A Court for Owls

Three. Two. One.

Jump.

I leap into the air at the loudspeaker's direction, hands clutching Vail's sweaty grasp and Camber's cool one. For a moment, we are airborne. The entire Nation-- the entire world-- lifts apart from the earth. And in this single weightless second, we effect change. The force of our unified leap moves the earth one percent of one percent of a degree; time speeds forward by one thousandth of one thousandth of a second. It may not be much, but it means something. It means that together, we can change the world.
In an instant, we're back on the ground, and the opening ceremony of the 218th annual Unity Day Festival is complete. Confetti helicopters through the air. The Nation's anthem blares from every loudspeaker in the city. All around me, the people shout, jump, and dance as children race every which way with streamers, singing along to the rapturous melody.
Camber grabs my hands and twirls me around, her freckled cheeks glowing with carefree joy. "Happy Unity Day, Senia!"
I return the best smile I can manage. "Happy Unity Day."
Beside me, Vail streaks her damp palms over the front of her new dress, her gaze darting around like those of a puppy trapped in a corner.
"Hey." I grab her hands and squeeze the trembling out of them. "You're going to be great, okay?"
She nods, but I suspect she hasn't really heard what I said. Heaving a shaky breath, she turns toward the giant, ancient stage that stands as the base of the council building. I watch her go. Without turning, I sense Camber looking at me. She says, "I know today is rough, Sen, but I'm really glad you're here. For Vail, at the very least."
Her directness catches me off guard. I turn to meet her gaze and give a little nod, but I don't have words for how I feel. We wait in silence as our friend mounts the stony steps. Camber's right; this is huge for Vail. The honor of delivering the Unity Day opening speech means that she very likely could be Pax someday. As the anthem song expels its last notes, Vail positions herself behind the microphone. Heads turn in attention. Mouths close into expectant smiles. I scrunch my toes in my shoes.
"Two hundred eighteen years ago..." Vail's voice rings out higher than normal, but without the slightest shake. "...the final eleven nations became one. At that time, the Last War had turned the earth into an endless battlefield, a place of constant danger, death, and conflict. Our ancestors who lived through the Last War never knew a day of peace or safety. All was in ruins, and there seemed to be no way to return from the destruction they had caused." Vail breaks off for a long moment; people shuffle where they stand, looking down.
"But look around you," she finally continues, her confidence coming through more strongly. "Really, look around at how the world has changed."
Eyes turn all around to gaze at the many skyscrapers that surround us, widening in newfound awe at the spectacular height or the self-cleaning windows. The people marvel at the beauty of the steel and glass, breathe in the salty aroma of the sea beyond the island's protective wall, stand open-mouthed at the magnificence of the utopia we have created. But I just stare down at the crack between the two slabs of pavement beneath my feet. A bit of green moss bridges the gap, a shred of natural life not yet noticed by the Nationscaping team. I've lost interest in our home's perfection.
"Today, we live in a world of beauty and peace," Vail continues, a triumphant smile spreading across her face. "We have found the way to undo the past. Where there was destruction, there is now architectural marvel. Where there was barrenness, there is now verdant abundance. Where there was death, there is now life. And where there was discord, there is now unadulterated harmony. Two hundred eighteen years ago, our ancestors decided enough was enough. They put down their weapons and came together as one people-- one Nation. And we stand here today because of that choice. On this Unity Day and every day, we remember why the human race survived, and we continue to thrive by carrying on that which saved us then. Today, we choose peace!"
"Today, we choose peace," I hear my voice say with the crowd echoing back to Vail. The Nation erupts into applause and cheers. Music plays, and the festivities officially begin.
Not for me, though. I glance down at the thin, silver band on my wrist, flicking the projection out onto my arm. Six o'clock. I only have an hour to get home, get ready, and come back for the Induction. I flick my Argenti projection away, hug a quick goodbye to Camber, and walk away.
As I pick my way through the crowd and wind amongst the maze of tall buildings, I think about the Jump. For as long as I can remember, that ceremony has been my favorite part of Unity Day, my favorite tradition in the whole year. Something about all 51,000 people in the entire world joining hands to do something as simple as jumping has always filled me with awe. But this year, the ceremony just felt...empty. I feel like we haven't changed anything at all.
Grateful that my family lives close to the council building, I swipe my Argenti against the sensor and let myself into the elevator. 149 stories later, the doors open into our silent apartment. I've beaten my parents home.
In my room, I pull off my sundress and kick my sandals under the bed before moving into the bathroom. I allow myself one peaceful minute standing under an icy shower stream, hair clutched above my head in a knotted-but-dry mess. It's comforting, in some way, to feel the frigid water pelt against my shoulders and back. I turn the water off and wrap myself in a soft, white towel.
When I step back into the real world, I notice a long box laying on my desk, my sewing supplies pushed haphazardly to the perimeters. Atop the box is a note on my mother's signature paper. I pull my towel closer around me and lift the note.

Senia,
Happy Unity Day, sweetheart! We can hardly believe you're entering into your third and final Induction, a true adult. As you take your vows at the ceremony tonight, know that we are so proud of you.
You look lovely in scarlet. Hope you like it!
Evolet and Rayan

Evolet and Rayan. My parents. It's weird to think that after tonight, I'll be an official citizen of the Nation and, as their equal, will call them by their first names.
I pull the lid off the box, and my heart leaps into my throat. Gingerly, I pull the fabric out to reveal the most beautiful dress I have ever seen. Red satin pours down to the floor, weightless in my hands. The back is low and the fabric falls in regal folds. The rims of two pockets are seasoned with tiny diamonds, and if I know my mother, they're real. Bringing it closer, I inspect the seams and find them flawless, subtly intricate, as a work of art should be. The folds of the dress are pressed perfectly, and the cut will make even my stick-like frame seem beautiful.
I slip into the gown and fasten the back. It's like wearing air. I turn this way and that in front of my mirror, and for the first time in nine days, my smile is real. But I'm running out of time. I hurry to put on heels and pull my hair back into a style that looks more elaborate than it really is. I gaze into the mirror again and tuck a stubborn wisp of brown behind my ear. I still feel incomplete.
I know what I need without having to think about it. Turning to my dresser, I open the top drawer and take out the thin, silk pouch. I undo the clasp and let the necklace fall into my hand. It's perfect. Back at the mirror, I fasten the smooth, cool stone around my neck and run a finger over the silver chain wrapped through the hole in the center of the circular pendant. The gauzy white of the stone contrasts the bold dress beautifully, and I think to myself that it's almost like he knew I would need to wear this necklace tonight. I'm ready.
I check the time on my Argenti. Fifteen minutes. Just enough time to get to the council building and find my seat. Now I just need my parents. And right as I turn to the door, they arrive.
"Oh! Senia, there you are," Mom says, as if I'm the one who's forty-five minutes late. She stops, noticing the dress. "Darling, you look beautiful." She places gentle fingertips under my chin for a moment, her teeth glowing white as she smiles. "Now, let me just grab some heels, and then we'll get going." She hurries off toward her room.
Dad stands in the doorway, glancing down at his Argenti every few seconds.
"We'll be fine, Dad," I say, crossing to stand opposite him.
"I know we will, pumpkin." He smiles, reluctantly sliding the watch projection back into the silver band. "Sorry we didn't find you in time for the Jump. I tell you, I don't know when the Nation got so big. Where we were, it was so crowded you couldn't land without stepping on someone's toes."
"Yeah, it was pretty crowded by the council building, too. You should have heard Vail's speech, though. She did a great job."
"Of course she did," Dad says, a smile in his eyes. "She's a smart girl. Now." He stands up a little straighter before resettling against the doorway. "How are you feeling about tonight? Nervous?"
I shrug my shoulders, but he knows me better than that. He waits, graying eyebrows raised. "Extremely," I finally admit. "Dad, I'm terrified that I'll be assigned a profession I hate. What if-"
"Won't happen." He places a large hand on each of my goosebumped shoulders. "The council always knows, Senia. They'll give you a profession you love, something you're good at. You have to trust that they know best. That's how it was for me," he says, pulling back and gesturing toward his agriculturist pendant, a bronze sheaf of wheat fixed to his lapel. "I didn't think I'd enjoy food production when I was seventeen, but today I know it was the perfect fit for me. I love working in the farm building and you'll love whatever you do, too. All right, Sen?"
"I want to be a tailor," I tell him, thinking of my pin cushion and seam ripper shoved to the edges of my desk, forced out of prominence by the box of the dress I now wear. "I can't really imagine doing anything else."
"Trust the council," he assures me again.
Just then, a three-inches-taller version of my mother rushes back into the room, fluffing her thinned hair with manicured fingertips. "Okay, let's-" She stops in her tracks, staring at me. Butterflies begin burrowing into my stomach as her eyes rest on my necklace. She takes a deep breath through her nose, an action I learned long ago to be a sure indication of her anger. "Senia," she says in her calmest voice, a tight smile pinching her face. "You look beautiful, dear, but I'm not sure that necklace is best suited for this occasion. Don't you think the dress would look better with something a little more...sophisticated? Why don't you borrow my gold one with the little diamonds instead?"
I place a protective hand over the stone and say in a tone notably less calm than hers, "No, I think this necklace is perfect, actually."
Mom's smile widens. "Yes, dear, it's very nice in its own way, but I don't think tonight is the right time to wear it. Let's put on something a little more special, hm?" She takes my hand and begins to lead me toward her bedroom, but I pull away.
"It is special," I say, now angry. "How can you say it's not? Fenno would want me to wear it tonight."
Mom flinches at my mentioning of his name, and her smile falters. "Oh, Senia." Her calmness infuriates me. "I miss your brother, too. We are all hurting over what he did. But you have to remember that he was wrong. No matter how much it hurts, the Council did what was best for the Nation by making him a Relegate. Now, you know it isn't polite to draw attention to such a negative topic in public. I really am surprised that you would want to wear that necklace, tonight of all nights."
"It's the last thing he gave me, Mom." I push my voice deeper to keep the emotion out of it. "If he can't be here for my Induction, I want to at least have a piece of him. Besides, no one has to know he gave it to me."
"It's the principle of the thing, Senia. You'll know, we'll know; I'm sure your friends will know. The necklace is special to you, and that's fine. But it's not worth the potential of making others uncomfortable. Take it off." She looks at me for a long, hard moment, waiting for me to give in. I turn to Dad, hopeful for an ally.
His eyes shift back and forth between Mom and I before settling on mine. Please, I think.
"I'm sorry, Senia." My heart falls. "Your mother is right. You're about to become an adult, and that means doing what's good for the Nation even if it goes against what you want for yourself. Take the necklace off."
Two against one. I storm back to my room without another word. I want to break something, to put a hole in the wall, anything to let out my fury at this injustice. But all I can do is breathe. With shaking fingers, I undo the clasp and pull the necklace off. I move to put it away in my drawer, but looking at it in my hand, I know I can't. I need Fenno with me tonight. I close the drawer and slide the stone into one of the dress's diamond-studded pockets. A compromise.
"Ten minutes," I hear my dad call from outside. I take another deep breath and turn to go, hand pressed firmly against the lump in my pocket.

It's already growing dark as we approach the council building. All around us, groups of people dressed in formalwear make their way up the steps of the ancient stage where Vail gave her opening speech an hour before. Atop the platform stands an equally-ancient edifice, the council building, its stonework miraculously unfazed by the test of time. And rising from the roof of the council building stands the symbol of the Nation: July.
From the windows in our apartment, I can see July's full body-- her calm and determined face, her seven-pronged crown, the gaping hole where her right arm must have extended before it was damaged in the Last War. I can even read her name on the tablet she holds in her remaining hand. But here, this close, I can hardly distinguish any of those features. As we approach, July is just an assortment of green scrap metal.
We step into the council building and follow the meandering throng into the vast banquet hall. Long tables laid with pristine tablecloths and ornate dishes line the room, beginning at an outer wall and slowly moving inward to form a sort of great spiral. At the center of this spiral sits a circular stage, empty but for the bronze spiral staircase-- the staircase I will ascend tonight. It gleams at me, both menacing and inviting, as I follow my parents through the spiral of tables, each tablecloth embroidered with a number that decreases as we walk.
514... 513... 512... I look around at the ranks of adults and children as they find their places. 349... 348... 347... Soon, I'll move from the latter to the former group, gaining the citizenship I've been waiting my whole life to receive. 85... 84... 83... I wrap my fingers around my pocketed necklace to ease my nerves. This is the night I learn who I will become.
We finally find our name cards at table four, the first table close enough to the center to be directly in front of the stage. As I sit down, I notice Vail waving to me from table three, only a few places ahead. I wave back, then begin looking for Camber. I find her further back behind Vail, flipping her red mane about as she talks to a boy a year older than us.
"Hey, Senia," an all-too-familiar voice says behind me. I arch around and see Trout standing too close, his dirty blonde hair a tousled mess that hides his eyes but not his devious smile. I turn back around, uninterested.
"Cool dress," he adds, "I like the pockets."
Why is he talking to me? I release my tight grip on the necklace and carefully place both hands in my lap, staring at the staircase in front of me.
Trout continues. "Well, would you look at that?" He reaches forward and lifts the name card next to mine. "We get to be buddies tonight. How's that for luck?" He tosses the little piece of card stock back onto the table, not caring when it bounces off and falls to the floor. He scrapes his chair back against the marble and sits, resting his chin on a propped fist and leaning in close to me. He follows my gaze, then looks back at my stone face.
"Yeah. The spiral staircase. I remember my Induction, staring at that thing, wondering what lies at the top. You scared?" He waits, but I offer no answer. I have nothing to say to him. "I bet you are. Heck, you don't even have Fenno here to calm your nerves. You must be terrified without big brother."
That does it. I whip around to meet his challenge, my face only inches from his. "Shut up, Trout. I don't need your putrid breath in my face or your 'wisdom' about Induction. Do me a favor, and switch places with someone."
"I bet you wish I could switch places with Fenno," he says with quiet bitterness.
"Hell yes, I do. I'd give anything to have him in here and you out there choking on radiation or being skewered by some mutated boar."
A wicked smile spreads on his face. "Careful, Senia. You wouldn't want to get caught starting a conflict on your very first day as a citizen." He taps a grimy finger beneath his right eye, and I get the message.
I force calmness into my tone. "I don't believe I instigated this conflict."
"Well, I don't believe I wished banishment and death on you."
I curse under my breath and turn away. He's right. To any Memorykeeper reviewing this moment, I would look like the one in the wrong. I don't know why I can't control my anger like everyone else. My mom, Trout-- people like them are so good at veiling their feelings or hiding behind smooth words. My emotions are too strong for that.
My thoughts are interrupted when I realize that someone is mounting the circular stage in front of me, dimming the glow of the staircase as she stands tall before the crowd. At her appearance, the Nation falls into a hush, breath bated for her words. I try to push my lingering anger down and force my lips into a vague smile as I stare up at Pax Reyna.
"Welcome," our leader sings out in a voice both soft enough to feel like she's telling me a very personal secret and loud enough to be heard by every person in the room. "Welcome, and happy Unity Day to you all. As we celebrate the First Council's decision for world peace and integration, we, the members of the Thirty-First Council, are proud to lead you in carrying on that peace over two hundred years later." At this, the other five council members rise in their places at the first table. I look over at my mother and see a pinched smile twitching at her cheeks. Fenno should be standing, too.
"At the Meeting of the First Council, the leaders of the last eleven countries in the war-forsaken world came together to find a solution. They had paid the cost for a lifetime of war and hatred. Disease had run rampant, famine plagued the rich and poor countries alike; all was in chaos."
Pax Reyna begins slowly pacing around the edge of the circular stage, performing the tradition of retelling our story for all sides of her captive audience. The long train of her white dress trails like a waterfall over the side of the platform.
"The First Council knew that drastic changes would have to be made if they were to save the human race-- a salvation, let me remind you, from no one but themselves. So the First Council met in one of the few places on earth that was not toxic with radiation or barren with famine and drought: an ancient building on a tiny island-- this building on this island." Pax Reyna smiles at us. “These eleven leaders recognized that the only way to save their people from extinction was to call a cease fire, something no one alive had ever witnessed. They needed to end the Last War and promote peace. More than promote it, they needed to enforce it, to ensure it for the good of the world.”
The good of the world. I try to force my smile into a more believable shape and press the heel of my palm against my pocket. The pressure of my necklace against my hip steadies me.
"The only way to truly do so, they knew, was to eradicate conflict as a whole. Instead of eleven countries, they became one Nation, settling the remaining world population right here on this island and blending their many cultures into one. Instead of every individual fending for himself, the First Council provided for everyone equally, and everyone contributed equally to the good of the Nation. Thus, the human race has persevered to this day. We are the Nation, mortality perfected, a utopia of peace and harmony.”
All around me, people stand in ovation for Pax Reyna, who rests for a moment with raised chin and closed eyes, smiling vaguely at the appreciation. I stand and clap, too, trying my best to look enthusiastic. As the crowd settles, Pax Reyna opens her eyes and continues speaking.
"Tonight is a night of celebration for our past, but it is also one of avidity for our future. And so we commence this year's Induction." The Nation applauds again as Pax Reyna dismounts the stage and takes her seat in the very first chair at the first table. In her place, Lukas, the oldest of the council members, hoists his stubby legs up onto the platform.
"We will begin with the Induction of the Infants," he calls jovially, his round cheeks jiggling with each word. "Would any parents with a child born since last year's Unity Day please join me on the stage?" There is a general scraping of chairs as parents rise and wind their way through the spiral, tiny newborns and gurgling crawlers in hand. A frizzy-haired young woman positioned in front of me rocks her crying new baby, frantically shushing it as if to say, "Don't ruin this; it's the most important moment of your life!"
I see that the screaming bundle's face is still bruised under the right eye, evidence of the baby's recent Memorex implant. I wonder if it hurts. I finger the skin under my own right eye, where my memory chip was implanted seventeen years ago, but feel nothing.
Lukas steps in front of the group of parents and holds an ornamented tube of lipstick high in the air. He then uncaps the tube and smears his lips with gold. To the applause of the audience, each set of parents holds out their child for Lukas's kiss, inviting him to leave a golden print on their baby's forehead. "The Council bestows on you the care and affection of the Nation," Lukas recites to each child before administering the golden kiss. After every family has left the stage, Lukas wipes the remaining lipstick on a cloth and returns to his seat.
Seren is next to take the stage, her bony arms burdened with a large metal box. Her thin, severe face stretches into a smile I have always found a bit unnerving as she calls for the next level of inductees to join her on the stage. "All children who have turned seven since last year's Unity Day, please step up for the Induction of the Students." The more energetic kids zip through the spiral and onto the stage in no time, while shy others meander slowly under the prodding of their grinning parents.
When they finally all stand along the circular edge, Seren unlatches the box and pulls out the first Argenti, its silver band glinting in the light. She calls out each child's name and slides the device onto their left wrist when they come to meet her in the circle's center. Even the shyest children are eager to receive their Argenti and skip excitedly to the council member when their turn comes. Ansen, Camber's youngest brother and perhaps the least shy child I've ever met, practically leaps on top of Seren when she calls his name, squealing with such delight that the leader's call of "The Council bestows on you the privilege and trust of the Nation" is hardly heard.
After presenting each band, Seren addresses the inductees once more. "With these Argenti comes a new level of responsibility. As students, you will spend the next ten years learning everything there is to learn. Your Argenti is to be your tool in this learning, and we as the Nation trust that you will use this privilege well."
The Nation claps, and the new students stumble down from the platform, flicking their new projections out onto their forearms and back again. Ansen grins at me as he passes, holding up his left arm so I can see his map of the island mixing with the many freckles on his pale skin. I flash him a thumbs up as he goes.
When I turn my attention back to the stage, Pax Reyna has already regained the center. I sit up a little straighter, the air catching in my lungs. This is it.
"And now," Pax Reyna coos gently, "let us begin the Induction of the Citizens. Would all those who have turned seventeen since last year's Unity Day please join me on the stage." For the first time tonight, the room is completely silent. While the first two inductions are about jovial celebration, this is a much more somber event. I allow myself to press my palm into the necklace in my pocket for a single moment before rising from my chair.
My legs seem to move on their own, my head flooded with thoughts. What wisdom will Pax Reyna share with us in the private chamber at the top of the spiral staircase? Which profession will I be chosen for? Am I ready to act like an adult? To call my parents by name? To walk up the staircase in five inch heels in front of all these people? Oh, please don't let me fall!
Before I know it, I'm staring out at 51,000 people. The Nation stares back at me in silent anticipation. For a moment, I feel as though I might pass out or throw up, but I look instead at my father and find comfort in his reassuring smile.
Pax Reyna's voice breaks through my tsunami of thoughts. "Please join me on the staircase." I jump a little as I realize that the leader of the Nation is standing directly behind me. A smattering of chuckles from the audience reaches my ears. Turning, I see Pax Reyna's blue eyes laughing at me, too, though her face remains still. I swallow and follow her to the center of the stage, my peers trailing behind me in a long, winding procession as we approach the bronze steps. Pax Reyna begins ascending, and, unwilling to look afraid again, I immediately follow her, wondering what mystery lies at the top.