wack’s poetica

This is a short story I wrote for a science fiction class in high school, back when I was still creative without effort. Sure I could edit it, sophisticate it, and I might, maybe even submit it somewhere.

I actually thought I published this like two weeks ago and that everyone had stopped reading, but I have problems with wordpress and save vs. publish apparently. Okay, so click publish, here ya go.

It was going to be a big week. The biggest week in fifteen years. There was a certain buzz in the air, and Traxslomidir could sense the excitement as he wandered around town with his two friends, Marxmarin and Jenkinnie. “THE BIG CHANGE IS COMING” read the banners strung up across the town hall and in windows.

The three young men came to a stop in front of a large brick building. Lottery Center said the sign above the doors.

“What do you think it’ll be like?” Jenk questioned.

“I have no clue,” Marx said. “Trax?”

Trax stared at the building, concentrating on it. “Are you scared?” he said softly.

“Nah,” Marx said, waving his hand dismissively and shifting his eyes downward.

“Yes.” Jenk looked Trax in the eyes. “Yes, I am.”

Trax nodded. “We should get back to the Pod, our parents are going to worry.”

All three boys had grown up in the same living complex, better known as Pods, playing together after each had the days’ lessons on their Teacher. They were all fifteen, just like all the other boys and girls in the world. They all had the same face and build, except for slight variations in eye and hair color. All the girls looked the same, too. And their parents: merely older looking versions of themselves.

Back at the Pod, Trax said goodbye to his friends and parted as he opened the door to his family’s quarters. His sister and mother were sitting at the kitchen table, talking. His sister, Wilquer, wore a look of worry on her face.

“But what if I don’t like him?” Wilquer was saying.

“Don’t worry, you will.” Mother patted her hand in condoling reassurance. “You will.”

Wilquer sighed.

“Hey, Trax,” greeted Mother when she noticed him standing there.

“Hello, Mom.” Trax sat down at the table with his mother and sister. “Talking about ‘the big change?’ “

Mother smiled. “Yes, we are.”

“I always wondered about it,” Trax hinted, “and you never did tell us.”

Mother exchanged looks with Wilquer. “Would you like to me to tell you?”

Trax nodded, and Wilquer left the table to go to her room. “What’s her problem?” Trax asked.

“She’s just upset right now,” Mother explained. “It’ll pass.”

“I take it you told her.”

“Yes.”

Trax grimaced. “I’m not so sure I want to know.”

Mother took a sip of her coffee. “It’s not so bad. It’s just the way things are. It takes some getting used to.”

“So?” He was waiting.

“The so-called Lottery was a system thought of about 4000 years ago, after the revolution. The world had virtually destroyed itself with overpopulation, disease and war. The only people to survive were a few scientists and philosophers. They decided that this time when they started civilization over again, they were going to do it right. They decided to fill the world with only beauty. They decided that they would make life simpler and more productive.

“Because all the survivors were male and obviously could not reproduce, and a few of the scientists just happened to be geneticists, they generated a few babies. Not just any babies though. Babies that were guaranteed to grow up to be beautiful. They wrote this formula down, and every fifteen years they generated a few more babies, and then fifteen years later, those babies generated more babies, and so on and so forth. And do you know what those babies looked like?”

“Like you and like me,” Trax whispered.

Mother nodded. “And after the world reached a population of about four billion, considered to be the ideal, they stopped making extra babies. There were one billion females in the world and one billion males in the world and when they were fifteen years old, they were paired off into couples and given two babies, one male and one female, making a total of four billion. Eventually, each of those children would turn fifteen themselves, couple off and be given their own two babies. Since then, the world population has always been four billion, and it always will be. Four billion beautiful people, half babies, half adults, half male, half female.” She smiled and looked into the distance.

“Okay, so I understand up to this point,” Trax stated, “but where exactly does the Lottery come in?”

“With the simplification part,” his mother told him. “Tomorrow you’ll go to the Lottery Center. You’ll randomly be assigned a career and a wife. A simple and productive life simply doesn’t allow for people to mosey around, trying to figure out what they want to do. Things need to get done, and it only takes certain numbers of people to get each thing done. Entered into the computer is each job, and only enough of each job is assigned. There will never be too many or too little people doing a certain job.”

“But assigned wives?” Trax questioned.

Mother chuckled. “Love isn’t very simple, nor productive. From what I’ve heard, romantic love isn’t even that beautiful; it can be pretty painful at times. And our society is virtually pain-free. I wouldn’t worry about it. You’ll like your wife. Maybe you’ll even grow to love her. You know that she’ll be beautiful, nice and peaceful. We’re all genetically engineered to be this way. Besides, it doesn’t really matter. The only reason you’re coupled off is to ensure that your children are raised properly.”

Trax studied the lines in his hand. “What about Wilquer?”

“Oh, she’ll get a husband. There’s even a very slim chance that you could end up married to her.” Mother smiled. “She’ll get her own career, and she’ll take part in raising her son and daughter. You’ll still be able to mail her, of course, and even see her every once in awhile, if possible. She could end up in another territory.”

Trax sat and let it sink in. He thought for awhile about four billion people, adults and babies, males and females, the job he would randomly be assigned and the wife, whoever she would be, and the two babies they would be given and how in fifteen years, he could be 30 telling his babies the same thing that his Mother was telling him, and these babies would get their own babies. He thought about how one day, he’d be 30, just like his mother, and all the other adults in the world. Suddenly, Trax realized that never in his life had he met anyone fifteen years older than his parents. “Mom?” he whispered.

“Yes, dear?” she answered eerily, as though from another dimension.

“What’s going to happen to you? Where do people go when they’re thirty? Where are your parents?” Trax’s questions rushed from his mouth with worry and confusion.

Mother bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment. “It is said that after the age of thirty, one’s looks begin to diminish and so does their usefulness. I honestly can’t tell you if this is true, because, of course my own parents left when they were thirty and I was fifteen.”

“Left? Left for where?”

“Mars.”

Trax stared at her with an expression of horror. “You’re banished to another planet?”

“There’s no room here on Earth for anything that is not of youth, beauty or usefulness. It’s not really banished, though. Mars has its own atmosphere now, its perfectly livable, and none of the same rules apply. I wouldn’t have to stay with your father if I didn’t want to. I’d be free to fall in love with whomever I wanted. And I’ll be able to find my parents again, and meet my grandparents, if they’re still alive. They’ll be sixty.”

Trax had no room in his mind to even envision what a sixty year old person would look like. “Are you scared?”

“Nervous more than scared, I think. I can’t really be sure of what it’s like; the Martians aren’t allowed to have contact with the Earthlings. I don’t know if they have a Utopian government like ours. Maybe they even have countries and borders— I wonder what that’s like. I wonder if they ever have wars there. I don’t even have rumors to go by. I guess I’ll just have to see.”

Trax was quiet.

“You don’t have to be so upset,” Mother said, getting up to wrap her arms around him. “It’s the way life is. The way it’s supposed to be. You can’t argue with four thousand successful years. I’m going to bed now.” She ruffled his hair and went off to her bedroom quarters, which were separate from her husbands.

Trax went to his own quarters to go to bed, but he didn’t sleep. All he could think about was the fact that a week from now, he would be living with a strange woman and two newly generated children, and his parents would be on a ship to Mars, never to be heard from for fifteen years.

Trax’s father went with him to the Lottery Center the next day at one in the afternoon. Wilquer had already left at eight in the morning to receive her occupation and to be entered into the worldwide computer system in order to be picked at random by the males later on in the day.

The females were in a different area of the Lottery Center, waiting to be notified when they were picked, so Trax wouldn’t see Wilquer until later that night for their last family supper.

It was a very beautiful day outside and the sun shone high and bright.

“Nice day,” his father said to him.

Trax nodded in agreement. “Very nice.”

It was all they ever said, despite the fact that his father stood next to him in line for two hours. It didn’t bother Trax much, though. His father was always a man of few words, and he knew that this was his way of expressing things. From the looks they exchanged every so often, Trax knew his father was proud of him and excited for him, but still worried about the fate that lay before him. Trax wondered if the sun felt as warm on Mars as it did on Earth.

Finally, it was Trax’s turn. “Good luck,” his dad said, patted his shoulder and turned around.

Trax stepped up to the platform, and was greeted by an official wearing a namebadge that read, “Meskan, Government”.

“Good morning, Meskan,” Trax said cheerfully as the official scanned his I.D. chip behind his left ear.

“Name, Traxslomidir, identification number 43678942668, generated 4045.6.15, parented by number 4345678980, Jesqua, and number 4359876234, Minnlock,” Meskan read off of the scanner, and Trax nodded in confirmation that his information was correct. “Okay then Trax, it will only take you a few moments to fill in the occupation and spouse blanks. The children blanks will be filled in a few days.” Meskan stepped aside to reveal the large computer which held Trax’s future.

The large screen was flashing the names of jobs still available at an unreadable speed. Trax’s head dizzied. A button below the screen, which said “occupation” was blinking red.

“Just press the button,” Meskan explained, “and it’ll stop; that’ll be your job for the next 15 years.”

Trax tried to dismiss his nervousness but couldn’t. His finger was trembling as he slowly and cautiously pushed the blinking button in.

“Congratulations, Traxslomidir, you’re going to be a generator. Preparing the babies that your babies will raise. You should be proud.” A tear came to Meskan’s eye, as he entered the new information into the computer.

Trax didn’t know what to think about spending his next fifteen years making beautiful babies for babies. Maybe he should be thankful that he would be able to see his own grandchildren.

Trax wasn’t so nervous about the wife drawing. Before him flashed the names of all the available woman. Whatever name it stopped on, except for her appearance, it would be the same complete mystery. That is, unless by some twist of fate, he would manage to pick Wilquer. Trax smiled at the thought of spending the next 15 years with his sister and hoped for the best. He plunged in and hit the blinking “wife” button.

But Wilquer’s name didn’t come up. The screen said, “Jasmir, number 489250012748,” which meant nothing to him. Meskan entered the information and bid Trax farewell. Trax noted that Meskan must have a terrible job, giving away the world to its inherits, knowing that he’d be leaving very soon.

That night was the last night that they’d be together, as a family, at least for another fifteen years. They had an actual dinner together. Wilquer spoke excitedly about the fact that she was going to be a lounge keeper, and was being coupled with someone named Nepar, who was going to be an engineer.

“My, my,” said Mother, “seems like we’re going to be leaving quite a successful little generation down here.

The dinner was pretty quiet after that.

The next day was the day of departure. Trax and Wilquer went to the spaceport with their parents to see them off. Each was carrying a small suitcase that held all of the belongings that a minimalist government would allow them to have. Trax went up to his mother and wrapped his arms around her, tears streaming down his cheeks.

Mother sniffled. “Trax, Trax,” she whispered.

“I hope you find your parents,” he choked out.

“I hope you find me,” she whispered, “when it’s your turn.”

“Are you and Dad going to stay together?” he asked her as they let go to face each other.

Mother glanced over to the man consoling her daughter. “We’ve decided that we’ll see what it’s like when we get up there. We don’t want to make the journey alone, but we don’t want to feel obligated to each other if other opportunities come up.” She sort of giggled. “We want to fall in love. I mean, I’ll always love your father as the man I’ve lived with for fifteen years and with whom I’ve helped raise you two. We’ll never lose touch; we’ll always have you. I wonder if my own parents are still together?”

Trax looked at his mother with adoring eyes and in a new light. She had been where he was when he had come along and been thrust into her life. She had done it. In the fifteen years that they’d known each other, she had raised him and loved him, and now that she was done, it was her turn to let her children take the whole beautiful world into their own hands. Trax hoped that when it was his turn to give his life away, that he could do it as selflessly as his mother had. “Are you ready?” he asked her.

“I’m ready,” she said, again with that far off look in her eye. “I’m old and wise now, and I’m ready to face a new, unsheltered world. I’m ready to walk amongst the old. I’m ready for an uninnocent world, filled with experiences. I’m ready for whatever Mars holds. I’m ready to discover its secrets, its mystery. I’m ready for love and for pain and new rules. Maybe it’ll be like the ancient world; computers with keypads instead of voice command, ovens where you make your own food, books on printed paper. I’m ready to do it for myself. Maybe the Utopian government doesn’t know what perfect society is.” She smiled and nodded. “I’m ready.”

“You’re ready, Jesqua?” Father asked, coming up behind her, laying his hand on her shoulder. “Nice day,” he smiled to Trax.

Trax looked up to the sky and smiled at the sun. “Gorgeous.”

Mother looked up too and sighed. She made a kissing face to the sun and then turned to her husband. “I’m ready, Minnlock,” she said, taking his hand in hers.

Trax and Wilquer stood together and watched as their parents boarded the spacecraft. Only once did Mother turn back and say, “Fifteen years isn’t an eternity.” There was no need for goodbyes, because it wasn’t.

On the way back to the Pod, Trax and Wilquer stopped at the playground where they had played when they were young. The equipment was dusty now, since there had been no new generation of children to play. Trax thought of how soon his son and daughter would be playing here with him and his mystery wife, Jasmir.

Wilquer left later that evening to take the monorail to meet her husband. She promised to write and visit all the time.

Law said that the wife would go to live with the husband in his previous family’s pod, which left Trax with some relief. At least we would still be able to stay with his friends, Jenk and Marx. After all, their fathers had been friends, and grandfathers, and every generation back since the Pod was built.

The next day Jasmir arrived. Trax had been sleeping in his mother’s old quarters so he showed her to his father’s quarter. She seemed pleasant enough, very quiet though. Mostly she tiptoed about, trying not to disturb him. Trax sort of dismissed her at first, figuring there was plenty of time for getting to know each other later. He was too busy thinking about his parents to think about actually becoming one.

A few nights after Jasmir first arrived, Trax was standing out on the balcony, staring at the stars. Jasmir noticed him out there and slipped out to join him.

“Looking for Mars?” she asked quietly, glancing at him.

Trax nodded. “They all look the same–just like stars… so far away….”

“Did you go to see your parents off?” she questioned.

“Yah,” Trax said.

“So did I.” She was quiet for a moment. “I miss them, but they’re probably in a better place.”

Trax turned to look at her as she gazed skyward. Her hair was blond, the same shade as his mother’s. Jasmir looked just like a younger version.

She turned to look at him and met his stare. Her and his mother had the same eyes, too. Not only the soft grey-blue color, but the sullenness of the stare.

“The children are being delivered tomorrow,” she stated. “Maybe it’s time for us to stop worrying about our parents and worrying about becoming parents.”

“Fifteen years isn’t an eternity,” he said softly. “Just last week we were still babies and now we’re getting some.” Trax smiled.

“I was wondering– do you think it would be possible for us to name the male baby after my father?” Jasmir bit her lip as she made her request, scared of stepping into the wrong territory.

But Trax was fine with it. “As long as we can name the girl after my mother,” he smiled.

“Deal,” she grinned as she firmly shook his hand.

The next day, as Traxslomidir held his new-generated daughter in his arms, he wondered which beautiful baby Jesqua was in heaven and which was in hell.