Claire had participated in those rituals throughout her childhood. She didn’t mind missing them now.
The Ceremony of Twelve, which would begin on the second morning, was always the highlight. Here was when the unexpected could happen, as the children received their Life Assignments. It had always been fun, watching the Assignments given out. Until her own, of course.
Well. It was in the past. But she was happy not to be there today, in the audience, watching as other young girls heard that they too had been found fit only to breed.
It seemed odd, the silence with everyone gone for the day. There was not much, really, for her to do; she was simply required to be there, to be certain nothing went awry. But everything—the temperature in the labs, the humidity, even the lighting—was carefully calibrated and controlled. Claire checked the screen of her computer periodically for incoming Hatchery messages, but nothing was urgent.
She glanced through a window at the supply boat that was moored at the dock. It had arrived at a bad time. With the Ceremony taking place, they would have to wait two days before they could unload. Probably, she realized, they’d be happy to have some time free of work. She wondered what the crew was doing on this unexpected vacation. She had watched them previously, and heard them, lifting and stacking and carrying and directing. Their clothes were different; they didn’t wear the loose-fitting tunic of the community. And they spoke with a slight accent, an inflection that was unfamiliar.
Claire had never been curious about those from Elsewhere. It was part of the contentment she had always known. Here had always been enough.
Now, through the window, she stared at the heavy-laden moored boat and found herself wondering about its crew.
Nine
That lunch was pretty awful, wasn’t it?”
Eric entered the lobby of the Hatchery with the others at the end of the day. The group was noisy and laughing, obviously happy to be finished with the hours of ritual, sitting, paying attention, politely applauding.
“It wasn’t so bad,” one of the other workers replied. “Just wasn’t enough of it! I’m still hungry.”
Claire was seated at the receptionist’s desk. “It’s almost time for dinner,” she told them. “How was the Ceremony?”
“Fine,” someone said. “They got all the way through the Elevens, so there’s only the Ceremony of Twelve left for tomorrow morning.”
“Good. It went smoothly, then. No children misbehaved or had a tantrum,” Claire said, laughing.
“Nope. No surprises at all,” Edith told her.
“Except maybe for Dimitri,” Eric announced.
“Dimitri?”
Everyone chuckled. “He thought he’d be assigned a spouse. He was on the edge of his seat. But they didn’t call his name.”
“Oops. That means he has another whole year to wait,” Claire said.
“Or more!” Eric pointed out. “There have been people who waited years for matching.”
“Well, it’s for the best,” Edith commented. “There probably wasn’t a good match for him available this time.”
A young man whose name Claire didn’t know had been listening. “He only applied for a spouse because he wanted a dwelling,” he said. “He’s tired of living in the dorm.” He turned, seeing Dimitri come through the door. “Even though he gets a special suite, for being director. Isn’t that right, Dimitri? You’re sick of the dorm, right?”
Dimitri crushed the program he was carrying into a wadded ball, and tossed it at the young man. “I’m sick of living with you, that’s all!” He grinned, picked up the paper where it had fallen, and tossed it into the trash receptacle.
They hung their jackets on the row of pegs beside the front door. “Everything quiet here, Claire?” someone asked.
She nodded. “A couple of the boatmen came ashore and went for a walk. I saw them strolling along the river path.”
“Those guys are so odd,” Eric commented. “They never talk to anyone.”
“Maybe it’s against their rules,” Claire suggested.
“Could be. Elsewhere probably has completely different rules.”
“Actually, talking to them might be against our rules. Has anyone checked?” Edith asked.
Everyone groaned and most of them glanced at the large monitor on the receptionist’s desk.
It occurred to Claire that she could check on the rules and answer her own question about whether she could apply for a spouse. But did she care, really? Enough to make her way through the lengthy index and perhaps find her answer in a sub-subparagraph or footnote? Probably not, she thought.
The loud rasp of the buzzer summoned them all to the cafeteria for the evening meal. She rose and found her place in the line. From a window in the hallway, she noticed two members of the boat crew lounging on the deck of the vessel. It was heavily loaded with crates of cargo, and the two young men sat side by side, leaning against a sealed container. Each of them held a small cylinder to his mouth, and it appeared that they sucked smoke from it and then blew the smoke into the air. It was an odd custom that she had not seen before, and she wondered what its purpose was. Perhaps it was a medicinal inhaler of some sort.
The line moved forward. Conversations, laughter, and comments interrupted her thoughts. Claire approached the stack of trays, took hers from the top, and saw that Edith and Jeannette had saved a seat for her at their table. She moved ahead, holding her tray out to the serving person behind the counter, and put the boat crew out of her mind.
“What was the Naming of Newchildren like?” she asked them after she had sat down with her tray of food. “Were there any surprising names?”
“Not really,” Jeannette said, “except I was startled to hear that one, a boy, was given the name Paul. That was my father’s name.”
“But they can’t use the same name twice!” Edith said. “There are never two people in the community with the same name!”
“But they do regive names,” Claire pointed out, “after someone is gone.”
“Right. So that means my father is gone. I was surprised to hear it,” Jeannette said.
“When did you see him last?” Claire asked. She could remember her own parents, but it had been several years, and details about them had begun to fade.
Jeannette thought, and shrugged. “Probably five years. He worked in Food Production, and I never go over that way. I see the woman who was my mother now and then, though, because she’s in the landscaping crew. Not very long ago I noticed her trimming the bushes over at the edge of the recreation field. She waved when she saw me.”