Chapter 1
My
brother told me that he barely had to pay anything to get his video made for
the selection committee. It’s taken me a while to track down his videographer,
someone named Charnus Greeley, but now that I have I’m convinced that his price
for filming has definitely gone up. Thank goodness I’ve been working three jobs
and can survive on six hours of sleep every night, otherwise I wouldn’t have
had any hope of getting chosen to move up.
Something
tells me this videographer is the reason Cy got picked to move up. It’s not
that he wasn’t intelligent, charismatic, and talented—he was. It was just, I
know a couple other people who meet the above criteria as well as Cy did, and they weren’t picked. So it had to have
been Charnus Greeley, whoever he is, who was responsible for my brother’s
becoming a Primus. And if I want to be one too, I guess I need his help. That’s
why I’m on my way to hire him.
I have
to make a video that tells the selection committee all about me. My full name,
my desired future career as a Primus or Secundus, and, above all, why they should pick me. If I have
family members who’ve been moved up, what my special talents are, that sort of
thing. All the people I’ve talked to—my teacher from the elementary school who
stayed in touch with me being the most influential by far—tell me that my
videographer will help me plan out what’s best to tell them.
I
squeeze the brake on my motorcycle hard, sending it skidding to a stop. The
rubber wheels whine on the pavement and I wince, but it’s more fun, more
dangerous, to stop it that way. Cy used to tell me that my daredevil nature was
either going to pay off big time or get me hurt. So far it’s done neither. But
to be chosen for the career I want—the career Cy was picked for—I need to be a
daredevil. It’s in the job description.
The
building I’ve stopped in front of is one of the biggest in all of East. It
looks solid, like it’s been there for hundreds of years. It probably has. There
are several doors along its base, labeled with faded wooden signs for the most
part. All except one. The one that catches my eye is almost new compared to the
others, its paint only a couple of years old as opposed to what looks like
decades. It reads “Charnus Greeley” in red block letters.
Swallowing,
I raise my hand and knock on the metal door. There’s a button beside it which
supposedly was called a “doorbell” and which you could press to get the
inhabitant of the apartment to come to the door. Whatever made it work ceased
to function long ago, however, and so now all of us in the Tertius Quarter of
East have to knock to alert friends and fellow workers to the fact that we’ve
arrived.
As I
consider this, the door swings open, and a boy about a year older than me
appears. He stands there silently, a lock of red hair drooping over one of his
eyes, which are an almost bizarrely startling green. He’s about eight inches
taller than me, and doesn’t smile.
“Er…hello,”
I say rather awkwardly. “I’m…uh…here to see Charnus Greeley, the videographer?”
The boy
nods and steps aside so I can enter. I wonder if he’s Charnus’ son or something
as I cross the threshold and take a look around. The hall within is clean and
unfurnished, lit by a series of candle-like lamps nailed to the left wall. The
lamps cast interesting shadows over the ceiling and floor, making my shadow
waver, growing taller and shorter.
Clearing
his throat, the boy steps forward and heads down the hallway, clearly expecting
me to follow. I do so, pondering why on earth he hasn’t said a word. Politeness
would dictate he at least tell me his name. I hope Charnus is more polite than
his son or whoever this is. Maybe this is just an employee—but if it is, he’s
not making a very good impression. Maybe Charnus Greeley isn’t the reason Cy
got chosen at all.
He
leads me into a small room furnished with a white backdrop that looks like a
sheet, a rickety wooden chair, and a single camera. Large lights, the first
sign of electricity in the building I’ve seen, are pointed at the sheet and
shining almost blindingly. Upon closer examination, I see an old, almost
prehistoric computer sitting on a table that obviously matches the chair.
Apparently the magic of Charnus Greeley isn’t his filming location or
technology.
When
the boy heads to the camera and turns it on, I raise my eyebrows. “Uh…isn’t
Charnus Greeley going to be the one filming? I’m…er…paying a lot of money for
this, and I really want it to be as good as possible.
The boy
looks at me evenly, his hair still in his face and his eyes, oddly enough,
betraying a hint of amusement. “I’m Charnus Greeley.”
Embarrassment
floods through me, and I can feel my face growing red. “Oh.” I cough
uncomfortably. “Sorry. I just didn’t expect you to…be so young, I guess. I’m
not trying to offend you,” I add quickly, raising my hands in a defensive
posture.
This
just makes him chuckle. “Sit down. I get that a lot, and actually I don’t mind.
I like keeping the element of surprise on my side. Someday the Gov is going to
know what they missed out on.”
“What
do you mean?”
He
inspects the camera more closely as he explains. “I applied last year. Wanted
to be a cinematographer for those movies the Gov sponsors. Apparently ‘they
didn’t need any of those this year, thank you,’” he says in a slightly mocking
voice, cleaning a fingerprint off of the lens. “Oh, well. Their loss. I guess
this is my life now.”
“Have
you filmed for anyone besides my brother Cy and yourself?”
“Oh, I
didn’t film myself. Hired one of my competitors, actually, as per the rules of
Selection.”
“That’s
a rule?” I ask, suddenly curious.
“Yup.”
He looks at me oddly. “Surprised you don’t know that.”
“I
wouldn’t have. I’ve never touched a computer in my life, let alone seen a
filming camera. Just those Government security ones.”
He
nods. “Most people haven’t. I got lucky; my dad used to film Selection videos
before he died, so I inherited all this stuff.” He shrugs, though I see a bit
of emotion flicker through his face. “He taught me a few things. The rest I had
to learn alone. And in answer to the other part of your question, filmed a few people aside from your brother.”
He shrugs. “They’ve all made it through, which is why I felt comfortable
raising my rate a bit.”
“How do
you do it?” I ask. As far as I know, he’s the only person who films the videos
who has a perfect record to ever exist. I can only hope he’s telling the truth.
“It’s a
matter of getting to know the person you’re taping. Talk to them a bit before
you actually start the mandatory Selection interview. Sit down,” he says again,
and I realized that I’m still standing next to the chair. I do as he asks, and
he pulls an ancient-looking rolling chair from behind the computer table and
sits behind the camera. “So. Tell me about yourself.”
“Well,”
I reply, “My name’s Rainey Kleeft, and if you hadn’t already guessed based on
the fact that I’m filming a Selection video, I’m seventeen.”
He
nods. “And your family?”
“Well,
my parents both did odd mechanical jobs and upkeep stuff for the city. They
died in a fire when I was seven. My brother Cy basically raised me until I was
fourteen. He was three years older than me.”
“Why
are you referring to Cy in the past tense? He was Selected, right?”
I nod
slowly, not wanting to think about it. “Yeah. He was. But he died about six
months later.”
Seeming
to sense my hesitation, Charnus moves on. “What do you do for a living?”
“I work
three jobs. I’m junior gardener for the East Greenhouse, I stock shelves at the
East Mart, and I drive a street sweeper.”
He
looks mildly surprised. “So you can drive?”
“Oh,
yeah. Cy fixed up an old motorcycle and rigged it to run on an electric charge.
It doesn’t go too far, but it gets me to my jobs and recharges in about six
hours. It’s pretty fun to ride, even if he did say I was going to wreck it.” I
laugh sadly at the memory. Cy saw me doing my signature skid-stop when I was
about ten, and though he looked a bit amused, he sat me down right there on the
front steps of our apartment and told me that it was dangerous, and please to
avoid doing it so I wouldn’t hurt myself. He looked so concerned that I did indeed
stop—at least, when Cy was around. I hated to see him look worried. He was such
a wonderful older brother…
Charnus’
voice jolts me out of my reverie. “And how were your school grades?”
I think
back. “They were good, if I remember right. It was a long time ago, of course…but
I’m pretty sure they were A’s.”
“Good.
And what were your Talent Test results?”
I think
back. When elementary school students are ready to leave school, which for
Tertii happens at the age of eleven, they take a Talent Test that helps
potential future employers know what they’re best at, and what they’re not so
good at. It’s been a long time since I’ve considered my results, but I remember
them clear as day. “In strengths, I got Intelligent, Courageous, and Diligent.
In weaknesses, I got Risk-Taker and Stubborn.”
He
nods. “And what Selection career do you want?”
This is
it. I really can’t debate any more. For two and a half years, I’ve wondered
whether or not I should go through with the crazy plan I formed. I want answers
to some unanswered questions, but the way to get them is so insanely dangerous
that I’m not sure whether or not I should do it... A small voice inside me informs
me that this is the Intelligent and Risk-Taker sides of myself in a friendly
debate. I need to pick, and from the way Charnus is raising his eyebrows, I
know I need to make it fast. And of course, the Risk-Taker side wins out.
“I want
to be a pilot.”
He
nods, though his face has gone slightly pale. Standing, he inspects the camera button.
“Thanks, Rainey. That concludes the interview,” he says, pressing a button on
the camera. A red light beside the lens blinks off, and I realize what he’s
done, and applaud the brilliance of it while at the same time find myself
irritated at the trickery. He got me to say things without being stressed and
nervous. My interview video will be completely natural. They’ll see the real
me. Because he was filming that whole time.
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