K. C. Gray, Singular Multiplicity
excerpt
Singular Multiplicity Publisher: K. C. Gray Date: August 27, 2021 Length: 418 pages ISBN: 0578959437; 978-0578959436 |
Chapter 3: Memories
Briana flexed her shoulders to work out building tension. Sitting in her seat at the back of the classroom, she struggled to stay focused. The book, open in her lap, consisted of lumpy, brown paper bound with string. Hand-written information about geography filled the pages. Not a single word interested her.
Mrs. Preston paced the front of the class. Her garnet hair, in a braided-crown hairstyle, matched her skin. “As a geographer, you’ll be out in the field for most of your lives, dealing with cold and loneliness. By the end of school, you should be prepared to take on this task for the good of the population. The trees at Mountainous, the base of the mountain, will be priority for you.”
Like any other public building, nothing decorated the room. Twenty chairs crafted from the black wood of trees, lights embedded in the ceiling, and smooth red-brown walls offered no visual stimuli. If she could, Briana would enliven this room with color. Bright orange rhombi, deep crimson triangles, trapezoids varying from gold to corn yellow. She’d set the trapezoids in the center, letting the corn yellow be at the heart, then rhombi outline those. The triangles would feather around the other shapes, creating interesting peaks and valleys.
The image building in her mind took shape all at once. A fire? Odd thought. No, an odd image to build. What she’d once considered interesting shapes and colors, providing texture to an otherwise dull room, resembled a fire. Burning bright. Nestled in a recess of her mind.
She squeezed her eyes shut, letting black reset her visual palette. She snapped her eyes back open.
The teacher pivoted, causing her ankle-length, brass-colored skirt to swish. “With roughly one-hundred million square kilometers available to us, we need to constantly perform surveys. Can anyone tell me why?”
Pavlo’s hand shot up. He sat at the front of the class with an ankle over a knee and his book splayed out in his lap. His stance contrasted with every other student who sat straight with their shoulders squared, standing out like a dissenter.
While her father meant well, she obviously shouldn’t socialize with Pavlo. Considering the lecture her dad had given her, he’d agree had he witnessed this.
Mrs. Preston glanced over the other students even though none of them raised their hand. Finally, with a heavy sigh, she nodded to Pavlo.
“We have to keep track of viable trees that we can use to produce more goods. We also need to know if Via shifts her mountain.”
Mrs. Preston’s eyes lit. “Correct! The first thing — ”
Pavlo’s hand shot up, again.
Mrs. Preston shook her head. “I didn’t ask a question.”
The class tittered, but Briana cocked her head. How could he have made that mistake?
“I know, Mrs. Preston,” Pavlo responded. “I have a question.”
“Any questions about school should be directed to the Registration Department.”
“This is about the text, ma’am.”
Briana flushed cold, several classmates gasped, and the teacher gripped her book.
“The text is perfect, Pavlo. What question could you possibly have?”
“Well, ma’am, Via takes our dead to the base of the mountain and then creates trees in that same area.”
“Of course. You should have learned that years ago.”
“I did, but how does it happen? What’s the process?”
Mrs. Preston’s brow crinkled. She cocked her head. “You explained the process. Via takes the bodies and then produces trees from them.”
“I know that, but how? I mean, we ...” Pavlo set his book on the floor beside him. He scooted to the edge of his chair. “We cut trees to create furniture, and we break the left-over pieces down further for the threads. We know those processes, but we don’t know what part or section grows first. What are the mechanics? Why do bodies break apart? How do trees grow?”
Sweat glistened on Mrs. Preston’s upper lip; she inhaled sharply, slammed her book shut, and took slow steps to Pavlo. He straightened in his chair.
Briana froze. What is he thinking?
“Mr. Ishii, I don’t know which village you came from, but we do not ask gratuitous questions here!”
Pavlo stiffened, his neck craning to look at Mrs. Preston.
Although she couldn’t see his face, Briana imagined his eyes were as wide as hers. Mrs. Preston had questioned his home village. A quick search would point out all other students who’d come from there. His actions could affect everyone from Mintaka.
Briana wiped sweaty hands on her pants. While her father had attempted to protect her, he’d done the opposite by linking Pavlo with her. No, she’d done it by happily accepting a favor from the governor. They’d never believe Briana barely knew him.
“We don’t concern ourselves with Via’s business,” Mrs. Preston said through gritted teeth. “It isn’t our place to question how she completes her work.”
Pavlo examined the other students. His hazel eyes fell on Briana. She gulped. Did he expect her to speak on his behalf?
He turned to the teacher and nodded. “Understood.”
Mrs. Preston tugged on the bottom of her platinum blouse. “We don’t have long left. You have affected the class for the other students. Try to remember — Via supplies us with all our needs so that we can focus on living. You should have been taught this in Starter; don’t hinder our class in University.”
Pavlo gave another curt nod. He grabbed his book from the floor.
Briana flexed her stiff fingers, calming her mind. She wanted to curl into a corner and disappear.
“Okay, class.” The teacher took her place back up front. “This is the end of your first lesson. Read Chapter One tonight and come prepared to answer questions tomorrow.”
Briana slung her backpack over her shoulder. Clutching her book, she stood.
“Mr. Ishii,” Mrs. Preston said. “Please stay for a moment.”
Briana glanced over while she walked out. Pavlo slunk to Mrs. Preston. She whispered to him.
Outside of the classroom, Briana hesitated. Maybe Pavlo thought way too much. Sooner or later, his thoughts might turn to action and catch up to him... and then to her.
Briana leaned next to the door and drummed her fingers on her side. How could she broach the sub-ject? Outright asking if he were an offender would be foolish in a busy hallway. Maybe they could find an empty classroom. She could ask what the hell was wrong with him and remind him that a governor’s questions would be worse.
What should I say? When he walked out, she’d gently tug on his arm and...
Briana pressed her fingers to her temple to help dull a thudding. A memory flashed in her mind, not from long ago, but right at that moment.
The edges of everything around her had turned thick and wide, like they were in motion: the edges of the doors, people’s hair and clothes, bodies.
Pavlo had stepped out from the classroom, and she’d grasped his forearm.
Although the corners of his mouth had lifted, a sadness had painted his face.
“Did you get in trouble?” she’d asked.
With a shrug, he’d shaken his head.
The memory fades away with a firm squeeze on her shoulder. The urge to heave washes over her, but then dissipates. Briana gasps. The edges, formally thick as if in flux, suddenly thins to where every-thing pops with contrast, crisp and fresh. The pit of her stomach tightens. She is living in the moment.
“Are you okay, Briana?” His flitting eyes searches hers.
She scans Pavlo’s hazel eyes speckled with gold. His hair, clipped close, is so black that it hardly seems a part of his body. And his ears stick out farther than most. He’s so close that their clothes brush against each other. Heat seeps from his body; her skin prickles. Her breath hitches while she stares at the clarity of his face, the crispness of the moment.
“Briana!” Pavlo’s raised voice smashed through the effect and slammed her back into a sense of dullness.
She rubbed her arm, fingers sliding over still stiffened goosebumps. How could she go back to that feeling? How could she live in her skin, again? The present moment, although fleeting, seared into her memory.
“Umm,” she stuttered. “I’m fine. Sorry. My head... I haven’t been feeling well lately.” Though the moment stuck with her, Pavlo’s disturbing behaviors were more pressing.
“Maybe you should go see the doctor.”
Maybe she should’ve walked away, left him with his offensive questions, allowed herself to fall back in line with everyone else. But if he escalated from free-thinking to dissenting, acting against social norms, she’d be swept up in the consequences.
Briana dragged him down the hallway by his forearm. Room after room started filling with students, but one should be empty. She finally found one farther down, near the back of the building.
Pavlo yanked free. He marched into the classroom with her following. She flicked the light on and shut the door.
“Pavlo, what were you thinking?”
His lips thinned into a grimace. “I didn’t mean to single you out.”
“And our home village.”
He plopped down in a seat, hunched over. “I asked one question, Briana. I can’t believe she’d mention our village. I was fine taking the chance for myself, but if Mintaka’s at risk...”
“What did she say?”
“With this being my first day, she’s giving me a second chance.”
Briana rubbed her forehead. “So, you’ll never do it again?”
He shook his head. “I’d hoped more students would be curious. But...” With a huff, he stood and flung his book in the seat. “I don’t get it! Why’s asking certain questions wrong?”
Briana gasped, stepping back with wide eyes, taking in every millimeter of a man who could rip her life away. Her parents’ lives. Everyone in Mintaka. If he couldn’t stop on his own, what options did she have?
Free-thinking held a lesser punishment, a voucher fine which gave the offender a taste of living without society’s benefits. While offering to listen might lead to a fine, waiting for Pavlo to dissent could result in far worse for her and Mintaka.
“Sorry.” His shoulders drooped. He snatched his book and hurried to the door.
If she let him walk away, she’d be gambling her future on his decisions. “Maybe...” she wiped wet palms on her shirt. “I don’t have any answers for you, but maybe it’s better to talk to one person than a room full.”
His eyes shimmered while he watched her. “I asked my dad questions when I was younger. He whipped me pretty good.”
“Apparently not good enough.”
Pavlo chuckled and rested against the door. “I guess not.” He moistened his lips and moved them, as if trying to coerce words out.
Briana crossed her arms and stood strong, despite her legs feeling weak. “When’s your next class?” Maybe she could help him relax, show him that she meant her offer.
“I’ve the next two periods free. It’s a light load since I’ve already decided to be a geographer. You?”
“Going on right now. I haven’t decided on a profession, so I’m taking several to see what I like best.”
“Oh!” He groped behind him and found the doorknob. “I don’t want to keep you.”
“Wait!” She held up her hands. He’d never answered her, never confirmed free-thinking with her instead of other people. If he did the same thing in his next class, she could be grilled by the governors about Mintaka’s beliefs. “How about we meet later to talk?”
Pavlo stared at her as though he wanted to read her mind but also protect his mind from being read.
Briana concentrated on the moment, imagining what he might say, what she could do... and she remembered a moment she’d never experienced before.
The edges of the door above Pavlo’s head thickened and streaked, along with Pavlo’s body, like earlier when everything appeared in flux.
Pavlo had shaken his head. “It’d be wrong to bring you into this. I’ll see you in class.”
Briana had clutched her book. “Pavlo — ”
“Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone about your offer.” He’d opened the door.
“Wait!” Briana rushed forward but stumbled to a stop right before slamming into him.
Pavlo stood in front of the door still shut behind him, the edges of everything looking normal again. His brows furrowed. “You’re worried about me, but maybe I should be worried about you.”
She waved her hand dismissively but looked away. How could she remember events that never happened? He’d opened the door to leave, but simultaneously, he hadn’t moved. She’d figure it out later. For now, she couldn’t let him walk out without knowing if he’d free-think again.
“I’ll listen, Pavlo. If you really have these questions, why not work them out with someone you know? We both have something to lose. I can’t turn you in.”
He gave a slight nod. “It’d be nice to finally talk out some of my thoughts.”
Relief unfurled, but it didn’t feel appropriate. “Tonight, then.”
“No.” He opened the door. “Meet me at the grocery store around midday. You need to see a few things before we talk.” He slipped out.
Briana paced the front of the empty class. She’d already made her decision about Pavlo, so now the odd memories snatched her attention. What happened? That single present moment circled her mind. She’d love to experience it again.
Before she’d experienced the memories, she’d imagined possibilities. Maybe it would work again.
Inhaling deep, she closed her eyes. Her body shivered. A warm sensation permeated her mind. Pursing her lips, she exhaled. What will I do? A new memory emerged: her dashing down the hallway in a tizzy, examining room numbers as they whipped by.
She gasped. Her eyes popped open. Dashing from the room, she tightened her grip on her book. Being late on the first day would be bad enough; not going at all would put a mark on her records and could possibly result in her being expelled. She noted the numbers etched beside each door. Room five. She slipped into the room.
The teacher’s voice clipped short.
Every eye turned to her.
“Sorry,” she mumbled. Bypassing an empty seat up front, she strode to the back of the class.
The teacher cleared his throat. “As I was saying, Via supplies us with all we need so that we can fully live our lives. Devote our days to our loved ones and villages.”
Briana perked up. Philosophy class. What she learned here might help her with Pavlo. She pulled out her Philosophy book and tucked her Geography book into her backpack. If she’d realized how worthwhile this would’ve been earlier, she would’ve made her conversation with Pavlo quick. What invaluable information had she missed?
A flash of a memory struck, catching her heart in her throat. Everything didn’t look in motion like the other memories. Instead, an extra bright, translucent film overlaid everything.
Had she come in right at the start of class, the teacher would’ve stood with perfect posture and introduced himself as Mr. Albright.
“Good morning, class,” he would’ve said. “Why did Via create only eight villages?”
While a majority of the students would’ve gasped, Briana would’ve gripped her book, its edges digging into her flesh.
“How does she create our food?” Mr. Albright would’ve continued with no apparent concern about the discomfort coursing through the room.
A student at the front of the class would’ve run out, leaving the empty front-row seat Briana had bypassed.
And a grin would’ve formed on Mr. Albright’s face. “We were taught from childhood not to ask these questions. But, especially at your ages, you’ll find people who’ll ask despite the answers being clear. The one answer that matters most is ‘No one knows better than Via.’”
Briana gasped and closed her eyes tight. This memory wasn’t like the others, feeling concurrent, as though two things happened simultaneously. This was a full memory of an event she hadn’t been around to witness. She had to have lost her mind. None of this was possible. All of what she’d experienced had to be false memories, her imagination tricking her.
“Yes,” the teacher said, bringing Briana back to the current moment.
A woman lowered her hand. “Via doesn’t only provide us with what we need; she provides what she can.”
“Correct! So why can’t we ask her to create more villages?”
“We’d be selfish to demand more, Mr. Albright.”
Mr. Albright?
Briana gulped, trying to loosen her tightened muscles. How could false memories have provided her with his true name? Could it be... Supernatural? Her body trembled. Her vision dimmed around the edges. For all the fear Pavlo’s questions had brought, she faced a more dangerous issue. The supernatural didn’t bring about strange looks, questions from the governors, or even excommunication.
This deserved immediate death.
Copyright © 2021 by K. C. Gray
