The mirror glared at me from the wall, its frame posing a frown. I sighed, picking at my braid until all the stray hairs settled perfectly back into place, and applied my makeup with the most delicate care. Perfect. The word left a rotten taste in my mouth.
Assured that not a wrinkle creased my dress and that no blemishes strained my face, I glanced at the schedule at my desk. First, English, then Science, Government , and Math, followed by a small social gathering, and then rest.
They had removed art and history almost a century ago. It had been too hard perfecting the artistically challenged, resulting in many “expulsions”, so they did away with it all together. The removal of history came a little after, after the Elders had decided it was best not to dwell on the imperfections of our ancestors.
The small watch on my wrist vibrated and I started down the stairs for breakfast. Father smiled at me from the table, a little too wide; the daily newspaper, a mandatory read for men, clutched in his hands.
“Good morning Rose,” my mother spoke, her eyes meeting with mine as she placed the perfectly cooked eggs on the table, a perfect portion on each of the three plates. “I hope you slept well.”
I forced a smile on my face. “I slept very well, thank you. The eggs look delicious Mother.”
She returned my smile, the grin as artificial as the perfectly maintained grass outside, and took her place at the dinner table. I followed her lead, and poked at my eggs with my fork, spooning them slowly into my mouth.
“What are you reading, John, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mother asked, turning to Father.
“A very interesting article on the Elders’ newest law,” Father informed us. “They have decided to outlaw bikes, a very practical decision, which has saved many from being expulsed from the city.”
The laws changed nearly every day, a slight alteration some days, a major inconvenience others. Only a few laws have stayed constant, such as the limit of one child per couple, considered the perfect size for a family, and English as a world-wide language. Of course, the basics had been established forever; perfect appearance, perfect actions, perfect performance.
I nodded. “That sounds great, Father,” I lied. “Sorry to interrupt.”
He nodded. “It’s no problem.” He returned to reading.
I finished my eggs, taking my plate up to the dishwasher. “Thank you so much for the lovely breakfast Mother.”
“Any time, Rose. I expect you to be home for rest time today. City hall has decided to decrease my shift by a few hours, so I should be home for rest as well.”
I nodded. “Goodbye Mother. Goodbye Father.”
“Goodbye Rose,” they murmured, a smile plastered on their faces.
I waved, and hurried to the bus, right on time as usual.
I hopped on, sitting next to my best friend Sophie, assigned to me since the first day of school. Our traits balanced out perfectly and our similarities were numerous.
“Good morning, Sophia.” I forced a smile, taking my seat next to her.
“Good morning, Rose,” she replied with the standard handshake. “It’s very nice to see you.”
“It is very nice to see you too. Have you had a nice day?” I asked, typical procedure.
“Yes, thank you for asking. I spent it reading, one of the many activities we have in common. And you?” Her voice was pleasant, polite, fake; the one we had been taught to use since childhood.
“Yes, I had a very nice day. I wrote in my journal.”
The bus ride was silent, smoothly driving over perfectly paved roads until we arrived at the school, a perfect brick rectangular building.
I stepped off, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and entered.
“Does anyone know when our government was founded?” The teacher asked, standing at the front of the room.
We all raised our hands, as instructed, and she selected a small boy in the back of the room known as Tommy.
“The government we are acquainted with today was established in 3082.” His voice was shaky, despite having heard this answer a thousand times prior in Government class, knowing the incorrect answer could get him expulsed.
I had never witnessed any expulsion myself, but they were common throughout the city, occurring whenever a person had erred. All I knew was the expulsed were always taken by big, burly men in black jackets, and were never seen again.
“Correct,” the teacher stated bluntly. “Why was this system put into place?”
Hands raised simultaneously.
“The government realized that we weren’t living up to our full potential and that our imperfectness was dragging us down.”
“Correct. Who are the leaders of our society?”
I raised my hand, and heard her call my name.
I swallowed, the answer clear. “The Elders, the council who creates laws and elects the authorities.”
She nodded. “Correct.”
More questions, more answers.
Every one perfect.
My house was a standard issue home, built on the corner of our block, white and modest. A small garden, tended by my mother, stretched in the front, and a willow tree bended to the side.
I twisted the knob and entered, stepping into the den. “Mother?” I called.
It was then that I heard the scream. It ripped through the air like a blade, slamming into my ears like a brick. Screams were not allowed in the city.
I panicked, throwing down my books and ran to the source. My mother cowered in the kitchen, her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face.
I stared at her in horror and shock, a sickening feeling gnawing at my stomach. I was speechless, my face white, my nails digging into my palms until blood pricked them.
She lifted her standard, perfect brown eyes to mine, and whimpered. “I broke it.”
I glanced at the shards of the broken dish on the floor, my heart twisting. This was illegal. My eyes widened in realization. My mother would be expulsed.
Suddenly she stood, a determined, fierce expression blazing in her eyes. Her scared, frightened demeanor was now gone. “Rose, don’t cry. You’ll only get expulsed too.”
I swiped at my eyes, willing my tears to stop. For her. For Mother.
She kneeled down to my height. “We only have five minutes. Rose, I need you to know that no one is perfect. This society in itself is imperfect. You need to run Rose, you need to resist. Do you understand?”
I nodded, even though some of her words befuddled me.
She reached for me and pressed me into a tight hug. “I love you Rose,” she whispered, “so much.”
“I love you too Mom.”
There was a loud thump at the door, and loud masculine voices traveled to me. Fear ran up my spine, and widened my eyes, freezing my veins.
“Be strong, Rose.” She kissed my head, and walked bravely towards the door, awaiting her fate.
I stood there, unsure, tears almost pricking my eyes as I watched her waiting. Finally, with one last glance, I gathered myself together and walked calmly to my room, pretending to be oblivious to the trouble my mother was in. I sat on my bed, perfectly made, and stared at the perfectly white walls, and I acted, just like I had been doing my whole life.
I ignored the men crouched in the den, shouting at my mother. I ignored her cries of pain when they grabbed her wrists her too tight. I ignored the sounds of her resistance, futile against their bulging muscles and fancy gadgets. And then, silence.
I stood, dusting off my dress, wiping my tear-studded eyes as my fear faded to something else, something sinister and dark. Everything was quiet, perfect, just like it had always been.
I stared calmly at the perfect room, the perfect house, the perfect family.
Everything was so perfect.
Or at least, it used to be.
Assured that not a wrinkle creased my dress and that no blemishes strained my face, I glanced at the schedule at my desk. First, English, then Science, Government , and Math, followed by a small social gathering, and then rest.
They had removed art and history almost a century ago. It had been too hard perfecting the artistically challenged, resulting in many “expulsions”, so they did away with it all together. The removal of history came a little after, after the Elders had decided it was best not to dwell on the imperfections of our ancestors.
The small watch on my wrist vibrated and I started down the stairs for breakfast. Father smiled at me from the table, a little too wide; the daily newspaper, a mandatory read for men, clutched in his hands.
“Good morning Rose,” my mother spoke, her eyes meeting with mine as she placed the perfectly cooked eggs on the table, a perfect portion on each of the three plates. “I hope you slept well.”
I forced a smile on my face. “I slept very well, thank you. The eggs look delicious Mother.”
She returned my smile, the grin as artificial as the perfectly maintained grass outside, and took her place at the dinner table. I followed her lead, and poked at my eggs with my fork, spooning them slowly into my mouth.
“What are you reading, John, if you don’t mind me asking?” Mother asked, turning to Father.
“A very interesting article on the Elders’ newest law,” Father informed us. “They have decided to outlaw bikes, a very practical decision, which has saved many from being expulsed from the city.”
The laws changed nearly every day, a slight alteration some days, a major inconvenience others. Only a few laws have stayed constant, such as the limit of one child per couple, considered the perfect size for a family, and English as a world-wide language. Of course, the basics had been established forever; perfect appearance, perfect actions, perfect performance.
I nodded. “That sounds great, Father,” I lied. “Sorry to interrupt.”
He nodded. “It’s no problem.” He returned to reading.
I finished my eggs, taking my plate up to the dishwasher. “Thank you so much for the lovely breakfast Mother.”
“Any time, Rose. I expect you to be home for rest time today. City hall has decided to decrease my shift by a few hours, so I should be home for rest as well.”
I nodded. “Goodbye Mother. Goodbye Father.”
“Goodbye Rose,” they murmured, a smile plastered on their faces.
I waved, and hurried to the bus, right on time as usual.
I hopped on, sitting next to my best friend Sophie, assigned to me since the first day of school. Our traits balanced out perfectly and our similarities were numerous.
“Good morning, Sophia.” I forced a smile, taking my seat next to her.
“Good morning, Rose,” she replied with the standard handshake. “It’s very nice to see you.”
“It is very nice to see you too. Have you had a nice day?” I asked, typical procedure.
“Yes, thank you for asking. I spent it reading, one of the many activities we have in common. And you?” Her voice was pleasant, polite, fake; the one we had been taught to use since childhood.
“Yes, I had a very nice day. I wrote in my journal.”
The bus ride was silent, smoothly driving over perfectly paved roads until we arrived at the school, a perfect brick rectangular building.
I stepped off, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and entered.
“Does anyone know when our government was founded?” The teacher asked, standing at the front of the room.
We all raised our hands, as instructed, and she selected a small boy in the back of the room known as Tommy.
“The government we are acquainted with today was established in 3082.” His voice was shaky, despite having heard this answer a thousand times prior in Government class, knowing the incorrect answer could get him expulsed.
I had never witnessed any expulsion myself, but they were common throughout the city, occurring whenever a person had erred. All I knew was the expulsed were always taken by big, burly men in black jackets, and were never seen again.
“Correct,” the teacher stated bluntly. “Why was this system put into place?”
Hands raised simultaneously.
“The government realized that we weren’t living up to our full potential and that our imperfectness was dragging us down.”
“Correct. Who are the leaders of our society?”
I raised my hand, and heard her call my name.
I swallowed, the answer clear. “The Elders, the council who creates laws and elects the authorities.”
She nodded. “Correct.”
More questions, more answers.
Every one perfect.
My house was a standard issue home, built on the corner of our block, white and modest. A small garden, tended by my mother, stretched in the front, and a willow tree bended to the side.
I twisted the knob and entered, stepping into the den. “Mother?” I called.
It was then that I heard the scream. It ripped through the air like a blade, slamming into my ears like a brick. Screams were not allowed in the city.
I panicked, throwing down my books and ran to the source. My mother cowered in the kitchen, her hands over her ears, tears streaming down her face.
I stared at her in horror and shock, a sickening feeling gnawing at my stomach. I was speechless, my face white, my nails digging into my palms until blood pricked them.
She lifted her standard, perfect brown eyes to mine, and whimpered. “I broke it.”
I glanced at the shards of the broken dish on the floor, my heart twisting. This was illegal. My eyes widened in realization. My mother would be expulsed.
Suddenly she stood, a determined, fierce expression blazing in her eyes. Her scared, frightened demeanor was now gone. “Rose, don’t cry. You’ll only get expulsed too.”
I swiped at my eyes, willing my tears to stop. For her. For Mother.
She kneeled down to my height. “We only have five minutes. Rose, I need you to know that no one is perfect. This society in itself is imperfect. You need to run Rose, you need to resist. Do you understand?”
I nodded, even though some of her words befuddled me.
She reached for me and pressed me into a tight hug. “I love you Rose,” she whispered, “so much.”
“I love you too Mom.”
There was a loud thump at the door, and loud masculine voices traveled to me. Fear ran up my spine, and widened my eyes, freezing my veins.
“Be strong, Rose.” She kissed my head, and walked bravely towards the door, awaiting her fate.
I stood there, unsure, tears almost pricking my eyes as I watched her waiting. Finally, with one last glance, I gathered myself together and walked calmly to my room, pretending to be oblivious to the trouble my mother was in. I sat on my bed, perfectly made, and stared at the perfectly white walls, and I acted, just like I had been doing my whole life.
I ignored the men crouched in the den, shouting at my mother. I ignored her cries of pain when they grabbed her wrists her too tight. I ignored the sounds of her resistance, futile against their bulging muscles and fancy gadgets. And then, silence.
I stood, dusting off my dress, wiping my tear-studded eyes as my fear faded to something else, something sinister and dark. Everything was quiet, perfect, just like it had always been.
I stared calmly at the perfect room, the perfect house, the perfect family.
Everything was so perfect.
Or at least, it used to be.
snowgirl
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