?" The man's grating voice cuts through my reverie
Mum tosses her hair across her shoulder and looks down her nose at the clerk
"Luanna Veodrum and my daughter, Teddy Veodrum"
I don't bother caring about how she says our last name anymore
The emphasis she puts on it, like she's speaking in italics, "Veodrum"

"Row 57A, B" he doesn't look at her and she narrows her eyes
Everyone looks at my mother
She is one of, if not the most influential socialites in the city
He hands her two passes, a red one for her and a blue one for me
Another red pass sits menacingly on the bench
The clerk doesn't mention my father's absence
I copy my mother and clip my pass to the lapel of my dress
I swallow. This is it

The door to the left of the clerk's temporary desk is open
I can feel the bodies of the other families behind us
All pushing, eager to get their names marked off and move inside the auditorium
I don't share their enthusiasm
If I could turn around and go home, I would
If I could go back to bed and wake up anytime but today, I would
I hate today, the more I learn about it, the more I feel like I hate this whole year
Today should be a time of grand celebration
My first council occasion, my job placement
Today marks the first of three ceremonies that signify the completion
Of my time as a child and student

According to the pamphlet, these ceremonies mark the emergence of my new life
As a worker, wife and womb keeper
("Our platinum Jubilee, the future is ours")
("Help us celebrate all our city council has done for us")
("And our next generation of watchers, workers and womb keepers")
("Join us for this year's graduate occasions")
("Outline of proceedings for this year are on the reverse side of this document")

I trail after Mum, but the second I walk into the room I stop
Rows and rows of seats wrap around the circular auditorium
Just stopping short of the imposing stage
This building was designed to fit the families of each generation
One occasion at a time

But that's not what has my attention
Mum turns back to me and smiles
"Pretty impressive, isn't it?" She says
I can't take my eyes off the colossal, honeycomb dome above us
"It took 3000 glass hexagons to make that dome
Each one cut by hand, by master glassworkers"
She draws her eyes from me for a second to look up
"Takes one's breath away to think about it"

Mum loves those things, the effort something takes
Honouring work ethic and achievement, when and where it's due
"Hurry up, Teddy, our seats are in row 57
And these stairs aren't going to walk themselves"

I sigh, I can feel the blood sticking against the back of my heels
My mother ascends the stairs, the centre of attention
Some people stop her to fawn, other's are trying to be subtle
Pointing just past us or looking around 'for a friend'
But their eyes follow her, it's not hard to see why
My father might be one of the most influential councillors in our city
But my mother is the voice of the people, the editor of Metropolis magazine
Our only council-sanctioned entertainment

For 70 years, that institution has guided our city
And now, my mother is at its helm
Her's is the voice of reason and trust
And we are the council's poster family

She smiles benevolently, waving as sycophants call out for her attention
She stops too, answering all the petty questions she's asked
It's worse than the pain my shoes are causing me
I don't know how she handles it all, with a smile no less
Nothing slips through her facade

As we settle into seats A and B
Mum eliminates my father's obnoxiously vacant seat C
Under plumes of her skirt
I know it hurts her, his ever-increasing responsibilities on the Mayor's table
Seem to have taken precedence over his familial duties
Although I can't say I'm sorry for his absence

I slip my shoes off and bend forward to touch my heels
The sharp hiss of air I suck in is enough to catch my mother's attention
She clicks open her purse and passes me two band-aids
I take them with a grateful smile

Of all the things dwarfed from our high seats, the long black stage is not one of them
It's bare, but for the vast banner hanging from the ceiling as still as death
Displaying our city's seal, that eye, "Always watching"
There is a podium at the front of the stage, that's it
No guards clustered together in their charcoal uniforms
Or eagle-eyed councillors
Yet, I cannot shake the feeling of dread
That settles across my shoulders like a heavy mantle

I turn to Mum and open my mouth
She looks at me expectantly
"Yes?" She asks
"Nothing," I say, shaking my head softly
So I don't disturb the ornate twist of hair
Pinned precariously on top of my head

I turn back to the stage and swallow
Why does it look so horrifying to me?
The band-aids haven't stopped the stinging
But they do help when I slip my shoes back on
I tilt my head back to look up again
The 3000 glass hexagons suddenly feel awfully close
I notice it smells damp this far up

I reach across and grab Mum's gloved hand with my own bare one
My hands are uncovered, as is tradition until I'm partnered
She squeezes it tight and smiles at me
I smile back, a real smile this time
Together we rise, and our smiles are gone
It has begun

"Our city and its people
With pride, truth, courage, we stand
Against all dark evil
Like self, creative or made
In our predecessors' wake
Those who couldn't share
Our vision for our people
It's time we don't forget"

As we chant these words, I can feel our voices resonating in my chest
I used to be filled with excitement, hearing everybody's voices united
I was proud to be a part of this
A bead of sweat runs down my back as the words rattle around in my head
"It's time we don't forget" as if we've ever been given a chance

As our city's anthemic creed comes to an end
I can hardly make myself move my lips
Nervous anticipation rips through me
I still can't tell if this is the beginning or the end

"We watch because we care," we all say together, standing shoulder to shoulder
Before the heat of our breaths has settled
A tall woman walks out from behind the banner
Her hair is grey, her suit is grey, and from up here
Her watery, vague eyes look grey too

"Our people," she begins, her saccharine voice
Carrying clearly throughout the vast auditorium
"It is my honour to be here with us today, sharing in this occasion
It is not every day we celebrate an occasion such as this"
She pauses "It is once a year"
She smiles and everyone laughs
Everyone except me

Her smile doesn't meet her eyes as they sweep over us all
Like she's scanning us for infection
I can't help but imagine her teeth are sharp and pointy
She gestures for us to sit
And in one sweeping motion, over 100 people comply
I can feel the force of our action

"This," she continues, "Is the story of our great achievement
The achievement of our Metropolis City Council
It's the same story we have learnt as students at school each year
The city erected walls to protect us, the city enacted laws to protect us
And the city has made sure we are protected every year"

Everyone claps
The applause is not thunderous, it's polite, contained
"We the people are gathered here today to celebrate
Our city's youth. Today is the day they begin their journey
Of giving back to the city that has given them so much"

I glance at my mother
She has tears in her eyes

"Our city has worked to protect us, all of us
And to save us from ourselves"
The woman suddenly grips the podium and leans forward
Her voice drops
"I know I don't need to remind any of us about our responsibilities"
She stands up straight again and ruffles her papers
Despite not having looked at them once
"You know we are born with those vile characteristics
The desire to create, to express"
She spits the words out as though merely saying them could infect her

"They are evil," she looks up at the top of the large auditorium
"We are evil," my heart quickens in my chest
It feels like she's looking straight at me
"That is what leads to conflict, that is what led humanity to war
And in the end, mass devastation, nuclear fallout
And the near extinction of our very species

Within the walls of our Metropolis, we're protected by our city guards
Who patrol the very wall that saved us
From the slow death of outside
That is why we obey our curfew
We are simple people, and our great City Council
Knows that we need protection from ourselves"

She pauses again, and steps around the podium
She places her hands on her thighs, formally bowing
"Remember," she says, her voice still loud and clear
And then everyone is back on their feet, bowing in the same stiff motion
"We watch," she beings
"Because we care" we respond, as is our custom
She nods curtly, and I see a small but satisfied smile play on her lips

"My name is Councillor Kathryn Corrumpere
I will now commence the proceedings and reveal who each of you will be
And how you will serve our great city, Metropolis"

I remember her name from our history classes
Kathryn Corrumpere is known as one of the greatest councillors of our time
Lauded for her exemplary works in the
'Sanitation of the infected and jurisdictional control in the sanitation sector'
This is the woman behind the disappearance
The relocations of family members around our city

She's the reason Lisa is gone

The thought of my best friend has me picking at the edge of my dress
How can these people accept their friends being taken and then reintegrated?
And where?
I still cannot work out where they're being taken

"You will all be in the stages of completing your three-month internships
The service we've had you complete before you start your real service"
I roll my eyes, three months of slave labour
Mum elbows me and points to the stage, "Focus"
Councillor Corrumpere continues
"But that is not all
Today you will join us all as adults in a community that has supported you since your birth
And this year is particularly significant, as we are also celebrating
Our great city's Platinum Jubilee! This year, we are 70!"

The audience collectively jumps
She shouted 70 into the microphone, throwing her arms up in triumph
"You're all here, our city's brightest new lights
Beacons of the future, ready to receive your jobs"
She reshuffles her papers
"Could all candidates please rise?"

The rustling sound is overwhelming as all the young people stand
Fidgeting at clothes they've never worn, in shoes they don't fill
I swallow hard and look around the enormous auditorium
I'm not the only one stealing a glance

I only recognise a handful of people, mostly girls, all from my school code
We've shared the same classes since we were four years old
You would think after all that time together, we might have some kind of friendship
We don't
Lisa was my only friend, she was different from the other girls
She was more like me, or maybe I was like her?
Generally, students don't have much exposure to each other socially outside of school
I guess the city doesn't think it's worth it
Once we're partnered, our previous lives don't matter anymore

I spot Sarah Parker, looking around to see who's noticed her
It would be hard to miss her in the gaudy orange dress she's chosen
Unfortunately, we make eye contact
Sarah smiles, correction: smirks

I think back to school, when Sarah would mock Lisa for her family's lower ranking
Sarah's father, like mine, has a role in the Mayor's office, which will help our job placement
Maybe even influence how we're partnered
I loathe Sarah for every minute that she relishes in it
But I hate myself more for not standing up for Lisa back then
I was supposed to be her best friend

"Pay attention!" Mum hisses beside me
Then I realise they're calling the graduates to the front of the stage
I make my way down the stairs towards the pool of eligible young people
Standing amongst the crowd of adolescents
Struck by the nauseating mix of perfume and aftershave
I look around, still half expecting to see Lisa
Wanting to, Lisa would have laughed at my blistered heels
She would have put bandaids on at home before she left
She was always so prepared

I smile at a girl who's playing nervously with a handkerchief beside me
She smiles back, and I feel a little less alone
I look around again, searching for a face I might recognise
I had promised myself I wouldn't be nervous
A part of me is worried that I might get the same job as my internship
But I'm trying not to think of that exceptional torture
Anyway, it doesn't matter what position I get placed in
I will always have to watch myself
If losing Lisa taught me anything, it's that

A vacant sort of resignation settles in my chest
I watch some girls giggling, their arms linked
Many of the boys are slapping each other on the shoulder, friends
While we mill around, the great Councillor Corrumpere is still talking
Like all the others, I hardly pay any attention
I move around, listening to the hushed chatter mixing in with her speech

"Jubilee, I hope we're together, chosen ones, anything but that"
Someone bumps me, I look up and realise how close I am to the imposing stage
"Alright children," the councillor calls us to attention, her spiel to the parents concluded
"You are our next generation, our greatest achievement
You are the future Our Metropolis City"
Her words have a silencing effect on the gathered youth
We are all still
She looks at us through her watery, grey eyes, hungry
I can see now that up closer, her teeth aren't sharp
But I still can't shake the image from my mind

"I will call our children to the stage individually
Each will receive their job placement then return to their family seating
Please hold any applause to the end"
That last request is accompanied by a stern look at the gathered audience
I don't think anyone would dare defy that look

I feel a twisting knot of anticipation form in my stomach
Stop it, this doesn't mean anything
But still, it churns
A glance around tells me I'm not the only one

"Pretty intense, huh?" I hear someone say
There's no reply, and I look around
A boy is standing beside me, smiling
It crinkles his freckly nose
I open my mouth to reply, but I can't think of anything to say
"Don't you reckon?" he asks, I close my mouth and nod
He nods with me, and the action makes his sandy hair flop over his eyes
He looks nice, kind
A strange thought occurs to me, "I wonder if I'm talking to my future partner?"
Could he be?

I swallow, then try to smile back, but he's already turned away
I didn't expect to feel disappointed
I'm not used to talking to boys
It's never encouraged, especially not at school
I want to ask what his school code is, to find out what neighbourhood he's from
He turns back to me, "Y'think this is so crazy, my new shoes are killing my feet"
"Me too!" I exclaim, a few people turn to give us annoyed looks
I whisper, "I'm not sure if we're allowed to talk"
He shrugs, looking around, "Everyone else is"
This time I do smile, this 'talking to a stranger' business is easy enough

"M'yeah, I guess with all us 'chosen ones' gathered here, there are too many to sanitise"
I laugh awkwardly
I have said the wrong thing
The boy's eyes freeze over, and his face turns to stone
I want to kick myself
I don't know these people, I need to be more careful!
People don't joke about sanitisation
I take a step closer, and try to catch the boy's eye to apologise
Quickly, he turns away, muttering about 'getting a closer view'
And then he's disappeared behind the crowd of adolescents

My attention returns to the stage, as the audience breaks into a polite smattering of applause
And then there he is, the sandy-haired boy, marching stoically up to receive his job
"We congratulate you, Charlie
On your appointment to electrical maintenance at the Metropolis substation
Your work will help us grow our great city"
Charlie shakes hands with Councillor Corrumpere
Then walks across the stage to two more suit-wearing councillors
When did they get here?
He shakes their hands too, posing for a photo
I realise I need to start paying attention
I follow electrical maintenance worker Charlie
Until he's lost in the throng of people on the other side of the stage

"We congratulate you, Helen" Corrumpere continues from the podium
There, I see him, climbing the stairs to his family's row
"Teddy Veodrum" I hear my name over the speakers
A few people from my school code turn to look
As I start to make my way through the massive bodies
As I move towards the stairs on the left of the stage, I can see that they're grated
Perfect for catching the thin heel of these stupid shoes
I wish this process were private, all of it
But we are not afforded the luxury of privacy, especially not at this time in our lives
I can feel my hand shaking as I grip onto the metal rail beside the stairs
Don't slip, don't get stuck

I take two more steps and dare to glance out
The lights shining on the stage are so bright I have to look away
Blinking away the glaze of tears, I count five more stairs
I can see the councilwoman staring at me with her cold, grey eyes
As I approach, I ball my clammy hands into fists by my sides
Every step I take, I can hear an echo
I glance around and realise it's me, it's my shoes
They clatter across the stage
I feel like a lie
I don't wear shoes like this
I'm not a mother, a wife yet

Three more steps, I look up and Councillor Corrumpere's pursed mouth
Breaks out into her trademark saccharine smile
"We congratulate you, Teddy, on your appointment at Metropolis Magazine
You will work with some of the greatest voices of our City"
She extends her hand to me
I look out to the crowd, then look back, step forward, then take her hand
Her grip is uncomfortably firm and is cold despite all the flesh it's been touching

I let go before she does
She doesn't tell or show me where to go
"Kyle Reep," She reads out
I look around for the exit, then walk towards the two men
Beckoning to me sternly from the other end of the stage
They don't smile, one of the councillors steps forward and takes my hand
I notice a flash but can't see a photographer
He lets go and the other man takes my hand
Another flash from the camera
I'm sure I must look stunned

"Down the stairs," the second man says, already looking at the kid behind me
I step off the stage, then walk back to my mother
Climbing the stairs up to row 57 to join the "elite"
No one would dare say it, but we know how it works
Your family's name is the council's ranking system
According to my father, our council needed a way to ensure their positions are filled
And using surnames makes overseeing this many people much more manageable

I take my seat and Mum pulls me in for a teary hug
She doesn't mask her joy
I try smiling, to look as happy as she feels, but I can't
"You're so lucky," she whispers in my ear
I wonder how much influence my father had in my new job
Set to be working alongside her, a high-ranking position for a high-ranking family
She sits back and dabs her eyes with a cotton handkerchief
I look down towards where I saw that boy go
His family don't look happy
I don't know if it's the distance or an illusion, but I swear I can see his mother frowning

For the remainder of the ceremony, I'm stuck in a loop
Watching each parent receive their child with different emotions
At one point, Mum squeezed my hand and whispers
"I'm glad I'll be able to keep you close"
I squeeze back

Every family seems to have a different reaction
Some are full of joyful tears for their child's new government role
Some jobs are obviously expected
The recipient greeted with a clap on the shoulder and a kiss
Others are unexpected, gasps of joy
When an E family find out their daughter will work in sanitisation
Clenched jaws when a Q son gets a construction job
It takes hours
I think this is the reason they don't call us in alphabetical order
Jumping from T's to B's means there's no way to know when it's near the end
Finally, the last child is called

Councillor Corrumpere smiles at the audience
"You may now congratulate our lucky recipients!"
The audience erupts in applause, genuinely thunderous this time
Some people stamp their feet while others clap with their hands above their heads
I continue to watch the audience, noticing some people aren't clapping at all
My eyes slip back to the sandy-hair boy and his family
His mother is gripping his arm like a vice while his father claps slowly
His eyes squeezed shut

Deep down in my stomach, I feel that knot twisting its way back in
"You're so lucky," Mum whispers in my ear again, following my line of sight
She gives me a look that suggests she knows what I've been thinking
I turn my attention back to the now-empty stage
The oversized banner of our city's eye gazing over us
Always watching
My hands start to feel numb, a sensation that quickly spreads through my body

The longer we clap, the more I understand
None of this is about luck at all